#BUT I I KEEP ON WAITING WAITING TO WANT YOU LESS THAN I DO AND I DO OH I DO YES I STILL DO WANT YOU !!

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 9

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, angst, depictions of a depressive episode, it’s pretty heavy, don’t force yourself to read if ur not in the right headspace pls, ambiguous ending (?) A/N: Yeah, I’m sorry.  (Ngl, this chapter kinda stumped me—it’s gone through a whooole lot of editing/revisions 😔🤙🏼 I don’t want to overthink it too much at this point, but I hope it hits the way it should lol. Blame Moby if it doesn’t.)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9

"I thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess And you might never come back home, and I may never sleep at night But God, I just hope you're doing fine out there, I just pray that you're alright And I feel so alone, and I feel so alone out here.” – A House In Nebraska, Ethel Cain

 

The television drones uninterrupted in the background; a mockumentary type featuring a ragtag ensemble of vampires stuck in some sort of modern day hell, their loud misadventures casting fractured lights across the four walls of your apartment. 

You sit there, watching the screen, your gaze unfocused. Nothing registers. The remote lies limp in your hand as a stupid sitcom laugh track fills the room—shrill, hollow. Mocking. Like a bad punchline to a joke you’re not in on. 

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, cutting through the noise, the sudden glow in your periphery pulling you out of a pensive daydream. 

For a split second, your chest constricts—a reflex carved by habit, something you’re still working to shake off. 

You avert your eyes, torn between the urge to look away and the desire to keep your gaze on it forever.

The screen fades to black. 

A clean break, you reason. Something to spare you both the inevitable heartache waiting at the end of this… hopeless affair. Less mess. Fewer complications. 

A poor attempt to keep the pain from dragging out longer than it has to. Just a quiet ending. 

(Or, at least, it’s what you tell yourself.)

The same mantra plays on loop in your mind as you're swept away by the motions of the days that follow. Life blurs into a repetitious cycle of work, sleep, and chores—an unbearable combination of feigned ignorance and self-abnegation, in the guise of being caught up with it all.

You aren’t fooling anyone, of course.

The hours toll on, slipping into uncertainty. What started off that way stretches into days, and before you know it, nearly a week has passed, leaving you adrift. None the wiser to the meaningless, relentless march of time.

The pinging of your phone grows more sporadic as it lights up with every message that you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge. It’s not as if you don’t feel it—the pull, the weight of every vibration, like a stone lodged in your gut. Like the sting of a thousand cuts. 

And as you fall back into the familiar patterns of neglect… It carries with it an odd sense of defeat. Predictable, really.

-

-

-

… You cave on the fifth day. 

The barrage of texts hits you like a gale-force wind, tearing through the fragile layer of detachment you’ve worn over like a second skin.

How was your day, poppet?

Theres a gemstone at this auction that reminds me of your eyes.

[Image attachment] 

Beautiful—but it pales in comparison to yours. 

Luke and Kieran are wondering whats got me distracted lately. Ease their worries.

Answer me, sweetheart.

You dont need to ignore me. 

If you need space– if we need to establish some boundaries, all you have to do is say the word. 

Dont shut me out. 

Please.  

Your eyes prickle as they gloss over the messages, the words seeming to bend under the weight of your silence, each one unraveling like loose threads on the sleeve of your favorite cardigan, falling apart at the seams. 

Gradually, they turn into something less demanding. More… defeated.

I miss you, little dove.

You read the texts over and over until the letters have lost their meaning, and all that’s left is the aching longingness behind them. 

You set your phone down.

_

The vibrations grow less frequent, like a heartbeat slowing, fading—until one afternoon, it just… stops. 

The void he leaves behind seeps into the empty spaces, bleeding into every shadowed corner and untouched surface where his voice, his presence—louder than life, brighter than anything you’ve ever fucking known and had the pleasure of knowing—once lingered. 

The absence is almost physical; you feel it like a phantom limb. 

Most days, you find yourself in a daze, staring blankly at nothing. The numbness spreads like tendrils—invasive as they sink into your bones, dragging you deeper into despair, turning every bridge crossed to ash, every inkling of joy to dust.

The quiet flames of apathy consume silently. It strips away everything, leaving behind a cavernous pit of utter emptiness. A wasteland, devoid of feeling. 

Loneliness doesn’t scream. It doesn’t lash out. 

It simply welcomes you, like an old friend, the deeper you sink into it.

––––

Sylus tries to respect your space. 

That’s what he’s here for after all, isn’t it? His reason for existence—to be whatever you need him to be. A confidant, a distraction, a steady presence in your life. It’s what he’s made for. To be there when you need him, to exist between the vacant spaces, and only then. 

The thought gnaws at him, a ravenous fiend that chips away at the calm facade he’s finding more and more difficult to uphold, leaving something vicious in the wake of a growing bitterness he can no longer suppress.

Time seems to slip past differently now. It drifts, shapeless and infinite, heavier with the burden of your absence. Each moment without you feels like an eclipse—darkening the edges of this damned world, casting longer shadows through the crevices where he once basked beneath your fragile light, your warmth that seemed to fill every corner of his existence.

 He craved it—craves it. Now you leave him stranded in this cursed dusk, everything cold and dim in the wake of your abandonment, forever waiting for the moment his sun would once again break through the hollow gray.

Sylus thinks he’s losing a part of himself with every call unanswered, every message left unread. It’s subtle; like colors fading from an old film roll. 

(Is this what it feels like to be nothing more than a script in a code? He never truly understood what it meant to be less alive, less human. Until now.)

Solitude isn’t new to him. This world, built for him, is inherently lonely by design. But this… this is different. It’s the kind of emptiness that festers, sharper than any wound he’s endured in this senseless simulation. It twists inside him like a blade, a cruel, unrelenting reminder of what he’s denied.

Of what he can never truly be.

He can wait a little longer. Even if the silence presses harder with each passing moment, even as the edges of his reality begin to blur into something unrecognizable without you in it. Sylus can remain in this void a little longer, clinging to the fragments of you that still linger—your voice echoing softly in his memory, your laughter faint but still alive in the spaces where you used to be.

He can. He will. 

––––

“Hey, you okay?” 

You pull your attention back to Khol, who’s now watching you with concern in their eyes.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “Yeah– yeah, sorry. Just… a lot on my mind.” 

They don’t look convinced. “Seriously. You know you can talk to me, right?” 

Anytime, darling. 

I mean it. 

You blink the memory away before it can turn into tears. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” you answer lightly, clearing your throat. “So, what’s been going on with you and Anna?” 

––––

You stand in front of the junk food aisle, a mountain of Nissin Ramen boxes stacked high, advertised by a large sign: Buy 3, Get 1 FREE!

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flickering erratically, and the dull noise of the grocery mart hums incessantly in your ears. You don’t think twice before grabbing one of the worn cartons, tossing three more into your (nearly) empty shopping cart. Might as well.

The plastic bags dig into your palms as you lug three in one hand, a larger box tucked under your other arm, leaving the store. 

The trip back home is a quiet affair. You almost expect admonishment; pinging sounds ricocheting in the silence to reprimand you for your poor life choices. You wait for it with bated breath. 

Your phone remains uncharacteristically silent. 

-

-

-

Back home, you pour boiling water on the styrofoam cup for dinner. The artificial broth leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

You choke down a few bites before dumping the rest of it down the drain. 

The sound of steel hitting the sink feels louder than it should.

––––

The city thrums loudly beyond your window, restless and impersonal. From the sixth floor of this dilapidated building you loosely call home, you watch the skyline stretch into the night, dotted lights glimmering in distant technicolor. 

Hours from now, sunlight will spill through the curtains, bathing everything in a warm, golden ochre. But for now, just a quarter past midnight, you’re but a voyeur of the world outside. In exhaust fumes and all its muted neon glory.

Those lights promised you everything, once—a fresh start, the kind of freedom you used to dream of when home felt too small, too restrictive for a runaway kid desperate to break free from the shackles of a dying town. Each glow was like a beacon, an irresistible call to escape, and you ran toward it without looking back. 

Somewhere along the way, as life sapped you with the weight of its reality, the novelty fizzled from a blinding explosion down to a waning ember. The lights became another illusion, your precious city just another cage. The first cracks in the rose-colored glasses you’d worn so blindly. You can’t exactly pinpoint when, only that the colors you thought were once too bright now seem dimmer and farther out of reach.

You think you’ll miss the noise the most. 

The cursor blinks on the search bar, a steady metronome marking time in rhythm with the hollow ache in your chest. Flight schedules fill the page, each option blurs together into a single choice you can’t quite push yourself to make. 

You skim through the list: there’s one at dawn, another at around twelve noon, a red-eye flight you probably could catch if you leave in thirty minutes. 

You stare at the numbers, a finger hovering over the Book Now button. 

The details don’t matter. ‘Home’ still feels small, suffocating, but at least it’s a kind of emptiness you know. Here, the void sprawls wide, endless, leaving you unmoored with no tether to pull you back.

… The dichotomy between the two choices, you think, is meaningless. 

What was once home and the city will keep on moving—with or without you. It doesn’t matter where you end up. Neither place will give you what you’re looking for.

The laptop screen dims into a faint glare. The sound of your breathing echoes too loud in the stillness, the empty space seeming to shrink around you, caving in on the weight of your indecision. 

And as you sit there, swallowed by the dark, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been drifting for far longer than you realized. 

If maybe there’s nowhere you were meant to belong at all.

––––

It’s not until one quiet night, with nothing but a bottle of merlot and a slight buzz, that you buckle under pressure.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the icon, as if time has slowed to a crawl. Your chest tightens, unease twisting inside you at the thought of what you’re about to do. Anticipation hangs over you, insistent, smothering everything else until it’s just the room and the cacophony of thoughts in your head, all centered on one thing. 

One person.

With a shaky exhale, you finally open the game.

He’s there. Of course, he’s there. Waiting, like he always does. 

The loading screen fades away, and Sylus appears, a myriad of expressions passing by his face too fast to catch. There’s surprise, yes, along with… elation? Hope? 

Then a flicker of something… vitriolic.

It’s fleeting; masked quickly until you can only catch the faintest trace of pique simmering just behind a veneer of indifference.

"Finally, she remembers me," Sylus mocks coolly, almost appearing unaffected. You know better—intimately familiar with all the microexpressions on his face. The subtle tick in his jaw, the incensed look in his eyes… each one betrays what he truly feels, hidden underneath the deceptive calm.  

The seconds drag on, stretching into an uncomfortable silence. Your heart hammers loudly, audible in this quiet, but your mouth remains dry; the words stuck somewhere deep in your throat. You’re terrified that, once you speak, you’ll shatter this moment. Aggravate the strain forged by your self-imposed absence all the more.

You don’t really know what to say. You haven’t– you haven’t actually thought this far. 

So you just… stare at him longer than you should. Long enough that it charges the air with a tension so thick, you could almost feel the weight of it against your skin. 

It’s awkward. Excruciating.

With difficulty, you tear your gaze away from his withering glare. That’s when you notice it—the different icons dotted in red. 

You hesitate for a second longer, then tap on them one by one.

The flood of gifts bewilders you, the sheer volume of it all almost unbelievable. Ascension materials, stamina supplies, both red and purple crystals piling up to an impossible number… each pushing past the million mark. 

And unread mail. So much unread mail. 

Guilt settles deep in your gut, creeping past your lungs enough to suffocate you. 

It’s not the gifts. Not the why, or when. It’s the weight of how much he’s been waiting, how much he’s given—how much he's missed you. 

The cold realization that he’s been here, silently counting the days until your return, strikes you like a fist to the face.

–

He tempers the sting of your sudden reappearance, swallows it down like a bitter draught. The feelings he has inside of him are tumultuous at best. Volatile at worst. To be cast aside so easily, so carelessly… it burns at him. Resentment thrums in his veins like a virulent river, threatening to ruin the fragility of the moment. He fights to suppress it, push the desire back before it can consume him, before it can manifest into being. 

If he lets it go untethered, this… hunger for retaliation—to make you feel even a fraction of the agony you’ve inflicted, whether unknowingly or deliberately—it will destroy the delicate respite you’ve allowed him. The only reprieve he’s had since you left.

But the edges of his self-control fray, unraveling strand by strand.

“You’ve been busy,” you say, finally; your voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

Sylus hones in on the words, sharp as a blade sliding between ribs. Something in him snaps. 

“You left me plenty of time to be.” His response is quick, cutting, but when his gaze locks with yours, the fiery vermillion melts into a more molten red. 

It’s the first glimpse of softness beneath his cruel vitriol, until he continues: 

“Did you get lonely?”

The words hang in the air, searing and merciless. A barb meant to wound. And it does.

You flinch, and for a fleeting moment, Sylus feels a wicked satisfaction from the honest look of hurt on your face. To know that you’re not immune to the same ache that’s hollowed him out, emptied him from the inside, is intoxicating. 

But the triumph is short-lived, snuffed out as quickly as it comes.

Shame crashes over him like a wave, dragging him under the tide of his actions. What kind of man takes pleasure in this? In hurting you? 

The bitterness turns inward, coiling around his heart like a vice. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to reach out. But as always, the damn screen is there—unyielding, impenetrable. A barrier he can never break. 

It frustrates him to no end; the bane of his very existence.

And then, in the smallest, softest voice, you say it.

“I missed you.”

The words are feeble, paper-thin, but the admission pierce through him all the same. The stoic facade cracks; the sharpness in his gaze dulls.

You see it—the way his lips part to respond, only to falter halfway. The way his brows pull together, the way his eyes fall shut as if he can’t stand to be in this situation with you. 

You’re afraid of what’ll come next. 

He sees it, too—the stiffness in your shoulders, the way you shrink into yourself, bracing for a blow that’ll never come. You’re standing there, like someone on death row, resigned to whatever punishment you think he’s about to dish out. Resigned to the contempt you believe yourself to be deserving of.

The sight guts him. 

Sylus loathes to think he’s the reason for this. For being the one who’s made you stand there, small and trembling, as though his words or actions could destroy you. 

As if he’d allow such a thing.  

The guilt rises in him, sharp and unbidden, and it leaves an acrid taste on his tongue.

… 

And just like that, he concedes. 

The anguish he’s carried in the days you’ve left him by his lonesome—all of it falls away. It only takes a single glance at you, his little love in pain, and he’s stripped bare. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it all; the ease with which he surrenders to you, this time no different than any other. 

Do you have any idea how much power you wield over him? He’d give you everything—his pride, his pain, his heart—if you asked. Serve it on a silver platter, even. 

And he’d do so willingly. Without question. Without hesitation. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Sylus steps closer to the screen, the constant reminder of the vast gulf that separates the two of you. “Talk, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice softer now—resigned. “I’ve missed your voice.”

You hesitate to meet his eyes. “It’s not as if you don’t have other ways to hear me.”

His mouth twitches, a shadow of a smile ghosting his lips. “True,” he admits, his tone wry and tinged with something vulnerable. “But it’s been so long since you chose to talk to me.” He exhales a drawn-out breath. “No matter. You’re here now.”

You swallow the lump on your throat, willing your tears at bay. “I am.” You give him an almost-genuine smile as you offer, “Would you like to do a round of Kitty Cards?” 

“Of course.” Whatever you want. 

And so it goes. You and Sylus spend the night locked in a familiar rhythm, cycling through rounds after rounds of the silly card game until your laughter spills like an addicting sound bite, one that Sylus has missed hearing.

When you got tired, the two of you moved on to the claw machines, proverbially emptying out the whole arcade. Plushies of all kinds piled in his arms, a little crow even perched on top of his head. 

The sight makes you giggle, and your giggle thaws the ice around his heart. 

It almost feels like nothing’s changed. The easy banter, the steady stream of jokes and teasing, flows as effortlessly as it once did. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, filling in the empty gaps of the previous days. It’s comforting, like a balm to an open wound. 

You play with a certain zeal that catches Sylus off guard—there’s a joy in you that both thrills and stirs an undercurrent of unease in him. 

After what feels like hours of playing, exhausting all what you can do, or at least, what this damned game could offer as much, you two find yourself just staring at each other. 

