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after-witch · 3 years

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White Picket Fence [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: White Picket Fence [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve been with Kai Chisaki for three years. Your life is quiet and cozy and soothing. But what do you do when you realize you want more?

For request: Anonymous said: i love the way you write overhaul!! may i request more of him, please? what would he do if reader develops stockholm syndrome and wants to do the things which normal couples do, even wants to marry him or have kids? thank you!

Word count: 2200-ish

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome

You should really ask Kai to get a new sofa for his office. His current one, the leather one which used to be shiny and pristine and rather intimidating for someone used to sitting on ratty chairs pilfered from curbs, has definitely seen better days.

The seats are lumpier, now that you've spent years--3 years, one month, 3 days, but who's counting--in his life, sprawling on the sofa. Reading, napping, doing endless hobbies. Snuggling, when he was in the mood. An endless parade of legs and limbs, pillows and books, growing tiny scratches etched with your fingernails that you sit on to cover them up.

His entire office has your touches, now. The blanket you asked for last Christmas, a big fluffy bright purple affair, is draped over the back of the couch. He keeps your framed embroidered pieces on his desk, because--you assume, but he won't confirm, because he thinks it will hurt your feelings (it won't!)--he can easily stow them away when he has meetings to hold. You don't embroider much, anymore, but it was fun to take on a new hobby.

Kai is kind like that, to give you new hobbies to do. He doesn’t even mind when you get bored of them and move on to something else.

Your books are not as easy to stow away in case of guests, you think. They're scattered here, there, everywhere. In stacks, on shelves. You know there's one stuck under the sofa but you didn't really like the first book in the series and you've decided it should stay put as a result.

Bookmarks, some handmade, others handed over by Kai as a gift for this or that, sticking out of the well-worn pages. Once, you snuck on YouTube during your highly limited, highly precious tablet time (earned, as it were, over the past 2 years) and stumbled on a DIY for making resin bookmarks stuffed with trinkets, glitter, flowers, ink. You’ve yet to broach the subject with Kai, because one, it would mean admitting you snuck on YouTube but two, you don’t think he’ll let you work with resin. But, still. The seed has been planted and when it sprouts, you’ll get the nerve to ask him.

Your sleeping bag is in the laundry, wherever the laundry happens to be, but on colder days you like to spread it on the floor and have reading or hobby marathons while he works. It's childish, but he humors you. He always (mm, no--usually--he did shoot down requests for the dog, the cat, the fish, the rabbit, and the lizard) humors you. You appreciate that about him.

And you appreciate this moment, right now. You're curled up on the sofa, half of the soft blanket in your lap to keep you warm. A book is in your hand, something new from the best-seller list that Kai brought home in a tidy store bag. He brings lots of gifts, and you appreciate every one of them. Although Kai does make you declutter every month. If you didn’t, your room would be simply stuffed with gifts. You don’t begrudge him this, since he lets you keep anything that’s especially precious to you. It’s a fair trade--you’re precious to him and he keeps you, after all.

He's typing away on his laptop, the sound so familiar that it's practically white noise, and you sit on the couch and read. It's quiet. It's comforting. It's... domestic, really.

And it makes you sad.

Lately, sitting in Kai’s office--these quiet moments, these nice moments, just make you sad. You don't know why. Things are good right now, but you just feel weighted down, heavy. Lost and bored and aimless.

But it shouldn’t make you sad that you’re enjoying a new book. Maybe you’re sad about something else. You can’t remember having a bad dream. The outfit Kai picked out for you this morning was cute enough. You didn’t stub your toe getting into the tub. Kai didn’t tug on your hair when brushing out the knots. So… what’s wrong?

You turn your attention back to your book, trying to shake the feeling, shake the obtrusive thoughts that sometimes find their way to the surface now and then. But the words don't want to leap off the page, weaving a story in your mind that takes you into someone else's life and narrative and world for a few precious hours.

And here, again--you don’t know what’s wrong. It’s an interesting enough book, as books go. It's a domestic novel about domestic squabbles, a husband and wife who are 15 years and 3 children into their marriage; living in the pristine suburbs, tired of working and parenting and painted fences and tired of each other.

Maybe the book isn't clicking because you can't really relate. You would never get tired of such things, you think. To have a fence! Oh, to have a yard. Or maybe even have little children, with lives to manage and nurture. Wouldn’t that be nice?

You don't have those things. No--you can't have those things, can you? Your world has been shrunk down to a few rooms. Your bedroom. The bathroom. Kai's office. The clinic. You've made those rooms cozy and comforting. With things and time. But how could you have a toddler, a fence, a dog that barks too much in these limited walls, in this limited life?

And… how could you have any children running around when Kai has never expressed an interest in that sort of life with you. Oh, you've kissed. A few times. The memory of them makes your cheeks hot and you squirm, just a little, on the couch. You like to take those kisses with you at night, under the covers. But it's never been more than kisses, than light touches, than holding hands or feather-light strokes of your neck.

He's never gone further, never so much as asked. You also take this realization with you at night, though by morning the thoughts are gone. Now, in the daylight, they hit you hard and you can’t sleep to make them go fuzzy and grey.

Does he not want you in that way? You're not a virgin, and you don't know if he is, or isn't. But you thought you were attractive enough to... want. You kissed, he did kiss you, he does still kiss you now and then, but why not something more?

Maybe you were ugly. Maybe he felt pity for you. Maybe the kisses were just to keep you from going stir-crazy inside these walls and this life that never went anywhere. He was never going to want anything more than occasional touches, was he? And this was going to be your life, embroidering and reading and fussing about sleeping bags until you were old and grey and useless. A life wasted, a life slipped through the cracks. Your chest hurts and you wish you could fall asleep to make yourself stop thinking.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" Kai asks, keyboard silent, laptop humming.

Oh. You've been staring ahead this entire time. You feel cool tears wet on your cheeks. You do this sometimes, drift and stare and cry, and never seem to realize it. So you wipe your cheeks, and you smile. You don't want to worry him. He has so many things to worry about, things he won't tell you, because he knows best--you couldn't hope to understand his work. You are too naïve and kind, and he's got what your 90s-era self help books (you had a phase for reading them last January) call "street smarts."

When he doesn't resume his work, you try again. "It's nothing," you say, light and airy. "I was just thinking about a book."

Instead of typing, he shuts the laptop and your stomach immediately feels like it's going to float away. No, no, no, you've distracted him. He said he had a lot to do today, he said that! Why couldn't you just read your book and be good. Now he'll be upset and distracted and worried and it's all your fault.

You instinctively move over to make room as he sits down on the couch. You don't want to look at him, but you don’t want to not look at him. So you force yourself to smile, force yourself to look--not too happy, but, pleasant, and keep your eyes focused on his shoulders. He rests his hand on top of yours. You look up at his face--it’s only polite, it’s only kind--and the instance your gazes meet you immediately crumble. You cry. Ugly cry, the kind of crying you really hate to do. His look of surprised concern makes your heart twist. You really are bothering him.

But you have to know.

"Why don't you want to marry me?" Your voice is soft and hoarse and aching. Through your tears you see his look of genuine confusion, surprise--and even something sadder, something akin to hurt.

You want to explain. You want to explain how you've just realized that you'll never have kids and a nice big yard and he'll never come home from work to a good meal and kids running on hardwood floors to greet him. You'll never have a wedding with a fancy dress and tasteful invitations. You'll never argue with neighbors about your dog getting into their yard.

You'll never learn to cook anything more than the shitty microwave meals you ate before you met him, because you've never even seen a kitchen in this place despite being here for years. You’ll never have any of it, except what you read about it books. How do you explain that you’re jealous of a bitter, old married couple because at least they had a life together?

The hand resting on top of yours squeezes and you finally feel the blustery courage to let it all spill out. The words come tumbling fast and thick and laced with a froggy hoarseness.

"Why can't we have a normal... a normal life? I can't have," you swallow, and take a shuddering breath. You're open, you've learned so many lessons to be open with Kai, but expressing these thoughts makes you feel queasy. What if he gets mad?

“I can't have kids and a big yard and a dog that the neighbors don't like, because I'm here, in these little--these little walls and little rooms, and how can we have kids if we're not married, and how can we be married if you've only kissed me a few times? Why don't you want to be with me? What's wrong with me?"

You're hyperventilating now, and there's an old tingle that you've suppressed, the fear and rage and helplessness that once made you scream and throw and punch walls. You think about the book under the sofa and hate it so much for being there. You think about your embroidery sitting prettily on Kai’s desk and you want to rip out every single thread.

You think you really break open, about to grab something and just destroy it, when suddenly Kai’s gloved hands are on your cheeks and his mask is gone and oh, his lips are on yours and is that tongue you feel--it is, it definitely is--and he’s never kissed you like this, deep and warm and soft and wet.

He pulls away and you’re dumbfounded and you must look dumb, too, because Kai wipes away a stubborn line of drool on your bottom lip and chuckles, low and light. He leaves the ugly, thick tears that have stained your cheeks.

“Do you really think I don’t want to be with you?” His thumb strokes your lips and the seam of the glove tickles and sends a hot thrill shooting down your stomach. “Do you think I haven’t imagined our… future?”

His touch is soft and his words are soft and his gaze is familiar and comfortable; the look that makes your stomach do fumbles, the look he gives you when he’s letting you know that you’re being silly again.

“I… I don’t know,” you say, your shaky breath ghosting over his thumb. “It’s just--”

He presses his thumb on your lips and you quiet down, and you listen.

“I’m waiting until you’re ready. You know that I know what’s best for us, what’s best for you, don’t you?”

You nod.

“Then you know that we will have all those things--” you ignore the voice inside you, so small and silly now, that’s insisting you-won’t-you-won’t-you-won’t--- “but only when you’re ready.”

He smiles, and you smile, because you know that he’s right. You wipe away your own tears and grin, sheepish and feeling so ridiculous for having a fit right in the middle of the day like this.

You let yourself be tucked in, let Kai drape the soft blanket over your legs. He presses a kiss to your forehead and your lips tingle with envy. You watch as he goes back to his desk and sits down, as he replaces his gloves and his mask. All is well, all is back to normal.

Kai starts typing, and you let the white noise soothe you as you pick up your book and flip open to your bookmark. Maybe tomorrow you’ll ask about the resin.

#yandere overhaul #yandere #yandere kai chisaki #overhaul x reader #afterwitch writes #he is SUCh... an asshole

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multiplefandomsblog · 3 years

Note

your roommate hcs are so cute, can i request for naib, demi, tracy, andrew, kurt, patricia, and victor?

:0 holy crap yes! I’m so glad you enjoyed the roommate hcs!! Me and the other mods hope you enjoy these! Thank you for requesting :))

(i added melly because why not? lmao hope you don’t mind.)

Part 1!

Naib Subedar

This man deadass didn’t know you were living with him

Even when people told him about it, he wasn’t rlly paying attention and didn’t rlly care

Your stuff in his room? He thought it was his or someone just broke into his room and left it there

When he saw you on the toilet however, he just freaked out.

“Why the hell are you shitting in my room!?” “Your room? I’ve been living here for 2 months!”

Once he found out you lived with him, he made sure you knew what was his and what was yours

also, since he’s very protective of his things-- you being one of them-- he would totally get jealous if he caught you tallking to someone that wasn’t him.

he would probably give you the silent treatment and act like a pissy baby

He hates it when you touch his stuff

especially his photos, the photos were special to him because they were of him and his army friends.

You’d sometimes catch him looking at the photos with a longing in his eyes, it was highkey sad.

having you live with him meant lots and lots of training

he made sure you were always prepared for matches and that you don’t get downed early

when you got downed early however, He would scold you but he would still rescue you anyways because he’s soft

“You’re such an idiot, you’d better do better next time! Or else I’ll kick your ass.”

one time he got cocky while kiting because you were watching him

he forgot to turn on his elbow pads and face palmed into the wall.

“...You saw nothing.” He turned around, a bit woozy from hitting his head on a wall. He flipped the hunter off before stumbling wooshing away

When you first get to know naib, he’d probably come off as intimidating and menacing

but once you get to know him--the real him--, you start to understand that even though he may be tough on you, its because he wants you to be the best

he has good intentions

During matches he’d let you handle yourself and made sure you didn’t rely on him too much

One time you needed to shower but you ran out of your shampoo so you used his.

When he questioned you, you simply responded “What? You don’t need it anyways, you’re bald!”

He didn’t rescue you the next round.

should’ve seen that coming

though he forgives you when you braid his luscious long existent hair for him

Kurt Frank

The amount of times you almost stepped on this man is astronomical.

he would constantly be in his tiny form because he would lose a lot of his things

his tiny form helped him find his things easily

Though when you first moved in with him, you had no idea what his ability was

so when you first saw a tiny version of your roommate you thought he was just a weird doll

until you heard him say a tiny, “Hey can you move your ginORMOUS foot? You’re stepping on my book.”

You fucking screeched and took off your shoe to try and kill him

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

After he explained to you about his ability you calmed down a bit and spared this tiny man but only this time!

Frank loves books, he probably filled your shared rooms with stacks on stacks of books

You’d often see him tiny, waving at you while you’re decoding

Once you overhead Kurt arguing with First Officer over who was the rightful owner of some sort of treasure map

They fought for days,

kurt would constantly complain about it to you

turns out it was just a game on the back of a Cereal box.

sorry this is short like kurt

Tracy Reznik

Would be a little awkward at first, but the awkwardness slowly fades away when you both make bad jokes

she gives me childhood best friend vibes

Has her doll sitting in the corner of your shared room room, it’s lifeless eyes scare the living shit out of you in the dark you try not to make eye contact, afraid it’ll curse you or smth

if she was mad at you she would move the bot in a way that looked like it was flipping you off you off in your direction before you went to bed.

Always making little robot things that are super fun to play with

Loves sharing her things. Has no problem with it

you wanna wear her clothes? sure

you want to wear her underwear? evEN BETTER-

Pulling all nighters, trying to get her machines to work like how she wanted it to work.

Would live off of kraft Mac n cheese and junk food in the modern day

Pretty hyper, chugs pink monster energy drinks while pulling all nighters, also, in the modern day

would probably be a bruh girl

Her room is a mess, covered with blueprints and scrap metal

her room is practically a safety hazard

Sometimes she dresses her doll up a bit, putting wigs or her old clothes on it (which scares you half to death)

Once she made her doll dress up like her

and you almost went up to it to ask what it wanted for dinner.

Has a photo of her and her dad

You never wanted to bring it up, worried it might make her upset :(

Sometimes she’d feel really guilty about being downed in the first 30 seconds

please comfort her, she feels super bad

She always relies on you to rescue her

She gets really happy and thankful when you body block for her but she still gets a bit concerned when you do it randomly

“i wasn’t even kiting-” “Protecc the mecc.”

Demi Bourbon

Always out at the bar

Smells like alcohol constantly

tipsy 24/7

she’s never 100% sober

You have to hold her hair out of her face when she comes back to your shared room to hurl

Likes bringing back hard vodka or weird flavoured alcohols back for you guys to get wasted try together

Room is bit cluttered, but she doesn’t have much in her room since she’s always out in bars or matches

Usually latches onto you like a parasite when she’s drunk.

it gets a bit awkward when her face is a bit close to yours,

“Are we about to kiss right now-? BLeurghgrhgherrgh.”“...*audible sigh*”

You’d go to her expecting her to heal you like a normal person but no

instead she shoves dovlin down your throat

She likes to do your makeup, and always adds a matching beauty mark

unless you don’t wear makeup, then she’d ask you to do hers

always loves how she looks afterwards

more than sometimes demi would get into bar fights,

so you know she’s about to throw hands when she starts takes off her earrings-

10/10 would fight for you <3

She’s gives me cool wine aunt vibes

Probably a lesbian too (check out our Demi smut fic ;))

Or bi, idk

Just straightn’t

She’s really good at hyping you up, especially when you’re taking shots

“CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG-”

Andrew Kreiss

Would be very shy at first, opens up a little when you get to know him

Totally a night owl, can’t sleep at night from all the guilt and “what if’”s

if you see this baby awake at night, hug him, he really needs it

You’ve never seen the other side of his face

How does he see with hair in his eyes?

He’s albino, which is super dope

Sometime you fear he’s thinking about burying you

You always see him thwacking Luca with his shovel

Barely talks

Room is moderate

He doesn’t want you to find out too much about him

He may seem bland, but he loves sweet food

You’d bake him cookies and other sweets

He’d act as if he’s not embarrassed and brush it off

“Are you blushing?”“No, I-I’m sunburnt.” “On your face?” “....I stare into the hot red sun sometimes because it eases me.”

to keep his lie going, every time he catches you staring at him he would fry his eye balls by staring into the sun until you left

partially the reason why he can’t see well

When he’s not looking, you stare at him while he’s eating the stuff you made because he looks so happy :’)

One time you found him down in the dumps so you made him a cup of coffee, and when you handed it to him you said-

“Depresso espresso?”

*sniff* ”..are you oka-” “IM NOT CRYING, YOU ARE”

he actually cried

it was such a nice gesture(?), that he started ugly crying

You’d ask him if he wanted hugs during matches when you see him get stressed

He’d be flushed and kinda confused

hug... him? why tho lmao

he’d definitely agree tho, to be fair, with some hesitation

if y’all ever cuddled in bed, i feel like he’d be a little spoon

poor boy needs the comfort, he wouldn’t mind if you wanted to be little spoon tho

he just wants to be close to you

Victor Grantz

You love playing with his dog, Wick

Super nice and polite, but a little guarded

The type to be too afraid to call people out when they do something wrong but would totally trash them in his head

You write him little letters everyday and leave them on his bed to make him happy :))

He’d a be a little spoon

Wick would always join you guys while cuddling

Kisses would be soft and gentle

Usually sends you the first letter in matches

Loves to cuddle

He bb 🥰

You always get him a birthday present AND a Christmas present

You also get a gift for Wick

He loves giving you surprise hugs

Likes to read with you while cuddling

Literally a cinnamon roll

Once he was eating a cinnamon roll

And you whispered

“C a n n i b a l i s m .”

He was very confused

and kind of scared- were you going to eat him?

Patricia Dorval

Room always smells like herbs

She could literally smoke weed and you’d think it’s some magical healing herb

it magically makes you feel better

Always there to stun the hunter when you’re ballooned

The mature one

Her room is organized, with boxes labeling what herbs and magic stuff that are in them

You were cooking dinner for the day and you accidentally used one of her fancy herbs in your soup

She didn’t realize until she tried the soup

She wasn’t mad just disappointed

She lectured you on how you shouldn’t touch her stuff or use it for cooking

Gotta admit tho, the soup was pretty good

she acts like the mom everyone wishes they had

totally the type to be like, “dude we should think this through.” before doing something risky

and then five seconds later, “cowABUNGA MY DUDES”

one time she caught kreacher leaving the mens washroom without washing his hands

seeing as she was the mother of this manor, she had to protect her children from diseases

so she yeeted her monkey skull at kreachers head, cleanly knocking him out

and everybody cheered.

Melly Plinius

When you heard melly was going to be your roomie, you couldn’t have been more excited.

you finally had a victim for the many insect pick up lines!

So you decided to make some good first impressions by waiting for her in your room.

so when she arrived to your room and greeted you, you happily greeted her back, and slipped in the pick up line.

“Hello, my name is Melly. I believe I will be your ro-?”“Yeah nice to meet you too, say, what do bees make?”

She kinda thought you were a bit rude so much for first impressions

“...Erm, honey?” she replied hesitantly

“YES DEAR?”

... okay maybe you weren’t thaaaat bad.

after that she kind of developed a teensy crush on you

so it was hard living with you because of her crush, since she was constantly flustered

you loved her reactions, she constantly got red.

it was funny watching her try to keep her cool and fail.

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imagine-loki · 3 years

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The Bitch With Daggers

TITLE: The Bitch of Daggers CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Three AUTHOR: i-would-kneel-for-loki ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine there being someone else like Loki in the Avengers and them meeting, that could never go wrong, could it? RATING: NOTES/WARNINGS: none

“I think you should go for it.” Oliver stated. I had just got back to them and informed them about Fury’s offer. “I mean, yeah we’d stop fighting together, but you have a chance to do something greater. Go for it.”

“I have to agree with him on this.” Origen said. Laying on the couch staring at the ceiling, I just sighed, confused as to what I should do. I know they’re only being supportive, but still wasn’t 100% sure about it. “We’ll always have your back. If you go in then decide you want out, we’re here, forever.” He walked over and sat down on the chair facing me. “You’ve already given so much away”, his tone turned soft, “do something that benefits you.”

“But what we do benefits me!” I argued. “The fact that we kill those who are a threat to fragile and vulnerable people benefits me.”

“It pleases you.” Oliver corrected with a look. He came, sat by my feet and looked down at his hands in his lap, then looked up at me. “Maybe it’s time one of us does good with the law’s protection. You know? The kind of good that would be recognised and acknowledged.”

They had a point. For almost three years, we’ve been eliminating monsters who feed on people’s weaknesses and fears. We’ve done it behind the government’s back, we had to fake our deaths in order to never be suspected and captured. Had many close calls, some failed missions, lots of blood on our hands. This group, this team, my family, was all I had for three years, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let go of what kept me sane.

