#and he taught me a few things about how to interrogate people

[strohller27]

.

#you meet the most interesting people in retail #A guy came in while his wife was shopping at another store and started to look around for a christmas present #then he started talking about geneology and then *somehow* we get onto the topic of a training he did #and he’s telling me stuff that maybe probably should be classified about this military exercise he was a part of #and then talks about how he was an interrogator for the Canadian army and he teaches now #and he taught me a few things about how to interrogate people #which. who knows. might come in handy in retail LOL #but then he gets all cagey like ‘oh I’ve taken up all your time!’ and runs off into the night #goodbye super interesting man I hope you have a good life

[writingphoenix]

Realization

Hero came to in a brightly lit room. Everything hurt and he didn’t know where he was. The last he remembered, he was fighting with his team and was injured. Seriously injured. With a sinking feeling, he realized that he was restrained to the bed he was in and there were tubes attached to him. He could hear a familiar voice talking, just out of range to understand what she was saying. Villain’s lair. 

“Villain, he’s awake,” a voice called. Hero’s stomach sank. He knew what was coming and braced himself for pain. Or at least more of it. He heard footsteps.

“Hey, you pulled through,” Villain said. Her voice carried more compassion than Hero had ever heard.

“Just get it over with and kill me,” Hero spat. He was shocked at how hoarse his voice was. Villain began looking over him, checking his bandages and the tubes.

“Now, why would I do that? I just went through the trouble of nursing you back to health.”

“Torture. Interrogation. Humiliation. Retribution. Plenty of reasons. Just get it over with.”

“I’m not going hurt you or kill you,” Villain said. Hero didn’t believe her. 

Days went by and he got stronger. He was still restrained to the bed but he was otherwise treated like a normal hospital patient. He was confused at the lack of torture. He decided Villain must be playing mind games with him. He hadn’t seen her since the first day. Medic said it was because she had a mission and lots of work to catch up on. Apparently she hadn’t left his side during the few days he was unconscious. He didn’t know what to think about that.

Medic decided he was healthy enough to leave the bed. He was moved to a secure cell. He was shocked to find a TV that played movies and warm clothes and a comfortable bed. He thought back to the cells at Headquarters. They were small, dark, and bare. They had a hard bed and a single blanket. Anything more was too good for a villain. Hero didn’t know what to think about that.

Villain came to visit him in the cell. She helped Medic with his physical therapy as he relearned to walk. Hero thought back to the last villain he had captured. The villain had been left in the cell to deal with his injuries. He had been interrogated and then disposed of. He was a villain, he was evil, he couldn’t be left alive. That’s what Hero had been taught. But he was given medical care and a comfortable room. He was given good food instead of old scraps and leftovers. He didn’t know what to think about that.

He had asked Villain why. Why was he being treated like this? Hero shrugged and had said,

“Because you’re a person too.” He hated being a prisoner but he hated the way being treated like this made him feel. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He should have been tortured and killed. Villain was evil, that’s why he fought her. But he was starting to doubt that.

His trainer had taught him to protect the important things. Protect the mayor of the city. Protect the wealthy families that were targets of the villains. Protect the city hall and the mansions and the businesses downtown. Those kept the city going. Hero began to wonder about everyone else. Villain told him about her adventures and she was always mentioning some family in the poor side of town or some kid going home from school. She talked about plots she was planning for the very people Hero had protected, to stop them from doing one bad thing or another. Hero began to hate that he had protected them.

And then Hero came to a realization. Villain wasn’t evil. She did good things, treated everyone with dignity. He began to realize with horror that what he had done, what he had protected, revolted him. He had ignored the poor of the city, he had protected the rich who held them down. He had tortured men and women who were only trying to help and who had died to protect the little people. 

He wasn’t a hero. He was the Villain.

---

#hero x villain #captive hero #writeblr #writing prompt

[heliads]

Hi girl ❤️ inhope it's ok to send in a request. i thought of something where the reader is working at the Avengers Compound and trains new agents, but one of them grows fond of her and like creeps up on her or follows her around all the time. Soon Bucky noticed that and decides to help. As the guy then again waits up on you and gets too close for Bucky's liking, he steps in between and kisses you passionately, making the creep leave and takes you by surprise but continue to kiss him and later he finally asks you on a proper date ? i hope this is ok with you.

hi girl! that is more than ok with me.

masterlist

Bucky Barnes only hears about the incident until it’s been going on for two weeks. 

Most of the time, Y/N’s more prompt about this, more willing to complain to him at a moment’s notice. That’s part of why they’re friends, after all, a fierce devotion to gossip that isn’t entirely welcomed in the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers. She’s candid today, but Bucky gets the feeling it’s only because she’s been holding back for a while and can keep her quiet no longer. It’s enough to make him listen even more than usual. 

They’re at a small coffee shop now, just outside the perimeter of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most intense surveillance. They meet up for small gatherings like this about once a week, more frequently if something comes up. Bucky claims he needs it so he can be ‘more attuned to normal, 21st-century activities’ or whatever, but it’s definitely just so he can have an excuse to do something of his own free will that doesn’t involve a gun in his hands. Y/N knows it, too, and uses the exact same excuse for why she’s there. 

They’ve only been sipping at their drinks for ten minutes before Y/N cracks and tells him what’s going on. She always jokes that she’s glad he never runs S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogations because she always ends up telling him everything the second they come face to face. Usually, Bucky humors himself and pictures it to be true, but after today, he’s not so sure of himself. If Y/N really is an open book around him, why is it that she could wait two whole weeks before telling him something like this?

The situation unfolds as Y/N explains herself, words tangling with the steam rising from their mostly untouched mugs of what, Bucky can’t remember. Something hot. He always orders in a rush, too eager to get back to that pleasant privacy of their favorite booth to linger too long on what drink he’ll be ignoring. They all taste mostly the same, anyway. His first few too eager sips always scorch the flavor from his true appreciation of what the baristas have concocted for him this time around. 

It has to do with her job, Y/N says. Most things do. Y/N’s a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, one of their best and brightest. Bucky met her when he was first being taught the ropes of life as an Avenger. Technically, their paths were supposed to diverge when he had finished learning which buttons he could press in a given Quinjet and how not to cause a diplomatic incident due to people still being worried about the Winter Soldier coming out (spoiler alert:  Bucky’s kind of one of them), but he’s too selfish to let her go quite so soon.

This is why he’s had the pleasure of learning more about the enigma that is Y/N L/N, how she takes her coffee, how she likes her knives. It’s also why Bucky assumed that their friendship meant he would have heard about something like this happening far earlier. The days in which they held their tongues over everyday grievances are long since over, if they ever happened at all.

At her core, though, Y/N is an agent, and that means she’s used to keeping secrets. This doesn’t come off as a secret, however, more like an indignation. A silent wound that she can’t address without feeling embarrassed or revolted about the whole affair.

There’s a man at the Avengers compound, one of the new agents. Like Bucky, he’s been there only a little while but wants to stay with Y/N for far longer than he should. Unlike Bucky, he’s being a creep about it. Bucky thinks he won Y/N over because he had a habit of minding his own business, something she valued in a building full of spies who’d turn each other in if it meant getting an extra promotion.

This newcomer, however, hasn’t quite learned that not everyone wants to instantly bond with him. He won’t leave Y/N alone and it’s wearing on her. The problem is that he hasn’t done anything outright to give her a reason to chastise him, it’s the little things. He keeps hanging around after practice ends, he stares at her during training sessions, he follows Y/N around the compound under the guise of wanting to ‘learn from the best,’ to quote him directly. Bucky wants to puke and he hasn’t even met the guy yet.

Y/N grimaces, head in her hands. “I don’t know what to do about it. His training cycle should end in a couple of weeks, but I doubt he’ll just up and vanish when that time comes. I’ve already had to make up a fair amount of excuses as to why I can’t give him my number. At some point I’m going to run out of fake smiles.”

Bucky discreetly scoots her half-full mug to the side, out of the way of dramatic hand movements so it’ll be safe from overturning in crucial moments. “He’s already asked for your number? Who is this guy?”

Y/N chuckles bitterly. “See, that’s what I was asking myself. I mean, I’ve been doing this sort of thing for years. There have been flirty trainees, but they’re always going to be there, and all of them so far have known when to back off. I don’t know what this guy’s problem is or why he can’t pick up on it, but it’s so frustrating.”

Bucky nods slowly. “What can I do to help? I don’t mind listening if that’s all you want, but I’d like to get rid of this guy if I can.”

“I’d like to get rid of him too,” Y/N says through a half smile, “but if I kill another trainee, Fury’ll have my ass.”

“Another?” Bucky asks, faintly worried.

“Any,” Y/N clarifies, although Bucky isn’t sure that makes him feel any better, “and I’d love to have your help, but I don’t know what to do. If me clearly not wanting to be around him doesn’t work, what would? The guy’s only smart in exams. His social skills could use some work when it comes to figuring out people aren’t interested in him. Tell you what, I’m just going to stick this one out. He’ll be gone in a few weeks anyway, I just need to hold down the fort long enough to see him leave.”

“You sure?” Bucky questions, “I don’t like the idea of this guy creeping you out all the time. I don’t mind stepping in, really.”

Y/N sighs, staring at her cooling beverage. “I need to be able to handle these sorts of problems by myself. If it looks like I have to reach out to the Avengers all the time, it’s not great for my leadership success. I appreciate it though, Bucky. Really, I do.”

Bucky lifts a shoulder. “Any time. If he does something, though, I have no problems with taking steps to enlighten him about why he should back off.”

“If he does something, I can finally step in myself,” Y/N counters, “Look, all the new agents are the same. One big scene, one display of force, and they know what’s what. All I need is an excuse and I can make sure this guy never tries a thing again. I just have to wait for the perfect opportunity.”

Bucky nods solemnly. “Until then, complain to me as much as you want. It’s the least I can do.”

Y/N’s eyes shine with ill-disguised mirth. “I just might take you up on that offer. You might regret your words once I rant to you for the thousandth time.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it,” Bucky promises, and it’s true. He just likes hearing her talk, that’s all. It reminds him that he’s not so alone, that there are people in this world who can look at him like Y/N’s looking at him now and see someone worth searching for. Who wouldn’t dream of something like that? Certainly not a jaded ex toy soldier such as himself.

Despite her joking promise to talk his ear off, Y/N drops the subject soon enough. He can see it still bothers her, though. Over the next few weeks, Bucky comes into their favorite coffee shop to see her looking absolutely exhausted. It’s as if she’s been drained of every bit of her motivation, her will to keep on fighting. The second she spots him, Y/N manages to conjure some sort of mask, a winning smile and easy joke, but Bucky knows what he sees, what she’s hiding.

Somewhere in there, Y/N is hurting. Bucky hasn’t spent that much time in his own mind, but still, he knows this:  whatever it takes to bring his Y/N back, he’ll do it. Bucky can freely admit that he lives for those precious hours in which it’s just the two of them, and if some asshole from her work is making her feel as if she can’t go anywhere without being haunted by bad memories, well, let’s just say it’s not going to end well for this newbie.

So, two weeks after that conversation, when Bucky is given a task that involves him being even remotely close to the S.H.I.E.L.D. training facilities, of course he’s going to use it as an excuse to check in on Y/N. Of course he is. How could he do anything else?

Bucky may not have any idea of this bothersome newcomer’s name or face, but the second he walks into the training center, he already knows which one of the black suited agents is his target. The agents in training are split into pairs on the fighting rings, with Y/N walking amongst them, shouting out pointers and making sure everyone is doing what they ought. And there, just two or three paces behind her, some young man with an idiotic expression on his face won’t leave her alone for a heartbeat. It’s stifling. No wonder Y/N hates him so much.

Y/N’s footsteps stall slightly when she sees Bucky at the door. He gives a little half wave and hates himself instantly for it. All the same, she smiles and starts walking his way.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, an easy grin on her face.

Bucky pretends to look affronted. “What, I have to have a reason? I can’t just come see you because I feel like it? That’s not very welcoming of you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, although she’s clearly happy to see him, which makes Bucky quite happy in turn. “I’m an agent, Bucky. I don’t have to be welcoming.”

He’s about to say something back to that when the annoying agent (who’s still following Y/N around like a lost puppy, by the way) clears his throat and announces in an obnoxious voice that he had a question about one of the martial arts moves they learned earlier.

Y/N’s smile drops in an instant. “Tell you what, I have to get back to class. Today’s session ends in about ten minutes, though.”

Bucky nods. “I’ll wait up.”

She looks relieved at that, and only upon securing this promise allows the newcomer to lead her over to one of the training mats so he can pose his no doubt useless question. Bucky watches them go and wonders why the sight of that agent being so close to Y/N makes his blood boil. He’s just being a good friend, of course, in trying to help Y/N rid herself of this leech, but Bucky could swear that he’s got another reason for wanting this young man to back off. Or any young man, for that matter. Anyone except Bucky himself. No reason for that in the slightest.

The training session ends soon enough, as promised, and Bucky watches as the other agents head out in one great wave of exhausted grins and idle chatter. One sticks around, though, and of course it has to be that cumbersome agent that won’t leave Y/N alone. He’s practically hanging off of her. Across the room, Y/N shoots Bucky a desperate, wordless plea, and that’s when he knows that enough is enough.

Something Y/N told him in that coffee shop is sticking in his mind now, the part about how she’d step in if something were to ever happen. There’s nothing S.H.I.E.L.D. agents respect like a show of force, she’d said. Well, Bucky is about to put on a show now.

He crosses the training facility in about half a second. He needs to do something that’ll make it clear that this guy needs to back off forever. Maybe Bucky can say something smart or do something threatening. He’s fairly adequate at both.

When he blinks, though, he’s kissing Y/N. It isn’t what he anticipated doing, but for some reason it is the best thing he could have ever done. It strikes Bucky suddenly that he doesn’t want to just kiss her to freak out this other agent, but for Bucky himself. He wants to kiss her whenever he wants, whenever he can. He wants his time with her to last forever.

He forces himself to break away, to take a step back, and belatedly realizes that the agent is making his excuses for leaving. The other agent all but runs out of the place.

Bucky nods a little too quickly and tries to get himself together. “Well, I think that worked. He probably won’t stalk you again anytime soon.”

“Yeah,” Y/N says, looking dazed, “probably not.”

Bucky swallows hard. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, it’s just, well, I didn’t know what to do, and it worked, obviously, but–”

Y/N cuts him off, smiling. “You don’t have to apologize for kissing me, Bucky. You never will.”

He looks back at her and realizes that she doesn’t look upset with him, not in the slightest. “Is that your way of telling me that I can kiss you again?”

“I think it is,” she confirms, and clearly Bucky can’t let her down, so he does as told. He doesn’t think that any scheme has ended better.

marvel tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @caswinchester2000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43

requested by @imagine-all-the-fandoms, i hope you enjoy!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier oneshot #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #marvel oneshot #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #mcu oneshot #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot

[xotomesimpx]

The Day His Eyes Changed Pt2: 1-A's Reaction to Shigaraki Being Your Brother

A/N: Check back to the first part of this a little before hand to get an idea of what is going on.

╚═══════════════════════════════════════╝

After your gutting confession everyone and everything stood still. The air in the room went cold until the rom broke into chater and banter. People asking questions while others just trying to console you as you cried still.

Izuku

He looked at you in disbelief for a few moment's. "There is no way one of the top villains in Japan right now is related to you.How is that even possible?" His thoughts were racing a mile a minute trying to find the right words to say.

"Should I comfort them? Or should I try asking them more questions, but everyone is already doing that? All this time they had connections to him of all people?" All the talking and panicking was getting loud too loud for concentrating.

He seemed a little more calm after bakugo and Iida settled everyone down.

He was also glad none of the teachers were around yet to check on them. "This is my chance to practice my interrogation skills! Wait but this is serious-"

After everyone settled down Iida, Izuku, Todoroki were selected to interogate you since they seemed like the best options.

Izuku just hopes you are still with the good guys. He understands there are times where good people have to know or deal with bad people.

The three sat down and told everyone to play it casual for a while. Just in case a teacher stopped by. They sat you down in the common area so that way. If something did go down everyone can be ready for the worst. You felt like everyone was looking at you like a criminal and you hated it. The first to speak was Iida "Alright I have gather notes and paper to record anything during this interrogation. So we can properly report this to authorities as needed." The four of you sat down and the first questions was asked. "Y/n how long have you known about shigaraki being your brother? And are you both biologically related?"

You nodded briefly until someone scurried over. "i knew this would come in handy." Denki said snagging your arm and putting sticky wires to your arm and head. "Denki don't interupt the s-" Denki cheered "Lie detector! i ordered this thing a month ago for truth or dare. Might as well test it out now." Iida bunched the bridge of his nose "As crazy as you are Denki this would be useful." Everone nearby hummed in agreement and the Lie Detector was turned on. And Iida repeated the questions. "This time to make our findings more clear with this device just answer yes, no, or taking your time speaking."

You sighed and relaxed "I knew Shigaraki as a kid... And no we are not blood related."

Iida

A part of him was terrified not of you per say but the thought of what you could have done. What if you were some traitor or something?

His nerves were getting to him but he kept his calm for the interrogation.

But then again a part of him saw that you were a genuine hero. Someone such as yourself can not be a villain related to such scum known as Shigaraki Tomura. And he was determined to to prove your innocence.

His brother taught him justice means and how things like this usually work out. And in your case he saw potential to unlock it. Make everyone in this dorm feel safe again, including you.

Iida felt the presence of his brother practically here. He is not superstitious but the the feeling was there. Justice and truth will. be. served!

The next question came up "Those were both truth's, next question. Are you in anyway connected to the league of Villains?"

You shook your head "Never...Once that young boy left me I never heard from him or his father. The day he left me his eyes changed...everything about him did."

The whole room of course was secretly listening in. It was sending chills through your spine.

Todoroki

Todoroki understood a little where you are coming from. People can change over night even the ones you know and love. For him it is not about questioning you. But rather making sure you are safe. And of course if everyone else here is safe.

Also bad family part of this situation. His family is not the greatest out there. So hearing this kind of puts him at ease knowing he is not the only one fighting or dealing with family struggles.

Honestly is just there to be a second set of ears. He is a good listener and good at memory. If he did have anything to say he would say "Yeah these father figures today don't know anything."

Same as Izuku, he knows that sometimes good people have to relate or deal with bad people. He wishes to tell you this in hopes to make things a little better. Hell his own brother is a villain too.

Momo came over hoping to soothe everyone nerve's "Tea?! Anyone want some tea?" He slightly jumped coming out of his trance and went blank. Before Momo went around passing cups of tea around.

Then a cup got to him and he looked down into the drink. "...What has this world become to?"

Iida looked over the last few questions. "Now that we have our main questions out of the way. We will build on these questions." You nodded as you listened. "As of right now everything you are saying is true, correct?" Iida asked and you gave another nod "Yes." Everyone would glance at the machine to see the results for every question. "And another truth... Izuku will now take over asking questions." Iida stood up and left the room to do who knows what?

Izuku looked down at the paper in front of him. "Earlier you brought up the day Shigaraki left you. You said "Everything about him changed?" Can you be more specific on that?"

You hummed "Me and other kids along with Tenko stuck together. Me and him in particular were like glue." There was a pause as you let the machine process. "But then a point hit were he stopped playing with us as he used to. Saying "My father needs me to train." Or "My father can not know we are playing together." I hated that man..." You let out a sigh as Izuku took down the information. The silence became even louder when the front door to the dorms opened.

"Mr Aizawa!" Ochako gave a raspy whisper just enough for your table to hear. Everyone got into position to try and hide or cover everything. But of course in the moment Izuku caved and accidentally sent a few papers flying. Scrambling to pick them up he sighed in relief thinking had all of them.

"You forgot this one..." Aizawa stood there as everyone went silent.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

A/n: A part of me wants to leave it here but I know some of y'all might want some more reactions other than the ones here. Which I will get to in a possible part three tomorrow. And I will just write it as a typical bullet point headcannons instead.

#mha x reader #mha x reader angst #mha angst #izuku midoryia #izuku x y/n #iida x y/n #tenya iida #mha todoroki #todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #anime fanfic #bnha fanfiction

[annoyinglandmagazine]

‘Rise and shine!’ Gil Galad was roused from his sleep by Elrond’s cheerful singing. He groaned into his pillow. ‘Why did I hire so many morning people?’ Elrond laughed yanking the pillow out from under him. ‘Well I could not divine to understand the thought processes of our most esteemed king, but I feel it is important to mention that it is not morning. There is a feast in your honour in less than twenty minutes.’

