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yandere-daze · 11 months ago

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I´ve had this idea plague my mind for the last few days and now it´s finally time for me to unleash it onto the world. Feel free to comment on or ask questions about this idea/ AU if you find it interesting!

This work was inspired by the normalized yandere genshin AU I stumbled upon while scrolling through Tumblr, created by @fancyfeathers

Hope you enjoy!

gn reader

2,2k words

tw yandere, normalized yandere behaviour, mentions of obsession, possessiveness, kidnapping, stalking, murder, emotional manipulation and isolation

Yandere! Genshin Academy/Normalized Yandere AU

In this AU, yanderes are a normal and accepted part of society. Not only are their toxic attitudes and behaviours permitted but even encouraged. Somehow, over the years, people have even started to wish for a yandere as their partners. By Teyvat society at large, yanderes are seen as somewhat of an ideal partner. They´re fiercely loyal and would do absolutely anything for their darlings, right?

And yet, many darlings sing a different tune when reality suddenly comes crashing down onto them when a yandere actually starts pursuing them. Fantasizing about things such as being kidnapped is simply something entirely different compared to experiencing the real thing. And yet, when they call out for help from their loved ones, they´re simply patted on their back and congratulated. Some might even express their condolences to the poor yandere, saying that it always takes a bit of time for a darling to realize that this is for the best.

You are one of the few people who are completely horrified by the concept of a yandere and even more so to see everyone around you treat kidnappings or murder sprees as something completely normal or even romantic. You shudder at the thought of ever attracting the attention of a yandere, knowing that you would have no one to help you avoid that dreadful fate.

Which is why your complete world is turned upside down when you´ve been registered at the wrong academy by mistake. An administrative error, you were told. One, that might take a few weeks or even months to correct.

Now normally, you would have been annoyed but fine with this. You would just have to bear with it for a bit and attend a different school until the error is fixed and you can finally go to your desired one.

But you felt a pool of dread form deep within you when you did some research on the academy you had been wrongly assigned to. It actually wasn´t all that easy to find information on the academy, which you found strange, seeing as this has never been an issue with any other well-regarded academy. But no matter how much you search, nothing concrete is to be found. Only a few abandoned forum posts where people asked around about their missing friend who had last been seen close to the academy in question.

It made you feel a bit uneasy but you figured that it probably didn´t have anything to do with the academy itself. As sad as it was, disappearances were happening all over Teyvat, so this one case wasn´t really of note.

But seeing as you couldn´t find anything else, you figured that you would just need to figure things out on your first day attending the academy.

And oh, were you in for a nasty surprise.

As soon as you sat down for your first lesson, you noticed how strange the atmosphere was. Everyone had been staring at you so strangely when you entered the room, it kind of unnerved you.

After that, a few introductions were exchanged and you slowly calmed down again. Your classmates seemed nice enough and you thought that maybe, your time here wouldn´t be so bad after all.

All that quickly changed when your professor finally entered the room and introduced himself as the instructor who would teach you the subject of "stalking".

Turning your head left and right, you tried to see if anyone else was as shocked about this as you were but to your surprise, no one even raised an eyebrow at this very concerning introduction.

A class on stalking? Maybe this wasn´t what you actually feared and more so a clumsy way of saying that this would be a psychology class focusing on the mental effects stalking has on the victims? With all these yanderes running around unchecked, there were bound to be many victims and so a class like this might actually be beneficiary. I mean surely they wouldn´t actually try to teach young adults how to kidnap someone, right?

Right?

Well, it turns out you were wrong when the professor started outlining different forms of stalking. Following "your darling" around, stalking them online, placing cameras or microphones in their rooms to observe them anytime you wanted.

Your mind was spiraling as you listened to the lecture and you briefly wondered at just what kind of an academy you had been enlisted in. Surely this must be some kind of joke, right? A prank played on newcomers at the academy to get them spooked? Surely someone is going to come in any moment, clear all of this up and then laugh at you actually falling for this?

But no matter how much you hoped for this to be the case, no one was coming. No one was making fun of you for falling for such an obvious prank. In fact, none of your classmates seemed perturbed at all by what was being taught here. How could they be okay with a lesson that basically amounted to "how to stalk someone 101"? You felt like you were losing your mind.

Glancing to your right, you see your blond deskmate eagerly nodding along to whatever the professor was saying and swiftly taking notes whenever a sentence seemed to particularly strike a chord with him. His red eyes practically sparkled as he outlined "helpful tips and tricks for not alerting your darling of your presence" on his paper, using a text marker to highlight a particular passage as if to say that it would come in handy in the future.

On your left, you saw another tall male student and for a moment you hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was someone else here who was bothered by the lecture given. He had a bored look on his face and he was wearing some type of headphones over his grey hair. Was he even paying attention? Maybe he was trying to cancel out the horrific lecture taking place at the moment.

You discreetly leaned over a bit, only to see that he was actually holding a book hidden under the desk, his eyes carefully following the paragraphs of tiny letters. Well, it seems like he certainly wasn´t paying much attention to the lecture because what he was secretly reading seemed to be some advanced material on the success rate of different methods of stalking, from the looks of it.

You quickly turned your head back when you saw him glancing over at you with an unreadable stare. Well, it looks like your hopes were dashed again after all. This guy was nuts too.

Knowing this, you really couldn´t do much aside from waiting for class to be over.

Your small hope that this was just a really strange outlier was quickly destroyed again in your following classes.

Next was a class on emotional manipulation and how to get your darling to depend on you.

Then, a class on how to force yourself into your darling´s life and how to approach growing closer to them.

Finally, the day ended with a lecture on how to kidnap your darling and make them disappear without a trace.

As the bell finally rung, the professor informed your class that there was also an optional class about how to effectively "get rid" of a rival that you can sign up for. You pretended to not be bothered when several students raised their hands to show their interest in attending this course.

You scrambled to get out of your seat as fast as possible, not wanting to stay in this hellish classroom for even a second later. You fled into the hallway and walk by groups of students excitedly chattering about things you didn´t want to listen to.

"Oh, I hope I can find my darling soon! I just know I´ll feel a special connection when we first make eye contact! I´ve been waiting for so long", the first girl swooned as she twirled strands of her long brown hair around her finger, seemingly lost in her own fantasies.

"Agreed. I know that once I meet my darling, I won´t let anything get between us. I will never let them go. It´s only a matter of time", the taller, blue-haired woman chimed in, her voice calmer than that of her excitable friend.

You didn´t like the way her eyes linger on you as you pass by them.

Once home, you tried to make contact with the administrative office again to ask them if the process of your transfer can be sped up in any way. You didn´t want to spend another second in that academy.

With what you have seen today, you were easily able to deduce the true nature of this academy and it left you absolutely terrified.

The fact that you weren´t able to find any information about the academy beforehand, your strange classmates fixated on their potential "darlings" and of course the horrid classes being taught there.

Somehow, you have ended up in an academy for yanderes. Every single person you saw there today was a lovesick lunatic in some shape or form. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were in huge danger there. What would your crazed classmates do if they ever found out that you actually weren´t a fellow yandere but someone they could claim as a "darling"? The very thought of it makes you sick. You have to get out of there immediately!

Which is why your heart dropped when after some long hesitation, the person on the phone finally answered you.

"You must excuse me but I´m afraid to tell you that there have been some... unforeseen circumstances that do not permit me to work on your case at the moment. I have been asked to postpone this matter until further notice".

"What? Why?", is all you could manage to say in your befuddlement. You knew bureaucracy can take a long time but for this woman to specifically be asked to postpone this? Just what was going on here?

Again, the woman on the phone hesitated to answer and you could hear a tinge of nervousness in her voice when she finally spoke up. As if she wasn´t sure if she was allowed to say what she was about to.

"I´m afraid that I´m not at liberty to provide this information. The person asking me to...focus on different cases for the meantime wished to stay anonymous. Even so, it is not within my power to refuse their wishes as they have provided our establishment with a generous donation. I sadly cannot help you with this issue", at least the woman did sound generally apologetic but that didn´t really help you in this situation.

Your mind was still reeling as you processed this information. Someone specifically asked for your transferal to not be worked on? Why would anyone do this? And they seemed to have a large fortune too? Why all this to make you stay around?

It can´t be that you already attracted someone´s attention while at the academy, right? Surely that couldn´t be true! You made sure to not interact with anyone directly after you realized just what kind of people attended this school. How could one of these yanderes have "fallen for you" already?

It seemed so utterly unbelievable and if you were being honest, you didn´t want to believe that it was true either. But nothing else made sense. Why would anyone do this otherwise?

Noticing your prolonged silence, the woman spoke up once more.

"I´m sure that all of this will be resolved soon. It will only be a few months. I am sure you will find many friends at your current school soon."

You sure hoped not. The thought of being noticed by any of the yanderes already made the hairs on your neck rise. You vowed to stay away from anyone who even showed a fleeting interest in you. You had to keep yourself safe until you can finally switch schools. You could do this, you had to!

You barely registered when the woman bid you farewell and hung up the phone after you once again didn´t answer her.

Now completely alone, you forged a plan. If you didn´t want to get involved in anything dangerous, no one could find out that you were actually here by mistake and not a yandere. Nothing could be worse than these lunatics finding out that you´re a darling, so you´ll have to be very careful. But how do you do this?

Well, it seemed like you must act like a yandere yourself. You would have to pretend that you´re a lovesick fool who totally isn´t bothered by all this talk about kidnapping, stalking, and murder. Thinking about it again already made you sick but you didn´t really have any other options. No one could find out or it was over for you.

You only hoped that you could convincingly play the part and that no one was perceptive enough to see right through you. Well, it couldn´t be that hard, right?

Surely no one already had their eye on you. Right?

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nerdykorgi · 10 months ago

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GRIMWALKER BIOLOGY & ANATOMY STUDIES [pt 1 / ?? ]

(aka, my ideas and thoughts on how these bad but sad boys work!)

with pictures :D !

ok for starters! I tried my best to make real life connections with actual biological stuff and yeah but there are some things ima have to bullshit lol

i hope yall like rambling

[ ^ Basic ideas ]

Lets talk about anatomy!

From what i can tell from the grim walker ingredient book they have some pretty ... interesting ingredients...

GALDORSTONE:

Heart and Power apparently. What i can make of this is that the Galderstone not only powers and animates the non-organic materials but acts as a circulatory system, flowing blood and nutrients to keep the body stable by creating magical pulses of pressure that makes the blood flow. Blood is kind of ideal for homeostasis and living and om pretty sure we've seen hunter bleed at least once... Perhaps the Galderston can create an artificial vascular system to carry oxygen, magic, and nutrients throughout the growing body instead of just making veins from scratch. I want to say the Galderstone can generate energy for the grimwalker but that would mean they wouldn't need to eat, and I don't think that's true. I think its main purpose is just activate the magic materials and is like the generator to a car, keeping it running. If the Galderstone were to break or fail, the grimwalker probably come unglued and fall apart to its components (which would be pretty horrifying)

ORTET BONE:

Very key component! The ortet bone kind of helps form the blueprint for the species of the grimwalker, as well as supplying blood, a skeletal system, and components of DNA. The most basic definition of the word ORTET is as follows: the original plant from which the members of a clone have descended. Fun fact: since were using cloning terms, Hunter is to Caleb as Ramet is to Ortet (Ramet is an individual clone) I did research for cloning and as it turns out you kinda need a complete genome for cloning but for bullshitting reasons (which will be explained) we can clone with incomplete DNA and make synthetic dna from scratch! I hypothesis that the reason grims can look different from the ortet instead of just straight carbon copies is due to the bone that is used and how much of i there is. Like example a grimwalker made using just a toe phalange is going to look A LOT less like the ortet compared to a grimwalker made from something like the cranium and bigger bones and such. Basically smaller bones dont carry as much dna info and leads for room to fill in the blanks. Sadly this means alot of Grimwalkers had A LOT of health problems (this can range anywhere from immune system problems to liver failure which is quiet typical in clones, that and it is often that clones appear different from the ortet due to enviromental factors and influences)

[ As the image above shows, subject #103 has a very close resemblance to the ortet due to the bones that are used ] There are pros and cons to using bones! Pros being that they can hold DNA for much longer than tissue, but the thing is bones can degrade really easy if not preserved, and i don't think belos had a bottle of hydrogen peroxide laying around that he could dunk Caleb in, so let's just assume he made sure his brother's corpse was well cleaned and kept. Biggest con is the human body only has so many bones (about 206) I believe that the reason Grimwalker can generate organs is by using the ortet and making the stem cells created from bone marrow. Stem cells are very important because they can turn into different types of cells like blood and tissue cells as well as repair tissue. I believe the process of growing grimwalkers is kind of like "Self-renewal" the process in which stem cells divide and make more of the body

STONESLEEPER LUNGS:

Im just gonna assume stone sleeper had very small lungs because aint no way those t rex lungs fit in a teenage boy. I originally thought The reason that Grimwalkers can stay underground for so long is because the lungs, similar to how a stonesleeper hibernates for centuries (kind of like how wood frogs can basically cryo-hibernate) by petrifying but a grimwalker IS growing and therefore needs resources to grow, like how a baby does in the womb. So it has to be actively getting said resources so it cant be petrified. I now think the reason that grimwalkers have these lungs is because theyre easily compatible to the galderstone, which needs oxygen for the blood and that they can be easily harvested and stored in stone form. But that does give room for cool adaptations like self-petrification! (which i will get into next time :D )

PALISTROM WOOD:

Ok its says that the wood is used for keratin, which is a fiberous protein which can make all kinds of things like scales, hair, nails, feathers, horns, claws, hooves, and skin! And since its also a plant means it can grow 4 times as fast as normal keratin can! This explains why hunters hair grew so ridiculously fast in season 3, was because his hair can produce its own carbohydrates and nutrients on its own... This means his skin and surface wounds can heal quite fast! (down side is it might give him something similar to PSS (Peeling Skin Syndrome ) ...) I think Palisman is very important becasue of several reason! 1 Like palisman, it can "animate" if you will, more or less help pull off the illusion that he is alive. 2 Like mentioned before, Grimwalkers need nutrients to grow and I believe the palistrom wood aids in that! Using a process called cellular diffusion, the grimwalker can take in nutrients from the ground around them (which i theorize to be highly fertilized) through THEIR SKIN! and into the veins and flesh of the grims 3 I believe that in the process of forming, the galderstone "activates" the palistrom wood, forming into skin or hair but this process of rapid growth leaves the skin all undone and fragile because a proper cutaneous barrier was not formed yet (which is useful for being malleable. This is why Hunter's ears are so 1 .god blessed big because they are fake and molded to look like that. Its also why The grimwalker Belos possessed fell apart so easily, like he said "It wasnt ready")

SELKIEDOMUS SCALES:

This one kind of confused me because... well why do we need the seal flesh when the ortet can just regenerate it?? I think its kind of like the stuffing if you will, it also speeds up the process of producing flesh by a lot! Especially if you want to make grown grimwalkers! Im thinking that Grimwalkers don't have a set "age" theyre just as big as however many materials they are given to work with. Even though the book says they can start as babies, if you look closely there is a check mark towards the more adolescent figure, so im thinking that they are not ready to be unearthed until they reach a certain growth ima guess around the age of over 10-ish?? We don't know how young Hunter was pulled out of the floor but it seems like he was fairly young, or atleast younger. This means while Hunter appears to be 16, he might have only been living for around 5 years or so.