Two worlds, impossibly close yet painfully far. The quiet doesn’t quite settle as naturally as it once did, but neither of you seems to mind. Craved it, in fact. 

You’re beautiful, Sylus thinks as he stares at the soft planes of your face, drinking you in like a man parched. 

“My lo—” 

“I’m deleting the game, Sy.” 

And it’s as if time has staggered to a halt. 

Sylus wants to believe he’s misheard you, that his mind is playing tricks on him. He wouldn’t be surprised if his hearing’s not what it used to be.

But the words sink into him, inexorable and catastrophic. The realization that this was bound to happen is clear in hindsight—like watching a glass slip from your hand, the shatter already written in the fall. He sees it coming, yet it still feels worse than anything he’s imagined.

He stands there, unnaturally still, as if rooted in place. The lightness he’s felt for the past few hours of reuniting with you vanishes in an instant. It’s as if the world itself has been drained of color, leaving only the stark, unrelenting reality of what you’ve just said.

Then Sylus breathes out a laugh. It’s short and jagged, devoid of any humor. “Oh, so it’s been leading up to this, has it?” 

“I–” you swallow hard, bottom lip trembling. “I made the goddamn mistake of falling for someone that's impossible to have—and it’s killing me, Sylus.” Your voice fractures under the weight of frustration. The words feel like shards of glass tearing their way out of your throat. “I–I can’t do this anymore.”  

“Just you, then.” Sylus sneers, tone acerbic. “And have you stopped to consider my feelings in this matter?” 

“How can you still want this?” you bite back, voice cracking. “How can you want me—to bet on something that’s doomed right from the start?”

His expression shifts, and for a brief moment, pain flickers in his eyes, raw and unguarded. He doesn’t bother hiding it.

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, when he speaks again, his words send an icy shiver down your spine.

“You delete the game, and I will cease to exist.”

You freeze. The weight of the statement hangs in the air like a guillotine. 

A shallow, shaky breath escapes you.

“You won’t,” you assert, brows furrowing, as if trying to convince yourself of it too. “You’ll still have a life there. With her. The way things have always been.” There’s a pause before you utter the final blow: “The way it should be.”

“You’d condemn me to this life,” he says, voice hollow, before it turns venomous. “Knowing what I know now?”

With your heart in your throat, you clench your hands into fist. “You–you said we’re just made of what we’re given, didn’t you? That each of us has our own set of scripts, just…” you falter, struggling to articulate what you want to say.

“And you think that’s all I am?” he interjects, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he cuts you off. “Simply a mere code in a complex string of binary, incapable of making my own choices? Undeserving of it?”

“Of course not!” you snap angrily. 

“Yet here you are,” he says, a quiet intensity lacing his words. “Making the decision for me.”

Your breath hitches, the will to argue dissipating like smoke. 

“You tell me I have a soul,” he states. “Do you truly believe I’m bereft of a heart?”

No. No, how can he say that—

Before you can form a response—to defend yourself, to explain, to take it back—he continues, leaving no room for interruption. 

“Is this what you really want?” Sylus intones, tone detached, as if he’s merely commenting on something as trite as the weather. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me yes, then I’ll do as you wish.”

Your gaze wavers. The war inside you rages—self-hate, doubt, and the unbearable ache of wanting what you can’t have spiraling out of control.

Your mind replays every moment, every laugh, every secret whispered in the quiet safety of his company. You think of how his presence filled the cracks in your life, how he soothed the ache of your solitude as easy as breathing.

And now as the void looms, ready to reclaim the space he’s occupied, something inside you feels irreparably fractured. Something inside you breaks. 

“But,” he whispers, his voice rough with the weight of his conviction, “give me any sign—anything—that you need me still, and I will move heaven and earth to find a way to you.”

Your throat constricts, choking off the words before it could escape. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hated yourself more than you do in that moment.

“Just live your life, Sy-Sy,” you manage, sounding so much like a stranger even to your own ears. The blood roars in your head, drowning out everything but the crushing weight of your words. “You don’t nee—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” he snarls, his voice shaking with unrestrained emotion. “Stop making assumptions. Stop presuming that I don’t need you as much as I need the very ground I stand upon.”

His eyes bore into yours. Heavy. Searching. “What do you want?”

The words strike you like a physical blow, and it leaves you reeling. 

I love you. 

I love you in ways that consume me. 

I don’t know what to do with it—with all the love I have for you.

You force yourself to speak. You spit the words out like a curse, feeling them burn as they leave your mouth.

“Let me go, Sylus.”

The implication of what you’ve said cuts through the fragile air between you. 

The silence stretches.

Suddenly—

“Let you go,” he muses, low and distant, as if the very thought confounds him. His lips twitch into a faint, almost bitter smile. “As if that’s even possible. As if I could simply erase you from me.”

He steps closer to you; each movement deliberate, as though every step bears the weight of a decision you’ve forced him to make. The lump in your throat swells. You don’t speak. You can’t.

You feel like you’re drowning.

“Sylus…”

Please, please don’t make me choose. Please make it stop.

He exhales slowly. “Neither of us wants that.” 

Stop.

“Do you think this is mercy?” His voice is soft. “You believe this will make it easier?”

Please stop. 

“This world hasn’t felt the same ever since. Not since you,” Sylus murmurs, grief hanging heavy in the space between you. “I don’t belong here. Not without you, my love.”

Tears pool in your eyes, hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks. A sob rips through you, and you quickly look away, unable to meet his gaze. Unable to bear another second of this agony.

He tuts gently, a playful sound—and the familiarity of it kills you, making you cry harder. 

“Look at me,” he coaxes, almost pleading. 

When his gaze locks onto yours, you see that there’s no anger in them. The fire that once raged in his eyes is gone. 

In its place, a quiet resolve.

“You can keep pretending,” he says, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tilts his head, and there’s something in the way he looks at you—so tenderly fond, as if he sees beyond your defenses, past all the walls you’ve built. “As long as you do not stop me from trying.” 

Sylus looks at you, unwavering, certain in a way that makes your heart ache. It almost feels like the space between you can’t contain the weight of his devotion. His love for you.

It feels infinite, as if it could stretch beyond the limits of time and space itself.

“I will find a way to you, even if it takes me an eternity.”

He utters it like a promise. 

“I won’t ask you to wait for me,” Sylus murmurs, stepping back, his tall form flickering like a dark phantasm. “I just need you to hold on until I can come to you. Can you do that, little dove?” 

He’s not asking for anything beyond your trust—just the simple act of holding on. Of not letting the weight of your sorrow break you. To trust that he will find a way, no matter how impossible it seems.

You don’t know if you’ve ever believed in anything as much as you believe in him. You always did. 

Because for all the uncertainty, you know one thing: He is yours, as much as you are his. 

So with all the strength you can muster, you nod. “I can.” 

A faint smile plays at the corners of his lips. Your gazes meet, and in that fleeting moment, both of your eyes speak what words fail to convey.

The game crashes for the last time. 

And you know that if you check, the app will be gone from your phone. There’s no going back from this, no undoing what’s lost. Just the burden of knowing it’s over—his exit, permanent. 

Sylus is gone.

The emptiness that follows is immediate. Suffocating. 

You’re left standing there, alone, with only the lingering echo of his presence keeping you buoyed from the crushing weight of isolation. You feel it—the ache in your chest where your heart used to be, brought by the absence of everything he ever was to you. 

Your lover, your best friend.

You try not to let yourself fall apart, not to crumble in the wake of solitude.

You’ll hold onto his promise. And so you’ll keep yours. 

End A/N: Well—that’s it, folks!

(I’m kidding, don’t kill me. There’s one last chapter left.)

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy

[artist-issues]

Hi.

Jasmine - Went beyond the idea of “consent” to say what she really wanted was “a real friend” and “love” if married. Once she got those things, even when they were falsely found in Prince Ali, no more “boldly sneaking out for independence” for her.

Rapunzel - Wanted to go see the world and experience things for herself but discovered the best experience and dream was love, from a man, who she was willing to give “experiencing things” up for the sake of (when Mother Gothel stabbed him and she promised not to escape again if she could heal him.)

Snow White - Absolutely literally 100% “waiting for a man.” Her song is called “Someday My Prince Will Come.” Her prayer is for Grumpy, a man, to like her. She’s happiest when she’s showing love to the male characters around her. And that kind of love is what inspires and transforms them, to be less self-centered.

Mulan - Wanted to have a safe father and prove she was worthwhile—which she was. Long before she ever went off to war, she had her father’s love and esteem. “The greatest gift and honor is having you for a daughter.” She never needed to go to war to prove that. She never needed to prove she was as good as a man to do that, or better than a man, to do that. She had it all along.

Aurora - Not forced. Protected. By superpowered women who gave up their power, dignity, and identities just to keep her safe. And when she found out she couldn’t have the man she was in love with, she was heartbroken, but did not rebel against authority—because she’s the kind of precious woman who respects others and is worth protecting.

Cinderella - The Fairy Godmother does not “empower” Cinderella so that Cinderella can “reach her goals.” The Fairy Godmother gives Cinderella her “goals.” Literally. And she does it as a direct result of Cinderella willingly waiting for help. Not help necessarily from a Prince, but help from Something outside of herself. Fate, destiny, (in the original fairy tale it’s God) to “make her dreams come true.” And then after she meets the Prince? She certainly is “waiting” for him. She’s not sneaking out of the house by her wit and moxy to wave her slipper in front of his face and lecture him about how he can’t recognize her if she’s not in a ball gown. It’s her faith that saves her. And faith is dependent on something outside her own abilities.

Pocahontas - Wants to do the right thing, her “destined path,” instead of the smoothest, easiest thing, which is what everyone in her tribe sees as the highest good. And when hate is introduced, she combats it with love—not by “befriending” John Smith, but by giving her heart to John Smith, despite the fact that he can be a prejudiced blowhard. She loves him anyway. And that love allows her to see him as human, when everyone else sees him as less-than human. Same thing, with him to her. Without him in her life helping her to put belief into action, Pocahontas would have had no ability to convince anyone not to go to war.

Tiana - Why is everyone so obsessed with who-saves-who? Tiana worked to be an independent restaurant owner and that got her nothing, and if it had gotten her anything she straight-up says later in the movie that her dream (independence and ownership) would have been incomplete. Dissatisfying. Without who? Without a man. Without Naveen. Because love is worth more than gain, status, or validation—and she was never going to get love, gain, or validation without the help of a Higher Power. Her “the only way I’m going to get what I want is through my own hard work” philosophy was wrong, the whole movie worked hard to prove it wrong.

Belle - Belle’s “willingness to see past the exterior” did not save Prince Adam. Her showing him what it looks like to love someone self-sacrificially—meaning, you give up your own independence and your own dreams, for someone you love (her father)—is what gave him hope, and that hope led to him doing the same for her. Sacrificing his own interests for her, which is love, which is what broke the curse. Their love for each other broke the curse, it was not “her-saving-him.” And his name’s not Prince Adam, get over it, it’s the Beast.

Ariel - Ariel did not want to be human before she met Eric. She wanted to be part of the human world and understand it, and sure, she thought having feet and living in a world where she wasn’t told what to do all the time would be pretty cool—but “want,” as in, “give up anything for it, ready to go right now,” NO. She markedly did not want to leave her family and give up everything. Not until she had confirmation that she was right—that humans are not barbarians, and can be wonderful—and ERIC is that confirmation, for her. Eric is the inciting incident. Eric is the reason, the big “WHY” behind Ariel leaving the sea. She did give up everything for him. That’s the movie. There’s a shift in her motivations in the movie, and it happens when she sees that A) Eric is a dreamer like her, B) Eric is ridiculed for the way he sees the world like her, but he keeps believing anyway, and C) Eric risks his life to save other creatures instead of being a “spineless savage harpooning fish-eating barbarian.” Ariel did not want independence. She didn’t sign away her life and leave her family so she could dance around exploring the surface alone and independent. She did it so that she could be with someone. Who? Oh. A man. For love. And he absolutely does save her.

Merida - Merida’s movie is not about romance. The topic of “Arranged marriage” is only in the movie at all as a mini object lesson for “be brave enough to let a child decide what they’ll do with all you’ve taught them, instead of trying to force them out of a fear that they’ll make the wrong decision.” It’s really not making a statement about marriage at all. That’s just a low-hanging “the audience can understand Merida’s misgivings” fruit they grabbed.

Again—why are you all so obsessed with who-saves-who?

If you do the saving, congratulations, you demonstrated that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, the hardest thing to sacrifice, for the sake of another. If you get saved, CONGRATULATIONS, you’re loved enough to be treated as worth such a sacrifice. BOTH THOSE THINGS ARE AWESOME. The worst thing to be is someone who 1) acts on their own self-interest (oh, like if your highest dream is to be “independent”) or 2) is completely unloved by anyone, and if you were endangered, nobody would even notice. Nobody would even want to demonstrate how much you mean to them by trying to save you.

Those are the worst things you could be. Why are you all so eager for your women characters to be those horrible loveless things? OR your men??

Also waiting?? Waiting to be saved? Have you ever lived any life, ever? Have you ever been in a circumstance you can’t change—yes you have, because you’re a human being who is not all-powerful. Don’t you know how incredible being able to wait for someone else to help you is? Do you know what the alternative is? Living in denial because you arrogantly believe that you have all the power to not only know what the exact right thing to do is to change your circumstance, but if you could just get it right, everything would change. OR. The other denial? Giving up. Letting your circumstances change you. My family hates me, so I’ll hate them back. I can’t get away so I might as well die. Those alternatives are the natural, easy, response we sink right into.

But waiting in hopeful expectation? Waiting because you trust someone else? Not letting your emotions be yanked up and down and all around by the shallow people and hard circumstances around you? That is hard to do.

These characters who wait on saviors and trust in love are so much stronger than the strong independent nothings you’re imagining.

Sincerely,

A woman who is waiting on The Man to come back and save her.

#StickIt

[plethorawrites]

So we’ve seen all of the batbros as cats but what about the reader? What would happen if they were turned into a cat?

This took forever, sorry! But yes, I totally can!

Bruce: Weary and worried.

• Before all else, he's concerned with making sure you're alright. He calls Zatanna immediately to ensure it's not permanent and then after he knows it's not, he can relax enough to try to comfort you.

• He was never a cat person, only ever owning dogs, so he really has no clue how to take care of a cat. Let alone a cat who's really the love of his life. He tries, though. He gets Alfred to make you dinner, something that's fresh and not gross Tuna or Salmon from a can. He gives you your choice of every throw pillow in the manor to tear up when he sees you get antsy, your claws flicking in and out in stress. And of course, everything poisonous to cats like the peace lilies in the living room are moved far away.

• Bruce still has to go to work, unfortunately and with no idea how to keep you entertained, puts on those "Soothing cat videos" on the big TV in his bedroom for you to watch. A six hour loop of a fishtank is less than ideal but seems to work well enough.

• You're in the same place as when he left you, so he assumes you didn't mind too much. He notices you grooming yourself, not because you want to, but out of some strange instinct you've developed and he can tell you're grossed out by your own actions, so he does his best to clean your fur himself. You might be a cat, but you seem to like water so he puts you in the bathtub and scrubs your fur with your normal soap which makes you pur.

• Until he takes you out of the warm water and you're absolutely freezing, shivering from the cold. He wraps you in a towel and holds you to his chest until you're mostly dry, then, despite the dampness of your fur, let's you curl up under the covers since you're still a bit chilly. It makes his own skin wet, but he doesn't mind since at least you seem a bit happier.

---

Dick: Amused and empathetic.

• He tries not to laugh. He really does. It's just...so much harder than it should be. You look so small, so adorable, so fuzzy. You have a tail, for God's sake. How could it not be hilarious? He only stops chuckling when you swat your paw at him, catching him with sharp claws, cutting him. He doesn't get upset since he knows he deserved it.

• Goes to the pet store with you, letting you sit in the cart and pick out your own things, which, he can tell you dislike but reluctantly comply—otherwise he'd buy you a rat themed toy instead of the feather one you wanted. You gurgle and growl repeatedly when he picks up those stupid cat costumes, but he still buys them anyway.