Gil Galad scrambled to his feet, ‘When did I fall asleep?’ Elrond busied himself picking out some robes from Gil Galad’s wardrobe, ‘a few hours ago. Erestor and I covered for you for a while but I think you can agree that you need to be at this yourself. Put these on.’ He threw the clothing onto the bed. Gil Galad began to comply while interrogating his herald on the situation. ‘Why was I asleep?’ Elrond had begun to brush his hair into a Nolofinwean braid style suitable while the king continued working on his clasps. Who had decided so many layers were needed for formal wear? Another thing the Finweans had to answer for.

‘Hmmm? Oh I drugged your tea,’ Elrond said casually. ‘You really shouldn’t admit to treason so easily. I’d have thought the Feanorians have taught you enough about avoiding suspicion.’ Elrond laughed and the sound would have been something a poet would wax about if it wasn’t so infuriating. ‘They also taught me how to know the strength of my position. And I know that no one in politics could afford to strike against me. This place wouldn’t function without me for a day. As evidenced by the fact that without my little acts of treason you would have killed yourself from overextension decades ago.’

He would have been put out by the arrogance if it wasn’t so true. ‘What about you? You hardly look ready yourself, even if your braids weren’t falling out they are in far too Feanorian a style to wear to something like this. Surely you’ll need time to work out the right ones to use?’ Elrond laughed and pulled the strand of thread he’d been holding his braids in out in one motion, sending the waves of ink black hair falling loose down to his hip. He then plucked a clasp out of his pocket and used it to pin a few twists together leaving it almost all down in curls. He gave a sarcastic look to Gil Galad before saying ‘There done. If I can’t take advantage of not being entirely elven to get out of having to observe societal conventions really what’s the point? It would be a scandal no matter what I do, too Sindar, too Teleri, too Nolofinwean, too Feanorian, indicating too high a position, not indicating high enough a position. Really I’d prefer just not to for once. So tonight if I’m asked any questions about what house I’m a member of I’m saying the House of Beor, understood?’

‘Got it, got it. It’s been too long since you last annoyed every member of the court simultaneously and so you’re compensating. Have fun,’ he laughed as he picked his final necklace and righted himself in the mirror. ‘Oh I plan to,’ Elrond flipped his hair over his shoulder and grinned back from his place at the door. ‘After you your majesty,’ he said with an exaggerated bow taking Gil Galad’s arm and his ringing laughter paired with the king’s open exasperation carried down the corridor all the way to the banquet hall.

#Silmarillion #tolkien #elrond and gil galad #gil galad #elrond peredhel

[whump-me]

Martyr, Chapter 11: Dangerous Respect

Chapter 11 of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: defiant whumpee, cold whumper, restraints, interrogation, verbal sparring, escape attempt, beating, broken fingers

---

Wraith

Isadora narrowed her eyes at Wraith. “If you know me as well as you think you do, then you know I’m not as stupid as all that. I’m not letting you free.”

“Who said anything about freedom? The door is locked. I’m sure every inch of this room is under constant surveillance. And there are at least a dozen guards between me and the exit. All I’m talking about is the chance to speak as equals. How many chances will either of us get to talk to someone who understands?”

“You can talk the way you are. I’ve done nothing to your mouth.”

He waggled his unbroken fingers again. “We both know I can’t do anything with my hands like this.” He let out a long, sorrowful sigh—another one straight out of Gabriel’s playbook. “Just like we both know this is going to end unpleasantly. Before that happens, I’d like the chance to have that civilized conversation you mentioned. Not an interrogation. Just a talk—one crusader to another. How long have we both been waiting for that?”

She didn’t say no as she regarded him for a long, tense moment. She was clearly trying to keep her face in its mask of icy indifference, but Wraith was used to reading Gabriel, so he knew how to read her. And she was tempted.

Of course she was. Gabriel would have been. If the shoe had been on the other foot, and they had captured Isadora and locked her up in their warren under the abandoned warehouse they controlled, he would have had to watch Gabriel like a hawk, lest Gabriel have a spasm of conscience and unchain her in the name of letting her have a little dignity. Putting them all at risk like that was exactly the sort of stupid thing he had been stopping Gabriel from doing for ten years, while Gabriel had been keeping him from rushing off in fits of temper.

The problem with Gabriel was that he thought everyone was as painfully principled as he was, even though his long friendship with Wraith should have taught him otherwise. It was both logical and absurd that Isadora shared the same flaw. Logical because in so many ways, she was Gabriel, even if comparing his most hated enemy with the man he cared about more than anything in this world made him sick. And absurd because if he were listing people in order of how principled they were, Gabriel would be at the top, while Isadora Pope would be far down at the very bottom. Whatever moral code she lived by, it didn’t preclude snapping a helpless prisoner’s fingers.

At last, she shoved herself to her feet in an uncharacteristically jerky motion. She strode to him, hands tightened into fists. He flinched back before he could stop himself. But she didn’t hit him. After a few seconds, he realized the only one she was angry at was herself. She had won an argument with herself—or maybe she had lost. Either way, she didn’t look happy about it.

“Don’t try anything,” she warned. He held his breath as her hands went to the cuff around his left wrist. As her fingers brushed his skin, too close to his hand, a full-body shudder ran through him. He couldn’t suppress it. He knew she had seen his reaction, the evidence of the mark yesterday’s torture had left on him. Just a few small bones, and already his body feared her on an elemental level. She had already made him weak.

But she didn’t show any response. He wasn’t sure she had even noticed. Her fingers were busy with the lock around the cuff. She produced a tiny key and twisted, and the cuff fell away. The relief that flooded his body was better than sleeping in after a week with no sleep. It was better than a sip of water after days of desperate thirst. He couldn’t hold back a soft groan of sheer pleasure.

He stared at the bruised, reddened skin. His wrist was swollen to nearly twice its normal size. As the wave of relief passed, a fresh burst of pain swept down his arm, as if the increased blood flow had woken up a few sleeping nerves.

He didn’t care. She could have set him on fire, and it wouldn’t have mattered, as long as he was free.

He couldn’t believe she was really doing it. It had been a desperate gambit on his part. It never should have worked. But there was the cuff, lying empty in two pieces under his wrist. And there was Isadora, fitting the key into the cuff around his right wrist.

Of course she was doing it. It was what Gabriel would have done.

As she worked on the right cuff, he didn’t move, not even to test the newfound freedom of his left arm. When it fell away, he held himself perfectly still as she moved on to the ones around his ankles. He didn’t dare do anything that might bring her to her senses.

The final cuff loosened. The nerves in his ankles screamed back to life. He took a deep breath. The cuffs had done nothing to constrict his chest, but all of a sudden, he felt like he could breathe easier. A tightness around his diaphragm that had been there since Special Security had ambushed him was suddenly gone.

Isadora stood and tucked the key away. “Last night, I wanted to destroy you. I was… angry. You see, when I talked about the dangers of letting anger master you, it’s because that’s a subject I know about firsthand. I was angry that I didn’t understand you as well as I thought I should. A lot can change in the course of one conversation.”

Wraith flexed his wrists. He drew in a sharp gasp of pain. His stiff muscles moved like rusty hinges. He wondered if the damage was permanent. Not that permanent meant much, with his probable life expectancy.

He moved his ankles in small circles and hissed through his teeth. Could he stand on them? Probably. If he had to. After how long he’d spent sitting here with the cuffs cutting off his circulation, it wouldn’t be pleasant. But he didn’t need it to be.

“You won’t leave this place alive,” said Isadora. “You understand why, I’m sure. You’ve already lost this game. But you’ve been a worthy opponent for all these years, and now I can finally see why.” She walked back toward her chair, but didn’t sit down yet. She rested one hand on the back of the chair, her solemn eyes locked with his. “So let’s get to know each other, you and I. Then we’ll see about the rest. Maybe we can even find an arrangement that’s mutually beneficial… or at least mutually tolerable. And then…” A flicker of Gabriel’s bottomless sorrow appeared in her eyes. “Then I’ll do what is necessary. But I won’t be cruel about it. I’ll give you the respect a worthy adversary deserves.”

She pulled her chair out. Before she could sit, Gabriel surged to his feet. His ankles screamed in unison, shooting bolts of pain all the way up to his knees. His legs nearly buckled under him. He didn’t let them. He let the momentum of his near-fall carry him forward, toward Isadora, whose eyes went wide as—too late—she understood what she had done.

He drove one elbow into her gut, the other into her throat. He didn’t need hands after all. Not for this, at least. She hit the wall with a sickening crack.

She doubled over, choking. He drove his elbow into her torso again. After that, all it took was a shove, and she slid down the wall and hit the floor. He gave her a kick to the kidneys, like the guard had given him, and followed it up by driving his heel into her windpipe.

She drew in a wheezing, rasping breath. She stared up at him, not with fear or anger or anything else that might have made sense, but with a kind of wounded betrayal, like he had let her down.

“You heard that I’m civilized.” He kicked her in the gut. “You heard that I’m honorable.” This time, his kick landed just under her ribcage. “You heard that I’m just like you, and you leapt on the chance to believe it.” He smirked down at her. “I can play the part when it suits me. But I’d rather not.”

Quicker than she should have been able to move, she jerked a hand up and clawed at his left hand. She grabbed his broken fingers and squeezed.

His vision went white. He might have screamed. He couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that by the time he could think again, Isadora was slamming him back down into his chair and tightening the cuffs around his wrists.

She stood before him, sucking in strained gasps through her bruised windpipe. The ice in her eyes was gone. They blazed with the heat he had seen in her yesterday, but this time, the heat didn’t fade. Her fingers clenched and unclenched. He braced himself for the pain.

But she turned around and stalked out the door without a word, her fists clenched around the last shreds of her self-control.

---

Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper

Ask to be added or remove from taglist. Please feel free to ask to be tagged! I like knowing people are reading.

#whump #whump writing #whump story #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Martyr #sci-fi whump #interrogation whump

[endcant]

its almost every day that i work out and think about one incident in high school. my marching band had finally organized a block for injured/disabled kids to stretch and do yoga-like warmups instead of high impact warmups like jogging, running, and sprinting. the kids in “injury block” told me i should join bc of my asthma, and it made my practices way better.

this was because it granted me the ability to choose WHEN my asthma attacks started during rehearsal. instead of starting every rehearsal with an asthma attack, i could save my daily mandatory asthma attack for the very end of the night, when we would march our show for several minutes at a time nonstop and then be forced (not asked or permitted) to run from our instruments and grab water and run back.

weekday band rehearsals usually started around 3 and could last until 10 pm, and on weekdays i also had dance class, where i would have already gotten in my day’s serving of cardio in the form of dancing or running. so it wasn’t like running with the band was the only source of high-impact cardio jostling my lungs each day.

if i had an asthma attack at 3:15 PM, i would be woozy and sleepy and mentally and emotionally fried during the entirety of rehearsal, including blocks where we would stand still and practice the music. if i had an asthma attack at 9:50 PM however, i could get almost 7 full hours of actual high quality practicing and rehearsal in without feeling like i had half the usual amount of braincells and jello in the place of muscles. it was a huge game-changer for me as a drummer. suddenly i wasn’t making stupid mistakes that i couldn’t explain! suddenly i was able to retain new marching coordinates and exercises! suddenly i was able to march under the weight of the heaviest drums for hours without wobbling!

of course, after a couple of months of me participating in “injury block” and getting a lot out of it, our band director noticed me there and told me i needed a doctor’s note. i told him i have asthma and i have an inhaler perscription i could show him. he told me that that would be fine this week, but every rehearsal afterwards i would need a new signed and dated doctor’s note. i knew instantly that this was ridiculous and financially prohibitive. i tried to explain the asthma attack math. he did not care. so i went back to running and having asthma attacks at the beginning of each rehearsal and throughout parts of rehearsal that i now knew didn’t have to be that hard for me.

i had friends in band who would ask me on the field to chill and take a break because my asthma attacks were scaring them, but i was quick to inform them that my asthma wasn’t considered an important or serious injury or illness by the band director. it really made me bitter and i constantly found myself having out of body experiences during band in junior and senior year.

i still work out to this day and think about how few asthma attacks i have now that i am allowed to control when and how frequently i focus on high-impact exercise. and also since i no longer have to do that running on a dusty track with 100 other kids dragging their feet in front of me. i also think about how that band director was, generally speaking, the most hands-off band director i’ve ever met. he didn’t know a damn thing about marching or playing and rarely was present or tried to give us advice. his job was basically just to hire people who had specific knowledge. but still, that day, he decided to walk out on the field and specifically target me for god knows what reason and interrogate me about why i was doing yoga instead of running in circles.

i wasn’t mad about it at the time, even. i was very trusting as a kid. i’m mad about it now, though. and whenever i attend a group workout class and and the instructor tries to tell me i can cure my asthma by “pushing through”, they can be sure they’ll never see me again.

i guess part of what maddens me about it is how nearly every adult who ever taught me anything in any of the physical activities i chose to participate in treated me like i was lazy because of my asthma. and i just believed them. so i just worked harder than i should have. at the cost of my ability to actually perform well in the activity they were supposed to be instructing me in.

the incident that made me start to realize that something was wrong was when i couldnt lunge quickly for a visual move with my drum on because the drum harness fit me wrong. the drum instructors blamed it on my lack of core strength, and i believed them, even though i could feel the drums swinging and hitting my forward leg. a huge bruise-then-bump developed that was eventually visible through shorts. this did not bother me and i showed it off to friends proudly, much to their concern. one day i went to do the move and the swing of my drums knocked me right over. i don’t remember how much it hurt, but i guess i was down for awhile because a parent who volunteered with the band ran up and took my drums off of me. this guy, some other kid’s parent, saw my leg and cursed at the drum instructors for awhile until they agreed to try to fix my harness. i felt embarrassed and was certain at the time that if i had just been more firm in my core then there wouldve been no one yelling at anyone on my behalf.

i now feel bad that i let myself be so trained out of questioning why i was in pain that my drum insteuctors had to take the fall for it. i mean, the pain of that leg injury was nothing compared to having asthma attacks every time i had to rehearse with the full band.

#draftsposting

[aromanticbuck]

Hurt/Comfort prompts: number 13 (“you’re safe, I promise.”) for scream au.

I love this idea so much btw I already feel unhinged about it ❤️

13. "You're safe, I promise."

He wasn't shaking anymore. That was probably a good sign. But it was hard to focus on the good when there was still blood on his hands, barely dried under his nails, where he could feel it everywhere it coated his skin. It made him want to itch until it was all gone, until he was finally clean again, but that seemed impossible. There was too much of it, too many things he couldn't forget about, things that appeared whenever he closed his eyes long enough to blink.

Greg would have scars, he knew that, but that seemed like nothing in comparison to everything else he'd seen. There had been too many bodies. Jay had gotten stabbed in the side. Hailey had gotten a bullet in the leg. They were the survivors, the ones who made it out, but how long would that actually last?

The sound of the door opening across the room was enough to make him flinch, and he flexed his fingers as if the gun was still there. Then the trembling started again, the shaking of his fingers, and he tried to grab the edge of the table to make it stop. He'd been at the hospital for a grand total of twenty minutes, refusing to let anyone bandage him up or even help him get the blood off his hands. The last thing he'd wanted was to have so many people touching him, even if they were just trying to help. He'd had more than enough of that for one night.

But denying care and not having the same life threatening wounds as his friends meant he had been taken to a different building instead, and put in a police interrogation room. There hadn't been the chance to give a statement at the house, not in all of the chaos of it and the ambulances rolling up, and he had been reassured countless times that he wasn't being questioned and he wasn't a suspect in anything. It was just a safe, quiet room, and he'd appreciated it when that was all it was.

As soon as he wasn't alone, it wasn't exactly quiet anymore.

"I'll try to make this as quick as I can, kiddo." The voice was practically familiar, and he didn't have to lift his head to know that he would see the face of the officer who had first breached the bathroom door. She seemed nice, but that night had already taught him that the uniform didn't necessarily mean safety. "I'm sure you want to get back to the hospital to check on your friends, hmm? You've already been through enough tonight, and the last thing we want to do is keep dragging this out."

Greg kept his head down and didn't even try to say a word. He didn't want to. Words hadn't helped him all night, and they weren't going to help him there. Words wouldn't bring back any of his dead friends, and they wouldn't help Jay and Hailey. They wouldn't erase the entire night like he wished he could. So, he didn't even try to find them, staring at the surface of the table.

"Can you tell me about what happened tonight, Gregory?"

He blinked but kept his eyes down, staying silent while time dragged on. It felt like an hour, but it was probably only a few minutes, potentially even less.

"Hey..."

The gentle tone made him blink again, finally looking up. His expression was kept carefully neutral, almost blank, or as close as he could make it. But a careful mask couldn't hide everything, apparently. Something must have alerted her to the emotions rolling in his gut, the terror that hadn't quite subsided, the worry he still felt, the fear that something could still happen even if everyone was acting like it was over. One uniformed officer had already robbed him of his sense of safety that night, and he was more than hesitant to trust another one.

"You don't have to give a statement right now. You've had a hard enough night, and you should take the time you need to process all of this. Whenever you're comfortable, just come in or give us a call, alright? We can get other statements from your friends, and we caught the people who did this on the scene - red handed just isn't a phrase we usually use so literally. They can't do anything else to you, Greg."

Catching his tongue between his teeth, he made himself nod. It was the best response he could give, his voice still stuck somewhere below his throat. They weren't caught there. They didn't even exist.

"I know you've had a very frightening night, but it's over now. You're safe, I promise."

[ hurt/comfort prompts ]

#answered #kiss the librarian #alex writes things #cpd #chicago pd #one chicago #mouse gerwitz #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz #trudy platt #the platt fam #scream au* #i'm glad i'm not the only one unhinged about this au #it's such a big universe and i love building it and playing with it

[reasonmustbemytruenorth]

[chp 5 pike/spock fic]

“You’re half human, but your physiology is mostly Vulcan. I guess I’m curious what it was like. How different it really was to be human for a few days, now that you’re back to yourself.”

“Confusing,” Spock replied honestly. “I have always been taught emotions run deeper in Vulcans than in humans. And that difference plays a large role in how we have always explained to our human allies our need for the strict controls offered by the path of pure logic, as well as why we do not expect humans to do the same. But that difference was so negligible as to be absent in my altered state. VSA medical experts opined that the late-onset regressive puberty that was triggered by the change was responsible for my heightened emotions during that time, rather than my humanity itself, but I am not convinced.”

“Wait, the VSA talked to you about this?”

“Yes, after reading Christine’s paper about changing me back using ancient medical arts, they had…questions.”

“That sounds invasive.” 

“Their curiosity was logical. There are no records of any Vulcan experiencing the human condition.”

Chris hummed in understanding. For all that Spock’s tone was exceedingly dry, Chris knew well enough that extra attention from Vulcan doctors wasn’t exactly high on Spock’s list of desirable things. He was sure Nurse Chapel hadn’t predicted her paper would precipitate them going around her back and interrogating the subject patient, whose identity wasn’t rocket science to figure out given the small number of Vulcans serving in Starfleet. Chris wasn’t even sure whether Spock told her the Vulcans had followed up with him about it. 

“So because your hormones were all out of whack, they discarded any challenge to the prevailing theory about the emotional gulf between our peoples.”

“Precisely.” Spock closed his eyes. “And of course my hormone spikes were not the only affliction impeding the baseline of my suppositions.”

Chris sighed. He knew what ‘affliction’ many Vulcans treated Spock as suffering from. “Your human half.”

“Indeed. In any event, it was convenient that my people were not given cause to reassess their superiority in light of my unique condition both before and during the anomalous event.”

“Convenient,” Chris repeated sadly. “And what do you think? Because I think you’re the product of a loving and intentional desire for a bridge between us. And I think you were uniquely situated to offer insightful physiologically-based philosophical commentary. To be blunt, they should care what you think about it. I know I do.”

Spock’s brown eyes held many emotions – an echo of Chris’s sadness, playful amusement at Chris’s steadfast declaration, and maybe a sliver of hope. “I think we have more commonalities than differences. However, the differences in our brain chemistries cannot be denied. Like Vulcans, humans have a war-torn past. But billions of humans, who wholly lack Vulcan physiological controls, are capable of living peacefully under the terms of the Federation. Some of the Vulcans that T’Pring works with have abdicated those controls. The results are never…peaceful. Vulcans who eschew Surak’s path are often irrepressibly violent.” Spock paused. “I have reached no particular conclusion. I do wonder if with more time to acclimate to my humanity, past the settling point, I might have reached a deeper understanding. Still, despite the limitations on my data acquisition, I do not regret Christine’s brave efforts to restore me to my usual if unique state of being.”