Now typically normal seals have a lot of blubber which is a thick layer of fat, also called adipose tissue, directly under the skin of a marine mammals. Its used for insulation. The thing is tho, it says Selkiedomus Scales, not flesh... Dont worry there are mammals that have scales like Pangolins but i dont know if these scales are like thick plated or small and stretchy. Magic bullshitting time, Im goin to assume Selkiedomus scales refers to a layer of scale-like flesh that protect the creature from boiling but is also highly malleable and easy to work with. Maybe the reason they can withstand such heat is due to unsaturated bonds of butadiene molecules mixed into the blubber that are highly heat resistant Selkie domus flesh is molded and into the relative shape of desired body and using the DNA of the ortet the flesh is reshaped and reused into the desired muscles shapes. The vascular system created by the galderstone spreads throughout the flesh and binds with it. healing together and becoming flesh, kind of like a speed up version of skin graft maturation! This is useful for growing them quickly because they don't have to grow an entire adult body from scratch so this speed up the process by eeeerrm 20 years or so lol

Thats only the basics for now, sooner or later i shall get into the more fun stuff, like adaptaions of Grim walker, the growing process, ad more!

Hope you guys enjoyed my ideas, if i got anything incorrect let me know, my research isnt exremly searched through.

last question ill leave you all with, it kind of stumped me while i was working...

i have a theory but i wanna know your thoughts...

(i worked hard on all this btw, i really hope people read it lol /lh.)

#the owl house #toh #toh hunter #hunter toh #caleb wittebane #philip wittebane #emperor belos #grimwalker #golden guard #how tf do you draw a nipple #ima gonna sleep now...

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valeriianz · 5 months ago

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Summary: Part 2 of my Hard of Hearing!Dream. Part 1 here! Dream struggles with his new disability and Hob tries to help... along with Dream's new friend, Jessamy.

Square/Prompt: A1 - Why Did You Do It?

Rating: T

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: human AU, deaf!Dream, angst, happy ending, established relationship

Fill for @dreamlingbingo! (thank you @mallory-x for the read through!)

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When Dream turned 30, he celebrated it in a crowded bar that doubled as an art gallery, close to his apartment. It was his favorite bar, because it was an eclectic gallery first, with a bar open for events. Luckily, there was a local exhibit on the night of Dream’s birthday and he knew it would be the perfect place to celebrate. This way, he could appease his friends who wanted to go out and drink and celebrate, and Dream could stare at art and make a quick escape if need be. It gave a chance for everyone to focus on anything else but him after the initial round of shots.

Hob never took his focus off Dream, though. Even when they would float away to opposite sides of the room, Dream would turn his head and find Hob staring at him, smiling at being caught before turning his attention back to the person he was in conversation with.

At that point, it had been two and a half years since Dream had told Hob about his diagnosis… that he would go permanently deaf. In that time, he did indeed completely lose his hearing in his left ear, but his right was still working pretty well. He had just gotten used to tilting his head slightly to the left so people would understand to talk directly into his good ear.

And Hob was still here. Patient, sweet, loving Hob. Who Dream secretly had a crush on probably since they were first introduced. They’d moved in together last year, and while there were some bumps in the road, complications that arose with moving in with a lover, Dream was surprised to find that he was… happy.

He couldn’t stand it, sometimes, how happy Hob made him. Even his friends had noticed how he smiled more, seemed to have a more positive outlook on life and even on his disability. And it felt natural, like Hob just brought out all the good traits about Dream, like they had been lying dormant and just needed the confidence, the reassurance that he was allowed to feel this way. This happy.

And then, 45 days after Dream’s birthday party, he woke up to Hob shaking him awake, because he was sleeping through his alarm that was apparently blasting through his phone.

But Dream couldn’t hear him. Or the alarm.

He watched with horrifying realization, as Hob’s lips moved, hovering over him, but no words came out.

So much for five years.

Hob had clocked Dream’s blank stare relatively quick, his lips shaping the letters of Dream’s name with a hand on his face, Hob’s brows pinched up and–

Dream cried.

He felt foolish for it. He knew this would happen eventually. He just thought he’d have more time.

Dream speaks with his audiologist the next day, with Hob by his side. Dream had wondered about hearing aids while he still had a modicum of hearing, but had been hesitant. His insurance barely covered them and, while hearing aids may have helped in the past, after several tests, his audiologist confirmed with Dream that now, they wouldn’t even be able to pick up background noise. They wouldn’t help at all.

Dream and Hob had left the office with defeat hanging heavy in the air. Mostly from Dream.

He’s not proud of the person he had been in the week following his permanent hearing loss.

But in time (and therapy), Dream was able to move on. And it really wasn’t so bad, once Dream accepted that this was his life now.

If he closes his eyes, he thinks he can still hear Hob’s voice, especially with his lips pressed against his throat, behind his ear, murmuring sweetness into his skin and sending vibrations into his skull. It’s one of the most calming things Dream has ever experienced; laying in bed with Hob, in the absolute darkness and absolute silence, his remaining senses heightened, it’s both relaxing and unexpectedly erotic. To feel Hob completely surrounding him, grounding Dream, warm and solid and safe, it lights Dream up from the inside and reassures him that everything would be okay.

And in time, Dream comes to appreciate the silence. It’s nice, it’s peaceful. Living in a large city, with constant chatter, cars honking and sirens blazing, used to be a sensory nightmare; that creeping, prickling feeling of overstimulation has vanished and now it’s just… nothingness.

It was scary at first, Dream would be a fool to not admit it; watching the world continue around him, people living their lives, living his own life, all in absolute silence. Not being able to hear the beep of the microwave, indicating when his food was done, or water coming out of the faucet while he washed dishes, or the sizzle of oil in a pan while cooking… little things that Dream had never really perceived whilst hearing them every day. All of that sound just– gone. Like hitting the mute button on a movie.

Dream tries to convince himself that he doesn’t miss the mundane noises, he could barely hear them anyway… but he often feels lost without them. So learning to welcome the quiet was the only way Dream could stay sane.

Though going deaf after decades of being able to hear (albeit poorly) and speak gave Dream the advantage of continuing to communicate in spoken English. He still has an inner voice, can still read lips very well, and so the communication gap with his friends and even strangers isn’t as wide as Dream had feared.

It makes learning sign language difficult. Dream at first did not take the lessons very seriously, especially with Hob being the only person to practice with, in those early days. Hob did help, though; he fumbles and signs broken ASL and Dream fumbles back. But it had been so easy to fall back on the habit of using his voice. But as months turn into a full year, Dream learns by trial and error that he realistically can’t continue traversing through a hearing world without sign language.

The hardest challenge he’d run into, for example… Dream never thought he’d need to prove his deafness.

Of course people get confused when he can speak perfect English, out in public spaces like a cafe or a bookshop, only to then turn around and seemingly ignore everyone around him. It is a strange experience, for Dream, to go around communicating as usual, speaking when he can’t even hear his own voice and reading lips. But he can’t be constantly on the lookout for anybody trying to get his attention. Watching belatedly as someone he had been exchanging dialogue with, roll their eyes and walk away in a huff. Dream truthfully has no idea how he might come off to a complete stranger who can’t realize that he’s deaf. Rude, perhaps. Or uncaring.

It’s enough to convince Dream to get fake hearing aids… he feels ridiculous wearing them, like he’s giving in to a social construct that only exists in his own head. But, annoyingly, while wearing them, the way people communicate and treat him improves exponentially.

Funny, that.

Hob, of course, notices.

“When did you get these?” He touches the little device in Dream’s ear, his fingers turning into a caress. “I thought aids didn’t work for you?”

Hob speaks while he signs, they both do, to help make the hand motions stick. Though Hob often slips up and signs exact English, not proper American Sign Language, which he’s doing now. It doesn’t help in the learning process, but it’s a start, and Dream has no leg to stand on when it comes to corrections.

Dream swipes his index finger across his nose.

“Fake.”

Dream offers no more explanation, turning a page in the book he’s reading. They’re sitting on the couch, Hob properly facing the TV, and Dream lounging sideways, his legs draped over Hob’s lap.

Hob taps the edge of Dream’s book, getting his attention once more.

“You’d rather put a sign on you that announces to the world you're deaf?”

Dream sighs, knocking his head back.

“I know I shouldn’t have to…” Dream starts, his fingers fumbling, a new sign of nervousness he never thought he’d had before. “But it might make things easier.”

“Things?” Hob finger spells, his hands coming down, palms up, in a sign of confusion.

Dream moves a hand to his mouth.

“Communication,” and then to his ear, “understanding.”

Hob’s brows furrow and Dream slowly looks back to his book.

Dream wonders if they’re thinking the same thing. Remembering how difficult it became, living together, after Dream lost his hearing permanently. Hob would forget that Dream couldn’t hear, which was frustrating enough, but the slip-ups were near constant in the beginning.

They’d get into arguments over it, a flame that Dream wasn’t proud to admit he’d always fanned. He hated that his hackles were constantly rising, always on the offensive, like Dream was expecting Hob to take the bait and fight back. That would, of course, spiral into meaningless fights over something stupid like leaving the laundry in the dryer for too long, or forgetting to pick up a particular ingredient they needed for dinner at the grocery store.

Dream was ashamed to admit he didn’t help in the situations, often coping out by just– not looking at Hob so he couldn’t see his lips moving or his awkward signing. He’d turn around and stomp away and Hob would be left to chase after him, hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around so they could communicate.

It got easier… Hob was so patient with Dream. He never got so angry he would give up. He always apologized, even when Dream was just being dramatic.

Hob knows by now that Dream would never take the easy route. And sure enough, Dream ditches the fake hearing aids. With them on, people started treating him with gloves on, or stare at him nervously, wondering how to approach. It’s frustrating and annoying– how Dream can’t seem to find a middle ground.

It takes unloading to his new deaf friends about Hob; seeking advice for how to temper these unexpected feelings of disappointment and changes in Dream himself… they never used to fight, before Dream lost his hearing. This is unknown territory for the both of them.

Dream had discovered the community in his city, for deaf people. He’d found a meetup online, after his therapist suggested looking into attending the weekly meetups.

As always, Dream was at first skeptical. His sign language was still spotty at best, and he wasn’t a social guy even when he could hear so. He wasn’t hopeful.

Luckily the deaf community in his city is more than accepting of him, patient when he slips and signs exact English. And when Dream is done airing out his grievances, they encourage patience with Hob. That having a hearing partner is always going to be a struggle, but Hob is clearly coming from a place of compassion and wants to learn. That’s more than can be said for most people.

Dream feels foolish, all the sudden, for his actions against Hob, looking sideways at Jessamy. She was one of the founders of these d/Deaf meetings, and they clicked immediately. Unlike most of their peers in the group, she too had been born hearing and then lost it due to illness. Her and Dream were a lot alike, though she was older and had been wading through this new world for over two decades. She was fluent in ASL, and didn’t even speak while communicating.

“It’s considered rude to speak here, during these meetups,” she had explained during Dream’s first time with the group.

Jessamy becomes something like a confidant for Dream. She too has a hearing partner, Matthew. The amount she and Dream have in common is almost frightening. But in time Dream discovers it’s nice… to be seen. To be understood. She helps Dream comprehend the beauty of the silence even more. And that they can still attend hearing events just as before.

So with her encouragement, a few months down the line, Dream and Hob join her and Matthew at a music festival. Jessamy excitedly points out interpreters several of the bands have on stage, and Dream feels a bit of relief. He can also feel the vibrations all around him from the loud speakers, though it’s not as pronounced as they would be in a venue with wooden floors; the earth beneath their feet grounds the pulsating bass lines to something dull and unrecognizable.

Dream’s not quite fluent enough in ASL to understand every word the interpreters use, especially at the speed they’re going in to keep up with the song, but he gets the gist. And he has to admit it’s… fun, doing this. He hadn’t been to a concert or music festival in almost five years, and spending it with both Hob and his new friends is nice. It’s easy to stay within their safe space and not feel pressured to speak with strangers or awkwardly ignore them; everyone here minds their own business and in time, Dream loosens up.

After finding available, good seats for the next band they’d all agreed on, Hob and Dream set out to the nearest vendor to grab drinks and snacks for the four of them, while Jessamy and Matthew hold down the fort, so to speak.

While standing in line, Hob asks if Dream is enjoying himself. And, surprisingly, Dream is. He says as much with a smile and taking a playful nudge from Hob.

As the line shrinks and they come closer to the counter, Dream’s gaze moves from the short menu taped to the window to the man taking orders. His lips move sluggishly and hesitantly, speaking with an accent that makes it difficult for Dream to parse. But it doesn’t phase him, what everyone wants is on the menu and the transaction should be simple.

Now, Hob could just place the order for him– for all of them, but Dream had been determined, lately, to converse in transactions like this himself. It was good practice not only for Dream, but also whoever was taking his order as well. To learn patience and practice his communication skills. It was a little nerve wracking, but for the most part it was easy. If a cashier or barista or medical professional had trouble exchanging words with Dream, well, that’s what he carried a pen and pocketbook around for.

The person in front of them moves to the pickup counter and Dream sees the man behind the counter call out what must be a, “Next!” but the way his lips move, it looks more like, “Nect!”

Dream swallows and signs as he speaks, to– hopefully– indicate how this would potentially be a one-sided conversation.

“Two orders of fries, one mac and cheese, three shots of Bacardi, one shot of vodka, and a lemonade, please.”