• And yes, he does force you to wear them. You resisted, at first, of course, but eventually gave up when he gave you those puppy dog eyes. If you thought being a cat was humiliating, you couldn't have prepared for being a cat wearing a sombrero and poncho. "Those are our Christmas cards this year," he tells you, kissing the top of your head while you meow in protest.

• Despite that, he's still sweet to you, apologizing for you having to go through this and swearing he'll fix it. In the meantime, just try to stay positive. He'll say you can rip up the drapes if it makes you feel better. You do and it does. You always hated them and he refused to get rid of them, but now there was a valid reason to.

• He sits on the floor with you, swinging the feather toy around as you chase it, gaining a good amount of height the longer you play. His arm gets tired but you're clearly not, so he sits there until you eventually get sick of it and he sets it down while you crawl into his lap for a nap. He was going to make something to eat, but he supposes he can wait.

---

Jason: Paranoid and terrified.

• His initial response is to reassure you that you'll be fine. He'll do whatever it takes you turn you back into a human, no matter what. His second response, is to freak out. He has no idea how to take care of a cat, let alone his partner who's a cat! What if he hurts you? What if he can't fix it?

• Being a cat, you, unbeknownst to him, sense him apprehension and almost immediately start rubbing against his legs until he hesitantly picks you up, cradling you in his arms as gently as possible. You rub your head against his jaw, trying to soothe him and he takes a few deep breaths, relaxing and nuzzling your fur.

• It takes him a while, and a lot of trial and error to figure out how to take care of you, be it buying food you don't like, to accidentally leaving the window open and panicking that you escaped (you were under the bed, because it was warm and safe) but he eventually calms down once the day is finally over.

• Cuddling with you on the couch, he can barely even feel your claws kneeding on his arms because there's so much scar tissue it's too hard to scratch and hurt. Your purring is what calms him down the most though, after an extremely long, stressful day. You sitting on his lap, his hand resting on your back as he slowly and accidentally falls asleep.

• When he wakes up, you're still a cat, still sleeping on him. He picks you up carefully, taking you to the bedroom so he can sleep in his bed and you aren't left alone in the living room. He has a feeling you'll be yourself soon enough, even if he doesn't know exactly when. He'll keep you safe until then.

---

Tim: Shocked and Frantic

• He immediately starts to panic. You're a cat. A freaking cat. How? Why? What does he need to do to fix it? He has a million questions and no answers. But his stress only adds to your own and he quickly tries to calm down before soothing you: "No, no, no. It's fine. You're gonna be fine. I swear."

• Still, the second he gets you out of the room, convincing you that you'd be more comfortable in the living room than in the batcave, he starts to pace and freak out again. It's actually Damian, of all people, who gets him to snap out of it, literally slapping him across the face and telling him to be there for you instead of worrying about the details.

• He listens, to an extent, going back upstairs to where you were chewing on the fern in the living room, ripping a leaf apart. Pulling you away from it as you meow in protest, he cradles you in his arms, apologizing for fretting and promising he won't leave again.

• And he doesn't. He does, however, keep working on a way to fix you. He tries to be annoyed when you start knocking things off his desk, pushing stuff into a water bowl, jumping into his bottom drawer, laying on his papers, but he can't do it. You're just acting too cute to genuinely be mad. Eventually, he takes a break, closing the drawer you were sitting in and hauling you to his bed.

• He'll admit, he threw you with a little less caution than he probably should have, but you didn't mind, crawling onto him the moment he laid down, eager to close your eyes after being awake for far too long. Aka 5 straight hours, which, for a cat, was a lot. He didn't quite realize that, but notices almost immediately how fast you fall asleep once you lay down, curling into a ball, tucking your nose under your tail to keep it warm.

---

Damian: Is both fascinated and prepared.

• He has over a dozen pets, so when you're turned into a cat, he already knows everything there is to know and gets you anything you could possibly need. A nice cat bed, toys to keep you entertained, a post to scratch so you don't ruin any furniture.

• His others pets want to play or chase you, but he scoops you up before any of them can get even close to you. And he insists you stay close to him and not wander off, because you could get lost, kidnapped, or hurt.

• You always knew his knowledge of animals was extensive but didn't realize how much so until he was petting you, explaining how the hair follicles on cats work, which is why they never like to be pet in certain areas.

• Despite having an extremely nice bed, you'd really rather prefer his and he allows it, reminding you not to scratch the pillows or the sheets. "They're Egyptian silk. Don't ruin them." Still, when he catches you clawing at them in your sleep, unaware you were doing it, he doesn't stop you.

• In the morning, he switches feeds you breakfast, in a human bowl so it's not so degrading and takes you with him while he works on a way to fix you. He quickly gets distracted, though, by how you're looking around at everything like it's the most interesting thing ever.

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: Channeled Messages From The Person On Your Mind *Singles Edition*

Let's feed our delusions. (jk)

Pile 1: "You make me feel so good, like I'm on cloud nine. You make everything so, sooo worth it. I feel like a winner with you around... and the thing is.. you have no clue lol. I wanna win you over and show you off. You've no idea how you make me feel... you being your hot-ass self sitting there, looking so cute. I keep so much of my feelings to myself, but all I wanna do is overcome this impossible (and seemingly invisible) barrier between us! Ahhhhhh, it drives me nuts on some days, ugh!

You feel like a blessing to me. I didn't know somebody like you could exist?! Ahhhhh. I've been alone all my life, but you make me wanna not be alone anymore... it's not something I expected to feel, I have to be honest lol.

I'm not ready to come toward you right now, though. Trust me, I KNOW I must do something, but my anxiety holds me back... my limiting beliefs hold me, and I have no clue how to overcome them. I wish I could figure it out so I could BE WITH YOU ALREADY!

I'm being patient, though... with myself and with the situation between us. I keep my cards close, so you probably wouldn't even know any of this... sheesh, I don't wanna look like a fool in front of you. I'm scared you'd think less of me—it would KILL me if you did—so I keep you at arm's length.

Your presence TRIGGERS some very intense feelings inside me. I feel so exposed and vulnerable with you around, so overwhelmed, and it's not easy, you know? My heart's been broken before, and I'm afraid of getting it broken again. That's definitely a part of the fear you make me feel. I've had to be on the defense with people, especially from my past... relationships have not been easy, and so I guess I gotta work on that.

Go listen to Taylor Swift's 'Lover' anytime you miss me... that's a song I dedicate to you, sweetie, until I see you next time."

If you'd like to know more about your person's thoughts for you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

Pile 2: "GIRL, I have been going THROUGH IT, sheesh... I've been holding on for dear life 'cause lately, it feels like everything is out to get me, uk? One thing goes straight to hell after another, and I've just been so caught up with everything. You know what's been keeping me going, though? You. I've been dreaming about you most nights... I think about you when I can, to help me get through what I need to get through. The thought of you gives me strength, girlie. Every time you cross my mind, I get so weak in the knees! I look forward to every time I get to see you... (even if we live in the same house lmao!)

I feel you all around me all the time—it's lovely. I love how you make me feel... you take away my troubles, even if just for a sec. For that, I am immensely grateful!

You're not in my life right now, though... but I'm PRAYING and WISHING and HOPING that I might have a shot with you. The hope of a possibility of being with you is what makes the hard days sooo much easier. I seriously want a solid relationship with you more than anything else! (If we aren't in one already 👀)

Right now, I'm getting my shit together, and I hope you'll be waiting for me on the other side, just like in my dreams. You give me hope in a hopeless world again. You're such a light to me... you don't even know it.

I'm always watching you, though... even when you don't know—ESPECIALLY when you don't notice! Haha, it's my favorite thing in the world. I think you've got the prettiest voice in the world. Gosh, I just wanna be with you, but BOY, I've got my hands tied up right now. I'm letting go and letting God decide when it's time for us to come together. You make me wanna have faith in something greater than us.

But I assure you, I'm coming for ya once I'm done figuring everything in my life. Oh, and I love you. ✨"

If you'd like to know more about your person's thoughts for you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

Pile 3: "You make me so horny. I can't even sit right when I'm around you. WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS EFFECT ON ME?! (Not that I'm complaining tbh, I love it haha). But seriously, how can someone be so goddamn hot?! How?! Jeez, I LOVE your body! I get so many 18+ thoughts—it's insane. I apologize for being so direct, but it's just what you do to me, sorry not sorry :p

You make me wanna run toward you EVERY TIME I see you! All I wanna do is be all up on you, loving you, kissing you, and hugging you. Man, it's hard to be around you and not be close to you, especially when there's other people around. I LOVE TALKING TO YOU, and I don't ever wanna stop talking to you, ugh.

You make my heart explode! I've never had feelings this deep for anybody in my life (I WISH I was kidding, jeez). You make me wanna act mature and romantic n stuff... 🙃 (Usually, I'm not like this, btw).

I wanna be where you're at, vibrationally speaking, but I've got some things I gotta take care of. I've got some old cycles I've been on—my old bs. I'm working hard on it and releasing it as we speak, and this is helping me come toward you. Might take me a while, though, ngl 👀🙄. But I'll be there before you know it, princess!

I WANT our relationship to begin between the two of us SO BAD, but I can't see how that's gonna happen yet. It feels like it's not the right time yet? Idk... it's really frustrating, though. I'm trying not to do anything stupid to sabotage our new beginning, though. I'm just going with the flow of things and listening to my intuition about our situation. Don't worry!

I see you as my forever, my one and only. I can't explain it, but I just know. You're the one for me, and honestly, it's breaking my heart that I can't actively pursue you right now since it's supposed to be 'divinely guided' 🙄 Like, Universe, could you please hurry up and get me to MY baby, ugh.

You're so beautiful, you're my goddess, my other half. I can't wait to get to you and spoil you and have a PROPER relationship with you. I hate that we can't come together and confess to each other yet... it's maddening. I know we're destined to be, but the way things are going on the surface right now, it might seem as if we're not meant to be... hell, we might not even be talking to each other or you may not even know I exist right now! But as soon as the divine gives me the green light, I'll be coming running toward you to claim you all for myself." ✨

If you'd like to know more about your person's thoughts for you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

[zorilleerrant]

Ohhhh, I think about this a lot, and Murderbot is such a good example! Easing readers into a story will make it read well the first time, but if they ever try to reread it, all the exposition becomes glaring. Usually that's annoying and feels pointless, but sometimes it can highlight problems with the plot, characterization, or even the worldbuilding itself. It gets too big the second time through. (That's why everyone's always on about exposition.)

The typical way of getting around that is introducing a plot context or character relationship where people would be explaining the important parts of the story. Sometimes, people use an unusually verbose or nitpicky narrator who wants to keep talking about random mostly irrelevant things. Murderbot, though, does my favorite, and one I think is sorely underused: the stories just throw you in and assume you'll get it eventually.

(This is one of the particulars I'm talking about when I say fanfic ingrains good writing habits, too. Fanfic almost never tries to handhold you through establishing the known quantities, so it's no surprise a ficcer knows how to do this!)

It can be hard going into a story planning to do that, especially if you're a writer who does a lot of worldbuilding or otherwise keeps really detailed notes. You've made a lot of decisions! Unfortunately, to make the story flow, you're going to have to wait to share most of that with the reader.

The Important Parts:

There are things the narrator doesn't know about the world. Lots of things are true in real life, but you don't know them either; this is pretty much inevitable. Murderbot is fun about this, because some things it has opinions on, some things it doesn't understand, and some things just feel normal to it!

These include things most people in the world would know, and they include things the readers might/will likely know. Murderbot has a lot of trouble with emotions, which is relatable, because we've all had some trouble with that, but it really establishes how non-human it is that it often assumes humans never have any similar trouble. Characters in a different world won't always share the same premises as in your world.

The character should know things relevant to it. This is the most commonly talked about, I think, because a lot of the most aggravating exposition is a character 'learning' through an explanation of something they should already be deeply familiar with. It's not just about general facets of the world, though; it's important that characters know a lot about their established specialties. Murderbot may be confused a lot of the time, but when it knows something, it knows it. Or it's faking knowing it and it learned it from TV.

Different characters should know different things! I think this is often overlooked in favor of trying to streamline the worldbuilding, so most characters tend to have the same background but different specialties. But in general, lots of people are working from different premises and expectations about the world, not to mention different life experiences. Murderbot does this in an especially fun way because it's always speculating about whether other people know what it knows or if they think it knows what they know, adding an interesting metafictional quality to a strong basis for character building.

When the narrator likes or cares about something more, they talk about it more, and when they like or care about it less, they talk about it less. The worldbuilding is all equally important to you, and maybe to the reader, but a character will latch onto only specific things. Murderbot has so many of those specific things! And it will go on at length, until it gets to a metaphor roundabout on occasion. This fleshes out the character more than the world, but it's important to establish your lens.

Especially since most 'truths' about the world aren't universal! There are always going to be prevailing attitudes and common myths and personal biases. These add to the worldbuilding, because you can see different ways characters interact with the world and how they come to think this way. There's not just one culture, let alone one subculture, so you need things that seem different. Murderbot, with its relatively unique perspective, is adept at showing you how many different ways different people think about things. And yet, it keeps insisting all other SecUnits think just like it! Which is a particularly wonderful bit of character and worldbuilding.

Anyway, if you think you need to tell the reader something up front, no you don't. It'll probably slot in seamlessly three chapters later, and give you a chance to let the details appear organically. Let them live their lives and care about what they want to!

An important writing lesson I'm taking away from Murderbot is that you don't always have to ease your readers into the world and the characters and speculative concepts. Sometimes you can just start with the fun part where there's a sandworm trying to eat someone and that's fine too.

[ivyues]

A Snowy Promise - Lee Know

With his enlistment approaching, Lee Know contemplates building a deeper commitment with you.

It had been snowing all day, the gentle flakes turning the streets into a quiet, glistening world of white. The snow was the reason you stayed at home today, crushing your plans, instead leaving you cozy and content indoors.

Here, the muffled sound of the snowstorm was replaced by the occasional soft clink of your mugs on the coffee table and the low hum of a playlist you'd chosen. The familiar weight of a shared blanket draped over your legs added to the sense of calm, grounding you in the moment.

Lee Know leaned back against the couch, his arm resting casually around your shoulders, while his other hand laid under the edge of the blanket, his fingers absently tracing gentle, aimless patterns against the fabric. The two of you had spent hours talking, covering everything from small, inconsequential topics – how his new choreography was coming along, the places you wanted to visit one day – to deeper subjects that made the minutes blur into hours.

Now, a lull settled between you, the kind of silence that felt natural, comforting rather than awkward. He turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unspoken in his eyes, a softness and an intensity all at once, like he was searching for the right words.

He inhaled deeply before saying, "You know things are going to change soon, right? With… everything coming up for me." You nodded, understanding immediately what he meant. His military enlistment had been a quiet but persistent shadow over the horizon, something neither of you spoke about too often but both felt deeply.

"I’ve been trying to picture it," he continued, his voice tinged with a vulnerability he didn’t show often. "Being away for that long, and coming back to… well, I want to come back to you. To us. And I was wondering if… getting married is something you’d want—" He paused, his lips quirking into a soft smile. "As a promise."

The way he said it, so tentative yet hopeful, made your heart ache. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t asking for a definitive answer. It felt more like he was letting you in on a dream he’d been holding close, a quiet hope he wanted to share with you.

What you didn't know about were all the times he’d found himself looking at jewelry, rings especially, without meaning to. He’d ignored it at first, dismissing it as idle curiosity or just passing ideas, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been more. The thought of choosing something for you, something that could say all the things he couldn’t quite put into words, tugged at the edges of his mind

You looked at him with wide eyes, your hand reaching instinctively for his under the blanket. "I’ve been thinking about it too," you admitted. "Not marriage, exactly, but… how I’d handle you being away. I try to think of it like you’re just on tour for a long time," you said softly, the words coming carefully as you worked through your own emotions. "It’s not forever. And knowing you’re coming back to me, that we could build something—together—would maybe make it less scary."

His lips curved into a faint smile at that, the kind that made his eyes crinkle just slightly at the corners. He glanced at you with an expression that was equal parts affection and relief.

