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lychniis · 3 months

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⚘— ( i ) AND THIS ALL CONSUMING HUNGER // JING YUAN.

i. SYNOPSIS : guides will be guides and men will be men. you've tested against madness and tempered the poison power brings. the general of the luofu is a new assignment and you swallow your fear. ( jing yuan x reader )

ii. WARNING(S) : was previously a long one shot but hey look, a part one to a tentative snapsot series hahahahaha i'm so inconsistent. allusions to workplace exploitation, guideverse au, sentinel jing yuan and guide reader, guys i promise i'll try to explain soon, a bit rushed imo and i hope to fix that in later parts, reader is not in the best place, pre-canon events, this goes a little farther back.

i. A BLACK HOLE. That is what the cloud knight called him as he led you down the long walk — endless, old and hungry; eternally hungry as it devours the moons and the stars and the very matter of space.

A black hole. The words rattle in your skull. It sparks alarm ( more than once ), of morbid thoughts and funerals without a body to grieve for. It makes you feel many, many things, and think of near insanity, and fingers that claw at sheets with a hunger that is never sated, a hunger that rends flesh and bone and grips at you with emaciated hands, begging begging begging.

You shrug it off with little success. Black holes were black holes, men were men and guides were guides. There was no place for fear in your line of work, not when you’ve gazed at madness in the eye and coaxed it away.

The knight looks at you with pity behind his visored helm. “You could always back off.” he offers, after a moment of tense silence. Your nails dig into your skin. Maybe he saw your anxiety. Maybe he smells it. Maybe he’s played this song and danced this dance so often he’s grown used to the jittering and the shuffling.

How many people has he seen off? How many of those faces returned with none of the brokenness? How many returned at all?

“I doubt that would be an appropriate thing to do.” you speak up, hating how raw you sound, how diminutive. It was the right thing to say. That company booklet says so, with its corporate graphics and white toothed smiles plastered on the cover. It screams the gradual rotting of old art and passion. It makes you miss your home world and the murals long painted over with billboard signs.

He shakes his head.

“The General holds no qualms in letting guides go. He encourages it, in fact…” his chipper attitude fades to a subdued sort of expectancy.

But we cannot, he almost says. This, this you know. He sounds reluctant in a way that is mired by guilt and entrenched in suffocating marshland, and his voice trembles with hidden desperation. Your hands twitch. A part of you wishes to indulge in cowardice for once, to run.

( Fool. Fool, you should leave. Walk away while the door is still open.

Fear holds no place here, you tell that voice sternly. It scuffles and spits. It wants to live, to keep living. It is a cornered animal with its teeth borne and its claws laid out. It was you, deep down and you despise it, this selfishness. You wished it erased away, bit by bit, piece by piece till its ashes were sifted to the floor and forgotten. )

He relaxes a bit when you don’t budge, satisfied with this seeming bravery, or wild idiocy. He pauses by the gates and hands you an ID card. There is a quiet beat; it’s like the world is dissolving, into static and incomprehension, like you were sinking too deep into something you’d rather stay away from. Your throat is parched. You wonder if you could ask for a drink of water before taking up your duties.

The cloud knight’s name was Yutie. He tells you he’s been the general’s guard for years uncountable. You don’t try to sum it up in your mind. To the Xianzhou natives, a decade was a passing moment. To you, it felt like eternity upon eternities.

“It’s never been this bad,” he explains, tapping at the keypad. The doors let out a mechanical whirr whirr whirr, like they were going to fall apart any second. He swears, slamming his fist on the device ( you were ashamed to admit you flinched — he looks a tad bit apologetic, at least ). They slide open easier this time. “The General usually keeps his health in check. The most he needs are top-ups to prevent any unnecessary accidents…”

Accidents.

Dead guides. Guides sucked dry, dry of everything, from their soul to their very essence to their life itself. Guides like you. Guides lulled in, offered money, offered a job, guides like you perhaps, at the cusp of desperation. What are you doing here, why did you agree to this —

“What changed?” you ask, drumming staccato against the surface of the card.

Yutie dips his head down. You see another flash of his gaze beneath his helmet and the faintest wisps of dark hair. “There was an expedition.” his tone softens. He sees demons beyond the world in front of him, the kind you see in your nightmares. “It was long, and painful…the General returned victorious, but he expended too much and now…”

Yutie swallows. You could practically feel the nervous energy buzzing off of him.

“...and now he’s like…this.” you finish helpfully.

“And now he’s like this.” he nods. “Will you help him?”

You purse your lips, and that twisting ache in your chest deepens into a gaping pit. A black hole. The word itself scares you. To you, it feels like something deep, empty, vast. It feels like sinking underwater, down trenches with no end. It feels stifling and it shrinks you down to something small and swallowable.

Men were men, guides were guides and fear was a passing glance. You shut your eyes and mutter it over and over. “I’ll try. I don’t know if I can…but I will try." It's a sincere enough effort, every trembling syllable hanging heavy like lead, like titanium. “I will try.” you repeat. You fool yourself into it. You repeat it, over and over. You will try, you will try, you will try.

He looks down. You feel the nervousness break away and fragment into a somber hint, and a hopeful one. You wonder what kind of man Jing Yuan may be for his guard to care about him so.

You hope he is kind.

Aeons, you hope he is kind.

ii. YOU FEEL IT BEFORE you see it, the cloying smokiness, the stench of ozone, the buzz against your skin. It was lightning in a bottle set loose, the beginnings of a storm, a hurricane that could rattle the roofs of houses and blow away trees from their roots. It was danger, and your throat burns against it.

Help him, that part of you screams as instinct overtakes fear. You don’t have to look at him to know the extent of his corruption — not with how cold his hand was when you took it. Not with how you tremble beneath that shuddering weight and push past the initial barrier. It slips and pushes you back, once, twice, thrice. You wheedle your way in, grabbing at whatever you could find.

What you find is emptiness.

You panic. You feel tugged and frayed at the corners. You feel like you’re unraveling —

— you keep going, your fingers pressed against his palm as your essence filters through.

You don’t want to look at the pale faced illness that would have settled over him or the fragility his bones move with. That was always the hardest part, crying for the ones you could never save, letting their faces creep into your mind at night. You do not want to give him a face. You do not want him to haunt you, if this twists into something unwantable.

( You could die too. The thought springs forth like a scathing mockery. It smiles — if thoughts could smile — and it bears a sharp toothed edge to it. You stop thinking immediately, no no no, no more of that. )

He devours it, then demands more, more, more. You don’t have more. You doubt you have more, and you, a fool and bleeding heart in its pathetic entirety — you let him take.

Reality begins slipping into a jumbled mess of shapes and words. You tamp down the deluge. Your head feels light, and you feel heavy. For a moment, you imagine the stars in front of you, and hurtling through space watching constellations being rendered down and broken apart.

A hand fixes round your wrist. The grasp is clumsy, weak yet warm against your skin ( and it’s gentle and it’s kind. You want to tear it off of you. You want to cry and cling to it ). The line is severed and you double over, your breaths strained, haggard like someone untangled that painful web growing in your chest. You think you taste iron in your mouth.

“Enough.” There is a finality in the way he speaks and you obey, stunned and dissonant. When you look up, the General is staring back, the gold in his eyes, hazy, sickly though tugged free of the madness. He hasn’t recovered, not fully — he was still a smeared painting in that sense with none of that fine refining or rendering. A face still legible, still knowable but lost in its definition and depth.

Oh…oh, you wonder how he dares to still be so beautiful.

Harsh aureate softens to mellow honey. His fingers brush against your palm, the touch featherlight, the brush of wings against skin. “You have done enough.” he says, softly, gently. “Go, get some rest.”

The manual sinks at the back of your eyes, all clinical white smiles and lifeless art. Their instructions were drilled in like second instinct, like some sick mantra. “I haven’t — ” you barely let the words out. You were tired. You want to sleep.

“Go.” he repeats ( stop being so insistent, you nearly snap. Your voice crackles and crumbles — thankfully ). “We can talk later.”

There were parts of you that were tugged at with phantom hands, parts you never wished to be torn at. For a moment, you stand, your mind nothing but hazy static. He looks apologetic. The situation sinks in, the hunger, a black hole. That visceral feeling in your gut, the surreality, the terror.

You had almost died.

Bitten lips part. A choked cry tumbles out. It’s numb emptiness. It’s everything at once.

You almost died.

It settles in thick and you feel parts of you fall away, left behind in that room. You hear attendants call out in worry as they fuss over the man. You feel Yutie’s hand on your back. You look back and see the chasmous guilt in Jing Yuan. An attendant says something. He smiles, nods, pulling on an air so free of distress — you wish you were a good liar like him. Maybe you could lie to yourself and think of a you and a life that didn’t feel so empty.

The glimpse is gone. You see walls now. His voice fades away as the distance grows.

“Thank you.” says Yutie. There is a silent awe in the way he speaks to you, like you were some godling sent from the heavens itself. You do not understand that — you were only doing your job. But you also see why too. He was kind. He was kind in a way you had least expected and he was tender, so painfully tender. General Jing Yuan is the Luofu’s beloved in that sense and to care for a man like him was no surprise.

( It’s loyalty, the type of loyalty so deeply ingrained into their bones and their instincts — an iron that refuses to rust. It is impressive, you mindfully nod at this, just a little touched at the sight. At least someone was loved. It may not be you, but it was still someone, and it lets you see that the universe, no matter the horrors it holds beneath it;s shroud, was still capable of the kinder, tender things. )

Despite that, the sinking feeling remains. Your contract wasn’t finished with. You had a long way to go. That iciness returns. It’s constricting around your neck. It does not leave. Death had left its mark on you, a permanent reminder of your fragility.

You know what it was, your old friend, a bedmate, a shadow hovering over your shoulders and taking and tearing and grinning as it sets fire to what sanity you hold close. It holds the ashes. It scatters them and laughs.

You do not utter its name. Demons had a nasty habit of showing their faces when called.

iii. THE NEXT DAY, you don a coat, lock your room door and head back to Jing Yuan’s estate from Petrichor Inn. The Luofu’s nightlife has bled away to silence and the world feels asleep around you. You try not to make a sound lest you disturb it; it feels like something you had little right to tread upon this stillness with heavy footfalls.

Yesterday repeats itself. You meet Yutie at the entrance. He hands you your ID. He leads you to Jing Yuan. He stays behind at the doorway and gives you an encouraging nod. You curl your fingers and take a step in, incense stimulating the senses — it eases you a bit. It smells nice. It smells familiar ( jasmine and hibiscus and sandalwood ).

He’s awake. You wonder if he’s slept at all ( he’s not, with the way his shoulders slope ). Your muscles itch. The air is still saturated with that uncomfortable buzz. It’s less staggering, less like the upended chaos that stormed through placidity and more like a subtle shift, the waves slowly creeping up with the onset of the coming tide.

Breathe.

He’s smiling at you. That is good. It is better than latent annoyance. It is better than that voracity.

“Good morning.” You greet. You gather yourself and your lips tug at the corners. It was a professional, distant, but it;s a smile of your own.

“Good morning.” He hums. “Have you eaten?”

A strange thing to ask right off the bat, but the small talk between the awkward silence is a buffer you welcome. Anything to lay in the incoming conversation as gently as possible ( you brace yourself. You tell yourself to be brave, be brave, be brave ). “Not yet.” you admit. “I’d like to see this through first.”

“Your payment?” Jing Yuan wasn’t being rude with the context at hand. You still stiffen. It’s instinctive, and you despise how it makes your hands cold like fractured ice and stale snow.

“Your guiding.” You clarify, stilling the tremble. “You're…in need of some more help if you wish to make a quicker recovery. I could help schedule some appointments during my stay here.”

He considers you with a cool look. You feel like a butterfly gutted through and pinned up to be ogled at. “You hardly seem eager to take that stand yourself.” he notes with a wry tilt to his head.

You’d have argued back at his response, but his shrewdness claws away the words and leaves you gaping at his bedside. Jing Yuan peers down at his sheets, then shuts his eyes. There is an impatient twitch to his fingers. You wonder if he wants to strangle someone ( or maybe it’s you. Maybe you feel stripped away raw and your only instinct was to scream ).

Your chest rises and falls. “If there is any issue you have with me, I could put a word in and call another guide.” An innocent suggestion, uttered too quickly. You want to wince.

“No, no, it’s not you.” He’s quick to shut it down. There is a mixed amusement there, tugging at his lips. It’s like he knows something you don’t, or sees something you can’t. It’s frustrating. “Heavens, it's not you at all. Your performance was hardly what I’d call subpar…” you wait for the ‘but’.

“...but I am sure you are aware that I'll suck you dry, yes?” Yes you were, and even you were selfishly terrified of death ( and you feel stupid. So stupid ). Jing Yuan could smell fear, it was a blatant point to him, something you chide yourself for ( you should have hidden it away better ) — and his offer for freedom, ah it was tempting. You could walk away now and wash your hands of it. You could leave this behind and think little of it.

…at least until your boss brings about the questions. The chiding. The reminders, your training. It makes you feel sick.

( There is something else too.

Perhaps a naive voice, a young child who once told someone they wanted to help people. A child from a world before the strain, the strife, the hours overtime — where greed was never quite a concept beyond wanting more chocolate after dinner. )

“I’m not sure if I'm in the position to refuse.” you admit. “I’m under contract. Your recovery is of utmost importance and I cannot afford any violations.” It’s the tamest way you could lay out your reasoning. You don’t want to get into the messier details, where the ink bleeds and splatters through the pages. Those are the parts most try hiding.

He softens up. There’s less of a regimented edge to him. You relax your shoulders, let your nerves soothe. “So you’ll stay.” he says this with a heavy sort of acceptance. You catch a taste of melancholy ( bitter, like dark chocolate ). “In that case, you may proceed.”

“Alright.” you patter closer and pull up a chair next to him. Jing Yuan watches you; he always watches you and your jittering returns as the seconds tick by. The clock feels a little too loud. The lights feel a little too bright. He holds out his arm. You smooth your fingers over his skin, feel the tautness of muscle and the faint brittleness of bones underneath.

( Alive. )

Your thumb stops above his pulse. It’s beating fast — a little too fast. “You’re nervous.” you whisper.

“Am I?” he smiles. His pulse slows as he breathes. Shrewd man.

“You’re still nervous.” you point out. “You’re just good at hiding it.” He chuckles. The sun seems to reflect in his eyes. It would be easy to consider him something else, something a little less human. But you feel his warmth in your hands. You feel his pulse and you try smiling. It’s gentle, as gentle as you could muster forth. “It’s alright. You can try talking about things. They’re good distractions.”

Jing Yuan only seems more amused. “You’re acting like I'm a petulant child. In my experience, guiding is far more pleasant than say, needles poking at flesh.” ( He turns his hand over and the feel of his pulse slips away. His fingertips are calloused. There are no scars. The Xianzhou natives never live with those. )

You often wonder what it’s like to receive it, guiding. Then you banish those thoughts. They are not yours, never yours to mull over beneath the eyes of the night.

His eyes slip shut. You fall into the void, feel the devouring beneath the surface with its too tight grasp and the hunger it holds. Your chest stirs. You guide him.

iv. HIS MONOLOGUE :

There is touching. More touching than what he’s used to. And it’s not enough, never enough. It’s fleeting, featherlight. He’d call it that sensation — in how a plum blossom would fall, would brush against his cheek. In how the rain patters against his hair.

He watches you. It’s interesting, he reasons, between the whitewashed walls of his room and the creaking of his bed. Your eyes barely meet his. Your hands, they flutter over his arm, over his pulse. It’s surgical, precise, he’s tugged apart and opened and he tries to think of the things you might see as you slip inside.

Gentle. You’re gentle. Jing Yuan feels you hold his soul. It’s warm. The monster stills. Some of that creeping emptiness disappears. There was a dissonance there, once upon a time. It was devastation and it was a weight. Jing Yuan despised it, despised its cries, despised how it took more than it should.

He feels light.

When you pull away, he feels greedy. He almost asks you to come back ( to stay, maybe a little longer, maybe forever ).

You’re tired. There is a newer burden, a newer nervousness dragging you down. Jing Yuan watches you leave. A bitterness floods his tongue, edged with iron.