“I could give her another valor medal,” Chris offered. 

Read the full chapter on AO3.

#what if I took SNW Charades and made it sadder #snw spock #snw charades #pikespock #pike x spock #fic update #fic rated E #Vulcans #this snippet rated g for everyone

[auliasbookcorner]

Review: Why We Sleep: Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams by Matthew Walker, PhD

Book 3 of 2023

Start Reading Time: 3 February 2023

Finish reading Time: 30 March 2023

Page Count: 368 Pages

TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH, MEDICAL CONTENT, ANIMAL CRUELTY, CHRONIC ILLNESS, MENTAL ILLNESS

Hey, look! A nonfiction book! The first of the year!! Pretty big thing for me. Can you tell I struggled with this book by how long I spent reading it? It's been a while since I read a non-fiction book, but I hope I'll read more of it this year and it won't take as long.

I picked this book, of course, because I love sleep, but also because my Mom had trouble falling asleep and it negatively impacted her health. We even went to the doctor and she was prescribed some sleeping pills, which helped her sleep, but I don't know if it's good for her in the long run. So, I decided to read more about sleep, as I've never really got to know very much about it, and when you love something you'd make an effort to know more about it, right?

It just so happens that my uncle, my Mom's oldest brother, suffered a heart attack and a stroke earlier this month. When I went to visit him in the hospital he told me he could not get a wink of sleep since before the heart attack. I told him about this book I was reading at the time and gave him some tips to help him fall asleep from this book, and I think he really appreciated it. Now, I would recommend this book to all my loved ones or at least inform them of the importance of sleeping 7-8 hours every night.

I really do think that this needs to be taught in schools, as it is absolutely pivotal for everyone's health and all of our lives and the improvement of our society.

Some of the most fascinating things I learned from this book is about REM and NREM sleep, how and why we dream, how people have different circadian rhythms and that it is genetics, and basically just the amazing impacts on health that a sleep night could give us living beings. Even though I did find some of the parts of the book can be quite boring, it is still a really interesting and important book to read for everybody.

Also, some parts of the book can be quite grim and scary in the parts about the horrible things that come from lack of sleep. I felt personally attacked too, because I don't get 7+ hours of sleep regularly for no good reasons other than Netflix, Youtube, Twitter, and Tiktok exist. Also, sometimes it's because the books I'm reading were just so good that it makes me play this dangerous game of "just one more page" that could magically make 4+ hours of a few chapters feel like 5 minutes.

Overall, it's a great book that provides the readers with so much awesome knowledge about sleep, dreams, and just human health in general that could have greatly impacted the readers' health positively in the long run. Definitely an important read.

Here are my favorite quotes from the book:

"Hard problems care little about what motivates their interrogators; they meter out their lessons of difficulty all the same."

"The prefrontal cortex controls high-level thought and logical reasoning, and helps keep our emotions in check. When a night owl is forced to wake up too early, their prefrontal cortex remains in a disabled, “offline” state. Like a cold engine after an early-morning start, it takes a long time before it warms up to operating temperature, and before that will not function efficiently.

An adult’s owlness or larkness, also known as their chronotype, is strongly determined by genetics. If you are a night owl, it’s likely that one (or both) of your parents is a night owl. Sadly, society treats night owls rather unfairly on two counts. First is the label of being lazy, based on a night owl’s wont to wake up later in the day, due to the fact that they did not fall asleep until the early-morning hours. Others (usually morning larks) will chastise night owls on the erroneous assumption that such preferences are a choice, and if they were not so slovenly, they could easily wake up early. However, night owls are not owls by choice. They are bound to a delayed schedule by unavoidable DNA hardwiring. It is not their conscious fault, but rather their genetic fate.

Second is the engrained, un-level playing field of society’s work scheduling, which is strongly biased toward early start times that punish owls and favor larks.Although the situation is improving, standard employment schedules force owls into an unnatural sleep-wake rhythm. Consequently, job performance of owls as a whole is far less optimal in the mornings, and they are further prevented from expressing their true performance potential in the late afternoon and early evening as standard work hours end prior to its arrival. Most unfortunately, owls are more chronically sleep-deprived, having to wake up with the larks, but not being able to fall asleep until far later in the evening. Owls are thus often forced to burn the proverbial candle at both ends. Greater ill health caused by a lack of sleep therefore befalls owls, including higher rates of depression, anxiety, diabetes, cancer, heart attack, and stroke.

In this regard, a societal change is needed, offering accommodations not dissimilar to those we make for other physically determined differences (e.g., sight impaired). We require more supple work schedules that better adapt to all chronotypes, and not just one in its extreme."

"You can, however, artificially mute the sleep signal of adenosine by using a chemical that makes you feel more alert and awake: caffeine. Caffeine is not a food supplement. Rather, caffeine is the most widely used (and abused) psychoactive stimulant in the world. It is the second most traded commodity on the planet, after oil. The consumption of caffeine represents one of the longest and largest unsupervised drug studies ever conducted on the human race, perhaps rivaled only by alcohol, and it continues to this day."

"Levels of circulating caffeine peak approximately thirty minutes after oral administration. What is problematic, though, is the persistence of caffeine in your system. In pharmacology, we use the term “half-life” when discussing a drug’s efficacy. This simply refers to the length of time it takes for the body to remove 50 percent of a drug’s concentration. Caffeine has an average half-life of five to seven hours. Let’s say that you have a cup of coffee after your evening dinner, around 7:30 p.m. This means that by 1:30 a.m., 50 percent of that caffeine may still be active and circulating throughout your brain tissue. In other words, by 1:30 a.m., you’re only halfway to completing the job of cleansing your brain of the caffeine you drank after dinner.

There’s nothing benign about that 50 percent mark, either. Half a shot of caffeine is still plenty powerful, and much more decomposition work lies ahead throughout the night before caffeine disappears. Sleep will not come easily or be smooth throughout the night as your brain continues its battle against the opposing force of caffeine. Most people do not realize how long it takes to overcome a single dose of caffeine, and therefore fail to make the link between the bad night of sleep we wake from in the morning and the cup of coffee we had ten hours earlier with dinner."

"It is worth pointing out that caffeine is a stimulant drug. Caffeine is also the only addictive substance that we readily give to our children and teens"

"Similar to an unbalanced diet in which you only eat carbohydrates and are left malnourished by the absence of protein, short-changing the brain of either NREM or REM sleep—both of which serve critical, though different, brain and body functions—results in a myriad of physical and mental ill health, as we will see in later chapters. When it comes to sleep, there is no such thing as burning the candle at both ends—or even at one end—and getting away with it."

"Many of the explanations for why we sleep circle around a common, and perhaps erroneous, idea: sleep is the state we must enter in order to fix that which has been upset by wake."

"But what if we turned this argument on its head? What if sleep is so useful—so physiologically beneficial to every aspect of our being—that the real question is: Why did life ever bother to wake up? Considering how biologically damaging the state of wakefulness can often be, that is the true evolutionary puzzle here, not sleep. Adopt this perspective, and we can pose a very different theory: sleep was the first state of life on this planet, and it was from sleep that wakefulness emerged."

"Humans are not sleeping the way nature intended. The number of sleep bouts, the duration of sleep, and when sleep occurs have all been comprehensively distorted by modernity."

"Have you ever wondered about the meaning of the term “midnight”? It of course means the middle of the night, or, more technically, the middle point of the solar cycle. And so it is for the sleep cycle of hunter-gatherer cultures, and presumably all those that came before. Now consider our cultural sleep norms. Midnight is no longer “mid night.” For many of us, midnight is usually the time when we consider checking our email one last time—and we know what often happens in the protracted thereafter. Compounding the problem, we do not then sleep any longer into the morning hours to accommodate these later sleep-onset times. We cannot. Our circadian biology, and the insatiable early-morning demands of a post-industrial way of life, denies us the sleep we vitally need. At one time we went to bed in the hours after dusk and woke up with the chickens. Now many of us are still waking up with the chickens, but dusk is simply the time we are finishing up at the office, with much of the waking night to go. Moreover, few of us enjoy a full afternoon nap, further contributing to our state of sleep bankruptcy."

"Related, the REM-sleep gift of facilitating accurate recognition and comprehension allows us to make more intelligent decisions and actions as a consequence. More specifically, the coolheaded ability to regulate our emotions each day—a key to what we call emotional IQ—depends on getting sufficient REM sleep night after night. (If your mind immediately jumped to particular colleagues, friends, and public figures who lack these traits, you may well wonder about how much sleep, especially late-morning REM-rich sleep, they are getting.)

Second, and more critical, if you multiply these individual benefits within and across groups and tribes, all of which are experiencing an ever-increasing intensity and richness of REM sleep over millennia, we can start to see how this nightly REM-sleep recalibration of our emotional brains could have scaled rapidly and exponentially. From this REM-sleep-enhanced emotional IQ emerged a new and far more sophisticated form of hominid socioecology across vast collectives, one that helped enable the creation of large, emotionally astute, stable, highly bonded, and intensely social communities of humans."

"As this positive feedback loop took hold in exponential fashion, we formed, organized, maintained, and deliberatively shaped ever larger social groups. The rapidly increasing creative abilities could thus be spread more efficiently and rapidly, and even improved by that ever-increasing amount of hominid REM-sleep that enhances emotional and social sophistication. REM-sleep dreaming therefore represents a tenable new contributing factor, among others, that led to our astonishingly rapid evolutionary rise to power, for better and worse—a new (sleep-fueled), globally dominant social superclass."

"To be clear, not all medical problems of aging are attributable to poor sleep. But far more of our age-related physical and mental health ailments are related to sleep impairment than either we, or many doctors, truly realize or treat seriously."

"It was a saddening confirmation of my theory: the parts of our brain that ignite healthy deep sleep at night are the very same areas that degenerate, or atrophy, earliest and most severely as we age."

"I believe we should recognize and treat sleep impairments in the elderly with a similar regard and compassion, recognizing that they do, in fact, need just as much sleep as other adults."

"However, the capacity to forget can, in certain contexts, be as important as the need for remembering, both in day-to-day life (e.g., forgetting last week’s parking spot in preference for today’s) and clinically (e.g., in excising painful, disabling memories, or in extinguishing craving in addiction disorders). Moreover, forgetting is not just beneficial to delete stored information we no longer need. It also lowers the brain resources required for retrieving those memories we want to retain, similar to the ease of finding important documents on a neatly organized, clutter-free desk. In this way, sleep helps you retain everything you need and nothing that you don’t, improving the ease of memory recollection. Said another way, forgetting is the price we pay for remembering."

"Standing in front of the manager, staff, and players, I tell them about one of the most sophisticated, potent, and powerful—not to mention legal—performance enhancers that has real game-winning potential: sleep."

"A final benefit of sleep for memory is arguably the most remarkable of all: creativity. Sleep provides a nighttime theater in which your brain tests out and builds connections between vast stores of information. This task is accomplished using a bizarre algorithm that is biased toward seeking out the most distant, nonobvious associations, rather like a backward Google search. In ways your waking brain would never attempt, the sleeping brain fuses together disparate sets of knowledge that foster impressive problem-solving abilities. If you ponder the type of conscious experience such outlandish memory blending would produce, you may not be surprised to learn that it happens during the dreaming state—REM sleep. ... such informational alchemy conjured by REM-sleep dreaming has led to some of the greatest feats of transformative thinking in the history of the human race."

"No facet of the human body is spared the crippling, noxious harm of sleep loss. We are, as you will see, socially, organizationally, economically, physically, behaviorally, nutritionally, linguistically, cognitively, and emotionally dependent upon sleep."

"After thirty years of intensive research, we can now answer many of the questions posed earlier. The recycle rate of a human being is around sixteen hours. After sixteen hours of being awake, the brain begins to fail. Humans need more than seven hours of sleep each night to maintain cognitive performance. After ten days of just seven hours of sleep, the brain is as dysfunctional as it would be after going without sleep for twenty-four hours. Three full nights of recovery sleep (i.e., more nights than a weekend) are insufficient to restore performance back to normal levels after a week of short sleeping. Finally, the human mind cannot accurately sense how sleep-deprived it is when sleep-deprived."

"There are many things that I hope readers take away from this book. This is one of the most important: if you are drowsy while driving, please, please stop. It is lethal. To carry the burden of another’s death on your shoulders is a terrible thing. Don’t be misled by the many ineffective tactics people will tell you can battle back against drowsiness while driving."

"Insufficient sleep does not, therefore, push the brain into a negative mood state and hold it there. Rather, the under-slept brain swings excessively to both extremes of emotional valence, positive and negative.

You may think that the former counter-balances the latter, thereby neutralizing the problem. Sadly, emotions, and their guiding of optimal decision and actions, do not work this way. Extremity is often dangerous. Depression and extreme negative mood can, for example, infuse an individual with a sense of worthlessness, together with ideas of questioning life’s value. There is now clearer evidence of this concern. Studies of adolescents have identified a link between sleep disruption and suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts, and, tragically, suicide completion in the days after. One more reason for society and parents to value plentiful sleep in teens rather than chastise it, especially considering that suicide is the second-leading cause of death in young adults in developed nations after car accidents."

"If you were one of the individuals who were obtaining just five to six hours each night or less, you were 200 to 300 percent more likely to suffer calcification of your coronary arteries over the next five years, relative to those individuals sleeping seven to eight hours. The deficient sleep of those individuals was associated with a closing off of the critical passageways that should otherwise be wide open and feeding the heart with blood, starving it and significantly increasing the risk of a coronary heart attack."

"short sleep (of the type that many adults in first-world countries commonly and routinely report) will increase hunger and appetite, compromise impulse control within the brain, increase food consumption (especially of high-calorie foods), decrease feelings of food satisfaction after eating, and prevent effective weight loss when dieting."

"As the theory predicted, it was the dreaming state of REM sleep—and specific patterns of electrical activity that reflected the drop in stress-related brain chemistry during the dream state—that determined the success of overnight therapy from one individual to the next. It was not, therefore, time per se that healed all wounds, but instead it was time spent in dream sleep that was providing emotional convalescence. To sleep, perchance to heal.

Sleep, and specifically REM sleep, was clearly needed in order for us to heal emotional wounds."

"Using LED devices at night impacts our natural sleep rhythms, the quality of our sleep, and how alert we feel during the day. The societal and public health ramifications, discussed in the penultimate chapter, are not small. I, like many of you, have seen young children using electronic tablets at every opportunity throughout the day . . . and evening. The devices are a wonderful piece of technology. They enrich the lives and education of our youth. But such technology is also enriching their eyes and brains with powerful blue light that has a damaging effect on sleep—the sleep that young, developing brains so desperately need in order to flourish."

"The obvious methods involve reducing caffeine and alcohol intake, removing screen technology from the bedroom, and having a cool bedroom. In addition, patients must (1) establish a regular bedtime and wake-up time, even on weekends, (2) go to bed only when sleepy and avoid sleeping on the couch early/mid-evenings, (3) never lie awake in bed for a significant time period; rather, get out of bed and do something quiet and relaxing until the urge to sleep returns, (4) avoid daytime napping if you are having difficulty sleeping at night, (5) reduce anxiety-provoking thoughts and worries by learning to mentally decelerate before bed, and (6) remove visible clockfaces from view in the bedroom, preventing clock-watching anxiety at night."

"The loud-and-proud corporate mentality of sleeplessness as the model for success is evidentially wrong at every level of analysis we have explored. Sound sleep is clearly sound business. Nevertheless, many companies remain deliberately antisleep in their structured practices. Like flies set in amber, this attitude keeps their businesses in a similarly frozen state of stagnation, lacking in innovation and productivity, and breeding employee unhappiness, dissatisfaction, and ill health."

"It is clear that a tired, under-slept brain is little more than a leaky memory sieve, in no state to receive, absorb, or efficiently retain an education. To persist in this way is to handicap our children with partial amnesia. Forcing youthful brains to become early birds will guarantee that they do not catch the worm, if the worm in question is knowledge or good grades. We are, therefore, creating a generation of disadvantaged children, hamstrung by a privation of sleep. Later school start times are clearly, and literally, the smart choice.

One of the most troubling trends emerging in this area of sleep and brain development concerns low-income families—a trend that has direct relevance to education. Children from lower socioeconomic backgrounds are less likely to be taken to school in a car, in part because their parents often have jobs in the service industry demanding work start times at or before six a.m. Such children therefore rely on school buses for transit, and must wake up earlier than those taken to school by their parents. As a result, those already disadvantaged children become even more so because they routinely obtain less sleep than children from more affluent families. The upshot is a vicious cycle that perpetuates from one generation to the next—a closed-loop system that is very difficult to break out of. We desperately need active intervention methods to shatter this cycle, and soon."

"We can scale this solution globally: anywhere there is immunization and the opportunity to track an individual’s sleep, there is the chance for marked cost savings to health-care systems, governments, and businesses, all with the motivated goal of trying to help people live healthier lives."

"This silent sleep loss epidemic is the greatest public health challenge we face in the twenty-first century in developed nations. If we wish to avoid the suffocating noose of sleep neglect, the premature death it inflicts, and the sickening health it invites, a radical shift in our personal, cultural, professional, and societal appreciation of sleep must occur.

I believe it is time for us to reclaim our right to a full night of sleep, without embarrassment or the damaging stigma of laziness. In doing so, we can be reunited with that most powerful elixir of wellness and vitality, dispensed through every conceivable biological pathway. Then we may remember what it feels like to be truly awake during the day, infused with the very deepest plenitude of being."

I highly recommend this book for everybody. We all deserve to get a good 7+ hours of sleep every night, and it helps so much to know the great health benefits of sleep too. So, please read this book, and please get more sleep if you don't regularly get 7+ hours of sleep every night. This year, I wanna invest in a sleep tracker and try to get a regular 7+ hours of sleep every night too. LET’S GET THOSE ZZZZ’S, PEOPLE.

WRITING STYLE - ⭐⭐⭐⭐

ENTERTAINMENT LEVEL - 💔💔💔

BOOK COVER DESIGN - ⭐⭐⭐

OVERALL BOOK RATING - ⭐⭐⭐⭐

#why we sleep #book review

[arrowverse-next-gen]

Late Night Gang: June 2022 special 1/10

Autumn sat across from Anthony Merlyn in the SCPD interrogation room. She was working on building up tears to play the role appropriately, but when her loyalty to her family came into question she didn’t have to work anymore. There are only a handful of people who fully had her back and every single one of them are criminals. She couldn’t repay them in a way that equals everything that they had given her but she could take the fall for them. She was willing to take a bullet for them but jail was right up there with it as far as loyalty and love goes in the family so she was still doing her part regardless.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” Anthony leaned on the table across from her, not taking his eyes away from hers. “How did you get involved in this?”

“I did it myself.”

“No, you didn’t,” he corrected her, tapping on the table impatiently. “Give me a name. Just one. And I’ll let you go.”

“I did it myself,” she repeated, ignoring his intimidation tactics. She was trained for moments like this. The boys, and Vienna, had taught her well.

“Autumn, these guys have seen the other side of those walls before, they won’t hurt in there. You will. Give me a name.”

“Okay…” she nodded slowly, looking down at the table. Anthony brought out a notepad and pen from his back pocket, ready to write whatever it was she was going to say. “Autumn Valentine Carter.”

He groaned, putting the notepad and pen back into his pocket. “Autumn, I’m gonna give you one more chance. How did you get involved with them?”

She felt something building up inside her but she didn’t want to break down so she choked back whatever the feeling was and looked up at Anthony. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

She didn’t have to say anything else, Anthony knew her story. The only reason he was going so easy on her was because he was around the city when she was growing up, he went away for awhile but he came back right after her parents went missing. He knew her story. He knew that she was in debt, he knew that she didn’t have anyone in her corner which is why he tried his best to be there. But he also knew that the girl he would order a coffee from every day was a different one than the one sitting in front of him right now.

“Did you kill the guard?”

The answer, the truthful answer, was no. But she couldn’t say that even though they both knew she didn’t. Instead, she nodded.

“Did you break the safe lock?”

The answer to this one was actually yes, she was training and Miles wanted to make sure she knew where to place the crowbar when the lock broke but didn’t open everything up. “Yeah.”

“You know these aren’t light charges, Autumn. This could ruin your life.”

“I’m not giving you anything,” she looked down at the table then back up at him. “I did it myself. You can question me all night, I’m not fucking scared of going to jail.”

Anthony sighed before straightening his posture and walking over to the door to leave the interrogation room. Before leaving, he turned to look at her one more time. “Are they worth it?”