The sun began rising, pink etched into the sky with splatters of purple, the need to decide was overwhelming. So with a glass of whiskey in hand and a phone in another, I rang Fury, “You’ll be pleased to know that I’m accepting the offer. But keep in mind that I’m doing this for Flora.”

“It doesn’t matter to me why as long as you’re in.” He stated. “Be at the compound in an hour, see you then.” With that, he hung up. The guys were still asleep and I didn’t have the heart to wake them up and tell them that I’ve agreed, so I grabbed my packed bags and wrote them a note before leaving.

The ride was short, but emotionally difficult. Upon my arrival I was questioned, until Nick came and approved my entrance. Whilst walking along the corridor, he began, “The team is waiting to meet you. Though I have to be honest, they’re not exactly… ecstatic to meet you.”

“Wouldn’t blame them”, I sighed, “Did you tell about any of my past works?” I smirked, fully aware that he hasn’t.

“You know me, I’d rather leave that honour to you.” He laughed. “Oh and”, he stopped and turned to me, “You’re gonna need a superhero name.”

“A what now?” I laughed. “Come on you’ve gotta be kidding me. Really?” I said in disbelief, “A superhero name?”

He resumed his walk with a laugh, me hot on his tail, “Well everyone on the team has one, so you gotta choose.”

“God that’s fucking dumb.” I muttered under my breath and shook my head. We took a right and into view came a room with glass doors, inside it were the avengers, sitting around a table. Well, most of them were sitting around the table.

Fury opened the door for me then got in, closing it behind him. “Avengers,” he began loudly, “This is Océane, the new recruit.”

Everyone turned to me with blank stares, I just smiled. Then one of them came over and put his hand out, “Nice to meet you kid, name’s Clint Barton, or Hawkeye.” I shook his hand with a smile of my own. The room held all the avengers – Tony, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Scott, Wanda, Vision, Rhodey and Peter Parker.

“Nice to meet you Clint, heard you’re the best archer there is out there.” He inclined his head to the side with a laugh.

“Well I wouldn’t say so. Director told us you have some experience in that arena.”

“Well”, I began with a laugh, “Nothing compared to your skills I’m sure.” Everyone came forward and introduced themselves, not that I didn’t already know who they were. The last one was a new face; someone I didn’t recognise although seeming familiar. “And which hero are you?” I directed my words to him. His eyes green eyes were a stark contrast to his pale skin and black hair. I had seen him before but couldn’t place a name on him.

“Well I am no hero to begin with.” He said with a smirk and a glint of mischief in his eyes, “I am simply here as an act of redemption for my past faults.”

“Act of redemption…?” I trailed off, brows furrowed and concentrating on who this might be, when it clicked. “Ah, you must be Loki, the God of mischief and lies.”

“So you’ve heard of me.” He was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Yes, I have,” I chuckled, “Well I must say it is lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise, lady Océane.” He flashed a dazzling smile and walked over to where he previously stood.

“How old are you kid?” Tony began the interrogation.

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Do you have any siblings?” Steve carried on with the questioning.

“A sister.” I answered curtly. “She’s five.”

“So how long you been on the loose?” Rhodey asked, making me chuckle.

“About three years now, I had to run ever since SHIELD decided to intrude.” I said with a small smile. “You know that they took my sister from me when my parents passed away and they knew of my powers, right?”

“Oh.” Rhodey trailed off quietly, “No”, he said looking at Fury along with everyone else, “No we didn’t know.”

I turned my face to him, “It’s cool, I’ve grown accustomed to it.” I looked behind him to notice Loki had a hard a face, glaring at the Director. Steve had his arms crossed, also glaring. Tony had a pitiful look on his face, Bruce seemed sad, Thor appeared conflicted, unsure on how to feel. “Anyway that’s why I’m here,” I continued in hopes of killing the sudden tension. “Fury said if I join, I get to have custody over her again.”

“How’d your parents pass away?” Wondered Bucky.

“Car accident, a drunk asshole hit ‘em.”

“Alright,” Fury clapped his hand on my back, “Now that you’re all familiar with each other, I’m leaving.” Then turned to me and said, “There are others that aren’t here.”

“Like whom?” I frowned.

“There’s Doctor Strange, but he permanently resides in the New York sanctum and King T’Challa – the Black Panther – stays in Wakanda.” I nodded in understanding, and with that he left.

I turned back to the team, “So who’s gonna show me where I’m staying?”

“I will.” Loki volunteered.

“No you won’t.” Natasha cut him off while looking at me with an amused smile. He clenched his jaw at that.

“You can accompany us.” I suggested, making him smirk and nod, following us out. They led me to another part of the building and took me to the 6th floor, we were on the 4th.

“Did the Director say anything about when you would see your sister?” The handsome God asked. His cheek bones could cut diamond in half and I was finding myself getting lost in his enchanting, sparkling eyes.

“No he hasn’t.”

The Russian assassin guided me down a hallway and gestured to a door on the left. “This is your room.” It was quite a vast room, a queen-sized bed in the middle, a walk-in wardrobe, shelves on the wall for me to stack my books up and a connected bathroom. “You’re free to decorate it whenever and however you feel like it.”

“Alright then, thank you.” I sent her a smile and she left me and Loki alone. Walked over to the window and looked down at the busy street. The spacious room was empty, it felt lonely. “I hope it’s soon, I long to see her.” I said looking back at him, “If she remembers me, that is.” I muttered quietly.

“I’m sure she will.” He tried to reassure me. “If not, you will simply make memories with her, get her used to you.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I said with a half-smile. He smiled back and patted my back, but I leaned into him, hugging him. He seemed shocked however didn’t give him enough time to react before pulling back with a small smile.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Others #Imagine #Submitted fic #submission #i-would-kneel-for-loki #chapter 3 #the bitch of daggers

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pseudofaux · 3 years

Note

1/2 Pseu, the last couple Slings I rq’ed some dirty talk & MA’AM did u deliver. But I realized I never thanked/gave feedback like a dummy so here I am! They were so so SO good (fenrir esp & SIRIUS?! 😳 woof), pls dont doubt ur DT writing skills bc they were all so hot, /very/ in character (I could practically hear Kyles!) & beautifully written to boot. Ur prose has so much personality, it is such a joy to read <3 & I have def read those pieces. many. times. I just want to thank u & apologize for asking u 2 go out of ur comfort zone. When I get the chance I will def tip u for the trouble (& commission if im brave enough lol)

Thank you so, so much for this! I really appreciate hearing that the dirty talk worked for you, that’s the best. When other writers do that right it GETS ME FEELING, so knowing that might be true outward as well is!!! a lot and very cool! But if you are this nice to me I will CRY. 🥺💙💙💙 SO LET’S GET TO THE GOOD SH*T, I am so glad you asked for this because Faust is one of the best characters to get n a s t y with, the holier the man, the, uh... holier our holes? Something like that? ANYWAY:

CW: degrading language (”whore”, “slut”), sadism, some sacrilegious thinking regarding Jesus’ crucifixion (this is quick and about related imagery, but I’m putting it in the warnings just in case), depravity in a church. If any of the stuff in the ask squicks you out, keep yourself safe and turn away. 💙

(Requests are open through May 1 if you would like to get one in, dear reader!)

“A whore in my chapel,” he muses. It’s so soft, his voice is so very soft, it makes the words feel funny in her head. She knows they are lashes but they feel like petals, and when her eyes close it is not to hide from the words but to shut out everything except his voice so she does not miss any others. She wants everything he has to say. She wants anything he has to give her. All the thorns of the crown, every scrape of the doubter’s spear slicing through the flesh of her belly. Simply knowing him—as though there were anything simple about it— has warped her. That’s why she stepped through the doors into the dim chapel, lit more by moonlight than the sparse candles at the altar.

He tilts his head as he considers her. She is just beyond the threshold and she is just deciding she should beg him to let her stay when he moves closer.

“Open,” he says, but he is pulling at her mouth with one gloved finger as he begins talking so she has no chance to obey on her own. She wants to! Why is he taking that from her? She leans forward as though it will help her anticipate his next request sooner.

She is not prepared at all for him to grab her by the chin or come so close. Her heart knows the joy of an entire flock of freed birds when she thinks he is going to kiss her. There has never been a time when she blinked so fast in her life—

He comes close enough for warmth, but not touch. He spits between her open lips. “Move that around with your tongue. Get the filth out of your sluttish mouth,” he tells her. She is beyond shocked but she does as he says. It should be revolting to have someone else’s saliva in her mouth like this, but she is so gone for him she doesn’t even want to swallow, wants to keep that piece of him mixing with her, safe and warm. When he takes a step back and lets go, she falls to her knees with her palms up like some kind of penitent. She doesn’t mean to. It just feels right.

She could be in a comfortable bed right now, instead of on the unswept floor of a chapel, all her worshipful inclination aimed away from the altar and toward a very dangerous man. Will her foolishness mean they find her in a ditch somewhere... Will they find her at all? Or will he send her back on unsteady feet with her own juice tickling her legs as it travels from her core to the ground? She can’t fathom what will seem most cruel to him, what he’s most likely to do.

That’s not really a part of her interest. She’s not sure she could explain the interest if she tried, but it is the full shape of her heart now, and directs her nighttime steps to him no matter what her brain tells her otherwise. If she knew where he was during the day, she would try to find him then, too. Her comfortable bed is nice but it does not make her blood sing like he does. The pain he gives, and his presence, those are things she has come to need.

And he fulfills those needs. He’s generous with pain and he is always there when he gives it to her. She nearly swoons to the floor thinking about it, and only the thought that she might lose out on time with him keeps her upright and dutifully swirling his spit in her mouth.

“Get up, imbecile,” he says, and he points further into the chapel! She is being invited even more inside! She could weep! “Lean back against that pew. You’re not even worthy of kneeling in this place.”

She’s not. Somewhere in her there is a heart that is kind and good, and a person who tries to do her best, but the moment she left the mansion to come here she was guided only by selfish lust. It’s what makes her stand up so fast. She doesn’t even know what he will do if she manages to please him... so far she has only experienced his sharpness, and it has worked to hook her as surely as a fish.

Her feet are moving but she is lost in an imagining that he is piercing the side of her mouth when he shouts “Swallow already!” at her, and it makes her jump. It also makes her so, so happy that he was paying so much attention. Every echo of his rage is like choir music. She swallows immediately. In her rush her throat betrays her and she feels like she will choke, but before she can stop herself she coughs and then keeps trying to clear her windpipe. His hand is on her upper arm and he shakes her like a rag doll. It does not help, but it feels like a dance.

Faust grits out “Get. Over there.” and she gets, still coughing. It is uncomfortable and her eyes are watering but she longs for him more than air and he let go of her arm when he pushed her toward the pews. So her steps are sad ones.

She puts her back and her hands onto the curve of the pew. It’s wide, smooth wood beneath her. The sturdiness brings her head down from the clouds in time to hear the slide of the book bundle he has kicked toward her, just in time to move her ankle out of the way. He laughs and mutters something she can’t hear. She tries very, very hard not to pout about it.

“I don’t have all night,” he says flatly. “Put your foot up and show your sin to me.”

It’s a scramble to comply-- should she hold up her skirt first or put a foot on the books and then raise the fabric?-- but her body just moves, eager to comply. This is why she’s here. As much as for him, she is in this chapel for what only he can do.

He rolls his eyes as she wads up her skirt in her hands. Her stockings can’t be clean after that time on the chapel floor, and there is no way her underwear is without a telltale patch of lust, not with the way all his power has been pooling between her legs since before she even touched the other side of the chapel doors. When he steps close she can actually feel a tiny but undeniable gush of arousal slipping out of her so easily it might as well be her self-control. It’s mortifying. She hopes he sees.

Then he is close, close enough for one of his hands to slip behind the leg that goes straight to the ground and stroke it, which makes her bite back a moan. She has to clench her teeth shut just to withstand the gentle contact without falling over. When he pulls her leg up, her knee rests beside his hip and she begins to shudder so hard she fears she will convulse.

“Stop that this instant,” he hisses, and his fingers dig into the back of her thigh so hard all that gently-stroked flesh is too stupid to feel the hurt right away. It comes to her quickly, though. She bites back another sound, something more vulnerable.

He watches her, then leans in beside her ear. “You put your foot on a stack of bibles in a church,” he whispers to her, every syllable touching his teeth the way she wishes he would touch her. “And you spread your legs like you think someone wants to see your mess.” He makes the most derisive, delicious noise, and her eyes roll so far back into her head it nearly hurts. More words, more words, please...

He takes her by the chin again, and when he lets go of her leg she knows she needs to keep it exactly where it was, no matter how precarious this makes her balance, while his hand comes up to slap her face. “You don’t tell me one wretched thing, slut,” he enunciates carefully. She did not even realize her thoughts had become words. She quickly tries to apologize and he slaps her other cheek.

“Shut up,” he says, syrup sweet, and slides his hand back under her thigh. It’s the exact tone of a bully. She shuts up. She shudders, too, from the way it seeps into her and makes her warm all over.

He lets go of her chin and pulls the front of her underwear into his fist. He keeps pulling until the soft, well-laundered muslin digs at the back of her hips and her sex at the same time, right up against the tender flesh of her holes, and makes her yelp. He must have measured his strength exactly, she hears the snap of two threads but the fabric holds. He could rip it from her with ease. Why is he not doing that? He gives the muslin just a little slack, then pulls it even tighter and she feels like a marionette, all her limbs out of her own control. Were it not for her hands on the back of the pew, she would be a mess on the floor instead of a mess barely standing

Faust growls, “Be still, sinner-- and keep this leg up-- or I’ll make it so much worse.”

She keeps the leg up without his hand beneath it. She will never again doubt the existence of miracles.

He pulls the soaked fabric aside, pulls back his newly freed hand, and slaps her right on her slit without any preamble. The shock of the hit is gold and white-blue behind her eyes, and her sob is ugly, an animal’s sound in a place meant for prayerful people. He says nothing as she whimpers through the hurt of every little ripple of post-pain, the way the tingles stay focused on the flesh that took the hit. It feels like a scorch on both sides of her sex that she cannot escape; how appropriate that inescapable he put that feeling on her, in her.

Belatedly she realizes that she did stay still, and that calms her spirit, strokes her in time with his thumbs on the inside of each thigh. High like heaven. Soft as a dream. He may even be shushing her tenderly instead of telling her to be silent, but she is so delirious she cannot be sure. She can feel the way she is even more wet, because the slickness makes the burn better. Not in a healing way, in a way that clarifies the precious, god-given sharpness he provides. She is sinful and filthy and so far below worthy of his touch, but he does touch her, he talks to her and touches her, and when Faust does those things she feels very holy. There is a silence in her soul that makes it a little easier to ignore the way her body is screaming from pain and desperate want.

The slap hurts. It takes her a long time to come down from the pain and the heat. But when she is silent, he sneers and stops stroking her thighs, and then he does it again.

#ikevamp faust #ikevam faust #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevam fanfiction #dt nonny (bless you)#WHEW OKAY i do not smoke but I may need to go chew some gum

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

A Sea of Stars

The modified plane of the Gear Department landed heavily on the sandy airstrip in the pitch black of night. It was only EVAs guidance that told them where to land. This airstrip used to be an official landing area of the military but now was recorded in only a few satellite images and no longer maintained. The runway was so short, the plane practically had to slow and drop onto the strip and brake hard, pressing the passengers forcefully into their seatbelts. Tigre, unable to cope with the force of it, buried his face in the paper bag and puked.

Mingfei patted his back in sympathy. “Hey, take your time, we’ve got some cargo to unload anyway.”

In a few moments, Mingfei stood on the landing strip and waved. The cargo bay opened and hit the ground, sending up a plume of dust. A massive truck rolled backwards onto the tarmac. The cargo area of the truck was covered in sand colored cloth. It rolled on tank treads, specially made for the rough desert environment. Once the truck was off the plane, Mingfei climbed into the back and started taking stock. Celeste followed him inside.

She was the one who seemed to take the most initiative, and the other girls fell in line behind her, so he wasn’t surprised she came in with him.

“Don’t worry, my sisters are watching over Tigre while we’re here.” She looked over the crates stacked in the back of the truck.

“This is actually mostly water. The high temperature of the desert right now is about 116 degrees during the heat of the day. We can travel until about 9 am and then it’s best to hunker down and stay hydrated until about midnight. There’s also medical supplies. The rest is weapons, including thermite bombs that we’ll use against any dragon nest we find.” Lu Mingfei explained,

“This must be just like regular work to you huh?” Celeste lifted a tarp over a large crate, revealing heavy rifles.

“Sad to say... I don’t really get excited about it any more.” Lu Mingfei said, checking inventory on a clipboard. “I’ve... lost a lot of friends. I’ll try not to lose any of you guys. If it’s too dangerous, we turn back. Understand?”

Celeste eyed him for a long time. “Yes sir.”

When they stepped back out of the truck, Tigre had deplaned and seemingly completely recovered from his motion sickness. He was standing out in the open, looking up at the sky. The milky way was on full display cutting a ribbon through thousands of stars. The stars were like a massive glowing cloud that filled the entire sky. They swarmed the darkness over head like many bright bees.

Celeste walked over to him. “Don’t start singing!” She barked, breaking the silence.

“I know... I know.” Tigre lowered his head and sobbed softly into his arm.

Lu Mingfei stood there awkwardly with his clipboard, unsure about what to do with Tigre’s strange outburst of emotion. He had been hoping to have some sort of official meeting about desert safety and have some sort of plan. Surely Caesar would know what to say at a time like this and Chu Zihang would simply ignore what was happening and leave everyone behind.

Fortunately, Ruby patted Tigre’s shoulder. “It’s a beautiful sight isn’t it?”

“Yes. I saw it in my dream.” Tigre managed to say. “I can’t believe it’s actually real.

“What’s real?” Celeste’s hand moved to her side, to her pistol holding the Frigga bullets.

“When I took the test, I ran through a bright door until I was surrounded by stars just like this. And then when I was there, I heard the dragon voices, roaring and then singing.” He wiped his face with his sleeve and managed to regain his composure. “I want to sing so much. Maybe if I do they’ll answer.”

The plane turned and started taxiing away to take off.

“We should get going to get into position before the sun rises.” Mingfei said softly. “I’ll drive, Tigre, come sit with me in the passenger side. Ruby, Celeste, Porsche, get what rest you can in the back.”

Tigre had no issues climbing into the large truck. The engine rumbled to life as the plane fired up its engines and the twin roars struck Tigre’s heart like a bell of recognition. He raised one hand to his chest, watching the plane rise into that black sky and recalling his dream.

“Listen. Hey.” Mingfei looked at him with worry. “I know you’re excited but no matter what I need you to stay calm and in control. Your life may depend on it. I mean it. If you feel like you’re losing control of yourself, let me know. I’ll put you to sleep.”

“Alright.” Tigre nodded gravely and then gave a snappy salute.

Mingfei pointed to his eyes. “Those are contacts right?”

Tigre froze. “How did you know?”

Mingfei shrugged, not telling him he’d visited him earlier. It’s clear he didn’t remember the encounter. “You can take them off around me. Golden eyes don’t bother me.”

Tigre’s eyes widened slightly. “But... what if...”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one will see you.” He glanced at him as the truck started its rumbling trek, leaving rectangular tracks in the moonscape.

Tigre lowered his face and removed his contacts in front of Mingfei Lu. They were just are reptilian as he imagined and they glowed brightly like the stars he admired. Mingfei looked directly into his eyes. “You don’t scare me. In fact, I have a higher dragonblood purity than even yours. I’m a step higher in the hierarchy. I can feel it. You’re different and you’re strong... but your lineage... is not as strong as mine. So if things get hard. Just leave it to me. Alright?”

“Okay...” Tigre stared straight ahead, rocking with the truck.

Mingfei picked up a handset with a coiled cord. “Okay can you guys hear me in the back?”

A speaker over head conveyed the girl’s voices. “Yes!”

“We’re headed towards a passage way in the desert that’s locally known as the Death Road. No one who takes this route ever comes out the other end. They just disappear. So when we’re getting close to the danger zone, I’ll stop, survey the area and plan our attack. Whatever is in there is active and it’s deadly. But we’re deadlier, because we’re from Cassell. Alright?”

“Yes sir!”

Mingfei glanced at the handset. “Hey... that sounded kind of cool.”

A chorus of giggles told him that he’d forgotten to mute the headset and the girls heard him congratulate himself. He blushed. “I mean, over and out!” He put one hand over his face and then muted the hand set.

Tigre nodded. “It was cool.”

“Thanks. I’m nothing compared to my seniors though. They were the coolest people on the planet...”

Tigre chuckled to himself. “I think you’re pretty cool. After all, you’re not scared of me. Celeste is very scared.” His smile vanished. “She doesn’t want me to sing. She’s afraid I will hurt her and her sisters.”

“You’re fine, you’re fine! Just stay close to me okay. I’ll take care of you.”

Tigre nodded and leaned against the window.

#Dragon Raja #Tigre

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Can you imagine Chris with a fever? Trying to tell jake he doesn’t feel well, he wants to be held, but the high fever only makes it harder to talk? Everyone in the safe house crowded around, desperate to cool him down bc they can go to a hospital?