( Stay. )

❪⠀🎬⠀❫ AINE SPEAKS ;;

"aine it's been ages, are you on hiatus?" "nah i'm just lazy."

so my ideas and concepts for this au basically peaked, spilled over and i settled on the horrifying thought that this cannot be a single oneshot anymore.

so uh, hey here's a snapshot series. there's no actual plot to it, thank god ( you ;long fic writers...you awe and scare me ) but i plan on writing a few tied in oneshots here and there when i feel like to expand on it. consider this in introductory post??? a meet cute.

now to clear the air, what is guideverse? okay so it's kind of an au where there are sentinels, beings with supernatural power juice and guides who make sure the sentinels don't get too drunk on the supernatural power juice and do an oopsie.

that's the most barebones way of explaining it, but there are a few writers who have explained it better i think XD. in short, guides calm sentinels down and stop them from corrupting. in this case, the reader tends to the mara encroaching on jing. yes yes.

in the famous words of shaoji, don't worry "this story will be heartwarming and wholesome :))))))." trust me bro. my sources are so valid.

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill this form up!

taglist — @dustofthedailylife @meimeimeirin @silentmoths @crystalflygeo @ofoceansandtombsanew @ollieink @chiyoso @hleb-chan-sky @thesparklingwriter @localplaguenurse @khxii-i @laughterofthetombs @euniveve @meritamiau @achy-boo @dumbitchpdf @timeofsilversstuff @pearlsxandxpeonies @francisnyx @cynicalmusings @iridescene

AINE | 2024. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.

#&&. my writing !!#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #x reader #jing yuan x y/n #my god guys this took way too long to finish lol #help help XD #i'm done though thank god #guideverse #guideverse x reader

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hollow-ghost-fire · 5 days

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The thing about Bonnie and Clyde is it really shows that Women's dreams are often pushed aside for men's.

A scene later we see Bonnie expressing her dreams. She never wanted this life. And we have this young man Clyde starting off with boyish fantasies. Gradually we see more of him in picture show, his part becomes the focus and soon they're belting together at the end. As if they're competing for their dream to win. Ofcourse Bonnie is more desperate later on in the song when she realises she's got to pull strings to get anywhere.

In "this world will remember me" Clyde charms her with compliments to get what he wants. It's a recurring theme. "Destined to be in movies" gets her on his side in contrast to "it's too late to turn back": "I don't give a damn about Hollywood" where he dismisses her dream completely.

To compliment her character arhe her outfit changed from a girlish pink to an ambitious red to a black dress. She's lost her light as she finds more expensive clothes that only fill the hole.

Ofcourse this is only part of the manipulation. Bribing her into joining his travels in a promise of Hollywood. He knows even if they tread into the next state they'd be prisoners.

In "dying ain't so bad" + it's reprise. We see how Bonnie's priorities have shifted. He's made her dependent of her as he is on her. Her dreams have died and the only option is her death. She even accepts it long before him. He has the childish fantasies and she's grown up. Grown up knowing dreams aren't true.

She drops her poems, the very part of her that she's proudest of. The last part of her dream. The thing that served as her coping for years, discarded along with everything else (her family, friends, security, dreams,) and she chooses him. She chooses a love she was too afraid to step away from and that will drive her to her death.

He's changed her. He's broken every single one of her dreams for his childish fantasies that leave them running forever. She also paid the price.

- second essay:

Another thing to add about dreams being snatched:

Clyde is a criminal painted in blood, the way the system works every person he touches stains with the label, given the basic fact any person who cared would attempt to save a man from torture.

There is another factor of the setting. They dream in a more enlightened age of the 1920's to when they grow up becomes the great depression. Both their dreams suffer in this age.

He turns to crime as many people in poverty do. Stuck under the label and treatment he can't resolve his label. The paradox of the prison system lays out. Each accomplice to aiding him becomes another criminal. This is how they control people.

To ask god's forgiveness is something each person seaks in the musical. Through prison time (buck), through prayer (blanche). They are promised. Yet in "made in America" the preacher retracts his statement with "you can not buy your soul back" god don't make that kind of deal", dissolving his "god's arms are always open" so at the core forgiveness from god is an illusion the prison system made to them to guilt trip each to obey a society they can't survive in in if they do not obey they will be punished). This is how rich people in power seize power

(okay I'm tired now idk why I'm writing this. I could deffo place some maslow, power index theory of this was a psychology essay but the main point I wanted to make was how well the musical portrays the prison system as a tool to obey and comply to corrupt authorities of power. It's a endless lesson.)

Ps. I haven't checked this through so I may have accidentally said something wrong

#bonnie and clyde musical #bonnie and clyde #bonnie parker #clyde barrow

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anahira · 2 years

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Sugar Refinery - Marauders Era AU

Part 2 : Pandora in Wonderland

Pandora had found refuge in the small library of the Marauders&Co’s motel. She was finally in a peaceful place, without all those people and their constant noisiness surrounding her. She had the nagging feeling that being constantly exposed to it was making her lose her mind, like an endless carousel, which’s off button she’d have lost.

Here, the only sound was Beethoven’s background music, the only smell was a light mix of cotton candy and ancient books, spotted by an ounce of sportsman’s sweat. She had lit a few candles, to create a more private atmosphere, she felt good here.

Today, she was in the mood to read a far-fetched muggle tale: Alice in Wonderland, was one of her favourites. Her father used to read it to her at bedtime to help her fall in Morpheus’ arms, she knew it word for word but it never failed to bring her comfort.

However, today, Pandora wanted to combine this old habit with something far newer, something she had never tried. She had learned some time ago that her good friend Remus, was a dealer in his free time, to be able to afford Christmas presents for his friend. He had given a sample of his merchandise, confessing that as strong as it was, it would melt into her mind easily and calm her brain. She wanted to try it, it wouldn’t cost her anything, and she was safe here. She was beginning to feel inside of her the anticipation of the unknown, she had been holding the single pill in her hand for a few minutes. Unsure of what she was doing and of the consequences it would have on her life, she quickly swallowed it.

In the first few instants, she simply read her book, uncaring of the effects. She felt at peace, she didn't feel any pressure from the outside. She was even thinking of buying Remus a couple more of these little things every now and then to get some peace and quiet in her life at Hogwarts. She was reaching the second chapter when she started to get a strange feeling. She was feeling a lot of things at the same time without knowing how to describe them. Everything was vague. She felt like she was getting smaller and smaller and moving further and further back. Soon she could only see the hundreds of old books through two enormous circular holes. Everything else was black, except for a spot just behind her, where some kind of light was beckoning her to follow it. She thought of it as Tinkerbell for a moment and it made her laugh.

She felt as if she had been walking for hours through these galleries, following the little light. She had seen various things that looked familiar but she couldn't quite put her finger on them. Everything seemed far away.

In a moment she found herself in front of a closed oak door. The small light had dissolved, the only light left emanating from the cracks in the door. Without really knowing why, she took a deep breath before slowly pushing the handle down. The door opened with a shrill creak and she froze in incomprehension at what was unfolding before her eyes. A little girl with golden hair was standing with her back to her and Pandora could see a huge book in her hands. She recognised it, not just the book, but the scene. She had already experienced it. She could see herself at four years old in her father's library after a doctor's appointment, being told of her diagnosis: autism.

When she was told this, she didn't understand. She didn't know what it meant, but she saw her mother's eyes fill with sadness and pity. That book the little girl was holding was a book about autism. This book had been of no use to her at all, and even today she thought that she would have been better off never touching it. In it, you could read that people with autism were just good-for-nothing individuals, completely incapable of living in society. The scene suddenly blurred and various colours began to dance before her eyes, green, pink, purple. Gradually she managed to make out a few shapes. People, several people. They were in the snow, playing like children, but they looked more like teenagers. Concentrating a bit, she recognised Hogwarts behind them.

They were her friends. Despite the challenging eyesight, she recognised them, they were the only ones playing in the snow in their shirts in the middle of winter. But no matter how hard she concentrated she couldn't make out their expressions, as if it had been all erased.

She wished to stay here a little longer to try and understand, she had not understood anything since the beginning of this adventure. But within a few seconds, she was suddenly drawn out of the scene, through the dark galleries and finally to the two huge empty eye sockets. Hands waved angrily in front of them. She regained her human size and came back to herself, as if nothing had happened.

- "Ah, Pandora! At last. I thought you were slipping through my fingers." exclaimed the person in front of her, who she recognized quite easily, despite her eyes struggling to stay open: Peter.

- "Sorry, I must have dozed off", she said with a slight laugh.

She never really understood what had happened, but she promised herself never to touch Remus' products again. She was far too afraid of what she would find if she went any deeper.

Written in colaboration with @belovedbastardremus

#the marauders era #the marauders #marauders era #marauders era au #pandora lovegood #use of drugs #dealer!remus #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #alice in wonderland

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atoasttotheendoftheworld · 2 years

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As the vermilion glow of another tragedy cruelly colored the present again, then Kakashi saw the obvious that had been there all along. The light, that lantern he feigned not to see, constantly right before him, imploded before his eyes in a whirlwind of realization that swept cowardice aside just to flood him with dread. In a blast louder than any other, the life force surpassed him, for the first time, and the last, to dazzle the whole world solely to carry all the light away with it and leave the deepest darkness behind. The utterly paralyzing void Kakashi had ever felt. The freezing darkness, absolute, over him. The eternal winter to descend upon him. And all the flowers sprouted that Kakahsi pretended not to see perished that day, in a frostbitten meadow. All has been silent and deafening ever since. The cold Kakashi feels is not as it once was, it now burns inside. Lacerating in the cadential repetition of mechanically static sounds, punctuating time passing without any more value. That same pathetic worthlessness that Kakashi felt years ago, coming back to smother him. To remind him, once again, that he is left alone. Calling him guilty, stupidly distracted by ghosts he has made even the living so. And the grief, this time, is not confused numbness. This time, it is excruciatingly piercing to the depths of the soul. He no longer has the excuse of young age or ignorance of the world and all the adult things of life, that he had at the time. He only has the blame, the same, yet even more insurmountable, of having been a blind masochist. His ultimate torture, his final condemnation. That of blindfolding himself to everything, purely to then feel his eyes burning with denied truth in a world gone too dull and too silent. Even ghosts cease to haunt him, in his final curse. Merely the nothingness of the slowly slipping into a survival that is losing meaning in an apathetic frost, amid sharp stalactites cutting inside, gradually and steadily, until all remaining energy will be drained out in a mercilessly slow exsanguination. To feel the cruelly aching longing. To suffer the horrifyingly agonizing absence of noise. The same one Kakashi claimed he didn't wanted. That was hard to bear, he said lying, staring into black eyes. Hurting them and wounding himself. Just to realize, now even better, how hideously filled with suffocating blame and condemnation the silence in his life really always been. Just how it is even more now that there is nothing but an already dissolving echo of the only voice that has ever sounded as life to him. And the terrible fear that, someday, he will end up forgetting that sound weighs horribly heavily on him. On his eyelids, on his lungs, on his heart, and deeper than that. It drags him down, to a bottom that seems endless. To float above a black hole sounding like an end to everything. And close his eyes, this time, is merely a sliding further down into that void. To see glimpses of gravestones and graveyards full of too many names and too many souls laid to rest too young. To see flickers of images, ever the same, of sorrowful funeral scenes in mournful sounds. Overlapping in red eyes of regrets and white smiles vanishing behind flames. Leaving his hands stained with vermilion ash in thunders resounding with remorse. And every time something implodes, on the brink of that black hole, as Kakashi trembles and teeters, caught between wishing to fall and having to rise. Hovering on a too-thin rope, it all feels like one final dreadful punishment before this curse called life comes to an end. The ultimate struggle. The final one. The last.

"Worst challenge… to survive you…I cant - Gai…I can't… please - I don't want to win this. Not this way."

#kakagai #kakashi hatake #maito gai #wip stuff #kinda angsty #kinda depressing #kinda shitty #writing #current wip #wip #naruto series #naruto #idk if it makes sense #i hope it does #english is not my native language #kakashi x gai #gai x kakashi #ok bye

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an-annyeoing-writer · 3 years

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vulnerability. – chap. 3.

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 29th July 2021

Word count: 4 219

Warnings: none

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi–kpop–fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @devotedexolnhottest @mingxia-nikki04 @velvetjongin @ssssssul (won't let me tag you T_T) @nemi-mei @buttercupbbh

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you’re shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Chap. 2.)

Chap. 3.

The tension that appeared the moment you received the phone call from Baekhyun did not dissolve with time. In fact, the opposite happened – it grew as the time passed, and as Saturday came closer and closer. Finally, once your Friday to Saturday night shift came to an end and you stumbled into your flat around 4 in the morning, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep easily. Yet, you forced a whole cup of green tea into yourself in an attempt to soothe your nerves before sleep. Your alarm was set for noon, and you were supposed to meet at 3 PM.

You woke up feeling energized, but you knew this pattern all too well already – the tiredness would come and hit you with its whole power the day after, and you’d spend Sunday sluggish and drained. But that was okay, because Sunday didn’t matter half as much as Saturday did.

You felt a small urge to dress up; even more, actually, you felt a need to pay attention to details rather than looking fine at the first glance. Some common sense hyped up by years of watching other people and reading stories – a thorough shower, shaving, paying attention to not only what you wore outside, but also your undergarments. You lacked things that could be considered “sexy”, but – let’s face it – you didn’t think it mattered much; not after what you’d found out so far. Yet, it would be a shame if your panties had a hole in them. Wearing something neutral, but fresh was your best bet. Every few minutes, you kept reminding yourself – you don’t even know what will happen, you don’t even know if anything will happen at all. There was no reason to think that he’ll want you to undress in the first place, you said it yourself that you’re not ready for sex.

But then, it still helped you gather confidence that you definitely needed at a moment like that. Details allowed one less thing to worry about, and a better ability to focus on others, and so, you made sure the details were worked out well, and that you didn’t overdress, either; a beige shirt and jeans, all wrapped up with sneakers and another knitted cardigan of yours – neutral and polite, maybe a bit school-ish, but these were the things you mostly wore on daily basis, and you felt that going in the other direction – of tight pants, mini-skirts and see-through shirts – would not be appreciated. Your hair was pulled up into a loose bun, nothing like the ones you admired in YT tutorials, but the best you could do on your own. Maybe it was the age difference that made you feel obliged to show respect rather than expose yourself. You trusted your instinct on that, and so far, nothing happened yet to prove it wrong. The weather was starting to get warmer; these days were particularly sunny and dry, so you felt at ease without an extra jacket. It couldn’t get that bad in the evening, and you put faith in your cardigan.

Baekhyun must have thought similarly.

You stood in the bar’s entry, looking up at him for a moment; he leaned back into his usual couch, not aware of your presence just yet. He was wearing a black button-up and jeans as well, something he still looked pretty well put-together in, but not too formal – similar to your own thought process, noticeably.

You inhaled deeply, and took your time to exhale the air – until you felt ready to walk up to him.

“Hi there” he spoke as you approached his couch; as expected, he was there alone today.

“Hi there” you replied with a slight nod and a smile; your voice was quiet, as quiet as it could be without trembling in anticipation.

“You want to drink something before we go?”

You considered it for a second, and then nodded again. Baekhyun moved a bit to the side, encouraging you to join him on the couch, and you took the offer with gratitude.

“Beer? I don’t want to get you drunk, but we may sit here for a bit just to relax.”

“You can tell I need it?”

“Yes. I can tell. Your shoulders are very tense. May I?”

His hand reached to your shoulder and you nodded slightly, a bit unsure what you agreed to just yet.

He suddenly squeezed your muscle, and you whimpered. He kneaded it, and you found the tension dissolving gradually as he went on. Even with only one hand and unfavorable position, he managed to find some of the spots that required touch; that touch was welcome, slight pain coming along with it was desired for the best outcome. You didn’t notice when Baekhyun must have given the bartender some sort of a sign, but the man soon came with a beer and water that he put on the nearby table. That was when Baekhyun’s movement slowly ceased, cautiously letting go of your shoulders. You felt as if you were in a different body, the tension in your body almost gone, just as the one in your mind – the moments of physical interaction were enough to chase some of your worries away.

