#i really need to catch up with philosophy tube

[uiruu]

btw, Dan Olson (Folding Ideas)’s video about Nostalgia Critic’s The Wall is absolutely fantastic. and the one about Flat Earth (and Qanon) is one of the best things ive watched on youtube in a very, very long time. he doesnt have the same attention as hbomb partially because his style and humor just arent as energetic lol, but also maybe because of his topic choice? idk but god those videos are good

#i really need to catch up with philosophy tube #i know she came out as trans but i havent watched any videos since then #and tbh i havent watched any philosophy tube video that's been released in the last like two years #ive just been into other stuff #thats why i only just watched the pathologic video now lmao

[archived-kin]

arcade date with levi (with a twist)

note from kin: the twist is that, rather than just meeting up and going to an arcade for a date, you and levi are actually characters from two different games in the arcade that come to life at night and go on cute romantic hijinks together! (wreck-it-ralph au essentially)

you, simeon, and luke are from a battle game, levi and his brothers are from a side scrolling platformer, solomon is the tutorial dude in an experimental alchemy game, diavolo is the owner of the arcade, and barbatos is the janitor! your character’s costume is basically the same as caesar’s from jojo’s bizarre adventure, and you’re kind of the pseudo-leader of your game’s characters

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn!reader, leviathan, luke, simeon, lucifer, solomon

pairing(s): levi/reader

warning(s): guns, non-descriptive injury

genre: fluff

“Lights out!”

You cheer and hop out of your character selection box, stretching out your cramped limbs, then sitting down with a huff. Beside you, Simeon falls out onto the floor in a tangled heap of cape.

“Thank goodness,” He sighs, turning around and lying flat on his back. “Is it just me, or were our patrons picking me far more than usual today…?”

Luke carefully slides out of his own box, landing neatly on his feet with a little flourish. “Yeah, normally [Name]’s the crowd favourite…”

“It’s all those new promotional posters, I bet,” You hum, pulling off your headband and fanning yourself with one hand. “Seems like Diavolo’s really been pushing the angel series lately.”

“I wouldn’t call it a series,” Simeon says, chuckling slightly as he undoes his fancy cape. “There’s only two of us, after all.”

“Well, you’re the only ones out of us who actually have a theme between them,” says another one of your fellow fighters, taking off his hat and twirling it around a finger. “Anyway - [Name], shouldn’t you be going off to meet that loverboy of yours soon?”

“Oh, right!” You jump to your feet, dusting off your pants. Then you pause, raising your hands to pat at your face. “Wait, do my triangles look okay?”

“Your triangles look fine,” Simeon sighs, reaching over and tapping fondly at the little patches of paint on your cheek. “They always do.”

“Alright!” You adjust your scarf and throw the ends over your shoulder, tying your headband around your wrist. “I’ll be off, then! You guys know the drill, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, boss,” calls one of the younger fighters, hunched over in front of his box and scratching restlessly at the tip of his nose. “Not like we haven’t been doing it every day.”

“Don’t get cheeky,” You scold, but give his pompadour an affectionate pat on your way past anyway. It feels almost concerningly solid beneath your touch. “I’ll be back before morning!”

Your fellow fighters give a collective murmur of assent that’s abruptly cut off as you open the network door and hop into a wire. You’ve gone on this path so many times that it’s practically muscle memory at this point - six sections ahead, then to the left twice, a right at the purple junction, and then another four sections forwards.

The Tale of the Seven Lords’s network door is already open when you jump out of the wire, and the first thing you see when you poke your head in is Lucifer polishing one of the transport tubes used to get between levels. He’s discarded the fancy coat that he has to wear all the time as part of his character costume, and you don’t blame him - you couldn’t imagine even just running for five minutes or so with that one, let alone jumping about and punching at things for about fifteen minutes at a time, often longer.

“Lovely evening, Lucifer,” You greet brightly. He pauses in his work for a moment, then turns to look at you.

You’ve never gotten the feeling that he particularly likes you, but you’ve been trying your best to stay on his good side - after all, one must need the eldest’s blessing to date one of their younger brother. And your efforts must have paid off, too, because the corner of his mouth actually lifts slightly when he sees you grinning at him around the side of the door.

“[Name],” He says with a nod. “Levi’s up on Level Six.”

“Right!” You skip inside and shut the door behind you. “Good day?”

“About as good as it can get, I suppose,” He sighs, and you silently cheer. Willing small talk - that’s progress! “Most of our players for today picked either Belphie or Satan, so I got to take a break of sorts.”

You’ll never understand why some of characters in this arcade dislike actually being played so much - after all, isn’t that your entire purpose? Still, if Lucifer’s happy about not being picked, you’ll be happy for him as well. “That’s good!”

“Indeed,” He says, allowing a rare proper smile. He pulls back from the transport tube. “Up you go, then. Levi’s been restless all day - excited, no doubt.”

“He’s so cute,” You coo, adjusting your headband around your wrist to make sure it doesn’t slip off. “We go on dates all the time, but he’s still just as enthusiastic every time.”

“As Asmo likes to say, I suppose that each date should be just as exciting as the first,” Lucifer says evenly as you hop up into the transport tube, taking care not to get the freshly-polished metal grubby. “At any rate… Levi seems to be happy. So I suppose you must be doing something right.”

“What a wonder, right?” You reply with a laugh, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up. “I’ll have him back before first light. Promise.”

“If you say so,” He says dryly, and stands back as the transport tube sends you up.

Just as Lucifer said, Levi is bustling about on Level Six, accompanied by Belphie, who’s having a whale of a time snoozing on one of the platforms and letting his brother do all the work restocking the power-up bricks. Levi abruptly straightens up as soon as you pop out of the transport tube, as if he can sense your presence immediately, and turns to see you waving happily up at him.

His face immediately lights up, and he hops down from the brick he’s standing on with a goofy jump sound effect, landing beside you with a slightly wobbly grin. Slightly out of breath, he greets, “Hi.”

“Hi,” You repeat back to him, kissing his cheek. From up on his platform, Belphie makes an exaggerated retching noise.

Levi absent-mindedly chucks an inactive supersize star behind him at the sound, and it hits Belphie directly in the forehead with a high-pitched ping, sending him toppling backwards off the platform. Luckily, fall damage isn’t programmed into this game, so he lands on his back with nothing but his pride hurt.

“Ready to go?” You ask, disregarding the rather thunderous-looking brother behind your partner. Levi nods eagerly.

“Yeah! Belphie can take the rest of my bricks. He’s barely done anything so far.”

“It’s not my fault so many people picked me today,” Belphie groans, getting up and catching the rest of the power-ups that Levi tosses his way. “I’m tired…”

“You’re always tired,” Levi replies, shaking his head. “Get Beel to do it if you’re so desperate to sleep.”

“Maybe I will,” is Belphie’s final retort before you and Levi disappear back down the transport tube.

Passing Lucifer at Level One again, the two of you slip out through the network door and hop into the wires. Your destination today is the Suspect Sorceror’s abode - one of your regular date spots, and one of your particular favourites.

Despite the fact that the two of you see each other pretty much every day as soon as it’s lights out, there’s always a fresh kind of thrill to the prospect of spending time with Levi, no matter how much you do. It’s kind of like your heart grows wings every time you’re around him - you can’t help but feel all light and fluttery inside.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone - heck, you didn’t even know it was possible for you to feel like this! Every character in this arcade is programmed with a set personality that’s simply impossible to break away from. In some cases, some characters are reduced to such one-dimensional traits that they can only ever respond to anything with one of a predictable and very limited number of possible reactions.

Incidentally, your code has established you as a rather boisterous and confident person who doesn’t always think before they punch, while Levi’s has always dictated him as rather self-conscious and insecure, but passionate about his interests. Neither of you have ever been programmed with anything close to the sort of AI that would be required for you to develop your own feelings separate of your codes - and yet, somehow, you have.

You’ve never pretended to understand your own existence. You’ve not very smart, after all; where your programmers gave you excellent fighting spirit and leadership skills and an unwavering sense of determined justice, they seem to have forgotten to give you very many brain cells. Even so, you’re fully aware of the impossibility of the nature of yours and Levi’s relationship.

Still, your philosophy has always been that worrying about the little things never benefits anyone in the long run. Well, this might not be a little thing, but if there’s anything you’re good at, it’s goofing off to avoid getting too dismal.

You hop out of the wire as soon you’ve reach your destination, landing neatly on your feet with your arms spread wide in a rather flamboyant flourish. Levi scrambles to follow suit, but loses his balance on his way out and immediately starts heading directly for the floor; you quickly dart forward and catch him by the arms.

Levi’s panicked eyes dart up to meet your own, and before you’re even fully aware of what you’re doing, you deftly lift him into the air and give him a smooth twirl, then set him on solid ground once more. His knees immediately nearly give out beneath him, and you have to reach forward to catch him again before he takes a tumble.

“Wh-wh-wh—” Levi’s entire face is a bright, burning red. You’re pretty sure you can actually see smoke coming out of his ears. “You— huh?”

It’s just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen; you can’t help but lean forward to plant a kiss on the very tip of his nose. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to have been the right move, because Levi immediately goes stock still, then abruptly slaps his hands to his face.

“You alright?” You ask, crouching down with him as he slowly sinks down to the ground, practically steaming. You can’t help but laugh, feeling a little bad for flustering him so much. “Caught you off-guard, huh? Sorry.”

Levi shakes his head silently, then finally pulls his hands away from his face. His blush has calmed somewhat - it had been so aggressive that it almost looked like a rash before, but now it’s more of a sort of reddish dust - and he’s looking you in the eyes again.

“Y-y-you can’t just do stuff like that out of nowhere,” He says finally, leaning forward and dropping his forehead on your shoulder. “I have to prepare myself first…”

“Aw, that’s no fun,” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and rock him back and forth slightly. “You'll get used to it eventually!”

“You’re going to give me a heart attack,” He mumbles into the sleeve of your jacket, though you do notice that he’s deliberately pressing himself closer to you. “Well, you would if I had a heart.”

“You’re so cute,” You chuckle, pressing another kiss to the crown of his head. “C’mon, we’ve still got a date to finish!”

You give Levi another five minutes or so to get his face back to its usual colour and calm himself down, and he’s pretty much back to normal by the time the two of you step hand-in-hand into Solomon’s little alchemy hut - you with a wide grin on your face and him with a slightly shaky smile. Unfortunately, it seems that date night isn’t going to be going smoothly today, because Solomon is currently being held at gun-point by a character you’ve never seen before.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” crows the strange little man, brandishing one of his two revolvers in yours and Levi’s direction. You instinctively step in front of your partner, steeling your fists in case you need to fight. “Two lovebirds, is it?”

“Evening,” Solomon greets, not looking in the least bit fazed by the barrel he’s currently staring down.

“Who's this?” You ask in reply.

Solomon sighs and leans forward on his counter, ignoring the threatening click of the gun that the little man has pointed at him. “He’s from that shoot-em-up game a couple consoles down. No idea why he’s decided to show up here.”

You wrinkle your nose, reaching behind you to give Levi a reassuring tap on the arm before stepping forward. The little man watches you cautiously, keeping one gun carefully trained directly on your head.

“Your bullets aren’t going to work on me,” You say matter-of-factly. “I haven’t been programmed to take damage when a bullet hits me.”

“Won’t work on you, eh?” He raises an eyebrow. “How about your beau over there?”

You narrow your eyes. “He isn’t any of your business.”

Of course, you know full well that Levi’s game features projectiles that he certainly takes damage from, and while you don’t know if that extends to bullets from this man’s guns, you don’t want to risk it. You, on the other hand, have only ever taken damage from the punches and kicks your fellow fighters throw at you - or the beams of light Simeon and Luke shoot for their respective ultimates.

The man grins, and you note that he’s missing one of his front teeth. “So you won’t mind if I just fire a little bit at him—”

Your arm shoots forward before you even fully register it, and the man careens backwards with a cry as your fist lands directly in his face. The gun he’d been raising to point at Levi clatters to the floor and lets out a shot into one of the walls; Solomon winces.

“You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?” You scowl, striding forward and planting a foot on the little man’s stomach. He struggles under your boot’s heel, cursing. “First you spoil our date, and now you’re threatening my partner. You’re really starting to piss me off.”

“If you’re going to start a fight, take it outside,” Solomon intervenes, shaking his head. “I’ve got far too many glass bottles in here to risk letting you have a battle in here.”

“Doesn’t matter where I fight as long as I get a good punch in,” You smirk, folding your arms across your chest slightly and glaring down at the man as he scrabbles at your boot, attempting to wrench it off of him. “So, what’ll it be? Either you get your guns and scram, or we can brawl right here and now.”

The man responds by reaching to grab the gun he’d been aiming at Solomon earlier and firing a shot at your face. You jerk back in surprise, foot lifting, and he immediately scrambles out from beneath your foot, pointing up at you with a gleeful laugh.

“See how you like that!” He exclaims. “Not so cocky now, huh?”

You slowly reach up to press your fingers to where the bullet struck you, directly in the forehead. Solomon raises an eyebrow, while Levi calls out your name frantically, stepping forward with his hands outstretched.

You shake your head as the man laughs, holding up a hand to stop Levi. “Stay there. I’ve got this under control.”

“Huh?” The man’s grin fades as you pass your hand over the hole, only for it to be gone when your hand moves away. “What the—?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” You ask, looming over him as he frantically attempts to back away. He gulps, fumbling with his gun, but before he can try to fire another round, you knock the gun out of his hand with a swift punch. “Your bullets don’t work on me, pal.”

He turns as if to run, but your leg immediately darts out to trip him, and he tumbles forward onto the boards of Solomon’s hut with a muffled yell. This time you plant your foot directly on his neck, setting a single hand on your hip.

“I’m only going to say this once,” You begin, staring him dead in the eyes. “So listen up - got it?”

The man attempts to protest, but your heel only presses harder into his throat, and he has no choice but to give his gurgled assent. You smile, but it’s a menacing expression.

“This game is under my protection,” You say firmly. “You don’t come in here and start threatening to shoot up the place - and you most definitely don’t point the gun at my partner. Got it?”

He gurgles again. You nod in satisfaction. “Then we’re all in understanding here. Now scram.”

You lift your foot, and he immediately fumbles to get to his feet. You stay on your toes, prepared for him to attempt to go for his guns again, but he only gives you one last terrified look before turning and booking it out the door, tail between his legs.

You stare after him at the swinging door. The hut is silent for a moment more.

Finally, Levi says, eyes wide, “I think that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

#unedited #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #swd leviathan #swd solomon #swd lucifer #swd simeon #swd belphie #swd luke #leviathan x reader #levi x reader #wreck it ralph au #fluff #arcade #not sure how i feel about this one??? but eh

[seimeiorigin]

It’s time to forget Yuzuru Hanyu

(written on 27th Feb)

I think my obsession with Yuzu is not healthy. I need to do something to stop obsessing over Yuzu and get back to my normal life. I thought I should write down what I am feeling to see if it helps me let go of him. And where better to leave these thoughts than in the care of people who feel the same way?(If you are a translator, feel free to sub this for non-English speaking Yuzu fans  )

I am a 50 year old Australian woman and as a long time fan of the art of figure skating I was usually only interested in watching the women. The last time I watched was during the era of  Tonya Harding,  Tara Lipinsky and Sureya Bonnely. I was a fan of Kurt Browning back then as my only favourite male skater.   

15 days ago I saw a random you tube video of Parisienne Walkway and was immediately struck by the power, grace, beauty and effort of Yuzuru. I had never seen anyone like him and I thought  that his performance was the best skate I had ever seen. Little did I know....In the last 15 days I have felt the need to see more of what he does and so have spent every free hour of my life watching Yuzu's performances, sometimes over and over as in the case of Seimei, P walkways and Masquerade.

I am obsessed with Yuzu and I deeply regret that I was not along for the ride of the last 10 years. I google for the latest Yuzu news everyday and when I find something written in the last week it is like finding a gold nugget! I have read many of the blogs about Yuzu (thank you blog writers), read the news articles, watched interviews and never have I felt the lack of a second language more keenly. A massive thanks to everybody who English subs Yuzu content. 

I think about him when i should be working. I stay up late watching videos and am so tired in the morning. I am trying to find places I can buy Yuzu merchandise but alas, there are no places here to do so. I look at my phone lock screen (Seimei) a hundred times a day just to remember that this man exists. Yuzu has taken over my life. 

What is it about Yuzu's skating that makes me want to watch again and again and again?The crosswalk in Seimei. Oh mi god. Such attitude. I have never seen attitude like this on the rink before. A challenge to all watching: "Do not mess with me!"I have watched the videos about the making of Seimei and am enamoured of how much work went into this program, right down to Yuzu recording his own breath to help with the timing of his opening movement. The full program is breathtaking. I love every single moment of every single aspect. After having watched the making of Seimei video i understand so much more about what I see on the ice - the spells he is casting as the character and how that translates into artistry. The speed. The effort. The more videos I watch about Yuzu the more times I watch Seimei.  For example, Yuzu says in one interview that  at Pyeongchang he was supposed to stay in character but was so happy at the last part of the program that he could not help smiling and feeling so happy and we saw that. Such an uplifting moment that makes me laugh every time. I think i have watched all available performances of Seimei that the music runs through my mind in my sleep. I have downloaded it on my phone and listen to it on the bus. 

Yuzu's costumes: oh. mi. god. They are beautiful works of art. Such beauty of colour, decoration, design and form. I feel things when I see the costumes. I covet the heaven and earth jacket. I want one of my own to wear. The way they fit Yuzu perfectly, showing off the his perfect form in all its beauty and strength. The way they create the mood for the performance makes many other skater's costumes pale in comparison. The detail that the costume designer includes and the fact that Yuzu himself participates and tells her what he wants makes it all the more special. I watch the performances time and again just to look at the costume details. 

Yuzu's sexuality on the ice is something I am in two minds about. My own son is 22 so not that much younger than Yuzu so I feel uncomfortable thinking of Yuzu that way. But I cannot help it when I watch PW or Let's go crazy or Let me entertain you. There is something so attractive about the way Yuzu's movements invite the audience to partake in a little bit of sauciness. This is in direct opposition to the fun and innocence of everyday Yuzu that I see backstage or during downtimes. It feels like a total contrast and perhaps it is for that exact reason why those movements are attractive. 

Yuzuvier: I have friends but none of my friendships are like that. I wish I could experience the relationship between the two of them. I am so glad they had each other and it makes me feel happy when I see the videos of them together...and sad to see where Javi told Yuzu that it was their last time competing together. I really hope they stay in touch and catch up when they can. 

Yuzu's University study: Wow, what a legacy to leave to the sport. Using his own skills and experience to explore ways to become more proficient and keep climbing those hills. I truly hope that his study has led him to a way to perfect the 4A and I am holding hope in my heart that he is the first one to do it. I also hope that the thesis will allow the sporting world to progress. 

Sportsmanship: Wow Yuzu. Just WOW. A beautiful person who shares joy, encourages others, provides support and is never a complainer. This is what all sporting people should aspire to be. The depth of integrity that this man has shines out of every pore of his being. 

Yuzu's work philosophy and dedication is just exhilarating. Always wanting to be better, climb that hill, be number one, try and try and try. Learn from mistakes, learn and learn and learn. I find myself going about my day now and asking myself "WWYHD" in this situation? (What Would Yuzuru Hanyu Do). I am thinking that if i can take one thing from Yuzu everyday it would make interactions with my fellow humans more enjoyable and pleasant. I truly admire Yuzu so much that I hope I can continue learning from Yuzu even when he is not skating anymore.