She thought about this for a minute. Her initial reaction wanted to say yes, but she really wanted to take the time to think about it. She was going to give up her freedom for a group of people she met only a few months ago. Were they worth it?

Rush making sure she felt comfortable being involved, telling her she could have benefits without actually having to contribute to the illegal things they were doing. 

Katz bringing her to the brink of trouble with different people in the city just to show her how she can talk her way out of anything, and get money out of.

Sonny stepping up out of the shadows on a bad night with a cup of tea and a shoulder to lean on, telling her that if she ever told anyone he did that he would just deny it ever happened.

Vienna backing her up when the boys are being especially difficult some days. Teaching her how to deal with them daily, run different operations for the family, make calls sound more important than they are just so the boys don’t talk to you for a few hours.

Miles…

With a good lawyer, she’d be out of jail in a few months. Anthony won’t go hard on her, it’s her first offense – that the police know of – and she has a good pity story. The boys won’t let her go down for more than 5 months and anything less than a year doesn’t get her sent off to prison.

She finally nodded. 

“They’re worth everything.”

#late night gang #autumn carter #anthony merlyn #fics #arrow #arrowverse #arrow next gen #arrowverse next gen #arrow fics

[escape-rock-bottom]

Journal #16 - The Man Who Changed My Views

We tend to separate ourselves into groups based on our views, beliefs, interests, and goals. Effectively, human life is like the cliques in those (honestly far from accurate) teen movies - those we are most alike to we group together with and turn away from outsiders. I think it's a lingering pack mentality we adopted long ago as a means of survival that is no longer relevant in modern times.

This leads to a majority of us never truly expanding our horizons to explore the vast variety of personalities and perspectives of others outside the scope of our "social comfort zones". Believe me, I was (And still somewhat am) much the same. 

I wouldn't be as inclined to approach someone I perceive as different from myself or types of people I am familiar with. If someone looks like a big, passionate football fan but I am not a huge fan myself and there's no reason for me to approach them, I guarantee I will do just that: Not approach them.

Bear with me here as I provide a little backstory and context to the meeting with the man I am writing about. I was just beginning to break out of my comfort zone, starting my welding certification course at college, and generally making progress towards various other goals of mine. 

I was heading towards the train to return home after finishing with my doctor’s appointment. I didn't pay any mind to the guy crossing the street and beginning to head towards me. I figured he just needed to get somewhere (why make it about me?) so I ignored him and kept walking.

Apparently, this was that 1% chance a stranger has intentionally gone out of their way to speak to me. When he stopped me, asking if I had a moment to talk, I was expecting him to be one of those campus organizers who were trying to recruit people to their clubs. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and said I had a moment, and was surprised to find absolutely no sales pitch - just a genuine introduction and a few questions about me. Not a clipboard or notepad in sight. 

Unusual? Yes. Unexpected? Of course. Here was a guy who went out of his way (according to him much much later in our conversations) to speak to a complete stranger for the sake of doing so. No strings attached. It felt pretty surreal, honestly.

We spoke for a while, asking each other questions but I soon had to part ways as my train was arriving. We exchanged numbers, and we decided on a more convenient time to hang out. 

We hung out a few times after that initial meeting and just talked. Most of it was life stuff, our interests, and philosophical things, but one topic came up consistently: Religion. This is the one topic we didn't agree on, but unlike the anticipated aggressive fighting to defend one's beliefs that come with this topic, CL was genuinely interested in hearing my perspective, and I his. We were pretty invested in understanding each other's different ideas and beliefs and whittling down to a middle ground between our completely opposite beliefs (yeah, there apparently is one of those. Crazyyyyyy)

I've never once felt put on the spot or otherwise interrogated when asked about my religious and political beliefs with him. I gave him an honest explanation, and wasn't questioned on the validity of my claims. In turn, I did the same. It’s not exactly in my nature to question beliefs unless they are being forced upon me or harming people, but it was nice to see someone else do the same with me.

I must say, he's left a lasting impression on me. Sadly, his stay in Denver was temporary. He's long since moved back to his home state across the country. Our talks brought me to a conclusion that basically answered the question of how I felt about my standing with religion and whether god (or multiple gods) exist. It’s a personal belief thing, but it was interesting to see my own beliefs shift in such an unexpected way.

This brings me to the important lessons he taught me in the four sole interactions we've had:

-People with different beliefs can get along and talk, given they both leave room to listen to one another without feeling their own beliefs are being threatened

-People often have meaningful, good reasons to believe in things other than your beliefs

-Friends can come from the strangest places

-There is often a lesson to be learned from those who differ from us

-If we do not give those who are outside our "social comfort zone" a chance, we may miss out on an amazing relationship 

-There is always some sort of middle ground, even if there seems to be no possible way one can feasibly exist 

-There are a vast varieties of ways to bond with people, even if they seem extremely different from you

-Listening is a powerful tool. Accusation and doubting another's views gets us nowhere, but calmly talking through why we disagree does. Beliefs are not a finality, they can change if you will them to.

CL was a wonderful individual I was permanently affected by. In fact, when I look at every relationship I've ever had, each person has either changed me, inspired me, taught me, or left a positive and long lasting impression on me. While it sucks that what I was hoping to be a long lasting friendship was short lived, I'm still happy to have the experience, and he’s taught me to look at things in a much different way.

DISCLAIMER: I haven’t asked him for permission to post his name publicly - it just felt weeeeeird to go “hey bro wassup mind if I write a post about you for my blog?” - so I’m using his initials to protect his identity.

#drvn30 #storytelling #beliefs #change #lessons learned #unexpected

[crowhyun]

THE DAUGHTER WHOS SOUL YOU SOLD

trickster demon!Kai x reader

Genre(s): smut, fluff, angst, a teeny bit of crack

Warnings: mentions of hell, marriage, fire, consummation, lingerie, both Kai and reader and virgins, they’re kinda awkward but cute, dry humping, penetrative sex, creampie, Kai is rough

Words: 8.5k

You tried to stifle your laughter, covering your mouth with your sweater paws as you watched Kai stalk his way up to your professor. He stood directly in front of him, knowing that he was only able to be seen by you, waving his hands in his face.

     You didn't want to be called out by your professor, but it was getting harder and harder to hold on your laugh, especially since the classroom was rather silent. You watched as Kai pushed one of the professor's pens off of the table, the pen rolling a few feet away from him. He stopped talking and went to pick up the pen. With his back turned, Kai threw some other stuff off his his desk.

     Your professor furrowed his brows, looking at the fallen papers with obvious anger written on his face. You bit your lip, shutting your eyes tight to try not to laugh.

     "Alright, give it up." Your professor said. "I don't know how you're playing this trick here, but someone speak up. Who is it?"

     The students looked around at each other, confused.

     "They just fell off the desk, that's all." A boy sitting a few rows in front of you said.

     "I literally teach physics, there is no way objects just fly feet away at a stand still." He replied, shaking his head. All while he was interrogating the class, Kai was right behind him, his hand going up to the professor's hair. You wondered what he was doing until you saw the professor's hair like gradually go back. You widened your eyes as you noticed he was wearing a wig, and Kai was revealing a bald head to the class.

     You subtly shook your head at him, telling him to quit it before the professor would become embarrassed.

     "Never in my 20 years of teaching have I taught a rowdy and unhinged class like you lot." The professor said. "All I want to do is teach the wonders of physics, and you guys have played silly little pranks on me since the semester started."

      You watched as Kai slowly but surely continued to drag his wig down, and you heard quiet snickers from the class.

      "Uh, prof, your hair...?" Someone pointed out, interrupting your professor from his rant. At that moment, the wig completely fell off, plopping down to the floor. Your professor was quick to cover his head, and you were sure this was his breaking point.

     "That's it, everybody, get out!" You yelled. "Class is over for today, no one e-mail me for the rest of the week."

     Everyone hesitantly got out of their seats, mumbling and chuckling about what had happened.

     "...not even our fault..." One said.

     "At least we're out of class early." Another one said.

     You gathered your things as you made your way out of the door, feeling a bit sorry for your professor.

     Once you were out in the courtyard, Kai appeared right next to you, walking alongside you.

     "That was funny, wasn't it?" He asked with a proud smile.

     "A little bit, but you embarrassed the poor man." You said, looking up at your blonde friend.

     "He'll be fine." He shrugged. "At least you got out of class early. We can eat ramen and watch the drama we started yesterday, right?"

     "Uh, you mean I can eat ramen." You said, watching as a group of friends looked at you weirdly. You were used to this, though. The way people would look at you as you talked to yourself. It's just what you became known for. You didn't need friends anyway when you had Kai.

     "You know what I mean, silly girl." Kai chuckled.

     "Even if I wanted to, though, I can't." You said. "I have homework to do."

     "You've been doing homework almost everyday of your life, let's take a break." He said, stretching his arms out as you approached your car.

     "Hm. I'll think about it." You said, getting in the drivers seat. Kai was already in the passenger seat, ready to always go wherever you go and always be where you wanted him to be. Someone who wasn't imaginary couldn't do that.

"Okay, then I hope you think too hard so you'll get burnt out." He said with a sweet voice.

"This guy is weird..." You mumbled to yourself, starting your car and making your way to your house.

———————————

"(Y/N), we're going out for the night, watch the house for us." Your mom said, slipping on her jacket.

"Where are you going?" You asked, a frown pulling at your face.

"Your dad rented a table at that restaurant I told you about." She said. "Y'know, the five star one?" You could tell she was excited as she checked her makeup in the mirror by the door.

"Ah..." You nodded. "Well, have fun." You said.

"You won't be completely alone, right?" She asked. "You have...Kai." Even through all of the years of you having an imaginary friend, she still seemed awkward to bring it up. Your dad still refuses to believe that your friend is just imaginary, and he insists that you go to a doctor, to your dismay. Your mom, on the other hand, was at least trying to come to terms with the fact that Kai was with you at all times.

"Yeah, you have Kai." Kai said to you, giving you a wink. You rolled your eyes turning your attention back to your mom.

"Ah, he's coming." She said, heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. "We'll be back in a few hours. Bye, sweetie."

Your dad gave you a wave goodbye as he followed her out of the door. You watched them get in the car and drive away, leaving the driveway with only one car. You turned your head in confusion once you heard Kai sigh.

"You wish that was you, huh?" He asked. "Going out on a date with your boyfriend. Oh wait, you don't have one. That sucks."

You sucked your teeth, walking around him on your way to your room. "Go away."

He appeared at the top of the stairs before you even got there. "I don't want to. And besides, you'd be scared to be home alone. How cute."

You ignored him, making your way to your room and plopping yourself down on your bed. "You know what? I think I am going to give myself a break from homework."

"Yes!" Kai cheered. "Get the ramen, let's watch My Name."

"I actually want to have a self care night." You said. "I've been feeling ugly lately."

"You're not even ugly though." He said, squinting his eyes to look at your face. "Okay, maybe just a little bit."

Your jaw dropped and you reached for a pillow to throw at him, but he quickly dodged it with a laugh.

"Die!" You said, getting up and going to the bathroom. You shut and locked the door behind you as a means to keep him out. Yet when you saw him in the reflection of the mirror, you remembered that locked doors didn't stop him. You groaned at him and he held his hands up in surrender.

"What, are you going to actually use the bathroom or something?" He asked. "I've seen you pee before, anyways!"

"Kai, don't say that, that's embarrassing!" You yelled at him.

"I've seen other things, too." He said, and you raised the brow. "My little mouse clicker." He giggled, furiously rubbing your tummy.

"Huh? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" You asked in genuine confusion.

"Nothing." He said. "Go on with your self care. You go, girl!"

———————————————

Your parents had come back home hours ago, and it was almost the AM times, yet you still weren't asleep. You had stuffed yourself with multiple bowls of ramen and gave into watching the drama with Kai. Now you were alone and in your dark room, trying to sleep.

Since it was hard for you, you figured Kai could help out.

"Kai?" You called out quietly to the air.

"Yes?" He appeared right beside you on the bed, facing you so that you were face to face.

"If you're imaginary...how come I can touch you?" You asked him. He didn't answer for a few seconds.

"I don't know." He said. "You ask that question all the time."

"Yeah, but just in case you get an answer one day, you should tell me." You said. Kai chuckled, his hand coming over to rest on your cheek. "See...you can touch me, but your hands are so cold."

"And your cheeks are so warm." He said. You flicked his hand off of you, feeling slightly embarrassed that he had caught that. "What?" He chuckled.

"Nothing." You said, thinking of ways to change the topic. "I can't sleep."

"Mm." He hummed. "Would you like for me to sing you a song?"

"Yeah..." You said. And with that, he started to sing softly. It was a lullaby that you have never heard anywhere else. It was something that seemed to be his own creation, and he had sung it to you since you were a kid. He had an amazing voice, one that made you feel warm every time you sang. You were on the verge of falling asleep when the song stopped, but you wanted to ask a question. "Are you a ghost?"

"Go to sleep, (Y/N)."

"Okay."

———————————————

      You opened your eyes, finding yourself in a completely different place than when you fell asleep.

      The place you were in was dark, yet you stood in front of a red carpeted isle lined with lit torches. On each side of the isle, there were...things. Things that scared you. They all stared at you, skin red and scaly, hooves for feet, and horns adorning their heads.

      We're these...demons?

      Then you felt the sensation of your body moving on its own. That's when you noticed the black and red dress you had on, the style being victorian. You had a bouquet of dead roses in your hands, and a black veil covering your face. Your feet moved forward and your eyes were wide, trying to decipher what was going on. You looked forward to see a man in all black at the end of the aisle. Was this a wedding? It had to be some weird type of wedding. How did you come to a wedding? And were you the bride?

      You wanted to stop moving and at least try to make sense of what was going on, but you had no control of your body. The only thing that seemed to be misplaced was your brain.

      Soon enough, you met up with the man at the end of the isle. Once you got a good look at his face, you noticed that you knew him. He was Kai.

      You looked at the person beside you, seeing that they were completely covered in all black, and you were unable to see their face. They then started to speak in a language that you've never heard of before. It didn't sound similar to any other language.

      You looked back at Kai, noticing that he shared some of the same features as the audience. Horns on his head, deep black eyes, a sinister aura.

      This had to be a dream. You were in some wicked wedding with your imaginary friend, surrounded by demonic beings. This was definitely a dream.

      You suddenly opened your mouth, and you spoke in this unknown language. After a short sentence, your mouth shut once more. A few seconds later, Kai said that same sentence.

      The whole time, you were just thinking...what the hell? Kai reached to raise your veil, folding it over your head to reveal your face. You noticed how he was getting closer and closer to you, and you suddenly felt as if your body was unlocked, and you dropped to the ground before he could get closer.

      You gulped, and you were sure you looked like you were almost frightened to death. This was a weird dream, how could you not be? You got up from the ground, and just like you wanted to do, you ran off to wherever you could go.

      "(Y/N)! (Y/N)!" You heard Kai call after you, but you continued to run as fast as you can with the heels that adorned your feet.

      "Wake up, (Y/N)." You said to yourself as you ran. "Wake up, (Y/N)! Wake up!"

——————————

      You woke up with a flinch, being greeted by the bright sunlight. You squinted your eyes, looking around to see that you were in your room. Kai was nowhere to be found, which was weird, seeing that he was usually the first thing you saw every morning.

      "What a weird dream..." You muttered to yourself, getting up to start the day. You were feeling a bit more groggy than usual, your feet dragging across the floor.

      When you were going to brush your teeth, your toothbrush somehow slipped out of your hand, dropping onto the floor.

      "Ah- ew, oh my gosh." You groaned, picking it up and running it under the water. You didn't mean to be dramatic or anything, but you were sure the day was getting off to a bad start.

      After brushing your teeth, you quickly got ready for your class, slipping on your glasses and grabbing your bag. On the way downstairs, you tripped a bit, but you said yourself with your grip on the railing. The one thing that couldn't be saved was your glasses, as they fell off your head and you accidentally stepped on them, cracking the lense.

      "Dammit..." You muttered to yourself, checking out the damage. You sighed, knowing that you'd have to get them repaired if you wanted to use them. You guessed that squinting at the board during class wouldn't be too bad.

      And...

      You were late to class.

      You stumbled into your class room, probably looking like you had just run a mile. You couldn't possibly miss the lecture for today, it was important. On your way to class, there was something wrong with your radio, and it kept switching stations randomly. When you weren't paying attention and trying to change it back, you had missed a green light.

      And you ended up sitting at a red light for twenty minutes straight, causing you to be late for class. You didn't know what was up with your luck, lately, but today was horrible so far. You thought that maybe it was because Kai hadn't shown up, yet. Kai was with you everyday, and the day that he doesn't show up, everything goes wrong.

      You struggled to take notes during class, your mind drifting over to Kai and your dream from last night. Kai was rarely in your dreams, but the one times he shows, it's you getting married to him. You felt a slight pinch of regret, wishing that you had let him kiss you in your dream. But at the same time, it felt so weird. He was imaginary. It's insanely weird to have a crush on your imaginary friend. Your parents already think you need help as it is.

      You just wished that Kai was real. He'd be perfect for you. The perfect boy. It's sad how that's only possible in your imagination.

————————————

       After a long day of classes, you found yourself back home and in your room. Surprisingly, you were alone. You called out to Kai a few times, wondering why he hasn't immediately shown up like he usually did.

      "Maybe...maybe I am too stressed." You spoke to yourself. He was apart of your imagination, right? So, it would make sense that you couldn't bring him up when you were too stressed.

      You heard a knock on your door and your mom peeked in.

      "Hun, your dad isn't going to be back for a while." She said. "He's getting good business for the week, so he'll be super busy. If this works out for him, we'll have a celebration this weekend." She did a pumping motion with her hand while she smiled big. "Ah, also, could you go grocery shopping for me, tomorrow? I don't have time to do it, but I have a list."

      "Sure." You answered, knowing that you were rather busy tomorrow, but you didn't want to make her angry.

      "Great, thanks." She said. "I'll leave the list on your dresser." She placed a sheet of paper on your dresser, then she left the room.

      You sighed, remembering how badly you wanted to move out. Grocery shopping for the family every now and again wasn't bad, but sometimes, your parents treated you as if you were a sort of maid. They went out and had fun without you a lot, they found slick ways to talk down on Kai and how you were too old to have an imaginary friend, and much more. They say they're not ones for drama, but it seems to just be something they enjoy.

      The only way you could even cope with it was by talking to Kai. He's been their your whole life, and even though he was quite bothersome sometimes, he was your bestest friend in the world.

      "Kai?" You called out, waiting a few seconds even though you were sure than he wasn't going to show up. You were a little down about it, but you decided some relaxation was going to fix that. So, for the rest of the night, you watched "My Name", hoping that Kai would show up right in the middle of it.

      But he didn't.

——————————

      A week later, you found yourself walking into your home to the smell of dinner. It was a rare occurance, but you assumed that your dad's business for the week had gone well. You made your way to the kitchen where your parents were playing music and chatting happily while cooking.

      "Oh, hey, (Y/N)." You mom said once she saw you. "It's about time you came home."

      "Today, we're celebrating 20 years of excellence!" Your dad said, holding up a glass of wine. "And yet another successful week at Kim Tech."

      "Cheers to that!" Your mom added on.

      "That's great." You smiled. "What are you guys cooking?"

      "We're cooking some steak, as our main course, with some mashed potatoes, corn, and a strawberry cake for dessert." Your mom said. "And your dad is inviting some of his coworkers in a bit."

      "Ah..." You nodded, leaning on the counter as you watched them cook. You felt a little sour. They celebrated a good week for them, yet you only had stress from one of the worst weeks you've ever had in a while. Accident after accident kept happening, and it was like your luck just wasn't caring about you. You had broken down multiple times this week, and yet you had no choice but to celebrate. Of course you were grateful, though, the whole reason you were able to go to college is because of the money that Kim Tech brought in. It was a blessing. It would've just been more of a blessing if Kai was there.

      While your parents were distracted by telling stories of when the company started, you noticed that the grease in the pan was smoking a bit. You weren't sure, but you thought it may have been too hot. You were about to tell them, but you noticed the glass of wine right next to the stove and how it was slowly but surely moving. You squinted your eyes to make sure you weren't seeing things, but you weren't crazy. The glass was moving closer and closer to the hot grease and before you could react, it tilted over the pan, breaking as the wine fell into the grease. The pan suddenly bursted into flames, pieces of glass dropping onto the floor.

      Your parents yelled out in surprise, trying to back up from the flames, but your dad was a bit too late, his sleeve catching on fire. In a panic, he accidentally stepped on a sharp piece of glass, and he yelped in pain.