The man barely looks at Dream while he types the order into an iPad. Dream nods, mostly to himself, and looks down as he reaches into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

When he looks back up, the man is in the middle of saying something to him.

Dream’s brows wrinkle.

“Can you repeat that? I can’t hear you.”

After he speaks and signs, Dream offers up his card, assuming the man just told him the total.

But the man visibly sighs and leans forward a bit, his mouth opening widely.

Dream focuses but only manages to make out the words “fries,” “double,” and “which do you want?”

“Um…” Dream licks his bottom lip. “One more time? Slowly, please.”

With a truly agitated face now, the man moves his lips again, but as Dream studies them, hoping to fill in the words he missed, instead new words are added and Dream finds himself stumped.

“Fries, yes. And singles, for the shots,” he guesses.

The man types something into his iPad but looks again at Dream with a growing look of irritation in his gaze. Dream looks behind him and sees a line of customers, before facing the man again, once again catching him in mid speech.

“Hold on,” Dream grumbles, settling the card down and digging through his pocket for the pen and paper. “Clearly I am deaf and raising your voice is not helping–”

Dream nearly jumps as Hob steps up suddenly to the counter, almost getting in front of Dream.

They exchange a few words before finally Hob nods and hands the guy his own card.

Dream stands silent, his pocket notebook in his hand and blinking slowly at Hob, who gives him a sheepish smile over his shoulder before nodding again to the man and taking both their cards back as well as the receipt.

They walk to the pickup counter without exchanging a word, meanwhile something begins to burn the back of Dream’s neck, prickling down his arms and coiling in his stomach.

Dream tugs on Hob’s arm as they settle next to the mobile vendor.

“What just happened?” He doesn’t speak. Dream can’t find his voice right now.

Hob rubs the back of his neck, his gaze focused on something behind Dream.

“No french fries,” he signs without confidence. “Curly fries only.”

Dream blinks. The uncomfortable feeling in his gut tightening.

“Did you just order for me?”

Hob’s shoulders deflate, nodding.

Dream gapes like a fish for a few seconds, his eyes darting from Hob to the man that just took their order, and back.

“I don’t want curly fries. I hate curly fries. We could have gone to another vendor. You didn’t have to–”

Dream cuts himself off, balling his hands into fists and taking a long breath, closing his eyes, shaking his head.

Hob always did this.

It took a while for Dream to notice, how if they were together, Hob would finish a conversation for Dream. Would speed an uncomfortable situation along with an interjection or provide unnecessary context with a stranger “He’s deaf, sorry…” without consenting with Dream first.

When Dream realized Hob was doing this, he would go quiet, unsure whether or not to stop him or correct him in some way. Dream never knew exactly what to say. Did Hob think Dream was incapable of handling tricky conversations himself? Did he think Dream was a hassle?

When Dream opens his eyes Hob’s hands are out, placating, his eyes apologetic.

“Why do you do that?”

Hob blinks. “What?”

Dream’s heart rate is steadily rising, his fingers shaking slightly.

“Make my decisions for me.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” Hob starts, his own signing gone fumbly. “I thought I was helping.”

“Yes. That’s the problem…” Dream starts, finally speaking again and letting his hands fall to his sides, his brain struggling to interpret correctly.

“What do you mean?” Hob asks.

“You don’t need to rush me out of an uncomfortable situation,” Dream starts again, his hands gesticulating uselessly. “If I’m communicating with someone whom I can’t understand, we can figure it out. They will learn. They need to learn.”

Judging by the way Hob is nervously looking around, Dream’s volume is surely rising. But he finds he doesn’t care.

“I’m not this thing you need to handle with gloves. Let me see a problem through until the end. No matter how long it takes.”

Dream is breathing heavily, he realizes, sucking in a gulp of air.

“Of course not.” Hob finally speaks, forgetting to sign. “I'm sorry.”

Hob’s eyes are welling up with tears and it somehow makes Dream more agitated, more words stumbling from his mouth without his permission.

“Then stop treating me like a burden!”

Dream turns and walks away.

It’s foolish, and childish. And as Dream stomps away, his own vision becoming blurred with tears, he knows it’s not just this moment that’s made him snap. It’s the culmination of events from the past year of being fully disabled. He hates that he can’t hear. He hates this adjustment period. He wishes he’d been born deaf so at least this hurdle, this life change wouldn’t feel so mountainous.

Dream wipes his eyes shamefully as his pace picks up to a run, pushing past people blindly. Regret screams in his bones with every step he makes, with every inch he puts between Hob and him. His chest aches with the urge to turn around and apologize, but he shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t!

Dream’s shoes clumsily connect with the dirt underneath him, his face becoming hot and, as he rounds the corner of an unoccupied stall, Dream collapses to the ground and allows the tears he’d been fighting back to fall freely, a sob choking in his throat.

He grips his hair as he cries, his face stuck between his knees. The past year flashes before Dream’s eyes, all of the hardships, the doctors’ visits, the fights with Hob. He didn’t deserve Dream. All of his kindness and patience and for what? For Dream to snap on a dime and expect too much out of him all at once?

Dream groans loudly, agitated at himself for seeing the problem; him, and unsure how to change. He knows he has a right to his feelings, but communicating them was so difficult. He’s becoming impatient with himself, with his slow learning curve, with Hob’s complacency to stay in their safe little bubble and treat Dream like this breakable thing.

Dream couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but his sobs had stifled down to sniffles, and by the time he felt a hand gently land on his shoulder, Dream was doodling shapes in the dirt.

His head snaps up and finds Jessamy staring back at him, her brows creased in worry.

“Hey…” She’s bent over, her hair falling in her face. “What’s wrong?”

Dream ducks his head, shaking it, officially feeling foolish for running away. The regret he’d felt for leaving Hob starts up again and he suddenly feels so scared. At this rate, Hob would break up with him. Surely he was getting sick of Dream’s dramatics, him lashing out.

“Hob and I never fought…” Dream starts, his hands moving sluggishly. “... when I was hearing.”

Jessamy plops on the ground in front of Dream.

“It’s me,” Dream continues. “I’ve become so… sensitive, since going deaf. I feel like, sometimes, Hob treats me like a child. Like he wants to wrap me in bubble wrap. It’s so infuriating– I’m not some helpless thing that can’t figure things out!”

“No, you’re not…” Jessamy starts, reaching a hand out and giving Dream’s knee a shake.

“It is OK to feel like this. You’ve only been deaf for a year…” her brows come up encouragingly. “The transition is tough, but it will get easier, in time.”

Dream nods solemnly, tracing lines in the dirt again. Jessamy waves her hand to get his attention once more.

“And you’re not alone, you know.” She smiles gently. “You got me and Matty–” she huffs a laugh at the look Dream gives her. “... and the entire gang to support you.”

Dream knew she meant everyone at their d/Deaf meetups and offered her a small smile. She’s right, of course. Despite how withdrawn and antisocial Dream had been in the beginning, even now still creeping out of his shell, the people he’d surrounded himself with had been nothing but kind and accepting and willing to listen and connect in ways Dream hadn’t thought possible.

“Hob is still around, too,” Jessamy interrupts his thoughts, her brows lifting knowingly. “That man loves you so much; you should see the way he looks at you– it’s disgusting.”

Dream manages to crack a real, genuine smile at that, especially with the way Jessamy is fluttering her eyelashes and putting on a spot-on impression of Hob’s puppy dog eyes.

He pulls a hand through his hair and looks down again. Images of Hob’s easy smile flashing behind his eyes, his hands caressing Dream’s skin, his strong arms lifting him in a hug, his sweet lips tracing the lines of his jaw and ear, murmuring sweetness that Dream could no longer hear but feel instead. Could plainly see Hob’s devotion and affection in their everyday lives together, how he would always start the coffee in the mornings so Dream would wake up to the smell of it. How Hob would leave the hallway light on during the day so Dream would come home– late from work– and have something to see by. How he always offered to help with dinner prep, chopping veggies or stirring something, often using the excuse to crowd Dream against the counter and kiss Dream silly.

“That man would pull the moon down for you, I hope you know.”

He would, Dream realizes, swallowing thickly. And he would do the same for Hob.

Dream nods, wringing his fingers out as Jessamy continues on.

“Remember, this is a learning experience for him, too.”

Her painted nails move with perfect fluency, always slowly for Dream to understand. And as one thumb comes down from her forehead to meet the thumb on her other hand, Dream nods again, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her lips curl sweetly, gaze flicking sideways suddenly.

She nudges her head. “Speak of the devil…”

Dream looks too, and finds Hob approaching them.

He curses to himself, wiping his eyes with more urgency and catching the almost giggle that Jessamy makes.

“I’ll leave you two alone?”

Dream takes a steadying inhale, pushes his shoulders back, and makes a weak fist and nods it back and forth.

Jessamy stands just as Hob steps up to them, his eyes guarded yet hopeful. She makes a sign of texting before stepping around Hob with a clap to his shoulder.

Hob watches Jessamy leave before meeting Dream’s gaze again, but says nothing. His eyes never leave Dream as he crouches down and takes a seat next to him, leaning back against the wall.

Dream stares back, studying the lines of Hob’s face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, which are shiny and puffy, like he’d been sobbing, too.

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispers, pushing a fist into his chest.

Hob sighs, his shoulders going with it. He speaks as he signs.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Dream shakes his head. “You’re always the one apologizing for my outbursts–”

“But you were right,” Hob interjects, his eyes pleading. “Dream, can I say something?”

Dream’s heart leaps into his throat, swallowing harshly. He nods.

“You need to tell me…” Hob’s gaze shoots up to the sky, as if searching for the words for his hands to convert. “... the first time, when I do something that makes you uncomfortable. So I can remedy it immediately.”

Dream takes a deep breath as Hob continues, his hands moving slowly but surely.

“Don’t let bad things fester and build. Talk to me.” His hand comes to his mouth in a motion similar to how Dream explained on the couch months ago. “Communicate. If you don’t correct me in the moment, I’m bound to repeat it.”

He takes Dream’s hands, his thumbs tracing circles over the knuckles.

“I want…” Hob awkwardly makes the simple motions with his hand still clasped with Dream’s, making him bite back a smile. “... to do this right.”

Dream takes another breath that rattles, his eyes prickling at the corners.

Hob’s eyes have gone watery, too, his smile lopsided.

“OK?”

Dream nods. “OK.”

Hob rises up on his knees just as Dream does, falling into each other. Dream squeezes his arms around Hob’s shoulders, tucking his nose into Hob’s hair and breathing in the scent of him, letting it envelop him and calm him.

Hob’s lips brush the skin behind Dream’s ear, pressing a kiss there, before he feels them move.

I love you.

#dreamling #dream/hob #dreamling bingo 2024 #sidenote: yes this is an american AU #because i know ASL and not BSL #yes im that simple lol #hoo! i made it!#my first fill letsagooo #this one kicked my ass sheesh #my writing

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cloverpatches · 9 months ago

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-- LOBOTOMY CORP ABNORMALITY CREATION GUIDE --

Hello Hello! Welcome to Niel's LobCorp Abno Explanation and Creation Guide!

When making an OC Abnormality, there are a couple specific ranges that are immensely important: Breaching Damage Output and Risk Level. While all breach kills or immense damages should be talked out first or at least notified, damage output with Abnormality presences alone and collateral lead to damage type and output being important. Damage type and severity are hard to calculate for those who haven't/can't play, so I'll be specifying amounts below.

To note, on DAMAGE TYPES:

RED is direct damage to the body of an agent. This usually refers to the types of damage that can be done with weapons or the body, and envelops most forms of harm capable by weapons in the City. Despite being common, those who deal Red damage typically have much higher output in sudden bursts and should not be underestimated. (EX. Scorched Girl, All-Around Helper, Nothing There)

WHITE is psychological damage. It attacks the psyche, usually working to petrify or take away the mind of an agent, either on purpose or not. This is usually dealt by Abnormalities that work to convince employees to stay with them or who are particularly horrifying. White Damage can take a physical form by some EGO or Abnormalities in a cloud of white, choking smoke. (EX. Happy Teddy Bear, Child of the Galaxy, Blue Star)

BLACK is supernatural weakening of the mind and body of an employee. Abnormalities with magical attacks, health hazards like slime, mucus or rot, or medical influence that causes infectious harm to those around them. This causes a piercing and increasing pain much like gathering and constricting thorns, and can cut across bodies and weaker EGO like hooked thorns. (EX. Void Dream, Snow White's Apple, The Mountain of Smiling Bodies)

PALE is the most painful and dangerous damage and it directly damages the soul of agents. There are only two Abnormalities in-game whose work deals Pale damage .. and one of those is WhiteNight. In Ruina, this is shown through the status effect Erosion. It's a gradual and near unavoidable death of all who stay around this Abnormality, beyond black's rot and erosion, by enveloping their entire essence in the Abnormality's perspective. It's comparable to having your being shifted and taken away by an external force beyond your soul or body. (EX. Judgement Bird, Servant of Wrath, WhiteNight)

If you don't know damage numbers, it's okay not to use them! Saying "a small amount, a decent amount, a high amount" is more than enough! In roleplay, it's all by estimate anyway.

Now for RISK LEVEL!

ZAYIN:

The second rarest Abnormality type and very highly valued.

These Abnormalities either portray themselves as harmless, or are completely harmless without the direct fault of the Manager's command. They are not prone to breaching without external input and cannot directly lore agents to themselves. When working, they have a low damage output and will cause harm to Agents in other ways, either by entrapment or becoming a part of their presence.

Zayin Abnos, more often than not, have an immensely beneficial effect to the employees that use them or to the facility they're contained in. This can influence stats, EGO, power generation, or regeneration.

Despite this, due to their beneficial nature, Zayin non-item abnormalities are often those who would be the most dangerous should they choose to harm the facility or if the Manager somehow breaks their typical nature to strike their ire against a target.

The death counter of their negative effects will nearly always be 1. TETH:

Any Abnormality classified as Teth instead of Zayin has earned it through their capabilities to cause harm and work types which Will set them off. Many Teth have specific work methods that allow them to stay calm however, and a Manager will be quick to prioritize those or find the consequences.

Most Teth Abnormalities aren't ranked higher due to their ability to be ignored and have predictable consequences with manageable death toll. Should their counter lower, it will either be breach or remain inside, with most having tracable breach patterns and/or will return to their own containment after a set period of time.