 Yuzu's philosophy of supporting all people including his own is admirable. Truly a remarkable attitude and philosophy to have in one so young. When I see this it makes me want to do something to help my fellow man. Yuzu is a shining example for all of us on what life is really all about. The Japanese culture permeates everything this man does. Yuzu is so respectful as many Japanese people are and I admire this culture immensely for the grace, dignity and respect that abounds there. Such a contrast to what I see everyday and it makes me feel like I want to live there myself. 

I have never seen this man in real life. I really cannot say I know anything about him. I have not spoken to Yuzu or anyone who has met him so anything I know is second, third and fourth hand. But even though I feel like I know everything there is to know about him now, I know that what I have seen over the last 15 days does not mean I know him at all. But I wish I did. He seems like a pretty good bloke. 

I wish...no, I hope that I get the chance to see Yuzu perform live. He has just made it onto no. 1 spot on my bucket list. If I can see him live after Covid I will be yelling, cheering, screaming at the top of my lungs. And I will be crying because I have seen perfection. The Greatest Of All Time.

#羽生結弦 #yuzuru hanyu

[jeromesxreader16]

Such A Joker (46)

Part 45 Here!!!

~o0o~

As we arrive in town Jeremiah holds my hand tightly. I lean on his arm smiling up towards him. "You're going to be okay." He nods letting out a shaky breath. "I know. I'm worried about what he will say about you. He will be mad." I nod looking away. "He won't know. I'll be going straight to the roof." His eyes grow sad as he gazes at me. "I won't see you again will I?" I smile at him and rest a hand on his cheek admiring his green eyes. "I don't know, Jer. I hope Jerome is going to be locked up and then we can move on. For the better."

Jeremiah nods placing his hand over my own. "Then this is goodbye, (Y/n)." I sigh look upon the sea of frightened citizens. "Until we meet again, Jeremiah." He grabs me smashing his lips upon mine. As my father pulls him away from me he calls out, "I love you!" I cover my mouth smiling.

I quickly run-up to the roof seeing both Bruce and Jeremiah hooked up to their bombs.

"No parent will admit it, but everyone's got their favorites. Right, brother? The one who cleans their room does their homework, doesn't try to kill everybody. Little Mr. Perfect here. Yeah. He was that guy. He got adopted by rich folks. I went to the top schools, then, a top college. Meanwhile, I got dragged through the circus by my depressed alcoholic mother. Forced to clean up elephant dung every day! Do you know how big those things are, folks? But I know something that Mommy and Daddy, they never knew."

Jerome smirks at his brother as he tells their tragic story. "You're as crazy as I am. It's in your DNA. See, we got the same blood running through us. We are practically identical. You are a killer. It's your nature. Stop trying to fight it. You changed (y/n). Pumped lies into her head of sanity. Took her away. I've got a plan for both of you."

Jerome opens a knife and slides it into Jeremiah's hand. "This is your chance, brother. Take your best shot."

Jeremiah screams lunging at his brother. Jerome simply doges it and punches him in the face. Gunfire rings out from the streets below. I lean over watching the chaos and losing sights on Jerome and Jeremiah.

As the panic increases, a blimp glides over the Square. The door to the rooftop burst open and a bleeding Jerome stumbles over to me laughing. "Look at her! Isn't she beautiful?"

Jerome looks to me pulling me to dance with him. "I'm not dumb, doll. I know where you've been." He squeezes my side sharply causing me to flinch. "You've been shot, Jerome." "Aw, what about that." He walks me over near the edge standing up on it and overlooking at his creation.

"Hands up." My father's voice rings out from behind us. Jerome turns around chuckling. He pulls out his phone raising a finger, "Just give me a second. Got to call the pilot. Tell him he's in position." In a split second Jerome's wrist is shot making him drop the phone.

"Not cool." He groans glaring at Jim.

"Jerome..." I state watching him with sad eyes.

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. Too late, anyway. Bombs away!" He shouts as another gunshot sounds. I scream as it enters his abdomen.

Jerome looks down at his wound. "Funny." He falls back making me run after him. "No!" My father grabs me as we both view Jerome dangling.

Jerome looks at me and smiles. This is where we end.

"You gonna let me fall and die? Or are you gonna pull me up and arrest me? What's it gonna be? Lawman or murderer?" I reach down but Jerome doesn't reach for me. "Dad... Please."

Jim reaches down but Jerome laughs swatting his hand away and hanging onto the pole with just his hands.

"Ah. Good ol' Gordons. The two of you! Always playing by the rules. That's why I'll outlive you. That's why I'm loved. It's why she loves me! 'cause I don't give a damn about the rules." He chuckles looking at the both of us.

"Jerome, grab my hand." He shakes his head smiling.

"It's a long way down. You sure you'll outlive me?"

"Oh, I'm sure. 'cause I'm more than a man. I'm an idea, a philosophy. And I will live on in the shadows within Gotham's discontent. I'll always be a part of you won't I, (y/n)? Say... Let my bro take care of you." He cackles blowing me a kiss. "You'll be seeing me soon. Au revoir!" Jerome lets go falling to the ground and onto a parked car ending his last seconds in Gotham.

My chest burns as his smile stay wide. His eyes looking up at me. I cry into my father's chest as he holds me. "It's alright, (Y/n). I'm here. I got you."

~

As we get down to the ground people are gathered around Jerome's body. "GCPD. Everybody get back!" Jim yells causing others to thin out.

Only leaving a few including Jeremiah. I walk over pulling on his sleeve. "(Y/n). Oh my god." He wraps his arm around me tightly. "I'm so sorry." I shake my head. "It's okay. He's in peace now."

He looks down at me with puffy eyes. "Can I come home?" I ask quietly. He smiles and cups my cheek nodding. "Of course you can. I wouldn't have you anywhere else."

"Mr. Valeska. Ms. Gordon. I'm sorry for the loss."

"Jeremiah, I meant what I said about your work being of importance to this city. Let Wayne Enterprises fund your work with a grant." Bruce offers with a nod.

"Thank you," Jeremiah says nodding. "We'll be in touch, Bruce."

As we walk away together I can't help but feel light. I look over at Jeremiah looping my arm in his. "Promise me that we will keep each other sane?" Jeremiah kisses my head nodding. "I promise, love."

~

I walk on the cold ground barefoot leading to the office. I knock twice before entering. "You know you need to go to sleep." I sit on the desk smiling at him as he scans his work. "I have slept." I pinch his nose rolling my eyes. "That kind of sleep doesn't count, Mr. Valeska." He shrugs coming around the desk and standing in between my legs.

"Alright. How about we open these and then we go to bed?" He passes me a small ring box with a tag while he holds a wrapped box. "Who are these from?" "Bruce Wayne." I giggle shaking mine. "Must be expensive."

As we tear into our gifts the tension is thick. "Same time?" Jeremiah asks like a child at Christmas. I nod smiling with excitement.

As I open the lid a tube spays me the purple gas. I cough falling on the floor. "Ahh, honey, do you smell that cooking?" Jerome's voice cackles in my mind. "You know how it feels love. It's just like a drug. Let it in. Let it flow. Let us grow." He laughs in my ears as I scream covering my ears.

Jeremiah thrashes around screaming as well. He soon starts to laugh and his smile grows wide. "Jer!" I scream as he falls on the floor.

I start laughing remembering all the things that made my blood-red hot. The screams of the victims I've taken. The wide fearful eyes of citizens.

"You wanted a new life, doll? You've got one! BURN IT DOWN!"

~

~Two Weeks Post Spray~

I sit on the couch keeping myself occupied with my phone as Ecco strolls in, sitting beside me. "Hey girlfriend."

"Hey Ecco! What are you doing here? I'm sure Jereminah gave you the week off." She shrugs smiling. "He did, doesn't mean I can't spend time with you, right? It's been a while since we hung out."

I look at the time seeing it's close to dinner and lock my phone. "You want to grab some drinks?" She nods standing. "It's a date. I'll drive." I laugh putting on my shoes and walking towards the office.

I peek my head in and see Jeremiah reading. "Hello (y/n)." He spills out my name like honey. He looks up smiling at me.

"Hi." I swoon as I walk over to him, resting on his leg. "I'm going to have a girls night with Ecco. Want me to get anything for you?" Jeremiah closes his book and removes his glasses. "You and Ecco?" I nod confused.

"We're good friends, Jer. She's looked after me for a while now." He hums smirking. "Would you rather me stay with you today?" Jeremiah shakes his head laughing. "No darling. Go out and have fun tonight!" He pats my hip standing me up. "Save some fun for me later, doll." He growls in my ear twirling me out the door.

I wink and salute to him. "Yes sir."

~

I laugh slamming my empty shot glass down. "Another!" Ecco shouts ringing us another round of shots.

I lean my head on her shoulder feeling foggy. "This- this is great! I haven't been able to just let go, ya know?" Ecco nods, "You out of everyone I've known deserves to drink." "What do you mean? My life isn't that nuts!" Ecco's eyes widen and she dies in laughter.

"R-really? Are you joking?" "I mean it's unusual, but not nuts! At least I'm happy."

Her eyes fall and she nods. "You're really happy with him?" I nod smiling. "He's great to me." "He's always working." Ecco agues.

"He makes time for me." Ecco scoffs muttering something under her breath. "Huh?" Ecco smiles shaking her head. "What do you say I get you home?" I nod standing and stumbling to the car.

"Heels are never a good idea when I've been drinking! I don't think I can- Whoa!" I trip falling.

Ecco grabs my waist catching me as I giggle drunkly. "You're so waisted!" She cackles leaning me against the car.

She opens the passage door letting me fall into the seat. "Hey Ecco." I whisper pulling her close. "Yes?"

I turn to her smiling, "think you could do me a favor?" She places a hand on my thigh gazing at me. "Anything (y/n)." She leans in awaiting. "Awesome. Can you take my shoes off? They're so far away." I slump back in my seat closing my eyes.

"Sure."

Seconds later my bare feet hit the floor mat and Ecco raised. I open my eyes checking on her, "Ecco, are you-" Her lips press flush against mine and she places her fingers in my hair.

She pulls away breathlessly. "Don't go back to him, (y/n). He doesn't give you enough." I stare at her confused. "You're drunk, Ecco." I giggle pushing her away softly.

She grabs my chin and she pecks my lips lightly. "Okay, (y/n). You're happy and I'll keep it at that." Before I close my eyes she mutters three words I never expected.

She buckles me into the seat, kisses my head, whispers "I love you." Then closes my door starting the long ride home.

~

I sit up groaning and fall back into the silk pillowcase. A sharp giggle causes me to open my eyes seeing Jerome sitting at the edge of the bed. "You got a little frisky last night didn't you?" I tilt my head looking at him. "What do you want?" He crawls up the bed kissing me cheeks.

"How is my dear brother? Any sign of insanity yet? Yours is kicking in nicely, but he's a tough cookie isn't he?" I roll my eyes covering my head with the pillow. "He'll never give into it." Jerome pulls the pillow off my face smiling. "You never used to be this naïve." He sighs rolling off the bed and hitting the floor. "Enjoy the sanity while you still can, doll. Dark days are coming for Gotham." Jerome places a hand on my stomach smiling. "But there is always a spark of light in the dark isn't there?" He giggles, vanishing as he leaves the pressure on my stomach.

I shake my head standing, but as soon as my feet hit the floor a rush of sickness washes over me. I run to the bathroom throwing my insides into the bowl.

Jeremiah rushes in kneeling next to me. "Oh, honey, too much fun last night?" I lean on the wall breathing hard. "It must've been." Jeremiah nods helping me up. "Jim called." "I missed his call?" "No, love, he called me." I smile leaning against the counter.

"For?" "He invited us over for dinner tonight. He said something about starting up the Weekly Gordon Dinner Fest and convinced me it was going to be amazing." "Wow. He's inviting you over. You know what that means? He likes you." Jeremiah shakes his head. "He likes that I keep his daughter safe." I giggle kissing his nose. "Nope. He likes you, Jeremiah. I can feel it."

~

"Do I need to dress fancy or is this purple tie too much?" Jeremiah asks, turning around to face me. "Purple? That's new for you." Jeremiah nods tugging at it and smirking. "It is. Makes me feel fresh. Do you like it, love?" I waltz over to him with his blazer. "You look great." Jeremiah slides his jacket on and wraps his arms around me. "And you... look darling in red."

He swings me around and I laugh leaning into him. As I hold my hand on his chest I notice the skin around his neckline is extremely pale. I pull at the collar looking at the ghostly skin beneath. "Something wrong, doll?" I looked up at him and for a moment his eyes were light as snow. I blink rapidly only to see them a healthy green again. "You're just... pale. More than usual." Jeremiah smiles, shrugging. "I live underground, (y/n). Sunlight isn't my best friend." I nod as he walks us away from our home.

~

"I just can't believe you made this all alone, dad." I laugh as I help set out the spread my father had made for tonight. "I'm not completely helpless." He says picking up a plater. "Here Jim, let me." Jeremiah takes it and sets the food on the table.

My dad nods smiling. "You did good this time, (y/n)." I nod smiling at my favorite men. "Oh, almost forgot!" Jeremiah pulls out a bottle of scotch and passes it to my father. "Can't come without a gift." My father pats Jeremiah's shoulder nodding. "Thank you Jeremiah. Care for a glass?" "Please." Jeremiah chuckles pulling out my chair.

As dinner runs on course everyone smiles and laughs. I gaze at my family with a smile. "Would you look at that?" Jerome strolls out of the kitchen drinking from the bottle of scotch. "That could've been us."

Jerome makes faces at the two of them as he downs his drink. "Just look at you. Such a happy family. Why don't you have a drink to celebrate?" Jerome starts to poor scotch in my glass but looks up at me with a smirk. "Oh wait... that wouldn't be healthy for the little babe, would it? Ah more for me!"

"(Y/n)?" I shake my head looking at my father. "I-I'm sorry. What?" "Are you okay, honey? You look like you're going to be sick." I place my hand on my stomach, but remove it quickly, placing it on the table. "I'm fine, Dad."

~

As I'm drying my hair, Jeremiah walks in the bathroom. "Are you going to tell me what happened at dinner?" I sigh looking at him.

"I think we need to go back two weeks and take a recap. We never talked about it." "About what?" "The spray, Jeremiah! We both got a spray special for us and woke up like nothing happened!" Jeremiah's eyes flash with fear as he looks at me. He trembles moving towards the bed. "I-I thought it was all a dream. I've been seeing him everywhere. I thought maybe it was just a way to cope." He holds his head in his hands.

I sit in front of him removing his hands. "What has he done to you, Jeremiah?" He holds my hands shaking. "I hear everything he says. He's always in the back of my mind just picking away. Putting thoughts in my head. Bad thoughts. It's getting harder to resist, (y/n)."

I took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt revealing his pale chest. I run my fingers over it furrowing my brows. "It started at my legs. I hate to think what it will do when it gets to my face. I'll look horrid." I laugh shaking my head. "No. You'll look just as handsome."

Jeremiah laughs, grabbing my hands again. "And you?" I smile and sigh. "Just like all of your work was reversed. I can't even force him out of my mind now. He's just mocking me about everything. How happy we are. How Jim likes you."

Jeremiah holds me in his arms as I run my fingers over his ghostly skin. "No matter where this takes us we stay together." "Always, Jeremiah."

~

I gasp sitting up in bed. "You got about 1 minute." "Until what?" Jerome leans on his hands smirking at me. Suddenly a rush of sickness strikes me causing me to invade the bathroom once more.

Jerome laughs strolling in. "If it's a boy can you name him after his daddy? Jerome Valeska the second! Has a good ring don't you think?" "Y-you're not the father." Jerome smirks backing away. "You sure about that? I bet he'll even have my eyes!"

I wipe my mouth and crawl back in bed. He's not that father. I'm not pregnant at all.

"Or for a girl we could go for-" "SHUT UP!" I scream throwing a pillow at the figure.

#jerome #jerome x reader #jerome valeska #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska imagine #Gotham #gotham cast #such a joker #joker #Cameron Monaghan #cameron monaghan imagine

[englishchinesetranslations]

“Society has no business to permit degenerates to reproduce their kind”

Theodore Roosevelt

“Malthus has been vindicated; reality is finally catching up with Malthus. The Third World is overpopulated, it’s an economic mess, and there’s no way they could get out of it with this fast-growing population. Our philosophy is: back to

the village.”

Dr. Arne Schiotz, World Wildlife Fund Director of Conservation, stated such,

ironically, in 1984:

“A total world population of 250-300 million people, a 95% decline from present levels, would be ideal.”

Ted Turner, in an interview with Audubon magazine

“There is a single theme behind all our work–we must reduce population levels.

Either governments do it our way, through nice clean methods, or they will get

the kinds of mess that we have in El Salvador, or in Iran or in Beirut. Population

is a political problem. Once population is out of control, it requires authoritarian

government, even fascism, to reduce it....” “Our program in El Salvador didn’t

work. The infrastructure was not there to support it. There were just too

goddamned many people.... To really reduce population, quickly, you

have to pull all the males into the fighting and you have to kill

significant numbers of fertile age females....” The quickest way

to reduce population is through famine, like in Africa, or

through disease like the Black Death....

Thomas Ferguson, State Department Office of Population Affairs

“In searching for a new enemy to unite us, we came up with the idea that

pollution, the threat of global warming, water shortages, famine and the like

would fit the bill.... But in designating them as the enemy, we fall into the trap of

mistaking symptoms for causes. All these dangers are caused by human

intervention and it is only through changed attitudes and behavior that they can

be overcome. The real enemy, then, is humanity itself.”

Alexander King, Bertrand Schneider – Founder and Secretary, respectively,

TheClub of Rome, The First Global Revolution, pgs 104-105, 1991

A cancer is an uncontrolled multiplication of cells; the population explosion is an

uncontrolled multiplication of people.... We must shift our efforts from the

treatment of the symptoms to the cutting out of the cancer. The operation will

demand many apparently brutal and heartless decisions.

Stanford Professor ” Paul Ehrlich in The Population Bomb

“In order to stabilize world population, we must eliminate 350,000 people per

day. It is a horrible thing to say, but it is just as bad not to say it.”

J. Cousteau, 1991 explorer and UNESCO courier

I believe that human overpopulation is the fundamental problem on Earth Today”

and, “We humans have become a disease, the Humanpox.”

Dave Foreman, Sierra Club and co founder of Earth First!

“We must speak more clearly about sexuality, contraception, about abortion,

about values that control population, because the ecological crisis, in short, is

the population crisis. Cut the population by 90% and there aren’t enough people

left to do a great deal of ecological damage.”

Mikhail Gorbachev

“Today, America would be outraged if U.N. troops entered Los Angeles to restore

order. Tomorrow they will be grateful! This is especially true if they were told that

there were an outside threat from beyond, whether real or promulgated, that

threatened our very existence. It is then that all peoples of the world will plead to

deliver them from this evil. The one thing every man fears is the unknown. When

presented with this scenario, individual rights will be willingly relinquished for the

guarantee of their well-being granted to them by the World Government.”

Dr. Henry Kissinger, Bilderberger Conference, Evians, France, 1991

The illegal we do immediately. The unconstitutional takes a little longer.

Dr. Henry Kissinger New York Times, Oct. 28, 1973

Depopulation should be the highest priority of foreign policy towards the third

world, because the US economy will require large and increasing amounts of

minerals from abroad, especially from less developed countries”.

Dr. Henry Kissinger

“Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac,” and “The elderly are useless eaters”

Dr. Henry Kissinger

“World population needs to be decreased by 50%”

Dr. Henry Kissinger

“We are on the verge of a global transformation. All we need is the right major

crisis and the nations will accept the New World Order.”

