#I would be a lot more sympathetic though if there wasn’t the constant use of dehumanizing language and blatant lack of care

[stardust-falling]

There is never an excuse to not use someone’s preferred name and pronouns. Unless they’re closeted around some people and ask you not to, there is literally no good reason to not just refer to them how they want to be. No one is being protected when you intentionally misgender a trans person, or when you insist on using a deadname— even if you “don’t agree” with the existence of trans people, or think that gender identity shouldn’t be treated the way it is in whatever way. You’re not standing up for yourself and you’re not standing up for others— you’re just being an asshole.

If your friend’s legal name was Katherine, and she told you “please don’t call me Katherine, I have negative associations with that name, call me Kathy instead,” then would you still insist on calling her Katherine because you don’t think it makes sense to use another name, even though you know it causes her significant emotional distress?

Intentionally deadnaming and misgendering someone because “it doesn’t make sense” or “you don’t agree” makes you just as much of an asshole as that. Changing the language you use to refer to someone hurts no one and helps them immensely. Intentionally misgendering someone just makes you look like an asshole and, quite frankly, stupid as well.

If you want to have an actual debate about the ethics of trans healthcare or whatever, the least you can do is actually respect your opponents. Fundamentally, respect for one another is key to proper debating. But no, you don’t want a debate, you just want to beat people down.

[starstwinkleplanetsshine]

Daughter of the Sea

New Fic alert!

I have been writing this in my head for over ten years. Actually sitting down and putting it on paper has been more emotional and fulfilling than I could've ever imagined. Meet Angie Jackson, a 14-year old who finds out she is a demigod and gets more than she ever asked for. Thrown into a world of monsters and gods and titans on the brink of war, with her twin brother (who she had no clue about) MIA from his Quest, she must learn quickly how to become the hero everyone expects her to be, before its too late.

This is a retelling of Battle of the Labyrinth and The Last Olympian where Percy isn't the only child of Poseidon, and doesn't have to shoulder his burdens alone.

I love Angie, and her story, dearly, and I have poured so much of myself into her. I hope you fall in love with her and her story as much as I have. Originally, I created Angie to play a very large role in the Heroes of Olympus series. However, I realized it made more sense for her to come in halfway through the PJO series. This fic (Daughter of the Sea) is the prequel work to the core of Angie's story, which is in HOO. In this story, you will see as Angie learns who she is, comes into her own, and becomes inseparable from her brother. In the next, you will see her become the hero she is fated to be. Without further ado, I welcome you into the world of Andromeda Jackson, Daughter of the Sea.

Chapter 1: I Walk into a Fireplace (Read on AO3 here)

Look, I didn’t know I was a half-blood. 

Growing up, a lot of adults would always call me special . They would gush to my adopted mom at parent-teacher conferences about what a hard worker I was, how I was creative and a great student and always ahead of my classmates. Apparently, I was a pleasure . To the other kids, though, I wasn't precious or special. I was just weird. A freak. A teacher’s pet and goody-two-shoes. So I got used to a double life of gold stars and straight A’s while getting pushed off the monkey bars. 

Recess was always the worst part of my day, and now that I was older, so was lunch. That was the only time I would ever get in trouble, even though I tried my best to keep my head down and stay calm when the other kids would pick on me. Sometimes I just couldn’t help it, though, and I would lose control and end up in the principal's office for giving my bully a bloody nose or ripping out a chunk of their hair. When asked why I had resorted to violence, I would reply with something along the lines of, 

“Suzie said my mom wasn’t my real mom,”

Or,

“Ally said ‘no wonder your real parents didn’t want you, freak!’” 

The principal would then give me a sad, almost sympathetic look, write a referral, and I would cry the whole way home. 

I knew what those kids said were lies—I knew my mom was my real mom even if she didn’t give birth to me. She had raised me ever since I was a baby and was the only family I had ever known. I knew she loved me, she told me so all the time. 

But I always had a nagging feeling that some part of the taunts were true. What if my birth parents really didn’t want me? What if they saw me and decided after a month or two that I wasn’t what they wanted, or that I wasn’t good enough, or worse, that they just didn’t love me? 

I always knew that I was adopted. My mom, Hannah, always told me that my birth parents did love me, very much, but they just couldn’t take care of me. She said they didn’t want to give me up, but they knew I would have a better life with different parents. 

I tried to believe her, but as the years went by, the voices of all those mean kids constantly ringing in my ears made it pretty difficult to hold onto that hope.

But maybe she was right–my life with my mom was pretty good (not counting the constant bullying and strange, scary creatures that only I could see).

Oh yeah, I haven’t mentioned that yet. 

I’ve been this way ever since I can remember. The earliest memory I have is from when I was around three, playing in our backyard. I was creating a concoction of mud, grass, and seeds when I heard a loud noise coming from the roof. When I looked up, I saw, clear as day, a beautiful white horse with black-speckled wings sprouting out of its back, just looking at me. Next thing I knew, I was climbing up a tree in an attempt to get onto the roof, causing my mom to rush out from the house in a panic, pulling me out of the branches while I screamed and cried that I wanted to see the pony. My mom then said that there was no pony on the roof, but I knew she was wrong. 

And that was just the beginning. 

I didn't see them all the time, maybe once or twice every month or so. Despite the infrequency, the sightings never stopped and I eventually just got used to them, learning quickly to keep them to myself. I couldn’t even share what I had seen with my mom, who would just write them off as my imagination, and I got called crazy by the neighborhood kids one too many times. I thought that after years of seeing creatures that looked like they came out of a sci-fi movie would prepare me for anything, but I was wrong. 

It was a hot day in early June and the heatwaves bounced off the boiling pavement and played tricks on my eyes. I had lived in Tucson, Arizona, for fourteen years, my entire life, so you would think the 120 degree summer days wouldn’t phase me anymore, but they were still horrible. It was the kind of heat that sucked every bit of moisture out of you and dried out your lungs. It was unbearable. Still, it was home, and I was riding my beat-up bike back from my best friend’s house, who luckily lived in my neighborhood. At 5pm it was cooler than it had been in mid-afternoon when the sun was at its height, but it was still far from comfortable, and I could feel sweat begin to trickle down my back, the low sun blinding my eyes. 

‘Only a few more blocks’ I said to myself, trying desperately to pedal as fast as possible. I couldn’t see the road well because of the heatwaves and sun, which wouldn’t normally be a problem except when an old woman is standing on the sidewalk directly in my path, which just so happened to be the case. She seemed to appear out of nowhere, and I slammed on my brakes, turning my handle bars hard, causing metal to screech and my tires to skid along the sidewalk. I stopped inches from the grandmother, and when I finally got a look at her face, I wondered if I had ever seen someone who looked so old. 