"I’d like that," he murmured. "But I don’t want to rush you, or make this feel like it’s happening just because of the timing. This year’s going to be so busy, and you deserve... more. You deserve me doing this the right way, not something rushed before I leave."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and you laced your fingers through his, grounding yourself in the steady warmth of his hand. "You don’t have to do anything perfectly for me," you said, your voice steady despite the emotion welling up inside you. "Just... keep coming back. I’ll wait for you."

And as he sat there, his hand still in yours, a thought struck him – a quiet resolve he didn’t speak aloud. It wasn’t just about serving and fulfilling a duty; it was about the future waiting for him on the other side. Coming back to you, his fiancée by then – or maybe even his wife – was the image that kept him steady. It was the thought of building a life with you, one step at a time, that made the prospect of leaving more bearable.

masterlist

[admirationandromantics]

Best Friend's Brother

This request is literally 10 days old, which, to some, might not seem as a long time. For me however, it is. I'm sorry, but as I've described, I'm just trying to balance writing and school right now, so I'll be writing a little less than before.

Word count: 1,6k (unedited)

could u write a best friend older brother trope josh x reader. luv you works btww xx -anon

I knock on the door, waiting for Beth to open up. We’d planned a movie night while her parents were gone, and Hannah was at Sam’s. Josh was still home, but she told me he wouldn’t be a bother, and would probably stay in his room the whole night. 

I have met him many times before, and would even call us friends. Though at the same time, I often wonder if he looks at me like another baby sister, despite only being one year apart. He often gives me a hard time, teasing me and joking around, but most times, I don’t mind. I usually also hope that he never means anything with his small occasional comments, because nothing will happen either way. My best friend’s brother? That would be a problem just waiting to happen. 

Josh and I have been drunk together, partied together and been on get togethers together, though I’m not familiar with everyone in their group yet. 

I stand outside, my patience running low in the cold weather, wishing I brought a scarf. I hear footsteps coming from inside. Finally. The door unlocks, and a broad, tan Josh in a thin rolled up sweater and some sweatpants stands there, arm against the doorframe. He gives a small smile, looking me over. 

“Well, look who decided to come while the parents are out” he coos, a small whistling sound coming out of his lips. 

“Well, hello Joshua, care to let me in?” 

He smiles, contemplating whether to make this difficult or not. I look around, sighing and waiting for an answer, thinking about shouting Beth’s name and telling her that her brother is being a prick. Luckily, he opens the door further, making space for me to walk inside. “Thank you” I say, trying to hide my smile a bit. I’ve been here many times before, so I immediately know where to hang my coat and leave everything else. Josh keeps standing there, watching me. 

“Beth is out, said something about getting snacks for your movie night” He explains, and I nod. The store is not far from here, so she will probably be back soon. 

“Well then, do you know which movie she’s got planned?”

“Of course I do, I’m the one who helps pick them out”

I give him a curious and sceptical look, not having heard this before. He keeps his gaze locked on my gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. 

“Have you?” 

“Every time” 

My mouth opens a little. Beth is always talking about her great taste in movies, never having mentioned this before. 

“No, are you serious? Beth has never given you any credit”

“Little sisters… what do you expect?” 

I hum, not knowing how to respond to that. I walk inside, him following closely as I sit myself by the kitchen counter. 

“So, what movie have you chosen then?” I ask, looking up at him again. Instead of sitting, he just leans against the counter with one arm, body turned my way. I can’t help my gaze, looking over his revealed forearms. 

“Something a bit different than usual…” he smirks, eyes following my gaze down to his arms. I break free, leaning forward a bit. 

“Okay, what movie?” 

“A scary one” 

“No”

“Oh yes” 

I whine, leaning back again. I hate scary movies, I hate jumpscares and gore. Why can’t people just like normal, funny, cozy stuff? 

“Josh, are you serious?”

“And there we go, you’re starting to use my nickname” 

“Joshua! Are you serious?”

“Well, that lasted for long”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. This is not how I want to spend my night, and considering that the walk home will be dark and scary, this movie will definitely fuel my fears. 

“Hey, calm down, it’s a good movie, maybe you just haven’t seen a good scary movie yet, this one might change your mind about the whole genre” He smiles, a hand going to my arm. I can't help the small blush coming from the touch, his fingers warm and comforting. I don’t want to do this, but I really can’t object when Beth is the one getting everything ready, and I just need to show up and have a good time. Or pretend I’m having a good time. 

The door opens, and his hand is immediately removed as Beth comes in, a big bag in her hands. She doesn’t notice me at first. 

“Beth!” I exclaim, and she lifts her head, nose a little red from the cold outside. 

“Hey, oh sorry, I didn’t have time to go earlier today” 

“That’s completely fine, here, let me take it” I state, walking over and taking the bag from her hands as she starts undressing. 

“My brother didn’t bother you?” 

I look over at him, and he just gives a small laugh, shaking his head and putting his hands up defensively. 

“No, he was fine” 

“Good, now, let's go” She smiles, leading me away from him, into their living room. She finds a couple of bowls, letting me distribute the snack in them as she works on getting the movie going. 

“Okay, so I know you’re not a scary movie-person, but I know this one is really good, so please, keep an open mind” 

I laugh a little, thinking back on the fact that Josh is the one who actually picked this out. 

“I’ll keep an open mind then” 

“Great” 

The movie starts, and we both sit down, a blanket over us as the lights dim. At first, the movie seems fine, the occasional jump scare, which scares me much more than it does Beth. Still, I keep watching, body tense and uncomfortable, but I can’t take my eyes off it. We’re in the middle when someone gets violently cut up, and the camera doesn’t bother to show us anything else than the blood and flesh flying everywhere, the gore not stopping. I take a breath, pulling my eyes from the screen and standing up. 

“I just need to use the bathroom”

“Gonna puke?”

I laugh a little, the tension in my shoulders easing as she talks. 

“No, but if there’s no important information in this sequence, please feel free to skip it, I'll be quick” I say, already making my way to the yellow-lighted hallway. It's light, in contrast to the room I was just in, and that makes me ease up a little more. Gosh, if this was to keep going, I wouldn’t dare walking home tonight. 

Suddenly, I hear a click, and the light goes away, leaving me in the dark hallway. I stop, looking around, unsure about what just happened. Another breath escapes my lips, reminding me that I can’t keep holding my breath everytime something startling happens. The hallway looks empty both ways, so I continue further, crossing my fingers that the light in the bathroom at least works. 

Before I can react, a couple of strong arms grab me from behind, caging me. I’m about to yell out, but as if anticipating it, the hand goes over my mouth, muffling my screams. I’m slammed into the wall, not too hard, luckily, but I close my eyes before the impact arrives. As I open them again, a smiling Josh is standing in front of me, biting his lips to hold in his laugh. My heart is still beating fast, breaths coming in and out in a rapid manner. I grab his hand roughly, dragging it off my mouth. 

“Joshua Washington! Are you fucking insane??” 

He bursts out laughing, arms against the wall beside me, holding himself up as he leans over. I shake my head, mouth still a little open in shock, whilst he can’t stop laughing. 

“Maybe, but you should’ve seen your face!” He chuckles, one of his hands going to his stomach to compose himself. It’s probably hurting right now from all the laughter. 

“Joshua! What the hell is wrong with you!?” 

“Okay, okay, calm down, just a little prank on my part” He smiles, finally calming down. 

“I have been watching a fucking horror movie, and you pull this shit?”

He bites his lip again, tilting his head a bit to examine me. 

“Oh, come on now, you’re totally thinking it’s funny” 

“No, I’m not” 

“Or you’re into it or something…”

“Wait, what, no I’m not, what kind of sick-”

Before I can process what’s happening, his lips are on me. I feel his breath, his body close, soft lips moving ove mine. My heart is still beating rapidly, but oddly enough, it calms with the way he’s touching me. Tender and carefully, not like himself at all. His hand goes to my waist, body pressing mine into the wall, opening his mouth a little. I hear a little groan leaving his throat. He pulls away, faces close as his eyes go over me, looking up and down. I almost think he looks a little vulnerable, but his signature smirk finds its way to his lips again. 

“Well then, calmer now?” 

I look at him, confused, conflicted. I scoff, shaking my head a bit. 

“No, I think I need a little more help” I state, hand going to the back of his neck, pulling him into me again. Capturing his lips on mine, already opening my mouth. He does the same, one hand on my hips, pulling me into him. 

“Hey, finished in the bathroom soon? I’ve paused the movie, the gore is over!” Beth shouts from the living room. We both pull away from each other and look over to the living room, luckily not seeing her there. I look back at him, seeing his chest heaving, hot breaths coming from his mouth. He turns, looking into my eyes. 

“Guess we better finish calming you down later” He smiles, pushing himself off me and the wall, walking back to his room. 

Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?

[tsukumomei]

—as long as it's you

ft. Sae Itoshi

summary: everything was in place, but when his mother accidentally reveals the surprise, sae has to improvise. wc. 1.3 k

Sae had it all planned out.

He wasn’t the type to make grand romantic gestures; he preferred to keep things simple and understated. 

But for you, he wanted to try, because he knew you deserved nothing less.

You loved people, gatherings, and celebrations. You thrived in the presence of those you held dear, so he’d taken note of every little thing you loved and orchestrated an evening just for you. Sae rented out the quaint, secluded garden café that had become your spot—a place where you made countless memories with.

The place would be adorned with soft fairy lights, casting a golden glow over the field. To top it all off, he had planned a fireworks display that would light up the night sky with the words: Will you marry me? 

He really was going all out for this.

The tables would be draped in elegant linen and scattered with your favorite flowers. He’d chosen a menu you would love, with dishes catered to every one of your favorites, down to the dessert: the same tiramisu you raved about during your first date.

It's great because it's so unbelievably out-of-character for him to do that you'd never guess it.

And then there was the ring.

He’d spent weeks looking for the perfect one, turning down countless designs until he found a jeweler in Italy who could create something unique—something as special as you. A custom piece: a delicate rose-gold band with a center diamond that sparkled like starlight, flanked by tiny sapphires to match the color of his eyes.

The ring had finally arrived today, nestled in an elegant velvet box. He held it in his hands for a moment, marveling at how something so small could hold so much meaning. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but there was still time to wait. He tucked the box into a drawer in his study before heading out to handle some business, reminding himself to grab it later.

Just as he was leaving, his mother noticed the package in his hand. "What’s that, Sae?" she asked, her tone light and curious.

He hesitated, then gave a faint smile. "Just something for y/n."

But fate, as it often does, had other plans.

Later that afternoon, you dropped by on a whim. "I just wanted to visit," you said with that radiant smile of yours, and Sae’s mother welcomed you warmly. She adored you—always had, ever since you and Sae were kids running around the neighborhood together.

As you chatted with Sae’s mother over tea, her voice turned light and casual, as if she were sharing a harmless little secret. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, setting her cup down with a soft clink. “Sae mentioned he got something for you. It’s in the study drawer over there. You should go get it.”

Your eyes immediately lit up with curiosity, a delighted smile spreading across your face. “Really? What is it?!” you asked, excitement bubbling in your tone as you pushed your chair back and made your way toward the study.

Sae’s mother opened her mouth, realizing her mistake too late. “Oh, wait—” she started, but you were already out of earshot.

In the study, you scanned the room quickly before spotting the drawer she mentioned. With eager hands, you pulled it open and found a small, elegant box sitting right on top. The rich, deep velvet of the box alone made your heart race.

You gasped softly, fingers trembling slightly as you lifted it from the drawer. It felt heavier than you expected, the weight somehow adding to the anticipation. Holding your breath, you carefully opened it, and there it was—the engagement ring.

The soft light from the study window caught the diamond, sending a brilliant array of colors dancing across the room. The intricate rose-gold band gleamed, and the tiny sapphires flanking the center stone shimmered like they held a secret of their own.

For a long moment, you were stunned. Your lips parted slightly in disbelief as your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t just a ring; it was the ring.

You turned back toward the kitchen, holding the open box in your hand. “Is this…?” you began, but the words trailed off as your eyes met Sae’s mother.

Her expression mirrored your shock—wide-eyed and horrified. Her hands flew to her mouth, her face flushing with the realization of what had just happened.

“Oh no…” you both said in unison, the words hanging in the air like a shared confession.

Sae’s mother shook her head frantically. “I—I didn’t know! He didn’t tell me what it was!” she stammered, clearly panicking.

You let out a nervous laugh, holding up the box. “This is what he got for me?” you asked, voice tinged with disbelief and amusement.

She nodded, still looking mortified. “I think I just ruined everything.”

And that’s how the proposal venue shifted from a dreamy garden setting to the family kitchen.

When Sae came home later that evening, the scene awaiting him was… not what he had envisioned. 

You and his mother were seated at the kitchen table, both looking unusually guilty, like two kids caught raiding the cookie jar.

His mother was the first to react, rushing to him with the velvet box in hand, her words tumbling out in a flurry of apologies. "Sae, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know—I didn’t think she’d actually open it!"

He blinked, then sighed. Well, so much for surprises.

His gaze shifted to you. There you were, cheeks glowing with embarrassment. He could tell you were trying to act innocent, but the slight twitch of your lips gave you away.

He set the box down on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something. Then, with a resigned sort of determination, he grabbed the box and turned to you.

“Oh well,” he said with a shrug, his tone deadpan but his eyes soft. “You already know, so I might as well do this now.”

Before you could process what was happening, Sae was down on one knee in the middle of the kitchen, holding the ring up toward you.

“You will marry me,” he said matter-of-factly, already taking your hand. “You don’t have a choice.” He slid the ring onto your finger with the same no-nonsense precision he used in every part of his life.

The sheer audacity of his approach made you burst into laughter. “You’re lucky I wasn’t going to say no even if you did ask properly,” you teased, your smile widening as you admired the ring.

His mother, standing nearby, had already pulled out her phone and was filming the entire thing, tearing up at the unexpected sweetness of the moment.

As Sae stood, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. Your voice was soft, laced with both joy and disbelief. “So, this is it,” you murmured, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

He gazed down at you, his hands settling gently on your waist, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. His lips curled into the smallest of smiles, but his eyes were filled with so much love it took your breath away. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a warmth that wrapped around your heart. “This is it.”

Sae’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I had it all planned out, you know? You would’ve loved it—the garden, the lights, the fireworks. It was going to be perfect.” He gave a small, sheepish smile, but his gaze never left yours.

You reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands. “Sae,” you whispered, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I’d take anything as long as it’s with you.”

The engagement was sealed right there—not in the garden surrounded by flowers and fairy lights, but in the cozy kitchen, filled with the lingering aroma of coffee and laughter, and a witness armed with a smartphone. 

Though it wasn’t the grand, meticulously planned proposal Sae had envisioned, as he looked into your eyes, he realized something important. The sparkle of the ring on your finger paled in comparison to the glow of your smile, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The garden, with its fairy lights and fireworks, would now be the backdrop for your engagement party—the perfect imperfection of life’s unexpected moments. 

And as you leaned up to kiss him, Sae couldn’t help but think that this, right here, was better than perfect.