David Rockefeller

“War and famine would not do. Instead, disease offered the most efficient and

fastest way to kill the billions that must soon die if the population crisis is to be

solved. AIDS is not an efficient killer because it is too slow. My favorite candidate

for eliminating 90 percent of the world’s population is airborne Ebola (Ebola

Reston), because it is both highly lethal and it kills in days, instead of years.

“We’ve got airborne diseases with 90 percent mortality in humans. Killing

humans. Think about that. “You know, the bird flu’s good, too. For everyone who

survives, he will have to bury nine”

Dr. Eric Pianka University of Texas evolutionary ecologist and lizard expert,

showed solutions for reducing the world’s population to an audience on

population control

“The present vast overpopulation, now far beyond the world carrying capacity,

cannot be answered by future reductions in the birth rate due to contraception,

sterilization and abortion, but must be met in the present by the reduction of

numbers presently existing. This must be done by whatever means necessary.”

Initiative for the United Nations ECO-92 EARTH CHARTER

“In South America, the government of Peru goes door to door pressuring women

to be sterilized and they are funded by American tax dollars to do this.”

Mark Earley in The Wrong Kind of Party Christian Post 10/27 2008

"Women in the Netherlands who are deemed by the state to be unfit mothers

should be sentenced to take contraception for a prescribed period of two years.”

Marjo Van Dijken (author of the bill in the Netherlands) in the Guardian

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2008/nov/04/humanrights-women

“Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature”

Anonymously commissioned Georgia Guidestones

“If I were reincarnated I would wish to be returned to earth as a killer virus to

lower human population levels.”

Prince Phillip, Queen Elizabeth’s husband, Duke of Edinburgh, leader of the

World Wildlife Fund

"Childbearing should be a punishable crime against society, unless the parents

hold a government license. All potential parents should be required to use

contraceptive chemicals, the government issuing antidotes to citizens chosen for

childbearing.”

David Brower, first Executive Director of the Sierra Club

“The principle that sustains compulsory vaccination is broad enough to cover

cutting the Fallopian tubes.”

Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes

“Frankly I had thought that at the time Rome was decided, there was concern

about population growth and particularly growth in populations that we don’t

want to have too many of.”

Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg

“The Planetary Regime might be given responsibility for determining the

optimum population for the world and for each region and for arbitrating various

countries’ shares within their regional limits. Control of population size might

remain the responsibility of each government, but the Regime would have some

power to enforce the agreed limits.”

Obama’s Science czar John P. Holdren: From a book he helped write ‘Ecoscience’

“The drive of the Rockefellers and their allies is to create a one-world

government combining supercapitalism and Communism under the same tent,

all under their control.... Do I mean conspiracy? Yes I do. I am convinced there

is such a plot, international in scope, generations old in planning, and incredibly

evil in intent.”

Congressman Larry P. McDonald, 1976, killed in the Korean Airlines 747 that

was shot down by the Soviet Union

P.S. And there's this:

“No one will enter the New World Order unless he or she will make a pledge to

worship Lucifer. No one will enter the New Age unless he will take a Luciferian

Initiation.”

David Spangler, Director of Planetary Initiative, United Nations

(People will shortly be expected to line up to take the COVID vaccination, with its

Luciferase enzyme)

#depopulation #henry kissinger

[infiniteshawn]

Since We’re Alone | 2

a/n: 3k words. an opportunistic dilemma.

“I don’t know why I did it,” Phoebe sighed, keeping her voice low. The break room was always a setting for warmly welcomed gossip, but not when it revolved around her own pseudo-romantic relations with an A-list celebrity.

“I just knew, fuck,” she spoke, catching the eyes of a nosy member of the cleaning staff as he mindlessly wiped one of the round tables. Her voice was barely a whisper, “his reputation is really clean, and he was having an off-moment, and the only thing on television was literally his pissed-off face.”

“So,” Phoebe’s co-worker, Sophie, was an interesting being. Good advice, terrible ideas. Phoebe kept this in mind as Sophie spoke, “you thought kissing him on national television would,” she paused, “fix it?”

“I don’t know,” Phoebe’s head lowered into her dry hands, “I knew it was gonna be bad, and I knew it would be the cover of every snapchat-and-whatever-else news story, and I knew I’d be right there in the photo, sitting right be-fucking-side him.”

“Right,” she nodded, “so you thought it would be better to be on the cover of every snapchat-and-whatever-else news story right on-fucking-top of him. I see.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. It was no use. The logic wasn’t all there, but something had told her to just do it in the moment. So, she did. And as annoying as the influx of backlash was, she had a hard time denying that she was enjoying herself.

“Would you just drop it?” Phoebe questioned with a sly grin, popping the last bite of her turkey sandwich into her mouth, “it’s over now, anyway.”

“Don’t speak so soon,” Sophie muttered, nodding her head in the direction of their boss, Margaret.

Margaret Adams. She was the bane of Phoebe’s existence. She was needy. She was demanding. She was everything a boss was supposed to be—and everyone hated her for it.

“Bray!” Margaret called from only a few feet away, causing Phoebe’s attention to leave her picked-at cuticle and land on Margaret, red-faced and flustered.

Phoebe didn’t have the chance to answer before Margaret began speaking—speaking about exactly what Phoebe did not want to talk about.

“Why the hell are you on Twitter moments?”

Phoebe took a deep breath. This really wasn’t going away anytime soon.

____________________

Remaining low-key had always been the goal. Letting them know what she was thinking—whoever “them” may have been—was never an option for Phoebe Rose. Silent but deadly. A wallflower, perhaps. She was a shark.

With a double-major in philosophy and English lit, Phoebe was a shoo-in for her position with Toronto Life Magazine. Unfortunately, the only opening was with Margaret’s department, which took pride in covering celebrity news stories. It made Phoebe sick.

It was invasive. It was greasy. Toxic, even.

But a position was a position, and anything was better than waitressing at Joey’s, a higher-end restaurant at Yonge and Dundas that was home to pretentious late teens and margarita-sipping wine moms.

As if on cue, Phoebe caught the 504A streetcar at 6:03. It was packed. It was always packed at this time. Especially on a Tuesday.

They stood like sardines holding onto the germ-ridden handles and she peered between the heads of two older women, mesmerized by the cookie-cutter financial buildings. They were all different. But the same.

They buzzed with the same aura, radiating stress and poise and money in the way each window stretched from floor to ceiling. Phoebe wondered what it took to become somebody in this grey, cubic city, miserable as that somebody may truly be. The bankers seemed to really hate it.

She liked to think of Toronto that way—cubic. She wasn’t quite sure why, but it made sense.

Phoebe thought back to her family trip to London when she was fifteen. It, too, was grey, but regardless of the weather it always seemed to be vibrating with life. Five-street intersections. The intense complexity of the tube. The history—Phoebe could have a field day just thinking about the past lives of all of those buildings.

It wasn’t until she returned home all those years ago, peeking out of the way-too-bright window of the 747 that she noticed how grid-like Toronto was. Every street was carefully engineered, the rest of the ground littered in houses and buildings that appeared to all be a uniform greying beige. It was lifeless. Modern. Cubic. Robotic, even. And Phoebe loved it.

She gazed out the window freely, now, as the two older ladies had gotten off at Spadina. Cars trailed behind the street car slowly, unable to pass as a result of the illegally-parked vehicles on King. Most restaurants were empty. Phoebe knew that Tuesdays in February were detrimental to the food industry. She wondered when exactly the calendar marked the beginning of patio season. April? May? She wasn’t sure. It reminded her of the way she always forgot she had Springtime allergies until spring rolled back around, or how often it rained in Toronto until winter ended and the arctic tundra that encapsulates the city melts away.

She realized she was going in mindless circles. Phoebe did this often.

The woman spoke. The bell that measured distance and location and stops sounded. Phoebe got off, stepping into the crisp whipping wind and again stepping into the lobby of her apartment building.

Chester had swung the glass vestibule door open before she could go fishing for her key card. She shot the doorman a crooked smile with something between a nod and a head shake, and then cursed herself for being so awkward. But it didn’t matter--the leftovers in her fridge seemed far more important.

So important that she hadn’t looked at the screen of her ancient iPhone 6 in an hour and a half. And she probably shouldn’t have.

She practically dropped the damn thing when she saw the twenty-seven-minute-old notification.

@shawnmendes has requested to follow you.

____________________

“I declined it,” Phoebe spoke sternly, trying her best to conceal her voice’s urge to waver.

“You,” Sophie paused, stopping dead in her tracks. Phoebe couldn’t help but giggle, slightly embarrassed that Sophie’s rigid frame was splitting the mass herd of tired commuters walking up Church Street. It reminded her of Moses liberating the Israelites—except this was not like that. At all. She finished her question, even though it was more of a judgemental statement, “declined it?”

Phoebe pursed her lips, sticking her hand out to pull Sophie along. A male passerby in a blue suit was seemingly very annoyed.

“Come on,” she giggled.

“Only because I’m at risk of being trampled,” Sophie spoke curtly, crossing her arms and continuing their morning sojourn. She rejected Phoebe’s outstretched hand.

“Accepting it would come with a wave of teenage girls also requesting, and I really don’t need to be sifting through that. Also, I don’t know that my phone could take it,” Phoebe explained, now stopped on the corner as they waited for the LED walking man’s permission to cross the street, “just looking at my Snapchat memories crashes the damn thing.

“Plus,” Phoebe added after a brief pause, sorting the short list of reasons-not-to-jump-into-this that she’d mentally drafted the night before, “if I messaged him, he wouldn’t see it. He must get millions of DMs. And how the hell did he even find me? Bet he’s a total creep.”

“Excuses, Pheebs,” Sophie whined. She didn’t really whine, but she did in the brain of Phoebe—who didn’t want to hear it. “Just admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you’re a pussy,” Sophie spoke, but this time with a sly grin. Phoebe was many things, but a pussy was not one of them.

“You’re saying that to piss me off and then guilt me into condoning this behaviour,” Phoebe replied, trying her best not to get defensive. She was independent. Self-sufficient. Quiet, but brave. Not a pussy.

“Might be,” Sophie teased, tossing her empty coffee cup in a city garbage can as Phoebe grabbed the door to their office building, “really, though, just think about it.”

____________________

Heads had turned in the lunch room. Only three days since the incident, and Phoebe was positive they’d all seen her face on the cover of Daily Mail. She cringed.

It was like she was having a slightly more intense déjà vu as she spotted Margaret barreling in her direction, leather pants whaling “please save me” with each stride. Phoebe clenched her thighs, bracing herself for whatever was coming.

“Blondie,” Margaret called, and Phoebe tried her best not to roll her eyes. She wasn’t even blonde anymore; the winter’s lack of sunlight had turned her hair a light golden brown. But the unfortunate nickname stuck. “Phone’s for you. My office.”

The walk to Margaret’s office was nerve-wracking and so incredibly exciting that Phoebe was trying not to lose her lunch. Her space was nice. Not twentieth-floor-nice, but they were the gossip department, after all. This was as good as it could get.

“Who is it?” Phoebe asked gently, barely a whisper. She knew better than to question Margaret.

But Margaret Adams was a self-proclaimed “slut for pop culture.” And that’s why she couldn’t contain that she was ecstatic when she exclaimed, “It’s Mr. Andrew Gertler.”

Phoebe almost choked on nothing in particular. This really wasn’t going away.

Margaret sat across from her when she answered the phone. Phoebe’s eyes were trained on the roof of Kensington Market—a place she didn’t particularly like, but wished she was at in this particular moment.

“Hello?”

“Miss Bray,” she recognized the voice. It was indeed Andrew Gertler, the man who encouraged Shawn to “sell” that he was just happy to be there. What a fucked-up industry.

“Speaking,” Phoebe replied, unamused. Margaret shot her a look.

“Listen,” the man spoke, “nobody’s mad at you. That stunt you pulled was, well,” he paused, and Phoebe scraped her chapstick off her lower lip with her teeth. “Impressive. You’re sharp. You know the business. And while your actions were,” he paused again, and Phoebe’s stomach churned, “unacceptable, really, it made sense and it saved Shawn’s ass. He’s grateful.”

Phoebe nodded, and then realized he couldn’t see her, and then opened her mouth to verbally agree but Andrew was speaking again.

“It’s left us with one problem, though.”

“Uh,” she answered, meeting Margaret’s wide gaze, “yeah?”

“Shawn Mendes doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

____________________

“So?” Margaret questioned, her almost-black hair bouncing as she spoke with such animation. Phoebe wanted to crawl in a hole.

“You heard, I said I’d think about it.”

“Miss Bray,” Margaret began, and Phoebe clammed up a bit. It felt like she was in trouble, “you’re an intern for a serious magazine. And this,” she motioned to the phone, its wire coiled into an upward curve as if it was smiling at Phoebe. Mocking her, almost. “This is your department. Don’t you want this?”

“Want what?” Phoebe asked, leaning in a bit, not quite understanding.

“Phoebe,” Margaret spoke, flattening her frizzy hair to her head. It sprang up again. “You’ve been presented with the opportunity to be a part of a publicity stunt. Don’t you know how many doors that would open?”

Phoebe stared back blankly. The idea made her feel a little sick.

“Honey,” it felt as if Margaret was guilting her, now, “you’d see the ins and outs of the business. You’d meet high-profile people—the kind of people we write about. And you’d come out of it with a damn good story. One that people could read.”

That woke her up a little. Margaret was insinuating that Phoebe, an intern, might come out of this with the possibility of being published. She kept listening.

“They fly you around. You become known, people start reading us more to learn about you. You do this, Phoebe, and you’ll leave here the girl who fetches my coffee. You’ll return as a member of the team.”

Phoebe nodded and left Margaret’s office. She wondered if kickstarting a career was worth the price of dishonesty.

____________________

Andrew Gertler’s mysterious phone call was haunting, almost. It echoed in Phoebe’s ears as she rode the elevator to the fourth floor, remembering what it was like to run around the same very building as a little kid.

Her parents had split when she was only three or four months old, and her dad worked every Saturday. He’d send Phoebe to spend the day with his sister--her aunt--downtown. They did things. Explored Toronto and all its crevices, ensuring weekly day trips to places like the ROM and the AGO and the very niche, expensive shops in the Distillery District. It was magic.

Phoebe was only nineteen when her aunt died. She’d left her the apartment.

Things were so simple, then, Phoebe thought to herself with a chuckle. She once walked the winding hall as a four-year-old with nothing but the museum gift shop on her mind, but things were different now. It was time to grow up.

Phoebe was shocked to discover that Andrew seemed to have researched her entire life. He’d mentioned that he contacted the event staff and obtained a list of the names of each seat filler (which was massive). He then realized he could have just asked Rita—the headset-wearing lady with the clipboard—who it was that had planted herself in the lap of Shawn Mendes. Then he began the deep dive.

Found her Facebook, magically knew she’d attended the University of Guelph and graduated a year prior. He found it oddly convenient that like Shawn Mendes, she, too, was a Toronto native. “It makes too much sense,” he’d said. Phoebe disagreed. It made zero sense. At all.

He’d asked her if she liked her job. She answered, “I like my path.” This only encouraged Andrew, as he began to explain the benefits to her projected career that a stunt like this would provide. Phoebe couldn’t deny it—it did seem very sound.

But something was deterring her. Dishonesty? Taking part in the slime that was Hollywood? Serving the unfulfilling purpose of being nothing but a piece of arm-candy?

“Like, a prop?” she’d asked, in search of justification for the degrading feeling that was eating her from the inside-out, “I’m sorry, I just don’t see the point.”

She didn’t want to feed the beast that was show business. She knew it was toxic and unacceptable and just plain bad. But she saw the possibilities, and they were endless. This was her department. This was her—unfortunately—area of expertise. And this was her career. She was ready to call him back when her phone lit up, the pink square making her nervous. Instagram.

@shawnmendes has requested to send you a message.

She took a deep breath. Upon opening it, she laughed.

I really hope Andrew didnt scare you was all it said. It was innocent, and the lack of an apostrophe was making her antsy but she was reminded of his naivety and probable sloppiness. He was just a goofy twenty-three-year-old. And he didn’t ask for any of this.

She wasn’t sure if she was going to respond. Decided she’d sleep on it, because making decisions was always a better idea a few hours later.

Phoebe picked up her book, and Atwood’s words freaked her out.

They look around, bright-eyed, cocking their heads to one side like robins, their very cheerfulness aggressive, and I can’t help staring.

The women teeter on their spiked feet as if on stilts, but off balance; their backs arch at the waist, thrusting the buttocks out.

She wondered what she was getting herself into. Hollywood. Magazines. Glitz and glamour. She questioned if it was worth it.

We are fascinated, but also repelled.

I bet, Phoebe thought. The industry was a repulsive one. She was hesitant to read further.

“Excuse me,” he says to both of us, politely enough. “They’re asking if they can take your picture.”

The foreshadowing was uncanny. She wondered if her dead aunt or the wizard in the sky or some impossibly higher power was laughing at her from their living room in the clouds.

Modesty is invisibility.

It is in this business.

“Excuse me,” says the interpreter again, to catch our attention. I nod, to show I’ve heard him.

“He asks, are you happy,” says the interpreter. I can imagine it, their curiosity: Are they happy? How can they be happy?

Phoebe wondered if she was happy, and if she was about to become far less happy. If stepping into the public eye would make her into the shell of a woman that she feared so deeply.

We are secret, forbidden, we excite them.

Phoebe’s plump lips turned upward at the corners. Somewhere deep down, she longed to be a muse. A puppet, something to get the people talking. She thirsted for that power.

“Yes, we are very happy,” I murmur. I have to say something. What else can I say?

Her thumbs were unlocking her phone and typing a reply faster than her brain could stop her.

taglist: @ssweet-empowerment @tamegray @loveat2 @heyits-claire @martinimendes @shxwnmxndess @sunriseshawn @jollybonkpatroldonkey @jesuscheistkaren@casuallycoolcloud @sinplisticshawn @deafeningdeanhoagieturtle @rosieblondie @hannahlouiseee @change-perspective13 @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @calthesensation @livsalzy

#shawn mendes #since were alone #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes imagine #imagine shawn mendes #shawn mendes fi #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #mendesarmy #since we're alone #roommates

[avengers-nextgen]

The Aftermath XIV

“Try again,” Bucky encouraged, moving to help Bianca stand, “you’ll get there.”

Sweat covered Bianca’s skin in a thick layer, her arms shook as she gripped the metal rails, and her legs seemed like lead weights beneath her. She balanced awkwardly for a moment, sucking in sharp labored breathes, before settling weight upon her legs. They never buckled until she moved.

Nervously, she went to shuffle forward. Her right foot responded with a twitch, a tiny shuffle, but nothing more and as she moved her weight the floor came rushing back. Bianca landed with a loud thud like before, arm cracking on the ground, body jarred by impact, embarrassment and anger coursing through her. A frustrated sound tumbled through her lips as her metallic hand punched viciously into the metal railing. The post buckled on impact.

“You can’t keep ruining these. I know you’re frustrated but destroying things meant to help you isn’t going to do anything,” Bucky shook his head solemnly as his daughter clutched the bar overhead. With a grunt of exertion she pulled herself up off the ground with nothing but arm strength to settle angrily back in the waiting wheelchair.

“No, come on,” Bucky frowned, “try again.

“I’ve tried a dozen times,” Bianca snapped. “I’m done. If I keep falling I’ll break something else.”

“A dozen times isn’t going to get you anywhere,” he protested, moving to squat in front of her. Bianca’s eyes were hard as steel, her brow furrowed angrily, and her jaw was clenched tight enough to leave a muscle standing at attention in her cheek. “You made more progress the first week than this. You tried twice as much.”

“I’m stuck,” Bianca growled, “and I’m not getting past a shuffle. I’ve been doing this for days! Weeks! Nothing is different okay? Why does it matter if I do twelve tries today and sixteen tomorrow?”