CW: Feverish, sickness, mentions of symptoms of sickness + references to past noncon/dubcon, plus fucky thought processes around that. Vague references to past torture.

Timeline: Chris’s first week at the shelter.

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump

His bones hurt, but he keeps that to himself. It's just bones, after all, and he's had way more of him hurt much worse than this.

At least, it starts with bones, just in his upper arms and in his thighs, and he thinks maybe it’s because he is always tense in this strange new place. The house seems small compared to Sir’s mansion but he is allowed to move around all of it, not just one hallway of rooms.

This makes him nervous but he does, anyway, padding silent and still as a mouse around the hallways and down the stairs at night, searching for signs that this will be a life he understands.

He finds none.

There is no basement, or if there is, they don’t show him. He doesn’t know what happened, exactly - there was a night where Sir had a party, and then he was put in a car and then another car and then there was this new place, these new people.

No, at first it’s really just his thighs, an ache buried so deep under the skin that no amount of rubbing against it seems to work it out. After that, his arms start to hurt, and then down his calves, and finally it settles in at his hips like two hands are gripped on tight. The ache is familiar, a memory of a life he doesn’t have to live any longer.

They tell him he doesn’t, anyway.

They tell him he doesn’t have to do that, here, but there are two men and three women and he thinks maybe eventually he will have to be good. He’s not trained for women but it can’t be that different, can it? He tries not to think about it very much, and hopes if he just stays quiet, and still, and holds his hands in little stone fists at his sides that no one will notice him.

If they don’t notice him, they won’t ask, and he won’t have to, even though he kind of wants to, but also he doesn’t, and he can’t remember if he ever really did or if it was always a voice inside him that someone put there on purpose to make him like this.

He wants to be held but he is scared of what it means, because it’s never just holding. It always means having to be good. Maybe not right away, but always, sooner or later.

Does he actually want to be held? Or did they do that to him, with all the time he spent alone, praying someone would open the door to the white room?

He wants someone to hold him while he feels like this, but… his bones hurt too much for what happens after the holding, and he feels so cold, like being back in the white rooms that have all blurred together.

Once all the other hurts are joined by a strange, pounding headache that won’t lift, a weight like his brain is solidifying inside his skull, the boy takes a big soft blanket right off the bed of the larger man who lives here and finds a place to hide.

They're all downstairs, the other people here.

There’s a storage room at the end of the hallway where all the bedrooms are, and the door isn’t locked - at Sir’s all the doors are locked except the rooms he’s allowed in, so that must mean he’s allowed in here.

He’s having trouble walking, there’s a dizzy lilt to his footsteps and he seems to keep bumping into the wall even though he thought he was walking straight. He trips on the blanket as it trails the floor, over and over again. Somehow it never occurs to him to pick the blanket up.

The door looks wrong, for reasons he can't explain. The boy gets briefly lost in the swirl of the woodgrain, staring at what looks like another set of wood-eyes, frozen in surprise, staring right back.

He has to blink again and again and again to get the wood-eyes to fade away.

They are laughing at something downstairs and the sound makes the boy nervous - Sir laughing usually meant things Sir thought were good, and the boy had to be good but he never thought they were good. He has to hide, or they'll see his wobbly legs and play games with him.

Sir likes games, when the boy is tired or sick from the pills or sad. The boy doesn't want to play games, here. They have said they won't hurt him but games don't always hurt the outside.

He gets the doorknob to turn after three tries, slips into the little storage room, and sees the perfect hiding spot.

There’s a huge wooden desk shoved up against one wall, stacked high with what looks like photo albums, folders stuffed until they’re bursting, loose stacks of paper, brochures and flyers, plus old books and all kinds of things.

On top of one stack of flyers, there an ancient stuffed puppydog, with floppy arms and legs and floppy ears and a strange bronze yellow no-color fur, threadbare in patches where someone loved it, once. The boy could almost see the way a child must have petted along the back, wearing it to nothing bit by bit, day by day.

Something about the sight of it makes the boy's throat want to tighten and close. He doesn't know what or why - he's never had a stuffed animal, all he remembers is the white walls and the cold and then the warmth of Sir burning him alive.

He takes a sudden breath, shivering as cold snaps through his body, his muscles contracting like aftershocks from training, chills that roll through him, bounce around inside his skin.

The desk is like Sir's and not like that at all. He doesn't want the desk - he wants the hollow spot in the center under it. It feels safe and familiar, sliding to his knees under a wooden desk, Position Two, effortless as breathing. Tip his head up, chin at rest on Sir's knee, waiting. Making his thoughts stutter-skip to a stop until all his mind is a vast and empty place he never looks too far into.

He is not empty, now.

The boy does not feel empty at all. Instead he feels too much. He feels the strangely rough carpet under his knees, hard floor through the soft fabric of the pants they gave him to wear. He thinks of the stuffed puppy alone in the room - is he lonely in here? nobody to rub his fur all to gone any longer-

"'Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse." The voice in his mind is soothing and soft. It is a woman's voice but he doesn't know who it belongs to. He knows there was a book, can almost feel the texture of the cover, slippery-smooth, the shine as it caught the dim, yellowed light. He can feel the warmth of a soft arm around him, a hand ruffling into his hair as chubby fingers tap on his own legs, feet swinging off the side of a tiny toddler bed. "'It's a thing that happens to you.'"

His headache gets worse all at once, a thunderclap of pain, and the boy whimpers and pushes himself until his back is against the other side of the desk, curling knees to his chest with the blanket wrapped around himself.

The chills roll through, his fingers shaking too hard to do anything but hold onto himself and hope it will stop. Teeth chatter, clattering together like someone is playing dice inside his mouth, and his tongue feels like leaden weight in there, too large for the space.

Under the desk it is dark, no light in the room but a clouded sense of sunlight finding its way through off-white blinds, covered in dust, cutting stripes of yellow over the opposite wall.

The boy sees tiny dust particles in the air, floating. Dancing. His eyes follow them, and he almost smiles. Sir used to leave him alone for hours and hours locked in the room or the basement with nothing, but there was no such thing as nothing when your brain could follow specks of dust…

He feels no warmer, even as he sits under the blanket. The cold is too deep in him, settling into his bones alongside the pain, which has sharpened, gone from dull sawing to a sharpened blade. He whimpers, curling up even tighter.

Even now, he has hurt worse than this, and for worse reasons. He knows how to stay still, has learned to keep his palms pressed flat against his stomach to stop himself from tapping, to let the lead weights roll around inside his head to keep himself from hitting it on anything to calm down. Silence is better than screaming.

He learned his lesson. Sir may have given him up, but the boy has not forgotten.

Footsteps move in the hallway, and the boy does not look - does not try to peek out the door and see. Now that he has curled up so tightly, he's not sure he could uncurl. His legs feel locked tightly, every muscle tensed around his hurting bones.

Where is he? The woman's voice, the older one. The one he thought must be the owner of this household and all its pets. He's not in his room.

He is not in the bathroom, a male voice says, the slightest, barest hint of an accent to it.

I hope he didn't run away. A girl voice. The boy shivers.

He's not Kauri, a second girl voice says. He won't just run without saying anything. He's scared, he probably found a crawlspace or something.

A crawlspace, the first girl repeats, a little plaintively. She repeats things a lot, the boy has noticed.

We should keep looking. The man, the one he thinks must be the Sir. But he doesn't act like one.

The boy tucks himself back into the corner of the spot under the desk, closing his eyes as they just don't want to be open any longer.

He wants his Sir, suddenly, so badly it burns under all the chill, like holding a piece of ice to your skin so long that the cells forget they feel cold. Sir would hold him tightly, would wrap him up or give him lukewarm baths or just hold him, in his lap, whispering things into his ear. Reading aloud the news reports, the new poll numbers. Speaking with his friend Mr. Alexander who is like me, in a lot of ways that go beyond just our career aspirations, darlin'.

Sir would make him feel better, even if it felt awful all the same.

A different awful. He would trade that awful, now, if he could. At least Sir's did not live so far under his skin, was only in those first few layers he could scrub away if he stayed in the shower long enough. This kind wouldn’t come out, only burrowed deeper and deeper.

He falls asleep - or into something like sleep, anyway - there under the desk, like he has on many afternoons, lulled to boredom by long days where he isn’t allowed to move or feel or think. It’s not the same desk and there is no one to nudge him awake with a perfectly shining leather shoe.

The boy dreams uneasy dreams of vast bedrooms swathed in navy silk and uncertain worn-out fabric creatures with threadbare patches are peeking from behind the drapes, beckoning to him to come closer and hear what they have to say. Only he can’t move, because the sheets are wrapped too tightly around his wrists. They hold him to the bed or the wall, he can’t think of where he is, lying down and standing up all at once. He has to hear what they want to tell him.

He’s too far away, and they are whispering.

Real isn’t how you are made, said the Skin Horse. It’s a thing that happens to you.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up-

“Hey.” There’s a hand on his shoulder and the boy jerks awake with a gasp, flinching back so hard his head smacks back into the back of the desk. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t, uh, you were talking and I thought maybe you were already up. Hey, are you okay?”

The boy stares, wide-eyed, at the man he thinks is the Sir of this house. He’s younger, but the others except for the older woman all do what he asks them to do. He has blond hair and blue eyes and he’s so tall the boy has to crane and crane his head to look up at him sometimes. He swallows, as he shivers all over again. “My… bones… hurt.”

His voice is slow, evenly paced, a little hoarse. He sounds like he’s been screaming, but he hasn’t. When he swallows, his throat hurts, like swallowing glass. He winces and puts a had up to feel at the outside. His throat feels odd on either side, just under his jaw. Sort of lumpy.

“Your bones hurt? What the fuck-... hey, come out so I can see you a little better, okay? Come on, man.” The man grips onto his hands, and the man’s fingers are big and warm and the boy moves almost helplessly towards the solidity and warmth that those hands represent.

His mind is a woozy swirl of trains, careening back and forth, his eyes drifting over dancing bits of dust and the piles of papers everywhere and old broken computer chairs, that one’s padded, should have slept there, he hears a robin call outside and fights the urge to purse his lips and whistle back.

When he is out into the dim light in the room, the man’s eyes trail over his face. The boy feels the weight of the look, and thinks he might blush, but his face felt hot before, too, even though the rest of his body feels like it’s carved from blocks of very pretty ice.

He’s much nicer-looking than Sir is, the man. Younger, too, and something about him doesn’t seem uncomfortable and strange, but instead open and genuine. The boy can almost read him, and he never knew what Sir was thinking. But in the look on the man’s face, he thinks he can read a simple concern.

“You look like shit,” The man says - he said his name was Jake, right? - and reaches out to touch the boy’s face. “Oooh, you feel like shit, too. Clammy as hell.”

Is he clammy? The boy hasn’t noticed. He feels too cold for sweat, everywhere but his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

The man’s fingers prod just under his jaw, and the boy winces and whimpers when he hits the swollen little circles that seem to have stuck up from his skin there.

“Yep. Your lymph nodes are all fucked up. One more thing, okay? Just here. Right here, and nowhere else.” The man slowly lays a cool hand to his forehead. The boy’s eyes flutter closed at the simple, comforting, soothing touch.

I could be good for him. The thought is brief, there and then gone, carried further down the track with other thoughts he tries not to linger on.

“Well, I have a diagnosis,” Jake says, sitting back on his heels. “You’re sick as fuck. Come on, we need to get you into an actual bed. And I need to tell Nat you didn’t wander off, she’s losing her shit downstairs about it. Were you scared?” His voice dips down into something soft. It’s a voice the boy wants to fall into. It’s kind of like the voice that belonged to the warm arm around him, in his dreams.

The boy shakes his head. You’re not supposed to admit you’re scared unless they want you to, and he doesn’t think this man wants him to.

He lets the man pull him to his feet. Jake notices the boy’s hands pressed still against his stomach and asks if he needs to throw up, but he shakes his head - he doesn’t, he just doesn’t want to get in trouble. When he can’t keep his hands still, he is punished.

“Then why were you in here?”

The boy doesn’t speak. He can feel his tongue in his mouth, every one of his teeth. He might speak too quickly, stumble over himself. Silence is better than stammering. He only shrugs, a movement of thin shoulders under the heavy, soft blanket he wears.

“Okay, fair enough. Come on, let’s get you laid down and get some Tylenol in you.”

He doesn’t remember what Tylenol is, and lets himself be led, shivering and chattering teeth, laid down in the little bed in the room where the other Box Boy sleeps. There is a framed drawing of a bird above the bed he sleeps in, and he looks up at it, feeling dazed by all the colors that want to bleed right out and down the wall and maybe he could get some color in his skin if he catches the paint…

The man is gone, for a few minutes. There are talking-sounds downstairs but the boy can’t understand them. Too muffled or too loud or too something. He gets lost in the bird.

“Here we go.” Jake reappears and gives him a cup of water as he pushes himself up to his elbow and he drinks it obediently, sipping. It’s cool and clean-tasting on his tongue. Then Jake holds out a little cup with a purple liquid in it and the boy stares down, then back up at him. “It’s… not Tylenol. Nat said her contact told her you were drugged, so I figured… maybe no pills?”

The boy shakes, all at once, a full-body shudder that wracks his tensed-up muscles and makes them burn around his bones. He bends himself nearly in half, shaking his head, again and again. “No… no pill, please,” He whispers, barely able to form the words. “Please, please, please-please no, no, no no no no-”

“It’s okay,” Jake says quickly. “No pill. So this is, um, this is like a liquid fever reducer. We keep it for the rescues who can’t… can’t swallow pills. Okay? Just drink it down and you’ll feel better, I promise.”

It could be just like the pills. The boy hesitates, looking up into the man’s eyes. Something in them seems like he can be trusted to tell the truth, and after a long hesitation, the boy takes the tiny plastic cup from his hands and drinks the sticky fake-grape taste down, wrinkling his nose. It clings to his teeth and his tongue, and he washes it away with more water from the glass.

“Perfect. I had to guess on dosage, but that should be okay… Will you stay in the room, if I go?” The question is there, underneath the words - the boy can read them just fine. Are you going to hide under the desk again?

“I don’t… want to… be alone.” He has to carefully space words. He has to be good, that way. He didn’t understand yet what everyone here wanted.

“Is that how you really feel, or what you’re saying because you think it’s what I want?” The man asks, his voice still soft, and gentle. “You won’t be in trouble no matter what you say.”

The boy doesn’t know how to answer this - no one ever asks him his wants. What he wants isn’t important, it’s not relevant. He grips the blanket in his fingers and twists the fabric, quilted and so soft it feels like it will float away from him. He stares down into his lap and says nothing, only shaking his head, not quite a yes and not quite a no.

“I’m… very cold,” He offers, finally, in a small voice, when the man doesn’t say anything right away. “And my… bones hurt.”

“Right, you said, your bones-... must be something to do with the fever, maybe? Something… look, lay down and I’ll get you all covered up, there are some more blankets in that storage room you were hiding in. I’m surprised you didn’t just make a nest.”

The boy hadn’t noticed the other blankets then. If he had… he might have. He lets himself be laid on his back, looking up, watching the dust spin and move and dance, as the man leaves the room once more. He hears footsteps in the hall, lighter ones, and looks to catch a glimpse of a swinging ponytail and a heavy sweatshirt and sweatpants. The girl doesn’t look at him. She goes into her own room and shuts the door.

Jake comes back with a heap of folded blankets. “You’ll shove these off once your fever breaks, but they might make you feel a little better while we wait. Oh, and I saw this in there!”

He holds up the stuffed puppy, with beady black eyes barely hanging on from old thread, the little bare patches on the rump part, where somebody petted off all its fur.

His throat closes again. He doesn’t know why looking at the dog makes him feel that way.

“Thank… you,” He says, and holds out his hands like a child, and the man drops the puppy into his arms. The boy makes a sound and rolls onto his side, letting the man cover him in blankets, tuck them in around him, with the puppy’s head tucked securely under his chin.

He feels… better.

“There you go,” Jake says, running a hand across his forehead, pushing some hair away from his eyes. “There you go. That’s better. I’ll leave you to get some sleep. Pretty sure you haven’t slept since you got here, huh? You should think about what name you want, while you sleep.”

“Sir chooses my, my, my name,” The boy says, already starting to drift, forgetting to space out his words, his thoughts. They start to run again on their natural tracks, splitting into a thousand different focuses at once. He thinks about the birds outside and the ones in his wall and the feel of the stuffed animal in his arms, surprisingly solid for its age, heavier than he thought it’d be. He thinks about his dream and how to keep waking up.

“Not here, he doesn’t,” The man says, voice firm, almost commanding. “Your name’s all you, man. Just tell us when you decide, okay?”

“Okay,” The boy whispers, and thinks about a warm arm around him, a woman’s low voice reading him a story with a deliberate, spaced-out rhythm.

In the great green room there was a telephone and a red balloon and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon

Maybe they read him a story in training. He can’t remember. But he thinks he was too small for that. Someone else, maybe, once.

He winces as his head starts to ache and chases the thought away, sends it rolling down its track to where all the other thoughts stay that make him hurt.

“I’ll come back to check on you in a few. Just… stay in the bed and get some rest.”

“Okay,” he says again, and his eyes have gone too heavy to open, his grip iron-tight on the stuffed puppy in his arms. He’s too old for stuffed animals - I’m eighteen, all pets are of legal consenting age - but he feels good holding it, anyway.

“Once you are real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.” Do you know what that means, T-

“Chris,” He says, without opening his eyes. He hears Jake stop in the doorway, turn to look at him. “I like Chris.”

“Chris it is, then,” Jake replies, sounding pleased. “That’s a good one. I’ll tell Nat. Get some sleep and feel better, Chris. That’s a solid name. I like that name on you.”

Chris waits until he hears the door close, and the sound of the man’s footsteps on the stairs, before he smiles.

I like that name on you.

He likes it, too.

Chris feels like a person. Chris feels real.

The boy falls asleep in the bed in a new place and with new people and for the first time since he got here, he falls asleep without feeling scared of what he’ll see behind his closed eyes. Baldur is scared, and the number boy was scared, but Chris, he decides, is going to live in a totally different way.

Chris is going to be real, and not be scared of anything.

Just as soon as he isn’t sick.

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whumpiary · 4 years

Text

whumptober 2020 | day 1: let’s hang out sometime

[content warning: discussed past self harm, referenced past abuse, mild dissociation/depersonalisation, intimate whumper]

There's something harrowing — gut-wrenching — about seeing a grown man cry. It's almost painful. Just watching someone with utter poise and dignity let it slide and crash because they don't care anymore who sees them crumble.

It's enough to make the one watching crumble a little, too. Just a little. It doesn't even matter what it is that they're crying over. A loved one in a hospital bed. A job that came to an end too quickly. A lost pet. Some spilled milk.

A boy strung up in the middle of their parlour, hands high above his head, barely standing where he's chained.

Christopher sobs silently, one hand clamped over his mouth as the other grips the edge of the desk he’s leaning against like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. He had started tearing up as soon as he’d started taking away Cass’ clothing: a soft little gasp as he caught sight of the first scar, and then growing grief as more skin was exposed.

The first sob took the man over as the last scrap of clothing fell away and he’s been braced against the desk since. Shoulders softly shaking, eyes squeezed shut. As though he can barely stand to look at the boy in front of him without being overcome.

Cassius is cold. He registers it dimly. Distantly. This body, right now, isn’t his own. His senses seem to know that, relaying everything from a distance. Like hearing the radio from someone else’s car. Like watching the TV in the reflection of a window.

The cuffs around his wrists cut in and his calves are starting to burn and his lungs ache from breathing against stretched out ribs and he also doesn’t care about any of it. He’s back here again. A whole new cycle that he always knew, not so far below the surface. And every scar across his body is a road map of a world that Cass already feels like he never escaped to to begin with.

Christopher brings his hand to Cassius’ cheek and as though on muscle memory, Cass leans into it.

“My darling boy,” the older man whispers. His eyes are tear-filled still, searching Cass’ own desperately, as though for some sort of answer. Cass has none. “My darling, darling boy. What have they done to you?”

Cass holds Christopher’s gaze and for a moment wants to share with the man the entire history of the last few years. Every secret. Every truth. Give them up. Give them over. Undo. But he feels muzzled. Gagged. Like his lips are sewn shut.

There’s nothing to say. There’s everything to tell.

“I’m so sorry, Cassius,” Christopher says. His hand skirts over the scar near his shoulder, the one down his arm, the one at his ribs. Like a fucked up dot to dot. “I’m so sorry. If I had known… My god, darling boy, if I had known…”

Cass nearly laughs at that. He would have what? Bought the company just to win his contract back? Stolen him away? Killed Tucker with his bare hands? Or would he have shaken the man’s hand and given him a bonus? Asked to sit in for the next blood letting?

Christopher starts with the obvious.

“This one,” he says, pads of his fingers tracing the gnarled, raised scar along Cassius’ ribs. “Tell me about this one.”

“Got stabbed,” Cass mumbles. His mouth feels full of cotton wool. “Job went wrong. About a year in. Maybe later. Can't remember. Had to have surgery.”