“You don’t drink?” You reached towards the table – it was closer to you than to him – and took the two glasses, handing him the water and keeping the beer for yourself.

“Not before,” he explained curtly, which you accepted without further questioning.

“So… what are we gonna do?” you asked carefully, sipping the beer through a metal straw, trying to give off a casual vibe despite focusing deeply on what you were about to hear.

“Depends. On how much will you allow me to do.” Baekhyun focused his gaze on something in the crowd; you felt as though it was his habit to avoid a direct gaze in an attempt to sound collected. “I had the idea of showing you some things. Just so you feel it out a little. It’s not final, but it may help the both of us figure out how we feel about it. Like a free trial, you see my point?” You nodded, but didn’t say anything, so after a moment he continued. “I won’t introduce you to everything, and it won’t last as long as usual sessions, either. I’ll talk to you a bit beforehand so we figure out some basic things. It shouldn’t make you uncomfortable. I won’t be trying anything beyond your comfort zone.”

“So, no deals a’la Fifty shades?” you felt silly the moment these words left your mouth. Baekhyun laughed awkwardly.

“No, it won’t be necessary. If you want to draw a comparison to that, I definitely won’t be dumping the whole scheme on you when you don’t even know what it’s like.”

And you won’t fuck me first thing in the plot, you added in your thoughts.

“There are a few things that I may ask you here, so that we have those out of the way,” he spoke; his tone lowered a little. “I need you to tell me if you have any illnesses or old injures that could influence your physical capacity.”

You thought for a bit; the answer was important, but you couldn’t recall much.

“I don’t think there’s anything important.”

“Is there anything unimportant?” His gaze pierced through you as he caught on your wording.

“Uh… I’m taking pills for my thyroid, but it’s nothing very dramatic” you explained. “Nothing else that I know of.”

Baekhyun nodded slowly.

“Fair. Next question, is there anything you’re particularly scared of? Phobias, or things you’re scared of in general, anything overly triggering that you want to avoid at all costs?” You already revealed some of these during your first conversation. But now you felt more at ease, and you thought you could be more detailed without sounding overwhelming.

“I’m… scared of fire. And hate my hair being pulled. I don’t know, why. I can’t explain it. It’s just…”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to explain yourself to me” Baekhyun looked at you with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “You sound like it would stress you out to share. You don’t need to be afraid of that. You don’t owe me anything, keep that in mind. It’s not supposed to feel like an obligation.”

“I-I know.”

“I’m scared of heights, by the way.” You stared at him in confusion. “Hm? Just thought it’s fair to share if you did.”

“Oh.”

“Chill out.” He nudged your glass with his hand to urge you to drink some more of the beer you managed to forget about by then. It was halfway through – you didn’t want to leave the glass with some of it still inside, although it managed to make you feel just a bit sick already.

His own drink was at around the same level too, and as you finished yours, he drank the remaining water in one go as well.

You weren’t the best at handling alcohol, and even the small amounts made you a bit weak in the knees. But you felt sober enough as the two of you finally got up; Baekhyun paid for your drinks and you left the bar.

The weather was nice, as expected. Going out into the sunlight again startled you, somehow; you felt as though a lot of time had already passed. But no, it was still the same afternoon.

It was true that Baekhyun lived nearby. His apartment was in a different direction than your place, though, and you estimated it would take around twenty minutes to get from one place to the other. You knew this area, although not too well – there were only some tenement houses, but no stores or academic buildings that could gain your attention or regular presence. It was on the more expensive side, although not a place a well off office worker wouldn’t afford; just maybe not suitable for a student. The tenement houses were old, but well-kept, and you knew that the apartments were way bigger than in a place like yours.

Opening the door for you, Baekhyun invited you into the dark hallway of his apartment. There were no lights, as every wall had doors to other rooms: two to the left, one at the end of the corridor, and two more to the right, perfectly symmetric.

“Kitchen, my office, bathroom, my bedroom, and the living room,” the man told you, starting from the left. One glance into the living room on the right made you realize just how big the rooms were; enormous, in your honest opinion, with the area of something around a classroom at school, but with ceilings that reached far up, almost twice higher than in your own place. Heavy curtains hung from the top of the tall windows like limp branches of a willow tree, giving the most dramatic effect, and – likely – gathering tons of dust throughout their lifetime. Wooden, carved furniture added to the effect, and you, in all your sincerity, would not dare to ask how much such a set cost, although it would be a lie to say that you weren’t curious. Wooden panels on the floor were already worn and grey, giving you a thought that the interiors were kept in this particular shape for long years before Baekhyun began to reside in there.

“That’s huge,” you only uttered. Your eyes rested on a painting in the middle of a wall on the left side of the room, above an eclectic-green, velvet couch, in front of which was a wooden coffee table, and which gave a perfect sight into an old TV on the side of the room, as it was one of the old-styled, small models that would be hard to look at from the distance between one wall and the other. The painting looked old, but you wondered from the distance, whether it was not just printed in good quality, with all the details of lights, people and nature making it look like a piece of national heritage rather than a small private property. It portrayed a battle scene coming to an end, warriors in shining armor stained with blood resting upon trees and a small pond of pinkish water, at either sunset or sunrise – you weren’t sure.

“You like it?” He caught your stare and followed it, giving himself a few seconds to adore the painting as well, as though he hadn’t looked at it enough despite living here.

“It’s too violent,” you decided after a moment. “But it’s nice to look at.”

“It’s not that violent in itself, I think. But it does conjure the thought of it.”

He left the living room with you still in the doorframe, staying to look at the painting just for a few more seconds. When you turned around, he was entering the kitchen – this room also looked old, but less well kept; it was cleaned up perfectly, however the furniture was shabby, with the surfaces often partly rubbed off and grey; this room simply screamed for renovation. But you felt way more at ease with the fact that it looked similar to yours – the one that was over twenty years old when you moved with and you had no way of changing it without getting in trouble with the landlord. And not like you’d want to do it at all, since you’d move out right after your studies anyway. The only difference was that you tried to make your apartment look a bit warmer with colorful lights and other cheap ornaments here and there, while Baekhyun’s kitchen was just left as it was, as though he gave up on it the moment he moved in.

“Hungry?”

“Not much.” You were still full of the freshly consumed beer.

Out of the fridge, Baekhyun took a bag of half-eaten potato chips. You stared at him with your eyebrow raised as he ate a few of these, and then extended the bag towards you, to which you only shook your head and he put the bag back in the fridge. He caught your look.

“Food moths,” he explained. You slowly nodded in understanding. That’d be a useful tip if you ever got those. The summer was slowly coming; soon, your small apartment would also be filled with bugs, and fruit flies, mosquitos, and sciarids because you kept a few plants in (discovering that sciarids and fruit flies were not the same thing was an important step in achieving perfect harmony in your adulthood).

You sat awkwardly by the table, observing him as he reached for the bag he must have left on the counter before he went to pick you up, and took out leftovers – probably from work – putting them back in the fridge.

“You worked today?” you asked.

“Yeah, just an average thing, a strategic meeting with co-workers. My working hours are not regular, so I didn’t really know I was gonna be out today.”

Once he was done, he sat by the table as well, and you leaned a bit forward, resting your chin on top of your hand.

“You could have postponed it with me, you must be tired,” you said.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather have a chance to relax with you.”

That didn’t sound as innocent as he probably tried to make it, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t scare you with the choice of words. You only laughed awkwardly.

“Anyway. Since, as I said, I don’t want to intimidate you, I think we’ll stay in the living room since you seemed content with that,” he spoke casually.

“So, no playroom?” you uttered. Baekhyun choked on the chip in his mouth.

“I don’t own such a place. I just usually use the bedroom. Or the bathroom,” he explained.

“Or the office?” you felt bold enough to suggest, giving him a small smirk.

“No, I assure you the office is for what offices usually are.”

You smiled innocently as Baekhyun stared at you, probably trying to mask sudden shyness.

“Either way,” he cleared his throat. “I told you some about what I want to do, but you haven’t told me if there’s anything you’re interested in trying out. I assume you did see some things, so… Is there anything that you’ve been particularly interested in?”

The harmless way in which he phrased the question absolutely didn’t change the fact that he was, basically, asking what kind of porn you watch.

“I uh… I like watching different things, just out of curiosity, but I’m not really sure if there’s anything I like particularly more than other things… I suppose bondage is the biggest basic.” You tried, you really tried to sound neutral, but your voice trembled a little. “But I’m not really sure, to be honest. I’m quite open-minded, I suppose…” You felt silly; how could you not be able to answer the most basic question – what do you like? But Baekhyun seemed to understand that very well, as he only nodded slowly.

“What about, let’s say, pet play?” You blushed slightly. “You know what I’m talking about? I feel like a lot of young women start from there.” It took you a moment to realize that you, too, were a young woman. “Behavioral training. Humiliation. Regression. A bit of pain, if suitable. Trying out a few things to see how you respond. What do you think?”

“I think it may be fun” you said slowly. “Does it have something to do with the…?” you motioned your neck, hoping he’ll get the cue. You remembered the collars the other people wore – they were the main reason you got interested in the first place, after all. Baekhyun smiled, catching on your observation.

“Sometimes, but not necessarily. It’s just a thing I like. Do you?”

“…I may,” you answered carefully.

“Gotcha. We may try it out. You know, everyone is different. The collars are different too. I usually order them after I’m sure the person’s gonna stay, and when I know what type will be the most suitable for them. I can’t do that for you yet, but I have some spare items.”

“Do you have the ones of people who you’re not with anymore?” you asked, out of pure curiosity.

Baekhyun was silent for a moment.

“I do. But I’d rather not use them. They’re there for memory, not for use.”

“Gotcha. I was just curious,” you quickly explained.

“Do you have a safe-word?” Baekhyun’s gaze rested on you.

“…Not really. Never needed one,” you uttered sheepishly.

“You have anything on your mind?”

“Um, the… thing with lights? The red light, yellow and green?” you proposed carefully.

“That’s a good one. Tell me how you understand them.”

“So, the green one means everything’s alright, the yellow is when we need to slow down, and the red stops the scene,” you recited, as if you were reading from a book.

“That’s right. It’s easy to remember, so we can go with that.” You bit on your lips to prevent yourself from getting too excited with the apparent praise; it wasn’t anything big, of course – but you felt as though it was a praise in itself, being acknowledged for saying something right. “Another thing is that I need you to know a few rules, before we start.” You were all ears. “First, I don’t want you to be reluctant for the fun of it. Whether you want to be a brat later or not, today we’re just trying things out and I don’t want to mistake your attitude with actual discomfort, do you understand?” You nodded slowly, memorizing the words and waiting for him to continue. “Second. No pain that I will impose on you will be a matter of punishment, unless I specify so. If you don’t enjoy it, you need to tell me so. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop right away, unless – of course – you use the safe-word. However, I still expect honesty. During, as well as after the scene, when we review it. Do you understand?” The breaks in between the points gave you enough time to acknowledge the information and encode it in your memory. You nodded once again. “And for the last. Do you trust me?”

The tone made you look up at him, finally focusing on his person rather than the words alone.

“I do,” you finally decided; knowing very well what this answer would lead to.

Baekhyun’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at you warmly.

“Well then, shall we start?”

* * *

You stand in the middle of the room, the cardigan and shoes are off, your feet feel cold against the floor despite socks wrapped around them comfortingly.

Don’t move a finger, you’ve been told, and so, you stare at the painting before you, the warrior in the front staring at you back with contempt you haven’t noticed before.

Your breath trembles in anticipation as you try to hear sounds from other rooms – you do hear some shuffling, but nothing that you can figure out for sure. He must be in his bedroom, you think. What is he preparing? Which tools out of many that you’ve seen on the screen of your phone all these nights that, despite spending perfect eight hours in bed, did not end in getting perfect eight hours of sleep?

Your arm itches, but you fight the urge to scratch it; be obedient, he said.

Steps echo in the corridor and you hold your breath. Your head snaps to the side the moment you hear him enter the room again.

“Eyes down,” he commands without sparing you a glance; you haven’t had enough time to see what he brought, but you instantly obey his words. “Don’t look at me unless I allow you to.” His voice is stern, and it makes your stomach clench nervously. But it’s not a bad sensation, not at all – you grow excited. “Down. On your knees.”

You try to comply, but he still scoffs at your apparent sluggishness. You almost fall over as you let your knees bend and you finally kneel down as well as you can, eyes facing down as well, although you feel awkward as you do so.

“On your toes,” Baekhyun commands; something small but hard hits your heels, startling you, and your head whips around to see a wooden pointing stick. You swallow the gasp of surprise at the sight.

You fix your posture, your toes instantly begin to cramp; that’s uncomfortable, and your toes aren’t too flexible, it seems.

“Straighten your back. You’re slouching.”

The task turns out almost impossible to do, the whole weight lands on your toes and you frown in discomfort.

“Is it necessary…?”

“Look at me.” It feels unnatural to do so now, but you oblige, turning your head to the side where he stands. “What’s wrong?”

“My toes hurt,” you admit quietly. Baekhyun watches you for a moment.

“Straighten them. Kneel as you did before.” You bite your lips and nod, uttering a small thank you that you find suitable enough as the position gets a bit more comfortable. “Back. Straighten.”

You automatically snap back into the position. But it does feel a bit silly – like something your teachers would say, don’t slouch! A laughter comes out at the comparison, but you attempt to stifle it.

Apparently, not well enough.

The pointer hits the nape of your neck; not too hard, but the message gets through.

Baekhyun stands in front of you and, most likely, stares you down – you can’t tell; your gaze is fixated on his lacquered shoes. The shoes then move, kicking the middle of your thighs.

“Spread.”

You feel a bit awkward as you oblige this command; you only glance down to make sure your pants aren’t ripped – you never know. To your relief, they’re not. Then you try to glance forward – but, what’s in front of you, makes you more shy than anything, so you just fix your gaze on his knees instead.

“You’re slouching again.”

“Pets often do,” you note before you manage to bite your tongue; you do remember your conversation from before – wasn’t it what he was aiming for? You thought so at first. But the words were not thought through at all; you just felt a need to say something, anything, just like you’d talk back to a teacher when they became too annoying in their remarks.

You hold your breath as Baekhyun crouches down to your level.

You feel his eyes on you, and you unwittingly tremble under his gaze, forcing yourself to look even lower, not daring to break the rule. The seconds seem to last hours as he doesn’t speak a word – and he doesn’t have to. You feel intimidated.

“You want to be a pet?”

He stands up; he’s right in front of you, if you so much as leaned forward a little bit, your forehead would touch his thigh. You slightly crave the touch; but not enough to move, not when you grow petrified. The question is rhetorical. You wait for him to finish the thought.

“Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Without waiting for your reaction, he steps behind you. You hear shuffling in what had to be a box placed behind your back; you see nothing.

But you hear the harsh, recognizable clink of metal and your stomach drops.

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch!

Author's note: Hello, have you missed me??? I'm sorry it took so long to upload, it's hard to find time among exams I had in June, and now my (first) new job! The next chapter is already being written, so hopefully, won't take that long. Remember to reblog if you liked, and I'll be really happy to hear what you have to say about this so far. Stay safe!

Next (Chapter 4.)

#exowritersnet #kdiarynet #bbh-net #exosnet #exo baekhyun #exo bbh #bbh x reader #bbh #exo #byun baekhyun #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fanfiction #exo x reader #baekhyun x reader #vg: vulnerability #vg: exo #vg: baekhyun #vg: series

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omgrachwrites · 4 years

Text

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Two

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly woman.

Warnings: fluff, lil bit of cursing

Words: 2559

A/N: I would like to say a massive thank you to all you guys who have supported me with this fic, you are all just the best people!! I really hope you enjoy this and please let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love each and every one of you very much! xxx

Chapter Two

You smiled as the blustery wind blew through the trees of the dark forest; the wind was so strong that the leaves trembled as they threatened to fall. You were certain that the glass in the panes would be shaking in the Gryffindor dormitories. The material of your coat was thick and warm as you huddled into it; you had grown accustomed to getting up early over the summer and taking a stroll around the village. You thought that it would be nice to do so once you were back at school and you were right, it was nice.