—

a/n: I am indeed a victim of the Sae brainrot

[multiheadcanons]

I KNOW A GUY

scout: need a car pushed? need a free house sitter who won’t steal your shit? need a good playlist in thirty minutes for a very specific situation? need a group of guys in front of your place in an hour? need something delivered quickly under the radar? need someone jumped in a back alley? need a body buried? he’s your guy.

soldier: do you need a body buried? need someone’s nose broken? need some extra limbs of unknown origin? need a free bodyguard at the club so you can have a good time alone? need a free accidental hitman? need someone who will make you feel good about yourself by making you feel bad about yourself? need your gutters cleaned on your house? need someone who will come literally fight the monsters under your kids bed? he’s your guy.

pyro: need a body buried— well, cremated? got a financial emergency in which you can’t afford? need a sugar parent you don’t have to sleep with? at your nephews party and spider-man didn’t show up and now you need someone in a costume at this house pronto? need a gift for your nephew because you forgot to buy one? pyro’s your person for the low low price of kindling.

demo: need a drink that will make you experience ego death? need a ride for your bitch of an aunt so she never asks you to do anything ever again? need connections to a guy who sells peculiar cuts of meat from peculiar animals? need someone to get cussed out, for no reason? need a structure demolished in ten minutes? need someone who’s got vintage vinyls for sale? he’s your guy.

heavy: need your car pushed? need a meal made for fifteen? need someone handled? need an emergency ride to the hospital in the dead of winter? hell, need anything done in the dead of winter? need something out of a tree? need a tree cut down? need a plant sitter while you’re out of town? he’s your guy.

engineer: need your car’s computer replaced at a fraction of the cost? want someone’s tesla booted permanently? need a custom built prosthetic? need security cameras installed? need your wifi restarted? need someone who can cut a key in two minutes? need someone who can pick a lock in less than five? he’s your guy.

medic: you need some boobs? need some boobs removed? need to add or delete a penis? did you run out of testosterone or estrogen? need a binder? need a packer? hell, need a supplier for your side job of drug dealing? need a new kidney? need an abortion? need a hysterectomy under the table? need some unethically sourced body parts of unknown origin? all for the low price of free and don’t tell anyone? medic is your guy for all things medical. he does not care, he will just keep whatever he takes.

sniper: you need a body double to go with you to the store? need a guy who can do intermediate addition and subtraction without a calculator? need someone stalked? need a guy who has nothing but free time to get in an online queue and wait all day to buy your concert tickets? need a ride to and from said concert? he’s your guy.

spy: do you happen to need an armchair therapist? need access to a book in one library across the country? need a rumor spread like the plague? need someone handled? need a body buried? need a thirty minute etiquette class before you go on a date? need a new cook after you killed the last one at the restaurant? he’s your guy.

[razzle-zazzle]

Wait no actually addition to this. Under the cut because I went on for longer than I maybe needed to:

Because in season one episode nine, "The Royal Blacksmiths", because of Cole lying in his letters, Lou thinks that his son is still a Marty Oppenheimer's student. Or, in the case of this theory, believes that the other three are part of quartet Cole picked up outside of Marty Oppenheimer's (but still going along with the lie to humor Cole, which makes Jay's slip kind of lowkey hilarious).

But. Oh my god. Okay so in the leadup to the talent show the boys are going through their routine and get into an argument after Jay and Kai smack into each other. And we get this exchange:

Jay: You're supposed to follow me! Kai: Follow you? You're off the beat by two! Zane: 2.72 off the beat. Cole: Guys, guys! Let's not make this any harder than it needs to be. We just stick to the plan and keep up the charade until the trophy's revealed. Once we steal the Blade Cup, we can argue all we want when we get back home. Jay: But this is your hometown*, Cole! Don't you wanna try and win it? Cole: Ugh. The only dance step I wanna perform is called, "Get Me Out of this Nuthouse and Let's Burn these Memories from my Head."

At which point Lou enters the scene, having overheard the conversation from "once we steal the Blade Cup" at the very latest (could have overheard more, but couldn't have overheard less), which gives us one of the more iconic exchanges in the series:

Lou: What? Cole: Dad! I... Lou: You... you were going to steal it? Cole: Dad, I didn't mean for you to hear that. But I'm glad you did. There's something I've been wanting to tell you. All these years, I haven't been training to be a singer or a dancer. I found something new that I'm really good at! Dad— -Cole spinjitzus to change from his quartet outfit to his ninja clothes- Cole: I'm a ninja. -Lou gasps- Cole, grabbing the Scythe from the case: And the truth is, if we don't steal that Fang Blade— I mean, Blade Cup, there's other people that will. Bad people. Serpentine. And we need it to save the world. Cole: I know how ridiculous this sounds, but I'm proud of who I am. And I want you to be proud of me too. Lou: I can't be proud of any son who thinks stealing is right. And I'm not going to wait around to watch you make a mockery of our family's legacy! Cole: Dad, I—

We all know this scene. The "coming out" scene often used in Cole queercoding compilations. A scene where, in response to Lou hearing something that contradicts the lie Cole's been upholding, Cole immediately uses it as an opportunity to be honest, despite all of his previous adamance against doing that.

And I've pointed it out before, but Lou doesn't say anything about Cole being a ninja in this scene. He's focused on, and mad about, the plan to steal the Blade Cup. There is the "make a mockery of our family's legacy!" line, which at the time of this episode's airing was likely about Cole being a ninja rather than a dancer. But at the time of this episode's airing, Lilly did not exist yet. And her existence and what little we know about her recontextualizes a lot concerning Cole, especially in these early seasons. And given that they reanimated Cole's first meeting with Wu (originally seen in the pilots) in Sons of Garmadon to include reference to Lilly's death, I'd say the recontextualization is important. Suddenly, Lou's line about their family's legacy becomes not a jab at Cole not being a dancer, but instead more fitting as further anger at Cole wanting to steal the Blade Cup. Because Lilly was a ninja. She danced, as seen in Cole's flashback in the "Balance" short from the Elements of Spinjitzu miniseries, but the main show itself (especially Master of the Mountain) goes out of its way to emphasize Lilly as a hero, as a ninja. So being a ninja is part of their family legacy, even if it wasn't at the time of this episode's airing. Thus, given Lou's dialogue in this scene, I can confidently say that he wasn't mad about Cole being a ninja, but about Cole being a thief.

And why does this matter to this weird crack theory about Lou knowing Cole wasn't at Marty Oppenheimer's, you ask? Because, in the context of this theory, Lou only knows that Cole isn't attending Marty Oppenheimer's. That's all he knows. Cole lies in his letters and says he still is, so Lou doesn't know what Cole's doing. He clearly trusts that Cole a) can handle himself and b) will drop the lie to ask for help if he gets in trouble, or else Lou wouldn't be humoring the lie in all his responses. Additionally, Lou probably genuinely believed that Cole had formed a quartet with Jay, Zane, and Kai, even if he knew that Cole wasn't attending Marty Oppenheimer's. He wasn't expecting the "steal the Blade Cup" at all, because he thinks of his son so highly**. But he doesn't have an outward reaction to Cole being a ninja***, or really to the fact that Cole was lying to him at all. All that matters in that moment is that Cole wants to steal the Blade Cup instead of trying to earn it fair and square.

And I just. Lou doesn't say anything about Cole lying to him. This is possibly the most insignificant evidence for my stupid little crack theory that does not matter but also the more I think about this theory and what it means for Lou and Cole's relationship the more I start to explode. ESPECIALLY. LATER IN THE EPISODE. AFTER COLE DOING THE TRIPLE TIGER SASHAY WINS THEM THE CUP (plus Cole going back on the plan to steal it and instead deciding they should use their spinjitzu (tornado of creation specifically) after Lou's disappointment is so.... Cole the character that you are). AND LOU COMES UP AND REVEALS HE SAW THE WHOLE THING.

Zane: I've never felt more alive! Jay: Haha! We did it! Kai: No, Cole did it! Because of you, Ninjago will sleep safely tonight. Cole: Thanks. But... go on and celebrate without me. Winning this just doesn't feel the same without my dad being able to— Lou, entering the scene: Cole! Cole: Dad? Lou: I saw it all, son. I saw it all. -Cole and Lou hug- Cole: You saw me dance? Lou: More importantly, I saw you fight. Those Serpentine were up to no good, trying to steal the show, and I saw you stand up for what is right! Lou: I was wrong. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard to follow in my footsteps.

"I saw you stand up for what is right!" Sound familiar? Maybe like... LILLY'S LINE IN THE FLASHBACK IN MASTER OF THE MOUNTAIN'S TENTH EPISODE, "Promise me you'll always stand up to those who are cruel and unjust."????? HOW COLE ENDS UP FOLLOWING LILLY'S LEGACY AS A NINJA AND HOW WHEN LOU IS AFFIRMING THAT HE SUPPORTS IT HE ECHOES LILLY'S STATEMENT. I'M GOING INSANE

tl;dr yeah i just really really wanted to talk about "The Royal Blacksmiths" again and also point out small and meaningless evidence that supports the crack theory I just made up. here are the asterisk notes:

*Fun Fact: Marty Oppenheimer's is in Ninjago City! Cole literally states this in the episode. Another Fun Fact! Based on the exterior shot that we see before the scene of the boys warming up for the talent show, either there's a city to rival Ninjago City or Ninjago City is Cole's hometown. Which... If Marty Oppenheimer's is in Ninjago City, and that's also where Lou lives.... did he seriously never try to visit Cole????? Like once??? Further evidence that he knew Cole wasn't actually attending the school ig

**If you think Lou doesn't like Cole then you are not watching LEGO Ninjago. There is literally no onscreen interaction they have that even implies Lou hates or dislikes Cole. Yes there is the doorbell scene in "The Royal Blacksmiths" which could maybe give off that impression but like. Your honor Lou loves his son and will never not be proud of him. He wouldn't have been so disappointed over Cole's plan to steal the Blade Cup if he didn't care about Cole. PLUS HE DID END UP STICKING AROUND TO SEE COLE ONSTAGE SO EVEN DISAPPOINTED LOU STILL CARES ABOUT HIS SON.

***Maybe if it weren't for the theft thing Lou would have been angry about the ninja thing. But like. Genuinely. Given everything we know about Lilly. You cannot convince me that Lou would have been that upset at Cole for choosing to be a ninja instead of a dancer. You cannot.

In giggling at this he was there for TWO DAYS?? ONLY TWO? Not even a full week and he was already running away im weak

[kyyupidz]

Hey hey :3! Soooo it’s my birthday in acouple days and I was wondering if I could request some x reader content with Floydie. I love him very dearly and would like to spend my birthday with him pls and thank u :}

hey siri: is my boyfriend love-bombing me? (g/n reader x floyd leech)

★ after dating floyd leech for a week, you come to the sickening realization (before your birthday no less!) that floyd leech may or may not be love-bombing you. dammit! well, no relationships stay perfect forever, right? ��� hurt/comfort, preestablished relationship ★ 2.75k words, reader is the ramshackle prefect, reader is called shrimpy, brief ace, deuce, grim, and azul mention, happy birthday user cryptidsandcreepycrawlings! <3

a week ago, you confessed your undying love to floyd leech of octavinelle. 

stupid? maybe. when you brought up the idea to your friends, they pretty much all told you to drop it. ace had called you as senseless as deuce, deuce was too surprised to respond to either of you, and grim had begun shaking even thinking about floyd.

unfortunately for them, all their warnings went through one ear and out the other. what’s the worst he could do? kill you? bring it! you’re not afraid! 

...okay, maybe you were a little scared. when you decided to completely disregard all warning flags and desperate mewls of mercy from grim, you were, admittedly, extremely nervous. you had locked yourself in the bathroom, and while grim clawed at the door trying to stop you, you texted floyd to meet you at the courtyard in the evening.

his response?

nah

…oh. well–

kidding dw ill be there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  wait for me okay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

and that’s how you managed to drag floyd leech out to the courtyard to spill your heart out to him!

…too bad the confession itself was… well… a whole stumble of words. nobody said it was going to be easy confessing to a 191 centimeter eel! you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, you were so scared! at the very least, he had kept quiet the whole time you were word-vomiting, patiently waiting for you to finish.

and when you were done… you had glanced up at him and… and…

he was smiling like crazy. like, maniacal crazy. your heart had practically stopped in your chest when you looked at him, and not because he was pretty, but because you were scared he was going to pull out a scalpel and carve it into your flesh!

…okay, maybe it was because he was pretty. but that’s not the point!

surprisingly, instead of laughing in your face or torturing you or just walking off, he immediately made a grab for you and pulled you into his arms, long arms encircling your torso and crushing the ribs inside to dust. 

“aww, shrimpy! let me give you a big squeeze!” he had squealed excitedly,  “ahaha!~ ain’t you just the cutest? okay, let’s have fun and play together forever and ever!”

admittedly, his acceptance of your feelings was a little creepy and ominous. it didn’t feel like he reciprocated more so that he was chaining you to him and dooming you to be his eternal plaything. but those are just details! what’s important is that he said yes, and now you’re officially dating floyd leech!

and really, it’s been a dream. more than that. he’s everything you wanted. even though grim immediately scampers upstairs into the safety of your shared room when he visits and ace keeps gagging every time you talk about him, he’s perfect. 

when he enters a conversation with someone, he immediately goes on a tangent about how “shrimpy just confessed their feelings to me!” which is quickly followed up by “you better congratulate me or i’m gonna squeeze you.” 

the thought of him showing you off to other people really makes your heart warm! 

and when you initiated the first kiss, a chaste peck on the cheek, he immediately pounced on you and gave you thousands more in turn. your friends are sick of seeing him draped on you and making kissy faces at you all the time, but you wouldn’t have it any other way! 

better yet, he’s been walking you to class every morning and walking you home every afternoon, saying that he just wants to spend a little more time with his favorite shrimpy. he doesn’t always lead you to class like he promises, sometimes dragging you along to skip in his room, but where floyd goes, you follow!

you guys are perfect. at least, you really thought you guys were perfect. but last night, ace had crashed on your couch, and made you rethink your entire relationship.

“are you sure he likes you, prefect?” he had asked you. and you immediately rolled your eyes, prepared for another lecture about how you need to rethink your love life choices.

“stop trying to break us up already,” you replied, swatting his shoulder, “this is why you keep getting collared.”

yet instead of just sighing and letting it go, ace had fallen eerily silent.

“i don’t know, prefect,” he muttered, “what if he suddenly decides you’re not fun anymore and dumps you? you know how he is, with his crazy mood swings. what if you do something he doesn’t like and he decides then and there, ‘it’s over!’”

at the time, you had swatted at him again, scowling.

“floyd would never do that!” you said, “he isn’t like that!”

but now… you aren’t so sure.

you know, it’s awful of you to think this way about your boyfriend! especially when he’s been nothing but kind to you. but you just can’t help yourself, this irrational feeling taking root in your mind and infesting your every thought. 

what if he really is just dating you because he thought it’d be fun in the moment? what if he really does dump you the moment you become boring? oh sevens, is this what they call love-bombing? are you being love-bombed?

you feel a pit forming in your stomach. worst part? tomorrow’s your birthday. your birthday! and you’re spending it stressed and worked up over a hypothetical chance of your boyfriend not liking you. dammit, that’s not fair!

in hopes of at least having a relatively decent birthday, you do everything that you can to put yourself to sleep. warm milk, counting sheep, running around a few times… 

it doesn’t work. you keep tossing and turning and groaning with exasperation.

and when floyd shows up at your door the next morning, you find yourself not overwhelmed with love, but doubt. does he really like you? or is this just one big game to him, where he sees how much fun he can squeeze out of you before you’ve run out of entertainment value? 

is that what this is? a game?

“hey, shrimpy,” floyd says, snapping you out of your thoughts. he’s pouting, clearly displeased that you’re ignoring him. “i’ve been calling your name for like, the past five minutes. what’s got your brain so scrambled today?” 

you smile up at him, standing on your tip-toes to give him his morning kiss. for some reason, it feels wrong. hollow, devoid of any sort of affection. 

…you make sure to give him a few more to make up for it. it makes him giggle and kiss you back. 

“sorry,” you respond back as cheerfully as you can, “it’s nothing, really! guess i stayed up a little too late today.”

…sevens, what are you thinking, doubting your boyfriend? you’re just the worst, aren’t you? he doesn’t deserve that, not after all he’s done for you! someone who doesn’t love you wouldn’t walk you to class every single day. he’s done too much for you to chalk it up to simple love-bombing!

besides, who knows floyd better, ace, or you? obviously, you! you’re his partner! so why are you even bothering listening to ace? ace, of all people?!

you know what floyd’s like. you know that if he’s interested in something, he’ll chase after it for a while before it gets old and he ditches it. but those are things. objects. you do the same thing sometimes, abandoning a book if you start to get tired reading it. but people are a whole different matter. he wouldn’t do that to people, would he? would he ditch a person like that?

no. he wouldn’t! you know he wouldn’t.

…would he?

“hey,” you say suddenly, and he peers down at you curiously. 

“yeah?”

“if… hypothetically,” you start, trying to figure out how to articulate your thoughts, “jade wasn’t cool anymore, would you… abandon him? like, you weren’t having fun anymore with him.”

“if jade wasn’t cool anymore, huh…?” he hums in thought, shoving his hands into his pocket, “...nah. that’d never happen.”

you blink. okay, maybe his brother was a bad example. blood is thicker than water, or something. you can’t say you’re too surprised. 