Christopher sucks in a breath, deep and shuddering, covering his mouth on the exhale as another silent tear slides down his cheek. He brushes his cheek dry again with his knuckles and takes another breath to calm himself, lowering his head. For a moment, his hand sits heavy on Cassius’ hip, as though he needed it to steady himself. Cass rocks back on the balls of his feet just barely and the man’s grip seems to tighten in kind, keeping him still and close.

They stay just like that for a moment until Christopher manages to collect himself, fingers pressing to the bridge of his nose, drying his eyes with a sniff. He drops his hand from his face to trace the scar again, breath stuttering. Cass feels seasick with the the touch. A dragging back of forth over scar-tissue he can’t quite feel properly.

“The scarring is terrible,” Christopher says.

Cass closes his eyes for a moment. If he imagines enough, the cool, dry hands are warm and steady instead. They’re firm and sure instead of claiming and caressing. They’re pulling him back together, stitch by stitch. The memory is such a sacred indulgence, he has to shake his head a little to clear it again.

“Yeah, they... fucked the stitches,” he says, voice croaked. “Had to get it redone.”

Another shaking breath. Another sniff. Cass keeps his eyes lowered. He doesn’t need to see the grief.

“Well that surgeon deserves to be fired.”

They go on like that. Christopher touching each scar, having him name and catalogue them, one after the other.

The thin one over his bottom lip. “Bar fight.”

The short thick one at his collarbone. “Lab test.”

The nick up by his brow. “Beat down.”

The curving long one down his arm. “Don’t remember.”

There are a few like that. More than he’d have expected. The burn on his arm. The glossy skin on his knuckles. The twisted one at his knee. Don’t remember. Don’t remember. Don’t remember.

And Christopher in between, mourning each one. Touching them, pressing his hand to them as though he could will the scars healed with his grief. Christopher has to keeping taking breaks for more tears and sobs. Like over, and over again he’s realising what he’s lost. Of what he once had. What he’ll never have back.

“My God, what have they done to you, darling boy?” He whispers it over and over again and over again. “You were so beautiful. So perfect. What have they done to you? What have they done?”

It takes them a while to retrace every new mark on him since Christopher has seen him last. The man is methodical and thorough. Scrupulous. Cass is almost startled by how many he finds. More than Cass would’ve discovered on his own, he’s sure. By the time they get to the last few, Cass can’t feel his hands.

“I’m so sorry, my love, I know you’re tired,” Christopher says with a kiss to the cheek, a hand cupping his jaw. His eyes are filled with sympathy and apology. As though he isn’t the one who’s doing this. As though this is some necessary procedure instead of his own predilection. “We’re nearly done. Last ones.”

Christopher holds Cassius’ gaze as his hand drifts low, skirting a decent gathering of little scars at his hip, over his thigh. They’re smaller, these ones. Harder to see. Only a shade or so lighter than his skin these days but piece by piece, bit by bit, they stack up, start to look noticeable. Little fine nicks and cross hatches, some raised, some flat, all faded.

“These ones here. The lab again?”

Cass drops his eyes. He stares at them for a beat, stares at what he can see beneath the man’s hand anyway, before looking back to Christopher.

“No,” he says. He feels a thrill to say it. “Me.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Excuse me?”

“I did those ones myself.”

A beat. “I thought we broke you of that little habit.”

And they had. For a while. – You’ll be hurt on my terms or not at all. – But Christopher should’ve known it would be one of the first things to resurface once he was out of reach. Why shouldn’t it be?

Cass smiles at the older man, eyes dead. “If it helps, I thought of you every fucking time.”

Which isn’t true entirely but shit does it feel good to say it.

The slap that flies hard and brutal across his cheek feels good too.

“Don’t you do that to me,” Christopher says, after a moment. His voice is soft and quiet and sad. Shaking with what was maybe a little anger. Funny. It was rare to see Christopher show that card. “I’m hurting badly enough today, I don’t need your cruelty on top of it.”

Cass keeps his head turned, staring at the arm of the leather rancher’s sofa beside him. His cheek burns, hot and tingling with the blood rush, as Christopher’s hand trails up and to his shoulder. As the man steps behind him, both palms pressing at his shoulder blades. At his back.

“And these?” he says. Cass’ eyes shutter closed, breath all at once catching high in his chest. Christopher’s been saving these, he knows. The crosses and lines on his back. One after the other after the other after the other.

Cass can’t answer to these. He can’t say. Can’t bear to. And, by some virtue of generosity, by some kind of twisted, fucked up grace, Christopher doesn’t make him. “He gave these to you?”

It takes him another minute. A long, hard minute of trying to breathe. Christopher allows him the mercy of the hesitation. And then, shakily, he nods his head.

Christopher sucks in a shaky breath as his palm presses to the scarring and Cass can tell he’s crying all over again. The sob shakes down Christopher’s arm, into his hand and hits like a jolt of electricity through Cass’ spine. It feels like it shakes his

“My God. This is cruelty. This is… this is cruelty.”

And Cass could laugh at that. He really could. After everything, everything this man has done. After everything he’s put his head through and his heart through and his body. This is cruelty, is it? Finally, this is cruelty.

Nah, it’s not cruelty. He wants to say. Penance.

He’s glad the words don’t actually make it past his lips.

Christopher’s hand runs across them over and over, again and again, and the feeling is so strange, so tender, so violating that Cass finds himself pressing his face against his arm and screwing his eyes shut, as though to hide. Skin then scar then skin then scar. Numbed then felt. Hot then cold.

Every trace of the crosses feel like he’s being stripped bare. As though with every caress, Christopher is peeling away a layer of numbness, a layer of armour, an exoskeleton. The world is like a burning thing without it all.

Cass hangs his head, arms still stretched up and aching, and he sobs, voice pulling out of him in a broken whisper. “Please stop.”

The plea seems to bring Christopher to the surface of whatever grief laden fascination he’s lost in and the man circles in front of him, hand cupping his cheek, thumb catching the tear that slides down it. Christopher’s tears mirror Cassius’ own as the man presses their foreheads together and Cass is sure they look a lovely picture of grief.

Shared martyrdom. Saint and saviour.

Maybe the man should have crucified him instead.

“I’m so sorry, Cassius,” Christopher whispers again, and Cass cringes and cries and keeps his eyes shut. “If I had known… I promise you, if I had known…”

It’s a mercy beyond measure that the man never finishes the sentence.

#whumptober2020 #no.1 #let's hang out sometime #oc #fic #self harm tw #dissociation tw #referenced abuse tw #cassius #christopher #return to whumper #possessive whumper #intimate whumper #nell does whumptober

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weirdo-with-a-nametag · 3 years

Text

Brain is tv static with random frames interspersed

Think I'm like. Really stressed and jumping between topics to try and find something that helps / feels good

Topics:

Anyone know a good health tracking app for adhd people? I want one that like pops up when you open your phone, maybe? But is unobtrusive. Like maybe you just rate your mood or whatever when you open your phone, and it closes, and you go about your business. I just hate every app and paper method I've tried but really want to track some stuff

Pigeon. ? Pigeon as pet?

Service animals re: cats, pigeons, my cat specifically, and then also ESAs and also what to use as treats while training my cat (he's pretty happy to learn behaviors with praise and pets as reinforcement, but treats would make everything move much faster, but I haven't found something I want to give him so we've just been y'know. Chillin)

Service animals re: what tasks can my pet potentially do that would help me? I don't really know a lot about service animals and there is a Huge range. If anyone has suggestions, or places to read about it, I'd appreciate it! Mostly thinking they may help with anxiety, sensory, and mobility/fatigue related stuff. Not much of a need for medical alerts.

Bioactive enclosures for my snakes, need to research their biomes and make progress on designs and equipment specifications

Also. Hit a seriously hard patch and haven't been handling them much at all this month so that's not great

Casting stuff. Saw jewelry today made of metal casts of claws, skulls, etc, and they were really well done and made me want to do that

Some taxidermy / vulture culture stuff I won't get into right now

Puzzles????

How to organize my room

Need a shower

Need to organize bathroom

So Much Schoolwork

Uhhhhh trying, but not making much headway, to figure out how I want to do my music collection. Also really need to clean my records..

Make?

Food??? Ew.

Dental hygiene ://

Plampts. So many. Houseplants need maintenance, many need repotting. Keep taking in people's problem plants and like, they're doing better, largely, after being trimmed and watered and whatnot, but need repotting. Also need to trim some aquarium plants.

Also need to put water in tanks. And spray nepenthes.

Laundry.

Gotta pick up trash in my room. There's so much. Everywhere. Why.

Schoolwork. I'm so behind. So, so stuck. Kind of feel like I'm dying.

Going on a picnic tomorrow. Have to figure out what still needs doing for that, probably need to go to the store.

Leo needs water. I'm so....ugh, I'm trying so hard, but it feels impossible. I do my best to take good care of my pets, and I think they live pretty good lives most of the time, but sometimes I get like This and completely drop off the face of the earth and then like, wake up or whatever and two weeks have passed by and I have not cleaned a water bowl! That's a serious problem!!!! I do not know how to combat that, really, besides more reminders. Having someone around who is willing to like, help, when things are especially hard, would be great, but I don't live with my partner right now and do not feel like I can ask anyone here for that. But I can't put my animals at risk. I check on them every day, and if their bowls are dirty I do take them out and clean them, but sometimes (like now) i cannot get myself to do it without a pressure like a dirty bowl, or a feeding day. And like, it's really important that they have clean water. I'm talking to myself here but like, if anyone has advice. Please. With the tank redesigns and upgrades, the bowls will be more accessible, which will help because one of them is very heavy at the angle I have to pick it up, and another requires moving a lot of branches and is best to take out while the snake is out (this is Leo) which is fine because I love my boy, but adds time to the process, and makes it harder to start, you know? Maybe if I just got more bowls - I could take the bowl out and immediately replace it, fill the new one, and replace the decor and snake, and then clean the bowl as a separate task? That would be easier for my brain. Currently I have a Specific bowl I prefer to use for each tank, and then everything else is Just In Case, but I mean. Acquiring extras is something I want to do anyway, and it may help with several problems, so. Yeah. I'll try that. But also, any other ideas, guys?

Anxiety: can't stop picking at my face, skin, nails, cuticles, scalp, pretty much everywhere with callouses, also scratched a mole off my face, which is something I've been trying Not to do for a while, so that's...not great. Can't find my earmuffs, and also all of my headphones are painful? Ears are really sensitive lately.

Been playing a lot of Moth Game (flutter: starlight if you wanna be friends say hey I don't know how to do it but would enjoy talking about moths if nothing else. The game is just like, an idle ish collecting game with cutesy versions of different species, and very little actual information, but it's still fun, and if anyone else is on there and also Into Moths like I am, hiiiii) and like it's fun and cute but also greatly impacting my productivity, and raises my stress levels during events, which is most days, so the game has. Not been helping. But I can't stop because then I'll miss Exclusive Moths.

Anyway. Had baklava and two mugs of Thai tea today and the sugar has made me nauseous.

Trying to journal. Hurts to write. Also takes too long. Also my handwriting is very bad. But typing is..not as good

Want to draw. Thinking about drawing cats

Plants again! Want to make seed bombs, have seeds, have most of the other ingredients, just need to put em together, basically.

Really sad :(

Or am I?

Weird noise coming from dining room?

Birds. Spent half an hour at least on the deck tonight listening to a hundred different bird calls (literally) to identify one I was hearing, it was a pine siskin, which I checked early on but the recording was bad and I didn't realize which call was identified. Anyway, cool to put a name to a face, so to speak.

Need to practice for ASL

So much.....to do...

Only had like >3 hours of work this week which was not great because money, but also like I'm really feeling those 3 hours....

My cat is basically refusing to come into my room? Which is very strange and I'm worried something is Off but cannot figure out what. Also means less cuddles which means I'm sad.

It feels strange whenever people follow me, the attention is nice but I have no idea what content y'all are here for. So to everyone: hi, enjoy, hope my random personal posts aren't a surprise to anyone who followed for like. News reblogs and informational stuff.

Do I even have it in me to..be successful in school? Should I drop out of college? I'm struggling really hard and do not feel like I'm building on the skills I need to continue, so like. Uh.

My dad is being. Abrasive.

Mom and grandma are very angry lately

Housemate is also angry, about things i thought we were on good terms about, so I am stressed because like,, are we okay?

Can't find my eye mask :(

Yoga? Like...restorative yoga? Need to track down my PT stuff. And. Do it.

Need to put the stickers on my license plates....oops...

Still haven't found my antidepressants! Yay!

Do I want to store my stuff in open bins, or with lids? Which stuff needs spill protection and stacking capability and which stuff needs easy access?

How to earn money without..chaos

Gotta go to the pet store tomorrow. Have to compile my list of pet store items i need. Uhhhhhhhhhh

Also I have an essay due tomorrow that I've barely started. So. Wooooooo

Kt tape for supporting arches / inner ankles? I keep messing up my ankles, and part of it is walking wrong because I don't have the energy to engage the muscles in my feet/legs right to like, avoid injury, and part of it is I just need new shoes inserts. But i wear slippers a lot and they do not have arch support and it hurts. PT to help with this also but Where Is It

Family can't seem to get dish soap I can use, so I've just been having to avoid washing anything by hand, or being in the general kitchen area while anyone uses the stuff, which has led to more of my dishes sitting out, and more conflict over dishes. Lovely.

How hard is it for parents to learn they have to respect boundaries? Very hard, apparently. And you're supposed to just sort of remind people, and explain, over and over and over but like at this point my self worth is actually pretty good and the lifetime of proof that they do not want to listen? That's making me want to stop trying. Like, if you're not going to respect my boundaries I'm just not going to involve you in my life. I'm not talking to my dad right now because of this. Maybe I'll decide to lay things out to him, again and again and again again, maybe not. And I'm comfortable saying that's on him.

How to drink water

Am I dehydrated or are my hands just completely callous now. My fingertips have such hard skin. Why? It's uncomfortable. This is part of why I've been biting them.

Also testosterone. Been having a lot of trouble doing my shots, because anxiety and physical freakouts, but also not feeling super urgent about it. Which I'm realizing may be a sign i need to look at the effects so far and the possible effects of continuing, and see what they make me feel. It's possible I'm where I want to be as far as T, and don't really want to stay on it. A big thing for me is a deeper voice, so it seems time to take a look at whether I like my voice where it is or want to see if it'll drop any more. Etc etc

Miss my lil sisters

Saw a lot of cool rocks today. Huge (like hand sized) ammonite for $28. May go back and buy one because. Wow.

Want to plant food plants

Also my natives. Whole garden plot standing empty with a bunch of stuff waiting in nursery pots, needing to go in the ground. Because I can't get out of bed. Love that. Stuff is dying out there, I'm dying in here, there's a poetry to it and I do not want to romanticize suffering so I will say this: I brought a Bucket full of moss home a month ago and planted it and now go outside sometimes to drench my moss and it is very rewarding because the stuff is just so green. Incredible. When the rest of my plants are finally in the ground, that feeling will only intensify. But, for now, the moss is very nice.

Made a glow in the dark bead lizard from memory during therapy yesterday, and I love him. Also, still struggling with bringing up autism and psychosis topics with my therapist. Still very worried about. Things. Would like to get a new person? But sometimes she is helpful? And we have a routine. It's very hard to break the routine. Maybe I can set some time aside during the summer, to figure out what to do there.

Term ends in a couple weeks. The task of catching up, of passing, seems impossible. I really need to pass my courses. I'm on academic warning, because my GPA is lower than it should be, and if I can pass all of my classes this term I can get off academic warning but otherwise I'm not sure what will happen to my financial aid.

My phone is playing the same 50-100 songs on shuffle and I don't even particularly like most of them and it is very strange

Got my face wipes! Hooray, i can wash my face again

Been eating too much sugar in general. It's making my joints hurt more, and the nausea

Pet a dog the other day. I miss that. It would be really nice to have a dog in the house again. The exuberance, the cuddles, the tail wagging, the walks... I'd really like that. Maybe once I'm out in my room, tanks and catio built and everyone is situated, I'll look into getting a dog instead of a cat next. Was planning on holding off in case I'm not physically able to take them out on walks and such, but I've been pretty successful at doing this job, and I think that my main hurdle for walking really is motivation. Dog walking is a strong motivator for me. Best to start by fostering, or just do Wag, for a while though. I'm feeling overwhelmed with my current responsibilities, and here I am talking about getting a dog. Good job, me

How do you get wax off of somewhat water soluble rocks? My housemate broke my lava lamp on some of my rock collection and I am not sure how to get some of them clean without damage.

I am...pretty sure there are collared doves nesting over my room but it seems they're less common around here than I thought? But they are..pretty distinctive. Like if I'm wrong, what are those birds. Some very distinctly colored feral pigeons? Who are nesting here, in a tree, without their flock, and who happen to have pretty much the exact same pattern?

Probably should go to the dollar store and get some bins for organizing

Been wanting to keep a bin by the door and stock it with stim/fidget stuff people can just .have ..like extras of some of my favorites and other things i can get ahold of, to offer to my friends who haven't really had the chance to explore the world of stim toys

Hands are really just not doing great the last several weeks. Arthritis type pain cropping up more and more in all the little joints, making it hurt more to write, type, or just use them for whatever. Coordination isn't great because of that distraction, and because my hands/arms are slow to respond and kinda weak. Most people would say I'm not using them enough but I've been doing 15ish hours of manual labor per week, so maybe it's the other direction? More water would help. If only it wasn't so heavy.

I haven't taken a single shower since I started my job. Which was March 29th. That's not great.

Practiced parallel parking today. 10/10 still very bad at it.

Having anxiety that my friends think I'm lying about things, faking, and are watching me to see if I'll slip up. So that sucks. Can either talk about that directly or indirectly, or just shut up about those things until I can get my brain under control again. I'm not sure right now if the reassurance would work as a reality check or make me believe it more, right now, so might hold off on the talking bit for a little while.

Saw, smelled, picked a couple pretty roses. Good times

At this point I'm just trying to list all my thoughts so that maybe I'll be able to sleep and not worry I'll forget

My mom has put her spider plant on the deck, and it has maybe five living leaves. I have no idea how she killed such a well established spider plant, the last time I saw it it was so happy. Did she stick it in a corner and forget to water it? Whatever happened, it is now in the Plant ER, so hopefully I'll be able to...help get it on the up and up again

Leo is such a pretty noodle. He's so pretty. He's posing. Hi, baby boy.

Oh, he saw me moving around and decided to come say hi. Sorry little man, i did not mean to disturb you. Please resume lounging. I can't bring you out right now, I'm trying to sleep.

Also, terrariums. Water features. Need to ask. Someone. The one who was making that super cool garter snake enclosure and blogging the progress? With the lazy river and pool? About maintenance on that kind of setup. My milk snake really enjoys water, and I'd love to put a water feature in his tank. But I'm unclear on how to keep it clean, or honestly where to start. Don't want any huge falls or anything, though it actually may not make the humidity too high if I did maybe a small drip wall into the pool? That seems like something he would enjoy, and a good way to support different types of plants. But like, that's the thing, it's bioactive and I haven't done that before and no amount of research is ever enough.

Oh, Shogun has a dirt hat. How cute. I love when they do that

See, this is the thing. My snakes make me so happy. All three of them are actually hanging out where I can see them from my bed right now, and it's really nice. I want their lives to be the best possible, and I think I have the resources to do that. Which is so exciting. Now if only my brain and body would cooperate. It would hurt quite a lot to have to re-home any of them, but the most important thing is their health and quality of life, you know? If I can't get my act together somewhat, it may be that one or all of them would be better off with another keeper. I don't know. It's just, i talk about all these tank ideas and all this husbandry standards stuff but how much of it actually gets applied to my own animals whose lives are in my hands? How well am I caring for them, really?

Oh!!! My red thread! I thought that was gone forever.

Anyway, please do not worry. My snakes are healthy. I pay attention, and watch for signs of illness, and they're okay. There will always be places to improve, and the water is a big one, but most of the time i change their water out frequently, I'm just worried because of bad depression and fatigue times, you know? I'm working on making the most self sustaining systems i can, in part so that I am sure they'll be okay if I mess up sometimes. Just saying this because I hope you guys don't feel like you need to worry about the welfare of my pets. They're okay, i just always want better for them, is all.

Anyway, the sun is coming up and I should probably go to sleep. So uh, thanks for reading, if you read all of this randomness, and if anyone has thoughts or advice on anything in this post, i would welcome it! Good night!

#mine #long post #snakes #pets #food m #uhhhhhhhhhhhh whatever else needs tagging

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older-brother-kit · 4 years

Text

TSMC ch. 4

Hey everyone, sorry that it’s been a while! All the fighting amongst the TSC fandom (and stuff going on irl) kind of brought my motivation down, but Ash motivated me yesterday so here’s the newest chapter!

You can find chapter 1 here on tumblr and here on ao3, and you can find chapter 3 here on tumblr and here on ao3! For those that need a refresher, this is a Parent Trap AU with Herongraystairs, the children being James, Lucie, Mina, and Kit.

Here's the chapter on ao3! Please let me know if you enjoyed <3

Chapter 4: Is This Legal?