More often than not, Teth abnormalities will generally be friendly or try to be beneficial to those they come into contact with, only with a few exceptions. It's their attempt to be friendly, assist or help which causes the damage outside of their intent.

The death counter of their breach or effect in a typical facility will usually be 2 or above. HE:

Abnormalities classified as He have an innate existential drive to harm by default. Whether they have good intents or not, their actions and the effects of their existence can and will harm Agents. This usually comes through the Abnormality thriving and benefiting off the consumption of employees, lowering the counters of nearby Abnormalities, or causing a breach/harmful entity through the utilization of an employee.

The one factor keeping He abnormalities from being Waw is that they require direct interaction to cause harm and oftentimes are on the line of not getting out of hand when breaching.

Helpful He abnormalities will have high assistance with weighable drawbacks. Their use will be very helpful, especially in strained situations, and the use will usually outweigh the cost - no matter how high. Their assistance is measurable and won't get out of hand without the Manager actively allowing it to.

Agents are more likely to be attached to He abnormalities than any other, with the attachment being something often unregulated and beneficial to the abnormalities and agents in a symbiotic relationship.

The most complex Abnormality type. WAW:

The most common Abnormality label.

Best summarized as "You can work on/use this abnormality, but Watch Out!" and because of that, Waw abnormalities are oftentimes very predictable. They will have specific requirements when being worked with or else they'll spread from/during work, or they will breach on their own in direct response to other happenings in the corporation/neglect.

When breaching, they're actively influenced by the actions of the agents and managers to either increase their damage, their numbers, or their attack weight. Their work requirements and counters usually can't be ignored without facing consequences.

Waws that are helpful usually have immense and outweighing drawbacks if they are disrupted in any way, and will be turned against the facility tenfold. They can either instantly kill agents to take them into their own numbers or become an active antagonistic force.

Typically, if an Abnormality isn't very helpful enough to be a He but not harmful enough to be an Aleph, Waw is a loose label that can fit without being questioned. ALEPH:

Aleph are the highest energy output Abnormalities, but that's for a reason. Every work with an Aleph abnormality or every moment spent not working on them could be a day's last before a reset. Work behaviors of either a department and the surrounding ones or the whole facilities need to be changed to accommodate them.

When made, Aleph abnormalities embody the sheer loss of self-percieved humanity witnessed in their creation, leading to the embodiment of a concept far outreaching their individual existence. They are no longer human even in the slightest anymore. Those that hold even traces of human appearance are merely manipulation points used to draw others in, but upon even the slightest freedom, it's shed in the overwhelming collapse of body caused by their concepts.

These entities could destroy the city if they got loose. The Pianist, an entity which destroyed a whole district's backstreets in less than an hour, in a single song's playing, who was able to flood into the backstreets and bring in hundreds upon thousands of bodies into his own performance was a high WAW. He wasn't even an Aleph. A single mid-grade Aleph would be WORSE than The Pianist by a decent margin.

With ABNORMALITY GIFTS:

Abnormality gifts are very simple in comparison to classifications. Despite rank, many low level given gifts can be more useful than higher level gifts, as they scale with the agent rather than with the Abnormality. They embody the wavering and unstable existence of Abnormalities tying into the being of an agent. While some can be physically given, others can be formed through an agent resonating or being influenced by the Abno, quite literally taking a piece of them along.

While gifts can be removed and stored, they immediately become a part of the employee's being as soon as it's gifted as much as a piece of clothing on an Abnormality is a part of them. Agents will nearly never want to take them off or remove them unless forced. Forced removal can occasionally lead to detrimental reactions unless replaced with another.

Agents with 3 gifts or more can be considered closer to Abnormalities than humans. Main Branch agents' gift amounts would be seen as terrifying elsewhere.

High benefit gifts can usually come with consequences, as it's considered forming an agent closer into the image of the Abnormality, along with the mental and physical detriments or advantages that come with it.

Hired AGENTS:

Agents are hired through a simple criteria - reading of trauma. Through information and resources gathered from the Head, Lobotomy Corporation reads across the City to find those who have been negatively changed and transformed through their lives in the City, into trauma. People in the City aren't as likely to be traumatized by things, let alone being affected in the long run due to conditioning and mental/spiritual exhaustion through their loss of humanity and self. This is the sickness of the mind that the corporation was founded to cure. Those who can express a factor of lasting humanity, even a little, are rarer and may be selected to be hired through Hokma's City record searching.

While it provides easier link and influence by EGO into usage without direct corrosion, it's also largely for their use later in the Well. Only those with a specific mental and physical criteria can be made into Abnormalities and even less will. Thus, the hiring range is wider.

Level 5 Agents are equal to Grade 1 Fixers or Colors in combat capability.

Quick FAQ:

Q: Why aren't more Abnormalities human-looking if they represent Humanity? A: This is because of the process which creates them. Humans, half-dead or subdued, are placed into coffins nestled below the corporation, slowly stewed much like mummies in honey but instead with cogito. This slowly disperses their mind and concentrates it into their bare cognitive parts, effectively making what is called a Nameless. All Nameless together create the Well. Their concetrated, raw and City-unburdened perspectives are what allow for the perspective of any Abnormality to be made. Nameless, when selected through Hokma's record process, are injected with enough cogito and a blend of enkephalin to churn and dissolve their body from the inside out, allowing the cogito to shift their body into a shape that the Well percieves them as through the eyes of a representation of a concept. They end up deformed or with terrifying aspects, and those who are somewhat more human looking end up with aspects which show as very, very uncanny. The Well isn't human after all, but they are the very perspective and beating heart of what makes humanity into itself. Those that stay human-looking or who grasp and claw for their original humanity once injected either become failures or that becomes the embodiment of their existence as an Abnormality, such as what happened with Dr. Christopher when he became Nothing There.

Q: What makes an Abnormality containment grade? A: Their use when contained, how easy they are to keep contained, and how catastrophic the breaches can be.

Q: Can my Abnormality deal multiple types of damage? A: Yeah! Many Abnos change damage dealt between containment and when breaching. Some deal more than one- and even some Teths pull some tomfuckery out of nowhere with it. If they've got a knacker for violence, they're considered standard.

Q: What about (Random detail) with Plague Doctor? A: Plague Doctor's an outlier and should never be counted for Anything-

Q: I want to make my Abnormality cool and dangerous, and Teth/He abnormalities aren't much of either.. Should I go with Waw instead? A: Teth and He ARE very cool! They're very dangerous! They can instakill some level 5 agents, breach out of nowhere, or make a whole company panic if you're not careful! Plus, you can make them friendly and people are more likely to work with them. It's a myth that the lower the risk level, the less dangerous the abnormality - but all abnormalities are immensely dangerous and scary when not very prepared for them. Imagine Scorched Girl in a nest- huough.

You got this-! Make your freaky little beasts!

#limbus company #library of ruina #lobotomy corporation #lobcorp #lob corp #lccb #Project moon #project moon guide

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

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Don't Speak 47

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber, Steve Kemp

Note: look, i'm trying to focus.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You run your thumbs over the suede cover, “for me?”

“A new journal, sweetie,” Steve smiles. It’s the first time you’ve been to his office since... well, since Andy. It’s been almost a week since you left. “A fresh start.”

“Oh, uh... it’s so cute,” you admire the embossed dove in the corner.

“Just like you,” he purrs. “It’ll help in the next phase of your treatment.”

You look at him and wince. There’s a shift in his posture, a certain click. He’s Dr. Kemp again, not Steve. Not, as he says when he has his arms around you, your husband. You bite your cheeks and rest the journal on your lap.

“Next phase?”

“Yes, well, you just start using that and we’ll get there. For now, let’s check in. How are you doing? How are you feeling?” He asks in the gentle cadence that soothes you. It’s almost as if he’s a totally different person there.

“I think... I think I’m okay. I...”

“Sweetie, come on, this isn’t home. We have to do real work. So, let’s talk about Andy.”

You grip the edges of the journal and shrink down, “do we have to?”

“Now, you know we have to. You can’t keep running away. That was very intense, wasn’t it? Leaving.”

You put your head down and nod, “yeah...”

Silence. He waits and sniffs. He shifts and sighs. That noise, that release of breath, makes you shudder. It reminds you of Andy.

“Are you still afraid of him?”

You nod again.

“But you’re safe. With me. So why are you afraid?” He prompts.

You let go of the journal and wring your hands atop it, “I don’t... I dream of him. He’s angry and... he’s chasing me or... I’m locked up and he won’t let me go--” you cover your face and shake your head, “no, I don’t want to think about it.”

“Now, Dove, we are making progress. You can’t just do that every time you get scared, right? You go so far and then you immediately pull back,” he tisks. “So let go into that more. You’re afraid of him. Why?”

You flinch and look at him. You pout, “he hurt me. You know--”

“Right now, I don’t know anything. I need you to tell me.”

You stare, open-mouth, horrified. You couldn’t even write those things down. You swallow dryly. He nods and leans forward.

“Take your time.”

You look down. You can’t look at him. You wallow in the tension and suck in air through your nose, letting it over from your mouth.

“He... he... he kissed me when I didn’t want to. I never asked... never said... and he touched me,” you eke out. “And... it hurt when we were in bed together--”

“Sweetie, you don’t need to be shy. Sex is natural, we both know that. If you aren’t completely honest with yourself, let alone me, you can’t work through this,” he coaxes.

You sniffle and scratch your nose. “He held me down...”

You close your eyes as it trickles out. Little by little. It builds to a stream with your tears as you recite all the things Andy made you do. The things he said to you. How he said without saying it that he would hurt your sister.

“Good job, sweetie,” Steve praises. “Why don’t you take a break, come here?”

You jolt up straight and blink at the room. You nearly forgot he was there. You catch the journal before it can slip off your lap and hug it. It’s your shield.

Steve rubs his thigh and you stand up. You cross to him with tiny steps and he reaches for you. He directs you around to sit on his lap. He rubs your shoulder as he lean into him. He tickles along your neck.

“Alright, so, let’s work on your journal, sweetie,” he slips the pen from his chest pocket, “here.”

You take it from him. He curls his arm around you and opens the journal, holding it over your legs. You click the nib of the pen out and peer down at the blank page.

“Well...” he shifts beneath you, spreading his knees wider. As he does, you feel something. Him! He’s hard. You put your head down and shakily hover the pen over the page.

“What do I write?”

“Hmm, well, I can get you start,” he wiggles under you so his dick presses against your ass. “’Today, Dr. Kemp helped me. We talked about my trauma and now I won’t be afraid of Andy because I know the doctor will protect me.’”

You write without thinking then pull the pen back and reread the words. You gasp. “Trauma?”

“Why, yes, sweetie, you understand now what he was doing, right?”

Your eyes burn again and your wipe your tears away with your sleeve. Steve’s hand flutters up your naked thigh and he plays with the hem of the skirt he picked out for you that day. You nod and gulp, biting your cuff.

“I understand,” you murmur around the fabric.

“And that’s the first step to sorting out all your feelings. You did a very good job today,” he pets your thigh, higher and higher, “you trust me, right? You know I mean it, I’ll protect you.”

“Yes, yes,” you squeak. “Of course.”

“Mmm,” he purrs and puts his lips against the shoulder of your sweater, “we’re all done, sweetie. You did so good.”

“I did?” You bat your webbed lashes and drop your hand.

“Oh, yes, you did,” his other hand comes up to nudge your chin as he feels along the front of your panties, “gimme a kiss, sweetie.”

Your stomach does that thing. It flips but this time, it hurts. You turn in his lap and press your lips to his and daintily touch his cheek. You like touching him, just like that, small little curious brushes. He smiles against your mouth and pokes his tongue inside.

He groans and rubs your pussy through the cotton. You clench your legs around him as his other hand cradles your head. The journal falls to the floor forgotten as he grunts and twitches. He prods you through his pants once more.

“Sweetie, you’re hurting me,” he utters against your cheek.

“Oh, no,” you try to push off of him, “I’m sorry--”

“No, no, I just need... need you to help me,” he purrs as he leans back and looks you in the face. “Sweetie, did I ever tell you how pretty your mouth is.”

“What?” You can’t help but smile and his eyes cling to your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, when... when we are you know... together, I always watch it. The way you curl your lip when you cum...” he drags his thumb along your lower lip. “Do you wanna use your mouth on me? Like I do you?”

Your chest pounds and your ears singe. You only ever did that with Andy and you didn’t like it but you like Steve and things are nice with him. You bite down on your lip and his eyes fixate on the movement. You squeeze his hand between your thighs.

“Yes,” you answer as you trace along his cheekbone. He is so handsome and his eyes are so brilliant and bright and he’s taken care of you. And you want to enjoy the time when it’s the two of you.

You squirm and he lets you go. You get off his lap and he groans again. He drapes his arms over the chair and leans into the puckered leather. He sets his feet wider and watches you. You stand before him, buzzing with nerves.

“Go on, sweetie, you’re in control.”

You hesitate. Huh? You only ever do what others wanted. But he’s handing you the reins and now you feel you might get tangled in them.

You come close again and look down at the bulge in his pants. Your eyes round and you look at him. He urges you on with a nod. You grab his pants and flick open the fly. You’re trembling. You finally get his zipper down and fall to your knees.

He groans and wriggles in the seat. You reach into his boxers and pull him out. You hold him lightly and he drones, “tighter.” You squeeze and drag your hand up to his swollen head. He shudders and grips the armrests until the creak.

“Oh, sweetie.”

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

“No, it’s good,” he growls, “oh, baby, please, put it in your mouth.”

You stare at his dick. You can’t look him in the face. You lean in and breathe warmly over him. He twitches again. You press your lips around him and he voice rumbles from his chest. He grunts as you spread your mouth over his tip and slide him inside.

You push your tongue to him as you move your hand down to his base and he whimpers.

“Dove,” he reaches to cradle the back of your head, shoving you down, “like that.”

You take him until you nearly gag. He lets you up but not off, pushing you deep again. He rocks his hips in time with his guiding hand.

“Touch yourself, too,” he orders, his timbre turning gruff.

You hum around him and keep your head bobbing. Your spit plasters over the side of your hand and around your lips. The sucking noise fills your ears and curdles deep in your stomach. You’re both intoxicated and disgusted by the sloppy act.

He says it’s up to you. You can’t stop if you want to, right? But you don’t want to stop.

You snake your hand down under your skirt. You touch where he had. The cotton is wet. You slip your fingers around the edge of your pants and flick over your clit. You whine around him and he moves you faster, up and down his length. A saltiness mingles with your saliva.