“Listen,” Bucky frowned, “I know this is hard for you-“

“You don’t,” Bianca’s eyes narrowed, “you think you do but you don’t. Okay? You haven’t had this. You don’t get it and you won’t so stop trying to sympathize with me.”

“I do understand. Maybe better than anyone,” Bucky replied.

“No. You don’t.” Bianca insisted.

“I get you’re angry but I’m trying to help you. You have people on your side. I’m not the enemy. Sage, Steve, Alex, Natasha, everyone is here to help you,” Bucky stood once more.

“I don’t want your help! I didn’t ask for your help!” Bianca cried. “I don’t want this!”

“You think I want this for you? I don’t. You think I don’t want to hurt the kid that did this? I do. But I know what it’s like to make mistakes and lose control of yourself,” Bucky’s gaze hardened as he studied the girl before him. She was so angry. There was no more of that quiet wonder in her. It’d been replaced by a cold and frigid rage.

“Listen, you and me may be the same genetic code but we’re not the same. I don’t have something to go back to. All I have is what I am. What I am now and what I was since I was born. You could lose something and still be Bucky. I can’t. All I have is this,” Bianca gestured to herself. “I’m not Bucky the soldier who defended Steve Rogers. The war hero who went missing. I’m Bianca born from some test tube. I don’t know who I am! Everything I was is disappearing. My arm, my spine, my ability to walk, my-my identity.”

“You’re Bianca Olivia Barnes,” Bucky spoke with such ferocity it was nearly frightening, “and you’re my daughter. That’s who you are.”

“I don’t want to just be your shadow!” Tears fell loose from Bianca’s eyes tumbling into her lap like glittering diamonds. “I don’t want to be here. I wish I’d been a failed experiment like all of the others. And I don’t want you to tell me that I’m being foolish. Because I’m not! This is how I feel and I want it. Okay? I want to disappear. I want to start over with a fair shot like everyone else.”

“Life’s not fair,” Bucky’s voice came in a strained whisper, “we both know that.”

Bianca watched as he sulked off. She knew she’d been harsh with him. It wasn’t his fault this had happened but she was angry. Angry that any of this happened to begin with. Hot tears decorated her cheeks in frustrating waterfalls and she sat in silence for long enough to know that no one was coming to get her. She was okay with that. She wanted space.

Swallowing hard, Bianca wheeled over to sit in front of the empty tank still prominent in the spare room. She hated the thing. She imagined that’s what she lived in during all those gaps in time. Where they brainwashed her into some soldier. Some weapon meant to kill.

“Ah, wrong room,” A voice muttered, and the sound of shoes squeaking on the floor greeted Bianca’s ears.

“Your shoes are too big,” she noted.

“Huh?”

“Your shoes are too big. They slip on the heel making them rub the floor,” Bianca replied.

“They’re not mine,” was the response, “I borrowed them.”

“I know,” Bianca turned about to find Drew in a hodge podge of clothes. She wore a jacket with large sleeves that tapered at the wrist, pants cuffed at odd lengths, and shoes with mismatched socks. It was so ridiculous Bianca thought of laughing. “You’re uncomfortable.”

“It fits...odd,” Drew remarked. Bianca noticed the faintest bit of an accent in the alien’s words. “You’re Bianca. I recall meeting you. You...defended me.”

“I see you’re no longer completely apathetic,” Bianca noted.

“That wasn’t me.”

“So the memory recovery really worked,” Bianca nodded. “Congratulations.”

“Will it work for you?” Drew asked, messing with a pant leg.

“No,” Bianca shook her head. “I have no memories to recover.”

“I was told you had a similar situation as me,” Drew frowned.

“Yes, but I have no memories to recover. I had none to forget.”

“Oh,” Drew shifted nervously. “You’re trying to walk, yes?”

“It’s going horribly.”

“Perhaps you should try running first,” Drew tilted her head, before seeming to recall she’d been looking for something. Bianca was left to ponder the stupidity of Drew’s words.

Run first? She couldn’t even walk let alone crawl. There was no way in hell she was going to run first. Angered once more, Bianca wheeled over to the mangled bars from her numerous outbursts. Pulling herself upright, Bianca kept her balance. Run? Stupid idea. What was the girl even thinking? There was no way to run. As if to prove the philosophy wrong then and there, Bianca moved in a burst of determination to not run. Thank you very much.

Her right foot shuffled like before followed with an extremely delayed left and the stumbling of her right again. Like hell she’d run. Catching herself so she wouldn’t fall, Bianca attempted the stupid feat once more.

— — —

“B!” Alex called, tossing her a frisbee. “You gotta check it out. It glows in the dark.”

Alex flicked the lights to Bianca’s room off. The soldier hesitantly tossed the disc. Sure enough it glowed. “Cool.”

“We’re gonna play a game tonight when it’s dark. Think you can play keeper?” Alex asked, turning the lights back on.

“I’d rather stay in,” Bianca decided, “but you can tell me all about it tomorrow if you want.”

“Oh, okay,” Alex nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. “Guess, I’ll go see if someone wants to fill in.”

“They’ll be a better fit,” Bianca promised. Alex left with a faint slump to her shoulders.

Sure enough, Bianca remained inside that night content with sitting by the kitchen table watching a fly buzz about.

“I have a question,” Drew’s voice interrupted Bianca’s thoughts. “Perhaps you have a mother who can help you?”

“She’s dead.”

“I-I see,” Drew stammered, “my apologies. I didn’t know.”

“The only relative I have is my dad. He’s no help,” Bianca snorted.

“Anyone who knew your mother?” Drew arched a brow.

“Why do you care?” The question came out harsh. Drew visibly recoiled.

“Well, I just think it’s unfair that I got help and you’re stuck,” Drew decided, giving one of her apathetic shrugs. The gesture was infuriating.

“I don’t need people to feel bad for me. The only person who knew my mom was some lady,” Bianca glared.

“Do you know who she is?”

“No. If I did I would have talked to her.”

“Did you look for her?” Drew insisted.

“She was someone mom cared enough about to try and carry a kid for her. That’s how I got here. She was scammed by some freak and wiped off the grid. If anything, her friend is dead. Everyone I know says she is,” Bianca sneered.

“Computers don’t count as people you know,” Drew remarked, tilting her head like a bird analyzing prey. “Maybe you should look into this woman.”

“Maybe you should mind your own damn business,” Bianca growled, knuckles tightening in a flash of metal and light. “Or learn when conversations need to be over.”

“Sorry,” Drew apologized, but it didn’t reach her face. The girl had mastered apathy. She’d been so out of place earlier but all of a sudden it was like she didn’t care about anything going on. Bianca supposed it was because Drew was in control of the situation. She could afford not to give a crap.

“Whatever.”

“B,” Penny panted, pausing in front of the tension filled scene. “You gotta take a look at this. Orion can catch a frisbee with his mouth. I don’t know how, but it’s possible, and it’s hysterical.”

“Maybe I will,” Bianca glanced wearily at her friend, gladly giving Drew the cold shoulder. “It’s probably some stupid thing he practiced when bored.”

“I don’t know but it’s amazing,” Penny giggled, following Bianca back towards the door leading outside.

“Max,” Drew shook her head, “how could you be so foolish to trust someone like Killian?”

Sighing, she shed the ridiculous jacket revealing something more her speed. A dark shirt with ripped sleeves. “And to think I trusted him too.”

#avengers #avengers next gen #marvel #mcu #black widow #captain america #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #romanogers #scarlet witch #theaftermath #phase3 #bianca barnes #drew

[punchlinesf]

Catching Up With Louis Katz

Louis Katz: Hey Ronn, do you mind if I call you back in a few? I just wanted to grab some lunch.

Ronn Vigh: No problem. I’ll be here.

*25 minutes later*

LK: Hey, thanks for that. It took longer than expected because I accidentally locked myself out of the room.

RV: Oh boy! And you’re currently in Vegas, so that could be a two mile walk just to pick up a new room key. How is performing in Vegas for you? With all the extra stimulus, do you find it more challenging than somewhere like San Francisco?

LK: Well the main attraction here is not attractive to me so it’s not distracting in that way. Though, I haven’t done Vegas in 10 years. I’ve done Atlantic City and I forgot how much on another level Vegas is from there. Atlantic City is shitty Vegas on a dirty beach in the hood.

RV: Hey, watch it! That’s my home state and unfortunately a sad but extremely accurate description. Like most of us in San Francisco, you’re not originally from here but the cover of your first album, If These Balls Could Talk, looks very familiar.

LK: That’s the Broadway Tunnel. I’m originally from Los Angeles but went to school in the Bay Area and stayed there for three or four years after that doing stand-up. I had a photo shoot all around San Francisco. I try to be on top of all levels of production and aesthetics. I’m happy with all the album covers even if they don’t match the content. The title did a lot of the work for me, so why put a hat on a hat when it’s already ridiculous.

RV: A comic’s career typically sees a lot of highs and lows. You’re most recent album, Katzkills, came out last year and you’ve also had a variety of TV appearances from a Comedy Central half-hour special to late night. With such success, does a career in stand up feel more stable to you now or do those highs and lows just become more extreme?

Oh, there are so many highs and lows. Really, it’s highs and lows every second your on stage- every sixth word you say can be a success or a failure. That’s the microcosm of it. And the macrocosm is that it shouldn’t be about getting famous, it should be about the art. However, you have to become famous in order to get it to be about the art. Why should someone book you if people don’t come out? It’s simple economics. I get it. I’ve been doing stand up for so long now that it averages out and I’ve become more mentally able to handle those ups and downs, as that’s the constant. I still freak out though. I have all this work in the next three months then no work for infinity. At this point, I know somehow shit works out…. But I’m still quietly panicking.

RV: You’re from Los Angeles and live in New York City, which are fairly progressive and large cities. As a comic, do you ever find it challenging to relate to audiences from the “in-between” areas.

LK: I’m continually trying to step up my game to a whole other level. Well, it’s hard to do that here in Vegas because the quality of audience is up and down, since comedy is just a distraction from gambling for a little bit. However, I have found a lot of luck in smaller towns or cities that are liberal enclaves. My first album was recorded in Sacramento and I recently did gigs in Tacoma and found them to be aware, smart, progressive but not so uptight where they overthink things. They can still laugh at jokes! Though, I’m not really picky. If they want to pay me, I’ll show up and work it out.

 RV: You’ve been doing comedy for a long time…

 LK: 18 years in June.

 RV: Do you think the craft has changed, for better or for worse, since you started in San Francisco?

LK: Honestly, yes. The last time I was at a showcase, I noticed something that really bothered me. A lot of comics were starting jokes with an apology or a trigger warning. I only assume they are doing that because they feel a need to do so based on the audiences they’ve been in front of. To me, that ruins comedy. It’s adding unnecessary fat to the joke. So, if you’re adding, that’s the mistake. It should be a surprise. The set up should sound like either it is or not fucked up and then take a turn. There shouldn’t be a warning, the audience should be taken by surprise! As a result of this, I feel like comedy is becoming much more reserved.

RV: What do you remember most about starting out in comedy at Punch Line?

 LK: Oh man, I was so young when I started. At the time I didn’t think I was that young but compared to all the comics I felt young, I swear they were all in their early-thirties and there I was, 22.  When I was going to Berkeley, I didn’t leave the East Bay that much, so it was a lot of fun taking BART to the comedy club and seeing all kinds of crazy shit. There was a real romance to it. Then at the club, I would sit back and watch comics who were light-years ahead of my ability level. Those guys had acts, polish, people were paying to see them. It was more than just waiting around for my turn…. it was really special and really formative. It taught me much more than any school I went to. All of my success in comedy, whether it be getting on Comedy Central or a Just For laughs audition, it can all be directly linked to starting as a comic at the Punch Line.

RV: Does comedy feel more competitive than when you started?

LK: Yea, it is crazy how many people do stand-up now. It is great in the sense that more people do it and there will be more fans of it but to some extent that also waters everything down.

RV: Do you think social media and sites like You Tube are influential in creating more stand-up comedians?

LK: I think it’s directly linked to YouTube. Stand-up started in foreign countries because they couldn’t see it before then. It’s about 2009-2010, when it all changes. People are getting that DIY spirit and starting scenes in their towns but also there is a limit and a ceiling. It’s not like having a band. You can’t just stay in a garage and get better and better and better. You have to be in front of an audience.

RV: Has anybody ever given you a piece of comedy advice that stuck with you all these years?

LK: The very first open mic I went to, I saw Tony Sparks, who local comics often refer to as ‘The Godfather of San Francisco Comedy.’ He broke down the basic things for me: always have a notepad, audio and video record sets and listen to them. It’s very simple and basic stuff but valuable. I keep a whole document of comedy tips and philosophies…. It’s surprising how much I still keep learning. You think that you’ve hit a wall but then you figure it out…. Things like that keep me going.

RV: Oh, that is super advice! Has there been any advice along the way that you received, that you probably shouldn’t have listened to?

LK: Yea, I was still featuring (the middle spot) and a great comic said to me, “I don’t think that person you’re being on stage is really who you are.” For the next six months, I just toned down my whole stage performance to the point where it was just monotone. It turns out that me doing something “more natural” ends up seeming totally unnatural. I see what he was getting at, but it just wasn’t right for me. It’s great to get advice, but ultimately, you really got to figure it out on your own.

  Louis Katz headlines at Punch Line San Francisco, May 30 – June 1. Prices and show times vary. Tickets can be purchased at punchlinecomedyclub.com

#comedy

[mauveviolet]

Plssssss write Elio and Oliver years down the road meeting up again, Elio is a student st the same university Oliver teaches at and I need a lot of angst in my life, slowwwww burn. Pretty pretty please

AN: Here it is, the prologue of a PROJECTED 10 chapters. Might be more might be less! Sorry this took so long! this has not been Beta'd, sorry for any mistakes! Please enjoy, anon! And yes, i stay consistent with a chosen last name for Oliver, haha."Concrete Trees" -Prologue"Mama. Mama, I said I’m fine.”I spin in my rolling chair idly as the cellular takes up the broad of my hand. I catch the foggy, almost mundane grey light outside of my apartment window one, two, three times before I come to a sudden halt with the skid of a sock, and I stand up dizzily. “I miss you to, Mama. But it’s only been a few days, you must at least try to last the semester. Just this one, okay?” She mumbles.I bounce on my toes over the boxes that scatter my floor. Porcelain keepsakes pile in one with paper wrapped securely around them while in the other clothes seem to reach the ceiling. The ultimate privilege to nabbing my own apartment in New York as a student was the ability to make my own messes. I’m an adult, I told mama, she has nothing to worry about in terms of keeping the place neat and tidy, and while I’m sure I will, some of the things she doesn’t know won’t kill her.“I’ll be home for Hanukkah, I’m sure I’m not the only one here who’s far from home in a place like this. Maybe you should get together with a mom from Germany who sent her son away to New York, too.” I giggle as I rip my phone from my ear abruptly to keep from her cries from hitting me to loudly. “I’m just joking. This was 100% my choice and you know that. We’ve been through this hundreds of times. Everything will be alright, I’ll find another 22 year old who’s too far from home somewhere around here. Maybe they’ll be from Italy.”I pad over to my large window that poses as a portal to what seems like an alternate reality, one with cars in every free centimeter of the hot pavement and people of every race and religion wandering the street aimlessly. If i looked a little too far to my right, I’d be peering straight into someone else's apartment, which doesn’t sit in my stomach well, so I opt to keep my right curtain closed, both for my privacy and the mystery person both feet from me yet, in the grand scheme of things, so far away. I’ve never been so far in the air in my life, minus that dreadful plane ride, if you can even call it that. It’s a huge death tube, I think, but the others around me treated it as if it was normal. The conversation lasts for what seems like hours. Some “highlights” being my grocery list, how much money I’llnspend on tourism in the next year, all those fun things. But at least by the time our talk has ended, my apartment is less of an apartment and moreso a home. The ambiance is red and orange to match the lamp in the corner, there’s a little couch and TV set by a rug all my own, and shelves upon shelves of books I couldn’t emotionally bare to leave in Italy stand at the walls, along with pictures of my family at every corner.“Oliver went to Columbia,” my mama says, finally. Lastly.I swallow. I know Oliver went to Columbia. I pretend I haven’t thought about that so many times it’s burnt a hole through my skull.“Yeah, I know. Last time I spoke to him he said he said he, uh,” I pull on my shirt collar.“Went to work at another school. In another state. Illinois, I think.”“When was the last time you spoke to Oliver, Elio?” I feel the heaviness of the curious pity within her voice like one feels lead pass through their bloodstream. Unfavorable… in the least. “I’m going out, mama. I need to eat in the next week, I should get started on those groceries.”The pause, that evidently only lasts a moment, drags on until she finally responds.“I love you, Elio. Stay safe.”“Always, mama. I love you too.”After deciding it was to humid to shove a jacket over my shoulders and trudging outside in just a black shirt and jeans, I ask myself as I sit on a damp park bench with paper grocery bags sat politely next to me, if I am forcing myself to think about Oliver rather than if it is worth it to think about him. The past was the past when I was in Italy and the past remains the same in Manhattan, but I feel his energy in everything that moves; I feel something coercing me into the thought of him. Life here is chaotic and beautiful. I learned that from Oliver, and because at 17 his worlds mended to me as words do at that age, he lives in the bleeding red light fractured through the water on my eyelashes. He lifts the cruelty from honks and yells of frustrated and busy people. I’m unsure if it’s comforting or not.I decide that due to the increasing rain (and my sheer stupidity in not correlating humidity with storms) that it’s time to aquate myself with the New York subway system, as reluctant as I am. Hands full and swerving around people left and right, I realize how crowded and cluttered it is, but it’s also so exciting to see such a staple in culture unlike mine. Oliver must have rode these everyday before he received a car. I’m riding a mile or two in his shoes.I wait for the subway, now. I shuffle my ticket between my fingers, pressed to the wall furthest from the track ledge. I had taken one glimpse of that sickening fall and had eagerly conjoined myself the furthest thing from it, as if nowhere was far enough to keep myself from falling in.There's a boy a foot away from me, but he stands in front of the ledge. No fear consumes him as it does to me. His leg jitters in a pair of huge sneakers and off white jeans (maybe coveralls?), shrouded in a soft flannel and a green bookbag covered in mini pins and keychains, one that looks like a row of hanging dice on rainbow beads that spell “Percy.” One says Columbia on it- in fact, multiple do. A returning student.How much older is he than me? From behind he looks no different than me; curly brown hair but cut short, a little taller but just as thin. His head swivels left and right eagerly, as if the Eastbound train will emerge from the Eastern terminal. He’s not afraid of the ledge because, like a seasoned New Yorker, the ledge has gotten to know him.I find it peculiar that I think so hard about strangers, but sometimes you can tell so little about a person by how they look and you’re forced to sit and wonder. I knew all about Oliver and even yet, I still sit and wonder so strongly about him.Where was this boy from? Was he American? European? Or maybe Canadian? I’d never met a Canadian, but I hear the land is a conglomerate of Ireland's fields and New York’s buildings. Some canadians speak a french many would say is “botched” though I’ve never really heard it, and some of the more interesting ones speak english like I’ve never heard before. It’d be cool to meet a Canadian.When the train pulls up, the station comes alive again as people scramble to catch a seat and they squeeze through the doors. He’s the first one in, but I let the mass push through; I don’t mind standing. I hobble through to one of the only handles left, near the back of the subway car. To my disdain there is a couple here displaying affection I wouldn’t call publically appropriate, and an older man already passed out asleep. If i stretch on my tip-toes, I can hear a saxophone playing on the other side of the train but only barely see the player. However, my eye catches the boy again. I notice now how freckles fleck the entire surface area of his face and glasses frame his cheeks. He plays a gameboy with concentration I’ve only seen in my father, which is a feat. At the first stop, that concentration fades, and he notices my staring. Instead of being weirded out (as, admittedly, I would be) he hesitantly motions for me to sit in the spot next to him now unoccupied. I accept, placing my bags on my lap and crossing my legs, making a point not to stare at him more than I already have. But curiosity gets the best of me. “You… you go to Columbia?”He looks at me, almost surprised that I had actually opened my mouth.“Yeah… why?”“I’m a first year.”“A freshman?”I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, that.” He boots his Gameboy up again. “I’m assuming you aren’t American. You look like a deer caught in headlights.” He’s extremely casual for someone I wouldn’t have met had I not stared at him so indecently. “Italian. But my father is American. I’ve never been here though, so, yeah… Italian.” “What brings you to Columbia then? No good Italian schools? What’s your major?”I didn’t know what to expect when I sat next to this boy, but I can’t say I’m surprised. “Double major in Anthropology and Philosophy, and a minor in Music.” He still doesn’t raise his head from his game. “That’s a real boatload. I’m just doing Integrated Technologies and a minor in education.”“Education? You want to be a professor? My father is a professor, he did the same things I’m doing actually.”“I’d love to be a highschool teacher.”I visibly gulp at the sound of that. I can’t imagine having to stay any longer than I did in a school full of sweaty teenagers. Hell, I was one once, I don’t think I’d want to go back.“Oh, uh,” he interjects.“I actually know what professor you’re likely to have if you’re completing an anthropology major.”“Hm?”“Yeah, he’s quite strict in how things are taught according to my buddies, but it’s the sign of a good teacher. He loves when people interact with him in class; he hates a boring class. He won’t have it. But don’t goof off…I don’t know much- anything, about you, so I don’t know how you’ll fare with that. I wouldn’t be quiet if you were in his class but don’t be slack.”He sounds like an okay guy. I’ll be with people like me, it seems. “What’s his name?”“Professor Bishop. You’ll know him when you see him. Tall, blonde, and stubbly. Younger than most of the professors. You’ll know him when you see him.” My face goes Appalachians snow white and a stack of apples are moments away from hitting the subway floor. “What’s his first name?”“Uh, I’m not sure. Ollie? Owen? Oliver- Yeah, that’s it. Oliver… You okay dude?”