James had never been more confused in his life. The idea of his mom marrying two people at the same time was crazy enough, but the idea of Lucie and Mina being his sisters? He had no idea how to feel about it.

“I have a mom!” Lucie shrieked, and James winced at the high volume.

“I have a mom,” Mina whispered. “I have --another dad?” She turned to look at Lucie, and Lucie turned to look at her.

“I have another dad,” Lucie said, and stood up. Mina stood up with her.

They grasped each other’s hands and started jumping up and down in excitement. “Yes!” they shouted, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re sisters!”

“Um,” James said. “I’m lost. How is this possible?”

However, he knew that they were right. The two girls had seemed familiar when he’d first met them, especially Lucie, and if he compared them to his mom he could see the similarities. Lucie and Mina have the same eyebrows, he thought, and was tempted to find a mirror and look at his own eyebrows to see if his matched.

“They met and fell in love, duh.” Lucie said, once she and Mina had finally sat back down. They were sitting close together, still holding hands with wide smiles.

“No, I mean, marry two people. I didn’t even know you could date two people at once.” James shared. He could feel his head spinning, and was glad that he was sitting down. James read a lot of books, but nothing could have prepared him for his life to turn into what could be the plot of one.

“Oh, I know!” Mina said enthusiastically, gesturing to the picture of her dad. Our dad? “My dad says that he’s poly, which means that he can fall in love with more than one person at once. Your mom and Lucie’s papa must be poly too. Then they all fell in love with each other and married.” she explained. “Dad told us about it when Kit said that he liked both girls and boys.”

James thought about it. “I guess that makes sense.” he said. He didn’t know that being poly was a thing, but he knew now, and the idea of having two dads was really cool.

Lucie nodded with vigor. “That totally makes sense. I can’t believe I have two other parents out there!”

An overwhelming urge to cry hit James all of a sudden, and he put his head into his hands.

“James? Are you alright?”

He’d never had a dad before. James remembered being in school, and hearing people talk about their dads so casually. My dad is taking me fishing this weekend, my dad drove me to an amusement park, my dad picks me up from school. James had tried not to think about his dad growing up, because whenever he asked his mom got a sad look on her face. He never wanted to make his mom sad, so when he was little he learned to stop asking.

And yet… there was always a part of James that longed for his father. He wanted a dad, desperately, so much that sometimes it physically hurt. He knew nothing about his father, but he loved him. He used to wonder if his dad was out there somewhere, and if he loved James too. If he thought of James as much as James thought of him.

Now, James didn’t have one father, but two. He was happy, so happy that he could burst, but that also meant that there were two people to worry about. What if they met him, and they didn’t like him? What if he disappointed them? For all he knew, they didn’t want a son who’d rather read a book than dance at a party. Maybe they didn’t want a son who was shy around strangers, a son who usually had trouble making friends.

Maybe they didn’t want a son at all.

“James!” Lucie yelled directly into his ear, and James jumped a solid three inches.

“What?” he asked, his heart pounding. If he got scared that easily, he wondered how bad it would be when he watched his first horror movie.

“You were kind of zoning out there,” Mina said, frowning. “Are you okay?”

James took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah, it’s just that I have two dads now and I never thought I’d even have one. It’s kind of a big deal for me.”

Lucie laughed good-naturedly. “It’s ok James, we didn’t expect this either.” She hesitated. “Honestly, it’s scary to think about meeting my other parents.”

Mina nodded in agreement. “Me too. I want to meet the both of them so badly, but it makes me nervous when I think about it.”

It was calming, sitting on the bed together and listening to how he wasn’t the only one who was worried about what the future held.

James laid down with his back to the bed, his legs dangling off the edge. Lucie and Mina -his sisters- did the same. “What are they like?” he asked quietly.

“My papa is amazing,” Lucie said proudly. “He’s super smart, but he can be really goofy and he makes a lot of funny jokes.”

James smiled. “My mom can be like that, too.” he said. “She’s really smart and loves books like me, and she always stands up for me no matter what.” He turned his head to Mina on his left. “What about you?”

“My dad is the best,” Mina said immediately. “He’s the nicest person in the world, though he can be cheesy sometimes. He’s smart and has a job that keeps him busy, but he always seems to have time to spend with me and Kit.”

Lucie jerked her head up. “Wait a minute,” she breathed. “If you’re my sister, does that mean Kit’s my brother?” James hadn’t considered that, but liked the thought of having an older brother.

Mina paused, then sat up. Lucie sat up as well, and James groaned but did the same. “That’s right!” Mina exclaimed. “Oh you’ll love him, I just know it! And I’m sure he’d love both of you.”

They all looked at each other excitedly, and James smiled. It was still nerve-wracking to think about, but he couldn’t wait to meet the rest of his family.

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Lucie was pretty sure that Thomas didn’t believe them until they pulled out the torn pictures as proof. Not that she could blame him, because honestly? The fact that Mina and James were her siblings was insane, and it was still sinking in.

Lucie wasn’t really a fan of autobiographies, but this was a crazy enough discovery that she was tempted to write one.

Not that she was unhappy about it, because Lucie couldn’t be happier. She had siblings! Her new friends turned out to be her sister and her brother, and she had an older brother back in California that she had yet to meet. Lucie also had two other parents, and she couldn’t wait to meet them.

“So,” she began in the middle of dinner, and everyone at their table glanced in her direction. “How do we get our parents back together?”

James looked shocked at the question. “Back together?” he asked. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“I don’t know if that will work,” Thomas said, stabbing a piece of macaroni and cheese with a fork. Christopher was stacking his noodles on top of each other to build a noodle tower, and Lucie was silently wondering when Thomas would notice and put a stop to it. “Aren’t they already with someone new?”

“No!” Lucie spluttered, nearly choking on her food. “No way is my dad dating someone! He’s never dated anybody.”

“Maybe he’s going on secret dates,” Christopher suggested, and Thomas turned to look at him. He noticed the macaroni tower and sighed, using Christopher’s fork to topple it before telling him not to play with his food.

“He’s not.” Lucie said vehemently. “I would know if he was.”

“My mom doesn’t date either,” James announced. “Just so you know.”

Everyone turned to look at Mina, who looked surprised at the thought. “My dad doesn’t date.” she said. “He wouldn’t be dating someone.”

Lucie clapped her hands together, feeling the excitement run through her veins. “Perfect,” she grinned, with almost too much joy. Thomas, who was sitting across from her, slowly scooted his chair back. “Then they have to still have feelings together. Trust me, I know these things.”

“It’s true,” James chimed in, and when everyone looked at him he blushed. “It’s just, that’s how it works in books.” he mumbled.

Lucie considered mentioning that she liked to write, but the moment passed. Her head quickly filled with strategies on getting her parents back together. “We have to make them see each other again,” she said. “Telling them we know we’re related might not be enough.”

“What if we swapped places?” Mina suggested. “We go to a different parent after camp is over, and then they’d have to meet up to put us back with who we’re supposed to be.”

“That would never work,” James pointed out. “We can’t switch flights, our names are on the tickets.”

Lucie frowned. “Aww. That could’ve been really fun.”

“I could change that,” Christopher said casually. “I could change the names on the flights.”

The whole table stopped talking and looked at him.

“You can… change the tickets? How is that possible?” James asked, baffled.

“Oh, you know,” Christopher shrugged, and then chewed through a mouthful of macaroni. The ten seconds Lucie had to wait before he swallowed and continued was agony. “Get a computer, hack a website or two to change the names for the flights, find a printer to print out the new tickets. Simple stuff.”

Thomas was staring at his cousin in horror. James and Mina had their mouths open in shock, and Lucie was speechless.

“Is he serious?” James whispered to Thomas.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Thomas whispered back.

“Christopher,” Mina cleared her throat. “How smart are you, exactly?”

Christopher looked up from his food, a confused expression on his face. Lucie got the impression that his entire part of that conversation had been on autopilot. “What do you mean?”

“This is perfect!” Lucie beamed. “With your help, we can swap places and get our parents back together!”

“Oh no,” Thomas muttered. “Please no, I can only handle so much-”

Christopher blinked. “Thomas, is something wrong?”

Lucie laughed, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “This is too good!”

Her parents had no idea what would hit them.

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Mina had never stolen something before, but just this once she didn’t mind doing it. They needed a computer for Christopher to use, and deep in the counselors’ cabin there was a locked box filled with everyone’s electronics. Christopher had mentioned that he’d originally brought a laptop that had been taken when he first arrived at camp, and Mina was now on a mission to find it and take it back.

Originally Lucie had volunteered to go, but Mina knew something that the rest of them didn’t --Mina knew how to pick a lock. Kit was an expert and had taught her years ago, and Mina was happy that she could finally put those lockpicking lessons to good use.

Since Mina was going to be the one to get the laptop, the others were going to make a distraction. She didn’t know what the distraction would be, but she figured she’d recognize it when it happened. Currently she was hanging around outside of the boys’ counselor cabin, waiting for the opportunity to sneak inside.

“Christopher, no!” a voice yelled.

Mina turned to look and saw Christopher holding a burning torch in front of the cabin, James by his side and holding a megaphone. Mina knew she should be concerned about Christopher and where he got a torch from, but she was more interested in how James managed to get a megaphone.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” James deadpanned. “Welcome to Christopher’s new experiment, where he tests what can and can’t catch on fire.”

All of the counselors in the cabin ran outside immediately, and James tugged on Christopher’s arm to lead him away from the cabin. Mina took that as her cue and ran inside the cabin, trying to erase the worrying image of Christopher with a torch from her memory. She looked around and couldn’t see anything that looked like the box everyone had to put their electronics into, but then crouched down and looked underneath the beds.

Underneath the bed on the far right was a clear box filled with electronics. “Yes!” Mina whispered, smiling. There was a lock on the box, but Mina took out a hair pin and got to work. It wasn’t long before the box was open, and she went through the contents trying to find Christopher’s laptop. Mina paused when she saw an orange laptop with a few weird stains and what looked like a burn mark on one side. That’s the one, she thought. She quickly grabbed it before closing the box, putting the lock back on, and pushing it under the bed. Christopher and Thomas had described the laptop for her, but Mina probably would’ve guessed that it was Christopher’s laptop anyway due to all the damage it had.

“Fire!” she heard Lucie yell from outside. “The fire’s gone, there’s no more fire!”

That was Lucie’s way of signaling Mina to leave before she got caught, and Mina quickly shoved the laptop under the back of her shirt before running out the back door and walking around the cabin to stand next to Lucie. One of the counselors was scolding Christopher, the torch extinguished and by his feet. Christopher turned and waved at Mina and Lucie happily.

“Did you get it?” Lucie asked quietly.

Mina nodded. “Yeah,” she replied. “Let’s go before they notice the weird shape of my shirt.”

Lucie raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything, and they both speed-walked to the gazebo that they’d agreed they would all meet at. Thomas was already there, and soon enough James and Christopher ran in.

Thomas stood up at once. “Christopher,” he said nervously, “Please tell me you didn’t get kicked out of camp.”

Christopher shook his head. “No,” he said. “But they said they were going to call my parents.”

Thomas paled. “Aunt Cecily is going to kill me.”

“I do have some good news,” Mina said excitedly. “I’ve got the laptop.” She quickly transferred it from her lap to Christopher’s, and Thomas did a double take.

“I thought they locked all the electronics up?” he asked.

Mina smiled proudly. “I picked the lock.”

She and Lucie high-fived, and James looked impressed. As Christopher opened up the laptop and got to work, Mina couldn’t help but keep smiling. She had originally gone to camp just to have the camp experience at least once, but everything had gone so much better than she could have ever imagined. She had two more siblings, two more parents, and two more friends --four more friends if she counted her new brother and sister.

James leaned over Lucie to look at what Christopher was doing, resting an elbow on her shoulder. Lucie made a face, and Mina laughed. Lucie quickly brought her elbow up and rested it on James’s shoulder instead.

“I’m older,” Lucie declared. “So I have to be the one to lean on you.”

James looked offended. “What? No, I’m older.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t the two of you twins? You’re the same age.”

“Twins,” Lucie said. “That’s right, I forgot about that. We have the same birthday and we’re the same age, so we have to be twins.”

Mina waited for the but that she was sure Lucie would use.

“But I bet I’m the older twin,” Lucie finished smugly.

“I bet I’m the older twin!” James said, his eyes narrowed, and Christopher breaking the law was forgotten. Now this was a show.

“How about this,” Mina interjected, clapping her hands to get their attention. “If you’re so sure, whoever is wrong owes the other person a favor. We can just ask one of our parents.”

That seemed to satisfy both Lucie and James, and Mina spent a while talking with them and Thomas before Christopher told them he was done.

“Christopher that’s amazing!” James praised. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Now we just have to print out the new tickets,” Mina said. “So, we have to find a printer.”

“There’s one in the office building,” Thomas added helpfully. “I’ve seen it before when I went in there with Christopher, once.”

Mina took a second to think before speaking up. “I can probably sneak in there, too. That one might not even need a distraction.”

Lucie fist-pumped the air. “Yes!” she cheered. “It’s all working out!”

Mina smiled at the enthusiasm. We’re doing it, we’re actually doing it! Camp was almost over and soon enough Mina would be on a flight to London to meet her other dad. Her papa, as Lucie called him.

They had already decided who would go where. Mina would go to Will in London, Lucie would go to Tessa in New York, and James would go to Jem in California. Thomas and Christopher had also promised to keep in contact with them all when camp was over, which Lucie appreciated. She knew James was especially happy about it, since he had told Mina and Lucie that his mom had sent him to Camp Clover for the sole reason of getting James more friends. Their plan was coming together, and Mina couldn’t be happier. With how far they’d gone to do this, nothing could stand in their way.

After all, what could go wrong?

-----------------

Alright that’s it for now, but fun fact: Next time we get 3 new POVs, and we also finally see Herongraystairs again! Those things may or may not be related ;)

Tag List: @idontgetit-whydoihavetosaymyname @ineedadrinkorsleep @zzoyalantsov @girlwhohatesstuff @anxiousbookenthusiast @sankalina @themostawesomehuman @hands-dripping-ink @panicatwallmaria @immortal-enemies @booklovingelephants @bookishgeekygirl @livia-dovehallow @cortqnq @christophers-lemon-tarts @thenameskarr-parkerkarr

A lot of people have changed their usernames so some are probably wrong, but correct me if they are.

Let me know in a reblog/comment/tag if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

55 notes · View notes

newcolonies · 4 years

Text

Someone You Loved

A/n: Here we are, another fic for the books. So basically, Ethan comes back from the Amazon, and Casey (mc) is quite angry about the matter. Here is my version of how the confrontation went down! Enjoy!

Also a BIG thanks to @aylamwrites and @caseyvalentineramsey for pre-reading and making sure it wasn’t complete trash!

Tag list: @openheart12 @queencarb @junehiratas @lilyvalentine @kaavyaethanramsey @tsrookie @caseyvalentineramsey @rookieoh @trappedinfandoms @lion-ess24 @rookiemarsswiftie @schnitzelbutterfingers @aylamwrites @laiba-the-person @starrystarrytrouble

*If you would like to be added or removed from the list just let me know.

Wordcount: 2,539

*All characters involved in this story are owned by PB

Title inspiration: Someone you loved by Lewis Capaldi

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Ethan walked into the hospital, he could feel his body shudder as the automatic doors welcomed him inside. The air was cool and crisp, the smell of cleaning products lingered heavily. He took in a deep breath, allowing himself to fill his lungs with this familiar smell. It smelt like home.

“My son, welcome back! How was your stay in the Amazon?” Naveen asked as he walked up to Ethan. The old man had a large grin plastered on his face. Ethan had been gone for two months, but he still had missed Naveen immensely. And due to the poor cell phone reception, the two haven't talked at all since he had been away.

“It was amazing,” he began, “it was quite the learning experience, I may add. It brought a new perspective to our job.” Ethan wore a large smile on his face. He had already begun to miss the Amazon. He had come to love the area and the people that he met during his stay. “How have things been while I was gone?”

“Everything ran quite smoothly! Though-” Naveen said his smile slowly fading into a serious grimace. “Ethan, I don't mean to be rude but you should go talk to Casey. She has been considerably down after you left,” he said in a deep whisper. “She hasn't quite been herself since you left.”

A pang of guilt washed over him, he had tried his best to keep that name out of his head. Hearing her name sent a shiver down his spine. Ethan left without saying anything to Casey, not even a single goodbye or explanation. He knew that she would hurt, but he still felt the need to leave without saying a single word to her. After all, the whole point of going to the Amazon was to reset the relationship with Casey to a professional level once again, and saying goodbye would have made it more difficult for him to finally leave.

Though Naveen was right, she deserved to see him, she deserved to know why he left. “Yea, I should. But I don't know if I can face her, Naveen.”

Naveen lay a hand on the young doctor's shoulder. “Son, you must face the things you believe you cannot do because that is how we grow. Go easy on her, explain how you are feeling, and why you left.”

Ethan nodded his head. Naveen had reassured Ethan, he felt confident, although he knew that every bit of confidence would disappear when he saw her. “Thank you, Naveen.” he offered him a brief smile to show his thankfulness for the old man. He assumed that she had been in the diagnostics office, most likely hunched over a file. The walk to the office felt like a mile. Nurses and doctors greeted him and welcomed him back as he walked. He felt everyone's eyes burning holes into him, making the trip feel impossibly longer.

Soon Ethan was standing at the door of the office. The nerves began to build up inside him, he felt like a rag doll. He knew this was going to go badly, but it had to be done. He swung the door open and walked in, allowing the door to shut loudly behind him.

“Oh, hey Baz,” she said without looking up from the file in front of her, “I forgot to ask, but can you take these files to the front desk,” she said, grabbing a stack of papers from the desk and looking up at the doorway, her voice trailed off. “Ethan?” she shook her head in disbelief.

“Hey Casey,” he replied, pulling a hand through his thick hair, he shifted his weight uncomfortably. He felt suffocated, like the walls of the office were closing in around him leaving only him and Casey alone in a cramped room, together. “How was the Amazon?” she roughly said.

“You knew that I went to the Amazon? How?” he asked, confusion laced in his voice. He only had told Naveen that he would be going on the trip, but of course, rumors spread like a wildfire around the hospital.

“It's funny you should ask that,” she gestured towards the chair across from her. “You may want to take a seat.” Ethan nodded and sat in the seat across from her. He didn't dare to look her in the eyes, so instead, he glanced at the files she was looking over. He could only make out the word cancer, but everything else had been too small for him to read.

“Well, when I noticed you had been gone for a while I had started to worry. So immediately I went to Naveen, who of course told me that you had gone to the Amazon.” Casey sputtered, a small smirk developing on her face. Ethan looked up from the table and met Casey's eyes. Despite the smile she wore, her eyes told a different story, one that read of sadness and anger.

“Casey, I should explain-” He began to say. Knowing that he was the reason that Casey had been broken, made him feel shallow. He managed to hurt the ones he loved, and it seemed to be a task that he had done often. Maybe, he wasn't cut out to be in a serious relationship, maybe he was destined to be a grumpy doctor that pushed people an arm's length away. Ethan often doubted himself, but this was the only doubt that he truly believed. If he were, to be honest with himself, he knew he didn't deserve her, he knew that she could do better than him. But sometimes the truth hurts too much to be addressed.

“Ethan, I believe that you should have explained two months before now. You left without telling me, not one goodbye, not one text, not one call. You left me in the dust questioning if I had done something wrong or if you were alright. Ethan, I have been nothing but miserable these past two months. And it's all thanks to you,” she roared arrogantly. Small tears began to pour out of her eyes.

“Casey, there's a lot of things I should have done differently, I know, but I did this for you. I did this, so we would have a chance to reset before whatever this is,” he said waving a hand between the two of them, “got out of hand. We crossed a line, and I can't allow that to happen again.” he said quietly, he was trying to remain professional. He hadn't wanted to let on that he was hurting as much as she was.

He had contemplated coming home every day just to see her, and hold her in his arms. The only thing he had wanted to do was see her, but he had to stay strong and resist the urges, for her sake.

Casey gave out a small laugh, “We have to stay professional, but only when it's convenient for you, Ethan. You continue to lead me on, and then cut me loose whenever you feel guilty or overwhelmed by us. I can't keep playing these back and forth games with you. You either have me or I walk out of those doors and you can forget about anything we ever were.” she protested.

All Ethan had wanted to do was pull her close to him and hold her for the rest of eternity, but instead, he just sat there. He hadn't wanted it to come down to this, but if he had to lose her entirely to secure the safety of her job, then he was willing to do so. But God did it hurt.

“Fine, if that's what you want, then I'll respect that,” Casey murmured breaking the beat of silence between them. She grabbed her bag and headed towards the door. Ethan could hear her small sniffles and gentle sobs as she walked towards the door. “I hope you're happy,” she said and walked out of the door letting it shut behind her. He was everything but happy, he felt as if he had just been hit by a wrecking ball. He felt destroyed, he felt useless. He had just let the one he loved walk out of that door. He just let it happen.

Ethan sighed and slid his glance over to the piece of paper that she had conveniently left behind, no doubt she had done it on purpose. He reached for the paper, and unlatch his glasses from the hem of his shirt and began the tedious task of looking over the file. The name at the top read Kyra Santana. Ethan propped his head on his hand and continued reading through the file.