“My my, going a bit fast, were we?” The lady’s voice was slow and gravelly, her dour tone matching the look on her face. She wore a brown dress that was almost as wrinkled as her skin. 

“Sorry, ma'am, I didn’t see you. The sun–” 

“Ah ah, we mustn't go blaming others for our shortcomings. Right, Andromeda?” 

I stared at the woman in shock–I was sure I had never seen her before, but somehow she knew my name. My real name. 

“Right, sorry.” I straightened my handle bars and told myself she was just a crazy snowbird neighbor who must've heard one of the rare times my mom called me by my full name. “I’d better get home.” The way she was looking at me was starting to make me uncomfortable, and a feeling like an itching started in the small of my back and somehow I knew it meant I needed to go.

To my surprise, she put a wrinkled, leathery hand on my handlebars and gripped tightly so that I couldn’t move them. 

“Oh, my dear,” the itching moved up my spine to the base of my neck, “it’s rude to rush off.” 

“My mom expects me home for dinner and I shouldn’t be late.” The old woman’s platitudes were starting to annoy me, and it showed in the tone of my voice. I attempted to make a break for it, but she held on, stopping the bike. She was surprisingly strong. 

“Andromeda Jackson,” My eyes went wide–I never used my birth surname, and there was no way one of my neighbors would know it. I began to freak out and that itching feeling was getting worse and something deep in my gut was telling me to get out of there. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go just yet. There’s something I still need to know.” 

It was then that my ride home went from bad to really bad. 

The woman changed before my eyes, sprouting large, brown, leathery wings from her back and growing talons from her hands. She looked like a terrifying cross between a very large bat and a very old woman. I was too scared to scream. 

The creature was so close I could feel it's horrible breath on my face, and then it swiped at me. I reacted quickly, diving onto the ground onto a strangers front yard, the rocks digging into my skin. I hoped whoever owned the house wasn’t home, and by the time I rolled over to look for the beast, it was on top of me and I was sure I was about to die. 

My mind went to my mom—my wonderful, hard-working, loving mom-–and a new energy surged through me. My fear and confusion met with my anger and determination and I could feel a tension building inside of me, threatening to bubble over and spill out. I felt a tug deep in my stomach right behind my belly-button, kind of like being on one of those drop rides at a carnival but 10x more intense and way sharper, and I let out a yell.

The monster started to laugh before both she and I were pelted with water that sprayed from an out-of-control hose that had been lying in the yard. The water was more intense than it should've been, like the water from a firehose, and there was a split second where I thought the spray should be hurting a lot more than it actually was. It was the creature’s turn to scream, and something about the spray of the water on my skin gave me the strength to shove it off of me and roll away. I scrambled to my feet and held my hands up defensively, now ready to fight. But the monster just glared at me and growled. 

“My master’s suspicions about you were correct, Andromeda Jackson.” she surveyed me uncomfortably. “He will be most displeased. You’re lucky my orders weren’t to kill you—this time.” With that, she beat her large bat wings and hovered a few feet in the air. “I’m sure we will meet again, young one.” And with a final large beat of her wings, she soared away, flying low over me and messing up my hair with her talons as they barely cleared the top of my head. 

I stood there in shock for a few moments before jumping back on my bike and racing home as fast as I could. I ran into the house breathless, my face red and sweaty, leaving my bike strewn on the rocks in my front yard instead of putting it away. My mom jumped up from where she sat by the fire—why she had a fire going in the middle of an Arizona summer I never knew—but as long as I could remember, there was always a fire going in the house. Whenever I asked about it when I was young, my mom would say something about how important the hearth was to the heart of the home , and eventually I just stopped asking questions. After fourteen years, I was used to it. 

“Angie!” It was clear she could see that something was wrong. “Did you fall off your bike? Have an accident?” 

I stood staring with wide eyes and slowly shook my head. What could I tell her? 

“I–” My mom moved to me with concern, her hand gently going to my forehead. I pulled back in pain as she touched me, and when I saw her hands, there was blood on her fingers. The monster must've scratched me when it flew away, and I didn’t even notice. 

“What happened, love?” 

“You wouldn’t believe me.” My voice was small and I barely recognized it as my own. 

“Trust me, I would.” Something in the way she was looking at me made me want to trust her—but how could I?

“I…I can’t explain it.” She nodded as if she understood, which I didn’t understand. 

“Come to the hearth, I’ll put on a kettle and fix you up.” Sitting by the fire and sipping tea was always moms way to make everything better. The last thing I wanted was to be any hotter, but I listened and moved toward the flames. Strangely, as I sat on the ledge, I didn’t feel any heat. I let my eyes get lost in the fire, allowing myself to be mesmerized by the dancing and flickering oranges and yellows, and for the briefest moment I could’ve sworn I saw red, glowing eyes and a kind face looking back at me, but when I shook my head and opened my eyes again, it was gone. Maybe my head was hurt worse than I thought. 

Soon enough, I had a mug in my hand and a bandage on my forehead. My mom sat down and looked again at the fire beside her. 

“Angie,” her voice was gentle, “you saw something you can’t explain, didnt you?” 

I nodded, my eyes still fixed on my ocean-blue mug. 

“Something like a monster?” 

“Yeah.” 

Instead of acting surprised, she just sighed. “I knew this day would come.” Her words finally made me turn my head and look at her. 

“What?” 

“It’s hard to explain, but you’re…different.” 

“Yeah, I’ve known that for a while.” Let me tell you, it didn't feel great to have the woman who raised you call you different. 

“No, I mean…” She rubbed at her temples, as if the words she was about to say gave her a headache. “You’re not like other kids, other people. You’re–you’re not mortal.” 

I stared at her, not understanding. “How is that possible? What do you mean?” 

“Listen, everything I’m about to tell you is about to sound completely insane, and you’re going to think I’m crazy. But it's all true, and you have to believe me.” 

“Okay mom.” 

“I need you to promise you’ll believe me.” She held out her pinky and I considered it for a while. If any other person did this, I would push their hand back at them. But this was my mom , and something inside whispered for me to trust her. 

“Okay, I promise.” I linked my pinky with her, and she relaxed. 

“There’s no easy way to say this, so here I go—you’re a demigod.” 

“A demi-what?” 

“Demigod. It means you’re half-mortal, half-god.” 

“I know what it means, I’ve seen Hercules. I just didn’t know it was real .” 

“All the Greek myths are real. The gods, monsters, heroes. All of it.” I felt like my head was spinning, like my world was crumbling around me but also falling into place somehow. While everything was confusing, everything also was starting to make sense. 

“How do you know this?” I was gripping my mug so hard my fingers hurt, desperately trying to hold onto something solid. 

“That’s a long story,” she glanced nervously at the flames, “and I don’t know how long we have.” 