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 4

Despite my throbbing head, Friday flew by. I tried not to check my phone every 38 seconds, but failed. I wanted him to text me, but he had to do it first. I don’t play by “The Rules” usually (hmmmm, given my dating history, maybe I should try) but out of sheer anxiety I never call or text first. It doesn’t mean that I don’t bite my nails while waiting, however. And more than once I’ve basically bitten a whole finger off waiting for a message that never came. I tried to distract myself at work by helping in the office in between appointments, explaining some procedures to Rose’s replacement (I’m sure telling her the total wrong thing). At lunch I decided to take a walk to occupy myself, but ended up sitting in the tea shop seven doors down eating a chocolate croissant and sipping Earl Grey. I was wearing ballet flats - there’s simply not enough arch support for a walk. Plus, my afternoon appointments didn’t need to see me sweaty. It was in the best interest of my patients. I was a woman of the people.

That evening Carly and I went to see Kinky Boots on the West End. It was my favorite and Carly had gotten box seats through someone at work. We sang like ninnies throughout the show, laughing and carrying on. Afterwards we hit a swank gastro-pub she’d heard about. As we settled in and were chatting about our days, she dropped the bomb I knew she’d been dying to ask, “So, Niall?”

“Nope.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“Yep. Spill.”

“Well yes, young Niall. He’s a friend of a friend. Perhaps you’ve noticed him at quiz night. Blonde thing, Irish?”

Biting into the olive in her martini, she stuck her tongue out at me. “Seems like he’s more than a friend of a friend. You two were almost snogging last night.”

“I was just playing with his hair. It was innocent. I do that to Paulie all the time.”

“Paul doesn’t practically drool on your boobs when you play with his hair. And he doesn’t look that cozy, either.”

“Stop.”

“Z,” she started. “He rea-...”

“No, Carly. I said stop.” I knew my irritation was evident. I had no poker face - anything I thought or felt was always on display. “Listen, he’s really nice and all the other stuff. But it’s nothing. NOTHING.” She tried to interrupt and I held up my hand. “Don’t. I will not get my hopes up. Because every time someone shows me interest I get a little excited, and I am not doing that anymore. It never ends well, and I��m not putting myself through it again. Remember Adam?” I took a long drink of my martini (Ketel One, extra dirty) and stared at her.

“Right. He was a dick.”

“He was a dick who lead me on for two months and then Aaron found out he had a girlfriend in Leeds. And before him there was Sam, and, um, Robbie. In college there was Dave. High school was Sean. And Kyle The Worst.  I’m not doing it. Short of Niall Horan tattooing my name on his ass, I will not believe this is anything more than friendship.” For emphasis, I smacked my hand on the table, startling the tables around us. I eyeballed people who were looking, and stuck my tongue out at a kid about 7 who was staring. Like a sensible human being, he stuck his back out at me.

I’d been unable to get over my hissy fit with Carly, so we called it a night after one drink and no dinner. She hugged me outside of the pub. “Sorry, Z. I didn’t mean to upset you. But don’t shut him down. Friend or whatever, I think he’d be a good guy to keep around.” I nodded at her and hugged her back. I wasn’t mad at her really - she said the same things I would have said if the tables were turned. But Carly didn’t have my history with men, so she couldn’t understand where I was coming from. Sigh. I dug around my purse and found an emergency Valium in my container of miscellaneous pills, swallowing it as the cab sped towards my flat.

I slept late Saturday and Sunday mornings (okay, I sleep late every weekend) and ran errands. I’d begrudgingly let Hannah talk me into hot yoga on the condition that we got pancakes afterwards. I spent the rest of my free time on laundry, had dinner and wine at one of the other therapist’s in my office’s house, and caught up on paperwork. My friends all avoided any mention of Niall - I was assuming Carly had made everyone aware of my meltdown Friday night and they were tiptoeing around me. I was okay with that, though. I didn’t post on Instagram, but went on a few rants on Twitter. Nothing exciting happened, not that I expected it to. Sadly my philosophy on life was to set low expectations and never be disappointed.  

Monday began earlier than I expected when my texts notifications dinged at 6:30 (my alarm was set for 6:45 - those 15 minutes make a huge difference). Having been raised to believe that no good came of late night or early morning phone calls, and having adapted this to texting as well, I fumbled for my phone, knocking it off the nightstand. Trying to get to it as soon as possible (Did someone need bail money? Had my sister-in-law finally snapped and murdered my brother?), I fell off the bed. Happy fucking Monday.

Niall. The text was from Niall. I rubbed the tiny knot rising on my forehead (which I knew would swelll into a goose egg by the time the morning was over), and opened it.

“Dragged everyone to quiz night . Not the same without ya !

“I’m shite at the science questions-wish ya were here Z .”

Holy fuck beans. I was wide awake now. As I processed this info, another text came in.

“Oh, and it’s trivia night here . Not quiz night . Americans ;) .”

That was flirty. It was definitely flirty. There was a wink emoji. I took a screenshot of the conversation and sent it to Hannah.

“HELP!”

“HELP!

“HANNAH LOUISE GET UP! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!”

“omg. he texted you! he’s flirting! that’s total flirting!”

“i’m totally squealing for you, btw”

“Right? Me too!”

“what did you say back?”

Fuck. I needed to respond.

“I haven’t. Shit, what do I say?”

“be clever.”

“Oh, that’s helpful.”

“z, it’s 6:40 on a monday morning. you’re lucky i’m awake.”

Okay, I can do this. I carried my phone (like it was my precious baby) into the kitchen while I started my Nespresso. I tried typing in several witty answers and deleted them before I could hit send.

“Sorry, my friend. You hit the quiz night goldmine with us on your first try. And damn those dirty Americans :)”

When I didn’t get a response in a few minutes, I gave up and started to get ready for the day. In the shower (washing your hair actually causes ideas to get loose, I swear) I thought of several comebacks that would have been much better. Damn. No response as I gave my hair a quick blow dry (then gave up and put it in a bun), tossed on my fast weekday makeup (BB cream, a quick swipe of eyeliner, and mascara...lipstick could be done on the tube), and tossed on a pair of gray khakis and a navy sweater. Nothing. Bullocks. I reminded myself that this was the exact reason I didn’t want to get excited about Niall in the first place-it was too easy to get caught up and let my emotions get dictated by someone else. With a concerned effort, I turned off my phone and tossed it in my bag.

When I finished with my 3:00 appointment, one of the part-time admins was standing outside of the treatment room we’d been in. “Zoe, you need to call a Hannah back as soon as possible. She’s called three times since lunch and sounds like she’s really upset. I hope everything is okay.”

Damn it, Hannah, you drama queen. I went into my (tiny) office and retrieved my phone, turning it on. 14 texts from Hannah, 8 from Paul, 2 each from Jess and Carly, and 1 from Brian. She’d sent in the troops. As I scrolled through, I saw one more I’d missed in my initial perusal - Niall. First things first, though: Hannah. I called her extension at work and she picked up, “Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

“Wow, that’s a professional way to answer the phone. I’m fine. Turned my phone off this morning.”

“Did he not text back?” People were shouting numbers behind her and the mere idea of it gave me a rash.

“Not right away, and I didn’t want to keep looking at the phone. Just checked it since you freaking called the hounds out on me. He responded.”

“And?”

“And what? I didn’t read it yet. I called you before Scotland Yard showed up at my office.”  

“Well fucking read it!” her high pitched voice pierced the line. Ouch.

“I’ll text you shortly. Call off the posse, I’m safe.” I ended the call and stared at the phone a minute. Here goes nothing.

“I did hit the jackpot for quiz mates . Brains and beauty .”

I gasped. Literally gasped. And dropped my phone, narrowly missing my mid-afternoon San Pellegrino. Beauty. BEAUTY. But mate. But beauty. But mate. Gah! This is why my spinster plan was a good idea. Copied the text and sent to Hannah with my own “WTF?” note.

I hammered out a quick response, “Yeah, Paul’s quite the catch. You did well.” It was almost 7 am in Los Angeles (thanks, Google, because time zone math always tricked me). I didn’t figure Niall for an early riser, so back in the bag went the phone and I went into my 4:00 with Elliott, one of my favorite kids.

On the tube home I couldn’t resist and looked again. Nothing. So I did what any sensible person would do and ordered eggplant parmigiana take away. I got into my flat, changed into an old t-shirt - pants were totally optional in my house, took out my contacts, and plopped my ass down with my dinner. My Netflix and chill date was Italian and delicious. A little saucy, though.

At 9:30 my phone dinged with a text. I was half asleep and could feel the pattern from the sofa pillow indented in my face. I grabbed it and saw a text from Niall.

“Paul is a nice looking chap . Not who I had in mind, tho .”

Well fuck this, I was no good at playing cute. Trying to come up with a way to come and ask him if he was hinting at liking me, I heard another ding.

“Want to facetime? I’ll turn on the Lumineers and sing to ya .”

Oh, fate, you’re a cruel mistress. I didn’t even want to know what I looked like right now. There was marinara on the front of my shirt, and I’m sure some on my face. I highly doubted that my makeup had lasted for 14 hours. And I had dragon breath. (I know, he wouldn’t be able to smell it because we hadn’t invented that technology yet, but I’d know.) I pondered if I could put him off long enough to take a shower, get a blow out, and properly contour and highlight my face. Instead I opted for a coy response.

“What fun would your singing be if I couldn’t play with your hair?”

“I’m not really up for FT right now - Monday slug night. Talk, though?”

One minute and 43 seconds later, my phone rang.

I finally hung up the phone at 00:18, GMT. My cheeks hurt from the smile I was rocking. At one point I'd laughed so hard as Niall told me about being chased by stadium security guards on his Segway that I got the hiccups. He, in turn, laughed so hard he had a coughing fit. “We’re a right mess, aren’t we?” he said as we both calmed down, an occasional chuckle between us. “Suppose we are. But at least we’re entertaining.” By this time I’d abandoned the living room and crawled into bed, almost purring when my back hit the mattress.

“What are you doing?” he asked in almost a whisper.

“Getting comfy. Just laid down in bed. It’s my happy place.” The silence on the other end of the line was obvious. Did I just freak him out? I wasn’t trying to get all sexy times, I just got into bed. My shirt and panties were still in place, for God’s sake. “Uh, I didn’t mean happy place like sex. Well, I mean, I guess that happens here, too, well, has happened here, but I’m just, um, laying down. Ya know, it’s late and my bed is warm.” The babbling.must.stop. “I just really like to sleep.”

His chuckle calmed my nerves. “I like to sleep, too, Z. I guess I was just thinking about you gettin’ cozy in your pajamas.” The tiny yelp noise I made echoed through my room. And the phone. But before I could get awkward, Niall beat me to it.

“Not perverted. Well, maybe a little.” I could already see him pulling at the front of his hair while he tried to explain himself. He let out that damned adorable chuckle again and continued. “I just think you’d look cute curled up in a big bed with lots of blankets. Probably one your gran made ya or something like that.”

My heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to explode. Unable to handle the sweetness, I laughed and said, “Do you have a camera or something in here? I thought you weren’t being perverted?” And I pulled the quilt my Grandma Bechtel made me in elementary school up closer to my chin. It scared me (in a good way, not a Jamie Dornan in The Fall kind of way) that he could imagine a scenario that was basically right on.

“I’ll keep my perverted thoughts to myself, promise. At least for now.”

Okay, well I’ll be good and goddamned if my panties weren’t on fire. “You’re testing my restraint here, Horan. I’m a good girl.”

“I have a feeling anything I say here is going to lead us down a bad path.” His voice had dropped an octave, though, and I could practically SEE the sexual tension in the air. “And, for the record, uh, I think you’re a very good girl, Z.”

Struggling to keep my heart from actually packing up and abandoning my chest, I managed to respond.  “I think I should say goodnight, Niall. Or good afternoon in your part of the world.” I barely recognized my own voice. It sounded a little higher and throatier than usual. Oh my god. It was my horny voice. I wasn’t usually in a position to actually listen to myself.

“Yeah I guess it is late there. You go and enjoy your beauty sleep. Not that ya need beauty sleep, I just mean I hope you sleep well. You’re already beautiful. Just, uh, sweet dreams, Z.”

Wow.

[jynnoona-blog]

Mireu (M)

So very first fic I’m posting ever, wrote this in a  hurry might add more to it at some point to go more into him being a dragon hybrid.

Got the inspiration from Jheartseok, their dragon jungkook made my mind spiral off into dragon joon.

________________________________________________________________

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, hybrid AU!, College AU!

Summary: It’s trash

-------

“Fuck why is this so high up” You cursed under your breath trying to reach a book you really needed, standing on your tippy toes while on a small step stool you tried your best to reach the book. “Stupid ass arms, grow!” you growled at yourself for not being very tall, your arms were fairly long but not long enough apparently.

One bad thing about going to a co-species university was that the library was far larger than any other and because of certain hybrids they could just fly up or jump up to grab something up too high, the librarians were suppose to help with it but you were out of luck when searching for one to help you, usually owl hybrids were the ones in the library but today it seemed like it was completely void of all help.

Deciding to just jump a little your fingers touched the book, “Almost there!” you squeaked as you jumped again, grabbing the corner of the book you pulled it out but as you did the stood seemed to wobble unsteadily. “Shit!” you cursed as you felt yourself fall backwards, though you realized someone had caught you fairly quickly. Looking at the person who’d caught you your eyes widened a bit, he looked like some dark prince straight out of one of your crappy romance novels.

The dimples on his cheeks mesmerized you, the man smirked at your surprise. “You alright?” he asked, his deep voice seeming to vibrate through your body, nodding you clutched the book tightly to your chest. “You should just ask for help next time instead of jumping like a frog on a broken step stool” he chuckled.

“Broken..?” you asked, looking down at the stool that indeed had a crack in the leg, though you weren’t sure if that was before or after you had jumped on it. Clearing your throat lightly you felt his arms tighten a little around you as he held you princess style, your face flushed red in embarrassment.

“My name’s Namjoon, I’m a librarian here by the way” he said staring at you with sky blue eyes, taking in his looks you noticed his hair was a grape purple. “Beautiful” you muttered without thinking, the contrast of his purple hair and blue eyes was indeed beautiful. He chuckled, “what was that?”.

You blinked a few times and clutched the book even tighter, “I’m Y/N”. Namjoon nodded, “I know I see you in here often, I’ve rang you through a few times too”. Your brows furrowed, surely you would’ve remembered him, though you don’t recall ever looking at the librarians or clerks often enough to remember faces. “O-Oh” you squeaked, “Namjoon?”.

His eyes seemed to just burn into you as he kept staring, “Yes Y/N?”. You looked away from his gaze with a flushed face, “Mind letting me down?”. Looking back at him you noticed his expression had dropped and his cheeks burned bright red, he hurriedly set you down, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to just hold you like that I mean I just..I’m sorry” he fumbled on his own words as he no longer made eye contact, running his hand through his hair nervously.

You giggled at how quickly he became a fumbling mess, it was adorable. “It’s fine it’s fine, anyways thank you for catching me, you’re pretty strong”. Taking the chance to look over his physique you noticed he was much taller than you and well built. “Ah no problem, I’m not that strong” he mumbled.

You glanced at his face again this time noticing something you hadn’t before, horns.

Decent sized horns sprouting from his head that curved backwards only to curve up and around, they were black as night with flecks of purple embedded in them. He noticed you staring and covered his head with his hands, moving them away you saw they were gone.

“Where did they go?” you asked, making eye contact with him again. He looked away and back at you, “I just, I don’t want to scare you is all. People think my horns are creepy” he said in a weak voice.

Him scary? Creepy? Okay maybe you could understand if someone saw him just holding you and staring at you it would make sense to get creep vibes but from such pretty horns?

“I thought they were pretty” you said with a straight face, Namjoon’s expression seemed one of confusion. Like he was trying to tell if you were joking or not.

“Really?”

You nodded, “Really”.

He smiled and looked down, shuffling his feet a bit. “No one has ever called them pretty, maybe my grandma and mom but...no one else”.

He looked up at you and felt a warmth in his chest grow, taking in your beauty as you just stared at him with one of his favorite books clutched to your chest. You looked ethereal, the first time he had seen you in he felt his reality shift. You had messy hair and a onesie on as you scurried about like a chicken with it’s head cut off gathering books. Ever since then he could always tell when you were near, though he also realized you were human. Not odd since the university accepted people of all kinds but the pull he had to be near you, to be with you was odd.

He watched as the corners of your mouth turned up into a smile, “Well I like them, there’s no need to hide them from me”. His heart skipped a beat, “Do you want to get a coffee?” he blurted out on impulse.

You blinked a few times, not expecting that but nodded furiously, “I would love to” you answered back quickly.

There was a silence, Namjoon coughed, “How about now?”.

You nodded again, “I’m not busy just let me check this book out first”.

Namjoon smiled, “Alright cool, I’m done with my shift here as of- glancing to his watch- two minutes ago”.

“I’ll walk with you to check it out if you don’t mind?” he asked as you started to walk to the center of the library, “I don’t mind”.

-----

The cafe was small and cozy, you had ordered a weird combination of things to be placed in a latte, he had ordered a hot chocolate with hazelnut and pumpkin spice. He had also paid for you both much to your refusal to let him pay, he just laughed and handed the clerk his card.

Now here you were, with the mysterious librarian who had caught you when you fell and you were both silent.