Glancing over in the direction of Hagrid’s hut, you noticed that he was just leaving his home and he was struggling with his many bags. Hurrying over to him, you smiled at the wild looking man and you picked up a couple of bags, “let me help you Hagrid.”

“That’s very kind of ‘yer, Y/N,” he beamed at you from beneath his beard, “how’s your brother doing?” he asked as the both of you began to drag the bags.

You grinned to yourself, “it’s only been a couple of weeks but it’s very plain that he loves it here. He’s in his element,” you were very grateful that Dumbledore had still let Finn attend.

As you and Hagrid walked towards the forest paddock, he was saying that he could really do with an assistant, “you should absolutely get a dog,” you grinned and he let out a booming laugh.

“That’s a fine idea, Y/N.”

As you got to the paddock, you bid Hagrid goodbye and you turned to walk back to the castle before breakfast began. When you walked into the dormitory you giggled when you saw a pair of shining emerald eyes peering at you, “good morning sleepyhead.”

Lily groaned sleepily and threw a pillow at you, it missed you by about six inches, “I can’t believe you’re up and dressed this early, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend before running a comb through your hair, “well, you know what the muggles say. The early bird catches the worm.”

She grumbled at you as she got dressed in her uniform and tied a green ribbon among her red curls and you both traipsed down into the common room. They discovered that a crowd of people were gathered around a notice.

“Excuse me, please. Thank you very much,” Lily laughed as she gently nudged a tiny little first year out of the way. You also pushed your way to the front and read the notice.

As Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain, James had put up a notice that try-outs would be held in about a month’s time. You felt warm fingers link through your own and you looked to see that the pretty redhead was grinning at you; “you should try out, Y/N.”

You scoffed with a giggle as you led Lily through the portrait hole. Perhaps if she was away from the notice then she’d drop the subject all together, you really didn’t want to talk about it, “yeah, I don’t think so, you remember what happened in second year, thanks though,” you shuddered at the memory.

In your second year, the Slytherin Captain had aimed a bludger at you; it had hit you and broken your nose. As a result, you had slid off the end of your broom in front of the whole school. The laughter still haunted you; it had been so humiliating that you’d pretty much lost all of your confidence in Quidditch.

Lily sighed and rested her head on your shoulder, her hair smelled of vanilla and honey, “maybe you’ll change your mind.”

The Great Hall was positively full of amazing smells; breakfast was your favourite meal of the day. You looked down the long table and spotted Remus nursing a mug of something. You smirked and plucked a marshmallow from the bowl in the middle of the table, apart from flirting with Remus, messing with him was one of your favourite things to do. As you and Lily neared the marauders, you took your aim and fired the marshmallow straight into Remus’ mug.

He looked up and rolled his eyes as he chuckled at you, his hazel eyes shining, “good morning to you too, Y/N.”

You giggled, “good morning sunshine,” you sat opposite him and piled toast and eggs onto your plate.

With a charming smirk, Sirius turned round at the sound of your voice. The girl he had been talking to looked very offended, “my, don’t you simply look radiant today?”

You smirked at him as you took a gulp of orange juice, “my, aren’t you an extraordinary flirt?” you teased back, causing him to pull a tongue at you.

Lily laughed and James piped up, “yes, flirting and sleeping around are his only personality traits, Y/N,” he chuckled and lowered his voice, “did you see the notice for try-outs?”

You nodded, smiling at your friend, “yes James, I saw it.”

“Won’t you come?”

You sighed as you placed your knife and fork onto your plate, “are you and Lily in cahoots or something? I’m gonna kill her. No, I won’t come,” your tone was uncharacteristically harsh so you shot him a sweet smile.

“But, you were so great when we played it over the summer!”

“Well, there’s a huge difference when I’m just playing with you guys, and besides, that wasn’t actually proper Quidditch” you ruffled his hair and he smiled at you.

You looked over at Remus as his hazel eyes lingered on a pretty but cold Slytherin girl named Ursula as she walked by with Narcissa Black. You smirked and raised an eyebrow; you wanted to see Remus happy, even if it was with a Slytherin. He was such a sweetheart. You were about to ask him about it with a teasing grin but Sirius interrupted your unspoken words.

“What have we got first?” he asked through a mouthful of scrambled egg.

His friends looked at him in disgust, “ugh, we’ve got double potions with the Slytherins, you should really learn our timetable,” you rolled your eyes.

“But, why would I need to do that, if I can just ask you sweets?” he winked at you and you kicked his shin underneath the table.

In potions class you were brewing an Elixir to Induce Euphoria, which induced a sense of inexplicable happiness upon the drinker. If the potion was made too strongly then the mere fumes made the brewer extremely happy and giggly. It was a really good lesson. Unfortunately, you had made your potion much too strong and the fumes dissolved you and poor Lily into fits of giggles. It was a really nice feeling.

You looked over at Sirius and discovered that he was watching you with a shit eating grin on his face. His smile reached his eyes, causing crinkles around them and there were dimples in his cheeks. You had always noticed how devastatingly handsome he was, though you didn’t dwell on it much. Not anymore. Though, you had to admit it was entrancing the way his grey eyes sparkled in the low lights of the dungeon. But, that was probably just the potion talking.

“You really are beautiful, Y/N,” he smiled and you flushed at the older boy’s words.

“You’re sweet Sirius, who would have thought it?” Sirius chuckled, almost looking disappointed as he placed a lid on your cauldron which cut off the fumes. The effects gradually wore off.

You looked up and noticed that Slughorn was making his way over to you, his eyebrows set in a frown, “shit,” you cursed beneath your breath, you were nervous. You were sure that he was about to reprimand you for making your potion too strong.

“Miss L/N,” he whispered, placing his hand on your shoulder and you gave him a confused look, “Professor Dumbledore has made me aware of your brother’s affliction. As head of his house and the Potions Master, I will do everything in my power to help him.”

You were very touched, Slughorn was so kind, you blinked annoying tears out of your eyes and smiled, “thank you Professor that is very kind of you.”

As you had been explaining to Hagrid earlier, Finn seemed to really enjoy Hogwarts so far and he had a little group of friends. He wasn’t hanging around with Malfoy which you were very thankful for.

Later on that evening, the boys – minus Peter, who seemed to be going off on his own a lot – smuggled second helpings of dessert out of the kitchens. In your earlier years, you had thought that it was very impressive when your friends managed to smuggle food. You had since discovered that the house elves were only too happy to give it away.

You smirked, licking vanilla icing from your fingers – you didn’t realise that Sirius was watching you – as Lily everyone the embarrassing story of how James had asked her out. The first years giggled when Lily got to the part where James had danced and sang his way across the teacher’s table, in front of everyone. Dumbledore had seemed to really enjoy James’ little performance.

James hung his head and tried but failed to change the subject. It was eventually Sirius who interrupted Lily’s story and changed the subject. He did it by whistling at a passing 6th year, she simpered and giggled as she walked slowly, swaying her hips as she went. You scowled, wishing that she’d have a bit of respect for herself. You mimed being sick as Lily and Remus smirked at you, you didn’t really want your dessert anymore.

“You’re such a pig Sirius. It’s a waste of that pretty face.”

“So, you do think I’m pretty? I knew it!” he smirked as you gave him the finger, he was so annoying sometimes, “jealous are you, L/N?” he challenged, narrowing his eyes. There was silence as everybody waited to see what would happen next.

You laughed, Sirius was someone that you could never be jealous about, he just made his friends look bad by the way he acted, “no, there’s nothing to be jealous of but maybe James was right, sleeping around does seem to be your only personality trait.”

“Please don’t bring me into this,” James mumbled.

Sirius scoffed as he leaned back on the couch, dragging a hand through his tangled hair, his eyes alight with challenge, “please, I can go without dating or sleeping around for longer than you think, Y/N.”

“Prove it,” you weren’t so sure why you were so bothered.

“Fine,” Sirius smirked, “I bet that I can go until New Year’s Eve without dating or sleeping around, it’s gonna be a challenge for me. If I can’t then I guess you’ll have the satisfaction of being right about me.”

You knew that making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil. However, you were undeniably competitive and everybody knew it and you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to humble Sirius. You were sure that he’d lose. Satisfaction of being right about him was all you really wanted.

“And, how would I know that you haven’t been with some poor girl in private?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. Sirius couldn’t go for long without messing with girls.

Sirius smirked and tweaked your nose and you scowled in annoyance, “my girls can’t help boasting when we’ve been together. They don’t abide by lies; you can trust the gossip where I’m concerned.”

You nodded with a mischievous smile, you knew that he was right though you didn’t like to admit it, “fine,” you relented, “you have got yourself a bet, Black,” you smiled at your friend and you shook on it. Your deal was sealed; you even had witnesses to confirm it.

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

About a week later, the marauders were patrolling the grounds, close to the pumpkin patch at Hagrid’s hut. They were finalising their plans for their newest prank and were consulting the marauder’s map. The boys chuckled as a dot labelled, ‘Marlene McKinnon’ and a dot labelled ‘Dorcas Meadowes’ were walking side by side.

“They’re so cute,” Peter sighed wistfully.

Sirius chuckled, “at least I know now why she rejected me,” Marlene McKinnon had recently come out as gay which made sense to Sirius. He was sure that a straight girl would never reject him.

James slapped him on the shoulder and snickered, “it’s been a week and you’re still sticking to the bet that you and Y/N made. I’m proud of you mate, I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Thanks Prongs,” Sirius chuckled; he was going to prove Y/N that she was wrong about him. Remus simply smirked at him knowingly. Sirius ignored his best mate as he huddled further into his jacket and looked ahead to the dark thicket of trees. He saw a familiar figure on a broomstick and he got an idea, “I’ll catch up with you lads in the common room, okay?” he didn’t wait for an answer as he strode off across the damp grass.

As he got closer, he noticed that Y/N’s hair was loose and wild, the wind whipping it around her face. Sirius decided that he liked it like that, “practising for the try-outs are we?” he called up to her, his voice getting lost in the wind.

Pretty, sparkling eyes looked down at him warily as she landed gracefully on the ground. Y/N looked away from him as she got off her broomstick, tucking it beneath her arm, “I wanted to try out for the position of seeker, I really did but after what happened in second year…” she trailed of, still refusing to look at him. This was very unlike her, she was normally snarky and cheerful.

Sirius chewed his lip; they often made fun of each other, their personalities clashed like fire and ice. But, he saw that this was important to her and he was in a perfect position to help her out. He walked over to her and took her hand, her fingers were like blocks of ice, “Y/N, look at me,” she sighed and looked up at him warily, and Sirius smiled, “I’ve decided not to join the team this year but I can help you with your confidence. I will help you become the best seeker that Hogwarts has ever known.”

Y/N slipped her hand from his and stood with her back against a tree, wrapping her arms around herself and she looked at him with narrowed eyes, “and, you would help me out of the goodness of your own heart?”

“Of course I would, you’re one of my best friends and that will never change,” he smiled, “and besides, I need something to do if I can’t date or sleep around.”

Y/N ducked her head and giggled, shooting him a pretty smile, “fine, every Friday and Saturday, leading up to the try-outs. Except for full moons, because of Remus,” she added quickly with a funny look on her face.

“Alright then,” Sirius beamed, he felt like a good Samaritan.

“Thank you Sirius, you’re not so bad after all,” she teased, back to her usual self as she pulled him into a hug. The scent of lavender and rose hung in the air long after Y/N had left the paddock and Sirius took a deep breath of it.

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

Taglist: open

@approved-by-dentists @thefuturelawyer @a-miserable-hufflepunk @firelordmillie @seriouslysiriuss @sleep-i-ness

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 3 years

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Astronomers discover an oversized black hole population in the star cluster Palomar 5 "The number of black holes is roughly three times larger than expected from the number of stars in the cluster, and it means that more than 20% of the total cluster mass is made up of black holes. They each have a mass of about 20 times the mass of the Sun, and they formed in supernova explosions at the end of the lives of massive stars, when the cluster was still very young" says Prof Mark Gieles, from the Institute of Cosmos Sciences of the University of Barcelona (ICCUB) and lead author of the paper. Tidal streams are streams of stars that were ejected from disrupting star clusters or dwarf galaxies. In the last few years, nearly thirty thin streams have been discovered in the Milky Way halo. "We do not know how these streams form, but one idea is that they are disrupted star clusters. However, none of the recently discovered streams have a star cluster associated with them, hence we can not be sure. So, to understand how these streams formed, we need to study one with a stellar system associated with it. Palomar 5 is the only case, making it a Rosetta Stone for understanding stream formation and that is why we studied it in detail" explains Gieles. The authors simulate the orbits and the evolution of each star from the formation of the cluster until the final dissolution. They varied the initial properties of the cluster until a good match with observations of the stream and the cluster was found. The team finds that Palomar 5 formed with a lower black hole fraction, but stars escaped more efficiently than black holes, such that the black hole fraction gradually increased. The black holes dynamically puffed up the cluster in gravitational slingshot interactions with stars, which led to even more escaping stars and the formation of the stream. Just before it completely dissolves - roughly a billion years from now - the cluster will consist entirely of black holes. "This work has helped us understand that even though the fluffy Palomar 5 cluster has the brightest and longest tails of any cluster in the Milky Way, it is not unique. Instead, we believe that many similarly puffed up, black hole-dominated clusters have already disintegrated in the Milky Way tides to form the recently discovered thin stellar streams" says co-author Dr. Denis Erkal at the University of Surrey. Gieles points out that in this paper "we have shown that the presence of a large black hole population may have been common in all the clusters that formed the streams". This is important for our understanding of globular cluster formation, the initial masses of stars and the evolution of massive stars. This work also has important implications for gravitational waves. "It is believed that a large fraction of binary black hole mergers form in star clusters. A big unknown in this scenario is how many black holes there are in clusters, which is hard to constrain observationally because we can not see black holes. Our method gives us a way to learn how many BHs there are in a star cluster by looking at the stars they eject.'', says Dr. Fabio Antonini from Cardiff University, a co-author of the paper. Palomar 5 is a globular cluster discovered in 1950 by Walter Baade. It is in the Serpens constellation at a distance of about 80,000 light-years, and it is one of the roughly 150 globular clusters that orbit around the Milky Way. It is older than 10 billion years, like most other globular clusters, meaning that it formed in the earliest phases of galaxy formation. It is about 10 times less massive and 5 times more extended than a typical globular cluster and in the final stages of dissolution.

#space #science #Astronomy #physics #news

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first-and-last-neocount · 3 years

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Whumptober Day 6

While still falling under the definition of whump, I intentionally aimed for something a little less soul-crushing this time, since I figured I would be evoking some Feels with that last one. XD

This one isn’t directly tied to anything else, and it shouldn’t be so heart-wrenching; it’s just me projecting pandemic feels all over poor Damien, because I’m an introvert who isn’t physically affectionate with more than a handful of my closest friends anyway, but even I really felt it when we all had to go months on end without touching another human being. Not fun, dude.

Day 6 - Theme Chosen: Touch starved

Theoretically, it should never have happened. With the way their journey had gone so far, when he thought about it, Damien was almost surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

Trapped aboard the God's Glory for months on end, isolated from the crew by their enduring wariness of the Hunter and his companions, unable to hasten their progress and weighed down by the growing fear of what would be waiting for them when they made landfall again, Damien was slowly driving himself insane. With every day that passed, the knot of frustration and dread pulled tighter in his gut. His temper shortened in response, and by now he had grown so tense and snappish that he couldn't even blame the crew's avoidance of him entirely on Tarrant; he knew he wasn't exactly great company anymore.

The death of the girl from the Eastern Continent had only worsened his already foul mood. The toxic mixture of guilt, resentment, and panic that had filled him upon realizing what her death meant – that he himself would have to go back to feeding his dark companion, at least until they made landfall in Faraday – still lingered, even though it had been two days since Sisa's suicide. He'd been given those two days as a grace period, time to mentally prepare himself as best he could, but the Hunter had given him clear warning; tonight, the nightmares would start again.

All of this meant that, when Damien laid down in his bunk that night, he was wound tighter than a springbolt at full draw. He had fully expected the turmoil in his mind to keep him up for hours, but with the forced inactivity of being at sea came a paradoxical lethargy, and he wasn't alone with his circling thoughts for more than an hour or so before he gradually sank into an uneasy slumber.

The dreams came almost at once.