“Please, I need to know.” My mom sighed and then tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. 

“Someday, dear. Soon. But for now, we must move quickly. Now that you know who you are, more monsters will come—at least that’s what she told me.” She stood up quickly. “You have to pack.” 

“Pack?” My heart began to race. 

“Yes, and quickly. There is only one place you can be safe now, and it's time to show you.” She offered her hand and I took it numbly. “Take only what you need.” My mom pushed me toward the hallway and I walked slowly to my room, feeling like everything was in slow motion. I let my fingers trace along the walls and I wondered absently if I would ever see them again. My entire life was just flipped upside down, and now I had to pack? I wanted to scream and cry. I heard my mom mumbling to the fireplace, as she often did, and for the first time in my life I truly wondered why. 

It didn’t take me long to pack my life into a suitcase and a backpack. I only took the essentials, as my mom said, which ended up being some clothes, shoes, toiletries, a few trinkets, my favorite books (reading could be difficult, so I tended to read the same ones over and over), and my ADHD meds. When I walked back to the main room, my mom looked like she had been crying, and my heart sank. 

“I’m ready.” For what? I didn’t know. She turned to me and smiled the way parents do when they know they won't see you for a while. A lump formed in my throat. 

“Look at you…all grown up.” She walked to me and put her hands on my shoulders. “The place you’re going to is called Camp Half Blood, you’ll be safe there. You can train and be with other kids who are just like you. They’ll explain everything else you need to know when you get there.” Her eyes were glistening and she pulled me into a tight hug. 

“Why are you talking like this is a goodbye? Aren't you coming, too?” 

“I can't, honey.” Her voice caught, “I’m not like you, although I can see more than most mortals. Even so—it’s against the rules. I’m sorry.” 

Now tears started filling my eyes. 

“I won’t go, then.” 

“Angie, you have to. You’re not safe here anymore.” She pulled away and cupped my face. “When I took you in all those years ago, I promised her I would keep you safe. If anything happened to you while you were under my care I’d never forgive myself.” Tears were now falling down her face, and I could feel the same wetness on my cheeks. “Please, do this for me. Be brave–we will see each other again.” Her eyes were glistening but her smile was warm. I could feel the hot tears running down my face as I looked into the eyes of the woman who raised me, the only person who had ever truly been there for me. The only person who loved me. 

And as much as it hurt, I knew I had to go. We had made a pinky promise to be honest, and if she said Camp Half Blood was the only place I’d be safe, then I trusted her. That tingling returned to the small of my back, and I knew that also somehow was telling me to go. 

“Okay.” I said finally, my voice shaky. “How do I get there?” 

My mom let out a sigh as relief flooded through her body. Then she said something no mother has ever told her child. 

“Get in the hearth.” 

I stared at her in shocked silence for a moment before my words came back to me, “I’m sorry?” 

“Trust me, you’ll be safe.” 

“Mom, I don’t think—” 

“Here,” she cut me off and walked to the kitchen, grabbed a loaf of bread, and handed it to me. “Put this in the hearth and then repeat after me.” She looked at me expectantly, and I tossed the bread into the fire. As it blackened, my mom continued, “Oh Hestia, receive my offering.” 

“Hestia?” 

“Just say it!” It was clear I had limited time to do whatever it was I was supposed to do. 

“Fine! Umm, oh Hestia, receive my offering.” 

“Good. Now: I request your aid as Goddess of the Hearth.” 

I repeated her. 

“If it pleases My Lady, let me pass unharmed through fire and be safely delivered to Camp Half Blood.” 

I finished the ritual and for a scary moment, nothing happened. My mom stared at the flames expectantly. And then suddenly, the flames went from yellow and orange to a cool blue, flickering with green and purple. Now, I’d always been told that blue was the hottest fire, but my mom seemed to be satisfied. 

“Okay sweetie, grab your things. It's time.” 

I swallowed hard. 

“How do we know it worked? What if I get burned?” 

“Angie,” my mom took my hand and I wondered how long it would be until she held me again, “you have to have faith. Hestia has been protecting you your whole life, she will not fail you now.” 

“But I don't understand—” 

“You will, all in the Fates timing.” She gave me another tight hug, letting go quicker than I wished. “Now get your things.” 

I did as she said, putting my backpack on and gathering my suitcase. 

“Oh! I almost forgot.” My mom exclaimed as she rushed to our big bookshelf and grabbed the largest and heaviest tome. I recognized it immediately–a book of Greek myths. They had been my bedtime stories growing up, and I knew most of them by heart. While other kids got Cinderella and Charlotte's Web, I got Jason and the Golden Fleece and Princess Andromeda (my favorite, of course). “Take this, it will help you.” I had to hold it with both hands, clutching it to my chest. 

“Thanks, mom.” She nodded and looked to the flames, which were still flickering blue. 

“You’d better go, it's best not to keep the Goddess waiting.” 

I couldn't believe what was happening, but it was as if an external force was guiding me along when my feet could not. I stepped to the large hearth, and, feeling no heat, took a deep breath, thought here goes nothing , and stepped in. 

I closed my eyes and winced instinctively, but after a few scary moments I realized I wasn’t being burned alive. Sure I felt the flames, they were warm, but they didn’t hurt. I laughed in relief, but my mom didn’t look surprised. 

“I’m proud of you, Andromeda. I love you, and you always have a home here—remember that.” 

It was rare my mom called me by the name given to me at birth, and for some reason, hearing her say it now was confirmation that I was doing the right thing. 

“I love you too, mom.” 

And, almost as if on cue, a golden shimmer filled the hearth and obscured my vision. I felt like I was falling, like I was being pulled through time and space at a speed humans were definitely not supposed to travel. In a moment, I was forcefully pushed forward into a bright room, coughing and covered in soot, my hands gripping my suitcase and my book.

[plankton-in-space]

Hello! It me!

Hello friends! It has been a while, I’m still here!

It’s my birthday again, today. This year passed so fast and so slow at the same time. 33 is such a nice symmetrical number, though!

Literally nothing went according to plan, there were many dark moments when I thought that life is simply suffering. I felt alone and overwhelmed and I withdrew from social media and from life bc what was the point?

My family is well and healthy, the crisis has passed and we all survived it. I try to let go of past resentments and look at the now of us, which I never seemed to appreciate before. We are here, we are alive and we are all a work in progress. It is so difficult sometimes to focus on that, when life is fast-paced and I try to think of every possible scenario that might happen in the future.

It has been my constant obsessive thought, the future, to the point of neglecting my present. But I’m learning to fight it on so many levels. Future plankton can take care of herself, current plankton needs to eat well, sleep well and be happy!