Sipping on your drink you glanced out the window nervously.

“So..Y/N..what’s your major?” he asked as he sipped his own drink.

“I’m going to become a teacher...not sure what kind but I’m thinking literature professor” a small smile graced your lips as you thought about your possible future being a professor.

“Really? I could see you being a professor, it suits you” he said with a big grin, his dimples blossoming on his cheeks.

“Is that so? What about you? What’s your major?”.

“I want to be a philosophy professor” the grin never left his face, you felt your heart beat a little faster. He just seemed to keep getting more and more perfect, “That suits you too well”.

Chuckling he nodded, “I get that alot, so tell me more about yourself if you don’t mind”.

“Well, I’ll be upfront and honest. I like you Namjoon, if you want to still get to know me after I’ve just said this then I’ll tell you anything you want to know”. You braced yourself for rejection, after realizing you obviously felt attracted to him you had gone through a number of scenarios all which seemed to led badly. So to shorten the pain you chose to just put it out there and get it over with.

Namjoon felt his face burn up, he hadn’t expected you to be so forward let alone feel the same way he did. He took a drink gulp of his drink which went down the wrong tube, making him cough furiously.

You quickly jumped up and out of your seat rushing to him patting his back, you weren’t sure what to do in this situation. You watched as he coughed, one cough was much harder and louder when you saw flames.

The short spurts of flames kept appearing the more he coughed, a waiter noticed and brought him some water, taking over rubbing his back for him. “Drink the water it’ll help” he said to the panicked man.

Namjoon quickly downed the cup and took a deep breathe, small coughs here and there but no flames. The waiter left once he seemed fine and you went to grab your things and leave, the embarrassment eating you alive.

Just as you were passing Namjoon to get to the door he grabbed your arm, “Wait Y/N!” he said in a raspy voice, letting go of your arm. “Did you mean that?”.

You contemplated on what you should do, run or explain. Run.

Or explain.

Giving him a nod you felt your body being turned around, though you didn’t have time to process what was happening before a warm sensation was on your mouth.

Your mind felt fuzzy and clouded as you tried to think of what was happening, Namjoon’s arms wrapped around you as he moved his lips against yours.

A kiss.

He was kissing you.

You felt your form relax in his arms, closing your eyes and kissing back. The return made him smile into the kiss, pulling away to look at you. You had opened your eyes when he pulled away, though he noticed your eyes were glazed over, you looked dazed.

“I’m sorry, I just. I didn’t think you’d feel the same way about me” he said, his arms dropping from you.

“It’s fine, so you like me?”.

“I do”.

“Still want to know more about me?”

Namjoon nodded, “Always”.

“Alright”.

-----

It had been two months since you first ran into Namjoon, more like fell into but regardless.

You had spent hours talking about things you both do and things you both wanted or needed to know, you had learned many things about him. One of which was that he’s a dragon, more along the lines of a dragon hybrid since his dad was human and mom was a dragon.

Though you also wanted to ask about sexual fantasies you were too nervous to ask and it seemed too soon, he had stopped hiding his horns at first only when with you but recently he no longer hid them at all.

Smiling to yourself you started wondering what he would be like in bed, biting your lip you let your thoughts further, thinking about if his dick was larger than usual since he’s part dragon. Licking your lips you giggled, what if he was submissive? There’s no way he’d be a sub right? A switch maybe, you felt your clit throb slightly at the thought of him entering you, his horns sparkling in the dim light as he smirked pounding into you roughly.

Maybe he’d be into dirty talk?

A hand waved over your face startling you.

“Babe you’re drooling what were you doing?” Namjoon asked as he sad down next to you wrapping his arm around you. You looked up at him with lust filled eyes as you giggled a little, “Nothing, I missed you” leaning in you gave him a peck on the lips. He kissed you back and smiled, “I missed you too Y/N”.

“So how’s your day been Joonie?” you asked leaning your head on him.

“It’s been alright, better now that I’ve got you with me. Though I’ve got some news”.

You hated when someone said they had news, it was usually bad, anxiety prickled at your senses. “Oh?”.

Looking up at him you searched his face for any signs of it being bad news, though what you saw was a flushed face and him smiling at you.

“I uh..I don’t know how to say this without being weird” he laughed, you sat up and gave him the glare he hated, “Fine fine, so I’m going into heat...in a few days..I didn’t think I would since it usually isn’t for a few more months but my doctor said it could be because I’ve found a mate..”.

You looked at him curiously, “Wait dragons go into heat? That seems like something only dogs, cats, etc go into?”. He shook his head, “We have cycles too, it happens once in awhile usually around spring or certain moon phases. Mine just came earlier since my body is changing according to me finding you I guess”.

“So I’m your mate?”

He nodded

“Wait so is it like when wolves imprint or anything? Is it forever or just temporary?”.

“It’s exactly like those cliche stories you read, one mate for life, I mean technically if you were to leave me I could possibly love another and live a life with them but I’d never have the same pull or connection. Essentially you’re my ideal pairing”.

“I see, so when is your heat going to start again? Do you turn into a dragon? What happens?”

He raised a brow at you, “You don’t need to know because you won’t be around me during my heat, it’s dangerous for a human and I don’t want to hurt you”.

You bit your lip, “Hurt me? How?”.

Namjoon noticed you bite your lip, his gaze lingered on the action. Taking a deep breath he exhaled slowly, the scent of your arousal just now hitting him. He hadn’t noticed before but now it was evident.

“You really want to know?” he asked back in a much deeper voice, you felt a tingle travel up your spine, “Yeah”.

He smirked, “Because baby, when I go into heat I’ll be consumed by raw hormones. All I’ll be thinking about is fucking you til you can’t walk and filling you with my cum, marking you so everyone knows who you belong to. Though I can’t control my strength well as is, I don’t want to lose control even more so with you.” he bit his lip as he took in your fucked out expression, you were biting your lip hard. Leaning in he kissed you roughly before pulling away, “Besides baby girl, I don’t know that you could take my cock”.  

You let out a whine at his words, feeling your panties dampen, your insides felt like they were on fire. “Jooniee…” you whined as you clung to his shirt. “What about before your heat hits?”.

Namjoon gripped you tightly, pulling away slightly realizing where you both were. Sitting in the library talking about fucking was not going to look good should one of his supervisors come around, not to mention the hybrids who have excellent hearing could most likely hear everything. The scent around you both smelt like pure lust, you smelt like you needed him. Needed his cock.

“I don’t want to hurt you” he groaned as your hand found his thigh, moving slowly up, “Joonie you won’t hurt me” you said leaning in to kiss his neck.

He felt himself harden even more, his cock throbbed with need to be inside you, “Fuck, my place or yours?”.

You smiled into his neck, licking and biting, “Yours”.

---

Namjoon slammed his door shut and locked it as he picked you up and pushed you against the nearest wall, kissing you roughly while biting at you lips. Moaning into his mouth you felt him rub his hard member against your soaked core, the two months you had been dating neither of you had done anything besides slight dry humping and kissing, he grabbed your boobs here and there but always pulled back.

“Fuck you’re so wet” he growled out as he sucked on your neck, marking you as his. Whining in response you pulled his hair slightly, “Fuck me Joon”.

He started grinding against your pussy even harder, moaning at your demand. “Babe you know I can’t”.

“Please Namjoon please” you begged as you felt your eyes water, you felt like you’d explode.

He carried you into his room, setting you down on the bed, kissing all over your body. “I can’t”.

Furrowing your brows in annoyance you whimpered, “I need you baby, I need your cock inside me..please”. You watched as his expression was mixed with pain and lust, laying back on your elbows legs spread you took your skirt off exposing your soaked panties to him. Crawling over you he towered above you, staring at you intently.

“I’ll eat you out, I’ll finger you, but I don’t want to hurt you with my cock”.

You trailed your hand down his chest and started unbuttoning his shirt, “I’ll take whatever you give me joonie”.

He exhaled, finally feeling freed from you asking him to fuck you. You made quick work of his shirt and threw your own off along with your bra, glancing down at the very large bulge in his pants you slid down a bit and cupped him, he let out a moan and ground into your hand.

“So big” you moaned, unbuckling his belt and going to unzip his pants but before you could he stopped you. “I just want to see it joon, can’t I?”.

He chuckled, “Fine, maybe then you’ll understand”. He took his pants off quickly, tossing his underwear off. Hearing you gasp was expected, “Now do you see why we can’t have sex?”.

He looked at you but you were practically drooling as you stared at his member hanging there, he took the moment to stare at your breasts. Perfect just like everything else about you, his gaze trailed to your swollen lips and teary eyes. You glanced up at him and got off the bed, he looked at you worried that you were leaving. Though his expression darkened quickly when he realized you were kneeling at the edge of the bed, “Sit on the edge Joon”.

He chuckled and did just that, “Don’t hurt yourself”.

You smirked as you grasped his cock with one hand and gave it a few pumps, he was huge, though you were pretty sure you could fit it. The vagina is made to stretch for a child, so it should technically be able to work. Not only was he thick but he was long too, pre cum leaking from the tip. You gave him a gentle lick up from his base to the tip, lapping up the pre cum.

Namjoon moaned as his fists gripped the bed sheets, “fuck Y/N that feels so good”. You continued licking him paying attention to the underside of the head, testing the waters a bit you took the head into your mouth and started taking more of him. Your mouth was stuffed and you hadn’t even gotten half of him in, pulling off of him you repeated it.

His moans and growls only fueled you more, bobbing up and down on what you could take your tongue swiped furiously on the underside as you did. “Fuck baby girl your sucking my cock so well” he moaned out, staring down at your small frame and small mouth stuffed with his cock.

He brushed the hair out of your face and wiped a tear that fell from your eyes as you tried taking him further, “Hey babe don’t force yourself”.

Pulling off of him you straddled him taking him by surprise, “I love you Joon”. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer kissing you gently, “I love you too Y/N, now let me eat that pussy”. Giggling you laid down on the bed and pulled your panties off tossing them at his face, he laughed as he laid down between your thighs.” You smell so fucking good, I’m sure all the hybrids could smell you on campus”.

Blushing you felt your pussy twitch in anticipation, “So needy” he said, his mouth finally coming down on your cunt. He licked and sucked teasingly before moving to spread your legs farther apart, once satisfied with your spread he hooked his arm under your thighs and lifted your legs over his shoulders as he licked at your clit.

Moaning out loudly you jerked your hips upwards, the vibrating sensation of him chuckling into your core made you moan even more, “Fuck Joon”.

He continued to attack your clit, swirling his tongue around it, suddenly he brought a finger to your soaked opening, pushing in slowly, you cried out in pleasure as he started thrusting his finger in and out of you roughly while sucking on your clit.

You felt your abdomen knot up, you felt like you were on fire as he added another finger, curling them upwards before lightly biting your clit. “Ahhh fuck fuck nnnnnnggh Joon” you moaned out. Your thighs began to shake signaling your release as he deepened his thrusts even more, moving your hips to meet his thrusts you felt the knot release from within you as your thighs cramped up and twitched. Namjoon kept fingering you as he gave your clit another lick, “too much too much fuck I’m so sensitive”.

He chuckled as he withdrew his fingers now covered in a creamy substance, “So, you cream instead of squirt?”. Bringing his finger to his mouth he sucked your release off, you moaned up at him panting, “Can we try?”.

He licked his lips, leaning over you, “We can try”.

You kissed him roughly as he lined his massive member with your still twitching core, “Tell me if it hurts” he said before going to suck on your collar bone and biting your chest, you felt the tip push in. The stretch wasn’t pleasant but it wasn’t bad.

Moaning you felt him push more inside, causing you to wince at the stretch, “ahhh” you whined out. He stopped pushing and stilled inside you, only three inches or so being inside, “You take me so well baby I’m so proud of my baby girl”.

Moving your hips back at him you felt him tense up, letting out a groan. “You’re so fucking tight, don’t move like that or I’ll cum right away”. Moaning you continued to move your hips on your own, fucking yourself on what was inside of you, your walls tingled with pleasure as the fire ignited again inside you.

He started shallowly thrusting only pushing in what you had taken earlier, “Your pussy feels so fucking good” he moaned out, hands gripping your hips now.

The pain was gone, replaced with pure pleasure, you moved your legs so that one was over his shoulder, causing him to slip deeper inside. You let out a loud whiney moan as he did so, he pulled out worried he hurt you, “Are you okay?”, you whined in response. “Put it back inside, it feels so good”.

Namjoon lined himself back up and pushed in deeper this time, your walls twitched and clenched around his member making him growl. Bringing his thumb down he started rubbing your clit, “Ah fuck fuck me Joon fuck me” you cried out. He started thrusting in slowly before picking up the speed, you felt so full, everytime he pulled out slightly it felt like he was taking something with him.

Luckily some of your release served as lubricant so he slid fairly easy in and out, thrusting into you he placed his hands on either side of your head, sweat dripped down his face as he neared his own high.

You started meeting his thrusts, making him grunt, Namjoon started pounding into you. Your squeaks and moans making his cock twitch, he looked down at you thoroughly fucked out with your eyes rolling back into your head and drool dripping down your chin. His entire girth and length still wasn’t fully inside but he resisted shoving it all inside you.

You felt your legs twitch again, walls clenching down tightly on his member making it hard for him to move, he buried his face into your neck as he bit down before continuing thrusting inside your hot wet cunt.

“I-I’m going to c-cum” you moaned out, he brought his thumb back to your clit rubbing circles into it roughly to give you the release you wanted.

“I’m going to cum too” he grunted as his hips started shaking, giving you quick deep thrusts, “Cum inside me” you moaned out, walls convulsing around him.

You felt the knot unravel again as you met his thrusts making more of him hit inside you, you felt yourself explode on his cock, the over stimulation from him still rubbing your clit making your walls twitch around him as he chased his own high. He thrusted in rougher and slower before pushing slightly deeper and finally releasing inside you, his cum overflowing out of you. His hips jerked inside you a few more times before he started to soften inside you.

Panting you both tried catching your breaths.

“F-fuck, I told you I could take it” you laughed in a raspy voice, wincing as he pulled out of you slowly. Namjoon watched as your gaping hole twitched around nothing while his cum flooded out of you. “You did great baby, did it hurt?”.

“A little at first but after that it felt amazing, you’re so big Joon”.

He chuckled as he got up to grab a damp towel, bringing it back and cleaning you off gently. You hissed at the over sensitivity as he wiped over your clit with the towel, “Can I help with your heat?”.

After he cleaned you up he threw the towel into a basket and laid one out beneath you to soak the spilled cum up from the bed, “Nope”.

Pouting you glared at him, “Why not?”. He chuckled, “You’re so sexy babe, maybe next time but I don’t want to lose control”.  

“We just need to have sex more, if I can take all of you it should be okay right?”.

He hummed in response, “You’re addicted to my cock now aren’t you?”. Blushing you curled into his chest, “I love it and you, I just like feeling you inside me”.

You felt him laugh as he wrapped his arms around you, “We’ll see how you feel in a little bit once you’ve calmed down a little”.

Yawning you nodded, “Alright Joonie”, sleep quickly taking over you.

Namjoon kissed your head as he let himself fall asleep as well holding you tightly against his chest.

#smut #bts smut #namjoon smut #hybrid smut #bts hybrid au #bts college au #namjoon hybrid #hybrid namjoon #dragon!namjoon #bts dragon smut #rapmon smut #rapmonster smut

[ki6-7-l8r]

Slacktivism For A New America!

My Lazy-Ass Slacktivism Manifesto.... July 30, 2016

How stupid are Americans really? You have a rigged DNC election and Sanders assaulted and threatened with violence both against himself and his family; and the sell-out

media and political apparatus shoving Hillary down our throats, and for most Americans, that is just OK. Most could not be bothered to put on RT, or find some decent

alternative media on You Tube or Google; which would take just a few seconds, to tell them what is actually going on. Prices are so high in relation to wages that 60% of

the US population does not have even $400 to access in an emergency. This is creating a dearth of spenders for many retailers, who are trying to create incentives to

have people max out their credit. Even this has been tapped out and many retailers are closing their doors. Private wealth, (Rich People) has outpaced economic growth to

the point that there is not enough currency in circulation to sustain the economy for much longer, because most people have no money. Some crash in immanent. There is

huge consumer debt to banks and no money to pay the banks, other than wealthy deposit holders, and this is not enough. Money only has value if anchored to an economy and

circulated as a proxy for goods and services. If everyone is poor, and there is not enough money in circulation, it becomes worthless paper and will cause a collapse.

30% of the population has dropped out of the work force, as there is little point in working if you are not paid enough to live anyway. As a response to this and to try

to end Capitalism, I propose a philosophy called "Revolution Of Slack," which I will describe:

1.Form co-ops and trade networks that barter products and services, and that keep the use of money to an absolute minimum. The less money in circulation, the less value

it has, and if nobody used money it would have no value at all. Money only has value if it is being used, and linked to goods and services; end that and money is

worthless, because it is "Fiat" money and not backed up by gold or silver or anything of real value.

2."Slacktivism:" Use computers to form on-line "anarcho-collectivist" trading networks; to meet members needs via crowd-sourced projects using "Bit coin" and other viable

virtual currencies as they come along. Do whatever you can.... If you are not using an anonymous virtual currency, or state-of-the-art IRS detection systems catch up,

make sure you pay your taxes, so you do not give them a reason to come after you for this. Using these methods you can create crowd sourced projects too, that are Art

related, Anarchist philosophies, or various kinds of media that oppose, or have nothing to with sustaining the current Capitalist system.....

3. "Slack:" By all means slack-off on the job to whatever level you can get away with, or drop out of the economy and not work at all, if you have some or *anyway* to

stay alive. I am not going to advocate that you break laws, but I really don't care if you do or not.

4. Find some more meaningful reason to live, than just living to chase dollars, even if that reason involves doing absolutely nothing...

That is all. (P.S. I have expanded the notion of Slacktivism to mean more than just clicking buttons online)

The End Of Work..... July 9, 2016

Capitalism is reaching the end of its innate workability..... The best thing that could happen would be to torpedo it for good! Here is how:

1. Barter: Money only has value as a medium of exchange. This integrates it with the productive technics of society, and creates the basis to create wealth; by keeping

prices high in relation to wages, and circulating money in excess of the GNP to create inflationary debt. The banks can thus collect interest, and can foreclose....

Using trade and barter, and forgoing money, will return goods and services traded to *actual* wealth, and turn money back into what it is, worthless paper. In this way

even on a small scale, it can ameliorate the alienation that exists between people and what they produce, which should be a creative choice.....

2. Communes: Create intentional communities that share almost everything, and drop out of society. Like #1, the severing of oneself from the political economy will

be gradual and not prefect at first. Over time though it could begin to have an effect. Limited production to immediate small localities and distribution to ones own

geographical area whenever possible; would cut back on transportation costs and mitigate pollution and strain on the environment to a considerable degree. Hydro-electric

power and clean water could be obtained by desalinization plants with turbines that will generate energy and purify ocean water to drink. This could power computer

networks and perhaps create energy for light rail transportation of people and goods.

3. Drop out of society: Right now the labor non-participation rate in the USA is 30%. We need more people to drop out of society, go on welfare/SSI disability; and make

use of the very limited and almost non-existent social programs that exist in the USA, as well as Europe. One should try to be as non-productive as possible. Get a labor

non-participation rate of 70%, that will be it for this economic system. The government to save itself, will create a state capitalist system and become the only

employer, when all production is nationalized.... This would be the first step to eventual anarcho-collectivist small scale social networks that could eventually evolve.

Capitalism cannot work without people giving it their consent with their labor and capacities. A giant work-strike across all sectors could put an end to that.

Capitalism Is A Scam Here Is Why…..