     "O-Oh my gosh, (Y/N) call the fire department!" You mom yelled at you as she tried to help your dad. Your mouth was agape and panic set into your veins as you tried to get it together. You ran to your bag, fetching out your phone as you quickly dialed the fire department, the reflection of your dad engulfed in flames in your frightened eyes.

————————————

      "...first degree burns on most parts of the exposed body, yet there are some second and third degree burns..."

      "...needs to go in for immediate medical care..."

      "Will he be alright?"

      "He'll be fine..."

      "He's just in a lot of pain right now..."

      The red lights blinked on and off, shining on your house, the black soot even showing outside of the windows. What was just a grease fire turned into something worse, half of your downstairs home burnt into ashes. You looked at the house, tears filling your eyes. You wouldn't say you were necessarily sad, but you got the feeling that it was your fault. Maybe you've been passing around your bad luck, or maybe it's just been following you wherever you went. This time, your house and your poor father were the victims of it.

After making sure your father was alright, he was driven to the hospital to be taken care of. You guys had to live in one of the vacation homes not far from where you lived until the renovation was complete. Much to your dismay, this house was further away from your school, and you knew it would be costly to go back and forth. You could just not go to class for a bit, given the circumstances, but you knew that it would hurt your grade, and you were not willing to let that happen.

————————————

Pulling up to the vacation home, which was nestled right by the beach, you felt that living here for the time being was wrong. It was a vacation home for goodness sakes, a home where you could go to relax and have fun. Nothing was going to be fun here while your dad was in the hospital. You couldn't even bring all of your essentials due to you not being allowed to go back into your house.

Your mother insisted that you go get settled into the vacation home while she decided to stay overnight at the hospital with your father. You didn't even have a chance to visit.

You sighed, getting out of your car and unlocking the front door to the house. It was dark, as it was still night time, so you turned the light on, looking around.

Your family hadn't used the vacation home in years, everything being left in the same place as it was the last time you came here. It wasn't a huge home, as there were two small rooms attached to one big room which had the kitchen, the living area, and the dining area. There was a balcony that was in view of the large beach behind the house which reflected the moonlight beautifully. You forgot how beautiful it was here. You just wished that you weren't alone.

You made your way to the room that you always occupied. There was a queen sized bed and a dresser, as well as two large windows that faces the beach. You guessed that maybe you did need to be here, so you could finally relax. But right now, your body only craved one thing. And that was to cry.

Now that you were all alone, you really had no other choice but to finally let it all out. You sat on the bedC your back to the head board as you sobbed, your head falling forward on your bent knees. You couldn't believe this week could get any worse, and it felt so relieving to be able to just cry. You weren't sure if crying would help, but in this moment, it just made you feel good.

With your eyes shut tight and tears streaming down your face, you didn't notice the presence of a certain someone until you felt a gentle touch on your back.

You slowly lifted your head, making eye contact with Kai as he tried to comfort you.

"Kai..." You mumbled. "Where have you been?"

"U-uh, imaginary friend world." He smiled.

"Not funny."

"Sorry..." He looked down. "Are...you okay?"

"No." You shook your head. "This whole week has been a disaster. It just had to end with my dad being in the hospital."

      He didn't say anything for a few seconds, then he spoke. "I-I'm sorry..."

      "What do you have to be sorry for?" You sniffled. "It's just my bad luck. I guess it passed it onto my parents."

      "No, that's not it." He said quietly.

      "Then what is it?" You looked at him. "Why is it that the minute you're gone, everything goes awry? I must've just been too stressed and then...I don't know."

      "Don't blame yourself for this, (Y/N)..."

      "Then who else is there to blame?" You asked, getting frustrated. "For almost everything bad, there's at least one person to blame. Who's else fault is it? My mom's? My dad's? My dad had one of the best weeks of his career, while I had the worst. And all of a sudden, when I'm in the picture, the house catches on fire."

      "(Y/N)." He said, and you heard a weird undertone in his voice. Almost like he was...ashamed? "Please don't get too angry at me, but...the bad things that happened this week...that was my fault."

      "Huh? What do you mean?" You asked. "You weren't even here..."

      "It's going to be hard to explain, and I don't know if you'd be able to handle it, but yes." He said. "Everything that's happened was my fault."

      "...including the fire?"

      "Y-yes...including the fire." He looked at you with wary eyes. You gently but surely pushed his hand off of you, your face going stone cold.

      "Explain."

      "It's not easy to explain, y-you're going to see me differently-"

      "Aren't you a figment of my imagination?" You furrowed your brows and frowned. "What other way could I see you?"

      "That's the thing, I'm not a figment of your imagination." He said. "I never was, and I never will be."

      "...what?"

      "It's possible for me to be seen by only you, but it's also possible for me to be seen by anyone else and not seen at all." He said.

      "Then...what are you?" You asked.

      He gulped before answering, a shifty look in his eyes. "I'm a d-demon."

      "You're lying." You said. "T-that can't be true. It must be a trick."

      "Well, that's kind of my specialty. I'm a trickster demon. It's the truth." He looked down. You looked at him, trying to see if he could be lying. Weirdly enough, he seemed genuine.

      "So, is that why you tricked me into believing you were just a figment of my imagination?" You asked, a hint of venom in your voice.

      "(Y/N), it's not like that." He said. "Stop making it seem as if I'm your enemy."

      "Friends don't make other friends days worse, Kai. Friends don't light other friends' houses on fire, Kai." You said. "Those are things that enemies do."

      "I admit, I was wrong for doing those things." He said. "I never meant for it to go that far. I was just...I was angry."

      "Angry at who? Me? What could I have possibly done?"

      "You don't understand, (Y/N)."

      "Then help me understand." You said. "If not, then...then you can just go back to hell."

      He looked at you in silence, a frown pulling at his face that made you feel a bit guilty for speaking without thinking. Yet, you didn't take it back, as you were still angry at him.

      "We're engaged to be wed." He said, and you snapped your head up, almost mishearing him. "We have been since you were born. You see how big your dad's company is? He...he sold your soul in order to get that big. In order to seal the deal, you must be turned into a halfling before you die."

"A halfling?"

"Half demon, half human." He said. "Lucifer's servant. The only way to do that is to be wed to a demon...in hell."

"So...that dream..."

He nodded his head. "That's the only way I could marry you without you coming out to be too corrupted."

You couldn't say anything, remembering how you ran away from him in what you thought was a lucid dream. You could also feel the fuming rage that you had for your father. He sold his own newborn baby's soul to the devil for some stupid company. For money. Maybe he deserved to burn. It was only a hint of what was going to happen to him when he would eventually get to hell.

"(Y/N)?" He rested his hand on your knee, but you brushed it away.

"What if I don't marry you? Then what will happen?" You asked him.

"Lucifer...he'll devour the souls of the rest of your family." Kai said. "And doom all of you to burn in hell for eternity...including me."

You felt a deep sense of doom inside of you. The anger you had for Kai wasn't strong enough to cover how important he was to you, and for him so suffer just because of your father, you couldn't have that happen.

"What did you mean earlier? When you said something about me coming out too corrupted?" You asked.

"When you go to hell as a human, it...it changes you. I'm not sure how to explain this well, but you won't come out the same." He said. "Yet, of you to go hell in your dreams, you will remain unchanged. A wedding in hell is worse. In order to go back home, you have to be ungulfed into flames...something more painful than you've ever experienced in your life."

"Why would I go back home?" You asked.

"You don't have to." He said. "It's a choice. Just like marrying me is. But, not coming back up here just means that you die at an early age. There's a possibility to just get married and then come back with your life unchanged, apart from the fact that you'd be a halfling."

"What would I be if I don't come back home?" You asked.

"Then you'd just be a demon. Like me." He said, then he frowned. "Do you...do you not want to be here?"

"No..." You said. Kai didn't answer, but there was no explanation needed. He's been with you your whole life and he's seen sides of you that you haven't shown anyone else. You weren't even as close with your parents as you were with Kai. So, he knew your troubles and he knew your stressors. He knew that you'd be much better off not being in this world, as horrible as it sounded. "I'll get married to you. And I'm sorry from running away from you in that dream. I just didn't know what was going on."

"That's my fault." He said, hesitantly placing his hand on your knee, afraid that you'll push him off, yet you didn't. "I should've told you earlier. And I shouldn't have made your week bad...I'm a terrible person."

"No. You're just a demon." You said with a quiet chuckle.

"Ah...it appears that I am." He said with a laugh.

"Will the wedding happen tonight?" You asked.

"It'll happen whenever you're ready." He said. "But I must warn you...when you come with me, you'll die up here. And once you die, you can't come back. Yet if you go in your dreams, you won't die."

"I'll go with you." You said quickly. He nodded.

"Oh, and, please don't freak out, but..." He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

"What now?" You asked, starting to get worried again.

"Well, it's...in order to uh, complete the marriage..." He gulped. "It's required to have a consummation...after the wedding."

"...a what?!"

—————————————————

It took a few days for you to be mentally ready for the wedding. You maybe have not been the fondest of your parents, but you had to find a way to say goodbye, or to at least leave your mark.

Meeting your mom after you went out to relax by the beach, you were surprised by your reaction.

"Hey, (Y/N), oh-" She looked over to beside you. "Who's this?"

You furrowed your brows and looked to the side, seeing the one and only Kai. You knew he was there the whole time, but you don't think he's ever showed himself to your parents.

"Oh, uh...this is Kai. My...friend." You said to her.

"Friends don't get married." He mumbled under his breath, but you judged him with your elbow.

"Kai...?" She raised a brow. You then noticed that you told her the name of your imaginary friend, who was essentially the same person, but she didn't know that.

"Yeah, Kai short for Kaipo." Kai lied, saving your ass. "It's an Hawaiian name."

"You're from Hawaii?" Your mom said, taking off her glasses in awe, and Kai nodded. "Ah, how wonderful."

"Uhm, we have homework to do." You said to her. "So, we're just going to go to my room."

"Oh, alright then." Your mom said. "Study hard."

"We will." You said. "...bye."

"Bye?" Your mom raised an eyebrow and chuckled at your awkward and misplaced goodbye. You then tugged Kai with you to your room, shutting the door behind you.

"That was awkward." Kai chuckled.

"What was I supposed to say?" You asked. "It's all I could do..."

"Did you meet up with your dad?" He asked and you nodded.

"I left him a note." You said, not wanting to elaborate.

"Oh, alright..." He said. "So does that mean...you want to get married tonight?"

     "Y-yeah." You said, a nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach. You knew what you had to do in order to get there, and so did Kai. He reached in his back pocket for the orange bottle of pills, hesitatingly giving them to you.

     "I'll meet you there then." He said.

     "Can't you stay with me?" You asks him.

     "No. I can't...I can't watch you die." He shook his head. "That's too much."

     "Ah..." You nodded. "Then I'll see you there...I'll be okay, right?"

     "You'll be fine." He smiled. "When you wake up, you'll be just fine."

—————————————

      Opening your eyes, you were greeted with a familiar setting. You were in the same place as you were when you were in your dream. You were at the beginning of the wedding isle in your black and red dress, the dead bouquet of roses in your hand.

      This time, though, you were happy to be here. You were still anxious and unsure, but you now understood the importance of the wedding, and you were willing to partake in it. You wouldn't have done it if it wasn't Kai. Now, it wasn't weird to have a romantic liking towards him. That was a relief.

      The demons on both sides of the isle watched you, their eyes big and black, with no soul or emotion behind them. At the end of the isle was your soon to be husband, which turned out to be a demon this whole time. Was that good or bad? You wouldn't know.

     You began your walk down the isle, this time, you weren't forced to do it against your will. You didn't want to run, and you didn't want to cower away. You wanted to pull through, and that's exactly what you were going to do.

     Just like in your dream, you faced Kai at the end, and the demon beside the both of you spoke in the language that you still couldn't understand. It didn't matter, though, as you knew by the end of all this, you'd understand everything.

     Kai lifted your veil over your head, revealing your face to him. This was it. This was the part where he would kiss you. He looked at you as if he was asking if you were alright. You weren't sure how you picked that up in his pitch black eyes, but you shave him a small smile to which he returned before leaning in. You shut your eyes right before you felt his soft lips against yours, and then, quicker than you wanted, he parted from the kiss.

     All the fleeting thoughts of kissing Kai finally came true, and it was much better than you expected. It was short and sweet, yet he left you wanting more.

     Yet both you and him knew that soon, there would be more. That sole thought left you zoning in and out throughout the wedding, just imagining what the hell was going to go down.

——————————————

     You were in a room alone, stripped out of your dress and left in a revealing yet classy lingerie set. The room only consisted of a king sized bed and a vanity, where you sat to check your appearance.

     You felt a little weird about it, yes. You've known Kai your whole life, you shouldn't feel self conscious, but at the same time...you've never done anything remotely close to what you were about to do. Kai was just imaginary, but now, you were about to give yourself to him.

     You watched the door, feeling nervous. He was going to enter at any time now, and being alone in such a different place scared you.

     You then heard the door creak open, and Kai slowly revealed himself to you. The two of you met eyes and you gulped, suddenly feeling exposed. You could tell that Kai was at least somewhat enamored by the way you looked, and he didn't do the best job of hiding it.

     "H-hey." He said.

     "Hi." You replied.

     "You look really...really nice." He said, walking closer to you. Sitting down, you noticed how he towered over you, and you stood up to not feel too small, but his gaze still did so. You nearly curled in on yourself, becoming even more exposed.

     "Thank you." You said, looking up at him.

     "Hey, let's not make this awkward." He chuckled. "Let's not think about it too much."

     "How can I not?" You asked, looking down.

     "Oh...does that mean...you've been thinking about it this whole time?" He asked with courage. You were too shy to answer, but he already knew just by the bashful look on your face. "Because I have, too."

     You gulped, looking into his black eyes, seeing no reflection in them.

     "Are you scared of me?" He asked.

     You shook your head.

     "You don't have to lie." He chuckled. "It's okay to be scared. You've never seen me like this. But I'll take care of you. I'll be gentle...if that's what you want." He looked down at your lingerie clad body, his pants becoming tighter. He was needy for you, but he didn't want to make it obvious. But the way you stood in front of him like he's never seen before...it was doing things to him. "C-Can I touch you?" He asked.

     "Y-yes." You nodded, watching as his large hands hesitantly settled on your exposed waist, stiff as ever.

     "You can touch me other places, too." You said, and he almost choked, his eyes going round. "I-I didn't mean anything too explicit...not yet, at least." You chuckled, relaxing a bit more to see that he was just as nervous as you.

     "So...I can touch down...here?" He slowly slid his hands down past your hips, and he gently cupped your ass. You felt your arousal start to grow as you nodded. "Can I kiss you too?"

     "You can do anything you want to me." You said.

     "Don't say that...I might lose it." He nervously laughed.

     "Well...isn't that what we're here for?" You stepped closer to him, close enough that your bodies were pressed together.

     "Y-yeah..." He stuttered, lowering down to slot his lips in between yours. You stood on your tip-toes to reach the kiss, your hands on his shoulders to support you. The kiss started out slowly, something that you could get used to so far. Just like he said before, he was gentle, his hands caressing your skin.

     After a bit, he slotted his tongue into your mouth, and you were surprised to feel that he had a forked tongue. You were fascinated, to say the least, twirling your tongue around his. Yet, just when it started to get heated, you felt the burn of your claves. You were on your toes for too long, and you went down on your flat feet, breaking the kiss. Kai chuckled at you, knowing what had happened.

     "Should we move to the bed?" He asked and you nodded. With his hands on your waist, he guided you backwards from the vanity to the bed, leaning you back so that you were laid down. From this point of view, he could see everything, now, and so could you. His bulge was large against his pants, and that's when you noticed that he was far too clothed for your liking.

     "Can you t-take your clothes off?" You asked him. He looked down at himself, almost as if he was surprised he even still had clothes on. He reached to take off his all black suit, which was a sight that you enjoyed seeing. Soon enough, he was bare before you, all except for his boxers.

     You knew this before, but without his clothes, Kai seemed even more broad than he already was, especially when he hovered over you. If someone was to look from a birds eye view, you'd be completely covered by him. You felt so small, and it heightened your arousal even more.

     Kai attached his lips to yours once more, his tongue immediately meeting yours. At the same time as kissing you, he spread your legs wide enough so that he could fit in between them, and you felt his bulge come right into contact with your clothed pussy. You moaned into the kiss and Kai parted from you, making you feel a bit embarrassed.

     "That was really pretty." Kai said. After hearing it once, he wanted to hear it again, prompting him to experimentally push his hips forward, grinding against your clit. You gasped at the pleasurable feeling, your pussy clenching around nothing. "Does that feel good?"

     You nodded, too scared that your voice would sound too fucked out already. Kai felt his chest swell up with pride as he took a gentle grab of your hips, grinding into you once more. If just grinding into you made you feel this way, he simply couldn't imagine what you'd be like when you'd be stuffed with his cock.

     He leaned over you, keeping a steady pace as he grinded into you. He wanted to savor your lingerie a bit more, but the urge to see your completely naked took over. And he released that urge in a bit of an aggressive way.

     You gasped once he ripped your lacy bra off of you, and he looked at the tattered fabric in his hand as if he was surprised as well.

     "S-sorry..." He trailed off as he caught sight of your breasts, free and exposed just for him. He forgot about your bra, tossing it to the side as he slid his hands up to your breasts to cup them. "You're so pretty." He mumbled, watching as he folding your breasts.

     You were still a bit distracted by the rolling of his hips into yours, but once your felt his mouth suckle around your nipple, you were snapped back into focus. The added sensation made everything more pleasurable, and he closed his eyes, his tongue swirling around your hard bud. You tangled your hands into his blonde hair, your mouth falling agape as your orgasm suddenly hit you by surprise. Your moans got louder against your will, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

     Kai locked his lips, watching as you calmed down from your high wanting more.

     "Fuck, you are so gorgeous." He said, scooting you back on the bed so he could fully hover over you.

     "Kai, I want you." You breathed out, already fucked out. "I want you inside me.”

     "You sure it won't be too much for you?" He asked, an innocent look on his face, yet you knew him too well, knowing he was teasing you. "You came so easily just now, baby." With the added pet name, he tried to make his words soft, but there was the hard undertone underneath that, making you gush in your useless underwear.

     "Please, Kai." You whined, dragging your hand down to his boxers. He chuckled, pulling down his boxers and releasing a long, girthy cock. You knew he had to have something lengthy down there, seeing how big he was, but it was still a surprise to you.

     He went to remove your panties, your wetness sticking to it as he pulled it down. His mouth was watering, seeing just how wet you were. He made a mental note that he was going to eat you out next time. As if in a trance, you noticed him staring at your pussy with hungry eyes, and you felt shy once again.

     "K-Kai, please." You whined.

     "Sorry," He breathed out, hovering over you once more, his tip aligning with your entrance. "Are you ready?"

     You nodded. With that, he started to slowly push his cock into you, and you felt delicious yet painful stretch. It wasn't too painful to where you needed to stop, so you felt him keep going until he had his whole cock stuffed inside of you. He sighed in pleasure at your walls wrapped around him.

      He started to thrust inside of you, slowly but deeply. He bit his lip in concentration while you held onto his shoulders, savoring the feel of his cock inside of you. He picked up the pace, going steady, but not too fast to where you were overwhelmed.

      "Fuck, Kai, your cock feels so good." You moaned out.

      "Yeah?"

      You nodded. "Please go faster."

      "How fast?" He asked. "I don't want to hurt you."

      "You won't hurt me." You said, moaning as he continued to go at a steady pace, and you bit your lip. "I like it fast. You can do that for me, right?"

      You smiled at Kai's surprised face, his thrusts slowing down. He quickly recollected himself, positioning himself to where he'd be able to pleasure you properly.

      "Yeah, I can do that". He said. He started to thrust faster into you, his thrusts gradually becoming faster and harder.

      As your moans got louder, he went harder, you spurring him on, and it got to the point where he was pounding you into the mattress.

     You cursed, holding onto him as you noticed that every thrust pushed you up the bed. He grabbed onto your hips tightly with his large hands, holding you down as he pistoned into you.

     This was exactly what you wanted. For him to lose control. Your wetness was evident, the noise combining with the slaps of skin on skin as well and your moans. He muttered profanities into your ear, using more of his strength to fuck into you to where it was almost painful, but the pleasure always out ruled the pain.

     You were borderline screaming at this point, not knowing that Kai was capable of making you feel this way.

     "Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He whined into your ear, his thrusts becoming sloppy. You felt his cock throbbing, even with how fast he was pounding inside of you.