Vivid as all the Hunter's carefully-woven nightmares were, Damien could feel the awful wrenching shudder that went through the ship as the hull ground onto the unforgiving rocks, hear the shattering of wood and the screech of metal as they collided with the outcropping of black stone that had been masked by the thick fog lying over the turbulent waves. Terror ran like acid through his veins as the deck tilted under his feet, the ship listing badly as water flooded through the gaping hole in the bow; he grasped the rail to keep himself upright, the screams of the crew ringing in his ears – but as he stared down into the churning black ocean, something sparked in the back of his mind.

The dark waves. Drowning. A girl.

Sisa.

His awareness that it was a dream blended with the hot spike of rage at the thought of another innocent life lost to the Hunter's insatiable hunger, and the scene around him shattered like glass. The deck was level again, the ocean calm; the stars glimmered down from a cloudless night sky, the ship deathly quiet and seemingly deserted around him.

You're resistant tonight.

The Hunter's voice slithered through his mind, soft and thoughtful, edged with hunger – and reality bent around him once more.

The village of the Terata. The hideous corruption that had lurked beneath its veneer of normalcy. The acid sting of desperation in the air as the villagers made their supplication to their sadistic god. The illusion of childhood's innocence, and the terrible reality that it hid -

But the sight of the children made Damien's thoughts turn to Jenseny, and the grief that rose up and choked him was so strong that it nearly brought him awake, a cry of pain catching in his throat as the image of the village dissolved around him. Tarrant's will wrapped around him and pulled him back under, an almost soothing tenor to the thread of fae that stroked his mind.

Too raw, still. Perhaps...

Another shift, then another. Scenes of terror from Damien's memories, or half-formed fears of the future, woven into shape by Tarrant's power. Every vista that presented itself, though, Damien fought against; though his awareness of what was happening was subsumed at the beginning of each dream, his mind rebelled continuously, breaking through to lucidity each time and shredding the delicate fabric of the nightmare in the process. As one dreamscape dissolved and reformed into another, there was a moment where Damien surfaced enough to actually feel a bit guilty; he'd agreed to this deal after all, once in the rakhlands and again after Sisa had killed herself, and he didn't even know why his mind refused to settle enough to be fully immersed in any of the scenarios Tarrant was weaving.

That moment stretched as he lingered in unformed darkness, as though the Hunter had hesitated. Finally, new scenery shimmered into being. Still caught in that state of half-awareness, Damien watched the dream come to life around him, willing himself to just let go and fall into it -

The chamber that formed around him was the throne room of the Undying Prince's citadel.

Nothing else had taken shape yet. There was no time for it. Before any figures could form, before a single sound had echoed through the room, Damien's mind spun out of control. The terror he'd felt, realizing that he was once again powerless before a mortal tyrant with the power of a sadistic demon backing them; the utter grief that had devastated him when he realized that Jenseny was gone; the gutting betrayal of believing that the Hunter had betrayed them; the sheer blinding fear, realizing that Tarrant had still been an ally after all, and that he might pay for that with his life before Damien could reach him -

Damien snapped awake violently, breathing so hard that his chest ached and the room spun violently around him, nausea thick in his throat and his skin drenched in ice-cold sweat. He sat bolt upright in his bunk, clenching fistfuls of his sheets with shaking hands as he stared blindly at the wall of his cabin, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

Before he had even coaxed his breathing back to something resembling a normal rate, there was a firm but quiet knock at his door.

Damien let his head fall forward, biting out a soft curse under his breath. It didn't take much luck to guess who would be knocking at his door at this hour – he was fairly sure he hadn't actually cried out aloud when he'd catapulted himself back into wakefulness, which meant there was only one other person likely to even be awake right now.

“Come in,” he said hoarsely.

The door opened, then clicked shut again. Damien didn't look up, his gaze still fixed on the crumpled bedclothes he was gripping with white knuckles, but he didn't need to visually confirm the identity of his visitor; he could feel the shift in the air, that insidious chill that the Hunter wore like a shroud. Swallowing back the bile that still roiled in his throat, Damien beat back his pride enough to offer a quiet apology.

“Sorry. I didn't do that on purpose. I don't know why I couldn't just...”

“I could hazard a guess.”

Startled, Damien finally looked up. Tarrant had stopped only a couple feet away, and was leaning against the cabin wall with his arms folded across his chest, regarding Damien thoughtfully. Despite the lack of hostility, the Knight still shivered a little under the scrutiny of those cold silver eyes. Cocking an eyebrow questioningly, he stared back at the adept.

“Alright, then. Let's hear it.”

Of course, the Hunter couldn't simply state his theory. He studied Damien a moment longer, then murmured, “You haven't been sleeping well, have you? Even before tonight.”

Damien frowned at him. “Not particularly, no. Why?”

“You're unable to settle yourself. You've been sleeping poorly, your mind is in turmoil, and don't think I haven't noticed your shortness with the crew – or forgotten your outburst the other day.” Damien winced a little at the reminder of how he'd blown up at the Hunter immediately after Sisa's suicide, but there was no judgement in the adept's tone or expression, only contemplation. “You don't have any close connections to most of those aboard, and if you'll forgive me the observation, you don't have an... intimate companion, this time around.”

Damien was drawing a breath to snap at the Hunter that he didn't see how, exactly, his relationship with Raysa was any of the adept's damn business – when it abruptly clicked in his head, and he deflated, staring at the adept.

“You're blaming touch starvation.” The words came out flat, more statement than question but tinged with disbelief. When Tarrant inclined his head slightly, Damien huffed out a humourless chuckle. “You can't be serious.”

“Why not?” Tarrant asked coolly, his gaze still locked on Damien, piercing and assessing. “It's a scientifically documented phenomenon. We've been at sea for months, and I doubt you've had more contact than accidentally brushing arms with one of the crew since we set sail. The common symptoms are irritability, anxiety, and depression. It strikes me as an entirely likely explanation.”

“Fine, then what the hell do you suggest I do about it?” Damien snapped, hating himself as he did so, because his fuse had never been so short and by the look on Tarrant's face he knew it too. “In case you failed to notice or give a damn, Rasya's dead, and I don't exactly have a long lineup of friends at hand to hug it out with. I guess you're just going to have to work a bit harder for your dinner.”

Tarrant's face had gone utterly blank for a moment at the mention of Rasya's name, and for a split second Damien wondered almost hysterically if he actually had forgotten – but the horrified thought was cut off when the adept said, in a tone as bland as one might use to discuss the weather, “There's another option.”

Damien stared at him for a moment. Tarrant gazed back, unruffled. Finally, the Knight said slowly, “Now I know you're definitely just messing with my head. You're not suggesting what it sounds like you're suggesting.”

“No need to look quite so scandalized, Vryce, I'm hardly propositioning you,” Tarrant said dryly, his tone infuriatingly amused. “You're correct, however, that skin contact is the only cure and your options in that department are limited. If you'd like, I certainly could continue mentally assaulting you for sustenance – you were undeniably producing enough terror and distress earlier, though I suspect you'll find that sort of feeding even more exhausting that the usual method, and I'll have to draw from you more frequently to compensate for the additional effort I'm expending.” He watched Damien pale, then quirked one fair eyebrow up, mouth twisting into a rare, wry grin. “Or, you could budge over a few inches.”

Damien hesitated for a moment longer; then, he groaned and shuffled himself sideways, pressing closer to the wall and leaving the outer edge of the bunk free.

“I hate you,” he announced flatly, watching the adept prowl gracefully across the small cabin toward him.

“Your feelings have been noted, Reverend.” In a few smooth movements Tarrant had kicked off his boots, slid his long frame elegantly onto the bunk, and reached out; caught completely off guard by the manhandling, Damien let himself be tugged almost effortlessly down and arranged to the Hunter's liking. He found himself facing the wall, a lean form pressed close against his back and one of the adept's arms a cool weight draped across his side. “Now get some sleep.”

A thousand replies crowded to the front of Damien's mind, but sheer confusion stayed his tongue from a sharp retort. As the initial shock faded, he realized how incredibly comfortable he actually was. He had certainly missed the weight of another body in bed with him over the last months; he had rarely slept alone since reaching adulthood, since he had almost continuously been in a relationship of one degree of seriousness or another and had always been the type to stay the night. He usually slept by himself only when he was travelling, and that had never been for as long a stretch of time as this voyage. Finding himself as the proverbial little spoon was considerably more novel, Damien's senses jangling a bit at the strangeness of being the one held instead of the one holding another – but as his instincts accepted that he was not in fact in any danger and relaxed, he found himself almost unwilling comforted. He could feel the Hunter breathing steadily against his back, and the deceptively human sensation unwound tension in his shoulders that Damien hadn't even known he had been carrying. Even though the adept's body was considerably cooler than a mortal human's would have been, he was still there, and Damien could feel his own skin tingling with a kind of sensory euphoria everywhere that the Hunter's weight rested against him.

Maybe there was something to the touch starvation theory after all, as much as it pained him to admit it.

The window to reply to the Hunter's comment slipped away, and Damien said nothing, just shifted and settled his head a little more comfortably onto the pillow. Tarrant's arm tightened a bit further around his waist, an undeniably grounding pressure, and Damien sighed without meaning to as a tiny panicked voice that had been babbling in the back of his mind for weeks went abruptly, blissfully quiet. He was far from ready to say that this had been a good idea, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to stay this way for a few minutes, let Tarrant think that he'd at least given it a fair shot before he kicked the adept the hell out of his bunk...

Between one breath and the next, Damien fell asleep.

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #Touch Starved #coldfire trilogy #fic #evil is what you make of it #gerald tarrant #damien vryce #the neocount writes

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halloweenvalentine1997 · 3 years

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June watched him disappear into the pale sunset, feeling the lachrymosity burn her nose as it reached her eyes. She didn't want to cry; it wouldn't mend her and it had never relieved her. But it was all she could do, drinking salt and shame. A catatonic stillness settled over her weary bones. Her legs began to ache, but June couldn't remember how to move, nor did she have a desire to. Why go anywhere? If she saw blue eyes, even her own in her reflection, she would think of his, full of hypnotization and warmth; they were the kind of eyes you wanted to study forever, memorizing the hues as they shifted from light to dark. Many people had beautiful eyes, and many thought praising them was overrated. But June had lost her way in the labyrinths of his, her heart swollen and her gaze unable to meet anything else, anyone else. The tremors in her hands grew stronger as she imagined holding him, his ivory skin a moonlit radiance in the dark, his mouth soft and sensual on her neck, his eyelashes like a butterfly wing on her cheek. June wanted his voice in her ear, his arms tight around her body, words flowing in like a gentle breeze. She was suddenly immune to all things realistic, all things to prioritize. For several hours after he had vanished from her view, her mind spun with reveries. June fell too far into the beauty of it all, so far that she didn't notice the sunset was now black. The entire firmament was a sable oppression; no light lit as guidance. The path of the meadow was no longer a soft soil, it was concrete littered with barbed wire, sharp-edged aluminum, vertical blades of herring knives, the glass of windshields and urns with the residue of ash still clinging to the pieces. Tall weeds had replaced the grass on each side of the trail, dripping of blood and the saliva of wolverines. They jumped out of the weeds, their growls like machinery, like the monsters that young children fear will devour them in the night. June's heart ricochetted. She found the mobility to move forward and run, ignoring the sharp objects slashing her bare feet open. She couldn't see anything around her; it was too dark. All she could hear were the growls of the wolverines, followed by the sudden shrieks of an unidentifiable animal. The sky rained foul-scented toxicants into her hair. She grew faint from the poison and collapsed on some embers, singeing red lights leaving her flesh blackened, lights as red as the eyes of the predatory being standing over her. It gradually lost its invisibility; she could make out the yellow slime in its fanged mouth and the holes for its nose. It had human skin, but its hands were bones with sharp, curved nails and its heart was visible in the hollowed cavity of its chest. June could also see it's ribcage, its lungs inflating and deflating as it breathed. Its head was mostly bald, with strands of straw-colored hair here and there. Its legs were fat. June saw the resemblance. She screamed. She wouldn't believe it, but the thing was there. "Yes, I am what you will be, you little bitch," it said. Its nails curled around her neck. There was a sudden change of scenery; she found herself in some sort of cell. There were no windows, just a small bulb that buzzed and gave little light. A catherine wheel revolved clockwise against the wall. Like something out of a medieval world. June's eyes widened. The thing charged at her with a wild malice. Then it all stopped. June knew this wasn't happening. She knew that she was dissolving into something absurd, the kinds of things she couldn't discuss. That didn't happen. That thing wasn't her. She was back on the trail and the meadow returned. The sunset was still there, a pale rose with clouds for petals. She gasped for air. There were no lacerations, no scent of chemicals, no wolverines, no grotesque depiction of her. This time, she really did move forward. She ran. Ran in the direction he had gone, knowing it was futile to find him. But what was she to do when her mind became nothing but him, when her life became nothing but him? She had been lured, desperately trying to avoid all else.

Vivica Salem

#from 2012 or 2013 #mine #prose #other name

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cajunquandary · 3 years

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Catch Me, Cas

950 words

What began as some ask-box fluffy destiel clowning with @starrynightdeancas turned into this before watching 15x18. THEN I ADDED MORE AND IT GOT SAD.

Dean feels it coming on. The weight of the world balanced on his shoulders, slipping out of place just slightly. He knows he doesn’t have long before it happens.

“Suck it up, dry those crocodile tears. Be a man.” He hears John echoing in his mind even now, over a decade later. But the memory only weakens his resolve faster. The cracks dissolve and reveals chasms he tries so desperately to conceal, the ones he sets the world upon. But now, everything is out of balance.

Rational thinking flies out the window. The clench in his chest threatens to condense him violently, like a dying star becoming a black hole. His breath has shallowed and quickened, but numbness follows too swiftly for him to take much notice. The tingling in his fingertips and lips tips him off.

Oh yeah, he is about to fucking blow. He spouts some stinging string of foul words he knows will keep Sam away. Dean doesn’t mean any of them, but he can’t do this. Not now. Not in front of Sam. For good measure, he throws his cell against the bunker wall, hardly hearing it shatter behind him as he nearly sprints down the hallway towards his room.

Try as he might, the stuttering strides barely get him safely concealed behind the door before the dam bursts and the world comes down in a rain of hellfire. His eyes are closed tightly and he’s falling, falling.

Falling in his mind endlessly, back to the pit, every face he’s ever failed flying by him in helpless cries. He loses all physical sensation, or thinks he does, ready to hit the ground and wonder where he got those bruises from the next day.

He’s ready to hit hard. Enough to jolt his chest, jumpstart his lungs to work again, shock his heart into beating regularly. Ready to reach blindly for the half drank bottle he knows is there, until everything is drowned. Until he is drowned. Until he wakes in the morning with a concussion and a hangover.

But the ground doesn’t come up to meet him. Rather, a warmth envelopes him. The hyperventilating has only made the numb tingling spread further through his veins, but as he is pulled in tightly, Dean can twist his hands into a familiar shirt.

Dean doesn’t know it yet, but Castiel felt his anguish. The first moment the episode was triggered, Cas was on his way to catch his human. And Cas was glad, too. He caught Dean just in time. He fell into a heap with Dean on top of him, haphazardly propped up in the corner. At first, Dean pushes at Cas. He shakes and pulls and twists away, but Cas only grips him tighter. Cas knows that the fighting is pure emotion and instinct. As expected, Dean finally allows himself to be held.

Cas closes his eyes and presses a palm into Dean’s forehead before running his glowing fingers through the hunters short, soft hair. The light fades as his hand finished its trek down Dean’s neck and shoulder, only coming to a rest over the hunter’s protesting heart.

This is not a break Cas’s grace can fix, and forcing him to sleep only delays the inevitable. So, he does the only other thing he knows.

Dean is completely pressed into him now, hands so coiled in Cas’s layers that the angel worries about his circulation. Bigger fish, Cas, he reminds himself. Of course, it’s Dean’s voice reminding him. The warmth is melting away at all those walls Dean constructs to keep the nasty things at bay and it flows freely now. If he could muster a coherent thought between the ragged breaths, he might be ashamed at himself for being so raw in front of another being. But it’s Cas. And if he could rationalize, it would be okay.