How easy it is to say “be happy” but how fleeting it is as a feeling. I felt very very happy this year, more so than any other year I’ve been alive. Even when happiness was sandwiched between the sads, it was there, sparkling!

I walked my dog everyday, in the forest, with his two bodyguards (our two stray cats, Aziraphale & Crowley) meowing behind us. They kept me company when I washed my tools with the hose, waiting patiently to be petted by my cold hands in the end.

The sun in my face, clay on my hands. Painting with watercolours after abstaining for years. Running with Kohta Yamamoto playing on my headphones. Learning to meditate. Books, ceramics, comics, art, alone or with other people.

My bestie was always waiting with coffee, gossip, ideas and laughter and I love her so so much. I really appreciated the company and the sympathetic ears when I needed to cry about the world. My other irl friends were amazing too, I was never alone. My brain tried to convince me I was, but I wasn’t. I was teacher, friend, daughter, sister, helper.

And I accomplished so much! I won’t share what, for a reason. I accomplished a lot and I am proud but my biggest success has been letting go. I’m an overachiever ok? I like working and being good at what I do and my biggest flaw is overworking myself to the point of burnout, to prove to myself that I’m worth the love I receive, the attention. Look at me, I am bright and hardworking and pleasant, love me love me love me. But I receive the love and the care nonetheless, and I want to remember that. I am loved because I am me, and I am who I am because I am very, very loved.

And this is the energy I wanna bring into my 33s, into 2024. I am loved deeply and I love deeply and I care. Numbing myself, trying to avoid the hurts and the sadness only numbs the joy, the quirkiness, the sheer weirdness of existence. If I fail, I will try again, if I cry, I will laugh again.

I hope you are all healthy this year, and happy. I hope you notice the sunrises and the sunsets, the flowers and the birds and the seasons.

I don’t know if I will be more online this year or not. Being online takes time I would rather give to me, well, being present in my life. I haven’t decided yet which socials to keep, how often to post, how to reduce doom scrolling without going offline. It’s a work in progress.

But now, in this moment in time, I will post my mermay drawings bc I managed to finish the challenge just yesterday! wahoo!

[ikkaku-of-heart]

piratebento​:

Penguin wasn’t the kind of guy that was good at subtlety or hiding his emotions- rather wore them on his sleeve, actually. He wasn’t remotely surprised by the look the other pirate gave him from his approach. He pulled up a chair, sat down and listened while she worked on the weapon, holding his hands out wordlessly to offer to use him for assistance as she saw fit. It was the least he could do.

A culmination of events lead the older pirate to realize he had was making an ass of himself. Being around women more frequently had done something to his primitive male brain and somewhere along the way he had been branded a fool- by that card freak, no less. It pissed him off that some guy thought he knew Ikkaku better than him and he had no one to blame but himself. Penguin should have been the one of the people she went running to when she needed someone, but he instead he had driven into the arms of a mad man- okay, he was being a little over-dramatic, but damn he hated that guy for a large number of reasons. There was more to it, but he needed to tell her that and not dwell on it any longer.

“I’m sorry for what I said before- I didn’t really mean it, you know, about you being a girl and all.” He took a deep breath and kept talking before she could say anything or stop him. “I know you’re a woman, it’s just easy to think of you as one of the guys, but I hear what people say about you, and it pisses me off- not just because I don’t think of you that way, but ‘cause I wanna be able to protect you even though I know you don’t need me to protect you, you know?” He motioned towards the shock baton that could clearly do a lot of damage when she wanted it to. “You can test it on me if you want when you’re done. I’d deserve it.”

@piratebento

Penguin's explanation had Ikkaku's mouth twisting into a disdainful grimace. Partially at him, but mostly at herself, because this was a conversation they probably should have had ages ago. Maybe if they had, he would have matured a bit quicker and she wouldn't have held so much frustration towards him. Frustration she'd ended up revealing to Hawkins, because despite him being a bastard, he'd been a sympathetic ear when she'd needed one. She really should have known better.

Regardless, she definitely had no intention of shocking Penguin with her baton. That would be childish and petty. It was time to start communicating like adults.

"I don't mind being seen as one of the guys sometimes, Penguin," she sighed, setting down her tools so she could pinch her temples. "But when I joined this crew, I'd initially felt I had to abandon my femininity to be given any kind of respect. Felt like I had to wear baggy clothes and make crude jokes and not take care of my hair because I needed to be seen as 'one of the guys.' And it fucking sucked, Penguin. Made me feel even more self-conscious and like I'd be kicked out for not belonging if I slipped up. I was so fucking grateful when Law knocked some sense into me and made me realize I can be both a woman and an engineer."

Creator Turtle, Ikkaku had been so damn happy when Law had finally gotten through to her - in his usual snarky, asshole way, of course - that she deserved to be happy with who she was and not try to be what she thought they wanted her to be. That she was allowed to wear pretty clothes while off-duty, and pamper herself, and just be unapologetically girly as well as be the best damn engineer any of them had ever seen.

Penguin's constant declarations that she "wasn't a girl" stung not because she wanted him to treat her like he treated other girls, but because she'd spent her childhood just wanting to be seen as a person, as a teen to be seen for her skills, and now as an adult she wanted to be seen for everything she was - engineer, pirate, and woman combined.

"I don't mind you protecting me when shit gets bad," she continued, ignoring his outstretched hands. She'd find work for him to do later, but not now. She wanted his full focus to be on her words. "It's what nakama does, and I'd do the same with you. I don't even mind you stepping in when a dumbass in a tavern is being gross. But you need to also trust that I know what I'm doing."

Spinning her chair to face him fully, Ikkaku looked him dead in the eye. "Which brings us to Hawkins. I heard about you and him having a little...talk. And I gotta tell ya, while I appreciate you looking out for me, Penguin, that was colossally stupid for reasons you don't even know."

[idiacide]

First of all bless for making a gender neutral blog! also, i’m not sure if this is too far into oc territory for you, but if it’s fine, maybe some romantic headcanons for the staff with an mc in their like mid 20s or smth (or an adult at least), so instead of being a student they get assigned to them as like a ta or smth? sorry if this is too convoluted 😅

As a genderqueer person it was always kind of frustrating to me to swim through a pretty constant sea of fem!reader, especially when it was headcanons that didn’t particularly need to be gendered. Glad to see other people are responding to it! I’m gonna leave the age vague for basic comfort level (since Trein is 58) but this should fit the basic gist of it. Also I’m sticking with the academic staff for this because I don’t feel I have enough of a grasp on Sam just yet to comfortable write him. Some light nsfw ahead.