      "Cum inside me, please, I want it." You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist. He nodded against your neck groaning as you felt his cock uncontrollably twitch inside of you.

     Then, you felt ropes of his cum pour into you, paired with his high pitched whine. He thrusted into you, milking himself until his cum was spilling out of you in a mess.

     After he finished cumming inside of you, he pulled out, watching his cum drip out of you. He licked his lips, not forgetting about you. You yelped in surprised once he dipped down, taking your swollen clit in between his slip.

     You moaned loudly, your hands going to tug of his hair as he fiercely sucked your clit, quickly bringing you to your second orgasm. You heaved out moans as you shut your eyes, grinding against Kai's face to ride out your high.

     After you had calmed down, you felt a bit embarrassed at how desperate you were, but Kai didn't seem to care as he kissed you again, a mix of yours and his cum on your mouth. It was filthy, yes, but after what had just happened, that was nothing.

     After the heated act that just took place, Kai rested his head on yours, a lazy smile on his face that you matched.

     "So...it's done now?" You asked him. "You're my husband?"

     "Yeah...and you're my wife." He chuckled. "Now, all you have to do is meet with Lucifer. Then, we'll...we'll be able to be together here."

     "Lucifer..." You muttered under your breath.

     "Are you scared?" He asked. "Don't be. I'll be beside you the whole time, okay?"

     "Okay..." You smiled, and he kissed you again.

     "I can't believe we just did the devil's tango." He giggled, going back to the Kai you've always known.

     "It seems like you want to do it again, huh?" You smirked, feeling his hardness against your thigh. He looked down, laughing as he didn't notice before.

     "It appears so."

——————————————

     Your dad woke up from his slumber, his arms wrapped in bandages from the burns. He had once more day until he was able to be discharged, and he was excited to be reunified with you and your mom.

     Looking at the table beside his hospital bed, he noticed a folded piece of paper that wasn't there before. He furrowed his brows in confusion, grabbing the piece of paper and un-folding it, revealing a letter.

     Dear Father,

I hope you're having a great time with your company booming and all. You know you have to, especially when you know you're doomed to burn in hell. When you get discharged, I'll be dead, but you knew it was going to happen one day, right?

That's all I have to say to you. I hope you love with the guilt that your daughter's dead because of you.

    Love, The Daughter Who's Soul you Sold

[joealwyndaily]

Joe Alwyn interview with Arena HOMME+

Lenny Abrahamson: In Conversations with Friends your character, Nick, is an actor. And there's a scene where Frances asks him about his work and Nick says that the thing he likes about acting, as opposed to real life, is 'knowing what to say, what comes next.' Is there anything in this that chimes with your own relationship with what you do?

Joe Alwyn: I find that very hard to answer, so thanks for starting there Lenny!... But I guess one: it means I don't have to be myself, and two, it means I do get to be myself! That sounds really unclear, I know, but what I mean is I like playing other people because you get to step out of your own shoes, and there's a part of me that has always liked that removal. But at the same time, in pretending to be someone else, in totally unrelated and ridiculous circumstances, there's an odd kind of catharsis. You can funnel yourself through other people and express things that you might otherwise put a lid on and bury as 'you'. And so there can be this great feeling of release. Jesus, I don't know if that makes any sense?? But with my character Nick... Well, I don't think it's as crippling for me, Joe, as it is for Nick, with regards to knowing what to say, or what comes next. I certainly like the structure of the job in general, once you have it. A few months of knowing where you're going to be and what you're going to work on, that's a nice luxury before the panic of not knowing what's next kicks in.

LA: After a day's filming, can you let it go or do you rethink and critique what you've done? How do you get along with yourself when you're working?

JA: I'm British, so I think it's in my nature to second-guess and rethink what I've done. I'd love to have a bit more of that American self-belief, but it just seems to built into our bones to question everything we do. I do it more at the start of a shoot when I'm still finding my feet and wondering why on earth I've been trusted to do the job. It gets easier as it goes on, but I suppose I'm harder on myself more often than kind, which is something I'm trying to work on and change. I feel like working on this show taught me a huge amount. And to be clear, I had so, so much fun making this. It was a dream job and in many ways I could not have been happier. I feel ridiculously lucky. So, thank you, Lenny...

LA: Do you remember how you felt when you first read Conversations with Friends? What excited you about it? Now that you've seen what we made together, do you think we've captured the things you admired about the book?

JA: I loved it when I read it. I loved how human they all were, Sally's characters. And I loved how it was funny and moving and extraordinary and had these huge shifts but actually always in quite a subtle way. It just felt very real. I've not seen all of our episodes yet but I do think we held onto those qualities. At least I hope we have. And really that starts with you, Lenny! The way that you approached the material, you seem to interrogate every line and moment in such detail, looking at all the possibilities of what each beat could be. Your knack for building a world that just feels really, really genuine — complex and intricate and alive and subtle — is amazing. It's there in a lot of your work — obviously most recently in Normal People. An attention to detail (without ever being overbearing) that creates these very real worlds and people, and watching how you track each of us within that… it's incredible to see. I also think that to accept the complexity of what Sally is talking about you have to see both positives and negatives in all the characters. It's not as simple as having good and bad. There's a joy in accepting the complexity of it all, and so you can't really ever know exactly who you're fully ‘rooting’ for. There can't be an outright villain or anything. I think that feels well done here.  it's messy and complicated in the right way.

LA: Forgive me for this, but what's it like being so handsome? I promise this is a straight up and very serious question!

JA: If it helps, I'm incredibly stupid.

LA: One of the great pleasures for me in making this show was watching how you and the other actors formed such strong bonds and how much fun you had. How would you describe the dynamic between you all?

JA: We got lucky there! When you spend five months with a group of people you cross your fingers that you'll get along. And we all really did. We were shooting in a time of partial lockdown, so we had no choice but to hang out with each other on the weekends. Luckily, everyone just clicked. And I think that really fed into the work on screen too. we all weirdly morphed into our characters a bit but maybe that's inevitable. It was great though — it was a job, but it was also a really special life experience with a special group. We'd be filming on the beach in Croatia during the week, only to all go back to the same spot at the weekend. It was just so much fun.

LA: Most of your big scenes are with the wonderful Alison Oliver who plays Frances. How was it working with her?

JA: It's incredible that this is her first role out of drama school. She's wonderful in the show. I don't think that there could have been a better Frances. She brings so much to the role and worked so hard, and you could see that each day on set. Beyond her being so talented, she was just the most joyful, genuinely excited person to have around; completely positive and willing to jump in and try anything. It was inspiring to see that positivity and enthusiasm each day.

LA: What was it like playing a middle-class South Dubliner? How did you work on the accent and get a sense of that very specific world?

JA: I remember you when I chatting right after being cast and wondering whether we wanted to do this British or Irish. the South Dublin voice we landed on isn't too far from home, really. In some ways I find that trickier, when there isn't a huge departure from how you normally sound. It really is quite light and almost anglicized. We also decided that this was someone who had spent a number of years in London, and was married to a Brit… so his accent was at a place where it come a lot softer than it could be. I listen to a lot of people like Andrew Scott and Tom Vaughn-Lawlor, worked a lot with the wonderful coaches — Neil Swain and Judith McSpadden — and luckily, you and Ed [Guiney] we're never too far out of earshot! I didn't want it too twangy, which I noticed it can sometimes be. That didn't feel right for Nick. It was useful talking to you about that very particular world and upbringing. And although in some ways it's very different, it was useful to get a flavour of some of those types of schools and boys and backgrounds from What Richard Did.

LA: I think it's hard for people in our industry who gets a lot of attention not to let it go to their heads. You manage to be open, generous and kind to everyone that you're working with. How do you guard against becoming disconnected from other people?

JA: Well, thanks for saying that but I make sure my days include plenty of crippling insecurity, impostor syndrome, and self-doubt. Plus, I'm awful to people behind their backs! No, I guess because why wouldn't you be? it makes me frustrated, the rare times that you see people treat others unkindly on set. Who do you think you are?! I don't know. you don't see it often, and I'm lucky that I've never worked with a real tyrant, but I've seen flavours of that kind of behaviour and it doesn't help anyone. I honestly think I'd find it harder to work if I ostracized myself from people in that way. it's also literally our job to stay very connected and empathize with others… not to disconnect altogether and stand on some higher ground.

LA: Now that you worked with me, does it feel like you've peaked? Joking aside — I'm not joking — who are the film makers you'd be most excited to collaborate with?

JA: During these past few months that you've been in postproduction, I finally managed to process and (just about) come to terms with the fact that you were indeed my peak, my everything, my summit. My perfect pint of Guinness on a warm, sunny day. Where do I go from here? In all honesty, I have an overly long list of people I'd love to work with. Brace yourself… Off the top of my head… Chloé Zhao, Rob Eggers, Sean Durkin, Lynne Ramsey, the Coens, Luca Guadagnino, Debra Granik, Eliza Hittman, PTA, Francis Lee, Barry Jenkins, Martin McDonagh, Guillermo Del Toro, Chris Nolan, Andrea Arnold, Ruben Östlund, László Nemes, Greta Gerwig, Craig Gillespie… Okay enough! But it goes on…

LA: I love The Souvenir Part 2. Joanna Hogg is a brilliant filmmaker with a particular way of working with script. How was that experience for you?

JA: I loved being a part of that film! Joanna doesn't, to my knowledge, ever give a script to the actors, so everything is improvised. You have no idea what the full story is, and only a few directions are given as to the shape of the scene. I found the improvisation scary but oddly liberating, and really refreshing. There's nowhere to hide. You can't not listen to whoever you're talking to. There is no incoming queue. It feels real and alive. And Joanna will curate the scene after each take, honing in on the bits that worked well. I only popped in for a couple of days on the film but I'm so happy to have been a part of it and I'd love to work with Joanna again. Yes, she's a brilliant filmmaker.

LA: Now that we are close to broadcasting the show, do you feel nervous about how it will be received, particularly in light of the success of Normal People?

JA: I don't think it's hit me at the people will actually see it. it still feels like we're in this bubble of making it, maybe because the turn around was so fast and we only finished a few months ago… or maybe because it was created in the pandemic. Inevitably, as with anything, there are nerves about people seeing it. I do feel that it's very different to normal people though. it shares similar qualities, but it does feel very much its own thing. it isn't 'Normal People Part II,’ and I think that separation helps. I'm happy that people will see the show soon. I hope it will at least spark some conversations… with… well, I don't know, perhaps, their friends? Alright, enough for me! thanks so much for taking the time to ask me these questions, Lenny. I appreciate it. See you soon for a pint.  

[credit]

#joe alwyn #interview #arena homme+ #conversations with friends #love this so much one of his best interviews for sure !!!!

[chaos-burst]

one way or another (i’m gonna get you)

Dorian has a problem.

That problem is currently drunk off his ass and trying to balance one of Opal’s daggers on the tip of his nose. Of course he’s failing miserably, hitting himself in the eye with the blunt end twice thus far and maybe Dorian shouldn’t chuckle about it, but Dariax just keeps trying as Opal and Fearne edge him on.

“If you’re not careful you’ll stab your own eye out”, Orym says. He’s still nursing the same beer he started drinking an hour ago, probably to stay sober enough to stop any shenanigans that go too far.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, buddy. That already happened to me, like, three times, and I just healed it back together. No big deal.”

Dorian can see that Orym is at a loss for words.

“Dorian, do you think I can do it?”, Dariax calls over to him where he’s sitting, holding his lute and enjoying the warm evening breeze.

“Sure, Dariax. I’ll write a song about you if you do”, he says with an amused smile. Dorian tries to keep his smile from widening as Dariax beams at him and tries even harder.

All his life Dorian has been taught to be proper and well behaved—maybe that is why he feels drawn towards—well. Towards the group. The group that Dariax is also a part of and that Dorian definitely doesn’t feel drawn towards more than any of the others.

He starts moving his fingers mindlessly over the strings of his lute as Dariax stumbles backwards, falls over Opal’s outstretched legs and lands in her lap with the dagger clattering to the ground in front of them.

Dorian thinks about Dariax sitting on his lap, then he almost chokes on his own spit because so far Dariax hasn’t done anything even remotely appealing or attractive. He’s had shit on his beard, piss on his hands, he’s dirty and loud and so obnoxious.

But when he told Dorian that he’s the handsome one and that he’s just good at talking to people and whether Dorian wants some tips from him—Dorian was tempted. For a split second, he was thinking about Dariax offering to teach him how to flirt.

Because Dorian might be aware that he’s handsome, but he has exactly zero idea about how to flirt with people.

“Hey, Dorian! Do I still get a song?”, Dariax shouts, still half sitting in Opal’s lap.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll write you a song.”

“Cool! It’s a promise!”, Dariax says, thumbs up, a big grin on his handsome face.

There, Dorian can admit it.

Dariax is handsome. They’re all handsome. It’s really no big deal. Not at all.

Dorian tries not to think about what his parents would say about Dariax, because it’s completely irrelevant. It’s not like his parents will meet his friends, and especially not Dariax. Maybe he should go to bed and hope that come the next morning his circling thoughts will have stopped.

“Are you working on the song?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head, only to come face to face with Dariax who managed to get up from Opal’s lap and is now sitting right next to him, leaning way into Dorian’s personal space.

Dariax smells like ten different kinds of alcohol, leather and thankfully no bodily fluids, which is definitely an improvement. Dorian wishes that the fact that he’s seen this man with shit on his beard would dissuade his heart from beating a little faster every time Dariax grins at him.

Sadly his heart doesn’t care.

Neither does his stomach, which is currently doing all kinds of complicated gymnastics since Dariax invaded Dorian’s personal space.

“No. I don’t think I can concentrate in here while all that is going on”, Dorian says and gestures towards Opal who is now teaching Fearne how to do body shots.

“Aw, man. Can you play something? Something...hm. Something cool.”

“All my songs are cool, thank you very much!”

Dariax laughs.

“Yeah, okay, you’re not wrong there. You have a really beautiful voice, buddy. No wonder that goliath lady fell in love with you after like, three minutes!”

Dorian feels something that reminds him a lot of the feeling he gets when he’s falling or misses a step on some stairs. His heart starts doing an offensive little tumble and he clears his throat a little too loud as he leans out of Dariax’ space and clutches his lute as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t think I would know what to do if someone actually fell in love with me”, Dorian says with an embarrassingly shrill laugh and a second after the words have left his mouth he regrets them already.

“Aw, buddy, I told you—I can totally teach you a few tricks, you know? Just show you how to get real popular with the ladies. Or gents. Or people in general”, Dariax says and winks at him.

Dorian wishes he could turn into thin air. His cheeks feel very hot.

“I—uh. I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not like I really have the time—“

Dariax snorts and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on, Dorian. We’re just hanging out, right? If you wanna get laid, we have plenty of time for that. You should just relax a little more. Okay, so. What’s your type?”

Dorian stares at Dariax for almost thirty seconds before he clears his throat again.

“Uh. I—don’t. Well. Adventurous. Maybe—uh. Maybe brunettes?”

“Adventurous brunettes? That’s pretty vague, buddy. Just saying. Wait a second!”

Dariax leans closer again and puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Then he does a terrible shout-whisper into Dorian’s ear that shouldn’t give him goosebumps but, fuck, it definitely does.

“Are you into Orym?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head to stare at Dariax who looks as if he just found out an earth-shattering secret through some careful investigation.

“N—no! No, he’s not. I mean, Orym is—fine? I don’t, uh—what I meant to say is... I don’t really know what my type is”, he ends lamely.

Of course Dariax feels the need to put an arm around Dorian now.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you laid in no time. You have a pretty face and voice and all that, pretty sure that’ll go easy peasy.”

“That’s really not—“

“Hey guys, what are you whispering about?”, Opal shouts.

“We’re trying to figure out what Dorian’s type is to get him laid!”, Dariax shouts back.

“No, that’s not—“

“Ohh! Interesting! You don’t have a type? Did you never have a relationship before? Wait—are you like, a virgin?”

Dorian abruptly gets up from his chair. He’s definitely not drunk enough for this.

“I’m going to bed”, he says and leaves the room in a hurry, ignoring the disappointed shouts of his new friends following him outside.

*

Dorian hopes that his friends have forgotten the whole thing about supposedly getting him laid and about how Dariax intends to teach him flirting. But unfortunately the universe decides to not do him this favor.

Suddenly, every remotely attractive person they pass invokes a whole litany of questions.

Opal, Fearne and Dariax want to know everything. Which height, body-type, eye color, temperament, and style of clothing does he like? Does he prefer any genders to others? On six different occasions, Dariax tries to wingman Dorian into asking random strangers on dates.

Dorian is so desperate that he considers just telling them that he actually has someone back home, just so they will leave him alone.

It wouldn’t be the first lie he told.

Dorian feels a pang of guilt for lying about his name to these people who keep fighting alongside him.

Orym, bless his soul, is the only person who doesn’t partake in these interrogations and at some point, after Opal had asked Dorian if he was more into “tits or asses” Orym had quietly stated that “he deserves his privacy, you guys”.

Dorian has no idea if he’s a “tits or asses” kinda guy.

But Dorian just can’t stop thinking about the way Dariax’ voice sounded when it lilted “Man, you have the prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen” the last time they were drunk.

It seems weirdly typical and ridiculous that Dorian has to have his first crush on the most chaotic man he ever met.

Dorian wishes he could forget about those damn words, just like everything that happened in their first week.

“You know”, Orym says to him two nights after that cursed conversation as they’re making their way further south towards Byroden, “if you told them to stop in earnest, I think they would respect that.”

The landscape is a carpet of green, sloping hills, rolling fields that lie bare now that winter is closing in around them. The sky is blue and cloudless and as they talk their breath puffs up in front of their faces and vanishes shortly after.

Dorian looks at Orym and then pointedly turns his gaze at Opal and Dariax, who started making a list of their findings regarding Dorian’s type.

“You sure?”, he says with one eyebrow raised.

Orym looks at least as pained as Dorian feels right now.

“I see your point. But they’re not—you know. Not bad people, I guess. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“Well, they’re not hurting me, they’re annoying me to death!”

Orym pats him on the back in a way that is so pitiful, Dorian can hardly take it.

“I wouldn’t usually encourage lying, but maybe you could just make up a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or—“

“What if I just tell them that you’re my type”, Dorian interrupts and Orym blinks at him.

“Uh—“

“No offense, you’re not. Not that you’re not handsome or anything, I just. Well—“

“It’s fine”, Orym says with a snort and shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “You don’t have to fuss about it. You’re also very handsome but not my type.”

Dorian tries not to be offended after the last kick to his ego in Gilmore’s shop and clears his throat.

“Okay, so. What about it? Will you be my—I don’t know. My fake boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Orym, I’m desperate here!”

“I will not be swept up in all of that. I still think you should just try to talk to them.”

Dorian feels betrayed and huffs, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. It’s probably going to be fine, he thinks. That is, until Dariax walks up to him, grins up at him cheekily and bumps his elbow into Dorian’s side.

“So. Are you finally ready to admit it?”, Dariax asks.

There is a glint in his eyes that Dorian can’t quite read.

“Admit what?”, he asks, already dreading the answer.

“That you have the hots for Orym!”

Dorian stares down at Dariax, the man he, so, so very unfortunately has “the hots for” and sighs deeply.

“You caught me”, he says with a gravelly voice. “I have the hots for Orym.”

“I knew it!”, Dariax shouts, then catches himself and turns his voice into a whisper instead. “I fucking knew it!”

Dorian massages his temple.

Maybe becoming an adventurer was a terrible idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. He could make a name for himself somewhere else. The Menagerie coast is supposed to be lovely all year around.

“Okay, don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha. I’ll keep your secret, won’t even tell the girls at all. And you know what, because we’re such great friends I have a special offer just for you”, Dariax says and leans in even closer to Dorian, who has to lean down significantly.

“And what offer is that?”, Dorian asks with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. At least Orym knows that Dorian isn’t actually attracted to him, so, he thinks, this can’t possibly get any worse.

“I should totally be your fake boyfriend so you can make him jealous.”

Dorian stares at Dariax.

Dariax stares back with the proudest grin on his handsome face.

The universe is trying to punish him. For whatever reason, it must have decided to make Dorian the butt of a cosmic joke. That’s the only explanation for all of this.

“I don’t think that’s—“

“It’s perfect! Don’t worry, I have experience with this sort of stuff, just lemme handle this.”

Dariax winks at Dorian and then grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Hey guys”, he calls as he pulls Dorian along who follows helplessly, his heart stumbling in his chest as his consciousness zooms in on the feeling of Dariax’ hand in his, “guess what. I should’ve clocked it all along, but of course it makes perfect sense! Check it out!”