“Ooh, sweetie, oh, you’re so good. So good. You treat me so good, don’t you?” He snarls as he clutches your hair in his fist. “Mmm, do you feel good too? Are you wet? Mm, I know you are. Just thinking about the way you take me, I’m almost... I’m about too...”

You try to pull off as you feel his pulsing in your mouth. He doesn’t let you. He holds you in place and pumps his dick into you from below.

“No, please, I want you to taste me, baby. Don’t you want to taste me? Mm, I know you do. Fuck, I’m gonna blow. Are you ready, baby? Swee-ee—etie.”

He spasms and cums, filling your mouth and throat. You choke and it shoots up your nose so you can smell it. You cough around him and your spit and his semen dribble out around him and leak onto your hand. He lets you go and you pop your mouth off of him and spit into your hand.

“Mm, I’m sorry, sweetie, I couldn’t hold it,” he cups his sac as his dick flops against his pants. “You’re too good.”

“It’s... okay,” you rasp and swallow what you can. “I just...”

You pull your other hand free from your panties and search around for a tissue. You get to your feet and wobble around to the box on his desk. You stop at he red streaked down to your knuckles. Shoot.

“Oh...” you stare at the mess, “I think...”

“Mm,” he groans as the chair echoes him, “ah, that’s okay, sweetie, I don’t mind a bit of blood.”

“I’m sorry,” you quickly wipe you fingers clean.

“It’s natural, sweetie. It means you’re healthy,” he purrs. “You know, you should put that in your journal too. Track your cycle, make sure you’re regular. Stress can really affect your flow.”

“Oh, I guess... sure...” you turn back to him as he plays with his softening cock.

“Mm,” he strokes slowly. “I still wanna feel you on me, sweetie.”

“But--”

“I told ya, I don’t care,” he sits up and sighs. “How about you bend over the desk? I like your bum.”

“Oh,” you nod and face the desk. You can say no, you just have to say it. Say it. “Okay.”

He stops behind you and pushes his pants so they heap at his feet. He grabs your hips and wrenches your skirt up. He scratches you as he pulls down your panties and you squirm in embarrassment. You don’t want him to get all bloody but he says it’s not a big deal. You don’t want to disappoint him.

“I’m a doctor, sweetie. You know, it’s good to do this while you’re menstruating,” he bends his knees and pokes along your cunt. “It helps with cramps.”

He thrusts into you, forcing you to your toes and you brace the desk to keep from falling forward. He grips the back of your neck, his other hand tight on your hip, and he ruts into you. There’s no patience left in him and you really just want it to be over.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #steve kemp #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #don't speak #au #librarian au #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob #fresh

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meowbert-whiskers · 10 months ago

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Weird ass Resident Evil head cannons because my brain is too silly

Wesker 100% got bullied by Chris and Jill when he was working with S. T. A. R. S. and cried at least once from it.

The moment Ashely got home she started crying to emo nightcore music while downing an entire pack of shredded cheddar cheese.

Luis definitely grabbed Leon's ass at least once whenever he bent down, then got the same treatment from Leon.

Leon purposefully coughs very dramatically in front of people who smoke to make them feel bad.

Chris has frequent nightmares about marrying Jill just for her to turn out to be Wesker in disguise. Every single time he has that nightmare he wakes up in a cold sweat with tears streaming down his face like he just saw the most horrifying thing know to man.

Rebecca has a penis straw some where in her house. It was a gift from Jill.

Wesker is horribly afraid of horses. Any time he sees a horse he starts running away as fast as he can. One time a horse smiled at him and he started screaming in terror.

The only reason Claire wears a ponytail is because one time when she was younger she went to a public pool with Chris and got her hair stuck in one of the drains and had to get a short hair cut. She was bullied about it for years by Chris.

Sherry is obsessed with Pokemon, especially when Leon first started working with the government since he got a bunch of money, and had a Pokemon themed bedroom. Her favourite Pokemon is Sylveon. Leon's is Pikachu because he's a dumb idiot who never saw the appeal and just wanted to make Sherry happy.

William was incredibly nerdy to the point where Annette would sometimes tape his mouth shut while they worked or else her infodump about each way to use a syringe/suture needle/any sort of medical shit they had to use. Albert didn't mind it when he rambled, though.

Chris once pranked Albert by switching his artificial sugars for his coffee with salt and hiding laxatives in it as well. Albert has never forgave him.

Jill once smacked Chris so hard he fell over and folded like an omelette. His spine has never recovered.

Leon was 100% a fan of Oingo Boingo and Weird Al. I will not explain any further.

Ada gets her nails done every other month by the same nail tech. Rebecca is secretly the nail tech.

Leon once accidentally sat on one of Sherry's Plush Charizards and got screamed at for an hour. Sherry said that she didn't want his "butt cooties" on her dragon.

Ashley loves cheese. Specifically brie.

Leon sometimes stares outside of the windows in his home while zoning out and standing completely straight. He also falls asleep like that with his eyes open. Chris will sometimes join him in watching the outside except he stands like a dad and does that thing where he has some sort of nut in his hands and shakes them around before eating them.

Chris wants to have kids, more specifically a daughter, so when Leon was on missions and Claire had to babysit her, he'd try to bond with Sherry. Sherry was horribly afraid of him and would cry if she was picked up by him.

Chris once smacked Wesker so hard his glasses went flying off. Wesker immediately got on the floor and started searching for them Velma style.

Leon unironicaly goes "YEOWCH!" whenever he gets hurt.

In the helicopter, Carlos slung his arm around Jill to try and be hot. It backfired once he realized Jill was both sleeping and drooling all over his arm. Ew.

Leon coughs like an old man on hospice.

Wesker sneezes like a kitten, especially during serious situations. He goes, "I'LL FUCKING END YOU-Achoo! (｡>﹏<｡)"

William once mistook Albert for Anette when he was incredibly tired and kissed Wesker on the lips. Neither were complaining.

This is so fucking dumb but please listen to my insane ramblings. PLEASE.

#rebhfun #:3 #i love being silly #resident evil #leon kennedy #luis serra #re rebecca #rebecca chambers #jill valentine #jill resident evil #albert wesker #chris redfield #chris resident evil #ashley graham #ashley resident evil #theyre all so stupid i love them ♡

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milliesfishes · 4 months ago

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alex comforting you while you’re on your period and accidently bled through 😭

⋆౨ৎalex when you get your period⋆౨ৎ fem reader x alex nilsen

Consciousness. The sheets under your smooth legs, blanket pulled up over your waist. Alex's hand was low on your back, one of your legs hooked over his thigh. Even though the two of you always fell asleep close yet separated, you always ended up finding your way back to each other, like lovers in the grave.

You shifted, eyelashes fluttering. There was a tiny pain in your lower belly, a twinge that made you open your eyes as you began to realize its familiarity. Oh no.

Sitting up, ripping the covers back and yanking yourself away, you were horrified to see red staining the spot between your legs, ruining your favorite sleep shorts. There was a splotch of blood stark on the sheets, and even more humiliatingly, on Alex's pajama pants.

You whimpered, tears stinging your eyes. This was hardly the first time you'd bled through overnight, but never had it happened with your sleeping boyfriend right next to you. Dread curdled under your skin as you thought of the work that laid ahead- changing the sheets, washing the blood from your clothes, dealing with another week of bleeding and cramping just because you weren't pregnant.

Alex stirred next to you, his hand finding your thigh before you could dart away to hide in the bathroom. He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, sitting up with you. "You okay?" He followed your eyes to the red stain on the sheets. "Ah."

Hiding your face in your hands, you dry sobbed, embarrassment flooding your system and burning your cheeks pink. Immediately Alex put his arms around you, rubbing your shoulder and kissing your head. "Honey. It's okay. It's completely okay, you're okay."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, shaking your head. Now that you were conscious, the cramps were coming in full force, stabbing at your insides and causing you to draw your knees to your chest in hopes of some relief.

"No sorrys," Alex murmured, bringing your head to rest on his shoulder. "Shh, it's okay. What'll make you feel better?"

"I want to shower," you managed, gathering the courage to lift your head.

"Okay. Okay, you go shower," he said softly, drawing gentle circles into your back. "I'm gonna get you some breakfast so you can take Ibuprofen okay?" He kissed your hair when you nodded, patting your thigh and standing up, leaving you by yourself.

Retreating to the bathroom, you took a lengthy shower, letting the steam unburden you from the womanly ache that stretched you thin. You let yourself relax, ignoring the sounds outside the door and trying to clear your mind.

Once you were changed into your comfiest leggings and one of Alex's sweatshirts, you emerged, strings of wet hair clinging to your cheeks. Finding your way into the kitchen, Alex turned around almost the instant you passed the doorframe, smiling in his sweet way. "Any better?"

"A little." You lifted one sweatshirt-sleeve covered hand to rub your cheek. "I need to eat something."

"I've gotcha. Go sit down," Alex said, nodding at the couch in the living room. You obeyed, too sleepy to even try to fight back.

He sat beside you shortly after with a bowl of yogurt and berries, Ibuprofen bottle tucked under an arm, corresponding hand holding a steaming mug of tea. You sighed, feeling close to tears again just at how thoughtful he was.

Alex set everything down on the coffee table and let his hand settle on your hip, rubbing slightly. "Do you need anything else?"

You shook your head, reaching for the yogurt. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby." Alex kissed your head and stood up, thumb lingering on your cheek. "I'm gonna go change the sheets and then I'll be back."

Your cheeks flushed, and he shook his head, rubbing your jaw. "Don't. It's no big deal. I'll be right back." The casual way he went to take care of something you'd built up to be so embarrassing in your mind was practically heroic to you, and you nearly cried for the third time today.

Alex came back to you in fresh pajama pants just as you were taking your medicine, the bowl of yogurt scraped clean. You gulped down the pills with a mouthful of tea, taking in a breath and bringing a hand to your head. He smiled sympathetically, reaching over to rub your back. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Cuddles," you murmured, turning and reaching for him. He obliged instantly, taking you in his arms and letting you adjust yourself into a comfortable position. Once you were settled, he slid his palm under your sweatshirt, right over your belly. You breathed easy at the feel of him holding you there, the heat of his hand chasing away some of the pain while you waited for the pills to kick in.

He kissed your temple. "I'm sorry you're hurting, baby."

You hummed, half into sleep already. His body was so warm around yours, lulling you into a restful state. The cramps that had been pulsing through your body were softening, his presence and the pills both doing their job.

Alex let his chin rest on your head. "I've got you. Just rest."

#alex nilsen #pwmov fanfiction #alex nilsen fanfic #people we meet on vacation #alex nilsen x reader #pwmov #pwmov x reader #pwmov x you #alex nilsen x you #alex nilsen fics #alex nilsen fluff #pwmov fluff #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #alex nilsen pwmov #milliesfishes alex

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marigold-hills · 5 months ago

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burnt, part 2

part 1 here: LINK

They don’t have a first date.

Here is the thing about dating while raising children: it doesn’t work. Or maybe it does and it’s just James, particularly unlucky, because it’s like clockwork: they set a date, they choose a restaurant, James gets ready and then something happens.

No-show babysitter. Broken washing machine flooding the kitchen. Harry waking up screaming, with a fever.

By the end of two weeks, he’s cancelled on Regulus three times.

He’s more than surprised to get another shot. They’ve been texting, Regulus wonderfully sharp and wonderfully patient. Every day, he drives his now-silent not-ice-cream van down James’ road, and they wave at each other through the kitchen window. James watches him and vows to never get in a car with Regulus behind the wheel, because the way he drives? Atrocious. He regularly stalls, misses his turn off the road, and treats traffic rules as nothing more than suggestions. For James road safety is very important, but somehow even this is endearing instead of rightfully horrifying.

It’s a Thursday evening and James is ready for their date on Friday. Everything is sorted out: the dinner reservation is made, the flowers are waiting in a vase (sunflowers and baby’s breath), his good thin sweater (curse the English weather) is dried and ironed and ready. His mum is taking Harry for the night. Nothing is going to go wrong.

At six thirty, it starts to rain. It’s been raining for a few weeks, so he’s not surprised, but then the sky gets dark and ominous looking, and it really starts coming down. Within half an hour he can barely see outside. Harry, mercifully, sleeps through the thunder, uncaring of the inclement weather. At six thirty, James makes himself a cup of tea, looks out of the window, and promptly chokes.

Against some of the strongest wind James can remember seeing, the flimsy little ice cream van stalls. Sputters. Doesn’t start again. James puts down his tea, puts on his shoes, grabs the baby monitor, and rushes outside.

It’s a pitiful sight. The wipers are trying their best but no matter, the window remains completely obscured by water. The side of the van is open. Regulus sits inside, frantic looking and completely soaked, trying his best to start the engine.

James, already feeling the water seeping though his socks, knocks on the window. It’s rolled down. Big eyes, big pout.

“If you ask me for a flake I’ll ruin your life.”

James laughs out loud. “You can’t drive in this.”

“Sure I can. It’s just rain.”

As if in response, a massive, forked lightning splits the sky in half, rumble of thunder following within a split second.

“Bit of a storm,” Regulus adds. The right side of his hair is plastered to his face, the curls stretched and sagging. A raindrop makes its way down his nose. He sneezes and its all so pitiful James just wants to bring him tea and wrap him in a blanket.

“Come on, love,” he says, patient despite having gotten completely drenched, “come inside. I’ll park this up for you, alright?”

For a second Regulus looks like he’ll argue – against coming inside or James driving his van, or maybe against both. Then, another strike of lightning and he scoots over on the chair, opens the door for James to climb in.

It’s less than five minutes, the whole interaction, until they’re tracking water across the floor of James’ living room and kitchen. Harry hadn’t stirred, unaware that the person his daddy has been excitingly talking about for days is now in their home.

James gets them each a towel and sticks on the kettle for tea. Regulus thanks him and runs it over his head, making his curls stick up in all directions. James has a startling realisation that there is a drug dealer in his house and that he let him in willingly – demanded it even.

It’s not the reason he starts laughing.

He starts laughing because, apparently, that is how drug dealers look. Beautiful and tiny and scowling at their wet t shirts, with rings on every finger and eyes like those.

Regulus looks at him a bit wounded, and that’s fair enough actually, because he stands in James’ kitchen for the very first time, looking a little worse for wear, and James just laughs.