Dire Crowley: -You’re his secretary/personal assistant/gofer/sometimes, you swear, therapy dog that he carries around in a little purse

-Crowley keeps you busy constantly with constant campus antics (and, let’s be real, his own unwillingness to fix problems that he often causes). Still, there are decided perks. He never fails to express his gratitude, and he is very vocal about his respect for your own abilities. Pay is nothing to sneeze at either, and free room and board are just the cherry on top

-Despite his tendency to overhype his own benevolence Crowley really is a very generous man, in his way. He’s ready to lend a sympathetic ear when he can, and while he may not always be super helpful he’s always ready to be asked when his services can be of use.

-Getting romantically involved with Dire means getting to see a little more of his serious side. He’s so much of a character around everyone else that you kind of doubt anyone would believe you about what he’s like when you’re alone together. He can be genuinely a very tender and soothing partner, with the faintest bit of edge that keeps things fresh.

-And that edge does come through. He’ll say things occasionally with the strangest hint of prophecy, jokes that aren’t really jokes. There’s the faintest hints of a possessive streak as well. Not so much expressed in terms of jealousy, just....there’s something peculiarly inescapable about him. Like this is a man who would move heaven and earth just to make sure you were where he could see you

-.....Its probably fine : )

-Surprisingly, he’s a bit of a stickler for work/life boundaries. On the clock you’re back to your roles of boss and assistant with very little exchange of affection beyond basic friendliness. There are always fresh flowers on your desk, though, and he’s much less presumptuous of your time than he was initially.

-He gets very weepy if you make the two of you lunches to share. Very dramatic. Don’t mind him he’s a sucker for domesticity.

Divus Crewel: -You’re his teaching assistant, a position that includes inventory on the many ingredients he uses in the potions classroom, grading on exams and take home assignments, helping him with live demonstrations, and giving a few dedicated lessons of your own. As well as taking in his dry cleaning (this line of work is very hard on his clothes even with as careful as he is).

-It should surprise exactly no one that Divus is a very exacting boss. You do the job until its done right, and if you don’t do it right then you do it again and again until you’ve perfected it. 

-Still, he’s also very fair. He makes appropriate note of effort and he doesn’t hold you to any standards he doesn’t also hold himself to. Screwups are punished, but successes are rewarded. He wouldn’t have taken you on for this position if he wasn’t well assured of your competence. He just wants you to demonstrate that potential fully.

-As a partner he fulfills nearly every expectation, albeit with not a lot of warmth. Divus isn’t particularly effusive emotionally. “Warm regard” really is a fitting turn of phrase for how he views you. That doesn’t mean you’re treated coldly, though. Far from it, off the clock he is almost shockingly prone to spoiling you with gifts and dinners and the like.

-He’s a bit controlling as a partner, not aggressively so but he has a tendency to take charge out of habit. He manages your clothes, your schedule, and your meals. If you tell him to step off, he will, he just has a very “I know best’ mentality and likes to take care of things he regards as precious.

-Absolutely no less of a hardass with you during work but there’s a certain playfulness about it, almost like he’s challenging you. He doesn’t mind if you give him a little shit for it back at home, almost encourages it.

-That riding crop is NOT just for show. Enjoy.

-He’s neither advertising nor hiding your relationship from his students, but any smart remarks about it are going to be immediately met with the full force of his cold sarcasm.

-Actually gets kind of a thrill out of workplace affection. Nothing too explicit, he’s not that unprofessional, but you may find him pulling you aside for a quick kiss in the supply closet or letting his hand glide along your waist in passing. Divus takes his job and his reputation very seriously, but he’s never once let it hold him back from enjoying himself.

Mozus Trein: -Being Trein’s teaching assistant is a little bit less varied in terms of tasks but is no less demanding. He assigns a LOT more homework than Crewel, and also expects you to help him keep up with research in order to keep his curriculum as updated as possible.

-He has very strong expectations of your work ethic and is very strict about deadlines. However, unlike Divus’ expectation that you reproduce his own work effortlessly, Trein actually expects a certain amount of back and forth. You’re meant to be reading these materials, not just copying them, and that includes himself.

-The two of you often enjoys some very intense discussion over a cup of tea, Lucius curled in your lap and purring like mad. Mozus’ eyes glitter a little more with each remark, and he looks so relaxed. A far cry from the stern pedagogue you see in the classroom.

-At his age Mozus has sort of lost the desire for any kind of grand romance. High drama and emotions will be all well and good for poetry, but ultimately he’s just looking for someone to take care of, and who can take care of him right back.

-His daughters are old enough to make up their own minds about you, and while he certainly wouldn’t stick around long with anyone who just despised his kids you’re not expected to take on more parental responsibility towards them than you’re comfortable doing. That said, he does get the slightest bit emotional when he sees you being affectionate with them. He’s a proud and loving father, despite his stern reputation, and it warms his heart to see you be a part of their lives like this.

-Being a good catparent to Lucius is NON-OPTIONAL though. You will adore that cat like he deserves or you will simply not be seeing Mozus.

-Mozus is a very attentive partner. He’s very tuned into your needs and fusses constantly over you taking care of yourself. 

-He has a very strict sense of decorum. Chances are very good that once you started dating seriously he summarily dismissed you from the teaching assistant role and sought other help. He still appreciates your help with research, though, and enjoys hearing your feedback.

-His favorite evenings in the world are spent on the sofa, tea in your hands, talking quietly with the cat settled in between you. Perhaps its not exciting or glamorous, but it feels like home to him, and it softens him in ways no one could’ve ever expected.

Ashton Vargas:-You’re his assistant coach, which is pretty much as straightforward as it sounds. You help supervise his classes as well as the sports extracurriculars, as well as help with equipment maintenance.

-As far as bosses go, he’s alright. If you show up and do the job there’s not too much trouble.

-As a person though? Hoo boy.

-Someone had to hold the rivals to lovers stick

-Your relationship with Vargas likely started from an unsurprisingly physical place. Unfortunately for everyone the man is EXACTLY as hot as he thinks he is. He’s also a talented athlete which means that the competitive environment at work gets out of hand.

-Your students have a private betting pool on the two of you. Azul is running a small gambling ring on who starts it, who wins, and who’s the most pissed off by the end of the week.

-As well as how long till you hook up.

-As it turns out only a couple of months. In the locker room after all the students have gone home. The prick makes you clean up the room yourself too.

-Despite the tempestuous start....once you can actually get him to take the relationship seriously there are some unexpected perks to seeing Vargas.

-For as egotistical and demanding as he can often be. he’s just as much in your corner as he is in his own. He will loudly hype you up for anyone listening (and a few people who would rather not).

-He’s VERY needy affection wise, including on the job. Crowley has you in his office so many times for workplace conduct talks.

-Clingy in every sense of the word. Wants you to move in very quickly and is constantly blowing up your phone. Its kind of cute from a guy that burly and brash.

-He gets very excited over things, its one of his more endearing qualities.