And as Orym, Opal and Fearne turn their heads, Dariax raises their intertwined fingers and beams at the others.

“Wait…”, Orym starts slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion, “what…?”

“Too late, Orym. He’s my boyfriend now”, Dariax says and Dorian wishes that the wind would just pick him up and carry him away.

*

Dorian has to say something.

He can’t, under any circumstances, keep this up.

He is sitting—and gods, his heart is beating so terribly fast—on Dariax’ lap.

Dariax had insisted on it and now his muscular arms are wound around Dorian’s waist as if this is the most normal thing in the world. For someone who doesn’t actually have to breathe to survive, Dorian feels a little bit like he’s suffocating from the staccato inside his rib cage.

They made camp close to a rock formation that, according to Fearne, looks like a pig with wings. The night smells of snow, but Dorian feels hot despite the cold.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He knows it even less when Dariax’ hand finds one of his and just casually starts rubbing circles into the back of his hand with a thumb. Dorian can feel Orym’s eyes on them and sadly that edges Dariax on even more because he thinks his plan is working.

“You know”, Dariax says and sounds way too casual about it, “I can’t believe how lucky I got. Pretty sure you’re the most beautiful person I’ve been with so far, Dorian.”

“I—uh”, Dorian says, then somehow forgets how to speak. His cheeks feel incredibly hot even though he doesn’t sit remotely close to the fire.

Orym cocks his head and suddenly his eyes turn a little too wide for Dorian’s tastes.

Dorian doesn’t want anyone to understand anything about this disaster.

“Well, I would certainly love a boyfriend who tells me nice things like that”, Opal sighs dreamily. “Or—you know. Maybe a girlfriend. Who knows. I certainly don’t.”

She laughs a little too shrilly but Dorian doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about it anymore because a tingling sensation is running through his body and crawling along the underside of his skin as Dariax’ fingers just keep on gently, way too gently, drawing nonsensical symbols and circles on Dorian’s hand.

“Well, I just know what’s good. I make a great boyfriend”, Dariax announces with a smug undertone to his voice. The sad thing is that Dorian can’t even disagree.

So far, Dariax has been nothing but—well. There is no other word for it. Gentle and accommodating. He also started flirting with Dorian and his flirting only ever got tasteless twice during the last twenty-four hours.

He has offered to carry stuff for Dorian, held his hand, given him way too many compliments for Dorian’s poor heart to handle, helped him climb over some rocks and purposefully took a hit for Dorian in combat earlier today while shouting “Not my boyfriend, you ash-hole!”.

If someone had told him that Dariax makes good boyfriend material, Dorian would have scoffed at them.

But now.

Well.

Now he’s in even deeper shit, because this doesn’t help his feelings at all. It does the exact opposite of helping.

Gods, Dorian wishes he could kiss him.

“Well, I am certainly—uh. Happy? For you two”, Orym says with a pointed look at Dorian. Dorian tries to tell Orym that this wasn’t his idea with his eyes alone, that this is the worst, that Dorian definitely needs saving, but he doesn’t think anything gets across because the moment that Orym says that and looks at Dorian, Dariax seems to decide that he can’t have Orym looking at Dorian like that.

Dorian makes an embarrassing screeching sound as he is dipped backwards on Dariax’ lap. There is a very handsome, dwarven face with glinting eyes right in front of his when he opens his eyes again.

“Just go along”, Dariax whispers and before Dorian can protest or even just try to catch up with what’s happening, there are dry, warm lips pressed against his mouth and Dariax is closing his eyes.

Dorian’s brain is blank for a few seconds, then it kicks into overdrive, much like his heart that seems eager to jump right out of his chest and into the campfire. Dorian can’t fault it, because he, too, would love to jump into the campfire, never to be seen again.

Dariax is holding him with one arm while his other hand is resting on Dorian’s cheeks where Dariax’ thumb starts rubbing circles again as he kisses Dorian.

Dorian wants to run away.

He wants to kiss back.

He wants this to be real.

Dariax doesn’t actually want to kiss him. He only does it because he’s pretending, there is nothing real about any of this, no matter how nice and exciting his warm lips feel against Dorian’s.

Dorian pushes him away, clambers up from his position, trying very hard not to fall as he stands up, and steps away from Dariax hastily.

“I—ah. I need to. Pee. Yes. Pee. I’ll be—uh. Later!”

And he walks as fast as he can without breaking into a run.

His lips are still burning after he stops walking without even seeing where he’s going. It’s dumb. All of this is so incredibly dumb.

Beautiful eyes, beautiful voice, beautiful person.

Dariax really has to stop saying these things.

It’s already enough that Dorian developed this stupid crush after such a short amount of time on the road. It’s stupid that it had to be Dariax of all people—couldn’t it have been someone reasonable? Like Orym?

Couldn’t it just have been no one? Or a nice, noble lady that he impressed with his songs and good looks?

No.

He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with no clue where he even is or what he’s doing. The trees around him are leafless and bare, stretching towards the dark sky like skeletal silhouettes. Dorian doesn't know what to do.

Dariax kissed him.

He had his first kiss with a complete and utter maniac of a person. His lips are still tingling and gods, he wants to kiss him again and again and again—

“Dorian! Doriaaan!”

Dorian turns around and wipes at his face that feels weirdly wet.

Gods, he hates everything and everyone right now.

Dariax comes to a halt in front of him, his breath coming quickly and holding his compass rose.

“Okay—wow. Your legs. Are so. Long. You’re so. Fucking fast”, Dariax huffs and puts his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

Dorian looks at him and can’t decide whether he wants to kick Dariax in the shin or just run away further.

“So, uh—sorry. I got a little carried away and I kinda—uh. It was brought to my attention that it wasn’t very cool of me to just kiss you without asking if that’s okay with you. So—uh. Really sorry about that, shoulda thought about that before I—uh. You know.”

Dariax scratches the back of his head as he looks down at Dorian’s left knee.

“It’s—well. Yeah, I suppose a little warning would have been nice. It’s—uh.”

Dorian stops and wipes at his face again and when he looks back up Dariax is studying him, his gaze intense and uncharacteristically serious.

“Wait—wait a second. Was that your first kiss?”

“No! I mean. Yes! Sort of! Maybe!”

Dariax gapes and Dorian wishes the earth could swallow him up whole.

“Oh fuck, buddy, man, that’s. I’m really sorry, I didn’t—damn. I really fucked that one up, huh?”

Dariax looks so earnestly mortified at what he’s done that Dorian can already feel how he’s forgiving him, how he finds it endearing, how his heart swells in his chest like the idiot that it is.

“It’s not such a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just—uh. Maybe we should talk about all of this stuff before… you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally. I swear I’m usually not a creep or anything, it was just… you know. The heat of the moment, or something. So…”

Dariax is scratching the back of his head again and swallows before he shoots Dorian a lopsided grin.

“So. No kissing and stuff like that, huh? Just the hand-holding? Hey, maybe a hug or something?”

Dorian stares at him and he could swear that Dariax’ cheeks are a little redder than before, which, Dorian supposes, comes from his embarrassment about his earlier fuck-up.

As long as they’re doing this fake-boyfriend gig, Dorian could kiss Dariax whenever he wants. Because apparently Dariax doesn’t mind that one little bit. He might never get the chance again to kiss him if he says no now.

So Dorian does something incredibly stupid and impulsive and maybe it’s even a real ash-hole move. In this tiny moment in time he decides to be selfish.

“Kissing is fine. Uh—you know. You’re not that bad at it, I guess”, he says and laughs which sounds terribly false in his own ears but Dariax perks up and throws him a reckless grin that makes Dorian’s heart stumble in his chest.

“Ha! You just wait for it, I’ll kiss your brains out before you know it!”

*

Dorian might be addicted.

He knows that this is all a ruse based on a misunderstanding but gods, kissing Dariax is so good.

And Dariax somehow makes it seem as if he’s just as into it as Dorian is, because he keeps kissing him all the time. Of course, it never happens when they’re alone and only when Orym is in more or less close proximity but if Dorian isn’t careful he’ll start believing that they’re actually boyfriends sooner than later.

Dariax is so good at pretending.

He kisses Dorian as if he never wants to kiss anyone else. He holds Dorian’s face in his hands as if it’s something precious. He kisses Dorian breathless and at more than one point Dorian had to stop him because he was getting a little too into it and he’s afraid of overstepping any boundaries.

Dariax promised that he would kiss Dorian’s brains out and it’s absolutely working. On the seventh day on their journey south they get so caught up in making out that they don’t realize that the others have gone to find a camping place for the night.

“We should—uh. Probably follow them”, Dorian croaks and stares down at Dariax’ lips.

“Hmhm. Yeah. Probably a good idea”, Dariax mumbles. Then he kisses Dorian again.

Dorian gets lost in the sensation of tongues sliding against one another and the feeling of Dariax’ hand cupping his cheeks. Dorian slides his hands into Dariax’ hair and buries his fingers in there, something that provokes a sound from Dariax. A sound that gives Dorian goosebumps all over his arms.

He wants to hear it again. He wants to touch more. He wants, he wants, he wants—

Dariax pulls back, his eyes glassy, his breathing labored.

“I—uh. Ha. I got a little carried away. Sorry. What do you say about checking where the others went?”

“Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Let’s go.”

He steps away from Dariax and stuffs his hands into his pockets to keep Dariax from reaching for them. This is a complete and utter disaster.

Dorian knows that he should stop it.

He shouldn’t abuse Dariax’ trust like this and keep up his pretense when all that Dariax wants is to help Dorian make Orym jealous.

Which has, of course, not worked in the slightest, but Dariax insists that it’s just because Orym is such a rational and level-headed guy.

“We just need to wear him thin, you know.”

Dorian doesn’t know.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

When they finally reach the campsite, Fearne has placed her head in Opal’s lap and seems to be napping as Opal carefully braids her long, green hair.

“You guys alright?”, Orym asks with his eyebrows raised. Dorian feels himself flush and clear his throat.

“More than alright”, Dariax answers and winks. The implication makes Dorian’s cheeks heat up even more.

He didn’t think that Orym’s eyebrows could climb even higher, but that’s exactly what happens as he regards the two of them.

“Dorian, can I talk to you for a second?”, Orym asks and gets up from the log he was sitting on. Dorian shoots Dariax a glance and he seems… off.

Dariax doesn’t return Dorian’s look, he just walks over to the fire, lets himself fall down next to Opal and asks, way too loudly to be necessary “So what’s for dinner?”.

But Dorian doesn’t have any time to think more about this, because Orym grabs his wrist and pulls him towards a group of trees, away from the campfire and away from Dariax whose eyes seem to bore themselves into the back of Dorian’s head as he follows Orym into the night.

“What are you doing?”

Dorian doesn’t have to ask what Orym means. He wrings his hands and stares at the ground.

“I—uh. I don’t really... I don’t really know?”

“So when you said adventurous and brunette, what you actually meant was short, stocky and a complete disaster?”

“I—um...”

Orym looks at him with raised eyebrows and despite the fact that Dorian is so much taller than him he suddenly feels very small.

“Well. Dariax kind of got it into his head that I’m into you. Which I’m not.”

“Yes, we established that.”

“Exactly. And. Well, he thought it would be a good idea to be fake boyfriends to make you jealous.”

Orym’s eyebrows rise even higher towards his hairline.

“But I’m not jealous. Because you and I are just friends.”

“I know, okay? It just kinda got out of hand?He’s so—I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!”

Orym sighs and rubs his temples.

“So. You’re actually into Dariax?”, he asks.

Dorian presses his lips together and takes a deep breath before he nods.

“And he doesn’t know. He thinks you’re into me?”

Dorian nods again.

“And now he’s waiting for me to get jealous and for us two to be boyfriends?”

Dorian shrugs helplessly.

“Isn’t that... I don’t know. It seems like lying to him.”

“What do you want me to do? Just tell him that I have the hots for him and then leave the country forever?”, Dorian hisses.

“Well, maybe he has the hots for you, too!”, Orym whispers back and Dorian can’t help but laugh. It sounds a little hysterical.

“Then why would he offer to help me to get with you?”

Orym stares at Dorian for a full thirty seconds. Then he sighs.

“I guess it’s a little hard to... fathom... what goes on in Dariax’ head.”

“That seems like an understatement.”

Orym scoffs and shakes his head with half a smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for—that.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I guess to each their own.”

“So what’s your type then?”

“Uh—I don’t really have a type. I’m not into the whole relationship stuff. Or—uh. The sex stuff, for that matter.”

“Oh. Oh! I see. Well, that seems pretty convenient. Way less stressful than what I’m doing with my life.”

Orym smiles and shakes his head again.

“I’m not going to lie, when I’m watching you and Dariax or Opal and Fearne I am glad that I don’t have to deal with any of it”, Orym admits.

“Opal and Fearne? How do you mean?”, Dorian asks. His brain is still stuck on kissing Dariax without Orym even being in any close proximity. His whole brain capacity seems to be occupied by thinking about Dariax. It’s an absolute clusterfuck.

“Never mind. So, what do you intend to do? You can’t keep this up forever”, Orym says and pulls Dorian away from a trail of thoughts that was leading towards something explicit and utterly unbefitting of a talk with a good friend about feelings.

“I—uh. I’m still figuring it out. I’ll just. You know, I could just tell him that I’m not into you anymore and then he would probably stop”, Dorian says and ignores the uncomfortable tightness of his chest as he thinks about not being able to kiss Dariax anymore. Or hold his hand. Or being told that he’s beautiful.

He’s so fucked.

“I think you should just tell him, you know? We’re adventurers now, no one knows what might happen. If I learned anything from our Voice of the Tempest, it’s that you should do your best to live without any regrets, because time is a precious thing”, Orym says.

“A weird soup”, Dorian answers, his voice weak and his heart hurting. Orym snorts.

“Yes, sure. A weird, precious soup. Anyway. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

*

Something is up with Dariax.

Dorian has no idea what it is, but there is definitely something wrong.

He’s quieter than usual, which is disconcerting. He’s also, very definitely, holding onto Dorian’s hand way tighter than before.

“Hey, is everything alright?”, Dorian asks him quietly as they’re getting ready for the night. The sky overhead is dark and full of clouds and the moon is barely visible.

“Yeah, sure. Stellar”, Dariax says but he’s not looking at Dorian.

“You don’t look stellar”, Dorian insists and puts his hand on Dariax’ shoulder. Dariax’ eyes flicker down to his hand and then up to his face. Dariax opens his mouth to answer, but Dorian doesn’t hear anything because there is a searing pain on his back and he slumps forward and crumples onto his knees.

His vision goes blurry from the pain and he can feel that there is something coursing through his body. It hurts.

“Dorian? Dorian!”

Lying down seems like a great idea. What if he dies now and he didn’t even tell Dariax that he’s not into Orym? What if his adventure ends here already? He doesn’t want to sink into the weird soup that is time already. He wants…

“Take your hands off my boyfriend, you fuckers!”

“Hey! What’s going on?”

“Dorian, are you okay?”

He is definitely not okay and while he probably should have different priorities as he’s bleeding out in the grass, all he can think about is the fact that Dariax just called him his boyfriend.

“Dorian, are you okay?”, Dariax’ voice sounds muffled and far away.

“Heh. You’re really good at pretending”, he lulls as he’s turned onto his back to look up at Dariax’ face.

“What? Guys, I think he has a concussion or something!”

“Well, heal him!”

“I’m trying! Dorian, hey! Buddy, don’t pass out on me, okay?”

“Did you know that your eyes are really pretty?”, Dorian slurs and he wants to raise a hand to touch Dariax’ face that seems way too red all of a sudden, but he can’t move a muscle and as he feels Dariax’ warm healing magic flow into him, he passes out from the mind-numbing pain.

*

Dorian has never shared a bed with anyone. Neither in a platonic nor in a romantic or sexual way.

When he wakes up there is someone plastered to his side. The quiet snoring tells him that it must be Dariax.

“Are you okay, Dorian?”, Fearne’s soft voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to see her sit on his other side, her hand places closed to his shoulder as if to make sure that he’s within reach.

“Uh—ow. Yeah. What happened?”

Dorian tries to concentrate on his own body and on Fearne’s words, but he’s distracted by the feeling of Dariax sleeping so close to him. His arm is thrown over Dorian’s chest and his face is pressed into Dorian’s shoulder. Orym is nowhere to be seen.

“Those Nameless Ones seem to have a pretty far reach. They really want that spider crown.”

Dorian groans as he tries to move.

“They hit me with poison or something?”

“Yeah. Dariax fixed it. Then he insisted on carrying you back to the cart. Then he insisted to tuck you into bed. And then he just sort of flopped down next to you and stared at you really intensely until he passed out.”

Dorian tries to laugh but almost chokes on it as he imagines this short man trying to carry someone as tall as Dorian. His thoughts circle around the fact that Dariax cared for him, healed him, tucked him into bed.

“So. Ah—where are Orym and Opal?”, he asks to distract himself from the feeling of having Dariax pressed so close to him.

“They’re checking to see if we’ll be safe for the night. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Fearne smiles down at him and starts scratching Little Mister under the chin as she hums a melody that Dorian’s never heard before.

“Did you ever have a really dumb crush?”, he asks before he can stop himself. Fearne turns her head to look at him again and cocks her head.

“A crush that was dumb because it wasn’t mutual or a crush that was dumb because the person was dumb?”, she wants to know.

“Ah. Huh—I haven’t thought about it that way. I guess… how about we go with both?”

Fearne puts her index fingers to her lips and cocks her head from side to side as she thinks about it.

“Well, I don’t think crushes are dumb just because they aren’t mutual. And I also think that Opal is very intelligent in her own, special way.”

Dorian blinks.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on Opal?”

“Sure. I thought it was pretty obvious”, Fearne says and smiles dreamily.

“Uh—maybe. Now that you mention it, I think Orym clocked it.”

“She is just. You know. Very exciting and spontaneous and funny and creative and pretty.”

The way that Fearne just talks about her crush makes Dorian wonder why he isn’t able to just say it like this. That he likes Dariax because he’s funny and brave and adventurous and a complete idiot in a lovable kind of way.

“What do you like about Dariax?”, Fearne wants to know.

“Uh—well”, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. Dariax is still softly snoring into his shoulder. “I guess… I guess pretty much everything?”

“That’s so sweet! And that’s what he said too. You guys just fit so well”, Fearne says with an earnest smile.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that you guys fit really well.”

“No. No, I meant before that.”

“Uh—well, when I asked him what he liked most about you, he also said that he likes everything about you. I thought it was really sweet, you know? There was a whole list of things, but he stopped midway through it and said ‘So basically, everything’.”

There was a whole list of things.

A list.

 “So basically, everything.”

“Dorian? Are you really okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Hm? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. Perfect. Peachy. Never better.”

He laughs nervously and glances over at Dariax as his insides dissolve into small, hyperactive butterflies. Maybe it’s not what he thinks. Maybe Dariax meant that he likes everything about Dorian as a friend.

“If you’re sure you’re okay I think I’ll stretch my legs a little bit. This cart is pretty small”, Fearne says and scoots towards the exit of the cart. Little Mister follows behind her and a moment later Dorian is alone with a snoring Dariax, whose hand has somehow managed to sneak under Dorian’s shirt.

What is he supposed to do now?

Wake Dariax up? Confess his feelings?

His heart beats so quickly that Dorian is almost afraid that it might just leap out of his rib cage. In the end he’s not brave enough to wake Dariax up and instead intertwines their fingers and turns his head to look at Dariax who has definitely drooled onto his shirt.

He knows that he’s completely fucked because he thinks that this is endearing.

Dorian raises his arm and gently cards his hand through Dariax’ hair.

Dariax makes a small sound in his sleep, something that sounds like a content sigh, and the butterflies in Dorian’s stomach start dancing happily.

“D’you really think my eyes are pretty?”, Dariax mumbles a second later and Dorian pulls his hand away hastily as Dariax’ eyes open.

“Um—well. Yeah. They’re… they have a very nice color”, Dorian croaks. Dariax pulls his hand out from under Dorian’s shirt and starts rubbing at his eyes.

“You okay again?”

“Yeah. Thank you for saving me. And carrying me to the cart. And—uh. Tucking me in.”

Dariax’ cheeks redden as he coughs slightly before sitting up.

“Well, you know. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”, Dariax says with half a laugh in his voice that doesn’t sound completely genuine.

Dorian swallows and bites his bottom lip as he tries to find the words. He’s usually not bad at talking, so why does this seem so endlessly hard?