Kyra was one of Casey's best friends, she was skilled in the art of getting on Ethan's nerves due to her flirty personality, and her willingness to risk everything without a set plan had stressed Ethan out. But she was a genuine and kind woman, a perfect match with Casey's personality. But unfortunately, that same woman, the woman that everyone loved dearly, was dying. Ethan stared at the words on the file until they turned into a blur. Not only had he left Casey, but her friend's health was also declining. This information made him feel sick to his stomach. How could be so inconsiderate?

Ethan jolted out of his seat and went to find her. She may not want to see him, but he needed to be with her. He needed to tell her how sorry he was. He needed to tell her that he was there for her. He needed to make things right between them. Ethan looked down at Kyra's file that was crumpled in his hand. He walked down to room 34A and knocked steadily on the door.

“Come on in!” he heard a cheery small voice exclaim. He hadn't been sure if he was in the right room, but her tone of voice clarified all doubt that he had. Ethan walked through the door to be greeted by a small, frail woman lying in the hospital bed. Iv's and wires remained spread around her, connecting her to the large machines that sat humming lowly next to her. On Kyra's right sat Casey. She looked up at him briefly, before looking back at Kyra, her attempt at avoiding any contact with him.

“Hey Kyra, I hope you don't mind if I take Casey for a second,” Ethan spoke lowly.

“Oh, that's no problem, you two have fun!” she exclaimed all but subtly. “And if you could bring her back before I- you know,” she motioned her hand in a line across her neck and stuck out her tongue. Casey shot a stern glance at Kyra before heading towards the door with Ethan. She hadn't fought him, she never refused, she just walked through the door with him.

Ethan shut the door slowly and took in a deep breath before speaking, his attempt at clearing the fog that had occupied his mind. “Casey, can we please talk about this,” he calmly said.

“Talk about what Ethan? How you left me for two months, or how my friend is knocking on death's door?” she said in a high-pitched voice. Ethan could still see the makeup smudged under her eyes from when she had cried earlier. “Or shall we talk about how you just let me walk out of those doors?”

“Casey,” Ethan said defeated. “I wanted to stop you from walking out of the doors. I wanted to tell you that I was leaving. There are so many things that I had wanted to do differently.” “And why didn't you? Because you're too professional? Because you're concerned about my job rather than my happiness? Which will it be Ethan? I've heard your excuse two too many times.” She spouted coldly.

Ethan felt a nip of pain as the words escaped her mouth. Unfortunately, everything she said had been true. He sounded as if he was a soulless monster, and perhaps he was. He had decided that he needed to be honest with her because that's what she deserves, that's what deserved two months ago. “I'm terrified. I feel weak, I feel vulnerable. Casey, I'm in love with you and that's exactly what terrifies me. I have never felt this way about anyone, this is new and it scares me. I'm scared of messing up, and hurting you even more than I have already.” He felt small and exposed.

“Ethan, I love you. I always have, I never have given up on you. I know truly that we can make this work if we tried. But you have to stop avoiding the inevitable, it truly only makes things worse.” Casey softly said.

“I'm so sorry, Casey. I want to make us work, I do.” Ethan exclaimed.

“I want to make us work too. And we can, but we have to face the reality that we might get in trouble for this,” she said, motioning between the two of them, “But I know that I am so willing to face those consequences, even if that means I get to be with you for a minute of my day.” she stated with a small smile.

Ethan nodded his head in agreeance. He finally had understood what he was feeling. It wasn't just the love that he felt for this woman, it was gratitude. It was the appreciation he felt every moment he saw her. It was the way he lit up every time he was around her. He understood that these feelings are not ones that should be feared, yet these are the feelings he needed to embrace.

He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer to him as Casey responded by wrapping her small arms around his neck. He pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and guided her face to his before their lips met. The kiss they shared brought life back to the two doctors. He felt the tension that was building up in his body convert to mere bliss. Casey smiled against his lips before she pulled away and stared at Ethan, joy prevalent on her face. She laid her head on his chest, clinging on to him for dear life.

They stayed like this for a while until the moment was soon ruined by the faint sound of clapping in the background. Casey broke from Ethan's grip, only offering him a puzzled look. She opened the door to Kyra's room curiously, to see her clapping her hands fervently a large grin on her face.

“That kiss was hot, it was almost movie-worthy,” she happily said. Ethan rolled his eyes in annoyance, but the smile he was trying to conceal had come out. He was the happiest he had been in a while.

Despite Ethan's obvious annoyance, Casey burst out laughing. “It was wasn't it,” she exclaimed proudly grasping her hand in Ethan's.

They were happy, and that's all the mattered right now. He knew there would stumbling blocks ahead, but for now, he was going to enjoy the small moments, because when he left her he found out that those moments are the ones that he treasured the most.

#open heart #open heart second year #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #ethan x casey #choices open heart #openheart #choices #ethan ramsey fanfiction #pixelberry #choices stories you play

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

Along the same lines as my previous ask because that turned out so wonderfully! Little Monsters SternClay au? I feel like Barclay might be even worse at being a scary monster than Indrid unless he felt hurt or threatened? And Stern, the precious lil’ monster nerd, was probably a bit more than Barclay bargained for. If you decide you want to write it, NSFW is always welcome! Thank you for your beautiful writing! 😭👏🏆

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW

Barclay can totally do this. He’s seven, the same age most monsters are when they’re assigned to humans, and his teacher was very clear about what he should do. She also told him that most monsters don’t need to do much at all; the humans do the work for them, getting very scared by the smallest things.

He emerges beneath the bed, his view mainly that of a wooden floor with a few neat piles of toys and books. Reaching up, he drags his claws along the underside of the bed. There’s a creak, the child in the bed sitting up. Barclay growls, and gets a small gasp in response.

“There’s a monster under my bed.”

Barclay, unsure if the child is speaking to him, replies, “Yes. There is.”

He sniffs, and while there’s a whiff of fear in the room there’s not nearly as much as his teacher said there would be.

“What kind of monster?”

Okay, this wasn’t mentioned either. Human’s weren’t supposed to be this talkative, and also he’s not sure what this one even means by his question.

“Uh, a Barclay?”

“...That sounds like a person name. Is that your name?”

“Yes.”

“I said what kind of monster are you. Are you a sasquatch?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“A chupacabra?”

“I also don’t know what that is.”

“A frogman?”

“I don’t, uh, don’t think so?”

There’s an exasperated huff, “I’m just going to look.”

“No don’t!” Barclay squeaks, trying to make himself smaller. When bare feet hit the floor, he gives up and runs away.

What was that? Why was the human asking so many questions? Is Barclay not scary enough?

The next night, he starts with the growl, hoping that will scare the kid. What he gets is something shining in his eyes, and he just manages to throw up protective shadows to keep his whole head from being seen.

“Are you going to run away again?” The kid, Joseph, sticks the nighlight further under the bed. He’s on his belly, pajamas covered in faintly glowing UFOs, and frowns when Barclay tosses a higher growl his way.

“I won’t hurt you. I just want to see a real monster.”

“You, you can’t. It’s not allowed. I’ll get in trouble.”

That same, exasperated noise as Joseph retracts his arm, “Fine, but I still want to know what kind of monster you are. Here” he grabs a large book, opening it and shining the light so Barclay can see the pictures, “tell me when I get to one that looks like you.”

“Okay. You really aren’t scared?”

He shakes his head, face serious, “I don’t think monsters are scary. As long as you’re careful.”

Barclay feels like he should point out that sticking your arm and part of your head under a bed with a monster doesn’t seem all that careful.

“Most monsters are friendly. I think. Except lake monsters.” The boy stiffens, “you’re not a lake monster, are you?”

“No, I don’t live in a lake.”

A sigh of relief, “okay, then we can be friends.”

Barclay likes having friends, and there’s nothing in the rules that say he can’t be friends with his human “okay. We’re friends.”

Joseph smiles, begins turning pages and explaining the pictures in an animated whisper. By the end of the night, they determine Barclay looks most like something called a “bigfoot.”

-----------------------------------------------

“It’s so cute, don’t you think?” Mr. Stern steps back from the half-open door of Joe’s room, taking the stack of laundry his wife hands him, “kid’s almost nine and he still likes reading to his stuffed animals.”

“I don’t think he’s let that stuffed bigfoot you got him out of sight since you bought it. And it’s good for him to practice reading aloud.” She sets the laundry basket down on their bed, “even if he thinks he’s being stealthy by hiding on the other side of the bed.”

-------------------------------

“...the end. Huh, that one was okay. What do you think?” Joseph closes the book, setting down near Barclay’s face. The boy’s sitting up on the floor, back resting on the side of the bed, with his few stuffed animals arranged across from him, so his parents will think he’s reading to them rather than the very much alive creature behind him.

“I liked the part with the prince.”

“You liked the kissing part?” He sounds amused.

“Kinda. Didn’t you?”

“I like the mystery part more. I like guessing what’s going to happen and seeing if I’m right.”

He’s right almost every time, which Barclay thinks is so cool.

“Thanks for reading to me. Same time tomorrow?’

“Yes. Goodnight, Barclay.” Joseph stifles a laugh when Barclay leans into rub his face against the exposed skin between his pajamas, knowing full well it tickles when he does.

“Night, Joseph.”

-------------------------------------------------

It’s not that his home, or the monster world, is perfect. Barclay’s met plenty of monsters his age who like to be mean for no good reason. But if what Joseph has been going through the last few days is any indication, humans really like being mean to each other.

The first night he knew something was wrong was that he nearly spoke before catching on to the fact Mrs. Stern was in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“...you all are starting middle school next year. Unfortunately, people tend to get cliquey around this age.”

“But why me? Why don’t they like me?”

What the heck? Who didn’t like Joseph? He’s smart and funny, he knows lots about monsters and aliens and weird events, he’s a good friend who listens when Barclay talks.

Barclay doesn’t like being mean, but he will for sure fight whoever is making Joseph so sad.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I wish I did. Just...try not to let it get to you, okay? And if it gets worse, you tell me or dad and we’ll try to help.”

When she leaves, Barclay doesn’t know what to say, stomach still bubbling with anger on his friends behalf.

“I don’t really feel like talking.” Joseph whispers.

“Okay.”

A sniffle, followed by a hand reaching towards the darkened floor, searching for something. Barclay spots the plush bigfoot wedged between the bed and nightstand, grabs it and sets it into Joseph’s hand.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” It doesn’t feel like enough. He wants to make it better somehow.

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

He reaches up, touching the underside of the bed, “Yeah, sure thing.”

The trouble at school has been getting worse, not better. From what Barclay can piece together, Joseph has been labeled a “nerd,” and shunned by kids who were previously friendly for fear of being labeled the same. He doesn’t tell his parents the worst of it; that he confides only in Barclay, who is discovering all the names humans have for people they want to make outcasts.

It’s time for his secret weapon. Barclay spends the afternoon in the kitchen, careful to do all the washing up since that will decrease any scolding he gets for using the oven alone. He makes a batch of cookies big enough for his parents,cousins, aunts, uncles, and anyone else who may pass by in the next two days, all so no one will notice when he takes a few with him up to the human world.

“Psst, Joseph, come down here a sec.”

His friend appears, mothman pajamas looking a little tear-stained. Barclay slides the plate out to him.

“Where’d these come from?”

“I made them.” He tries not to sound too proud; he did this to cheer Joseph up, not show off, “it seemed like you needed a friend.”

Joseph bites a cookie, smiles for the first time all week.

“Seems like I’ve got one.”

---------------------------------------------------

“How do I look?”

“From the knees down? Fantastic.”

Joseph laughs, “The door is locked, and I’ll close my eyes. Okay, closed!”

Barclay crawls out from under the bed, breath catching as he gets a good look at Joseph in his prom suit. It’s black, with a blue shirt underneath and a silver tie. With his hair slicked back, he looks like a secret agent, like a movie star, like, like…

Like everything Barclay’s ever wanted.

Man, he hopes Joseph’s boyfriend knows how lucky he is.

“You look fucking amazing.”

Joseph smiles, eyes still shut, “everything is on straight? No lint?”

“Some on your left shoulder, which I’m not touching unless you want it replaced by fur.”

“Thank you, Barclay. I wish you could come with me.”

“Me too.” Barclay reaches for his cheek, thinks better of it and lowers his arm, “tell me all about it when you get home?”

“Of course.”

-----------------------------------------------

The small white lights in the kitchen are the final touch, and Barclay brushes his hands off, satisfied. At eighteen, most monsters leave home to find or build their own, and Barclay his inherited this small A-frame house from a great-uncle. It needed some touching up before it felt like home, and it took two passes with a cleaning potion to make the mildew smell go away. Now it’s all his. And just in time, too.

His first heat starts tonight, and the general consensus is it’s much easier to deal with in the privacy of your own home than in a family one. It’s also supposed to be better with a partner, but Barclay is flying solo for the foreseeable future.

What he’s most nervous about is seeing Joseph during it. He doesn’t want to miss a whole week of hanging out, but there's no escaping the fact that if he could have anyone with him during (or after) his heat, it would be his human.

But he’s got it all figured out; he’ll just ask if they can watch a movie, or maybe even if Joseph will read to him. Then he’ll go home and fuck his hand until he passes out.

Yeah, this won’t be awkward at all. It’ll all be totally, completely fine.

---------------------------------------------

Joseph flips to the next page of The Fortean Times, the subscription an eighteenth birthday present from his dad. A slight chill drifts up from beneath the bed, and he smiles.

“How are you tonight?”

“Good. Uh, what’re you up to?” Barclay’s voice is soft, though ever since it changed that gentle baritone makes regular appearances in Joseph’s fantasies. There was a time, right after his top surgery, where Barclay read to him when he couldn’t sleep from the discomfort, and he had the most lurid dreams of his life from that voice (and maybe the painkillers).

“Reading about a supposed “meat shower.”

“Cool. Uh, um, do you, uh”

He sets the magazine down, “Are you alright? You sound kind of...tense?”

(He actually sounds squeakier than usual, but tense seemed the politer choice).

“I’m good.” Is the unconvincing reply.

“I’m coming down there.”

On his belly, he spots the reflective glint that indicates Barclay’s eyes. They’re definitely wider than normal, and from here his breathing is labored.

“Shit, you look sick. Do you need tea? Or, um, I have some painkillers?”

“It’s not pain. It’s, uh, it’s a, uh, look, it’s really, really embarrassing.”

Barclay’s breathing gets louder as Joseph ponders what else it can be.

“It’s partly your, uh, your smell.”

“Is that your way of saying I need a shower?”

“N-no, it’s my, my way of saying you smell really fucking good.” Barclay’ voice creeps upward, and a possible explanation presents itself.

“Barclay, are you thinking about eating me?”

“Not in the traditional sense, no.”

He’s certain his own eyes go comically wide.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I’m, uh, I’m kinda in heat, so I’m like uncomfortably horny and I thought I could handle it and hang out but you smell so nice and I wanna fuck you so much I think I might lose it, so I’m, I’m gonna go, I’m so sorry-”

“Barclay”

“Seriously, I thought I could be chill, it’s not your fault, I’ll come back when it’s over, should be about a week, a miserable week, oh fuck sorry I didn’t mean to say that either.”

“Barclay” Joseph says firmly enough to make the monster stop talking, “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you, um, do you-” oh, right, he’s not very good at this either. He’s learning to be smooth, but it all tends to evaporate when sex comes into play. He inhales, tries again, “If I sit up on my knees with my hands on the bed and you come behind me, even with my eyes open I won’t see more than maybe your hands and arms.”

“You..you want me to fuck you?”

He sounds so hopeful, and it makes Joseph blush, “Yes, Barclay, I do.”

A low, hungry growl, “Get comfy.”

The sound turns him on so quickly that his pajama pants are wet by the time he gets them off. Toys with the bedspread to calm himself as he whispers, “I’m ready.”

The same growl as something heavy crawls from beneath the bed, growing loud enough to shake the lamp. Thank the lord his parents are gone for the weekend.

Warm, slightly furry hands drag up the backs of his thighs, “Fuck, look at you. You always look so fucking put-together in your matching pajamas, like you think someone might be watching.”

“Someone has, for over a decade.”

“True.” There’s a zip and a scuff of fabric, then pants and long-sleeve shirt hit the floor in his periphery, “think it’s time I did something else.” He nudges Joseph's leg with his knee, “spread ‘em, babe.”

He gets his legs as wide as he can comfortably go, tenses when the head of a very large cock presses against him.

“Um, Barclay? H-how much bigger than me are you?”

Barclay’s chin rests on the top of his head as two large hands, at least fifty percent bigger than a human’s, come to cover his own on the bedspread.

“Oh. Um. Alright then.”

“This still okay?” Barclay noses down through his hair to kiss and nuzzle his neck, “Can stop if you want. I’ll go slow to start, I promise. I, I don’t wanna hurt you, wanna make you feel good.” It’s a borderline whine, laced with sweetness and accompanied by the monster rolling his hips, rubbing his cock along Joseph’s folds.

“Yes, very okay, I, I just need to, um, mentally prepare. I didn’t ever expect my first time doing this would be, um, with you.”

“You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve had other kinds of sex, just not this.”

Strong, fuzzy arms encircle his waist, Barclay growling even louder as he grinds against him.

“Mmm, do you like that, big guy? Like the idea of being the first?”

Barclay stops breathing for a moment.

“Oh lord, I’m so sorry, I, I don’t know where that came from, it sounded much better in my headOHokay, okay.” He laughs as Barclay rumbles low, mouthing at his neck, “if you bite just do it below the collar.”

“Yeah, yeah, gonna mark you up, fuck” his cock bumps Joseph’s leg, smearing pre-cum along it, “babe, please, can I fuck you now?”

“Since you asked so nicely yes, you canAHnnnnnnfuckohmyfuckinggod.” He drops forward, head on the mattress as Barclay pushes in. They don’t get far before he winces, pointing at the bedside table, “lube, need lube, please.”

He keeps his eyes on the bed as wooden bangs and a pop reach his ears, Barclay pulling out to slick himself up.

“That’s like half the bottle, that should be good right?”

Joseph smiles, anticipation rippling up his spine, “There’s only one way to find out.”

The cock is just as overwhelming the second, Barclay building a steady, gradual rhythm of thrusts, going a little further on each one. The shaft is flared, so the deeper it gets, the more Joseph has to open his legs. When his knee slips in a stray bit of lube, Barclay’s hands drop to his thighs once more, keeping him upright.

“God” Barclay’s growls are whimpers now, his teeth tugging his ear and tongue lapping at his neck, “god, Joseph, you feel even better than I thought.”

“Been imagining this a lot big guy?’

“Uh huh.”

He reaches back, the angle awkward as he keeps his head facing forward, but finds Barclay’s cheek, stroking the soft fur, “me tooOOHh, that’s, that’s as far as it can go.”

“Fuck, a third of it is still out.”

“S-sorry”

“No it’s” A kiss to the top of his head “it’s so fucking hot, you’re so fucking perfect and you’re fucking straining to take me, I could fucking split you, gonna fill you up so much and so hard you’re gonna still be dripping when I come back tomorrow”

Now it’s his turn to whimper, the thought of a repeat performance making him dizzy with excitement. The intensity heightens every time Barclay touches him or nestles closer, every time he’s reminded of how big the monster is, how obviously strong. He’s right, he could tear Joseph to pieces if he wanted to. But instead his nose is once again at the base of his neck, praise and sweet, shy promises dripping down his back.

“Whatever you want babe, whatever you need, it’s yours, wanna take such good care of you, wanna make you mine.”

Joseph wiggles his hips, claws digging into them in reply, “then do it. I’ll tell you to stop if it’s too much.”

The next thrust shoves his bed six inches to the right, Joseph scrambling to hold on as the monster pounds into him. A moan winds its way out of his mouth, punctuated by shouts. Whenever he makes one of those, Barclay chuckles smugly and squeezes his thighs or his ass.

“That’s it, fuck, make noise for me babe, love hearing you feel good, want everyone to know you’re taken.”

“C-careful what you wish fofFUCK, if we get the cops called on us for this it’ll be mortifying.”

“Don't care, wanna hear you scream.” Claws scrape across his ass.

“AHGODyes, I know big guy, but if I have, have to explain that to my parents, I’m revoking your fucking privileges.”

A growl, teeth on his neck, “You wouldn’t dare”

“I would, so behaAAAAveemphh” He laughs into the palm now across his mouth, Barclay grunting with effort as he fucks him fast. A howlgrowlpurr floods the room and Joseph gasps, not anticipating the feeling of Barclay coming inside him.

The monster stays put, but loosens his grip and drops his hand in favor of roaming his fingers across the human’s body.

“Did, did that do it?” He wants to turn his had, wants to be able to see the answer on Barclays face, wants to do silly things like kiss him and gaze into his eyes as he comes down.

“Only kinda. I, uh, I wanna go again and this time I really, really, really wanna make you cum.”

He takes Barclay’s right hand, sliding it down to his dick, “Here, let me demonstrate.”

As he guides the slightly rough fingers at the correct pressure and angle, Barclay purrs louder and begins thrusting. Gradually, they’re surrounded by the twin, obscene sounds of fingers on slick skin and Barclay’s cock fucking his own cum back into the human.