The basis of Capitalism is not too hard to understand. In the first place, you have to understand that money is not an even unit of exchange. It is a artifact to redistribute wealth.  Money in reality is just worthless paper, and the goods and services produced by society are what has real value. But a “bait and switch” occurs. Money is made into the sole “gatekeeper” for goods and services. You cannot get goods and services without money. When this happens goods and services in themselves become worthless; and money which constitutes the only means to them becomes actual wealth. Money has co-opted the value of goods and services, and has made the worthless paper that it actually is into a deviant instrument of constituted wealth. This is true.

Then the next thing you have to figure out, is the “purchasing power” of currency. In the political economy, how much of the “purchasing power” of currency is needed to pay for labor and raw materials, and how much of the purchasing power of currency makes up what Marx called: “Surplus Value.” Lets say the “Sustenance Level” of the currency is around 25%, and the “Surplus Value.” is around 75%. This means that you can charge a profit of 75% on all goods and services, and still stay in a sustainable range and not endanger the economic life of society, which is being taken care of by the afore mentioned 25%. Thus the holders of profit can allocate in this way 75% of the wealth of society, and use that wealth to buy back and own everything. Generally this is called “Wage Profit Co-efficients,” or “Disparity” but it is really more complicated.

Next you have the banks. The way they make money, is to distribute more money to society and corporations then can be matched in a society’s “Gross Domestic Product.” Since goods and services are worthless and money is everything, this means simply that corporations and society are borrowing more money than they can pay back. If the money exceeds “Gross Domestic Product” then this means that the society is borrowing money beyond its collateral or worth, and beyond its productive capacity. This in-debts the whole society and even corporations to the banks.

Once this happens the banks then tighten the flow of currency after the inflationary stage, to a deflationary cycle to make currency harder to obtain, thus increasing its value through relative scarcity. This causes the wealth that society has to  be sucked up by the banks through foreclosure and interest. And at this point interest rates can be raised to increase profit. Thus alternating cycles of inflation and recession insure that the banks keep making money.

The next question is how do corporations and banks split the 75% surplus value.

The banks get 60% through society and corporations paying back their so-called “debts” and corporations get to keep 40% of their wage/profit co-efficient or leeching of surplus value from the political economy described before, factoring in sustaining and surplus forms of purchasing power, as well as use value and surplus value in terms of socially sustainable profit. Then the workers and consumers foot the bill forever.

Thus Capitalism is a scam

https://www.ic.org/

https://www.sott.net/article/321812-Everything-you-ve-been-told-about-debt-is-wrong

https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/bob-black-the-abolition-of-work

#slacktivism #anarchy #communes #anti capitalism #bob black #dropping out

[cetaceans-pls]

Kinktober 2017: (12) Tentacles

Aberdeen

A lesser evil, but more heavy-handed. Just another day at work for combat-priests Lavi and Yuu.

Do or Die AU, dgm, fem laviyuu (might help to read this first)

-

 Yuu calls her a fool pretty much every other hour; it’s almost clockwork, and Lavi doesn’t take it to heart, not really. She used to think that High Priests got their power from their purity and their adherence to religious rituals, but as far as incredibly powerful deities go, Alma-Karma has a sense of humour, and if Yuu’s ability to single-handedly slice monstrosities as tall as mountains in half is any indication, more so than a pious nature, Our Lady prefers strength of character.

Lavi knows she’s going to make many, many mistakes. There isn’t much training available when you go from acolyte to High Priest in one bloody night near the end of the world, and Yuu isn’t the type to be a kindly teacher to begin with.

Add to that the loss of the former High Priest Yeager, all the monster-slaying’s down to just Yuu now, and Lavi hardly ever sees her at temple, and never sees her not covered in gunk and blood (almost always someone else’s).

So Lavi practices what she can with her halberd, gets better at spells, tries to cut back on naps and put in more effort into exercise (though she doesn’t think she’ll ever quite manage Yuu’s aerial acrobatic feats, uhm). She doesn’t like not pulling her weight, and more pragmatically, she knows that if she can’t lighten Yuu’s burden soon, the likelihood of something going very wrong in a fight for Yuu gets higher and higher, and if Yuu is taken out, oh, my.

The world may literally end.

When word comes in by screaming townsman while Yuu is out to terrorise a rock giant terrorising a neighbouring city that there is a monster! A monster! That crept out the marshland near the mouth of the river and grabbed a water buffalo for lunch, Lavi decides that this is something she can manage. 

She helped take out a Great Evil! A creature in the lagoon can’t possibly be harder than that.

(Lavi had purposely ignored the fact that Yuu had done most of the work in that case; sometimes confidence is the key to learning a new skill!)

-

(This is not one of those times).

It should have been obvious, that a creature large enough to consume a whole water buffalo will be a massive hulking thing, so the ugly mass being taller than two men and wider than ten isn’t the surprise. The surprise are the hundreds of long, undulating tentacles that spread from a gelatinous central blob made up of mostly teeth and eyes. The monster is an almost-pretty sea-green colour, and its blood seems to rush endlessly through its tentacles likes tides stuck in a tube.

Between the colour and how the branches break into smaller branches, Lavi hysterically thinks that if you squint and step back a few feet, it would look like the breaking of the river into the delta.

She’s terrified and alone; the man who’d called for help had pointed It out to her and then ran away, and Lavi is deeply, deeply envious. 

“Let’s do this, darlin’,”, Lavi whispers to her halberd, and starts spinning it in her hands. It’s not magic or a summoning; it’s a nervous twitch, and the sound of the wicked-sharp axe head cutting through the air is almost comforting. Besides, the halberd has a mind of its own; keeping it in motion gives it momentum, when it kicks off.

“Okay, right, yeah. Looks like ‘s a water-based monster,” Lavi mutters to herself, mind going through the thousands and thousands of pages of records and writings that she’s read and remembered. “Closer t’green than blue, so sea-based, not freshwater.” She tries to count the number of tentacles, but gives up past 29. “Lots ‘f limbs, but no iron edges. Lesser monster, then, yeah.” 

Lesser monsters usually don’t need much strength for a banishment, especially when they’re holding the weapons of office of a high priest, so Lavi tentatively steps closer, trying to get in range before she can draw the runes to repel the thing. Either a Call-The-Sun rune to dry the thing up and leave behind a pillar of salt, or something earth-based to push it back. Decisions, decisions.

She decides for a Call-The-Sun, because she’s better with fire spells anyways, and steps forward with renewed confidence.

With, ah, too much confidence.

The finest tentacles, splitting into littler and littler branches, is barely the size of a finger. Lavi doesn’t notice it until a few of them had wrapped around her leg, and the sudden, rough tug has her stumbling, digging the finial into the ground to keep her balance.

This isn’t good, Lavi thinks to herself. Now that she knows what to look for, it seems like there’s an endless stream of tentacles rushing towards her, and even though a swift swing of her axe cuts through them with no trouble, there are so many, and Lavi knows that if they get her hands, she is going to get real incapacitated real fast. 

“C’mon c’mon c’mon,” Lavi mutters under her breath, drawing a quick circle around her and calling for fire. The magic catches, because the halberd’s like a lightning stick that can call lightning at will, but the ground is soft and boggy, heavy with water. The flames flickers as they try their best, but they barely go past her her knees.

The tentacles continue their onward progression, and Lavi’s mounting desperation must be bleeding through because the flames sputter and rise to fend them off. 

Think, think! What could this monster be, what could be a way to defeat, how can she handle this. The world needs Yuu to survive, and Lavi needs to learn to not be just another heavy hand tugging on the one true High Priest’s coat.

Sea monster, non-metal, a lesser. What creatures roam the shallows in this area? What could drive one out to land? Which have a taste for warm blood? Tentacles, peat, the delta, autumn, a little warmer and wetter than usual, think! What do these things tell you?

It comes in a flash, a book falling open to the right page in her head. This monster, it’s one of the Ab’din. They’re usually found off the coasts of the Great Dunes much further up to the north, where they prey on the herds of Bariani that live half on land and half on water. But if there’s an early cold snap, they have been known to occasionally travel further down south in search for warmer waters.

That’s it, that should be right, Lavi can’t think of a thing that she may have gotten wrong here. Ab’din have a heart of many many chambers, nestled under the central mass and protected from drying out. She doesn’t need to summon a pillar of fire; her wicked axe and being within striking range will be enough.

(Has to be enough, because Lady knows, there’s no going back from this).

Responding to her will, the circle of fire flickers out, and the tentacles strike. The priest vestments are be-spelled, so they should give her some protection, but Lavi doesn’t stop swinging her axe to keep the tentacles pulling at her legs rather than wrapping around her arms.

It’s nerve-wracking, as she’s drawn close and closer and closer to the gaping maw of this Ab’din, the tentacles slicking up her legs, soaking through the heavy fabric of her robes and trousers. 

Hours and hours of practice every day with the halberd has given Lavi an intimate knowledge of the reach of her weapon; it’s a delicate balancing act trying to pick the moment to attack. The tentacles crawling up to touch against bare skin are slimy and sticky and absolutely disgusting, but too soon she’ll miss the heart, too late and she’ll be eaten.

Do or die; it’s ridiculous that this stern of a philosophy is just part of her daily work now, Lavi finds herself thinking hysterically, before swinging down her halberd with all the force of her conviction.

It’s a clean hit, and the Ab’din’s scream of pain and the tentacles suddenly clamping down around her chest pushes Lavi to seeing stars as her breath is forced out of her, and her last thought before both she and the Ab’din hit the ground is,

Drowning in a puddle would be a terrible way to go, yeah.

-

She wakes up to the ground rocking underneath her, and for one horrifying moment she wonders if this is what it feels like to get digested. 

She isn’t. Instead, she opens her eye to see that she’s currently dripping mud and muck all over the pristine white tunic of High Priest Yuu, who’s carrying her piggyback on the road back to temple.

“Yuu?” Lavi croaks out, not super convinced this isn’t some fever dream conjured by Ab’din gastric juices.

“What.”

No, not a dream. No one else makes statements out of questions quite like our lovely high priest lady. Lavi heaves a sigh of relief, because there could be a pack of Ab’din at their backs, but if Yuu’s here, it means beyond a shadow of a doubt that things are okay. “Nothin’,” she hums. “Just missed you on this job, yeah.”

Yuu snorts, rolling her shoulders a bit. Lavi is heavy, but not enough to be a problem. She just has a couple of cracked ribs from when the rock giant got a couple of lucky hits, but not Lavi and not any of the other temple people needed to know that. “I got back early and everyone was yelling at me that you had ran off on your own. I came to save you and then just stayed to watch.”

More so than Our Lady, Lavi finds it reassuring that Yuu was watching over there, though she can’t help but feel that “Things would’ve gone faster if you’d just stepped in, y’know.”

“Obviously. And what would you have learned from getting saved again?”

Admittedly, not much. “’m not going to forgive you being a negligent tutor just because you’ve got a good point, yeah.” Lavi flops a had about, to check for her halberd. It’s in Yuu’s very secure hands, with Lavi almost sitting on it. It feels a little rude to sit on a holy weapon, but better being sandwiched between two High Priests than being stuck in a bog somewhere, she supposes.

In the distance, the temple starts coming into focus, and Yuu quickens her pace. “The only forgiveness I’ve ever needed is Hers,” she says casually, even if it’s the most cryptic thing Lavi’s ever heard in her entire life. “You didn’t get yourself killed like I thought you would,” Yuu tacks on, somewhat begrudgingly. 

Ay, a win’s a win, against a monster or a woman of unbearable frigid grace. Lavi leans a little closer, to press her cheek to Yuu’s. “You won’t be gettin’ rid of me so easily, Y’Grace,” she croons.

Yuu doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t really have to. Even snappish and harsh as she can be, Lavi can’t help but notice that when her back’s to the wall, the High Priest is right there behind her.

It’s a comforting thought.

-

a/n: i am not good at writing Action, but wao magic fighting gay lady priests is a hell of a concept to go off of

#kinktober 2017 #laviyuu #D.Gray-Man #dgm #do or die AU #lavi #kanda yuu #ladies! ladies #this kind of fantasy is just really fun to come up w #even if it's kinda a nightmare when you've got a bunch of prompts #and too many ideas

[peterpparkrr]

Changing the Tide: An Avengers Fanfic (5/7)

Summary: Wanda Maximoff is the new girl in town and also reconciling with the death of her twin brother, Pietro. As she starts to navigate her new life she manages to stumble into friendship with a group of teens who are surprisingly similar to her

A/N: This is basically just a highschoolAU for the Avengers without powers.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

The next day Wanda got to school earlier. She made sure to keep her head down as she walked the hallways before first hour. If she was going to make sure that Clint and the others left her alone she was going to make it as hard as possible for them to try and talk to her.

She made sure to walk into History seconds before the final bell rang. Wanda handed Thor back his notebook. She had started with the notes last night and copied down all ten pages of his notes in a few hours.

“Thanks,” She said, trying to be kind yet distant, before Thor could try to say anything Mr. Coulson was starting class and Wanda felt like she had jumped the first hurdle of the day.

After class Wanda got up and was out the door before Thor could register that she was gone.

Biology was much harder. Wanda had taken her time walking to the room but when she got there Steve was sitting at their table, waiting for her. She smiled awkwardly, unsure of what to do, the only other open spot in the room was next to Tony, which didn’t exactly seem like a more preferable option. When she sat down Steve tried to catch her eye.

“I just wanted you to know that I don’t see being kind to you as some sort of job I got put up to.”

“Okay,” Wanda replied, her tone neutral. Wanda wasn’t sure if she could trust Steve, she barely knew him after all, she barely knew any of these people. Wanda had never trusted anyone other than Pietro and she still wasn’t ready to admit that she was alone now.

Steve left her alone for the rest of the hour. Her conversation with Natasha during french was very similar, though Natasha admitted that Clint was stupid a lot of the time, but added that Wanda would be stupid to ignore that he was trying to do the right thing.

Philosophy was more of the same, Steve lefter alone (so did everyone else) but it was after philosophy that Wanda realized that she was going to have a problem. She didn’t have anyone to sit with at lunch. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, Wanda had always sat with Pietro or by herself (at her old school she had essentially been invisible) but when she walked through the hallway to the lunchroom and noticed people were watching her it was then that Wanda had somehow gotten mixed up with the most popular kids in school.

Normally Wanda avoided popular kids like the plague, unfortunately, Wanda hadn’t realized that they were popular, at her old school the popular kids had been the rich kids who could have parties and nice clothes or the varsity players. These guys weren’t who he would have assumed to be the popular kids, sure, Tony was rich and his dad was famous, and Thor and Steve were super athletic, but he could barely see them being friends with each other, let alone people like Bruce or Natasha.

However, before Wanda could worry more about who she was going to eat with Steve was next to her, “Are you going to eat with us?” He asked.

“Um...yeah,” Wanda replied. She could tell that Steve was surprised by her response but he tried to not look to pleased.

When they got to their table everyone tried to be nice to Wanda without making it too obvious. Wanda almost felt worse because of the fact that they were treating her like a rabbit that they didn’t want to scare away than she had yesterday when she felt like they were all pretending to be nice to her.

Maybe Wanda had over-reacted? Should she just let go of her assumptions and let them in?

No.

At least, not yet.

Wanda stayed silent for most of lunch, after everyone relaxed slightly the conversations started up like normal and Wanda listened quietly while she picked at the sad excuse for a sandwich she had made herself before leaving the house. She didn’t even like turkey, so why had she slapped three pieces of it on the bread she had found in the pantry? Wanda was so wrapped up thinking about her poor sandwich making skills that she didn’t notice when Clint sat down next to her.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said, breaking Wanda out of her train of thought, she looked up, no one else was listening to them, they all had their own conversations going.

“Okay,” Wanda replied. She hadn’t really forgiven Clint for what he had said, but Wanda wasn’t exactly one to hold grudges - at least not outwardly. The internal battle Wanda was having was fierce. She had always been a fighter, but right now she just wanted to give up.

Wanda couldn’t help but think back to being at the hospital after Pietro’s accident. When Clint found her she was hiding in the storage closet bawling her eyes out.

“Um… can I help you?” a boy about her age asked. Wanda looked up, startled by the intruder before she realized that she was the one who wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Sorry, I just- How could I have let this happen? It’s all my fault.” Wanda sobbed.

“What?” He asked, crouching down next to her.

“M-my brother was in a car accident, he’s in the ICU right now,” Wanda told him, “They don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

“I’m still not seeing how this is your fault,” He said gently.

“I was the one who told him leave.” Wanda cried, “We needed milk, I told him to just go find some, so he did and then he ran a red light a few blocks from our house. He got T-boned and now he’s here.”

"Hey, look at me. It’s your fault, it’s his fault, it’s the other driver’s fault, who cares." he replied, “Sitting here is going to change what happened.”

“They won’t let me or our parents back to see him,” Wanda said, pulling her hands away from her face.

“Oh, well I can probably sneak you into his room,” he replied nonchalantly as he stood up and held out his hand to help her up.

“Really, you would do that for me?” Wanda asked him as she got to her feet.

“Sure, as long as we don’t get caught.” He replied with a wink before grabbing her hand and leading her out of the closet.

The two of them snuck down the hallway and around a few doctors into the ICU.

“What’s his name?” The boy had asked her when they got to a nurses station.

“Pietro Maximoff,” She replied quickly, glancing around nervously.

“Hey, if you keep looking around like you’re not supposed to be here they’ll realize that you’re not and kick you out.” He told her while typing into the computer.

“Right, sorry,” She replied.

“Room 324,” He announced, looking up from the computer, “Right this way.”

Wanda nodded and followed him down the hallway.

“You can’t go in, unfortunately because there’s a bunch of nurses right now, but you can look into the room,” He told her while they walked briskly, “Are you ready for this?” He asked her, glancing sidelong at her.

“Yes,” she answered definitively.

“Well, this is it.” he said, gesturing to the room number next to the door right in front of him, “You’ve probably got five or six minutes until his doctors come back.”

Wanda nodded and walked up to the doorway. She hadn’t know what to expect, but she figured it would be something like on all of those doctor shows on TV, that Dr. McDreamy would be bossing around people and her family would be able to go home by the end of the episode.

That’s not really what it was like.

I mean, there was a nurse who seemed busy enough, but she hadn’t realize that he was actually hooked up to tons of machines, everything about the situation seemed wrong and -painful-. Wanda could barely see Pietro’s face, there were so many wires and tubes connected to it.

After what had felt like mere seconds to Wanda at the time but must have been several minutes in reality she had felt the hand of the boy on his shoulder.

“We need to go now,” He told her, his voice soft.

“No.”

“If we don’t I’m going to lose my job.”

Wanda sighed and turned away from her brother’s body.

At the time Wanda hadn’t know that would be the last time she would see her twin’s body while he was still alive.

“No, like I’m really sorry about what I said yesterday, that was super out of line,” Clint replied, snapping Wanda back into reality.

“You were there for me when no one else was, you have no idea how much that meant to me, I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” Wanda said, dutifully examining the bread of her sandwich so she wouldn’t have to look at him, “It’s just...I haven’t really talked about Pietro since it happened. I can’t.”

“That’s okay, we don’t have to talk about. Just know that whenever you’re ready, I’m here - we’re all here for you.” He said, “Even Tony, especially Tony.”

“Thanks, can we just drop it for now?”

“Of course,” Clint said with a slight smile, taking a bite of his lunch, “How are your classes? Catching up?” He asked through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, I’ve had to do work every chance I get though, these teachers really do not take it easy do they?”

Steve looked over at Wanda when she said that, “That reminds me, we have a Philosophy study group that meets every Thursday after school to hash out ideas and help with the essays and stuff, you should join.”