[toxicshumai]

Obey Me Baby HC’s pt 2!: Dateables

@bibliosophist inspired me to do the dateables version of this post so here are my vaguely-baby-related thoughts

Diavolo:

-MC, we need to talk about producing an heir…

-This has nothing to do with his daddy issues and desire to be a better and more involved father than his own. It’s about uniting the Three Realms! The puppy eyes he’s giving you are just a coincidence!

-he has the Too Much Gene but we love him for it. He starts buying baby stuff before you even get pregnant.

-He’s super impatient for you to get pregnant once you start trying, so he’s going to be on you constantly. Thankfully, he’s got those breeder balls to produce an heir.

-he’s a little too good at breeding, and you end up with twins

-Will tell everyone the moment you get a positive test. Barbatos has to physically restrain him from literally shouting it from the rooftops.

-Most Likely to Develop Sympathetic Pregnancy

-he would carry, birth, and nurse the child himself if he could. He already has the titties.

-how are they so small… MC, look they are like people but tiny… he can fit each one in the palm of his hand

-Despite having little to no prior experience with babies, he’s a natural. 

-he’s so big that he can hold both twins side by side in one of those baby carrier things strapped to his chest. 

-He wakes the babies up accidentally a lot but he’s very apologetic!

-Secretly goes to Barb for advice and to make sure he’s not messing up.

-Enjoy your endlessly hyper demon spawn

-will want to have more if you’re down

Solomon:

-he’s from a time when women dying in childbirth was common and he will be an anxious wreck (internally) until the baby is born. If he seems extra scatterbrained, it’s just to mask the constant anxiety. 

-he’s going to lock himself away in research mode for a whole sleepless week finding spells and charms to ease your pregnancy and ensure the health of you and the baby

-usually, he’s content for the two of you to do your own thing but now he’s constantly by your side pretending not to hover

-he’ll want to keep the good news just between the two of you at first because he’s worried about jinxing it

-you’ll have to stop him from coming up with some whack baby names

-sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night with his hand pressed to your stomach and he’s just staring at you. It would be creepy if his expression wasn’t so soft, bordering on worshipful

-used to forgoing sleep so he’s always the first one to get up when he hears the baby crying

Simeon:

-he’s going to bring up the possibility of  trying for a child in the most flowery, roundabout way. 

-the kind of parent who tries to get the older child (Luke) involved in the pregnancy to make the transition easier for them

-baby clothes. They are so tiny and he is holding them and crying in the store.

-talks to the fetus constantly. It’s both endearing and annoying when you’re trying to sleep.

-another one who wants to tell everyone right away.

-shotgun wedding!

-will organize your baby shower

-You’re going to have to assemble the crib because there is no way this airhead (affectionate) is going to be able to put anything together. HOWEVER, he would paint beautiful murals of the Celestial Realm on the nursery walls.

-His idea of normal names is a little skewed so you’ll probably end up with something flowery that can be shortened to a cute nickname.

-He will want to be there for the birth if you allow it. Miracle of life and all that. 

-he’s somehow still bright eyed and bushytailed even after waking up every two hours and it kind of makes you want to smother his handsome face with a pillow. You can’t though, because he’s a champ at soothing the baby. Being a literal angel is an unfair advantage.

-no real gender preference but thinks it would be cute for Luke to have a little sister

Barbatos:

-okay so I think Barb never really intended to have kids since he’s basically married to his job and also already raising Dia and has shared custody of Luke

-but whoopsie, human birth control doesn’t work on demon sperm :/

-since he hasn’t been allowed to use his powers since resetting the timeline to save your life, he did NOT see this coming. Yes, he sees the irony, please stop laughing.

-he just needs a moment okay

-once he gets used to the idea, he is over the moon in love with you and your unborn child. He’s a lot more affectionate than usual and coincidentally has a lot more free time.

-very attentive to your needs throughout your pregnancy. He’ll massage your aching back, bring you anti-nausea tea, cook anything you’re craving, etc.

-very tempted to peek ahead to find out the baby’s gender 

-has an entire nursery set up seemingly overnight, though he’s constantly fussing and adjusting things so it’s just right. Of course, it’s soundproofed so as not to disturb the young master. Diavolo kept sneaking toys in to the point where he had to set up a separate playroom.

-he’s going to make all the baby food himself to make sure it’s healthy, organic, and yummy. He spends a lot of time refining his recipes and Beel gets to eat the rejects.

-this kid doesn’t have a first word; they have a first sentence and it’s a little unsettling.

-one and done. He’s getting a vasectomy after this.

Bonus Luke!:

-he’s so pumped to be a big brother

-has already appointed himself the future baby’s protector and guardian angel

-he wants you to move into Purgatory Hall so the baby isn’t exposed to demonic influences

-I don’t think Luke is very familiar with babies so he’s going to be fascinated by everything the little one does

-He’s surprised that the baby can hear him in the womb and shyly asks to talk to them

-he can’t wait to bake for the baby! What do you mean, they can’t have solid food yet? D:

[taechaos]

Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it. 

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least. 

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself. 

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin. 

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion. 

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily. 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing. 

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs. 

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees. 

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening. 

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane. 

“Are these real stories?” 

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle. 

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare. 

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life. 

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention. 

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth. 

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?” 

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him. 

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of? 

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out. 

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity. 

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra. 

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life?  Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice… 

[slasherhaven]

Bo Sinclair X Reader

Part 1, Part 2

I've been enjoying some Soft!Bo recently, so here's some more!

Soulmate AU: shared pain and shared scars part 3:

Time passed since you first stepped into Ambrose, only a few weeks since you ended up meeting your soulmate in the most unlikely place and getting stranded in the small town. You told yourself you were stranded, tried to convince yourself of that, but it wasn't completely true. Now you thought that even if you got the chance to escape, you wouldn't. You wouldn't leave and if you did...you would probably end up being drawn right back to Ambrose.

Weeks passed. You mourned. You still found yourself saddened by Carly's death, but you had come to terms with everything that had happened. Bo had, in an act of kindness you supposed, demanded that Vincent didn't use any member of your group to create new wax figures. You were supposed to be at home in this town, you didn't need a constant morbid reminder of your past.

Of a night, you had been staying in Bo's room while he slept on the couch. Surprisingly, he had insisted on it. Despite you being his soulmate and practically being destined forgive him, he supposed he should try to make it easier for you. He just hoped it wouldn't take too much longer, the couch wasn't as comfortable as his bed.

The events from your arrival had settled and the town seemed to fall into it's more day to day routine. You had gotten to know Vincent and Lester a little better, but you found yourself more comfortable around Bo, which made sense even if it wasn't logical to an outsider.