Once he gets the gets the hang of the motion, Barclay nudges his hand out of the way to stroke him off alone, working his fingers in time with hips.

“I love feeling you like this, Joseph, fuck, please, wanna make you cum every day.”

“Pace yourself, big guy, f-focus on making me cum now, ohOHlord, fuck, fuck yes, like that, likethatlikethatohgod.” He slumps across the bed as the orgasm ripples through him, holds on for dear life as Barclay lets out a proud yip and proceeds to fuck him so vigorously he’s amazed he doesn’t chip a tooth.

This time, Barclay pulls out as soon as he finishes, cum dripping down Joseph's thighs onto a spot on the floor he will definitely be cleaning before tomorrow. Warm, furry weight leaves his back, replaced by Barclay’s fingers rubbing his shoulders.

“Um how, how did I do? Did you like it?”

“Was amazing.” He slurs into the pillows, “y’so good, Barclay.”

That rumbling purr again, a kiss on his cheek, “Close your eyes?’

He does, the thwip of the covers being turned down followed by strong arms scooping him up, setting him on the sheets and, after a short trip under the bed, cleaning off his legs before helping him back into his pajama pants.

“Joseph I, um, I just wanted to, um, to say thank you. I never thought you’d want me to do that with you and , and I just can’t believe you like me that.”

Feeling round, he finds his hand and holds it, “I wanted it more than I was ready to admit. I want you.”

“Can I stay and talk for awhile? Under the bed?”

“Of course, big guy.”

The next week is filled with normal days and strenuous, wonderful nights. Barclay fucks him into the bed once more, and when his parents are back in the house he and his monster get creative, using blankets on the floor, a makeshift blindfold, and a white noise machine. On one occasion, Joseph lays on his back on the bed, eyes shut and legs over Barclay’s shoulders as he eats him out with muffled sounds of joy.

When Friday night rolls around, Barclay surprises him.

“Babe? You feel like coming under the bed?”

He does, though he only fits through whatever magic of science allows Barclay to be there without being smooshed (or tipping his bed sideways). It’s dark, but the monster takes his hand, guiding him into a warmly lit room with a large bed, a bookcase, and a floor strewn with cookbooks. The longer he looks, the more he notices the area by the bed is dotted with candles and flowers, the nearby wall hung with little heart-shaped lights.

“I’m not supposed to be seen in the human world. But I didn’t see a rule about being seen in my own.”

Joseph turns.

Standing behind him is a figure with reddish brown fur, a humanish face, pointed ears, claws, and rather big feet. He’s dressed in a red flannel shirt and soft looking pants, deep brown eyes lit up like a supernova as he looks at the human.

“What do you think?” He rubs his arm with a shy smile.

“I think I’m the luckiest human in the world if you’ve been under my bed all these years.” Stepping forward, he takes the monsters hands, grinning up at him, “and you’re even hotter than I was picturing when we were, um, fucking this week.”

A blush is just visible under the fur on his cheeks, “aw, thanks babe. Both for that and for letting me spend my heat with you. That’s, uh, part of why I wanted you to come down here. After all that time in bed, I figured we should have a real date, even if it’s just a stay-in one. I meant all that stuff I said, Joseph; I wanna be so good to you, you have no idea.”

He raises an eyebrow, “I have some.”

“True. So, what do you say? Up for a first date?”

“Yes.” He tilts his head up, guides Barclay down by the chin and kisses him with the full force of years of accumulated affection, “but only after our first kiss.”

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #reader request #monster under the bed

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comebeonetwothree · 3 years

Text

Blog #8: Country Roads

07/13/2021

Currently driving through roads where pro-life billboards are placed in front of graveyards… we are officially on the road back home.

Traveling fast but seeing the most we have while covering 1,500 miles and two time zones in the last week. 900 miles to go. We jumped from Portland to northern and southern Montana then all the way through to Chicago… our last stop ;(

We met some really nice people out here- the kind of people that want to take time out of their day to interact with you. People actually smile at you and mean it when they say “have a good day.”

There were a lot of experiences this week that were indescribable. All senses were at full throttle from sleeping in the heart of Portland to camping in National Parks.

Being our last stretch of the trip, it has been hard to not feel sad when we are closing such a big chapter of our life. It’s a weird feeling of being sad but also still being so excited for the next stop. I hope the excitement doesn’t end.

Who

Who is ready to rumble…

In Portland we got to meet up with Maya’s cousin, Michael and his daughter Thea. He moved out there 13 years ago and never looked back.

He was telling us he did a similar trip with his college buddies back in the day and fell in love with the city, so moved there shortly after the trip.

Sounds fun, might fuck around and move…

Batman was ready to rumble, and fumble and everything in between. While whitewater rafting in Glacier National Park, we had the pleasure of riding with Batman The Guide. Batman, because you can’t change who you are but if you can always choose Batman.

He had been living in Montana for 17 years after moving from Oregon. He had previously worked in the park as a shuttle bus driver and recently switched over to a whitewater rafting instructor.

He was a funny fucking dude; the whole crew was super hyped but he had a comedic sense that made it an entertaining day.

While on the water, we were joking around and splashing the neighboring rafts, an independent rafter said they will bomb us with beers if we splash them. One of the other people on the boat yelled back, “Are they full beers?” and they responded by launching three full miller lite beers at our raft.

At the end of our tour, Batman gave us the three beers then we dedicated those three beers to him with a funnel.

More Friends!!! Its wild how many people we got to see throughout this trip. Hitting Yellowstone National Park, we met up with Mayas friends from home: Cole, Jamie and Declan.

They were just starting their cross-country trip from Nyack, NY, hitting the Northern route to the southern, vs our trip ending in the North. Funny coincident.

We camped out with them for two nights… it was too beautiful to just stay one night, so we pushed back our trip to badlands and stayed the extra night.

We were all out at this joint called Buffalo Bar, it had a great outdoor area with corn hole, ring toss and puppiesss. There is something so fulfilling in petting random dogs with a beer in your hand.

This one dog I was petting had an exceptional owner who was traveling him across states to bring him home. I spoke with the owner for quite a while, she was so friendly about letting me pet her dog. She really was doing it all, back at home she has three kids and two other dogs.

When people hear about our travels, their reactions usually make us realize how cool it is to have the opportunity to do a trip like this.

Many times they wish they did the same when they were our age, *cough, cough, go travel right now, cough, cough.*

This woman explained how she jumped right into working out of school and has always regretted it. Her children were already teenagers so I told her she should get out there and do it. Traveling her new dog home was a great start to the on-the-go lifestyle, she seemed to be enjoying it.

I later found out she picked up our tables tab… thank you Jennifer, you have a heart of gold and a generous soul. She explained her hopes that her kids will one day get out there and see the world like she always wished, and we were accomplishing. It was a pass it forward request, when I am able to cover the bill of a lovely traveling stranger. I hope I cross paths with this family eventually and pay it forward for her children that may travel.

What

What a reality…

The National Park pass is something you buy and are given access to all the national parks in the US. We got one in the beginning of the trip knowing we would be reaching quite a few parks. Unfortunately, we lost it after just seeing the Grand canyon.

It fell in a black hole… the area where your dashboard and windshield meet. Remember this when you put shit on the dashboard. It can slide right down to its death, the only way to get the shit out is by taking off the windshield.

Those passes are irreplaceable, of course.

In badlands, we posted up around 10 p.m. in our hammocks. It was a new experience for us, we thought hey its our last time camping, lets try it a new way.

We set our hammocks up underneath this podium and slept there. It was perfect for a quick and easy set up/clean up. There was a solid amount of people around us, so we weren't too worried about getting attacked by coyotes again.

Where

When driving to Portland we drove through the Redwood National Forest. This made me realize how long this Earth has been around.

Trees take a while to grow, and these trees were as thick as three full grown pine trees and as tall as two stacked on top of each other.

Neck breaking tall.

After crossing through, we hit the upper west coast and traveled on route 101 until we hit Portland. It was filled with jaw dropping views, so much so I woke Mary and Maya up every 5 minutes to show them the views. Most times it was the same view as before, just with a new massive rock to look at.

It was a relatively foggy day, so we couldn’t see certain lookout points, but there was something so majestic about the fog within the forests and hanging on the coast.

There were points where you cross over a bridge and there was nothing around you, just white. It appeared as being stuck in a dream or driving my bitchass to heaven.

Arriving in Portland, we stayed at a place in ChinaTown. It was so cute and located on top of a great deli, Charlie’s Deli.

We checked out a bunch of shops and stores while in Portland. While we were walking around, this coffee shop had the sweetest workers. They enjoyed interacting with their customers and weren’t just looking to take your money.

Portland is filled with mockingly friendly people, they weren’t mocking anyone though, they were just that fucking friendly. They actually want to converse with people... what a concept.

For dinner we went to this food truck pod place, which is about 15 different food trucks serving food, with a communal sitting area to eat the food.

We met up with Maya’s cousin there for a drink and to catch up.

Hitting Glacier National Park, we started our camping excursion. We started off sleeping in our car since we arrived late to our campground after driving 10 hours to get there. It was pretty comfortable and with the knowledge of bear attacks in the area, it was a secure place to sleep.

While in Glacier, we decided to go whitewater rafting, a whole new way of seeing the parks. It was so dope, the rapids were on the weak side since the heat waves.

After rafting, we found a great lake front public access point where we hung our hammocks up and took a nice long nap.

There are lakes EVERYWHERE here in Montana and great fishing! Let’s travel and fish all over Montana, okay? Cool.

We waited until 5 p.m. when the park lets you in without a pass, to do a sunset hike in the park. We took Going-to-the-sun road to the highline hike, where we got to see some wild animals!

In the parking lot we got to see a horned sheep (looks like a ram) and more mountain goats!! We saw three full grown goats and one baby goat.

This horned sheep actually stormed at us and we had to jump into our car. The people that parked in the spot before us left their cheetos on the ground. This guy was hungry as fuck I guess. Relentless to say the least.

This National Park is my new favorite spot-on Earth. Spread my ashes here. Moseying through the park was a full body experience.

All your senses are involved, the smells of the forest are beyond refreshing. The touch of the crisp air brings goosebumps to your skin, and the taste of wind in your face emphasizes the overload of oxygen in that area.

There are no commercialized areas for hours outside the park. Just a fuck ton of trees.

The sounds of different birds chirping harmonizes in your ears with the wind blowing and the rocks falling below you. Your sight is spiked the highest out of the senses. These views seemed so unreal they appeared fake. When you finally touch the grounds around you, you realize how really unreal this land is.

Heading to Yellowstone the following day brought a similar element of nostalgia. We camped right outside the park, on the state border lines of Wyoming and Idaho.

Our friends we stayed with luckily still had their national park pass, so we all took our car and got into the park early that next morning. We got to see some bison! Fun Fact: Bison and Buffalos are actually the same thing.

There were so many beautiful trees and hot springs throughout the park. So many cool colors to see. We also watched Old Faithful blow her hole!!

Getting to Badlands eventually, we got a campground directly in the park. Since we got there later than five it was free. We posted up our hammocks for our last night camping on the trip ;( when we woke up, the views were so cool.

Badlands is a shit ton of clay forming giant sandcastle hills all over. But there is so much green for a desert it was an interesting combination.

When

When can we shower…

We have completed so much of the drive home its wild. We stayed in an apartment for the first two nights in Portland and then spent the rest of the week camping.

We hit our record of days without a shower… 5 full ass days. I’m so proud of Mary and Maya, they really can’t stand being dirty.

When driving long ass 10 hour plus drives for a week you find yourself enjoying nothingness. Head empty is such a vibe after jamming to music and listening to murder mystery podcasts for hours on end.

Our music ranges widely, depending on crashing periods. Whenever Mary is driving, she is either blasting screamo edm music or 2000s pop music.

Maya plays some bomb bops; I really don’t know any of the songs, but it has opened my mind to all these new artists!!

I personally love the murder mystery podcasts, there were a few times I had to change it though because it got too spooky. In the case of this week, we were driving to camp in Montana and a murder mystery came on about the Montana Child Killer… dope.

Why

I have ruled out ever living in a city. From the driving on busy ass streets to the dirty smells everywhere, I will happily reside somewhere in the country. Where? Still have no idea… Why? Because there are so many pros and cons to all these places we saw.

I guess i'll just have to come back out here!

I’m really thinking somewhere up north on the west coast. The west coast will forever hold my heart, but I really don’t have the money or the ability to live in a city out there. Maybe one day with a bombass money making job.

Coming back to the East has made me realize how much nicer people are out west and how much slower of a pace it is.

How

How are we coming up on our last spot…

We are hitting our last stop… Chicago. Shoutout to my cousin for going to school here and letting us use and abuse his apartment! Hehe just kidding we will take care of it for ya, Owen!

It feels so strange to be this close to New York. Our license plates being from New York is no longer that cool.

I’m going to miss people peeping our plates and asking us about our travels and/or wishing us luck!

Thanks everyone throughout, we are almost accomplished with this chapter!

#blogging for beginners #fuck it #post grad #cross country #jubilation #travel #beginners guide #covid made me do it #road trip #bloggersdiaries

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radramblog · 3 years

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Every Mono-Black Commander, Part 4: Designed for the Format

In what will be the penultimate edition of this weekly word stream, the cards steadily on average get better, as WoTC realises commander is the most popular format and starts designing specifically for the format. On the other hand, people don’t play lots of these cool and interesting cards because everyone’s obsessed with “multicolour”, the cowards.

Moving on.

Sidis, Undead Vizier (245 decks, 25th most played)

Sidisi is one of those cards I’m surprised sees as much play as it does. Not because it’s bad, but because it seems to belong a lot better in the 99 than in the zone- they’re pretty much just a tutor with a body attached, after all. For a while, though, it was the only commander you could run that was a pure tutor, so if you were into just comboing people out it’s probably not a bad idea.

I think part of the reason I underrate this card is that I always assume it’s 6 mana. And it’s a lot better at 5 than it is at 6. And you can always just sacrifice itself if you really want your commander to just be an overpriced Diabolic Tutor.

Kothophed, Soul Hoarder (29 decks, 73rd most played)

I actually rate Kothophed a bit higher than I think most do. While as the 2nd of Lilliana’s demons he was obviously a fair bit weaker than the extremely banned Griselbrand, and the only one of the 4 not to be mythic, he does do a couple things really well.

For one, he draws a lot of cards. Things are going to the graveyard all the time, especially in multiplayer, and he makes the artifact/aristocrat decks think twice about popping off. The other is that he’s super cheap, at like 40 cents a pop. And I appreciate that, especially considering some of the cards surrounding him.

Liliana, Heretical Healer//Liliana, Defiant Necromancer (645 decks, 9th most played)

Baby Lilli herself looks a lot better than Ob Nixilis of the Black Oath as far as Planeswalker commanders goes, and it’s therefore unsurprising that she breaks the top 10. Everybody loves Planeswalkers, lots of people like Lilliana both as a card and a character, and the card that puts her in the zone is quite solid.

What does she do, though? Well, of the 6 Creature->Planeswalker transform cards, she’s one of the three that can theoretically flip the turn you play her without a haste effect (and Nicol Bolas is only on that list by technicality, because that’s a loooot of mana), and it’s not particularly hard to do so considering the colour she’s in. She then protects herself a little with a Zombie token and acts as basically a multiplayer-tuned Lilliana of the Veil, with a bigger number on her plus and minuses that better suit commander. This lets her work quite well for discard decks, reanimator decks, aristocrats decks, zombie decks, and of course, Lilliana decks. She’s just really solid overall, making up somewhat for the fragility of walkers in the format by being cheap and making herself a blocker.

Drana, Liberator of Malakir (82 decks, 49th most played)

Drana I guess could be used as a tribal or Voltron commander of some description, but to be frank, she’s here for one thing- aggro. Anthem effects are uncommon in black, and Drana just piles on so many counters in such an efficient manner that she kinda makes up for that on her own. I’ve actually never seen anyone piloting a Drana deck (of any of the three Dranas, actually), so I don’t know exactly how effective it is, but putting her at the helm of a stack of tokens or efficient threats just sounds scary. I’m pretty sure she’s only liberating Malakir from its remaining life points.

Kalitas, Traitor of Ghet (124 decks, 38th most played)

Kalitas seeing this much play…actually frustrates me, seeing as he’s basically just a hate piece. Like yeah, he has another ability, and he makes tokens, but come on. You’re just playing this for the exile clause, and it’s never going to make you any friends. Headcrab Vampire over here doesn’t do anything much if your opponents just wait til he’s off the field to do anything spicy, and in that case, what are you doing with him? Very inefficiently voltronning up? Gaining 3 life? It’s a bit sad. I don’t really like him.

Gonti, Lord of Luxury (550 decks, 11th most played)

Aww man, they’re not in the top 10 anymore? Fucking Tergrid.

Gonti is another card advantage commander, but everything on them lines up to make both a fun and a powerful effect. They’re not too expensive, and in addition to effectively drawing a card, deathtouch makes them a great way to dissuade attacks from other players. Their ETB not only acts as card selection, but it also gives you access to effects mono-black lacks, silver bullets you don’t play, or just surprise threats that vastly open up your options. They can whiff, sure, but that doesn’t happen especially often.

I’m biased, because my Gonti deck is among my favourite of my 100-card children, but Gonti is just such a fun commander that I don’t even mind the lack of direction they hand you. I run them as grindy valuey control, but they work great as the helm of flicker, theft, and even Aetherborn tribal decks as well. Just a stellar little commander.

Yahenni, Undying Partisan (306 decks, 21st most played)

Speaking of Aetherborn, Yahenni is also here, and I really appreciate that the two Aetherborn commanders we got are both really cool both in game and in the lore. Shame about most of the rest of the tribe being draft trash. Also, WoTC brought all sorts of old tribes back into the limelight for Commander Legends and the Modern Horizons sets, so where are the new Aetherborn at? Wizards pls.

Yahenni themselves is a pretty interesting commander. Their effects combine into a powerful package more subtle than their flavour text suggests- they not only are a threatening body, as a hasty commander that grows significantly as the game progresses, but they’re also incredibly sticky- a free sacrifice outlet that protects itself from most removal. They’re just a card where all the pieces come together just right, and I appreciate that a lot. One job and that’s aristocrats, but they’re good at it!

Bontu, the Glorified (59 decks, 57th most played)

When we finally got eyes on the Amonkhet gods, I think Bontu was my least favourite. Like, she’s hard to turn on, and has to be done repeatedly? A 3 mana 4/6 menace is a lot, but not enough to justify that in my opinion. And that activated ability is painfully mediocre.

At this point I like Kefnet less, but that’s just because I’ve cast him a bunch of times and I’m pretty sure he’s done nothing most of those times. Both of them are just kind of shithouse though. I expected more from the Magic equivalent of Set.

Razaketh, the Foulblooded (74 decks, 54th most played)

The only thing foul about Razaketh is that mana cost. 8 mana, holy shit. But you get paid off for it, don’t ya? A free-ish sac outlet that, oh, also just demonic tutors. If you have an infinite combo in your deck, this’ll get it.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Razaketh decks therefore get focussed pretty hard once people recognize the power in the zone. Like, running him as a commander is basically saying “sup once I get to 8 mana y’all are fucked”, and in that case people are going to do all they can to stop you getting to 8 mana, whether by blowing up your rocks or just killing your face and dudes. Perhaps consider an alternate route if you don’t like getting beaten up.

Spike, Tournament Grinder (N/A)

Aight, this is kinda cheating, but shshshsh it’s fine. Now, I’m not sure exactly how this works in the zone, but I’m just assuming it can get any “spikey” card that fits within your colour identity? Or maybe it’s just anything. Either way, this gets some bonkers shit.

Even if we assume it’s only legal commander cards in identity, Spike can still draw you some funny things. Dark Ritual, Crucible of Worlds, Bitterblossom, Demonic Tutor, Ancient Tomb, and that’s just the first page. If we do include commander-banned cards, then you can also use them as a spicy secret commander for such hits as Griselbrand, Emrakul, or Braids. Overall, they’re definitely fair and balanced. Un-Commanders when.

Tetzimoc, Primal Death (15 decks, 86th most played)

Oh, Tetzy. I love this stupid stupid card, one that seems to get worse the bigger the decks get. And by that I mean, it’s completely stupid broken in its original draft format, fringe playable in Standard at the time (and by that I mean… I mean I played it), and thoroughly mediocre in Commander. And that’s in the 99, because much like Haakon and Phage he doesn’t work in the zone. He’s a fair bit easier to enable than they are, but it’s for much, much less payoff. Alas poor Tetzimoc.

Demonlord Belzenlok (110 decks, 41st most played)

The last Lilliana contract demon, and the first Dominaria card of the 6 we got to talk about. Belzenlok’s ability is frustratingly awkward, however- while it will never draw you land, in my experience you’re rarely drawing more than two cards off it, and one is very common. Because the thing is, in order to support the dummy thick cards Belzenlok likes to see, you need a lot of cheap ramp and draw, which he does not like to see. And said ability takes up all the space on his textbox that could be used on other things. He’s basically okay, but I don’t see running this over basically any other demon.