“So—uh. I have something to confess”, he starts as his thoughts start spinning around in panicked circles. Dariax turns his head to look down at him.

“I know, I know”, he answers.

“Huh?”

“Well, I figured, you know. When Orym dragged you away I thought you guys probably had a talk?”

“We did, yeah”, Dorian says but he is endlessly confused about what that has to do with anything.

“See, I knew it. So you think it finally started working, huh? Told you, I’m really good at this kind of stuff.”

Dorian decides that he has to sit up for this. His head is spinning and his heart is racing and he is endlessly confused about what in the ever-loving hell is going on.

“Working? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the jealousy thing.”

Dorian stares at him.

Then it finally clicks.

“Dariax… I don’t want to be fake boyfriends anymore”, he says quietly before he can think of a better way to say it. Dariax’ expression twists and he looks away, his hand reaching for the back of his head to scratch at his scalp—a sign for nervousness, as Dorian knows by now.

“Yeah. Okay. I—uh. That’s—“

“I want to be your real boyfriend.”

Dariax blinks a few times. Then his face turns the deepest shade of red that Dorian has ever seen on him.

“You—what?”

“I don’t like Orym. I never have. Not like that. I—uh. I like you. And when—if—I kiss you again I don’t want it to be just pretend, I want to really kiss you. Because I—uh. I really like kissing you.”

Dariax is still staring at him, seemingly stunned. The hand at the back of his head has stopped moving and started to sink slowly back into Dariax’ lap.

“So…”, Dorian says and the nervous energy humming under his skin is almost unbearable, “can I? Can I… kiss you? For real?”

If Dariax doesn’t say anything soon Dorian might have to flee from the cart and actually leave the country. The suspense is torturous, his words hang heavy in the air between them. And then, faster than Dorian can react, Dariax lounges himself at Dorian and kisses him so passionately that Dorian can’t suppress the moan that escapes him.

Dariax pushes at him, shoves Dorian back down onto the bedroll, sinks one hand into Dorian’s long hair and cups his face with the other.

Dorian’s brain goes blank as he arches up against Dariax’ weight on top of him.

“So, is that a yes?”, he pants into the kiss.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes”, Dariax rasps and kisses him again. “Gods, you’re so pretty. I thought I was going to go insane.”

Dorian makes a very embarrassing noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Maybe he likes those compliments more than a normal person would.

“So you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? So fucking much.”

Dariax is kissing his whole face now and Dorian wraps his arms around him. He feels light as a feather and the butterflies in his stomach have gone completely off the rails.

“Are you guys decent?”, Opal shouts from outside the cart.

“No! Go away! I want to make out with my boyfriend!”, Dariax shouts back and Dorian laughs.

“Don’t leave any icky spots though!”, Opal says.

“Oh, come on”, Dorian hears Orym protest.

“That’s what Prestidigitation is for, Opal! Read a book about magic!”, Dariax announces loudly and Dorian has no time to protest this obscene exchange because Dariax is kissing him again and Orym seems to be dragging Opal away from the cart.

“So do you know what that means?”, Dorian mumbles against Dariax’ lips.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need any flirting lessons from you after all.”

#critfic #exandria unlimited #exu #exu fic #dorian storm #dariax zaveon #fanfiction #mi writes #critical role #doriax #text #screeching into the void #this is 7k words of chaotic fake dating ooops

[fbfh]

rocks at your window pt. 2 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut (and warnings chapter by chapter) so as with all nsfw/smutty/steamy works, all characters are aged up to 18+ (ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year)

!! contains referenced spoilers for s1e4 of hsmtmts, and pt 1 of this fic !!

wc: 3.3k

genre: fluff, mild angst, slice of life/morning after shenanegins

pairing: ricky bowen x fem/afab/she her! reader

warnings: allusions and references to sex the night before, your mom is really cool about sex cause she taught you how to be safe and responsible, ricky's home life is not good cause of his mom rn, his mom yells at him over the phone, ricky stays with friends till things iron out/his mom goes back to chicago, encouraging him to set boundaries with his mom, "dna doesn't make a family" energy, nina has a "blood is thicker than water" stance and you do not, bad vibes quickly return but you help him through it, antagonizing nina/nina slander (but not ooc yikes), I think that's it??? besides general mommy issues so if that bothers you tread lightly lol

summary: Ricky knows he's falling hard and fast for you, craving nothing more than your touch, and he doesn't think feelings stronger than this exist. When you help him navigate a situation with his mom, he's proven wrong by you once again. Nina is shocked at his reaction to her breakup with EJ, and you begin to leave a bitter dare I say sour taste in her mouth. Ricky just wants your mouth on his, no matter how it tastes.

song rec: are you in love (intro) - the regrettes

a/n: oh my god season two was wild???? unsure how I feel, but I'm excited that we're caught up on episodes cause that means I can write more without getting distracted lol

also I am so surprised at how much I enjoy writing ricky??!!?!?! I love this boy pls give him the love and support he deserves

Meeting the parents is usually awkward at best, but meeting your mom the morning after Ricky and you had sex up in your room in the middle of the night is inarguably worse. He liked to think he was pretty good at talking to adults, he’d had plenty of practice convincing his teachers that just because he skates it doesn’t automatically make him a delinquent hoodlum. But standing in your kitchen, wearing your 90s cartoon print sweatpants and shirt that says ‘friends don’t let friends live in indiana’, he has no idea what to say to your mom, who’s holding some papers and a travel coffee cup, clearly about to leave for work. Thankfully it only feels like eternity that he’s standing there, a vague open mouthed smile, trying to figure out how to say hello without sounding like a lunatic. You enter the kitchen, a few seconds behind him, and greet your mom.

“Morning honey,” she says back, and you walk over to put up some coffee.

“I hope you don’t mind that Ricky stayed over last night, an emergency sleepover was very much called for.” You share a very subtle look, and she nods, understanding.

“Of course not,” she turns to him, “You’re welcome any time, Ricky.” Then back to you, “I’m headed for a meeting at city hall, I’ll text you if it looks like it’ll run late.”

“Good luck,” you say with a chuckle, “We both have rehearsal for most of today - homework will get done around that -” you amend, and she nods, “so I’ll be over by the costco near school if you need me to pick anything up on the way home.”

“Alright,” she smiles, pulling out her keys, “well, have fun at rehearsal, you two! And it was lovely meeting you Ricky. If you ever need anything we’re happy to have you.”

And that was it.

No interrogations, no snide looks, no criticisms that skateboarding and energy drinks are rotting his brain. Just some pleasant small talk and introductions, and that was it. Is that what it’s like for other people?

You catch the time on the microwave clock as you pull out the coffee, and your eyes flare.

“Oh shit, it’s like, 5 past 8,” you say, Ricky’s eyes mirroring yours. Rehearsal doesn’t technically start till 9, but it’s an unofficial rule among the cast that everyone shows up about a half hour early for warmups, going over notes, and generally going the extra mile.

“Shit,” he replies.

“Okay, uh,” you say, only panicking a little, “you have your script in your backpack, right?” He nods, and you continue, “Okay, we’ll just get dressed really fast, get some coffee on the way, and if we’re late it’s because of traffic or something.” You say, already heading back upstairs, Ricky right on your heels.

“Oh my god,” you giggle, bouncing up the stairs, “they’re gonna kill us if we’re late.”

“Hey,” he says, picking up his jeans and flannel from yesterday, catching the tee shirt you toss him, “practice for, uh, quick changes.” You turn to him, delight in your eyes.

“See, you’re getting it!” You say through the door into the bathroom as you both change as fast as you can, “You know more about theatre than you give yourself credit for-” your voice raises in pitch as you almost fall, trying to put on your jeans, “I’m fine!” you call, hearing Ricky’s laugh echo into your room. It’s a nice sound.

Before you know it, you’re parked at your favorite coffee shop. After how late you were up last night and how much happened yesterday, you encourage Ricky to get a coffee with you. Two iced coffees, one peach scone, and one chocolate croissant later, it’s 8:17 am. Ricky holds your place in line while you walk over to the red metal box by the windows, change in hand. You walk back over to him to pick up your order, stuffing something in your pocket.

“What’ve you got there?” he asks, a curious smile on his face.

“It’s a surprise,” you say, with a wiggle of your eyebrows. You pull out of the parking lot and start driving towards school, Ricky in the passenger seat. You check the clock again, now 8:27.

“Christ,” you mutter, pulling out your phone and calling Miss Jenn on speaker. She picks up after two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi Miss Jenn,” you introduce yourself, “and Ricky’s with me-”

“Hi Miss Jenn.” he calls into the phone.

“Ricky came over to my place early this morning to go over our lines in act 1, working through the notes you gave us,” you continue, jogging her memory of the awkward delivery between you two.

“Right,” she says.

“We completely lost track of time, and my gps got all messed up - we’ll be there well before 9 - but we might be 5 minutes late, so I wanted to give you a heads up,” you conclude as you turn left.

“Oh don’t worry about it, you two just get here safe. Have fun, and watch out for pedestrians!” she adds, joy that you and Ricky are finally bonding, evident in her voice. It’s pretty obvious why she’s happy that you and Ricky are spending time together; when rehearsals first started, he was so focused on trying to win back Nina that he didn’t really participate in the scenes you have together. You never had anything against him, and you’re glad now that he’s getting his head in the game - pun intended.

You thank her, then hang up. A minute later, you remember what’s in your pocket. You pull out two plastic bubbles and hand them to him. He recognizes them as prizes from a bubblegum style toy machine.

“I can never resist getting at least one of these little guys whenever I go there,” you punctuate the statement with a sip of your coffee. “So, what did we get?” You say, smiling. He looks at the little toys in his hand, chuckling as he opens them up.

“Two heart shaped rings,” he muses, “red and purple.”

“Oh my god, really?” you ask, looking over as he holds them up to show you, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten matching prizes. The last time I got two of these, they were a batman sticker and a small pot of strawberry lip gloss that was definitely rancid,” you recall with a laugh.

“Yeah,” he says, staring at the two hearts in his hand, a strange, warm feeling stirring in his chest, “what are the odds…”

“Must be fate,” you say with a smile. “Which one do you want?"

"I kinda like the red one," he muses, watching the way the silver glitter embedded in the plastic shines in the morning light.

"That's what I would have said too. Red suits you."

He looks over at you as you drive, his eyes wide and cheeks warm. What the hell is happening to him?

You stick your hand out, wiggling your fingers for him to place the purple ring on your hand. He looks at them, then very carefully, slips one onto your ring finger. He can feel that moment, your hand in his, as he gently places a ring on your finger, burn into his mind. Taking note of every single detail, he commits this moment, this feeling, to memory. He wants so desperately for this to last forever, but if you do eventually have to pull into the parking lot, he’ll settle for reliving you placing your hand in his again and again.

He snaps out of this thought, realizing if he holds your finger for much longer it’ll probably start to get awkward. After a moment he tears his eyes away from your hand, looking at your profile, your focus on the road and street signs.

“Does it fit?” he asks, softly with a nervous chuckle in his voice.

He watches you, bittersweet, as you finally retract your hand from his and give it a little shake.

“Like a glove.” you state, that sweet alluring smile once again gracing your lips.

You finally find a parking space, grab you bag and coffee, and exit the car, Ricky right behind you. You look over at him, trying to cram the child sized ring onto his hand.

“Does it fit?” you ask him back.

It doesn’t, but the last thing he wants is to slow this momentum you have going. It’s a nice energy, it’s comforting - and if he’s being honest - a little addictive.

“I… can make it fit,” he smiles, once again worried that something will somehow shatter this delicate euphoric feeling building up between you. You let out a laugh, the sound immediately putting a smile on his face.

“Don’t worry, dude,” you say, taking another sip of coffee, “you can wear it on your necklace.”

“Yeah,” he realizes, pulling the blank chain from under his (or rather, your) shirt.

“Cool, I can help you put it on when we’re inside,” you reply, opening the door to the building, but stopping when you see your hand. You look down at your finger, then over at Ricky. He gave you the red ring, and is holding the purple one.

“Aww,” you coo. He laughs and looks away, cheeks warm.

“I dunno,” he laughs, “I thought it was-”

“Perfect!” you finish, “Easily the sweetest thing anyone’s done for me.”

You pause.

“Which sounds kind of pathetic in retrospect.” you both laugh, finally entering the rehearsal room.

“Just a little,” he laughs, “you’ve gotta get some better friends.” You’re about to agree, that’s why you have him, you’re about to say, but Carlos approaches before you can.

“There you are! You need to try on your bop to the top dress to see if you can dance okay in it.”

He jiggles his leg, a warm, excited, kinetic energy running through him since this morning. Since last night. He bites his lip, smiling at the torrent of memories from just a few hours ago. His hand comes up, tracing the spot on his shoulder that’s almost definitely a hickey now. He plays with the little purple heart, your heart, in his hands. He looks up at you across the room, Kourtney adjusting your sequined skirt, while she and Carlos discuss range of motion and fabric choices.

You set down your bag on the chair next to Ricky’s.

“Be right back.” you smile, Ricky sitting down next to your backpack.

He realizes you probably have a hickey in the same spot. Or several. He giggles to himself, looking back down. He really didn’t expect himself to be this… flustered.

“Ricky,” he looks up, thoughts still consumed by the feeling of your hands gliding down his chest, at Nini. “Can we talk?”

He blinks.

“Uh,” he says, looking back over at you, doing a twirl in your skirt,surprising himself by how much he wants to walk right over to you and pull you into his arms and never let go. He tears his gaze away, back to Nini, waiting expectantly.

“Yeah,” he says, standing up, “sure.”

“So,” she begins again, presenting a certain, almost expectant, resignation, “I broke up with EJ…” she punctuates, letting her hands fall against her legs. She has the whole speech ready, she can’t just jump back into a relationship with him, especially after everything that’s happened. He’ll need to work hard to earn her trust again, then she’ll see where they are. She knows he’ll hug her, and hold on a little too long like he always does. He might try to kiss her, which she wouldn’t put past him. Now she just has to see what this news will do to him, and guage her response around that.

She leads him a few feet away from the majority of the cast. He catches himself glancing over your way again.

“So,” she starts. She clears her throat. He looks back at her.

He opens his mouth to answer, cut off by the buzzing of his phone. He checks it quickly, which she expected. He’s been on edge since the drama with his mom. She is, however, thrown off guard a little when he smiles at the screen, a dreamy look on his face for a second.

“Uh, Ricky,” she says, brow furrowed, a confused smile on her face. He looks back up at her and seems to remember where he is. His eyes flick back over to where everyone’s sitting. He places a hand on her shoulder, guiding her further from the crowd.

“Listen, Nini,” he starts. Here it comes, she thinks, and he continues. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and you’re right… we should go back to being friends, like before.”

That definitely throws her off guard.

“Even if we both did want to date again right now, it would be disrespectful to your feelings - cause you just broke up with EJ, you know? And I mean, we care about each other too much to do that.”

Where the hell is this going?

“You should take time to focus on yourself, on the show, and your music. I’ll be cheering you on - as a friend,” he amends, “the whole way.”

She searches his expression, almost seeming… impatient. She lets out a surprised laugh.

“Uh, yeah, I’m… really glad we can be mature about this.”

“Exactly,” he replies, “we’ve known each other for years, why mess that all up?” she agrees with him, and he nods.

“I’m glad you’re doing better,” he says, turning and heading back to his seat. You say something, and he turns away from you.

She watches you take off the chain from his neck, fingertips skimming over the collar of his shirt. She reads the blue text. I have never been to the moon. Ricky doesn’t have a shirt that says that, she would have remembered if he did. You do something to the chain, then you reattach it around his neck. She watches closely at his eyes, blinking dreamily as you sit closely behind him, fixing the clasp. You say something quietly in his ear, and he lets out a loud laugh.

A bad feeling stirs in her stomach. She texts Kourtney to meet her in the bathroom.

“So,” she begins, leaning against the sink, “I told Ricky that I broke up with EJ.”

“Oh no,” Kourtney says, “how bad was it?”

She braces for the worst.

“It went… well.” Nina says, catching Kourtney up on the last few, very weird minutes.

“So he’s okay,” she says, a relieved smile on her face, “thank god, now we can all go back to normal.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think it was weird the way he ran right over to her like a puppy or something?” Nina says, hoping Kourtney will pick up on her suspicion.

“Weird?”

“I just find it funny how he used to-”

“What, throw himself at you? Nini, that drove you crazy. Now you’re finally on the same page, he’s willing to be your friend - which is what you’ve been trying to get him to do for weeks!”

Nina lets out a contemptuous sigh.

“Give it some time, you and her might have more in common than you think” Kourtney says, heading back to the door. She turns around, pointing a stirn finger at Nina. “And don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Nina lets out a laugh.

“Thanks, Kourt.” They head back into the rehearsal room, Nina sitting a few seats away from Ricky and you. Far enough for some distance, but close enough to eavesdrop. Hypothetically. If she needed to.

“Alright, cast,” Miss Jenn begins, almost ready to start rehearsal, “today-”

She’s cut off by her phone ringtone chiming through the somewhat quiet room. She lets out a small breath.

“One moment.”

She picks up the phone.

“Hello?” she listens for a moment, expression concerned, “No no, he’s here. Safe and sound. Yes, just one moment.”

She approaches Ricky.

“It’s your mom,” she says carefully, “she wants to talk to you.”

His stomach drops, that cold, sick feeling he’d been running from all weekend coming back full force.

“What do I do?” panic is evident in his voice. Nina looks up, ready to help, and sees him looking at you with pleading eyes. Your hand rests on his arm, tracing small shapes. She leans forward to tell him he should talk to her. She’s his mom, they’re family, and they have to work this out, even if it’s hard.

You reply first.

“Do you want to talk to her?” you ask, quiet and sincere.

“Not really,” he replies.

“Do you want to go home if she’s going to be there?”

“No.” he states quickly.

“Tell her that. Tell her you don’t want to talk right now, and you’ll go back home once she leaves. You have friends you can stay with until then.” he nods, hanging on your every word. “It doesn’t matter that she’s your mother, she did something really shitty, and handled it really shittily,” he lets out a small chuckle. “You’re allowed to set boundaries.” you conclude firmly.

She’s about to interject that that’s horrible advice when Ricky’s hand reaches out for yours, intertwining firmly. You give him an encouraging nod and he takes the phone.

Listening to Ricky tell his mom what you just told him, Nina decides you don’t have anything in common. In fact, she kind of hates you.

Ricky finally finishes speaking, and you can hear his mother’s raised tone from the phone. She’s still going.

“Hang up.” you breathe.

He realizes you’re right. He said what he needed to say, he shouldn’t have to listen to her talk about changing his diapers and taking care of him when he was sick. He shouldn’t have to be guilt tripped like this. He stares at the phone for a second.

Call ended.

He hands the phone back to Miss Jenn, a new found, liberating feeling beginning to course through him. He feels fucking fantastic.

A few minutes later, rehearsal starts, beginning with the Gabriella and Taylor scene. Ricky marvels at the amount of mental space he has to focus on rehearsal now that that’s finally over.

You have to go on in a minute. Before you do, you lean in to say something quietly to Ricky.

“You can stay at my place as long as you want, no questions asked.”

“Same here,” comes a voice behind him. You turn around to see Big Red, who Miss Jenn just informed of the situation. “My parents love you.” he laughs. You give Ricky’s hand a squeeze, and his heart flutters with a flourish, realizing neither of you have let go yet. The feeling is short lived as you stand up to take your place in the wings.

“Oh, Big Red,” you say, “I have a question about the ladder for bop to the top.” you nod your head, and he walks a few feet away with you.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t actually have a question. I think this weekend we should go with Ricky back to his place to get some of his clothes and stuff so he can stay with us. He shouldn’t have to go alone, he needs moral support.”

Big Red agrees enthusiastically.

“I was just going to let him borrow my old fun run race for the cure tee shirts from the charity runs my family does every summer, but I like that plan better.” You both laugh, and you hold out a fist for him to bump.

“Supporting Ricky squad.” you say.

“Supporting Ricky squad.” he echoes. You leave to get ready for your scene, and Big Red makes his way back over to Ricky.

“Okay,” he says quietly, “Sharpay has my seal of approval.”

Ricky stares ahead, transfixed on you as you skim your script, doing a light warm up before your cue.

“Yeah… she does,” he muses, still engulfed in the memory of your touch, “hey, remind me, I gotta tell you something later. Something important.”

// tag list: @afidiofobia //

#I want to give him things. Like blowjobs and self esteem #hsmtmts ricky #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen #hsmtmts x reader #hsmtmts #ricky bowen smut #rocks at your window