Despite spending more time around Bo than the other brothers, you surprisingly didn't talk much. Neither of you really knowing what to say. You wanted to be around him instinctively but didn't know what to say to the man who killed your friends, or even if you wanted to say anything at all.

Today went by as usual, you spending the day down in the garage with Bo, eating lunch and dinner with him, and awkwardly sitting on the couch in front of the brother's little television. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, occasionally risking glances at him.

You had excused yourself and gone up to bed, changing into one of Bo's tee-shirts. You didn't exactly have a wide selection of clothes just yet but did you have other options of sleepwear? Yes, you did. Still, you chose to wear Bo's tee-shirt. You found it comforting.

Unsurprisingly, you hadn't been sleeping well. It took a few nights for you to get a good few hours of sleep but you were sure that your sleeping had actually become more disturbed than it had been. The bed was comfortable, and smelled of Bo, but you still found yourself tossing and turning, feeling like something was missing.

It was something you had been debating for the last few nights but always talked yourself out of it. Tonight though...you had decided to take the risk. You knew you would end up doing it eventually anyway.

Pushing back the sheets, you climbed off of the bed and exited the bedroom.

When you had arrived, the house had been untidy but you had fixed that during your stay. You had to fill your time with something and it helped make you feel more comfortable. So, now, you didn't feel too worried about walking around barefoot.

You made your way down the stairs and quietly into the living room. Bo mustn't have heard you since he was still sitting with his feet up on the coffee table, eyes on the television, with his temporary bedding piled beside him.

"Bo?" you asked quietly and he instantly turned to you. Under different circumstances, you might have found it amusing that you had surprised him.

His gaze scanned your body, wetting his lips at the sight of you in one of his tee-shirts. "You alright, darlin'?" he had never been shy about pet-names, always calling you by them. You didn't mind. You liked it.

"Can't sleep" you mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Wanna sit with me?" he asked and you nodded without having to think about it.

He gave you his signature charming smirk. "C'mon then" he patted the space beside him and you walked over to him.

Bo lifted his arm, laying it over the back of the couch as you sat down beside him, his arm behind you. Some old film was on the television, you had no idea what, but you didn't mind. Bo didn't seem very interested in it either.

"You got any idea what's going on in this?" Bo asked, gesturing towards the television, you just shook your head. "Need better fucking stations" he muttered to himself, making you smile a little in amusement.

"Or you could upgrade from VHS...maybe get a DVD player" you mused. "Do they even sell VHS's anymore?" you asked with a small chuckle, earning a smile from Bo.

"Guess we'll have to save up for your fancy technology" Bo teased, proud of himself when you laughed.

"I think I can deal with it" you shrugged before, not so subtly despite your best efforts, shifting closer to him.

"Good" Bo hummed, his arm lowering from the back of the couch to wrap around your shoulders and pull you closer. You allowed him, resting your head against his shoulder.

The two of you fell silent as you watched the screen, not really taking anything in. Risking your glances at Bo once again, the hand that lay lazily in his lap caught your attention. He was wearing a tee-shirt, ready for bed, leaving his wrist visible.

Gently, you reached out and took his hand in yours, your other hand tracing his scars. "Will you tell me about them now?" you asked quietly, watching your fingertips trace his scars.

"Ain't much of a story" Bo shrugged, watching your expression of concentration.

"I'd still like to hear it. Been wondering since my childhood" you confessed.

"Me and Vincent were very different kids. He was well-behaved and quiet, me...not so much. I got angry, I'd shout, throw tantrums, parents had to restrain me at the dinner table sometimes. I'd try to get out, fucking up my wrists" Bo explained, finding the repetitive touches to his scarring strangely relaxing. It wasn't something he usually liked to have on show, but he knew he could be vulnerable with you.

"That's horrible...I'm sorry" you frowned, meeting his gaze with nothing but sympathy in your eyes.

"Eh, had to do what they had to do" he shrugged dismissively. Surely, he should be apologising to you if anything.

"You did what any kid with behavioural problems does, they should have handled it much differently" you shook your head, brow furrowing in frustration. Who would treat their child like that?

“Ain’t a big deal” he shrugged again. You could already tell that he didn't like talking about this sort of thing and you found yourself hoping he would begin to grow more comfortable with opening up to you.

“Come on, Bo…if you can’t talk to me, who can you talk too?” you asked with a small but sincere smile. You were his soulmate after all. “I know it hurt, I felt it, remember? At least when the pain started for me, I had someone there to calm me and help me. I can’t imagine how distressing it would have been…” your smile quickly faded, expression turning to sympathetic as you squeezed his hand gently.

There was a short silence, Bo not looking at you, and you decided that if he didn't talk, you wouldn't push it further. “It hurt” Bo finally spoke, clearing his throat. “Each time the restraints would get tighter, ‘least that’s how it felt. The more I struggled the more it hurt, but the more it hurt the more I struggled. Just wanted to get out of the damn chair” he told you shortly, sighing as your thumb brushed over the inside of his wrist. And then he looked at you properly, “for what it's worth, I’m sorry you had to feel that too…and everything else.”

“You don’t need to apologise. I was never angry with you for the pain, just angry with those hurting you” you confessed.

Bo smirked a little at the anger in your expression. The hand that you held onto moved, gently grasping one of your wrists as he brushed his thumb over the matching scarring. "Hey, don't you start worrying about me, alright?"

"I'm not allowed to care?" you asked, suddenly hit with the realisation that you did care. You cared a whole lot about this man.

"...you want to care? You go ahead and care, darlin'" he nodded, giving his permission, making you smile.

"Good...because I will, even if you don't want me too" you told him, knowing that now. Accepting that.

"Beginning to think you're warming up to me" Bo hummed, the hand on your shoulder stroking up and down your arm.

"Don't ruin it" you rolled your eyes but still moved closer to him, naturally draping an arm around his waist and laying your head against his chest. "I wanted to ask you something" you spoke quietly after a short pause in conversation.

"Shoot" Bo looked down at you, his hold around you tightening ever so slightly.

"Was wondering if you...wanted to sleep in the bed, maybe, with me tonight?" you glanced down at your lap. You shouldn't have been embarrassed, he was your soulmate, but circumstances were more than unusual. "Don't like sleeping alone...it never used to bother me" you confessed.

"Can't complain about getting back in my own bed" Bo mused before hooking a finger under your chin, lifting your head and making you look at him. "All you had to do was ask, darlin'" he assured you.

The way he looked at you, the intensity of his gaze, made heat rise to your face, but it still earned a smile from you. "Just sleeping, though" you added, not wanting him to get any ideas.

"Just sleeping. I swear" Bo chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating in his chest. It was a nice sound.

"Thank you" you whispered, breath catching in your throat when you realised how close your faces were now.