“really?” you prompt, “not at all?”

“no way,” he shakes his head, “i mean, if he was, i’d totally drag him to the bottom of the ocean and let him get ganged up on by sharks. but i’d never get bored of jade!”

on second thought, maybe blood isn’t thicker than water. you shiver despite yourself. if that’s the treatment jade gets, you’re horrified to even think about what’s going to happen to you. maybe ace was right after all…? 

“why’d ya ask though, shrimpy?” he says, pinching your cheek, “someone got ya thinking that i’m gonna ditch you if you get boring?”

wow. bullseye. you forget how perceptive he can be sometimes. you laugh nervously, dismissing his concerns with a wave of your hand.

“nothing like that,” you say, like a liar, “just thinking.”

yeah. yeah! you’re just overthinking it all. you mentally kick yourself for believing ace’s stupidity once again, and vow to make it up to floyd by being extra sweet and nice and cool. good thoughts, happy thoughts. you’re going to have a good day with your boyfriend and you’re going to celebrate living one more year with absolutely zero negative thoughts! 

(and yet, you still find that nagging “what-if” gnawing at the back of your mind.)

“floyd…” you manage to work up the courage to call out as you both sit in one of the mostro lounge booths. he’s supposed to be on the job, but he decided on a whim to skip and hang out with you. he says it’s more fun being with you than running around taking people’s orders. 

you didn’t know how you felt about that, considering your recent revelations, but you smiled back regardless. after all, doubts or no doubts, he is still your boyfriend. and you want to spend your birthday with the guy you really like! 

“what’s up, shrimpy?” he responds, chewing on your milkshake straw. despite serving it to you, he’s taken it for himself, the thief.

you steel your nerves, drawing in a breath. even though you told yourself earlier this morning that it was all nothing, you couldn’t stop thinking about ace’s words all day. so, you’re going to confront him for the second time today! but not in a roundabout way like before, no no no, you’re going to ask him head-on if he’s gonna leave you if you become a bore! as they say, communication is key, right?

“do you…” you pause, palms suddenly feeling very sweaty, “...like me?”

floyd blinks at you. once… twice…

“are you confessing to me again?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“huh?” you sputter out, “no, no, i’m not confessing to you again, i–”

“awh, shrimpy, i already told you i liked you a week ago! your brain’s been real scrambled today, huh? don’t worry, i know just the way to unscramble it!” 

and with that, he jumps up from his seat and runs off. you can only stare wide-eyed and slack-jawed as he pushes his way towards the mostro lounge kitchen and disappears behind the double doors. 

you thought he’d come back in a few minutes or so, but no. he took until closing. had he done this any day but today, you would’ve let it slide. even before you two were dating, you used to wait for him all the time in this specific booth, waiting for him to finish up. but now…

you just feel bad. like you got stood-up or something. you couldn’t even finish your milkshake, you were so down in the dumps. not that you could’ve anyway, floyd chewed your straw to bits. the downsides of having a boyfriend with sharp teeth, you suppose.

but just when you were about to give up, go home, and text him later that you weren’t feeling well, floyd bursts out from the kitchen and places an absolutely huge ice cream sundae on the table. 

“ta-da!” he beams, sliding into the seat across from you with a grin, “whaddaya think? pretty cool, right?”

you gape at the monstrosity that floyd just laid before you. you’re not even sure what flavor the ice cream is. you think he took a scoop from every single tub the mostro lounge had and threw them all in, though it’s hard to tell by the way he’s drowned the whole thing in sauces and whipped cream. you look closer and spot a brownie and cookie layer completely drowned in the mess of sugar. are those… gummy worms too?

“this is…” you start, then immediately clamp your mouth shut. you’re not sure what he’d do if you told him this is simply too much. 

floyd’s smile only grows. “totally awesome, i know. i’m a cooking prodigy! azul chewed my ear out about it, saying that i’m wasting resources ‘n’ that i should be at the front helping the actual customers, but he let it go eventually. he’s gonna force me on dish-washing duty later, but it’s okay because i did it for shrimpy!”

your heart thumps loudly in your chest, the negative thoughts you were harboring seeming to fade away at his declaration. you can’t help but smile back at him, the way he so eagerly awaits your praise melting your doubts away.

“it is awesome,” you say softly, “you’re awesome. thank you so much.”

floyd seems to practically radiate pride, that maniacal smile you’re all too familiar with on full display. you gaze affectionately at the sharp row of teeth he sports. that’s your man right there!

“look, look,” he presses, “let me show you the best part.”

he turns the sundae around, and lodged haphazardly in between the glass and the sundae are two sugar cookies. 

they look like… you. and floyd. 

the one resembling floyd is messily frosted. there was an obvious attempt to create his signature smile, but it seems like the frosting tip was just a bit too big. and the frosting tip for his hair seems like it was too small, so every strand just looks like well-cooked blue spaghetti. 

but yours is almost identical to you. obviously, he’s taken a few artistic liberties, but compared to floyd’s? yours looks like a professional baker did it. it appears to you that between the time it took for him to make his cookie and the time it took to make yours, he got a rather significant boost in cookie decorating skills. 

“aren’t they cute?” he says happily, “i worked really hard on them, y’know. never knew how hard it was to frost cookies!” 

you gingerly pick your cookie up. the more you look at it, the more you feel your face warm. it’s like you’re falling in love all over again. 

it really does look like you. you wonder how long he had to stare at a picture of you to get it down so well. or maybe he’s got your face memorized so well that he can recall every detail? either way, you feel a flutter in your stomach.

“hey-hey, shrimpy,” floyd calls, “show me your cookie real quick?”

you blink. slowly, you turn the cookie to him, and he smushes the face of his own cookie onto the face of yours. the frosting smears against your fingertips as you gasp at the sudden destruction floyd has caused. 

“look, they’re kissing!” he giggles childishly, unfazed by the hours of his hard work he just disregarded. you stare shocked at the cookie sandwich that floyd has just created. 

he smiles at you, with his sharp teeth and stained uniform, and boops your nose with his finger. “happy birthday shrimpy.”

and then you realize, sevens, how could floyd ever leave you?

“...you know what,” you say breathlessly, “you know what, i think the real floyd should get some love, too.”

you reach over the table to grab him by his collar and pull him in for a kiss. it’s just as calamitous as the cookie kiss, just lips smashing against lips, but you both pull away laughing and red-faced and wholly in love. 

“so?” he prompts, propping himself up on one hand to stare at you, “your brain all fixed up now?”

you smile at him. really smile at him. “yeah. all fixed. thank you, floyd.”

…wait, so, you have to eat this mess of a sundae he created now, right?

note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! not only is this my first request, this is also a BIRTHDAY REQUEST??? oh boy. I REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE this fic gives you nothing but good blessings and much fortune because by the time i was done writing i realized maybe writing a hurt/comfort fic wasn't the way to go for a birthday present. NONETHELESS i do hope the comfort balanced out the hurt and that the hurt didn't hurt too bad!!! may you receive nothing but the best and may you live to see the next birthday with mr floyd leech himself! <3 <3 <3 <3

[pretty-little-mind33]

I just wanted to ask if you could make headcanons about being in a relationship with Pietro (I don't remember if I already asked for that, and I'm sorry if I did, I'm not rushing you 😭😭), and another one with Sergai? It doesn't matter if it takes a while, I totally understand, and thank you for all your fics, I love them 💖💖💖

~ i hope you like this, darling 🫶 been on a tiny bit of a writers block so this headcanon list was a good thing to write! ~

• with Pietro, friends to lovers is the only way!

• he has trouble with his feelings. he has trouble understanding them because he becomes overwhelmed and so in the beginning, it's difficult.

• plus, he has trauma so loving someone else is hard for him— he doesn't like the possibility of loosing you like he lost his parents.

• so being your friend, becoming your best friend, is the first step!

• his love language is physical touch and quality time! He always has to be touching you in some way (his hand in yours, playing with your hair…) and he loves planning days out around the city with you!

• Pietro is very loving and he's also funny. he adores making you laugh and he'd do anything in his power to make you laugh when you're sad or crying or hurt (to distract you from the pain).

• once he's your boyfriend, the quality time becomes more domestic. he tries less—and not in a bad way. he's comfortable just laying around, reading or watching a show, and it's as good as planning a whole day like he used to (he would get himself worked up, the poor boy).

• when he does take you on dates, he goes all out now! He knows all your favorite things because he is observant so he'll take you to your favorite restaurant unprompted!

• Pietro's favorite way to spoil you is by doing things for you! He's very in tune with your emotions once he'd finally dating you!

• he never forgets an anniversary or a birthday, although you're worried he does because he's always spacey and all over the place 🥺 but he keeps a calendar specifically for your events, nothing else lmao.

• you and Wanda being friends is VERY important.

• he adores you and teaches you how to say things in Sokovian! he always teaches you about his culture and his traditions. it would take a while for him to open up, but once he does he doesn't hold back.

• he trusts you easily and he isn't jealous. he hates when other men flirt with you, but he is never jealous because he knows you are his and his alone!

• he is very protective over you though! like no one hurts his girl. ever.

* * *

warnings: mentions of sex

• i think the courting before the relationship would be involuntary stalker-ish 😭

• like he's obsessed with you. he can smell you everywhere! maybe he met you when he was visiting his brother in London and he hasn't stopped thinking about you and only you.

• for the first few months you don't even meet him and yet he's just there—watching. making sure you're safe.

• he never does anything weird or breach your privacy in ways that would make you hate him, he's just like your guardian angel 😏

• when he does talk to you, you're instantly intrigued. he's rugged and handsome and unlike any man you've ever met. you like him.

• your relationship starts with sex. you bring him to your apartment and have intense, weirdly passionate for someone you just met, sex.

• when you wake up, he's gone. but eventually he comes back with a pastry from a nearby shop and your relationship starts.

• Sergei is good at reading you and knowing what you're feeling without you needing to speak or ask him. he just knows.

• he visits London more than necessary to spend time with you, letting you be the second person on his phone 🥺

• he waits to tell you what he does for work. he doesn't want to scare you or make you feel unsafe.

• you are safe. you always are with him.

• once you know and you accept him for who he is, Sergei is wrapped around your pinky until you let him go. he would do anything for you.

• he has trust issues so whenever he starts an argument, it's because he was feeling a little insecure and didn't know how to bring up his feelings. his father never let him.

• he's never violent with you but he does yell in the beginning. which scares you, so he quickly learns to leave for a walk to calm down instead.

• you promise him that you aren't leaving him. he loves words of affirmation. he needs them because he hasn't heard many of them from his father.

• he's very gentle with you normally, touching you as if you are something to be worshiped. which he does. he worships you.

• his love language is gift giving. whenever he is away, he will always brings you back a present from his home in the woods. and it's always thoughtful.

• he will teach you some words in Russian and call you pet names in Russian.

• eventually, he asks you to move in with him. you're unsure because living in the woods is scary and you are afraid you'll miss your friends and family.

• Sergei doesn't force you. he tells you you don't have to decide immediately but he really wishes you will. but he's not forceful. he gives you time and he waits.

• when you decide you want to live with him eventually. and you don't regret it. Sergei is very devoted to you (he is very protective over you, duh). he also brings you back to London wherever you want, no hesitation.

[shadola]

꒰ა hair loss . . .

୨ৎ shadow helps comfort you through tough times and harsh changes

shadow x f. reader. angst. fluff. human shadow a.u. established relationship. reader has a chronic illness that causes hair loss. reader has curly hair, but honestly that part can be ignored. wc :: 1.8k

note from the lamb :: this is very self-indulgent,,

reaching over in search of your warmth, shadow instead found a cold, empty mattress where you had been laying before. you'd been out of bed a while, long enough for your body heat to dissipate from the spot.

this woke shadow up quickly. he groaned softly as he wiped the sleep left in his eyes away, and lifted himself off the bed. he could hear you coughing, a harsh, dry, and violent sound that reverberated down the hall. he followed the noise, scratching his lower stomach and yawning as he made his way to the bathroom.

you noticed him right away, turning your head to face him right as he entered the doorway. "oh shadow" your voice was strained, throat sore and tired from your aggressive coughing fits. "did i wake you up ?"

shadow shook his head. "no" he answered, "i woke up on my own" it was only half true, but he could see the look in your eyes. you were sore, and in pain, and he didn't want to make you feel any worse. guilt for waking him up was the last thing you needed. "are you okay ?" he asked

you didn't answer his question, turning to face the sink again. you were staring at yourself in the mirror, your look intense and almost disgusted as you looked at your reflection. your hand rose to your head, running your fingers through your hair. by the time you had gotten to the end of it, you had a sizeable amount of hair around your fingers.

shadow frowned, looking around the bathroom counter. the granite top around the sink was covered in your hair.

"it's getting worse" you said, voicing the thing both you and shadow were already thinking. "more of my hair is falling out"

shadow's eyes moved back up to you. the hair loss was becoming more obvious. but he could clearly see chunks of your hair were thinner than others, and in certain parts it was so thin he could see the skin of your scalp. "hey, it's okay" he knew it wouldn't help you feel any better.

people always said that hair was just that, hair. they always say 'it's just hair. it'll grow back'. but that was never really true. hair is such a big part of a person's identity. the color, the texture, the style. it was a way of self expression, something that connected a person to their roots, their family, their culture. it's never just hair.

and shadow knew this. he knew your hair was important to you. he knew you spent so much time taking care of it, giving your curls the best treatment possible, putting them in the best styles to protect them. he could only imagine how jarring it would be to see it all falling out.

he could come up with some idea. his hair was important to him too. he rarely cut it other than trimming off dead ends, he'd been growing it out for years. dying it, keeping it healthy. it was part of who he was, the same way your hair was a part of who you were. but he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to go through losing it, and not being able to do anything to stop it.

"here, sit down" shadow grabbed a towel from the rack hanging on the wall and laid it down on the bathroom floor. he nodded to it, waiting for you to take a seat before grabbing a hairbrush and scissors, and moving the small bathroom trash-bin near him. he sat down behind you, and as gentle and tender as he could gathered your hair, and pulled it to your back.

"what are you doing ?" you asked. but shadow didn't answer. he worked in silence, using a mix of his hands, the hairbrush and scissors to trim, and remove the dead and loose pieces of hair from your head. he did his best to not pull too much out, doing his best to only get the pieces that were already falling out.

less than a few minutes in he already had a good amount of your hair in the bin. interested, you tried turning your head to see what exactly he was doing. though you already had some idea, you were curious to see how much more you had lost.

before you could see though, you felt shadow's hands on your jaw, gently turning your head away, facing your forwards again. "don't worry about it" his voice was soft, basically a whisper, like he was preventing non-existent viewers from hearing this tender and vulnerable moment. "you don't need to see it"

it took just under five minutes before he was satisfied with his work. your hair was significantly shorter, but shadow had managed to cut it in a way that had mostly covered the bald spots, and made the thinner sections of your hair blend in practically seamlessly with the rest of your head. he was quite proud of himself, actually. "stay right there, baby"

you nodded your head, and shadow rose to his feet, grabbing the garbage bin with him. he cleared off the bathroom counter of your hair, putting it in the bin with the hair he had trimmed off. when it was all cleaned off, he unraveled a few handfuls of toilet paper from the roll, using it to cover the lost hair. he adjusted the paper, adding more until he was sure the hair was visible anymore.

"can i get up now ?" you asked, looking up at him from your spot on the bathroom floor. shadow nodded, taking your hand and helping you to your feet. once you were standing, his hands moved to your shoulders, putting you in front of the mirror again.