I mean, he’s in my Gonti deck, but that’s besides the point, making a fatty and drawing cards is what that deck’s about.

Josu Vess, Lich Knight (69 decks, 55th most played)

Lilliana’s dead brother is an army in a can that packs a mean punch- 20 menace power is absolutely nothing to sneeze at- but 10 mana is monstrous. And casting him for 4 is just not worth it, especially since it makes that 10 into 12 next time. With that said, I recall once a Dominaria draft on arena where I used Muldrotha to cast this guy kicked twice in a row, and while this might just be magical Christmas land, getting to reroll this guy repeatedly with Disentomb effects might be spicy. You can just bury people in Zombies, ain’t that fun? I mean, it’s still 10 mana, so that’s a lot, but yknow

I guess you can also sac the tokens to some variety of altar, but that’s boooooring.

Torgaar, Famine Incarnate (99 decks, 44th most played)

Wait, if it’s Famine Incarnate, why is it an Avatar instead of an Incarnation?

I’m woefully unfamiliar with Torgaar, but it seems like a relatively effective general. It hits that 7 mark for a three-hit commander damage kill, while being able to cost as little as two mana, which is enough on its own- but that chunky power also helps with that second ability, setting someone to 20, assuming other people are willing to help pick up the slack. Fuck your infinite life combo, back down to the ground with the rest of us.

Honestly, this guy just looks really fun. It’s nice that in a pinch you can just have them gain you up to 19 life (or more I guess if you’re Platinum Angel-ing), and they don’t seem broken enough to garner hate. Not bad, potentially underrated.

Urguros, the Empty One (29 decks, 73rd most played)

On the other hand, I’m not sure why you’d pick this of all cards to head your deck. Looking at it, though, it’s mostly just Spectre tribal, which makes sense to me. Don’t think there’s another Legendary Spectre outside of changelings, though that would at least get you Blazing Spectre.

Shoutouts for Spectre being one of the words with different spelling in America that people don’t know about as well.

Urguros is not a powerful commander. They’re slow and their effect is weak. But if you’re running them, you don’t care about power, you care about creature type, and that’s fine too.

Whisper, Blood Liturgist (150 decks, 33rd most played)

Oh, ok. blood liturgist.

Jokes aside, Whisper is more popular than I would have expected. Considering they’re basically reverse Victimize, I’m surprised that people are so into them when that card exists.

Ohh, wait, there’s probably a bunch of infinites with this and Thornbite Staff, huh. Yeahhh, that scans. Though even outside of combo bullshit, I bet they get a bunch of fun value stuff with army-in-a-can-type creatures like Abhorrent Overlord and Sengir Autocrat. Shame about the stats.

Yargle, Glutton of Urborg (208 decks, 27th most played)

A literal vanilla creature, Yargle has overcome the odds to bargle into the hearts of many. The undeniable Best Frog Commander (Gitrog players do not interact), Yargle has clearly captured as many hearts as he’s eaten, considering he got his own Secret Lair filled with cards he can’t really play. His bit in the lore was also kind of hilarious, nearly killing all the protagonists until Muldrotha deus-ex-mythic rare-d him out of there.

The thing is, Yargle is not even that bad aside from the meme. He might be literally vanilla, butt he has 9 fucking power for 5 mana. He’s probably one of the cheapest creatures that breaches the 3-hit rule, and only needs 2 more to get down to 2. And 2 power isn’t super hard. Strap this bad boy with a sword or two and you can just gettem. Let alone the fact that he one-shots things with Tainted Strike. Or Grafted Exoskeleton. Or just about anything plus Fireshrieker. Unironically one of Mono-Black’s best Voltron options.

Isareth the Awakener (30 decks, 70th most played)

Skipping the Battlebond cards because…who plays Virtus or Regna solo… brings us to the painfully mediocre Isareth. A 3 mana 3/3 that lets you cast one thing from your yard, and only if she risks her own life. And you still have to pay for the reanimate. And it gets the exile clause as well. Man, this was the same cycle as Goreclaw and Sai, too. Hell, I even like Lena more after I designed a deck around her. This just sucks. Like, I cannot imagine playing this over Chainer or something.

The Haunt of Hightower (168 decks, 31st most played)

Speaking of Voltron, this Buy-a-Box exclusive is basically a self-sufficient beast of a flyer. Cards go into opponent’s graveyards all the time, and one mass mill effect makes this thing get huge fast as fuck. Add in lifelink so it keeps you going and all it’s really missing is the ability to protect itself, and there’re equipment for that.

On the other hand, it’s 6 mana and a 3/3 base, so if you aren’t able to get things in bins (or if a Rest in Peace/Leyline of the Void is out) it basically isn’t doing anything. And Flying is a much worse keyword in commander than one would think, being probably the most common Evasion mechanic. But I think this haunty boy is still solid.

God-Eternal Bontu (81 decks, 48th most played)

If only the rest of us could age so gracefully. Er, die so gracefully, I guess. Zombie Set is kind of a beating, turning all sorts of useless shash into pure cash. And she can go to your deck if the zone is getting too costly, and she’s a cool crocodile zombie god.

Unfortunately, she does suffer from being an ETB-effect commander, which always feels a bit more mid than I’d like- they do their thing and then just…sit there… and unlike Gonti she doesn’t deter attacks that well. She does attack pretty alright herself, but it’s only 5 power and can’t even trade with two 3/3s. And it’s harder to fuel this all-or-nothing kind of ability repeatedly. There are a few (crocodile?) rocks to use, as well as chump creatures that crave death, but fill your deck with those and that’s all you’ll draw. It’s…fine. She’s fine.

Massacre Girl (285 decks, 22nd most played)

The final card under the magnifying glass today, and probably still the best boardwipe/commander combo. Massacre Girl basically just kills everything, provided things aren’t too massive and there’s fodder around to bite the dust first. If anyone played Hearthstone back when I did, she’s basically a way, way better Defile.

Wait, that’s also a Magic name now isn’t it, shit.

I still think the notorious M.G. goes better in the deck than the zone, but I suppose control decks would appreciate having one of the things they crave most- board clears- available at a moment’s notice. And if you’re building around her, then you can fill your deck with the fodder that fuels her best. But I’m not sure where you win from there.

Ehhh, probably just Revel in Riches.

This brings us to the end of this edition of Black Commanders, and to the start of 2019. Which means the remaining 21 cards all came out in the last 2.5 years, which speaks a lot to how much they were designing cards for commander, and how many sets they’ve been coming out with. Until then.

#ramble #mtg #commander #edh #mono-black #this marks like the fifth time i've accidentally typed MTF instead of MTG #are my typos tryna tell me something?

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steponmepinkjun · 3 years

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I NEVER FINISHED MY STORY OMG. ok so i left off at being too proud to tell my friend she was right and kpop fucked hard. the difference between u and me is that i’m too good of a liar. too good. i kept up the “i hate kpop it’s cringe” facade for ALMOST TWO WHOLE YEARS, I SHIT YOU NOT. why? bc my dumb ass, extra ass, dramatic ass self thought “ok if i’m gonna have to deal with the embarrassment of admitting i’m wrong, i better do it in such an extra ass way it’ll knock ur socks off so hard that YOULL be the one embarrassed not me.” the original plan was to learn the entire choreography to bts dope, bc it’s the song that she told me to listen to and inevitably the song that got me into them, but later switched to bts fire bc i saw too many of those “choreo matches w any song” videos, and then her birthday party came up. and here’s the real kicker. her birthday is April Motherfuckin Fools. so it would be So Perfect for me to reveal my kpopism as a birthday present And a april fools prank in one. so i was Set on the Reveal being on april 1st, but the day rolls around and god that choreo is so fucking hard and i am Not a dancer. never have been. so i abandon that and go ykno what… i’ll do it Next Year. BC MY BITCHASS WAS LIKE NO THE MOMENT IS TOO PERFECT TO DO IT ON A NORMAL ASS DAY ITS GONNA BE ON APRIL FOOLS ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY OR NOT AT ALL. a year rolls by, i’ve told most of our friends except her and they’re all in on it, i’d made so many subtle kpop references to her without her realising they were fully intentional and had too many scares where she almost figured me out but i lied my way out of it, and i’d given up on showing off with choreography bc i couldn’t make that shit look good. i’m not a dancer. i am, however, a rapper, and a damn good one, so i inhaled the agust d mixtape and decided i’d just rap the eminem of kpop’s anthem at her face. in korean. and change the lyrics at the end (if u haven’t listened to agust d, the bridge repeats “i’m sorry” a lot) to “i’m sorry i kept this from u for so long” and “i’m sorry i actually ult got7 not bts” (this was like the april after skz debuted ok i was holding onto got7 for dear life knowing full well skz we’re going to convert me smh) and the best part? she never saw it coming. her official present was a cd with a bunch of kpop on it but she thought it was just a personalised mixtape for her so i told her to play the first song out loud and she knew the song Instantly. it has a long intro so she was like “i guess u did listen when i recommended u this song!! i knew you’d like it since u like rap so much!!” and then i started rapping and i shit u not. she started SCREAMING. like the initial reaction was her jaw dropping and then instinctively covering her mouth but when i kept going and she realised i wasn’t fucking around she just fucking screamed like a banshee. at the end during the sorry bit i threw off my jacket to reveal a got7 shirt on the inside and she fell off her chair and started rolling around on the floor. needless to say it was every bit as satisfying as i thought it’d be LMAOOOO afterwards her ass was like “I CANT BELIEVE U HID THIS FROM ME FOR OVER A YEAR” and when i tried to explain my ego couldn’t take the “i told u so” she was like “you know i wouldn’t have made fun of you for it right? i would just be glad you’re not hating on my boys anymore” so basically i’m a big dramatic fool and she was always too good for me.

don’t mind the weird spaces here my ipad is being all fucky wucky w me rn. damn sad to hear ur sideblog experience didn’t go so well, i’d have shown u the cool side of the fandom if i knew 😤😤 leading u thru the cursed halls of kpop stan tumblr like a sketchy tour guide that’s actually 3 small raccoons stacked on top of each other like a trench coat, like “over here we have the fanfic writers that honestly need to publish a book, over here we have the gif makers that are responsible for my entire camera roll, if we take a quick swerve past the death threat anons and the twt fanwar screenshots - mind ur feet bub the 14 year olds were tryna make a grab for ur ankles - ah here’s the holy grail of shitposts, you might be here for hours, to the right we have the weird aussie side of the fandom that projects our childhoods onto chanlix but also all the members as we decide what their life in australia would’ve been like, and down there is a secret trapdoor to the blogs w endless random headcanons that will make you laugh, cry or blush depending on if the author woke up and decided to choose violence today. enjoy your Stay!” but then again i’m not so active on tumblr anymore (ngl you’ve become the highlight of my tumblr experience these days, interaction wise,) so maybe all my Local Hotspots are inactive now. i know a bunch of them are, it’s sad. “i don’t fw stan twitter for the same reason i don’t hang out in meth dens” oop. guess i’m a meth addict. no but i get u i rly do, it’s a hellhole out there, but the fact that things get shared and spread a lot easier than on tumblr and how short most things have to be (therefor keeping up w my adhd attention span without having to resort to the mental torture that is tiktok, with the added bonus of not always needing headphones.) that i just. couldn’t leave if i tried. maybe i should try being active on tumblr again but it’s a dying site in comparison.

“their music doesn’t consistently hit for me as much as skz” i’m sorry we can’t be friends anymore. what. what. you don’t dramama ramama ramama hey? you don’t feel a little jealousyyyyyy, naega anin? you don’t shoot out, shoot out, shoot out, or aremdaeun love killa love killa? you can’t be your hero du du du du du du du du du dududu? u disappoint me. literally like everyone i know who likes skz music likes mx music like it’s a rite of Passage. they’re kindred spirits, monsta x music is like skz’s music’s cool but mildly heterosexual older brother. neither of them know what a bad song is it runs in the family. and both their music runs in my VEINS. whenever i describe my music taste they’re always the first two that come to mind, skz being my number 1 bc they are my best boys but mx bc of the Flavour. pls listen to the entire the code album then get back to me 😤🙌 ok but fr ur so right they are 7 of the finest men i ever seen (yes i say 7 bc i’m including wonho cause he deserved better and i’ll die on my ot7 bullshit.) like don’t get me started on them either LOL i LITERALLY downloaded that one insta video of changkyun working out his back n arm muscles w his tattoo showing bc i needed that shit saved for Science. they could do Anything w me like frfr. yes vixx is the bdsm contract group i’m telling ya they wildin. or at least they were. it’s been years since their last comeback idk what they’re doing anymore tbh. and yeah that makes sense, savouring the hyperfixation i feel it, but also i’m so attached to skz that i never let it die. like i hyperfixate on other things and other groups but i will Always go back to skz cause they’re my homeboys. hell, they’re my home. being a predebut stay i’ve spent more time w skz than most of my actual family members at this point. but that’s just me you do u boo xx just know that if ur anything like me ur never letting go once skz it’s been my longest lasting fixation cause they hit like Nothing Else Do. ik i’ve already said that but i cannot stress it enough. they’re really special. i’m gonna stop here before i get all sappy and emotional bc i really love those boys so fucking much and i don’t drop the L bomb often. SIDE NOTE I WOULD LIKE TO SEE UR LIST OF GROUPS RANKED BY THORSt. i need to judge ur Taste. and omg cat&dog is such a guilty pleasure song bc the lyrics make me cringe so much bc while pet play can be fun they be doing it in more of an “i’m an innocent soft dogboy uwu” kinda way that just Does Not Sit Right with me. it comes back to the objectifying of asians that asians themselves don’t help in industries like these and maybe i’m looking too far into it when rly it is just wholesome n cute or maybe they are into some pet play shit idk idc i will bop to the song regardless but i will not acknowledge the lyrics nope.

YOURE RIGHT THO SKZ’S OPENNESS IS IN FACT, A BIG DEAL, i’ll grab them for u if u want but i found these twt threads of skz supporting the lgbt community and i just felt a special kind of happiness man like sure the delusional part of me likes going “haha they’re gay” bc my brain likes to imagine them as my polycule of mlm boyfriends bc sometimes thats what gives me the serotonin to get me thru the day ok don’t judge but also bc it’s nice knowing that yes i’ll never know them personally, but at least i can support them knowing they’d respect my gender identity and my pronouns, they’d respect who i choose to love, and that’s already more than the general public can say so shit, it is special! it’s special that they don’t treat being cishet like the norm - they constantly remove gender from their songs and speech entirely, they don’t assume all stays are female anymore, we don’t talk abt the babygirls incident cause we got babystays in the end outta that ok, and it’s just. so refreshing and important to me bc i can’t get that anywhere else!! like my semi ults are the boyz and while i love them very much and there’s no way all 11 of them are straight i refuse, i do get just a little bit sad whenever they she/her their fandom by default and call them their girlfriends n shit even tho i do still identify as a girl, i’m also genderfluid/nonbinary/transmasc, and i have a very love/hate relationship w my womanhood and rarely use she/her pronouns, cause it’s like, do you not see me? see us? the ones who aren’t cishet women? i mean i know kevin does bc he congratulated a fan who came out as nb but it’s just not the same as the openness we get w skz. like how do i trust cishets i could be supporting them as a queer person when in reality they’d call me a slur. what would i know, behind the screen? so it’s so good that skz go the extra mile to make it a safe space for everyone. this is already long enough i will reply to the second half of that ask in another message… tomorrow cause it’s 1am and i’m tired gn -felix bi anon

I'mma have to start putting these under a readmore so that i don't absolutely make everything who is still following me for some reason go totally fucking insane 😂

NDJDHWJJAHFNAKBSJSBFBHHDBDNAJD YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE FACES I WAS MAKING READING THIS, I WAS FUCKING CACKLING AND GASPING EVERY OTHER SENTENCE SO HARD THAT I SCARED THE CATS NDJWHSHSB the fact that you went "oh you want me to get into kpop? Give me a hot minute, and I'll give you a whole ass private concert for free" biduehsjdbd biiiiiiiiiiitch you're a fucking ICON, I stg I could NEVER 😂 (and not just because I couldn't find a tune if you gave me a printed set of Google maps directions and that I embody the steriotype that white people can't dance, like my sister kept sensing me tiktoks of the whole "dance like a white girl" trend going lmfao look it's you and eventually I was like "sis please this trend has me feeling like being white is a disability and these mothafuckers are being ableist 😭 also I could NEVER be that on beat so yall ain't even doin it right 😭😭😭😭"). Tbh if I told one of my friends (lol what friends, i got jokes) to get into Skz and they showed up at my bday and performed the entirety of I Got It I would simply shower them in money and go "aight everyone else go home, you are no longer needed, you are being laid off, your position has been eliminated, we're downsizing, the company is moving up and you're moving out, you are not qualified for this role any longer, best of luck with future endeavors" 😊

I think part of the reason I can't deal w Twitter is the exact reason I refuse to leave tumblr, in that I've been on tumblr since 2006 and twt since 2008, and tumblr literally has not changed at all, not even a little, whereas going from the early days of twt where there were no corporate sponsorships or ads and you had to manually copy and paste someone's tweet and @ them to retweet it, to how it is now, like 90% ads and showing me shit from the timelines of people I don't even fuckin follow n whatnot, it's just not enjoyable. Idk how anyone finds anything on twt, it confuses and frustrates me because I am old and have not adapted well to technology changing 😂 But arguably, the skz fanbase doesn't want me on skztwt anyways so like it works for both of us lmfaooo. I am old and cringey, and also still think of twt as stream of consciousness whereas tumblr is your teenage bedroom where you can decorate the walls with anything that interests you. I do really love the nonsensical kpoptwt shitposts tho fhshsbdjjss like it is a very specific flavor of mental instability that I enjoy immensely 😂 OH and also I initially misread part of that and thought you were saying you actually irl do meth and I was like 😳 WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT. HOW DO I HANDLE THIS. Like how do I express like "I wasn't being judgy of people who use substances cause I've been there but I was just being insensitive 😳" And then went back and reread it and was like WHEW, IM JUST AN ILLITERATE FOOL 😂😂😂😂 ejeywhdhrhjwbfbdjshdhdhd I spent like an hour bwign like "IS THE REASON WE GET ALONG BECAUSE THEY'RE ON METH???? WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS INFORMATION??????" hrhehshe I am literally a fuckin idiot it's fine

It's not that I don't fw them, it's more like... Okay so like there is no situation in which I am going to skip a skz song if it comes on shuffle. You will not ever catch me NOT in the mood to listen to Sunshine, if God's Menu comes on we are THROWIN the meager amount of booty meat I got hither and thither, I could be in the happiest mood of my life but if Ex comes on I will stop to SOB. And I'm not like that with most music, so mx just falls into the category of "there is a time and place." Idk why but it just doesn't forcibly grab hold of my heart and ass the way skz always does. I really don't WANT my skz fixation to ever end, but I know that eventually it'll stop giving me dopamine bevause my brain is my worst fucking enemy 🙃 like my arcana fixation is to date the longest running hyperfixation I've ever had, going on almost three years, and I used to not be able to spend every single second of every day thinking about Asra, but now... I just feel nothing when I look at arcana stuff. As you can probz tell by the fact that I hardly post arcana anymore 😂 So I know that eventually all my happiness will end, it always does, I can never stay just as obsessed with something as I was for long. I CANT SHARE THE LIST BECAUSE I DONT *HAVE* TASTE YET 😭 I'm basically just compiling a list of any group someone tells me I should look into, ranked by how strong the kitty purred upon googling pics of them 😂 My mom read my ass to FILTH over txt lmfao she was like "they're not that adorable. Maybe your standard for adorableness has gone down with You Know Who still on hiatus 🤔" bfjwhdhd like MOMMAAAAA THE LIBRARY IS CLOSED 😂 she attacks me any time I even hint at stanning other groups, she is a skz purist and stans skz only, unofficial Momma Stay of All Stays keeping me in check lmfao.

I feel like skz really do follow thru on their promise that they're a safe space for stays, it's nice to see that they hold space for anyone and everyone in their fanbase and do it in a really simple and elegant way, I feel. Like they never make it seem like "okay here are the fans and here are the token weirdos that were only recognizing to make a buck off of them" the way a lot of artists make it feel like 😑 like they don't go out of their way to act like it's some revolutionary act to do the bare minimum of not shitting on certain parts of the fandom, if that makes sense. They feel very "yeah, of course we love all our stays, this is a welcoming space for literally anyone, that's how it should be, that should be normal," instead of like "Hi fans we love you 😊 and special shoutout to you ell gee bee tee folk, make sure to buy my rainbow merch after the show!!!" you know? Like, they're the friends who would never make you feel weird or different for some shit, the friends that take the attention off you if something they know ur sensitive about comes up, instead of weirdly snapping at whoever brought the unfomfy thing up which ruins the mood and makes you feel tiwce as bad, yk? They just give off this vibe that they, and the space they create with their music, is just a genuine and chill place to be and hang out and relax and bond. I feel like they'd be the friend group that is so goofy and sweet and silly and accepting and lovely and always makes you feel loved and excited to be alive 🥺 They are all good noodles 🥺🥺🥺

#felix-bi-anon #asksteppie

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