Cas drops his head forward, allowing his lips to brush just barely against Dean’s scalp. The hunter quakes and chokes. Cas only holds him tighter and begins to mumble a steady stream of Enochian praises. When those run repetitive, he begins to tell the story of creation, and how he was there, and about the constellations he’s created, and some even named after Dean.

He finds comfort in knowing that Dean doesn’t understand a word. What are hours to an angel? Nothing. But these hours? Everything. Castiel breathes in the scent of him as Dean gradually relaxes in his grip. Over time, each muscle twitches then falls limp. Dean’s breathing levels out until soft snores can be heard just over the gently swaying stream of Enochian whispers.

Begrudgingly, Cas softly tucks Dean into bed. Before he returns to where he’s needed, Cas stops to admire Dean. Look there. See? That peaceful look on his face, the bliss, that’s what Dean deserves. If it’s the last thing he ever does, Cas vows to make sure that peace stays with the hunter always.

Sandwiched between Death and The Empty, Cas tosses Dean to the side. He can finally be at peace, having spoken his truth at long last.

When the darkness is sucked out of the room, Dean is on the floor. This wasn’t right. Cas was supposed to be there to catch him before he fell, to hold him and tell him it was okay, and now he’s…

He can’t be.

This can’t be.

Cas was always there to catch him.

It can’t be.

Not like this.

If a vice weren’t crushing his throat, he would choke out the words flashing neon bright and slicing deep with every pulse.

I love you, too. You stupid idiot.

Why.

Why did you--

Why would you--

I love you…

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby @wonder-cole @itsangelpie @thinkinghardhardlythinking

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling @abbessolute @emptywithout

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

DESTIEL IS CANON:

@on-a-bender

*** Also I wrote this at 3am on no sleep slightly drunk and unbeta’d. Sorry.”””

#catch me cas #chris wrote something finally #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #angst #fluff #flangst #supernatural #15x18 #spn spoilers

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kidnappedbycartoons · 4 years

Text

Kiss & Make Up

Notes: I was debating if I should make the kiss at the party between Mason or Ava, but I decided to keep it as Mason for reasons that will be shown later. If you want to check out the previous post to this, here’s the link: https://kidnappedbychoices.tumblr.com/post/627715189011365888/were-just-friends

Pairing: Black!Ava X Black!MC (Serenity)

Word Count: 1,461

What's wrong with me? I ran after Mason, eager to discuss what just happened. We kissed. During that stupid Suck N Blow game. But I was confused. I always imagined that when Mason and I would kiss, there would be fireworks. Sparks. But I felt nothing. Nothing but emptiness. And yet, the only thing on my mind was how Noah felt and how--

"What the hell, Mason?" I winced as I saw Ava drunkenly stomping towards us. My heart dropped, remembering who Mason was to her and who she was to Mason. And who she was to me.

I froze when she held up her phone displaying the video on her screen. It was me and Mason, kissing. How could…? Why did…?

"Someone recorded us?" I asked, stupidly.

"It's blowing up on FaceSpace. Do you know how humiliating it is to see my so-called boyfriend kissing my so-called best friend?" I couldn't bring myself to look at her. The hurt and anger in her tone made me feel smaller than an ant. Why did I do that? Why did I kiss him? But why don't I feel anything?

The clip made the kiss seem more passionate than it felt. Looking at it, I noticed how Noah looked. The disappointment, the hurt, the betrayal, all because of me. I didn’t even have to look at Ava to know she felt the same thing, two times over.

I could barely register the exchange happening between Ava and Mason, until something she said caught my attention.

“This whole time we’ve been dating, I’ve felt on guard. I thought if I took my eyes off you for a minute, something like this would happen!” Ava glanced at me, her next words seeming to be directed towards me. “And it looks like I was right.”

What was that I said before? About not wanting to mess up my friendship with Ava again? Yeah, that’s long gone now. Whatever trust she had for me was gone and I don’t know what I could do to get it back.

“Ava, if an accident during a party game is enough to make you fly off the handle, then maybe we should just call it quits,” Mason barked at her. “I’ve been trying to be a good boyfriend. But if you didn’t trust me from day one, then we never worked at all.”

Ava didn’t deserve this. She could do better than Mason. She’s one of the most gorgeous, funny, and despite how she might be sometimes, when you have her in your corner, you couldn’t ask for a better friend. Ava can do better than Mason. Someone who she can trust, someone who she can lean on, and someone who can love her. I could do better than Mason. If I was a guy.

“Say what you want. Deep down, this is about Serenity, isn’t it? It always has been,” For some reason, there was a tinge of sadness in her voice. I knew I didn’t deserve to hold her, but the urge was there. God, I’m the worst. I’m the worst person in the whole world. Or at least America.

Mason stormed off and I couldn’t even bring myself to feel anything about it. The person I cared most about was looking at me, her eyes a mixture of emotions I couldn’t describe.

“And you, Serenity? We’re done.”

Those two words were enough to punch a hole through my chest. My throat felt tight, I wanted to yell out to her as she walked away while holding back tears. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell her the kiss didn’t mean anything. Why couldn’t I speak? Why did this hurt so much? Why did I hurt her?

***

It didn’t matter what I did. Anytime I tried to speak to Ava, she shut me down. I should’ve known she wouldn’t want to speak to me after what happened, but I still wanted to explain. I couldn’t stand her being mad at me. Even moments when she worried about me, like when Lauren dropped me, she still went back to her frosty ways after. Even when she chose Lauren as Crown Jewel and I walked away, she didn’t chase after me. Didn’t say a word. She let me go. And it hurt.

But now. Now I got to cheer at homecoming. And if anything, this was my last chance. I couldn’t go another day like this. I wanted Ava back. I needed her back.

“Serenity, you’re...back,” I noticed the slight smile before her face dissolved into shock. “You’re not grounded anymore?”

“Looks like I’ve been missed,” I kept my eyes on Ava, as the rest of the squad spoke about how they needed me. But I didn’t want to hear it from them.

“Looks like the squad has spoken,” I couldn’t describe what passed through Ava’s face. Relief, anger, shock, sadness.

“You…” I braced myself for her words. “You don’t get to just waltz in here and decide that! Not after you turned your back on us and walked out of practice.”

The fury was in her eyes, but there was something like longing as well. She missed me. I missed her. She’s torn. Please. Please let me in again, Ava.

“Don’t you worry about being the damn Crown Jewel. I’ll do it myself!” She stormed off and my feet moved before my brain could.

I followed her into the locker room, the sound of sobbing echoing off the walls. When I found her, my heart twisted at the redness in her eyes and the wet tears on her cheek.

“Ava? Are you okay?” Stupid question, and the look in her eyes let me know that.

“Do I look okay? I bet you’re eating this up right now.”

“Why would you think that?” How could she? I love her. As a friend. A best friend. I love her as a best friend. Yes. There.

“Just don’t. Don’t start pretending you care about me now,” I sat next to her, and she let me.

“Ava, I’m sorry about us,” I sighed before continuing. “You’re my best friend. I should never have betrayed you like that.”

I wanted to say more, but Ava spoke first.

“Thank you for that,” She looked up at me. “I trusted you more than anyone, Serenity.”

I wrapped an arm around her. And, despite her bristling, she leaned into me. Fit into me. Like two puzzle pieces. Like how friends should be.

“I don’t even mind that you’re into Mason, anymore,” I thought over her words. Into Mason? Am I into Mason? I know how I feel about Noah, but about Mason? Mason?

“I...I don’t even think I’m into Mason…” Silence followed, the sound of my heart racing the only thing I could hear in this locker room.

“Is it Noah?” Ava asked me, looking up at me. Honestly, how could someone be so beautiful? It’s like God gave up on everyone after her, because no one could compare. Even as she cried, she looked like a Goddess. She is. One of the fiercest people I have ever met. The most talented people I have ever met. The funniest people I have ever met.

I didn’t even realize that our faces were gradually getting closer. Or maybe my subconscious did. I should've moved, I should've stopped, but I couldn't. Not until I felt my lips press against her soft ones. This kiss was different than the one with Mason or the ones with Noah. I felt something blossom within me and wrap around my chest and my head. All of my senses became numb as I pressed against Ava. She didn't push me away. No, instead she snaked her hand around my neck and pulled me closer. A siren went off in my head. This is wrong. Friends don't do this. I shouldn't do this.

Ava must've read my mind because she pulled away from me, her eyes staring down at her knees. I licked my lips, the taste of her lip balm on my tongue. I wanted more. Wait. No, I don't. No, I don't.

"Uh...we should get back to practice," My voice came out more strained than I meant. Ava didn't spare a single glance at me as she stood up.

"Yeah…and the crown jewel is yours…" Her voice trailed off as if there was more she wanted to say. There was more I wanted to say. But both of us couldn't speak. We just left the locker room, not touching or looking at each other. But I wanted to. I don't know what I was feeling. And Noah walking up to me, confused me even more. I thought I knew what I wanted. Turns out, I'm more confused than ever.

#my two first loves #choices mtfl #mtfl ava #ava lawrence #playchoices #choices stories you play

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sweeethinny · 4 years

Text

Reputation - End Game (Chapter 2)

Hello, another chapter, and again I am talking about how much fun it was to write this. Remembering that the chapters do not necessarily follow an order. Hope you like it!

AO3

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I wanna be your end game I wanna be your first string

''Are you alright?’’ Harry was leaning against the back doorframe, arms and legs crossed, assessing Ginny's every move as if he wanted to take a picture in his mind so he would never forget it.

She didn't blame him, she had imagined him for the past year, just to make things with the Carrows less… intense.

''Yes and you?'' They were alone for the first time in weeks. With Ron and Hermione going to travel to Australia, their brothers going home (George continued at The Burrow, but he had gone with his father somewhere) and her mother who didn't seem to want to spend much time there when everything was quiet, it was just her and Harry. And it could become dangerous, eventually.

''The same as always ... want help?’’ He followed her movements, looking too much at analysis that Ginny was cutting vegetables for dinner, going to her side.

''No, thanks'' Anger bubbled up in her stomach, and she wanted to yell at him, about how he could disappear, appear (almost die!) And now act as if nothing has ever happened.

''Gin''

I wanna be your A-Team I wanna be your end game, end game

''What, Harry? My mom will really fight if I don't-- ''

''--I missed you. Every day'' As she didn't cut a finger off her, Ginny would never know ''And I wanted to say that before but ... er ... it never seemed the right time'' Harry looked bewildered, still too thin for her mother to stop to force him to repeat the dish twice at every meal, with cut hair (Molly did a great job) and a thin beard growing from his chin, making him more attractive than Ginny had ever seen. But she bet that it was also because of all the time away.

''It was a little complicated for me too'' Her heart beat loudly, with unhappy memories of the past year flooding mind, her voice coming out a little too sarcastically

"That's why I ... Shit Ginny, I didn't want any of that shit to happen to you"

''Well, we don't have the best reputation with the world of darkness, do we? You and I had some experiences with You-Know-Who that, by themselves, already make us be hated.'' Shrugged, not thinking she could tell that The Carrows loved hearing about the gossip about their relationship.

Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah And you heard about me Ooh, I got some big enemies

''Sorry'' Harry and she looked at each other, he looked even more disconcerted, his eyes so sad that the green had a gray background that Ginny really wanted to take off by herself ''For not being there for you'' They were close, too close for her to be able to think of something coherent, to think of something that was not a reminder of how she missed his kisses, or how he played with her hair, barely realizing that he was doing it

''You had to save the wizarding world'' She shrugged again, biting her cheek

''This whole noble and stupid thing, I know'' Harry laughed, a small light seeming to rise inside him

''People loved talking about us ... You don't know the things we did. It's ashamed of anyone'' She let her barriers go down. Seeing Harry there, alive, seemed to matter more than the conflicting feelings. Maybe later she would scream and take all that anger and fear out of her, but now, he seemed much more attractive than all that drama.

Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me would be a big conversation Ah, and I heard about you Ooh, You like the bad ones, too

Ginny could only pay attention to how she missed that idiot, that characteristic smell of him, his green eyes ... his completely.

Harry was the only one who understood her, who understood Tom and all the shit that came with him, who knew what it was like to be haunted. He was the only one who could make her anger dissolve and make room for that longing that consumed her for all months, the only one who managed to make her feel alive again, even if she did nothing. Just having Harry there was a lot.

''I thought about you''

''You already said something like that'' Joked, wanting to break that tension

''No'' Ah, that little smile ... ''I had to sacrifice myself. I needed to do this. And when I got there ... II thought about you ... before I died ''

You so dope, don't overdose I'm so stoked, I need a toast We do the most I'm in the Ghost like I'm whippin' a boat I got a reputation girl, that don't precede me I'm one call away, whenever you need me

What did you say after that?

Harry smiled sadly, running his fingers over her cheek as if to remember what the contact was like, getting even closer, keeping his green eyes locked on her. Ginny almost asked if he felt as ... alive, as she did.

''You were the best thing that happened to me, Gin. By far. And I don't even know if I deserved it.''

''Are you going to tell me you love me? Because if it is, stop this self-sabotage first. You deserve as much as anyone else to be happy. In fact, by my calculations, it is what it deserves to be the most.'' She didn't know where all that courage had come from, but it was Harry who was there, that boy who seemed to mess with her whole system and break all the walls that she built daily to protect herself

''I love you'' He laughed, looking much more sincere than the embarrassed laugh he gave whenever someone came to congratulate him on winning the war ''I wish I could have protected you better '' His thumb ran across a thin scar on her cheek, which she barely remembered when won

''I don't need to'' She reminded him, biting her cheek to keep from stupid tears. It was one of those moments when she felt too vulnerable, naked in front of a crowd.

''But I wanted. I would easily die for you, Gin. ''

I'm in a G5 Come to the A side I got a bad boy persona that's what they like You love it I love it too 'cause you my type You hold me down and I protect you with my life

''I prefer you alive'' She said, fiddling with his black sweatshirt as if wanted to find a way out, Harry seemed to swallow all the air around them ''Is it better you know? The dynamics of dating a ghost, it must suck'' Hearing his laughter was like a prize. If she could, she would do more

''And our dynamics?'' The boy blushed like a tomato, in that timid and chivalrous way that only The Chosen One could do ''I mean-'' Cleared his throat ''If you have someone else .. ''

''I'm dating, Harry'' His face paled, his mouth opening in a small O, his eyes seeming to turn that green / gray. Ginny held back her laugh, her sadomasochistic self being fed with that ''I never stopped, in fact'' Consciousness realized to hit like a punch, the color coming back into his beautiful face. ''I wouldn't let you be single around. Not when a lot of girls wanted to be The Chosen One'' She rolled her eyes

I don't wanna touch you Just another ex-love I don't wanna miss you Like the other girls do

''Jealous, Gin? I thought you were better than that'' The redhead lifted her chin, looking at him defiantly

'’Never, Potter. I know my place'' Harry finally put his other hand on her waist, sticking to their bodies like an old memory of the beautiful times in the gardens of Hogwarts ''I don't know if it was clear that I love you too'' She smiled, taking her hands to his face, feeling the chill run through her body when the roughness of his beard touched her fingers

''I missed you'' Their faces slowly approached, as if to enjoy the feeling of euphoria that preceded them, and Ginny felt completely alive when her lips touched him. It was still sweet, gentle, and overpowering.

Their tongues touched as if it were the first time, gradually getting to know the territory, but soon seeming to remember each other. He squeezed her waist and pulled her even closer, as possible, as she lifted her hands to that soft, cut (but still rebel) hair, scraping her nails into his hairy crown as she remembered he liked it, listening to him growl throat, as if confirming.