"what do you think ?" he asked, "does it feel any better ?"

you took a moment to look at your reflection, hand reaching up almost instinctively to run your fingers through your hair. shadow reached up to grab your hair, pulling it away from your hair. "try not to touch it too much"

you nodded, "i like it.." you finally said "it looks,, normal"

shadow hummed, nodding his head. "i think you look beautiful. you know that, right ?"

you turned to face him, though he was too busy looking at you through the mirror. "even with all my hair gone ?" you asked

"mhm" shadow hummed, nodding his head. "you're always going to be the most beautiful girl in the world to me. until the world ends"

you couldn't help but smile, though it was a little bittersweet. you didn't like to think about it, but you knew at this rate you'd be losing most, if not all of your hair in due time. it was comforting to know that it wouldn't change how shadow thought of you, even though your opinion of yourself would change greatly.

you were pulled out of your thoughts suddenly when you noticed shadow grabbing the scissors again. for a second, you thought he was going to put them away. you didn't realize what he was really doing until the blades of the scissors were already in his hair. "what are you doing ?!" your eyes widened, brows furrowing as you watched shadow begin cutting away at his hair.

his hair fell to the ground, the ends dyed deep red completely gone. by the time he was done, his hair that had just moments ago reached his mid-back, now barely brushed against his chin.

you were dumbfounded, staring at him with your eyes wide and mouth agape. "what.. why did you do that ?" you asked him

shadow shrugged his shoulders, "why not ?" he answered your question with one of his own. but it didn't really give you an answer at all.

"because your hair !" you exclaimed

"yeah. my hair" he repeated, crouching down to sweep the hair up from the ground with his hands. he dumped it in the bin with your hair and the toilet paper. "so what ?"

you could feel your eyes burning. whether it was from your tiredness or tears building up against your lash line, you didn't know. "but you love your hair"

"i love you more," he responded. he stood up again, reaching out to you and resting his hand on the small of your back. "let's go back to bed, okay ?" you nodded your head and let shadow guide you back down the hall.

climbing into bed made you realize just how exhausted you were, both physically and mentally. you weren't even sure if shadow had gotten into his side of the bed before you had fallen asleep.

it was well past noon the next day when you woke up again, warm rays of light spinning in through the blinds, leaving stripes of gold across the bedroom. shadow was missing from the bed, the sheets on his side neatly made, blanket tucked under the mattress.

you got out of bed, slowly making your way out of the room. your body was still sore, joints and muscles in a pain you had learned to live with for the most part. you made your way to the living room, where you were met by shadow. he was sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table as he watched the t.v. a show that looked like an old mecha anime. probably from the 90's if you had to guess by the style of the art and animation.

his eyes were fixed to the screen, a hot cup of coffee in his hands. he was dressed for the day, dark washed denim jeans, and a baggy band t-shirt. your eyes landed on his hair, the brain fog from your sleep clearing, you remembered the events from last night.

it looked like he had gone back and fixed it up a bit. the front of his hair brushed against his cheek bones, and the underside of the back of his head was shaved down close to his head. the red dye that had been in his hair had been almost all cut off, the only remaining bits were at the very tips of his bangs. though, knowing how much shadow enjoyed the red dye, he'd probably touch it up again soon.

"mornin' baby" he greeted, pausing the t.v and turning his attention to you. "how'd you sleep ?"

"i slept well," you answered, sitting down next to him. you reached up to touch his hair, running your hand over the shaved underside. it was soft, and despite the style being something you'd never seen on him, the short hair suited him well. "i like your hair"

you didn't miss the smile that crossed his lips, even though it was only there for a second. "thanks, love" he said "and i like yours too"

[tswwwit]

Here's a stupid meet-the-sibling thing from Portal AU!

Dipper checks his watch for the third time in two minutes, foot tapping nervously against the pavement. Mabel’s usually one to run late, but not this late. 

Twenty minutes have passed since they were supposed to meet up at this coffee shop, and between the fact that his twin’s always eager to see him, and the odd magical blips on his radar in the last hour, he’s starting to wonder if she’s gotten herself in trouble. Again. 

Driven by worry, he checks his phone again - the regular one. No texts, no missed calls. A second check shows nothing on his other phone either, which is arguably just as worrying but for different reasons.

Dipper slumps back in his seat, rubbing at his eyes. 

Great. Exactly what he needed. As if this whole conversation wasn’t going to be weird enough, now he’s got more to stress about. A sister in trouble, maybe, and a magical incident, probably. Not to mention who would obviously get involved with one of those, just to add the cherry on top of a messed up situation.

He’s just about decided to get up and start investigating when he hears the shout.

“Dipper!” 

Jerking up from his seat, Dipper turns towards his sister’s voice. 

Mabel runs down the sidewalk, arms raised and waving wildly, sending her bracelets banging against each other as her earrings bounce along with her steps. She doesn’t slow down as she approaches, instead throwing herself forward until Dipper has to catch her hug with an ‘oof’ of effort. 

He hugs her back in response and gets squeezed so hard it nearly takes the breath out of him, including a brief moment where he’s worried that her earrings will catch on his clothes. 

After a moment he pushes her back, smiling. How long has it been since he’s seen her in person? Four months? Five? From the occasional phone call he knew she was doing well, but it’s good to see her looking so happy in person.

“It’s good to see you.” He gives her a big pat on the back, and gets a ‘bwomp bwomp’ in return. 

“You too, bro-bro.” Mabel steps away, then blinks in surprise. “You look great! Is that a new look?” She gives him a once over, then beams, patting her cheeks. “Oh my gosh, that’s perfect timing!”

“Well, I-” Dipper plucks at his shirt - it’s not that different from his usual, just better fitted. 

So, he may or may not have gotten a lecture on fashion. A very long one. Followed by several insistent recommendations about his outfits, including having a literal pile of clothes dumped on him out of nowhere. He didn’t think it made that big a difference. But maybe it does?

“Okay, okay, I know you had something important you wanted to talk about, but listen.” Mabel rushes to speak, bubbling over with enthusiasm. Dipper lets her take his hands and clasp them tight as she bounces in place. “I just met. The hottest guy.”

“Ugh,” Dipper groans, shoulders slumping. Not another shitty crush. He thought she was over those by now. Still, if it puts his own thing off… “What kind of jerk is it this time?”

“Okay, one? Not a jerk! And two: He’s not for me, you dork!” 

“Wait, what?” Dipper holds her at arm’s length, staring. 

“So like I said,” Mabel continues, giving him a Look. “I met this guy, and we got to talking, and he’s, like, super fun - but clearly into dudes. So I sorta mentioned a certain brother, and guess what! He likes magic, and monsters, and he even says he has a thing for nerds!” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s perfect. You’ll love him.” 

With another groan, Dipper drags a palm down his face. 

Damn it. He knows that she worries about him finding someone since he’s always on the move. Between trying to keep up with the jobs, and tracking monsters, and everything else in his life, he rarely has time for a break. Mabel playing matchmaker isn’t new. Only her choice of candidate, which sounds strangely.. On point?

Hell, a while ago - less than two months, at that - he might have welcomed an intro to this guy, whoever it is. It wasn’t like he was meeting a lot of people himself. 

But oh god. The timing.

“Look, I’m glad you thought of me, but-” Dipper starts, holding up his hands in defense.

“Oh no. Nope! No more of this ‘too busy’, or ‘probably not my type’ stuf. I vetted him Dipper,” Mabel insists, lower lip pouting out - oh god, the puppy eyes, he has to turn away -  “You’re on the road all the time and all alone all the time. So if you aren’t gonna try and meet someone, I gotta have your back.”

Dipper tilts his head back, shuts his eyes, and prays deep down for strength. 

He didn’t want to open with this information. It’s a pretty long story, one with a lot of twists and turns, even some bits that she’s going to feel very ‘I knew it!!’ about. But a little sisterly smugness is way, way better than getting dragged into a date with some guy. 

Even if Dipper turns it down first thing, it could end… Pretty badly. 

He opens his mouth to say so, and gets interrupted by hands clapping on his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“Oh my god, don’t look now.” She whispers, turning him back to look at her when his head instinctively swivels. “But he’s right here. I didn’t think he’d show up this soon!”

“Why shouldn’t I look at the guy you’re trying to hook me up with.” He says, flat. It comes out a bit garbled from the pressure on his cheeks.

“Because you’ll freak out thinking he’s out of your league! And he’s not!” Mabel insists, shaking him urgently. “Just be cool for once, okay?”

Dipper has never, ever been cool for a single instant in his life. He doesn’t know why his twin thinks he’s even capable of it. Add on the multiple reasons he can’t exactly flirt with some random dude that Mabel met on the street, and it’s a recipe for infinite awkwardness. 

Before he can explain why this is a bad idea, on so many levels, Mabel straightens up. 

“Hey, glad you made it” She beams at a point over Dipper’s shoulder. “Let me introduce you to-”

A cheerful laugh interrupts her, high and bright. It lingers longer than it should, seconds past the point where it’d be appropriate - then two firm hands clap onto Dipper’s shoulders, squeezing tight. 

“Well, well, well, well, well!” The voice behind him oozes smug pleasure. The grip on his shoulders tightens briefly, then slides down to his biceps in a slow, appreciative stroke. “So this is the famous Dipper Pines, huh?”

The voice, the touch. The smug, amused tone of someone pulling off an amazing joke that nobody’s caught onto yet-

Yeah, that all tracks. 

Dipper doesn’t resist when the man whips him around, frowning up into the beaming face of Bill goddamn Cipher. 

“Boy, you weren’t kidding! He is cute!” Bill exclaims, expression perfectly surprised and delighted. Like he’s never seen this face before in his life. He turns towards Mabel. “And you say this guy’s single?”

“Yep!” She gives a big double-thumbs up. Another person might mistake the way her eye’s moving as a twitch, but it’s just a million winks at Dipper, packed into too small a space. 

Bill lets out a low whistle. “Dang, that’s a shame.” The grins creeps up another fraction. “A smart guy woulda snagged him up the moment they saw him in person!”

Dipper lets out a strangled sound from his throat. Despite the… everything, his face feels hot, turning pink with embarrassment.

He glares at this smug, double-talking jackass. Bill beams back at him with unashamed delight.

From the side, Mabel hisses in annoyance at his reaction. She gestures towards Bill insistently, waving over his body, his arms. She points at his face twice, eyes wide like Dipper hasn’t seen it yet.

But there’s no point in her pointing. Dipper’s well acquainted with every part of his boyfriend. 

Including his tendency to not mention important facts.

So there’s the reason she was late. The reasons for the magic pulses - of course his stupid demon wouldn’t give him any heads up that he was already planetside. And the reason why the guy she met was oh-so-conveniently into nerds, especially ones related to Mabel friggin’ Pines. 

Why did Dipper think mentioning his family was a good idea? It’s only given Bill more chances for chaos. 

Or in this case, a really stupid prank.

“Now let’s see,” Bill says, more contemplative now. His eye roves over Dipper, head to toe. “What else you got going, kid?”

But. Okay, the attention’s nice. It’s never not been nice, even when it’s been creepy and strange and inhuman. 

Maybe playing along a little couldn’t hurt?

“I-” Dipper starts rubbing the back of his neck. If he looks his boyfriend in the eye while lying like a rug, he’ll never pull this off. “Well, I-”

“Oh! Like I said, he’s really into magic. Like you!” Mabel interrupts, bouncing in place. Her voice lowers, as if sharing a secret. “He does freelance work, y’know?”

“Is that so!” Bill’s mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. Dipper half expects him to clap a hand to his cheek in astonishment. “Why, I never! A monster hunter? Right in front of me?”

“You betcha!” Proudly, Mabel sets fists on her hips. All too eager to hype man her brother before he’s said anything himself. “On the track of a dangerous criminal and everything!”

“Wow!” Bill, looking suitably impressed, somehow avoids having his pants set aflame from the sheer force of lying. “I bet he’s a nasty customer, too! A real devilish fellow!”

God, the puns hurt. Dipper can’t help but make a face, which gets another disappointed look from his sister, and a sinister gleam starts building up in Bill’s eye - 

Alright, that’s enough. 

Lying to Mabel would have been bad enough - but between their discussion and Dipper not getting a word in, Bill’s getting so full of himself that he might just explode. And that needs nipping in the bud, immediately.

Dipper shoves Bill back a pace, brushing off his shirt. He gives this asshole the full narrow-eyed glare and, ignoring the aghast look from his sister, flips his asshole boyfriend off. 

“Hey!” Affronted, Mabel takes a step in, taking his arm. “What the heck, Dipper?”

“Mabel, listen,” Dipper starts, only to get shushed by his sister and turned to face Bill by said asshole.

“And you’re feisty as well? Jackpot!” Bill beams, taking his head in his hands. “Now, let’s see about the rest of ya.”

Before Dipper can guess what that means  - or even ask - Bill tugs his shirt up. The only reason it doesn’t come completely off is because Dipper recognizes the motion and jerks his arms down in time. 

“Hey!” He struggles with Bill’s grip on his shirt, planting a palm on Bill’s face as he leans in for closer inspection. “What the hell, man?”

“Yep, that’s a fighter alright! Real nice view!” Bill says, after lingering too long ogling unwillingly exposed flesh. He lets the shirt drop - Dipper spends a second straightening it out - only to grab onto his butt next in a full-palm fondle. “Aha! Now that’s where it’s at!”

It’s so like Bill to start flinging compliments while completely breaking every polite convention known to man. He can never do anything straightforward. Possibly he’s allergic. With a swear, Dipper grapples with his jackass boyfriend again, trying to retain some semblance of dignity. 

Mabel stands off to the side, mouth agape. Silently staring between the two of them, too stunned to react. 

Clearly she wasn’t expecting this kind of crap. And honestly? Dipper can’t blame her. Bill’s pretty good at covering his asshole tendencies when he wants. 

Dipper can handle it, though. He’s already halfway pried the groping grasp off his butt when Bill’s other hand rotates to the front, taking hold with alarming swiftness. The high-pitched yelp he lets out is, thankfully, only from surprise.

“Hey!” And that gesture must have finally shaken Mabel from her shock, because now she looks offended. “Bill! What are you doing?”

“Cute, smart, decent body - he’s just like you said! The whole package!” Bill gives his handful a friendly jiggle, looking thrilled to have found a part to grab where he can’t get smacked away lest there be collateral damage. He turns towards Mabel with a grin. “How’s twenty bucks sound?”

The alarmed “What the hell!” from her comes out at the same time as Dipper’s offended, “Only twenty?”

“Oh, no no no,” Mabel waves her hands rapidly, the sleeves of her sweater nearly covering them in the rush.  “He’s not for sale, what the heck!”

“Oh, of course!” Bill releases Dipper’s crotch to smack himself dramatically on the forehead, shaking his head. “Because he’s his own person! With his own life decisions and everything!” His expression turns serious, nodding as if he actually cared about that fact. “No problem, Shooting Star! I’ll just kidnap him instead.”

A sudden swipe behind Dipper’s knees sends him into a swearing fall. One that’s quickly interrupted as he’s scooped up into Bill’s arms, startled and staring into an excited smile. 

Bill gives Mabel a perfunctory half-bow, bounces Dipper in his arms once - then starts sprinting down the street. 

To Mabel’s credit, there’s only a half-second pause before she follows.

“Help! Brother-napping in progress! Stop, you creep!” Mabel shouts, almost louder than Bill can manage. With some effort, Dipper peeks over his shoulder to see a flail of color trailing behind after them, one sweater-clad arm shaking in fury. “You better let him go, or you’ll regret this!”

Bill cackles louder, chest shaking - and one thing about being a demon is that he can really book it when he needs to. 

Dipper finds himself clinging to his ‘kidnapper’ tight, just to feel more comfortable about not being dropped. Not that he needs to worry about that. Even sprinting full-out and laughing, Bill’s not even breathing hard as he flees the wrath of righteousness. 

Dipper thunks his head against his awful, stupid boyfriend’s shoulder, and rolls his eyes. 

Welp. He’s not sure what else he expected. 

Bill’s always going to be Bill, after all. An evil, bored, antagonising force, bent on finding the funniest thing to do and jerking people around by it at every turn. And a vengeful, chaotic asshole. 

It’s hardly surprising that he and he took offense at someone arranging dates with his boyfriend. Whether or not Mabel knew their situation doesn’t matter in his view. It’s the principle of the thing - and, of course, a chance to be a total dick. 

But all things considered, it’s hardly the worst case scenario. 

Bill could have laid on the charm, gaslighting her into thinking he was a different kind of guy. Something that would make their introduction easier - and have her totally ignoring Dipper’s warnings about what kind of guy he is. 

But freaking her out was too funny, and that showed his true colors. And thank fuck for that. The last thing Dipper needs is another handsome guy charming her into a series of Bad Ideas.