“It’s not…” James starts, trying to explain himself, but a bout of giggles stops him again, “you’re very beautiful, and you’re in my kitchen.”

The blush that spreads across Regulus’ face goes al the way down his neck (pretty pretty pretty), and James notices just how soggy his clothes are. “I’ll bring you something dry to wear, alright? Just make yourself comfortable.”

He comes back, himself changed and with a soft T-shirt and comfortable joggers for Regulus (and if the thoughts that led him there were too close to: I want to see him in my clothes, then that’s his own business and nobody else’s.)

“I didn’t know how you take your tea,” Regulus tells him as he takes the clothes, “but I made you one anyway. The way I have it. Because that’s the correct way.”

There’s something so wonderful about how Regulus speaks, all blunt edges to cover a softness.

“Black with lots of sugar?”

Sceptical wariness. “How did you know?”

“You look like you’d have a sweet tooth,” James laughs in response and isn’t it lovely, to stand in a kitchen, with the smell of tea in the air, and a person who inspires laughter?

But Regulus is apparently full of mischief, too. “Are you sweet?” he asks, innocent as anything, big eyes looking up from under his wet curls, and James chokes on his laughter and on thin air.

“Where can I change?” he adds like he’s not just rearranged all the atoms in James’ body to point north.

“Bathroom,” he manages, “first door up the stairs.”

When he comes back his curls are in a frizzy disarray, and James’ shirt dwarfs him. He pulls on the hem, looking unsure. It’s the first time James sees him looking unsure and goddamn it, this works on him just as well.

Could spend his whole life exploring different expressions show up on Regulus’ face, James could. Maybe even causing them. (Definitely causing them.)

“Harry?” Regulus asks.

“Asleep.”

“How long for?”

“Should be a couple hours still.”

“Good,” he strides across the kitchen, crowds James against the counter.

Regulus’ nose is cold the first time they kiss. It makes it even better somehow, this one point against the hot silk of his mouth. James thinks that without it – it grounds him – without it, his mind wouldn’t be able to stay anchored. As it is, he’s floating.

Regulus hums, pulls away. It’s a tragedy. “You are sweet,” he says and then his lips are on the corner of James’ mouth and on his jaw and on the space where his neck meets it.

#jegulus #regulus x james #james loves regulus #james potter #james x regulus #regulus black #regulus loves james #starchaser #sunseeker

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coffeefiction · 1 month ago

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Megatron's "Not So Interesting' Life

So, I have this thought of an au for a while, where the war never happened but the world is littered with anomalies, entities and all that jazz, right? And Megatron, is just a normal mech, with a normal life, being friends with "normal" people and finding their newly crowned Prime off. Oh! He also gets these cool abilities that I have yet to properly set down-

If you have any ideas on what I should do with this story! Or questions! Let me know! Have fun!

_______________________

Megatron knows that he special he has always known this. How could he not? From a young age, he could instinctively distinguish between a walking glitch of a fake and an actual mecha. It was as if his optics had been calibrated to detect the unseen threads of the universe. Shadows danced at the edges of his vision, and he always had the gnawing sense that something lurked just beyond his peripheral awareness. Not that he cared. In fact, he barely gave it a second thought.

Megatron has always known that he has abilities, that he has a gift. He knew this. He could see what others couldn’t. Yet, for the longest time, he refused to acknowledge it, treating it as little more than an inconvenient quirk. That was, until he befriended a few of those shadowy entities that liked to pass themselves off as part of the mortal world. He never really minded—they weren’t doing him any harm, again, he barely cared.

They are attracted to Megatron's gift, I mean, who wouldn't? Having the ability to sniff out someone's bull is pretty helpful.

You see, Megatron grew up in Kaon, and growing up in Kaon, which was and is a place dripping with superstition, Megatron had heard his share of horror stories: the dark, Unicron’s spawns, Primus’ Youngs, and the whispers of what prowled in the shadows. These tales were used to scare younglings into good behavior.

Megatron himself had his fair share of those stories, although, some of the elders do love to exaggerate those stories.

He likes it, not because it makes it creepy. He didn’t find them scary—he found them funny, mostly because of his friends. For reasons he still couldn’t quite fathom, his closest companions growing up were a spark eater, a ghoul, and a demon. Hearing their outrage over the inaccuracies in these tales was endlessly entertaining.

“You can’t eat a spark like that,” Starscream, the spark eater, would hiss in annoyance whenever he hears these ridiculous stories . “Why do they always describe it like I’m slurping energon soup? There’s nuance!”

“Ghouls: do not hide under berths: waiting to snatch younglings” deadpanned Soundwave, the ghoul, glaring at Megatron. “Soundwave: not a sterotype: Stories; exaggerated”

And Shockwave, the demon of the group would just simply twitch in annoyance.

And unlike Iacon, who rarely has anything to do with superstitions and such beliefs were dismissed as primitive nonsense. (or as media likes to portray it). Kaon has plenty, it thrived on superstition, unlike Iacon, If Kaon had a museum for the supernatural, it would probably need its own skyscraper.

Megatron can attest to it, as stated before, he is friends with some of the horrifying entities that the tales always tell. Not only that, He’d had his share of encounters with those dark forces, not all of them pleasant. Most of the time, it ended in one of three ways: a fight, a frantic escape, or an unsettling brush with death. The only reason Megatron was still functioning was thanks to his friends, who often bailed him out of tight spots to save his arf.

Yet despite all of this, Megatron barely cares.

He doesn't do much, than work at his boring office job, visit his friends and reassure them that he is well, one of the literally lives in Vos! But at least his trip is always payed, courtesy to his friend. Outside of that? His life is completely barren and uneventful.

That is, until he met the new Prime that goes by the name Optimus Prime. Not, met met him, more like saw him in the holos and the streets during the coronation parade. He didn't wanna be there to be honest, but Starscream wanted to be there, he was in town for royal duties as the Prince of Vos and he wanted to Megatron to hang out with him, that isn't the mech's lonely apartment or Soundwave's house, or Shockwave's lab.

And Megatron, is a friend, so Megatron decided to go with Starscream, begrudgingly of course.

When Megatron first laid his optics on the New Prime, he immediately sensed something was off, and he can tell that Starscream noticed too, yet he seem calm, which was odd. Normally, Starscream would have been on high alert, his predatory instincts kicking in. But this time? He wasn’t reacting defensively. That wasn’t exactly a good sign, isn't a bad one either.

Spark eaters tend to have heightened senses, they have the ability to sniff out their pray, and they have the ability to semi manipulate the perception of others, making it easy for them to blend in. If Starscream wasn’t threatened, that meant whatever this “off” thing was, it wasn’t something Starscream recognized as dangerous—or perhaps it was something he couldn’t categorize at all.

Megatron looks at the Prime, observing him closely. Their newly crowned Prime seems nice, he speaks very confidently yet softly, a leader with stern yet does not weild his fist to cage those around him. He spoke to the crowd with warmth, crouched to address younglings optic-to-optic, and carried himself with an air of calm authority.

Megatron….he knows there is something wrong, something off with the Prime. Megatron could feel it, like static in his circuits. He wanted to dig deeper, to pull at the threads of this mystery. But before he could, Starscream interrupted.

Megatron has to put those thoughts into a file and store it for later to entertain his friend. A bored Starscream always never ends well.

Soundwave can attest to that.

So Megatron talks to Starscream as they watch the parade from the distance in the balcony of Starscream's fancy hotel. They watch as the Prime mingle with the civilian, as he interacts with the younglings with such care.

“Ugh. Look at that pompous mech!” Starscream sneered, slumping dramatically in his chair.

Megatron arched an optic ridge. “What are you talking about? He seems fine.”

“Fine? Look at him, so pristine, so proper!” Starscream gestured wildly at the balcony railing. “He’s too sweet. It’s disgusting. He’s practically dripping syrup on those younglings!”

"Shouldn't I be the one making complaints here? I'm the one who's gonna get affected if his rule is slag" Megatron quipped dryly, already dreading the new rules and laws that will be set if this Prime is like the other ones before him.

“Oh, please.” Starscream waved him off. “If it were up to you, you’d just brood in silence and not say a word.”

“I would, actually,” Megatron muttered. “Besides, you’re the one verbally attacking your own kind right now.” He pointed out, wanting to immediately change the topic, for all that is stands in this world, Starscream is right, he would probably just brood in silence, rules kept him safe after all.

Starscream makes a disgruntled noise. "That thing down there, is far from being my kin."

Megatron grows confuse, he looks at Starscream. "What do you mean?"

“My own kind?” Starscream’s wings twitched irritably as he leaned back in his chair. “That thing down there is not my kin.”

That got Megatron’s attention. He turned to Starscream, optics narrowing. “What do you mean?”

Starscream huffed, clearly annoyed he had to explain. “Look at him! He’s too…off. Too stiff to be a spark eater, too mellow to be a ghoul. His frame doesn’t match anything I recognize. And his voice?” Starscream shuddered theatrically. “It’s wrong. It’s too nice. No one’s voice is that…perfect.”

Megatron frowned, glancing back at the Prime. Now that Starscream mentioned it, he can see more of the odd things about him. The balance of his movements, the precision of his words, the faint flicker of something beneath the surface—it didn’t quite add up.

Huh… Yeah, he can kinda see that now.

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halfwayunder · 2 months ago

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Caitlyn Character Arc Theory! ("the 3 Caitlyns")

I've had some thoughts on the "3 versions of Caitlyn" that I think we'll have seen by the conclusion of the show and how the final act of season 2 will show us Caitlyn in her completed character arc. Caitlyn 1: the first season

This is the Caitlyn we see in season 1. Optimistic, hopeful and a bit naïve or sheltered you could say. Always seeing the good in people and has an abundance of empathy for the people of Zaun. Fighting is a last resort (not that she's unwilling to defend herself, but if she can resolve it peacefully she will) and killing is also not something she is keen on. (As shown by her intentionally only disabling Sevika's arm despite her trying to kill Vi). Caitlyn 2: the second season (act 1 & 2)

This is the Caitlyn we see develop in act 1 of season 2, after the death of her mother and who I think we'll see for most/half of act 2 (I believe the seeds of her realizing she's becoming someone she doesn't like will form in act 2). Fuelled by grief, revenge and anger. This is the first time she's experienced true loss in her life and she does not cope with it well. She starts by blaming it on the actions of one person, Jinx, like her season 1 self would do, but subsequent attacks on Piltover lead to her generalizing Zaun and her empathy for them runs out. Violence is now her first option and she is more than willing to kill people (she was ready to blow that one gang account's head off during questioning even). Caitlyn 3: the second season (act 3) Completed Caitlyn

Now this is basically pure theory as I write this in the wait between act 1 and act 2. But, I believe this will be Caitlyn at the end of her character arc. Having realized the error of her ways, soul-searched, discovered Ambessa has been manipulating her, looked at her family legacy and its positive impact on Zaun (the filtration system she once weaponized) and concluded that her mother would not want her to go down this route. She has taken responsibility for herself and reconciled (see: had very rough and passionate reconciliation sex) with Vi. We do know that Cait and Vi will reconcile and be on the same side at least based on the trailers. She may have been confronted with the consequences of her decisions on ordinary people in Zaun near the end of act 2 and be horrified. Or just realize this naturally once she 'snaps out' of Caitlyn 2. This restores (most) of her season 1 empathy for the people of Zaun. I say most because as I allude to in the paragraph after this one, she isn't naïve like her season 1 self anymore, and knows now that while the people of Zaun should be respected as human beings and given the best chance possible at a safe, prosperous life like those in Piltover. There are elements in the undercity whom still seek to do harm (justified or not) and need to be treated with caution. It's not blind optimism or compassion, but it's the most a person can give in the real world, not the sheltered one she was raised in. This Caitlyn has the best of both previous iterations and is a Caitlyn who has confronted and (mostly) bested her demons. She has the hope and kind spirit of season 1 Cait, but the pragmatism and toughness of season 2 Cait. She is still willing to kill, but only if necessary, not at will. If confronted by another threat like Jinx, she won't hesitate to take the shot, much like Caitlyn 2, only now it isn't a decision made from anger or a desire for revenge, but dedication to protect as many people as possible like Caitlyn 1. She has managed to wrangle her emotions of grief and rage and learn from them. There may be a scene near the end to show this growth when Jinx inevitably appears and Cait's anger flares up again, only for Vi to assure her for one last time that she's got it, and Cait agrees to let her go fight Jinx on her own. Now, of course most of this is guess work! But, I think it would make sense from a narrative perspective for this to be Cait's arc. I don't believe the writers would want to have her just become a full on antagonist and end her story as a villain, it'd be immensely disappointing for the audience and not up to their standards. And I think this would be a very satisfying way to conclude her character development. (I'm also basing some of it based on her appearance in act 3 lmao)

#arcane spoilers #arcane #caitlyn kiramman #caitvi

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anomalyaly · 2 months ago

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Treacle Trouble

Summary: Takes place the summer after Elsie’s fifth year/before her sixth year. Canon to 'Secrets' but can be read on its own. Elsie attempts to bake treats for Sebastian to cheer him up. Her brother, Benjamin, doesn't understand.

Or: Elsie is very bad at baking. AO3/Wattpad

SFW, Fluff with a hint of the sads. Written for a November 2024 discord server event.

2.9k words

Canon divergence: Fifth-years are sixteen when they begin, which means Elsie is seventeen by the time this story occurs and can perform magic outside of school since she is “of age” in the Wizarding World. Also, her family is all Muggles (except her sister) and in my story, the rule of “not performing magic in front of Muggles” doesn’t apply when they live with them (ie. family/guardians) and already know of magic’s existence.

Elsie stared at the array of ingredients in front of her contemplatively, her sleeves rolled up past her elbows and an old apron tied around her waist. She thumbed through the pages of her grandmother's old recipe book looking for the perfect treat. She may not have been the most confident in the kitchen, but surely a basic treacle tart couldn't be that difficult to prepare.

Ever since she had run into Sebastian in Diagon Alley, she couldn't help but find herself constantly obsessing over ways to cheer him up. Life hadn't been particularly easy for either of them the past year, but seeing the melancholic look in his eyes behind the smile he forcibly plastered on made her want to do anything in her power to change it.

"Alright," she huffed as she leaned over the kitchen table, "What first?"

Prepare the crust.

She pulled the bowl out and promptly added the ingredients one by one in the order stated, groaning in frustration. Between prepping the crust and mixing the filling, the recipe would take her ages to do by hand. It was important to her to provide a homemade baked good as a gift, but how to speed up the process?