''I want to do it right this time'' he whispered close to her lips, as if it were their secret, only theirs. ''If you don't mind being The Chosen One'' He joked making her laugh, finally opening her eyes to see him staring at her, with those long, dark lashes casting a shadow on the emerald green pupil. ''Or being a reason for gossip'' Harry had the courage to feel ashamed

I don't wanna hurt you (I just wanna be) Drinkin' on a beach with (You all over me) I know what they all say (I know what they all say) But I ain't tryna play

''I don't care, I already told you ... But explain yourself'' Ginny hugged the boy's neck, standing on tiptoe a little to look at him better, barely remembering the vegetables that should be cut

''You know'' He shrugged, blushing again ''Not just making out under a tree ... these things''

''Ah, but I liked that'' He laughed, lifting her up and taking her to the table, placing her sitting there, his callused and bruised hands on her thigh, causing chills

"You will return?" Ginny nodded, already knowing she would be alone again. But this time, not because he was on a suicide mission

''I'm going to take the Auror test'' He commented, looking strange ''They'll love making this a big deal''

"Yes, but I really don't care, Harry. It'll be fun to see the things they'll come up with.'' She pulled the strings on her sweatshirt, bringing him closer, before closing her legs around his narrow hips ''If you promise me you won't run away and leave me back. .. ''

''I promise'' His smile was big, and it looked totally real. "But what if I invite you one day ..?"

''To run away? Of course I will ''

Knew her when I was young Reconnected when we were little bit older Both sprung, I got issues and chips on both of my shoulders Reputation precedes me, in rumors I'm knee deep The truth is it's easier to ignore it, believe me

Harry kissed her again, this time much more hungry and hurried than before, his fingers firmly on her waist, seeming to want to dig holes in there, reminding her a lot of times when they weren't so calm in the castle grounds. Their tongues dueled in that way that made her transcend to some distance that only the two lived

Her hips jutted forward, brushing against him with a promise of something, whimpering as his thighs tightened further.

Ginny almost smiled until she teared her face when she felt him nudge her in the thigh, a magnificent reminder that she was still messing with him

Harry groaned in her mouth, biting her lip and spreading her hips as if she burned. Always a gentleman

Even when we'd argue, we don't do it for long And you understand the good and bad, end up in the song For all your beautiful traits, and the way you do it with ease For all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities

''Sorry ... er .. for that'' His face contorted in a mixture of pain and confusion, his eyes looking like flames

''Don't apologize for getting hard'' She gave him another kiss, letting him stay a little distant ''I like to know that I move with you'' Ginny moved closer to Harry's ear, feeling confident enough to whisper; '' If you could see how you do this to me too ... ''

''Don't be mean, Weasley'' Harry closed his eyes, his thick voice tickling her neck, before walking away as if he could breathe properly. ''Shouldn't you finish your work with the vegetables? I don't know if your mother would like to see you talking this bullshit.'' Ginny laughed, happy to finally have him back there, to return everything as normal as possible. She had missed it more than she imagined.

''She would say I'm corrupting the innocent Harry Potter'' She raised her red eyebrow as if expected the contradiction

''I can tell you already did this when you were strolling naked in my dreams'' And for the first time since Harry left on his mission, Ginny laughed, throwing her head back and all, her chest swelling with happiness.

I've made mistakes, and made some choices that's hard to deny After the storm, something was born on the fourth of July I've passed days without fun, this endgame is the one With four words on the tip of my tongue, I'll never say

Some years later...

"Did you see what they said about us?" Ginny threw the newspaper on the table, a little irritated, a little laughing

''About you ... '' He cleared his throat, making a strong accent ''Is it taking too long to give the Chosen One an heir? '' Harry raised an eyebrow, smiling from the corner and seeming to find a lot of fun in everything

''Yes. That cow still had the pleasure of saying that you are screwing me. What does she know? Was she at our window for our last few fucks, making sure we're using contraceptives? '' He shrugged, cutting a slice of cake and taking it to the plate

''Maybe she knew you came to live with me'' It was true, Ginny had been there (with all her things) for a couple of months, but since leaving Hogwarts, she had been spending more time there than anywhere else. The difference was that now, there were no excuses about 'be without clean clothes' to be able to walk around naked or in his shirts.

''Someone should give her a good black eye to look after ''

''Luv, I don't think punching Rita is good for your reputation'' She shrugged, sipping her tea

''Well, at least she'll have reason to call me crazy'' Harry laughed, looking happy even though it was snowing like never before and it was less than eight in the morning. He had been smiling a lot more since they got it right.

''I don't know what would become of me without you, Gin'' Smiling, the redhead blinked and threw a red tentacle backwards, lifting her chin proudly

''Nothing'' She stood up, going meticulously to his lap, placing each leg on one side of his hips, playing with black hair and enjoying feeling the strong arms around her ''You talk about me, but on page 14 to a huge news about 'Harry Potter and the fight in the Aurors' '' The man shrugged, licking his sugar-stained lips and looking at her as if he were still the most precious thing he had ever seen. But much more man and sure of himself, than with 16/17 years.

''What can I do? Drama haunts me ''

I hit you like bang We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't And I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em Reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me

''I'm sure you do'' She kissed him passionately, delighting in the sweet taste in his mouth, and in all that tremor she felt when her boyfriend's hands squeezed her, bringing her closer, and seeming to guarantee that Once she felt it in all its glory ''You're going to be late'' Harry caught her lips again, running a hand on her back, squeezing the back of her neck so she could stay there

''I think they will thank you for not having me for an hour .. That asshole Baxter says so'' Leaving him just to see his face, Ginny stared at him, green eyes still burning with lust, his mouth it was a little red from making out, and there was that little scar next to her left eye, almost imperceptible, but that she had noticed

''Why did you fight with him? In addition to him being a complete idiot, of course’’ Harry exhaled, adjusting his glasses before returning his hand to her waist

''Because I'm not going to work with someone who looks like a Neanderthal'' Ginny laughed, amused at the way he pretended to be tough ''Now please stop talking about him, and come over here '' Before she could get her order , he pushed her away "Ah, what Rita said .. "

'' ..I don't care'' The wizarding world seemed to love talking about them, and about possible marriages, and betrayals, and babies. As always, Harry and Ginny were great reasons for gossip. ''Fuck her. In fact, if she's around, we'll give her one more reason to comment on our sex.''

And I can't let you go, your hand prints on my soul It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold

The boyfriend looked on fire, his eyes darkening, while that smug smile appeared on his handsome face. She was spoiling him too much.

"Ginny .."

'' .. Skip the romanticism, I'm excited Potter, just do your job'' The man laughed, holding her face and smiling from ear to ear

"Marry me, Gin"

''Alright'' Harry looked surprised, almost as if he had been shocked or punched, still keeping her face in his hands, but moving away a little further

''I'm serious'' He took a black box out of his pocket ''I've been going through this for a week''

You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks So here's the truth from my red lips

Ginny didn't know what to say. She had been thinking about many things to do with Harry, since she was 10 years old fantasizing about a great and perfect love, so at 15 when the thing seemed real, everything fell apart, and at 16, when they came back, she just wanted to live in the present, not caring about the years to come, not even if he would order one day.

The ring in the box was delicate, a diamond cut at the top, not as flashy as the one Percy had given Audrey, but perfect for her, much more than she could ever imagine

"Oh ... that's what .."

'' ..Yes, the rat saw me with that woman because we were choosing the ring for you. Julia was very helpful, more than Hermione and Ron together '' Her eyes prickled, her throat closing in emotion ''Er .. do you still accept?'' They finally looked at each other, Harry looking minimally scared and shy, the that made a tear come down lonely. She hated it when she saw him doubting the love that people could have for him.

''Don't be stupid, of course I do'' When her laugh sounded nervous, she calmed down, accompanying him ''It's beautiful. Perfect'' Her hand was shaking, not unlike Harry's, now that he put the ring on her finger as if it were born to be there, fitting like a glove ''I love you'' Guaranteed ''Suck this Rita, it seems like someone is no longer being rolled up!'' Her fiance - FIANCE !!! - laughed, seeming to explode with happiness, lifting her in his lap and placing her sitting on the table, smiling like a predatory wolf

''Well, Mrs Potter'' Ginny winced when his mouth strolled around her neck, his head falling back in order to guarantee full light to him, his beard causing delicious chills ''We need to celebrate properly''

'' You're going to be late '' She had the presence of mind to say, moaning when she felt a hand massaging her breast

''I dont care''

I wanna be your first string I wanna be your A Team I wanna be your endgame

#hinny #hinnyheadcanon #hinnyprompt #hinny au #Harry Potter #harry X ginny #fanfic prompt #harry auror #ginnyPOTTER #Ginny #hp fanfic #hp and the deathly hallows #hp couples #hp post epilogue #read-a-hinny-fic #my fic #reputation #end game

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jimkirkachu · 3 years

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Crush advice! Can't send links here but google "Metro How to handle a crush without losing your mind" for some handy tips - but also; if it's a celebrity or personality, DO let yourself enjoy their work and energy; "relax into it"; have private fantasies (it doesn't hurt anyone); just don't beat yourself up. Talk it over too. Google "vinazine HOW TO DEAL WITH HEARTBREAK OVER A CELEBRITY CRUSH" and take note of point #1 xxx

(yet another long/questionably-triggery response)

Anon, I need to buy a vowel because omg you're so sweet 💜😭 It really is easy to hate myself for all of this... especially when you throw major depression, anxiety, ptsd, etc. on top of it all. 🤦

There's so much confused humility in this whole equation for me, honestly, because I still can't actually pin down any truths concerning my identity. Am I really demisexual? Am I only using the label to try and make myself feel better about how undesirable I am/have always been to all other humans? Am I just afraid of being attracted to anyone because I was abused for so long? The imposter syndrome is at hull-breach levels these days, particularly now that it's Pride month. Do I even fit into any of the Pride categories? (I've never fit in anywhere else, so why start now?) I don't understand my gender, or my sexuality, or even the slightest thing about my place in the world. I've almost never been proud of anything I've ever done or been. I've never been comfortable in my body or mind. I've never had a legitimate "romantic relationship." I've never in my life felt that I was "enough," whether for family or friends or crushes or professors or employers... So am I attracted to this person because they at least appear outwardly to be so confident in their identity? Have I confused attraction with jealousy over their career, since they're succeeding at the "dream job" it took me 15 agonizing years to accept I was perfectly *un*suited for? Is it purely a physical thing, and I'm just being idiotic and shallow? Or... was the black hole gradually dissolving my will to live not large enough already, so the universe stepped in to mockingly remind me for the millionth time of all the beautiful types of experiences and relationships out there that I have for at least a decade been painfully, abundantly aware I'll never be able to have? I wish I knew.

...yikes, sorry to get all depressing and dark. 😥💔🤐

All this considered, though, I love the content they post, I love all the positive energy and enthusiasm they bring to the fandom, and... the thought of them *not* being precisely who they are, *not* having their blog, or in any way *not* being their magnificent, authentic self is devastating. And for all the anguish of a crush, it is addicting/exciting to think about them and what they might be like in person, what the rest of their life is like outside of their blog, what it would feel like to be in their presence, etc. *sigh* Obviously I'm bad at the fantasizing thing, lol. (And besides not wishing myself on anyone, I also have no idea what their sexuality or relationship status is so... I feel weirdly guilty about that. 🥲) I blush just imagining making eye contact with them, having them run their fingers through my hair, holding my hand, smiling at me... SCANDALOUS!!! I feel like I should mark this as an explicit post now 😂🙊 It's so bizarre being touch averse and touch deprived all at the same time!! 🧠💥

Thank you so much for the links and advice, sweet anon. 💜 I'm so grateful for everyone who has tried to help me get through this; I just wish I could repay the favors and be as supportive and kind to all of you as you've been to me. Anyway--thanks again and LLAP, dear. 🫂💛💙🖖

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skin--slave · 4 years

Text

Marilyn Manson Albums as Jello Shot Recipes

Portrait Of An American Family:

2 pkg shoplifted jello, red or purple

2 cups water

1 cup pineapple vodka from the bottle dad keeps in the garage

Microwave one cup of water in a yellow Tupperware bowl for 2 minutes. Burn hands taking it out. Dump jello powder in. Stir until dissolved. Pour vodka in. Get a huge hit of alcohol vapor in the face. Put lid on container and put a piece of masking tape on it that says "Brussels sprouts." Refrigerate in the crisper under the celery until 2am. Add remaining cup of water to the vodka bottle and put it back. Enjoy lumpy sludge from permanently-stained bowl in the dark while playing air guitar along with your Walkman.

Smells Like Children:

1 pkg lime jello

1 pkg unflavored gelatin

1 cup hot tap water

1/4 cup Rebel Yell whiskey

1/4 cup cherry brandy

1/2 cup beer

Don't bother heating the water. It's probably hot enough. Add jello and gelatin. Stir. Realize it's not hot enough, but refuse to heat it up. Let it sit on the counter while you collect the other ingredients. Stir some more. Add alcohol. Keep stirring. Note that it's now a disgusting greenish brown and smells like a public men's room. Put the bowl in the refrigerator with no lid. Go out with friends and vandalize things. Come home drunk. Wake up with empty bowl beside you in bed.

Antichrist Superstar:

1 pkg cherry jello

1 pkg grape Flavor Aid

1 bottle (750ml) Taaka vodka

Open bottle. Carefully add jello and drink powder. Cover mouth of bottle with thumb. Shake vigorously until mixture turns black. Chug half. Pour remaining half on self. Throw bottle into the crowd.

Mechanical Animals:

1 pkg orange jello

1 pkg peach jello

1 cup water

1 and 1/4 cup Everclear, divided

1 can Mandarin oranges

Whipped cream

Plastic wine glasses

Run water through hotel coffee maker. Add jello to carafe. Stir until dissolved. Let mixture cool to room-temperature. Meanwhile, drain orange segments and pat dry on a white bathroom towel. Give zero fucks about the orange stains. Put oranges in a paper coffee cup and pour 1/4 cup Everclear over. Jerk off while they steep. Add remaining liquor to carafe and stir. Divide infused orange segments between glasses. Pour jello mix over the top. Place in hotel refrigerator until after the show. Enjoy jello and very impressed groupies with whipped cream.

Holy Wood (In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death):

1 pkg instant chocolate pudding

1 cup chocolate liquor

1 cup milk

1 pkg unflavored gelatin

1/2 cup water

1/4 cup coffee liquor

Plastic cups

Whisk milk and chocolate liquor until well blended. Add pudding mix and continue whisking until completely dissolved. Pour pudding into cups, leaving ample headroom. Refrigerate at least 30 mins. Sprinkle gelatin over water in heat-safe container. Let stand at least 10 minutes while watching the news. Heat gelatin mixture until melted. Stir to dissolve. Set container in fridge to cool. Read the newspaper. Add coffee liquor to gelatin mixture. Pour over pudding in cups. Refrigerate 2hrs or until high school lets out. Enjoy the juxtaposition of childhood desserts with the bitterness and poison of adulthood.

The Golden Age Of Grotesque:

2 pkg unflavored gelatin

1 cup water

1/4 cup gin

1/2 cup champagne

2 Tbs fresh lemon juice

2 Tbs simple syrup

Individual half-sphere molds

Fresh lemon zest, black edible glitter and sugared violets for garnish

Sprinkle gelatin over water in a bain-marie (or a double boiler if you're poor). Let stand 10 minutes while you pick out your eye shadow. Heat gradually, stirring to dissolve. Allow to cool slightly. Add lemon juice, simple syrup, gin and champagne. Pour into half-sphere molds and refrigerate until firm (about 3 hours or as long as it takes to do your makeup). Carefully unmold. Press the base into black edible glitter and arrange on a serving platter. Top each with lemon zest and a single violet. Enjoy with people who deserve you.

Eat Me, Drink Me:

1 pkg strawberry jello

1 pkg unflavored gelatin

1 cup water

1 cup Kraken black rum

Fresh strawberries

Dipping chocolate, optional

Using a strawberry huller or paring knife, carefully cut the centers from strawberries. Hollow each berry out to mirror the hole in your heart. Save tops. Place each berry in a small paper cup to hold upright. Heat water and add gelatin to dissolve. Allow to cool slightly. Add rum and stir well. Transfer to a container with a spout for ease of pouring. Carefully fill each berry with gelatin mixture, just as your life is filled with failures and disappointments. Replace tops to hide the darkness. Refrigerate until firm, crying as necessary. Dip berries in chocolate if desired. Serve to those who have hurt you so that they can know what it is to find the inevitable black center of every romance.