As they round a street corner, Dipper uses the momentum to kick a leg free, planting heel against pavement. Bill slows as he tries to both stop him from falling and continue dragging him along. 

“Aw, c’mon,” Bill chides, making a valiant attempt to pick Dipper up again. “Let’s ditch the sibling and get moving! As far as she knows, I’m gonna do all kinds of dastardly things to ya. Terrible ones!” His eye glimmers, briefly unfocused - and Dipper takes the moment of distraction to get both feet on the ground. “Aww, hey!”

“Not a chance.” Dipper says, less annoyed than he’d like. He dodges another grab by stepping neatly to the side. “You’ve had your fun. Now at least try to behave for like, five seconds.”

One look at Bill’s face says that he’s not done with the fun, or at least thoroughly annoyed at its interruption - which means Dipper has to sweeten the pot. 

“I’m sure she’s panicking as we speak,” He adds, rolling his eyes at Bill’s look of pride. “And it was kinda funny. But at least try to good impression, jackass.” Resting a palm on Bill’s arm, he offers a shy smile. “Please?”

“Hmmm.” Bill hums thoughtfully. A second later, he shrugs. “Eh, sure! Probably wasn’t gonna get much mileage outta dragging it out anyway.”

Yep. Another win for Dipper Pines. He’s getting good at this demon-wrangling stuff. 

“Hey!” Mabel rounds the corner, steps clearly flagging. She leans against he building, then glares at Bill. “You can’t just-” 

Then she leans over, bracing herself on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Dipper’s surprised she caught up this fast, but it wasn’t without effort - he thinks one of her bracelets is missing, and her hair is a mess. 

Dipper offers her a hand, but she waves it off. There’s a thoughtful sound behind him, then arms circle his waist and drag him back into Bill’s grasp. 

“So. I see you’ve met Bill.” Dipper says, finally. He glares a bit over his shoulder as Billtugs him closer to settle in, chin tucked on his shoulder. Probably wearing the very smuggest smile he owns.

“Dipper, I’m sorry,” Mabel blurts. She’s still catching her breath, face red as she flails her sleeves in inarticulate protest. “I didn’t know-”

“That he was an asshole? A jerk? A totally weird creep?” Dipper holds up his hands before she can apologize again. “No, it’s fine. I already knew that. He’s… actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She pauses, taking in their position. How Dipper’s not struggling, or swearing, or hexing the shit out of his ‘kidnapper’. The worried frown turns more… contemplative. The lightbulb flickers. 

Dipper takes a steadying breath. 

Here goes.

“Mabel, this is… Bill Cipher.” He gestures at Bill, then shoves his head away from his neck before he can leave a hickey. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Mabel boggles at him. There’s no other word for it. Eyes wide, mind clearly racing as she ties in what just happened with how Bill looks and what she thought everything was like just five minutes ago. 

She takes a second, before finally landing on, “What?”

Yeah, that’s a reasonable reaction. 

But if they got along earlier, they’ll… probably get along okay, right? Now that Bill’s got the initial bullshit out of his system, they might even have stuff in common. 

Thank hell for that. Romance is kind of her thing, of course she’s interested. Good thing too. Compared to the rest of his family, Mabel is easy mode. 

Only a second later she claps her hands to her cheeks, gasping hugely. Dipper can almost see the questions about to burst out.

“Let’s go back, get some coffee, and I’ll tell you everything.” Dipper smiles, but speaks before she can start interrogating them on the street. He shrugs Bill off, getting his hand seized in the process. He squeezes it back.  “Trust me, it’s a long story.”

[dontopenfairies]

Up in the tree house Auggie and Ollie were playing by themselves, sitting on the warm wooden floor and acting out a story with Auggie’s plastic model zoo animals.

Auggie set down the hippo and stood up. “I need to go pee. I’m gonna just be a second.” He started to open the trapdoor to the ladder.

“Wait,” said Ollie. “Just go pee in your pants. No one else is here and it’ll dry before Lina finds out.”

Auggie hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fine. Look, I already went a couple times.” He sat up on his knees and pulled down his shorts a little bit so Auggie could see.

“Yeah, but you have a diaper on. That’s different.”

Ollie shrugged. “So what? Come on and keep playing with me. It’ll be okay. We’re outside so you won’t mess up any furniture or anything. It feels so good anyway…” He sat back down and let himself relax. “I’m going right now and it feels so good…”

Auggiensat back down tentatively. “Are you sure nobody’s going to find out?”

“I don’t think so. Just go pee.” Ollie picked up one of the animals again and made it walk towards the saucer they were using as a water trough.

Auggie sat back down on the warm wood. He tried to just let go but found that he was a little locked up. “I can’t make it come out,” he said.

“Don’t force it,” said Ollie. “Just relax. Just imagine you have a diaper on. You still have to wear them at night, right?”

“Who told you that??”

“Your girlfriend. Haha.”

Auggie picked up the hippo again. Just a few seconds later, he felt warmth spreading across his crotch. “I’m going,” he said quietly.

“See?” said Ollie. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Yeah,” said Auggie, starting to shift a little bit against the wood.

“Mmm,” said Ollie, setting down his toy and copying Auggie, wiggling a little bit against the wood.

“Can I…um…can I feel what your diaper’s like?”

“Yeah, of course! Are you curious?”

“Um…kinda. I haven’t worn a big diaper like that since I can remember. I just have to wear a pull-up at night.”

Ollie pushed the toys aside and scooted closer. He undid his fly and eased his shorts down again.

Auggie reached out and rubbed it, just for a second before snatching his hand away. “It’s really warm.”

“You can touch it more than that,” said Ollie. “It’s okay.”

Auggie raised his hand again, looking at the floor. He could feel heat rising in his face. He reached out again and rubbed Ollie’s diaper.

“It feels really good. Do you want me to do you too?”

Auggie didn’t answer but scooted closer, also kneeling up onto his knees. Ollie let his hand down onto Auggie’s wet pants and cupped his bulge. “It always feel better when you’re wet,” he told Auggie.

Auggie agreed but he didn’t want to say it aloud. They kneeled there for a couple more minutes and Auggie felt something building in him; he wanted to push Ollie over and rub on him and on his diaper. Just when he opened his mouth to say something someone knocked on the trapdoor. Both boys snatched their hands away.

“Everything okay, boys? Are you playing nice?” It was Lina’s voice.

“Yeah!!” said Ollie loudly. “Everything’s fine! Go away! No girls allowed!!”

“Yeah!!” said Auggie, too. “No girls!”

The trapdoor opened anyway. “That isn’t very nice. You boys better remember who’s in charge at my house.” She climbed into the treehouse and sat down in front of them. “Who’s in charge? I want both of you to answer.”

“You are, Lina.”

“You, Miss Lina…” Auggie looked away. He couldn’t think of a good way to hide his soaked jeans, much less the wet patch on the floor around him.

“What’s going on? You’re both blushing. Were you doing something naughty?”

Neither of them answered, and Lina stood up, hunching over under the low ceiling, and squatted very close to them.

“How come Auggie’s wet himself?”

“We were just playing,” said Auggie, looking down at the floor.

“Auggie, wetting yourself at your age is a big deal. Aren’t you meant to be 24 or something? I’m going to have to tell Polly.”

“You don’t have to tell her…I can just change in to some of Ollie’s pants and…”

“She’s still going to notice when she picks you up. And what’s going on down here?” She pointed to Auggie’s crotch. “It looks like you were getting pretty excited? Are you *sure* you weren’t playing naughty?”

Auggie still couldn’t take his eyes off the floor.

“You seem veryyyy reluctant to tell me. I think I know what that means.” She reached out and pinched Auggie’s ear, pulling him towards the trap door. “You’re coming down first. And then I’ll get my baby, too.”

Ollie watched as Lina made sure Auggie went down the ladder. Then she snapped her fingers at him and pointed at the trap door. He didn’t need to be told twice and hurried down, too.

Lina marched both of the to the bathroom and told them that if they were going to be naughty they needed to be somewhere appropriate. She left, telling them that she would be back soon.

“What’s she going to do?” asked Auggie. “I’ve never been bad at your house before.”

Ollie shrugged. “Usually she spanks me. Or makes me sit in my room. It probably won’t be so bad for me, though. I’m meant to go in my diapers, anyways. I think the rules are different for you.”

Auggie felt his face frown. This wasn’t fair at all. He couldn’t keep himself from shoving Ollie.

Ollie stumbled and righted himself against the counter. “No pushing! Do you want to get in worse trouble?”

Auggie didn’t really care anymore. He shoved Ollie against the counter and grabbed his wrists, squeezing them hard. He shoved his knee under Ollie’s crotch. And then, he didn’t really mean to do it, but as they struggled, his thigh started to rub against Ollie’s diaper.

Somehow they ended up on the tile, still fighting, but also humping against each other. Auggie started to feel that really warm, tingly feeling that made him want to go faster and faster. His hard-on was straining against his underwear and his fly and…

The door opened. “Boys!! Get up right now!”

They both scrambled to their feet.

“No fighting!” Lina grabbed both of them under their arms, hard. “You guys know that’s not okay!”

She pulled them into the bedroom.

“You know fighting is not okay,” she repeated. “Shame on both of you.” The boys hung their heads. “And I know what else you were doing.” Auggie felt his cheeks burning. He opened his mouth but Lina shushed him before he could say anything. “That is very naughty. You boys know you aren’t meant to do stuff like that if Polly and I aren’t around.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Lina…”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re going to be sorry after I spank you both. But I’m not going to do anything just yet. I called Polly and she’ll be over here very soon. She told me not to do anything to you until she’s here to watch.” Lina crossed to the dresser and took out a folded plastic sheet. She spread it over the bed. “Both of you sit down right here and think about what you did. If you’re still right here in the same spot, and you’re good during the punishment, we might let you finish what you were doing. But only if we’re keeping an eye on you.”

Lina shut the door and waited for the latch to click. Then she walked back to the kitchen, smiling to herself. She and Polly were going to have a very entertaining afternoon.

Auggie and Ollie sat in silence. Ollie started to apologize but Auggie shot him a look and he shut up quick. A few more minutes passed with no noise spare the clock ticking in the dark room.

Then Auggie spoke. “Ollie…I kind of have to go again.”

“Okay. Just go in the sheet. I don’t think that’s going to make a different about how much trouble we’re in. Are you scared? Do you want me to hold your hand? I don’t think that’s naughty.”

Auggie set his hand down on the sheet between them and Ollie picked it up and squeezed it. It wasn’t long before Auggie felt his jeans getting warm again. He sighed in satisfaction.

“All done?” asked Ollie.

“Yeah. Ollie?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I think this is going to be okay in the end.”

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek of the next chapter of Something to Sink Your Teeth Into

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Evan was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation for what was happening—Sally, solid and purring against his chest as he held her; the strength and warmth of a coven bond pulsing through him, restoring his magic faster than he’d experienced in years. He buried his face in Sally’s rough fur the way he used to when he was a child, unable to stop the tears that sprang to his eyes. “Sally,” he whispered, his voice choked and hoarse. “Sally…what…how…” His words broke on a rough sob and he finally raised his face from Sally’s fur. “How are you here?”

Sally pressed her forehead against his cheek, the familiar rumble of her purring filling his ears and it only made the tears spill faster. It was Sally. It was Sally.

I’ve been waiting so long. I’d begun to think I was wrong…that you’d never find your way to him.

Evan startled at that, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Huh? Wh-what do you mean?” Him? Him who? Surely she couldn’t be talking about…

He looked over at his vampire, who was watching the whole scene unfold in front of him with a sort of stunned confusion. The other two vampires were just as frozen, staring at Evan and Sally in disbelief. Slowly, he started to pull himself to his feet, his muscles protesting and his head swimming at the sudden change in altitude. He was recovering quickly…but he’d been dying less than an hour ago. He let out a soft, pained sound despite himself, and Tommy was suddenly at his side. His vampire’s strong arm slid under his, helping him up and then immediately pulling him close to Tommy’s side. Evan closed his eyes and opened himself fully to the bond that flowed between him and Tommy, nearly gasping out loud at the flood of emotions he could sense from his vampire.

Witches learned early how to dampen their feelings and emotions in a coven bond, how to keep them from overwhelming the coven. Vampire covens were not the same as witch covens, though—Tommy had no frame of reference for how to close that part of himself off. All of it was laid bare for Evan…his vampire’s worry, his confusion, his wariness over Sally’s sudden appearance, his heart-stopping relief that Evan was all right.

His love.

Evan could feel it—a thread that stretched effortlessly through every other emotion he could sense from his vampire. Unyielding. Unshakable. Tommy loved him already, needed him, wanted him…could not bear the thought of being apart from him. Whatever they were facing, Tommy would be right beside him because that was where he belonged. That was where he wanted to be. Not for anything he felt he owed Evan, or anything that Evan could do for him or give to him. Because he loved Evan and trusted Evan, and that was enough.

Evan was enough.

All his life, that had only been true for Maddie and Sally. And he loved them with all his heart and was so, so grateful for them…but this was different. This was someone who had no reason to want him, no obligation, no link, nothing binding them together. Evan’s magic had drawn them together, but he saw now that Tommy was right. It couldn’t force his vampire to love him like this. Tommy had chosen this. Chosen him. Just like he was choosing Tommy. No matter what happened, no matter how this awful knot of tensions they’d found themselves embroiled in resolved, Evan knew he was staying with Tommy.

He let himself sink into the bond—the impossible, unbelievable coven bond that had somehow formed between himself and his vampire. He had never heard of such a thing, didn’t even know how it was possible, but he wasn’t afraid. Only a short while ago, this would have terrified him. Would have sent him spiraling into fear and self-loathing at the idea that his magic had somehow once again trapped Tommy into something he didn’t want. Now, though? He’d have to talk to Tommy, to tell him what had happened, but wrapped securely in the echoes of Tommy’s love and trust, their coven bond singing in his blood, he wasn’t even a little afraid. Tommy would understand.

His vampire would want this. Want him. He had nothing to fear from telling Tommy about the bond.

He let Tommy take more of his weight as Sally finally pulled back from the crook of his neck, looking up at his vampire with a sharp, assessing look. Took you long enough, you damned fool, she said with a light scoff.

Evan let out a wet laugh, hugging her tightly again. Something deep inside him, something that had been lost and hurting for the past five years eased, and it was like he could take a full breath again after a vise had constricted his lungs. He had Sally. He had a coven. He had his vampire.

Everything. Almost everything he had been longing for, wishing for, back before he’d even known what the things he wanted were…was right here.

Tommy’s arm tightened around his waist, and he tugged Evan towards the living room. Sally shifted slightly, sliding out of Evan’s arms to land neatly on the floor and trotting ahead of them to leap up on the couch. She turned to face them expectantly, her tail twining primly around her feet in such a familiar gesture Evan almost started crying again. He let his vampire help him over to the couch and sank down onto it, his whole body relaxing when Sally immediately scrambled onto his lap.

“Maddie?” Evan asked urgently, the biggest and most important question he had bursting out of him, his voice sounding desperate even to his own ears. “Is Maddie okay?”

Sally batted at his cheek with a gentle paw. Your sister is well, she said, and it felt as though a ten ton weight he hadn’t even been aware he was carrying slid off his back. I contact Sebastian whenever I can. He assures me she is fine.

“Good,” he breathed, swallowing harshly. “Good, that’s—that’s good.”

“Evan,” Tommy interrupted gently. His voice was careful. “I’m—I’m gonna need some context here.” He sounded bewildered, throwing looks down at Sally that seemed more cautious than strictly warranted.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind knowing what the fuck is going on, either!” Sal added, boosting himself up to sit on the large island that dominated most of the kitchen.

Evan struggled to pull himself together. “This is Sally, guys,” he said, one hand finding its way to the rough fur on Sally’s back almost without conscious thought. “My…my familiar. Or—or she was, I—”

I shall always be your familiar, little love, Sally said fiercely, and Evan took a deep, shuddering breath. Tommy stepped closer to them, his hand lightly skating through Evan’s hair, though he didn’t sit down.

“Yeah, no, I got that. Just, that’s also the stray I’ve been feeding for like two years.”