She glanced over at her wand that she had gingerly placed on the table away from the food.

"Of course!" She smiled to herself proudly as she picked it up. With a flick of her wrist, she levitated the measured-out ingredients into the bowl and commanded the spoon to stir while she began to work on the filling.

She hummed as, with another swift wand movement, she heated the stovetop for the syrup, preemptively patting herself on the back at her ability to use magic to multitask. She was certain she would have been better in the kitchen growing up had she known how to properly execute a spell to aid her.

In her overconfidence, Elsie didn't notice as the wooden spoon began stirring vigorously faster to compensate for the thickening dough until it was too late. A scream could be heard from the kitchen, causing her brother, Benjamin to come bursting into the room, a horrified look on his face at the sight before him.

Elsie stood behind the table covered in flour and half-mixed dough, grinning stupidly at him. Suddenly, Professor Sharp's comparison of her to Garreth and his chaos in Potions class made perfect sense in her mind.

"What on earth were you trying to do?!" Benjamin exclaimed, furrowing his brows at the mess. "Are you...baking?!"

Elsie wiped the sticky dough off her face and feigned nonchalance. "I, uh...was trying to make treacle tarts for a - a friend."

"By blowing up the kitchen?"

She tucked her wand behind her back. "No..."

Benjamin narrowed his eyes at her and tentatively stepped into the room as if afraid another spell was going to pop out of nowhere and strike him. He took a seat nearby and crossed his arms, scrutinizing her. Elsie shifted on her feet, growing increasingly uncomfortable with each passing minute. "What?"

"Go on, then," he said smugly. "I want to see how they teach you to do these things in magic school."

She rolled her eyes. It seemed that all her brother knew how to do these days was act completely insufferable. She harrumphed and haughtily waved her wand, muttering a cleaning charm to straighten up the kitchen.

He raised his eyebrows. "Impressive. Keep that up, and you could be a magical scullery maid."

She ignored his comment as she fixed the dough and continued to work on the filling for the tarts, tapping a finger along the ingredients list and making sure she had everything included before stirring.

Sugar, water, lemon zest, and lemon juice – sounded easy enough. She murmured a summoning charm, wand still in hand as she retrieved the remainder of the ingredients, prepped them, and mixed them into the saucepan over the heated stove.

"Can't you just...conjure up some treacle tarts?" Benjamin asked condescendingly. "Instead of going through all this trouble?"

"No." Elsie continued humming to herself while stirring.

"Why?"

"Because of Gamp's Law."

Benjamin snorted. "Is that some made-up magic thing?"

She let out a huff and faced him, her tone laced with irritation. "It's not made up. It's Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. You can summon it," She demonstrated by summoning the dough from the bowl and placing it onto the floured surface while still yammering on. "But you can't conjure it out of thin air. Technically, there are exceptions, and you can – are you even listening?!"

"Psh." He seemed disinterested, grumbling about how magic is useless as he pulled out a book from the nearby shelf and began to read. She let out a frustrated groan, roughly tugged on her sleeves once more, and kneaded the dough flat before cutting it into smaller pieces to make miniature pie crusts for the tarts and placing each of them into a small pie tin.

Once that task was completed, Elsie finished preparing the filling with fresh breadcrumbs, cream, and an egg, stirring gently into the sugar as the recipe book directed her. She grinned to herself, excited to see how the tasty treats would turn out. She couldn't wait to give them to Sebastian.

She poured the sticky mixture into each of the crusts and popped them in the oven. Elsie dusted her hands off and glanced at Benjamin as she turned the kitchen timer and placed it on the table. "And now, we wait."

Her brother peeked up from his book. "Can't make time go faster either? Or wave your wand and have the tarts finished already?

Elsie frowned. "I'm trying to do it as homemade as possible."

He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly suspicious of her intentions. "Is your 'friend' a boy?"

"It's –" She toed at a spot on the floor, fighting the blush that crept up her neck. "That's – that's none of your concern!"

Benjamin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, not deigning her with a response as he returned to his book. Elsie sat at the table across from him and flipped through the rest of the recipes while she waited for the tarts to finish baking.

Twenty minutes passed, and Benjamin perked up, sniffing the air. "Something's burning."

"What?!" Elsie jumped up and ran to the oven with Benjamin following close behind. When she opened it, plumes of smoke came pouring out, causing them to choke and sputter. She blindly grabbed for her wand and cast an Extinguishing Charm to smother the fire that was starting to build in the oven. It let out a soft pop, and she cast an instinctive shield charm to be safe. Her brother's eyes were wide and bewildered.

"What did you do?" He asked after the smoke had died down. Elsie leaned over the counter to open the window. "How in God's name did you manage to muck it up that badly?!"

She levitated the pan out of the oven, used a cooling charm, and placed it on the countertop. The would-be golden tarts instead appeared as crispy, blackened discs. Elsie stared at them in horror. "That's definitely not what they're supposed to look like."

Benjamin tentatively grabbed one and raised it to his nose, sniffing it before taking a small, apprehensive bite and immediately reeling back in disgust. "Jesus bloody Christ, Els!" He spat out the little bit that had managed to graze his taste buds and searched the cabinets for anything, anything to be able to wash down the monstrosity that she had created.

Elsie picked at her apron awkwardly and tried to make light of the situation. "Wow. Don't let Mum hear you talking like that." She brushed off her hands. "Come on, it can't be that bad, can it?"

He gave her a weary look. "It's not only bad. It's horrendous. It's a sin to mankind. Are you trying to charm this boy or poison him?!"

"Neither!" She threw up her hands exasperatedly. "I'm trying to cheer him up!"

"Oh, you'll cheer him alright," he said, still trying to wipe off the residue of the destroyed tart from his tongue. "Cheer him straight to his grave."

Elsie stiffened at his words, her eyes turning downcast. "Don't say that."

She could feel her brother's gaze on her as she moved to clean up the mess she had made in the kitchen, the retching noises he had been previously making finally subsided.

"What...happened last year?" he asked quietly.

What a loaded question. Elsie didn't bother responding. He probably wouldn't understand or care if she had put any effort into telling the entire story anyway – not that she would have. Though he was the younger of the two of them, he often played the part of 'older brother' simply because of the hierarchy her parents had created within their family dynamic. But he couldn't comprehend magic, no matter how many times she had tried to explain, and it only served to widen the already large rift between them.

Benjamin sighed, and she looked up at him long enough to see his face soften slightly. "What did you put in the tarts?"

She ticked off a finger as she listed them. "Flour, water, salt, confectioner's sugar –"

"Confectioner's sugar?" He gaped at her. "You're supposed to use granulated sugar!"

"We were out!"

He smacked his lips together. "The crust is ridiculously salty –"

"I...didn't have the right measuring spoon."

" – and you over-stirred it, which made it tough and chewy." He tapped one of the pastries for emphasis. "Confectioner's sugar. No wonder it burned!"

Elsie groaned and plopped down in a nearby chair, burying her face in her hands. "Merlin's beard. I can't give this to Sebastian."

"Merlin's what?" Benjamin sat down next to her, looking like his head had been spun like a top. "Hold on – Sebastian? This is for that wizard boy?"

She shushed him. "He's just a friend! Wizards aren't as worried about all the –"

"Does Mum know?" He pressed. "Does Dad? You're going to get in so much trouble –"

"They –"

"And you're baking. For a wizard boy. Like a commoner."

"Alright!" Elsie snapped. "If you have nothing better to do than stand there and insult me, at least help me clean this up before anyone else comes home and sees it!"

Benjamin scoffed. "It certainly says a lot about your cooking skills when I could bake a better treacle tart than that."

She was about to clean up her sad excuse for baked goods when she paused and turned to him, surprised. "Wait, what? You can bake?"

"I –" He snapped his mouth shut, realizing what he had just given away. "No."

"Benji." Elsie grabbed him by the arm, and he flinched at her touch. "Can you bake?!"

Benjamin yanked his arm away from her and took a step back. He refused to look at her, which was all she needed as a confirmation. "How in Merlin's – I-I mean, how in the world did you learn to bake?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, and she thought he wasn't going to answer her until he let out another long sigh. "When Mum and Dad weren't home, I would sit in the kitchen and watch the cooks. Even ask them questions and such. Sometimes, they would let me help."

It was interesting information to her, seeing a softer side of her brother that she hadn't realized had ever been there. Benjamin had always been the more closed-off, adventurous type, roaming outside and exploring to his heart's content with the amount of freedom he was given compared to her and Lydia. But she would have never suspected that he was interested in culinary arts.

He seemed to be trying to read her reaction, and his expression turned defensive. "Don't tell Dad."

Elsie smiled slyly. "Why not? Certainly, this information could come in handy."

"Elsie..." he warned dangerously. "I'm serious."

"How about this?" She tapped her wand on the table, gesturing to the tarts. "I won't tell anyone about your interests in the kitchen if you don't tell anyone about Sebastian."

"Fine." He let out a soft huff.

"And," she continued, "you have to help me make new tarts."

Benjamin ran his hands through his neatly parted hair in irritation, but he nodded in agreement at her proposal. "Deal."

Elsie grinned. "Deal."

Diagon Alley was a bustling hub of witches and wizards, tucked away inconspicuously in downtown London behind a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. When her parents would drag her to another one of their uneventful shopping trips, she had often noticed how out of place the building appeared, but never once had thought to go in until the day Professor Fig brought her to the Alley to buy supplies.

It all seemed so long ago.

She sat at one of the tables with her box of treats waiting expectantly for a certain Slytherin boy to show up, and her heart nearly burst out of her chest when he walked through the door. She met his eyes and saw that the spark in them still simmered below the surface, and she was determined to bring it back in full if it was the last thing she did.

"Sebastian!" Elsie stood up from her seat as he approached her table, a gentle smile on his face. "It's good to see you again. I brought you something."

Before he could open his mouth in greeting, she excitedly pulled out the pastry box and popped open the lid, displaying the most delectable-looking treacle tarts anyone had ever seen. The scent of them wafted into the air, and Elsie's mouth watered as she inhaled their citrusy fragrance – much different from the stench of burning sugar that she had produced with her earlier attempt to bake.

Sebastian looked at the pastries, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. "Did...did you make all these? By yourself?"

She considered lying to him and taking credit for it, then worried that he would try to persuade her to continue baking for him. After all, the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, or whatever her mother had often said. She couldn't keep up the charade for very long, lest she inadvertently poison him if she attempted to bake again.

"No," Elsie admitted as they sat down at the table. "I mean, I did try. But...my brother ended up having to, er, fix my...kitchen mishap. He actually made these." She held the box closer to him. "Try one. They're quite good."

Sebastian picked out one of the treacle tarts, a smirk crossing his face. "Kitchen mishap? Can't wait to hear that story." He took a bite out of the tart and let out a sinful moan that had her blushing. "Merlin's pants, that's good."

"Yeah?" She smiled brightly. "I'll have to let Benji know."

He licked the bits of tart off of his fingers and hummed. "I'm sure yours couldn't have been that bad."

Elsie pulled out one of the less burnt discs from her bag and held it out to him. "Are you sure? I saved a few as treats for the puffskeins because I'm fairly certain they're the only ones that can stomach this abomination. I didn't want it to go to waste."

"Maybe – maybe it looks worse than it tastes?"

She leaned back in her chair and sighed. "No, it tastes pretty bad. Ben already gave me an earful after trying one." She plopped the sad little tart down, tucked her chin in her hand, and rested her elbow on the table. "I suppose I'll just have to accept that, even with practice, I don't have the knack for preparing food."

It was infuriating, wanting to learn something so badly and simply be unable to execute it properly. At least with school, if she studied hard enough and pushed herself beyond her limits to perfection, she could perform well in almost everything, it seemed – except for cooking. It was hard to hide her disappointment in herself.

She was startled when she saw Sebastian staring at her, his gaze intense, and she stiffened, worried that he had somehow been reading her rambling thoughts. She opened her mouth to question him and brush off the glum expression that had inevitably been on her face when he did the thing that she least expected him to do.

He snatched the burnt treacle tart from off the table top and took a large bite.

Elsie gaped at him completely horrified. "Sebastian! Spit that out this instant!"

She could see his look of revulsion that he struggled to hide, and she mentally recited any charms and spells she could think of in case he was poisoned from her disaster of a recipe.

"No — no, it's – it's good!" He choked out, adding to her alarm. She grabbed him by the arm and shook him fiercely.

"Sebastian, I swear to Merlin –"

He finally decided that he had enough of the torment, ran to the nearest waste bin, and dramatically spat out the piece of the tart he had insisted on trying. Once he returned to the table, breathing heavily and with a forced grin on his face, Elsie let out a long, tired sigh.

"I did warn you."

Sebastian seemed to be trying his best to avoid scraping the remnants of the horrible tart off of his tongue. The sight of him biting his tongue, squirming in his chair to avoid saying something that he might regret, sent her into uncontrollable fits of giggles. His eyes went wide before he, too, descended into laughter alongside her.

It may not have been exactly how she had wanted to cheer him up, with a failed experiment and a replacement treat from her brother. But that day, the laughter that resulted from it had been the comfort that both of them had needed for so long. And Elsie was more than happy to have been the one to put a genuine smile back on his face, mistake and all.

Burning a few treacle tarts was a small price to pay for bringing some light back into Sebastian's life. It was certainly well worth it.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy mc #elsie corvin #sebastian sallow x fmc #hl mc #fanfic #hl fanfic #hl fanfiction

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grumfield · 7 months ago

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more than antis i think it's because of people like you that 2ha is so hated. some proshippers love to reduce erha to just the s/e/xuaI as/sau/It. "erha is about a guy who keeps his master as a s/ex sIave mmmm delicious" when its so much more than that? and no im not trying to deny the blatant eroticization of noncon or the fact that meatbun clearly has a fetish or sanitize 2ha. but along with all this, she still narratively takes the responsibility to emphasize thoroughly how brutal, horrifying and undeserving was what happened to chu wanning. mo ran loathes himself for it as well. but deranged people like you will reduce it to & endorse the s/e/x/uaI a/ssauI/t. but then again, proshippers like you must be too desensitized to such portrayals because that's probably all or most of what you guys consume.

Lmao. Lol, even.