The High End Of Low:

1 pkg blue raspberry jello

1 pkg watermelon or strawberry jello

1 cup water, divided

1 bottle (750ml) alcohol of choice

Heat 1/2 cup water in each of 2 separate coffee mugs. Wonder why you own coffee mugs when you don't drink coffee. Overthink that as a metaphor for life. Realize the water's getting cold. Add 1 jello pkg to each. Stir slowly, watching the granules try to dissolve. What's that sound? Answer the phone. Insist that you're fine. Go back to staring at the jello mixtures. Absently add one to the other, playing with the colors. Decide to see how the mixture looks on a canvas. Take the bottle with you. Close the door. Stay there for 3 days. Do not enjoy it.

Born Villain:

2 pkg unflavored gelatin

1 cup water

1/2 cup Smirnoff vodka, any flavor

2-3 tsp each magnesium citrate, pickle or sauerkraut juice, Sprite, liquid sweetener, salt water, Tabasco, clam juice, apple or grape juice, clear liquors in various flavors

1 pkg (4 colors: red, blue, yellow, green) liquid food coloring

Small paper cups

Twister spinner

Sprinkle gelatin over water in glass 2-cup measuring cup. Let stand 10 minutes. Microwave 1 minute. Stir to dissolve. Let cool slightly. Meanwhile, add 1 tsp of an assorted liquid to each cup. Arrange randomly on a table. Add vodka to gelatin mixture and stir. Pour into prepared cups. Add a drop of food coloring to each cup, alternating colors. Stir each with a toothpick. Refrigerate 2 hours or until set. Invite people over. Take turns spinning and choosing shots. Wait for someone to vomit or shit their pants. Call it performance art. Enjoy thourally.

The Pale Emperor:

1 pkg unflavored gelatin

1/2 cup water, divided

4 sugar cubes or 4 tsp sugar

1/2 cup Powers Irish whiskey

16 dashes Agnostura bitters

1 tsp orange zest, optional

Sprinkle gelatin over 1/4 cup water. Let stand 10 minutes. Heat remaining water. Add sugar and stir to dissolve. Don't worry if there are some granules left. You're a grown man. Add hot syrup to gelatin mixture. Stir to dissolve gelatin. Add orange zest if desired. Stir in whiskey and bitters. Refrigerate until set. Enjoy alone while taking stock of your life and feeling good about your accomplishments.

Heaven Upside Down:

1 pkg watermelon or strawberry jello

1 pkg blue raspberry jello

1 cup water, divided

2/3 cup decent vodka, divided

6-10 ice cubes

Gold edible glitter

Heat 1/2 cup water in each of 2 separate containers. Add one pkg of jello to each. Stir well and let cool. Lightly oil a standard loaf pan and place in the freezer to chill. Add 1/3 cup vodka to each cooled gelatin mixture. Stir well. Add 3-5 ice cubes to each bowl and stir until ice melts. Gelatin should be thickened but not set. Spoon randomly into chilled pan. Tap bottom of pan against counter to reduce air pockets. Refrigerate 1 hr or until set. Unmold onto a platter and slice. Sprinkle with glitter. Enjoy with loyal friends.

#marilyn manson albums as #marilyn manson #jelloshots #recipes #sorry long post #im on mobile #so no breaks 😒#but i thought you might like these #been thinking about making jello shots for st patricks day #jello is good for you #and so is marilyn manson #😏😏😏#pickman got freaked out i think bc my knee got fucked while i was working out and i yelped and cursed #he was waiting when i came upstairs #and hes been clingy ever since #so while he was laying on my tiddies being a very sweet boy #i made dis #q

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cold-ugly · 4 years

Text

🥀 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖉 & 𝖚𝖌𝖑𝖞 chapter 1

Sleepless hours trickled past as I lay huddled under a fortress of blankets, waiting for the alarm to go off. I rubbed my stinging eyes, and sat up in bed, shivering in the freezing AC. I hastened to quiet my alarm before it woke the prison wardens - that's a special word for family. With all my will, I removed myself from the blanket fortress, and flipped on the light, blinking in stark contrast to the pitch darkness I found security in. I glanced at the mirror on my wall, disappointed but not surprised. As I stood up, haze clouded my vision, and static flooded my head.

I fell back onto the bed in a rush of pins and needles. I sank onto my knees to the floor from my bed, to hastily retrieve my clothes scattered upon the floor. I squeezed into my sports bra, and began the lengthy process of layering tank tops with shirts with sweaters with hoodies, leggings with jeggings with sweatpants, socks with socks with socks - and more socks. I struggled to get my socked feet into my red sneakers. Into my pockets, I stuffed my phone and headphones, and a little box with my pipe, bud, and a lighter. I sipped on water as I peeked out the window, noticing that the sun had yet to rise, before I began the descent into madness. I turned off the light, closed my door without a sound, and tiptoed down the tiled hall to silently slip out the front door. I stashed my little pot box beneath an evergreen, then trudged up the hill towards the sidewalk.

I gave a few shakes of each leg to loosen my muscles, as I plugged in the headphones and chose my playlist of songs with intense climaxes and heavy breakdowns. At the first note, my heart rate preemptively elevated. I sprang into a light jog, the piercingly cold November air practically slicing my cheeks. The sun was only a tease of dim light hidden behind the horizon. Being atop a tall hill, I gazed below onto the misty winter countryside, the barren trees floating by as I sprinted. The burning in my fingers and toes subsided into numbness, and each dry breath hitched in my sore chest. With each footstep I felt the reverberation of my jiggling thighs. As my stomach cramped, and I wanted to lay down in the frosted grass, I rested my hand onto my absent ribs, snuffed under layers of clothes and flesh. I ran harder. I didn't count laps, there was no end goal, no ribbon, no finish line, no winning this race. I'm finished when my knees buckle, until the next moonlit morning.

Panting, nearly heaving, I trudged downhill, the melting frost soaking through my worn-down sneakers. Once safe behind the evergreen, sheltered from any prying eyes, I unpacked my little box. I squatted to use my thighs as a table (they're surely huge enough) to set down the pipe as I packed in the fluffy weed. After several failed attempts, I finally managed to light the bowl with my numb fingers. The first breath of warm smoke after I'd been gasping such freezing air burned my hoarse throat, and as it filled my lungs I relaxed. With my exhale, I released a gorgeous cloud that dissolved into the gradually lightening sky.

I snuck back into the living room, the AC nearly as cold as outside. As my door clicked shut, the first stirrings of morning life emerged. Through our shared wall, my sister's alarm blared incessantly. I shed my layers, tossing them back to the floor where I found them, slipped on my black fuzzy robe, and tied my unwashed hair into a greasy bun. I stuffed my headphones and tiny bud box into the front pocket of my leather backpack, then headed toward the bathroom. On my way, I heard my mom's door creak open, and I hurriedly slipped away behind the safety of a locked door. I ran the water hot, tossed the robe onto the counter, and stepped into the delightful ecstacy of warmth. As I looked to the water spiralling down the drain, I noticed the strawberry-red color of my fingertips and toes thawing. I shivered under the water for who knows how long, until rapid knocks interrupted my peace. I shut off the water and bundled myself in a towel, grabbed my robe, and opened the door.

"You took a shower, but you didn't wash your hair? That's disgusting." My sister remarked. "Save it, I never see you brush your teeth. Your teeth are gonna end up like your brain: full of holes." I shoved past her and hustled back to my room, sighing in annoyance. I dried off and quickly dressed in a huge grey sweater over a t-shirt, and black fleece-lined leggings. After taking down my hair, I tried to brush it but gave up, and tied it back in a high ponytail. I checked my phone to see no texts, set an alarm for fifteen minutes, and placed it on my desk. I opened my laptop, turned on some music, and went to Minecraft. After the fifteen minutes was up, I zipped up my boots and threw my backpack over my shoulder. I headed to the kitchen to retrieve my half-gallon of lemon water from the fridge. My mom was standing at the counter adding splenda to her black coffee. "Good morning," she croaked. "Good morning," I echoed politely as possible, grabbing my water and setting it on the counter next to my sister's sequined lunchbox. On cue, she appeared, and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet next to me. As she poured her lucky charms, mom commented, "Why don't you eat the cheerios? You know that shit is loaded with sugar. Y'know it can cause cancer-"

"Mom, c'mon," my sister interjected, "it's already in the bowl." I rolled my eyes and headed toward the door. My mom called after me, "So what, no breakfast?"

"I eat at school, you keep forgetting."

"They serve you crap there. You're letting them kill you."

"Them and everyone else," I grabbed my coat from its hook on the wall, and left.

Secure again behind the evergreen, I squatted to pack my second bowl, and puffed it as I scrolled mindlessly on my phone. My instagram and school email each had several notifications that I continued to diligently neglect. To my right, someone's footsteps crunched in the grass. I peeked through the leaves, relieved to see my sister's pink coat. She ducked behind the tree with me, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket.

"Now that is disgusting," I commented as she lit one of her cancer-sticks. She dismissively shrugged her shoulders. After all of mom's lectures that everything is a carcinogen, it's no wonder my sister is so desensitized. We smoked in silence until we heard the distant screech of the bus braking at the top of the hill. I stashed my box underneath the tree in a shallow hole, and covered it with leaves. We sprinted to the bus stop, joining the rest of the high schoolers in the neighborhood as they filed into the musty vehicle. I took an empty seat near the middle and put my backpack next to me, while my sister went to sit with her friend group at the very back. I plugged in my headphones, adjusted my coat, and took my notebook from my backpack to finish the homework I should’ve done a week ago.

I dropped off my backpack in front of my first class on my way to the breakfast line. As I queued with the other students, I scrolled through the fashion inspiration pictures saved in my phone, in a special folder. My heart shattered at each flawless photo of people my age flaunting the clothes I wished I could wear. While moving slowly through the line, I grabbed a gatorade zero and an apple juice. Walking back to my first class, I passed several people I’d grown up with since elementary school, and as they talked amongst themselves like any happy normal teen, I seemed to phase right through them. I took my assigned seat near the front, and placed my notebook on the desk to hurriedly finish the homework.

Students rushed through the door as the bell rang. Whoever sits in front of me appeared to be absent, so I propped my feet up in the seat. I was still scribbling the last few answers onto my paper as the national anthem blasted over the intercom. My peers shot nasty looks at me as I remained seated while they stood. After all the sheep had finished baa-ing the pledge of allegiance, the teacher called for homework to be passed to the front. Amidst a symphony of zipping backpacks and rustling papers, two girls in the row next to me obnoxiously squabbled over a phone. “Let me see it!” one wailed. I sipped my apple juice while I observed the girls grappling to rip the phone out of the other’s hand. As they wrestled for the phone, it flew, like a projectile, and knocked the bottle out of my hand. I gasped in shock as the juice splashed all over me.

“What’s going on?” the teacher demanded. I sped over to her and presented my drenched clothes. “Can I please go change? I spilled my drink. I’m sorry,” I replied. “Oh, okay, go ahead. I’ll call the janitor.” I grabbed my backpack, and rushed out of the room.

I took a detour to my locker and grabbed my gym bag on the way to the bathroom. Once locked in the very back stall, I dropped my coat to the floor and pulled my sweater over my head. Relieved that my undershirt was surprisingly dry, I dug in my gym bag for a new long-sleeve. I pulled out the sneakers, shorts, and socks, emptied the bag, and my heart sank. The long-sleeve wasn’t there. Why the fuck isn’t my shirt in here? I sighed and held my head in my hands. What the fuck am I going to do? I shoved the wet clothes into my gym bag, put my sneakers on them, and stuffed in the clean clothes on top. Sitting on the bathroom floor, I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my arm on them. Damn it. Now I remember that I took my gym shirt home yesterday because I wanted to switch it with the red one, but I forgot to bring the red one today. Typical.

On my way down the hall, I noticed the custodian leaving my classroom. “Sir,” I called after him, “I’m so sorry you had to clean up my mess. Must have been a sticky situation." He chuckled, “It’s no issue, I’ve seen worse.” I smiled, and told him to have a good day. As I returned to my seat, the teacher called my name. “This is the assignment, hon, it’s just questions one through twenty on page 103 of your textbook. If you do twenty through thirty, you'll get bonus points,” she handed me the paper. As I outstretched my hand to take it, I followed her gaze to my lacerated forearm. I snatched the paper and hustled back to my seat, where I took out the textbook from my backpack and flipped through the pages. God, she saw my arm. She's going to tell on me, fuck, they're gonna call my mom again. How can I get out of this? What page did she say? 130? 113? I consulted the board, and saw it was blank. With no shoulder in front of me to peek over, I strained to glance at the neighboring row, and frantically combed through my book to find a page that looked similar to theirs. Someone got up and turned in their assignment before I even found the correct page.

Sitting in my second class, I skimmed over my notes for the test while I waited for the bell to ring. My left palm remained flat on the cold desk, sheltering my forearm. Throughout the class, I tried to be so invisible as to draw no attention to myself. I labored on each answer of the test, in an effort to bring up my grade, and consequently quiet my mom’s bickering. As I glanced around the room, I noticed other students finishing up while I lagged behind.

Knock knock.

My heart skipped a beat.

“Is Ren here?” asked a student assistant from the guidance counsellor’s office.

My teacher replied, “We’re in the middle of a test, can this wait?”

“Sorry, it’s urgent.”

“Ren, could you come here please?”

I brought my test with me, and gave it to the teacher, who notified me that I’ll need to finish it during lunch. I nearly held my breath as I approached the door. The assistant told me to go with him. I trailed him silently down the halls, and took a seat in the office. “Your counsellor will call you back in a minute,” he reported. With my arm in my lap, I glimpsed around the walls at all the motivational posters with meaningless quotes, heart pounding in my chest. I can’t fucking believe I let this happen. As I looked around, I noticed a girl sitting in the chair in front of me, who was entranced by the pastel blue, stickered, and bedazzled DSI in her hands. Her hair was half black and half lavender, divided into two long braids, and a pink sweater draped elegantly over her freckled shoulders. In her lap perched a white purse shaped like a cat. “I like your purse,” I blurted, “I love cats.”

Her chestnut-brown eyes drifted up to meet mine. “Thank you,” her voice was silky and small. “They’re my favorite. I have three, how many do you have?”

“I actually can’t have cats right now, my mom is allergic,” I admitted.

“That’s awful,” she pouted, “you should see mine.” She took out her yellow phone and showed me her lockscreen, a calico cat. “This is Muffin! She’s so old! And so chunky.”

“She’s adorable,” I smiled, and noticed I’d been biting my nails.

“So are you here for the group?” she inquired. I gave her a puzzled look.

“Uh, which group?” I asked, confused. Like, a high school version of narcotics anonymous?

“Y’know, the counsellors made a girls group,” she replied, “for our mental health.”

Oh.

“That sounds cool,” I sighed. It’s already uncomfortable enough that I have to use the women’s restroom. “So you should join!” she squealed. I looked to the floor, and noticed her sparkly sneaker was untied. “Your shoe is untied.” She raised her leg to inspect the shoe, and frowned. “I don’t know how to tie them,” she whined. I raised an eyebrow, and almost held my tongue, but offered, “I could do it for you.” She smiled and extended her foot to me. I knelt, and tied the laces in a double knot, then double-knotted the other shoe. “Thank you! You’re so nice. So if you aren’t here for the group, then what are ya here for?”

Silent, I looked at her, reaching for a possible explanation that wouldn’t freak her out. Her face softened, and she gestured to my arm. She saw. She hates me now. “Is it because of the cuts?” I nodded, my face burning red in shame. “It’s okay,” she reached out and patted my knee. “It’s just an inconvenience, right? Just an uncomfortable conversation, and then it’s over.”

“They’re gonna call my mom,” I confessed, “I don’t wanna get into it with her. I just got my door back a couple weeks ago. I seriously don’t want to do this again.” She stared at me silently, then her eyes suddenly lit up. She bent down to rummage in her cherry-print backpack, then tossed into my lap a light yellow jacket. “Maybe they won’t make you roll up the sleeves,” she chirped hopefully. “Thank you,” I slipped on the soft jacket and cringed at how tight the sleeves felt around my arms, realizing I probably can’t even zip it up over my stomach. She beamed, and a door clicked open. “We’re ready for you,” a counsellor informed the girl. She cheerfully stood up, waved bye to me, and disappeared into the room. Her jacket smelled clean and sweet, the way fresh snow looks like it should taste.

#chapter1 #chapters

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