Wanda nodded, “Oh, awesome, that would be a huge help.”

“And we all tend to get together every afternoon at someone’s house to do homework and hang out,” Clint added, “So you have a standing invitation for that too, we don’t always get a lot of work done though, so just know that if you show up you’re going to get distracted any time you try to do actual work.”

Wanda laughed slightly, “Okay.”

“We always figure it out in the groupchat, Peggy interjected, “can I add you?”

“Um.. sure,” Wanda replied, quickly rattling off her phone number as Peggy typed it into her phone. The moment Peggy was done Wanda heard her phone start pinging and pulled it out of her backpack.

[phone] (12:42) Omg is the new number wanda???

[phone] (12:42) heyyy wanda

[phone] (12:42) Yes. You heard our conversation, please stop texting the group chat for stupid reasons.

[phone] (12:42) sorry peg. Luv youuuuu

[phone] (12:43) we’re all sitting at the same table just talk to each other

“Um...” Wanda muttered.

“Here,” Clint said, putting his hand out, “I’ll but everyone’s contacts in so you know who’s who.”

Wanda nodded and handed her phone over to him. After a few minutes Clint handed her phone back and Wanda scrolled through to see the names of everyone at the table were now added into her phone, along with a few that she didn’t recognize.

“Who are these other people?” Wanda asked, pointing to their names.

“Oh, those are a few of our other friends, they don’t have this lunch though. Peter Parker is Tony’s stalker, Sam Wilson is Steve’s best friend, Hank Pym is another science nerd, I don’t really know why we need another one but I guess he’s cool, T’Challa’s another one of the exchange students, Carol Danvers is a badass who can do whatever she wants, and Bucky Barnes is basically Steve’s boyfriend.”

Wanda was still trying to take in all of this information in order to make sure she’d remember who everyone was, “I thought Steve and Peggy were…” Wanda replied, confused.

“No one really knows which one he’s actually interested in,” Clint replied, offhandedly, “Well, do you think you’ll come over this afternoon? Study group is at my house.”

“Sure, it’s not like I have anything else to do.” Wanda replied with a slight smirk.

#avengers #avengers imagine #avengers fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfic #clint barton #clint barton fanfic #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #tony stark #tony stark fanfic #bruce banner #bruce banner fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic

[cesium-sheep]

so I did end up wearing myself out, but it took at least half a (normal healthy person’s) day’s worth of productivity, so that’s pretty good. (with one nap, but still.) I didn’t finish everything I wanted to get done, but I did:

vacuum

change fish filter

water plants

put away dishes

wash more dishes

fuck around with the smoke detector (we eventually just took it down and stashed it in a closet so we don’t have to hear it, there’s another one 2 feet away so it’s fine)

clean rice cooker

clean microwave

clean toaster oven

sell off books to three stores

get matt a stuffed animal

sort coupons

vote

fix both remaining bracelets that needed redoing

fold laundry

put away laundry

make rice goop (matt helped)

watch the new philosophy tube video (this is where I fully ran out of energy for the day -n- )

so like. that’s a lot. the only things I really wanted to get done that I didn’t are take a bath, write, and actually portion out the rice goop. maybe make a few more rainbow pride bracelets so I don’t have to worry about it for holiday fairs.

I also still need to make that booklet, look for concerts, look for holiday craft fairs, and schedule an appointment or two (optometrist, dentist maybe). but I did an awful lot of catching up today, so outside of regular daily/weekly stuff that’s really all I have left I think.

[easkyrah]

Nessian Cancer AU

Summary: Nesta’s had cancer as long as she can remember, stuck in a hospital bed for years. Cassian, her childhood best friend, has always been right next to her side, giving her the strength to live rather fade away. But when college commences and time ticks by, he no longer visits her, choosing time for studies and flings—choosing others over her. So, Nesta moves on with her own life, learning to live again—without Cassian. One day, when he visits, she’s not there. What will he do now that his Nesta has moved on, and is no longer the girl he knew? They both changed, for better and for worse.

I’ve completely revised this first part, deleting the original one I previously posted. I like this one much, much better. (I offer this update as a means of compensation from any angst caused by the Elorcan Werewolf AU’s recent parts.)

“A fresh poison each week, for we were born sick.”

Cancer

“Are you sure about this?” Elain asked hesitantly, biting her bottom lip. “I mean, at least tell Cassian. Or Feyre. What about father, at the very least?”

Nesta blinked at the abrupt mention of a figure she long considered dead to her. The figure that once served as a fracture of a figment of hope and reliance as a fatherly mention, but had betrayed her and her sisters in every sense of the word family. The figure that had given her custody of her younger sisters as soon as the clock had chimed twelve and she had turned eighteen, a legal adult in her own way.

The day she lost Cassian, her anchor in this sickly world. The day she was forced to carry her mental capacities to new heights, beyond her hardened exterior. The day she snapped up her walls only Elain could understand in the slightest, so that she lived as an empty shell with a pillar of ice guarding every thought and action.

Nesta adamantly shook her head, fingering one of the wires protruding her pale skin. Never once had sunlight fully touched her skin and breathed down those rays, her body usually locked up in this room with monitors whirring and sedations pumping.

“I need to do this. It’s been too long. I was never going to keep living like this.”

It had been a dream of what she had with Cassian, of the shared laughter and smiles. She had been a fool to think he would always be there, having his life revolve around a sickly girl who had a bare nothing to offer him that her own tragic story.

But that was nothing now, nothing more than a saved memory for a girl tied to a machine. Today no longer would she be dependent. Today she would seize independence in its very first form.

Breathing.

Inhaling and exhaling air without a machine to continuously pump extra oxygen into her lest one of her lungs fail. Nesta was tired of that risk. Her body hadn’t failed her in the ten years that she’d lived in fear and seclusion.

She needed to learn how to live again with those who would wholeheartedly lift her up. She needed to learn how to breathe without the tangy smell of the hospital , and the hospital was no longer the place. She needed to exist in a state where she could find herself fulfilled rather than lying in a white bed, typing away in her computer, filling her brain with knowledge she most likely would never put in action.

“Did you inform the doctor of my decision?” she stopped twisting the nearest wire and stared out the window, where an eternity had been hid from her face. There was so much out there in life she hadn’t discovered, and needed to conquer. As a young girl, she’d danced through the rain, and ran through the sunflower fields as the sun beat down over her back, daring her to keep running wild. When she was cancer-free. When she was invincible. When she had been happy and more than a shell over the little girl she once was.

But the disease was an invisible hand and had brought down itself like a stinging slap, holding her in its grip for almost eleven years.

Her tenth birthday should have been fully of merry joy, but instead she had bleed and bleed everywhere, her brain hurting and legs collapsing under her. For ten years, she stayed in this hospital, never fully healing, and wasting away in atrophy. She had let her disease win, and conquer her.

Tomorrow was her twenty-first birthday. And she would no longer be trapped in this room, unconditionally submitting herself to this disease. Today she would conquer this disease in memory of her young self turning double digits. Today she would breathe fresh air, without the forced particles monitoring her body.

Her younger sister gripped her hand, placing a petal of a tiger lily—Nesta’s favorite flower—in her palm. Elain had been sneaking in flowers to her hospital room since the very beginning; Nesta had been bewitched by the beauty of the petals and how they quickly withered. The brief, blooming life that were flowers—Nesta knew that often told of humanity in itself.

A touch of a smile graced Elain’s rosy face, although Nesta could detect the uncertainty flooding her younger sister’s mind . “Then I will support you. But I do not know how long I can last against Cassian’s or Feyre’s pestering, so you must act fast.”

A smile formed on the eldest Archeron’s face. “I’ve lived in that hospital bed for nearly eleven years. I think moving on is considered fast from that.”

Maybe a bit too fast, but she wasn’t going to go back on her decision.

Elain had wheeled her sister into the small apartment room her eldest sister had rented out. Those ten years—those long, long drawn out years—her sister had focused on her studies, taking every online course possible. Nesta had applied to Illyrian College as an online student the day after her 18th birthday. Academics had been Nesta’s tether into this world; Nesta’s mind was the only strength she maintained, juxtaposing her debilitating body.

Knowledge was power, and if she couldn’t attain the physical power of completing a marathon like Feyre, then she would seek other methods. So she set out to fulfill this planned destiny of hers, always learning and pushing herself. She’d doubled major in philosophy and history for her bachelors, majoring in US history with a minor in business for her master’s.

She had opened a forum under the Illyrian website of answering questions in her professions, under a charge of ten cents per question. At first, many had complained at the rip-off, it seemed, but—if anything, it seemed as if Nesta was under-charging with her colorful but credible answers where Professors even seemed inclined to flock too. Her now own personal website stood as an online congregation of scholars and the learners desiring to discuss and dream further beyond their bounds and limitations, her own body a vessel as an online respectable tutor.

Elain had suggested this apartment complex, which bordered the city and woods, giving her a chance to live both lives. The complex itself flourished with flowers and plants, criss-crossing trees with thick trunks.

Nesta situated herself onto the bed, and winced, rubbing the part where the tubes had protruded through her skin. Elain had given her a kiss before leaving, needing to do crowd control once the others would have realized her absence. Or maybe they wouldn’t care. A part of Nesta hoped that Cassian would be outraged that she would take the next important step in her life without him, but that would be utterly selfish of her. Her life did not revolve around him and she would be attaching herself to a ruthless playboy who had no longer ceased to care about their childhood memories.

Maybe it was better that way. It hurt and stung like a bitch, but it was definitely easier.

Nesta finally turned on her phone, wincing at the lines of missed calls and unanswered text messages. Her own voicemail had never been this full, and neither had her social media private messages. It was pathetic, and pessimistically horrible. To exist for others out of pity and compassion? She had once wanted a life where she meant something to someone constantly, as more than a check-up. She had once wanted someone to understand that living in pain constantly was part of her story, and that meant living in darkness and bitterness, as if a curtain was always cast over her—as if a cloud of gloom always followed her without hesitation. She had once wanted a Sun to light her darkness and a wind to blow away her clouds, and there was no way she’d find that locked in a hospital room.

Now she just wanted to be alone and left to her own, however miserable, thoughts. The idea of love was a mere notion for the hopeful that had slipped from her long ago. The idea of death had not been new and now seemed to pervade over pore in her tired body.

She tossed her phone onto her nightstand and wobbled to her closet, the motion of walking still foreign to her. Her doctor had recommended to hire a physical therapist if she were to continue living this life and not return to the hospital, and Nesta now knew why. Never before had she walked so much and felt the fresh air slap against her skin, breathing new sights and smell that made sleeping difficult.

She searched her drawers for a blouse and jeans, pulling them on. Slowly, she made her way downstairs, and made herself a cup of green tea, soaking in the silence. The echo of beeps from the machines flooded her ears and the soft footsteps in the hospital corridor incessantly tapped away in her mind.

Nesta made a split-second decision and decided to go out, slipping on her converse Elide had bought for her. Never before had she really used shoes save for the slippers she wore when she felt especially ecstatic in the hospital. The leather against the soles of her feet and socks felt odd as she walked down the hallway.

Just as hit the stairs, and voice called out a hey behind her, and she saw a tall and lanky male, jogging to catch up towards her.

“Are you new around here?” he asked, beady eyes swallowing her frail form. “I’ve just never seen you around here.”

She gave him a curt nod, gripping the handle rail for support. “Just moved into apartment 305.”

He gave her a smile. “I’m Tomas.” He held out his hand. “We’re going to be good friends, you and I.”

Tomas took her to a nearby cafe that was a ten minute walk from the complex. By the time he opened the door for her, she beelined straight for a chair and collapsed into the cushions, already out of breath. Her new friend took it as cue to order for her as she massaged her feet, gulping in air greedily. A light-headed sensation of cotton balls clogging her head swabbed down on her, but she bit down on her lip determinedly.

She would get back in shape. She would. She had too, because she would not let this disease weaken her any more than the little time she had left. She may never go to a club and get drunk reeking of bitter puke and transient contentedness, but she would visit the spiraling libraries full of aged papyrus and gardens that reminded her of Elain.

Tomas slid across the booth from the opposite side of hers. “I hope you like caramel lattes because I ordered you one.” He looked strangely pleased as if he had offered her the world, but Nesta would not budge, not when decisions had been made of hers by others for most of her life. She wouldn’t let this man start doing the same. 

They—all her visitors to her hospital bed, Feyre painting in that dull room, producing works of bare prison lines and geometric shapes that filed under her abstract art, Elain softly singing and sneaking in petal shapes and colors of all sizes—all lied. Said they would always be there for her. Would always understand.

But they didn’t. Instead they stuffed her with jokes and smiles, thinking away the pain they never felt as if their own bodies were rejecting them. They didn’t know of the poison that was her thoughts that sifted through her, encouraging for her to let go of this meaningless. They didn’t know of the inner battle waged since year ten.

They only provided momentarily respite, thinking that was enough. Sure, that made her a selfish bitch, but this bitterness was all she now knew, consuming her in everyway. This first decision would counter it all, the turmoil riding inside of her.

It had too.

“So, what’s wrong with caramel?”

Nesta stiffened. “I don’t like caramel.” That was the only flavor the hospital provided on a daily basis, and that exact taste, after ten years, only served to bring back the flood of images of white walls and hidden coughing, masks and illness. Her father had once mentioned that green tea was her mother favorite’s drink, and since then, Nesta had found herself dedicated to it. She hung onto that memory of the faded image of her mother singing in the kitchen until she had passed away, her own life brief in Nesta’s mind.

Maybe it would be one facet of a memory she would have to let go later on. Her parents now remained dead in her head, her mother physically, and her father a string in the wind. No contact from him when she turned 18, other than the stack of papers to sign from the courtyard. Nothing but empty grief.

“How can you not like caramel?” Tomas demanded, and she winced at the sharpness, her ears ringing from the sounds of the whirring barista. “Caramel is the taste of heavens that every girl like you should enjoy.”

“Every girl like me?” she echoed, seeing red.

Tomas gave an easy shrug. “Sure.”

Nesta bristled in her seat. “You know nothing about me. Do not assume anything more.”

He knew nothing about her life, her choices, and her thoughts. He had absolutely no right—

After a moment’s thought, he added almost more forcibly, “Then what do you like?”

“Green tea.”

Tomas blinked in surprise. “I—”

“Look what we have here,” a male voice rumbled, and her heart rate sped up. Suddenly, her legs didn’t seem so tired and she stopped gripping the edge of the table. Those broad shoulders and stubbled chin filled her vision, and Nesta swore that he had gotten larger. A familiar set of dimples winked down on her and those deep, brown eyes stared unfathomably at her.

She schooled her features into a neutral expression. Where the hell was Elain?

Tomas protested as Cassian shoved him down the booth, squashing him in the far corner.

Cassian’s smile was edged with ice and something more. “So you think you’re good enough to go on a date and not answer your damned phone, Nesta?”

“I owe you nothing.”

Those dimples disappeared in a flash, and his palms flattened against the table. “Nothing?” he almost snarled.

Tomas huffed. “Excuse you, you uncultured swine, but I’m on a date with this lovely lady here—”

“She’s not a lady,” Cassian exclaimed, just as Nesta bit out, “This isn’t a date.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” Tomas demanded, crossing his arms, ignoring the male that was visibly shouldering him against the wall. “I bought you a caramel latte!”

The hulking brute that was Cassian turned towards Tomas, an eyebrow cocked. “And did you know that dear Nesta doesn’t like caramel?” A part of Nesta delighted in the fact that Cassian still remembered piece of her, and she watched as her childhood friend a squished Tomas further down until his sides were pressing against the window pane, Tomas’s arm bent at an awkward angle.

Cassian turned towards her, a whirlwind of emotions in his eyes. “And what do you want, Nesta?”

Nesta stared at the two males in front of each other, feeling the exertion of male dominance exuding from them. The aura of challenge hung in the air as they stared her down.

“I want a physical therapist,” she blurted, and Tomas gave her a blank stare. She didn’t blame him. She considered ordering a green tea as a means to temporarily escape from the pigs sitting across from her.

Cassian didn’t give her the chance as he leaned across the table, twiddling his thumbs. “Well, sweetheart, if you had bothered to answer my calls, you would have learned that I’m a certified physical therapist.”

Nesta shrugged. They didn’t have to tell each other anything; they weren’t friends anymore—hadn’t been for three years. Though it hurt to know that he’d obtained certification without her knowing until word of mouth. Well—if he could without knowledge from her, then she certainly knew where they stood in terms of friendship.

She dismissed him with a glance and looked around the table, watching in satisfaction as Cassian’s face turned feral at the corner of her eye. Tomas’s lips twitched in sly amusement.

“I’ll search for trainers online,” said Nesta, turning the cold shoulder. “Any places to start?”

“I just said I was a trained!” Cassian gave her an exasperated glance, his arms bending.

Sighing, she turned her head towards him and crossed her arms. “I’m looking for a professional physical therapist.”

A small part of her soaked in Cassian’s taken aback expression. However, Nesta decided she didn’t like Tomas’s smile that sent chills down her smile. It reminded her too much of the men in the hospital that seemed to like the sight of the younger females broken on the emergency beds filled with ailments and in need of immediate surgery. The ones who thrived on the pain of others that was irrevocably undeserved.

“Thank you for your time.” Nesta curtly dipped her head in Tomas’s direction and stood up as confidently as she could. “I’ll take my leave now.”

She walked out the door, rubbing her arms against the slight chill a breeze had whipped out. Her legs burned in protest from use, and she quickly picked up her pace until she knew she was out of sight. Spotting a tree as her savior, she leaned against the trunk, closing her eyes.

“Nesta,” a voice said, and she didn’t bother to turn around.

Arms scooped her up bridal style and she stared at that rugged face she had grown so accustomed to. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going off life support?” he breathed, almost sounding betrayed.

“Only Elain knew.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed as he followed the trail Nesta had stopped in the middle of. A hand ran down her back soothingly, and she fought back the urge to rest her chin on his shoulder. Once upon a time she would have relaxed in his embrace and granted herself the leisure of letting go.

“You shouldn’t be walking so much,” he accused. “Your muscles need to acclimate to being used after lying around for so long.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped. “You aren’t my doctor.”

“No, but this is what I do for a living—and I’m not a dumbass, Nesta.” He retorted, hefting her higher in his arms and closer to his chest.

They came into view of the apartment complex, and she felt Cassian’s hand slide along the curve of  her ass. Right when she was about to scream and buck, he triumphantly fished her key out of her pockets.

“Apartment 305,” he gave her a cheeky grin. “Now I know where you live.”

She rolled her eyes as he easily carried her up the set of stairs and to her room. Nesta wouldn’t directly say it, but she missed his warmth as her private heating furnace. As soon as he found the correct number, she slid out of his arms and deftly took the key out of his fingers.

“Nesta,” he started, his voice low. “How could you not tell me?”

She ignored that heartbroken look on his face, and stubbornly crossed her arms. “You made your decision and I made mine.”

“What decision?” he leaned forward so that the noses were nearly touching, and she could see the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Tomas Manadray does not have a good name,” Cassian insisted. “He’s not part of a good crowd.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and definitely stared at him. “Like you? Don’t think Rhys tells me of your suspensions and partying with girls all night, and what you do with them.” The last part came out bitterly, and Nesta wished she could take it back.

The edges of Cassian’s eyes crinkled. “Are you jealous, Nesta Archeron?”

“Why would I be jealous when I can finally move on with people who actually care about me?” She inserted the key and twisted it.

“Why do you keep insinuating that I don’t care? That I’m pretending? Because I am not.” Cassian reached for her, but Nesta batted his hand away.

“Your actions said otherwise,” she bluntly said, and slammed the door in his face.

#nessian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nessian cancer au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #sjm #one-shot