Reduce it? It *is* it. “I’m not trying to deny the blatant eroticism”/“I’m not denying that meatbun has a fetish” YES YOU ARE!! YOU ARE, DAWG? Did you even read the book? Did you just not pay attention to the main themes especially with Mo Ran’s entire character??? You can’t pick and choose what you do and don’t approve of from this story, just like you can’t have Mo Ran without having TXJ. They’re one and the same.

Meatbun relishes those tropes and content she writes just as much as she meditates on it and encourages the audience should do the same.

I’ve been here since 2019 I don’t give a fuck I’ve seen it all I got doxxed for this story. What pisses me off to absolutely no end is that this take comes from this complete inability to acknowledge that a story can be multiple things at once or have dialogue about something meaningful while still being indulgent and campy and scratch some kink itch, and that people can’t be the same about it. 2ha is just as much of an extremely classic set of “smexy dubcon yaoizz” with all the facets of that genre and trope as it is a thought piece on those tropes, and it’s expected that you engage with it on that level.

2ha is the teacher student time travel sex slave yaoi. I’m the first to say it’s also more than that but I’m emphasizing ALSO. Denying that denies what it is and denies the meaning you can extrapolate from it. It’s special to me because it’s one of the more interesting explorations of consent and desire and is unique it that because it goes absolutely whole ham with the tropes and then rips the rug out from under you rather than simply deconstructing them. It’s the “yes and” of fictional consent discussions.

I mean there’s the very baseline “chu wanning consent/desire” plotline but then it hits you with the exploration of mo ran and consent and what happened to him in general, about the relationship between poverty and desire/consent, about empathy and consent, and more, and like holy shit this is SO BALLER and literally ONLY WORKS. ONLY WORKS if it also functions on a baseline surface level as dubcon yaoi because a dubcon yaoi serves as the ultimate framework for exploring the complications, and grey areas of consent and desire.

Anyways. My flippancy when discussing some parts of the story is not from some fundamental misunderstanding of the plot, it comes from a complete understanding of it. Go watch Bluey or smth if you can’t handle talking about Yaoi like it’s Yaoi

#how the hell you gonna be having pro/anti discourse about 2HA?? ABOUT 2HA??#I wasn’t gonna dignify this with an actual response but dude…

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toxicroyjamie · 1 year ago

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pleaseeee give us more bigender jamie thoughts the concept is too good

Bigender Jamie my beloved….

He uses he/she pronouns <3 she doesn't mind they/them (pronouns are like. not very important to her honestly. she probably couldn’t tell you what a pronoun was if you asked LMAO) but she just doesn't really connect with gender neutrality/androgyny as much as she does with manhood and womanhood as separate and coexisting entities yk

When Jamie's super little, he starts asking Georgie why there are only boys and girls and he can't be both, and instead of jumping to tell him that's just the way it is (because she wants her bub to be a free thinker. obviously), she thinks about it for a while and is like. Well. I don’t know. I suppose you can be both if you’d like? And Jamie is like “ok :) yay :)” and runs with it

Georgie lets Jamie wear/do whatever he wants. She’s a very busy woman and simply has bigger things to worry about than her child wearing a pink shirt or whatever the fuck. As long as she can afford it, she'll buy it for him, because she's just trying to keep him happy and pay the bills yk

So Jamie amasses a small collection of what he calls “girl stuff," like these types of things

which he absolutely loves and has so much fun w. He's never pressured to identify any certain type of way or change anything about himself, always allowed to experiment, and he's very comfortable until he meets his dad

James starts coming around again when Jamie’s like 10ish, and he’s horrified by Georgie’s lax stance on masculinity and makes Jamie break/cut up/throw out her "girl stuff," because he doesn't think it's at all appropriate for his "son"

Having to destroy his favorite clothes and toys while his dad berates her is super traumatic and completely alters his perception of her gender/gender as a whole. When it was just him and Georgie, Jamie sort of took it for granted that he had room to experiment and didn’t realize that most people really don’t think it’s okay, and so it's a big shock and really forces her into the closet for a long time

Then she starts at the academy and everything around her is super masculine all the time, and she really tries put it behind her and convince herself that it was a phase and she doesn't have any need to indulge in that part of herself, since she's comfortable as a man and doesn't exactly feel disconnected from manhood

But as hard as he tries to convince himself otherwise, he always feels like he's missing part of himself. He's content with the life he's living and absolutely loves being one of the lads, but there's just something missing and it's undeniable and uncomfortable and always bubbling below the surface

So she's stuck in that limbo until she starts dating Keeley. He shows her an old picture where he’s wearing a Cinderella costume at daycare or something and tells her how he used to want to be “a girl and a boy at the same time” + about the “girl stuff” and how James made him destroy it, and he recounts the whole thing like it’s a funny story (because that’s just how he processes things) and is expecting Keeley to laugh with him, but she just gives him this really sad look and tells him she's sorry that happened to him and she hopes he feels comfortable expressing himself authentically with her

Which he doesn't at first, but he acclimates, because Keeley is willing to meet him halfway and work it out with him <3 She does his makeup on occasion and they experiment with phrases like "good girl" and "girlfriend" and even subtle public expressions of femininity like jewelry and nail polish and "women's" soap/shampoo, which Jamie really loves mixing with his generally masculine presentation

At one point Keeley asks her if she thinks she's a trans woman, and she's like. ":/ I don't think so, like I don't want to be a woman all the time, I just wish I could be a lady without having to give up being a lad 😔”

And Keeley of course is like "oh like bigender?"

She says it like it's nothing, but it's the first time Jamie's ever heard that and he had no idea that that was a real option and genuinely feels like he's found something he's been looking for his entire life and literally almost cries

(You can't spell "lady" without "lad" <3)

So Jamie starts to get Girl Stuff again (including some early-aughts nostalgia items identical to the things that James made her get rid of, which is very healing) and present the way she wants to present and has never ever been happier and finally feels whole

I have a LOT of thoughts about Jamie's gender identity and his relationship with Roy and the internal conflict/shame that would arise from that, but this post is already soooo long so you guys will have to let me know if you want me to talk about all that in another post

She's mostly pretty comfortable with her body, so she forgoes gender affirming surgeries, but she does start estrogen in her mid-late 20's, which is a game changer because it makes it easier to present feminine when she wants to while also allowing her to present masculine when she wants to

He doesn't really ever come out to the team, because that's not his style. They can figure it out on their own. (If you assume she's cis that's on you etc.) And they do!!! Dani starts calling her "amiga" on tuesdays thursdays and saturdays and "amigo" on mondays wednesdays and fridays or something like that lmaooo

He does come out to Georgie and Simon tho <3 Georgie is not surprised at all and takes to adding "baby girl" and "my daughter" to her repertoire very quickly, and at the end of the day she's the person whose opinion matters most to Jamie, so it's just a huge weight off his shoulders

(Simon makes her a bi flag cake and is like "love is love <3" and Jamie is like. Hm. Well. Thank you. You're a little lost but thank you)

#ask #jamie tartt #child abuse #transphobia #jamiegender #jeeley

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 1 month ago

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🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

yay! buddie canon in the fic and in the show!!! love how eddie is freaking out and buck just like kiss me again hottie. in shannon we trust 🙌🙌🙌 fixing the lawsuit divorce and completing the polycule!! i am NOT ready for the eddie begins/will chapter; jane will be born already, so will s + e put buck as guardian for both of them?!?!? love love love the power throuple💗💗💗

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️

ooooo…magical realism. silly evil billy boils you better kill t*mmy.

Thank you!!! And things will definitely go a little different in the throuple-verse for sure!

I want you to know I hand wrote this all on the plane.

1k for 🔼

---

Another small, nervous nod.

Wow.

Wow, wow, wow.

Buck isn’t sure how to process. He feels a lot of things. Not least of all, a little sexually frustrated. He doesn’t know what he wants, but he sure as hell wants something. His throat goes a little dry with all the wanting. He can see the humor in it, too. The irony. At first, it makes him want to laugh. But the more he lingers on it the less funny it seems.

“Wait a fucking second,” Buck says. “Shannon kissed me, and I spent hours thinking our friendship was over, meanwhile, the two of you screwed and made up?”

“Uh, sort of?” Eddie admits. “Sorry.”

“I knew you were in way too good of a mood that night. Wow. Unbelievable.”

“What should I have done, Buck? Called you and invited you over?”

“Well… Yeah!”

Eddie goes even redder. His eyes bug out a little. “I mean… I had no idea how you… That’s not fair.”

Buck sighs. Concedes. “Okay. You’re probably right.”

He’s had threesomes before. Quite a few in Peru, with two other servers at the resort. He and Ali had even discussed it. Might’ve looked into it, too. If she hadn’t left. But in all his adventures, he hasn’t done that with or considered doing that with one of the two other people being a man. He’s thinking about it now, though. He finds he quite likes the thought. He just…Yeah, mauve wouldn’t have reacted super well if Eddie called and pitched it to him. He sees Eddie’s point.

“Wait,” Buck realizes aloud. “Does this mean you and Shannon are back together?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No. It was just sex. A one off.”

Wasn’t just sex kind of what got Eddie and Shannon in quite a few predicaments to begin with? Maybe Buck won’t mention that.

“We had a long talk after,” Eddie says. “And one again today.”

“Oh… Oh, yeah?”

“This is where maybe I’m about to be a total selfish ass,” Eddie says. “Maybe.. Delusional? Greedy?”

What a way to sell whatever he’s about to say.

“Spit it out, man,” Buck pleads.

“She knows how I feel about you. And… And she said you and I being together wouldn’t be a dealbreaker for her… For her and I… If she ever… If we ever worked through our shit.”

Whoa.

“Uh…” Buck replies, unsure how to feel. It’s not exactly… Well, it isn’t quite a romantic declaration, is it? But Eddie already sort of did one of those. “Sorry. Um… Like an open marriage where I’m the… The side piece?”

Eddie looks horrified. “What? No!”

“Okay… Because that’s sort of what that sounded like.”\

“No! Buck, no. No… I… I don’t know how to explain it. We didn’t… There was no, uh, definition. But that’s not how I see you. Jesus. And I don’t want any sort of open anything.”

“Not open, but… Not monogamous?” Buck asks.

Eddie shrugs, clearly a little perplexed. “I don’t know! See? I told you it was bad. Greedy. I… I just love both of you. I don’t know what to do about it and I don’t if it even matters because she might never want me back and you don’t necessarily want me now.”

“I do,” Buck says.

Eddie sort of freezes. “You… You do?”

Buck nods. “I’m super fucking confused about a lot right now but that much seems really clear to me.”

Eddie’s shoulders sag forward, relieved.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. “Can I ask you something, though?”

“Of course,” Eddie replies.

“And this isn’t me asking for anything. It’s just… A mindset question, I guess.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods.

“If yours and Shannon’s positions were reversed, would you give her the same… I don’t know… Blessing?”

Eddie doesn’t answer Buck right away. He chews on it. Which scares Buck a little bit. Because, truth be told, Buck is fairly certain how he answers is going to determine a lot. Buck is willing to experiment. Try a lot. Think outside conventional structures. But the reason behind that experimentation has to be motivated from the right place. Right? Otherwise… He’s just asking to get hurt. Or be a part of hurting someone else. Which is worse. To him, it’s worse.

“Honestly?” Eddie asks.

Buck nods. Of course honestly He needs the truth about this.

“It would… It would hurt to not be a part of it. But… If I had to think of either of you with anyone else… Of someone else in my kids’ lives? I mean… Who better? Who else is… I don’t want to say good enough, but… Yeah?”

Okay. Okay, Buck… He thinks he can work with that.

“Can I talk to her about it?” Buck asks.

Eddie shrugs. “Not my decision.”

Right. Right, this isn’t a matter of Eddie is in charge and Buck and Shannon are both his. This is… Something else. Buck gets a strange sort of thrill in his stomach. Fear, maybe? But also anticipation? Excitement. Like there’s a very special locked door he;’s being given a chance to open. He sort of wants to walk through it without even looking.

“What are you… I mean, I know this is a lot. Believe me. I didn’t plan for this today at all,” Eddie says. “But can I ask what you’re thinking, maybe?”

Buck… Well, he’s thinking he actually doesn’t want to think so hard anymore. He’s still confused He’s still not clear on the arrangement. And maybe he should be. First. Precautionary measures or whatever. But it feels a lot like, maybe, just maybe, everyone here can get what they want.

“I’m thinking, you sort of owe me one,” he replies with a smug little smirk.

As expected, this throws Eddie for a loop.

“I… Owe you one?” He asks.

“Mhm,” Buck replies, voice low. He steps a bit closer to Eddie. “Because here I’ve been for months, feeling all this shame. About what happened with Shannon. About… About how I couldn’t shake it. And there you two were, knowing all the exciting parts without me.”

---

48 for ⚖️:

---

“You’re sure? Bobby asks.

Once, Buck would have taken it as a lack of faith in him. He understands Bobby a bit better now.

“Still catching up on sleep,” Buck admits. “But I’ll let you know if anything comes up. I promise.”

Bobby claps him on the shoulder.

“Okay. Glad to have you back, Buck.”

“Glad to be back.”

Buck, of course, cannot explain to Bobby the thing does that does come up. It defies explanation. He doesn’t even know how he’ll explain it to Eddie, when the time comes that he can. This is… Weird. Even as far as recent standards go.

They’re called to the scene of an accident. A woman drove into a telephone pole on a residential street. Her husband was beside her in the passenger seat. The injuries are minimal. The power on the block is out, the lines are down, and the couple needs help safely exiting the car.

It’s a nice car. Not that Buck knows much about that. That’s more Tommy’s domain. But when they arrive at the scene, Eddie whistles, looks at Chim, and makes a comment about it being a shame.

Buck knows something is off as soon as he sees the victims. Or, more specifically, their auras. The woman, the driver, is a muted sort of gray. Sort of a nothingness, overall. Not very memorable. But the husband? The husband has the same crimson aura as Lawrence and Tommy.

When he sees it, Buck actually hesitates for a second. Stuttering before moving to help him. Only Eddie seems to notice. Mauve because he’s noticing Buck notice people now, given what he knows.

“All good?” Eddie asks.

Buck mumbles a quick affirmative and gets to work.

The closer Buck gets, though, the stronger it gets. There’s a heavy sinking feeling in Buck’s arm. Like something pressing into his skin, right over the mystery tattoo. It’s distracting. Especially since it could be more curse bullshit.

#daisies and briars writes #buddie shannon throuple fic #an angry blade fic

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