Bo noticed how you gaze flickered down to his lips before meeting his eyes again, cheeks darkening with a flush. He hadn't been subtle despite putting effort into making you comfortable, you had often caught him staring and he'd only smirk when you caught him looking at you.

Bo didn't seem like the type of guy to sit back until somebody else made a move, he seemed like an initiator type, but you knew that he wasn't going to play into that role right now. You had just talked to him properly, invited him back into his bed. He could be impulsive but he wasn't stupid, he wouldn't risk scaring you away right now.

You had no idea where you got the confidence from, or maybe it was just the innate gravitational pull you felt towards him, but you started leaning in. Eyes fluttered shut as your lips brushed against his.

That seemed to be enough to reassure Bo that you wouldn't run away as he fully closed the space, pressing his lips further against yours in a proper kiss. One that you instantly returned.

You couldn't help yourself, arms looping around his neck as you lent into his chest. Strong arms circling your waist and pulling you closer, practically onto his lap. His kiss, his touch, his mere presence, lit a fire in you. The like of which you had never experienced before. In that moment it truly felt like you were the only two people who existed. Two people colliding in an unlikely little town.

And, in that moment, you knew. Monster or not, soulmate or not, you were supposed to be right here with Bo. It didn't matter if the universe had a sick idea of fate, the past didn't matter, only now mattered. Only him and only you. Finally, you accepted the truth you had been resisting for so many days.

He was yours and, more importantly, you were his.

[goddamnitlopori]

Wolf (2021), disaster or masterpiece?

Short answer: neither. 

I recently saw Wolf, an indie film about people with species dysphoria undergoing conversion therapy at the hands of a sadistic doctor. Though not without its flaws, it was enjoyable, especially when watched with friends. I wanted to write a review from the perspective of someone who on the whole, liked it. (film spoilers ahead!)

I’ll try to summarise as best I can, what the film got right and where it failed (imo). Plus neutral observations. 

The positives: The acting, the actors really carried the story, ran with it. The protagonists are all likeable, they had the vibe of their animals which is a fun touch. Rufus, the German Shepard, has a doglike energy and gregariousness. Jacob, the wolf, is more serious and brooding like stereotypical wolf people lol. Judith, the parrot, likes to copy people, somewhat reminiscent of autistic echolalia. Whether that was on purpose I don’t know. I think it’s likely an accident, as Judith mimics more deliberately. When the residents moved around like their particular animal when “shifted” so to speak, they did a very convincing job. They were trained by Terry Notary, who is a movement coach for mocap actors etc, he knows his shit. You can tell when Terry has worked on a project.

This might surprise some, but I genuinely find it a sympathetic portrayal. Though very exaggerated and goofy at times, when characters sat down and spoke of their experiences it was accurate. There’s a scene where Annalisa (panda) reads Jacob’s poetry about his dysphoria, it could’ve been ripped straight from a therian forum thread. Annalisa herself also talks a lot like us. There were some really poignant lines for me personally, too. The film makes it abundantly clear that none of these people should be locked up. Everyone is varying levels of animal-person, ranging from a kid who really likes ducks to people with a more extreme, behaviourally outward condition. All of them mistreated the same way, and none of it justified. They want us to root for these characters, they want us to want their freedom to be themselves. There is no mistaking what the message is.  And that leads me to the negatives, it is almost too obvious who the good/bad guys are. The antagonist, Dr. Mann, is a pantomime villain in his mannerisms. It kills suspension of disbelief. While I'm sure there are sadistic quacks in medicine irl, he lacks personality and complexity. There was one scene that hinted at Dr. Mann maybe being a closeted animal-person himself, but that was never further explored. This is a common flaw in the film, the pacing is all over the place, scenes escalate instantly, ramping up the drama or horror in a second. A character or plot point gets introduced only to never be mentioned again. I reckon there might have been a lot of footage that never made it to the final cut. The plot could really use some fleshing out, an extra 15 minutes on the run time would have done it wonders. Though their intentions are clearly good, I think the film leans too heavily on trauma being the single explanation for species dysphoria. In reality it’s multi-faceted. I’m not mad though. 

Other observations: It so kinky!? The dynamics between Dr. Mann and his patients, the props, the costumes, may as well be BDSM. Hard to tell if it’s intentional or just being artsy? Interestingly, rather than the doctors reminding patients that they are human, they defaulted to “boy” or “girl”. Leaving the facility a boy or girl is the end goal. Which could be interpreted as an allegory for repressing transgenderism. The film wasn’t really meant to be analogous to gender etc, but there are bound to be many comparisons with real life phenomena, hard to avoid. Institutionalisation is touched upon too, through Wildcat’s character. The “therapy” the patients undergo involves constant mixed messages, and it’s a bit heartbreaking. I especially feel for Jeremy (squirrel), poor lad never catches a break. As rewards for good behaviour they get to dress up as their animal, but once they act out, they’re severely punished. I think to shame them for wanting the animalistic rewards? A lot of it was of course, cartoonishly over the top. But the underlying ideas are near identical to actual antikin insults, “if you’re an animal, then why don’t you act like one? Oh you can’t, ahahaha checkmate”. Crap argument, a human body/brain and human socialisation are not insignificant factors, it’s a subjective identity. Couldn’t run a successful medical establishment built on such half assed rhetoric. Good thing it is so unrealistic, eh? In summary, I would give this film 3/5 stars. Not bad, not great, but entertaining. And at times rather touching. I just wish the film was better paced and didn’t spoon feed the message too much. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Frigid.

Pairing: Yandere!Rosaria/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.5k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Modern AU, Non-Con, Semi-Public Sex, Drug Use, Toxic Relationships, Victim-Blaming, Implied Past Assult, Dissociation.

Touching Rosaria was like touching ice.

Or, like having ice touch you, at least. She didn’t like it when you touched her – if she did, she wouldn’t have her hand clamped around your wrist, right now, there wouldn’t be a chill washing over your skin, inching towards your chest, making your heart beat a little faster every time the threat of frostbite began to seem more like a strong possibility than a distant fantasy. It was jarring, really, compared to the heat of the bodies around you, dancing and moving and sweltering, despite how crowded the club felt, despite how much you wished they would stop. You’d been the one who wanted to come, you were the one who usually liked this kind of thing, but suddenly, the music was too loud, everyone was too close, you could still feel your last drink burning at the back of your throat. It was all too much. It was all too hot.

Except Rosaria, of course. Never Rosaria.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt warm, around her.

She was sticking close to the walls, thankfully. You were glad you’d chosen a smaller club, easier for Rosaria to navigate as she dragged you across the cramped space. It was too dark to see where she was going, darker than it usually was, but you didn’t mind letting her pull you along. You were used to it, the graceless way she pushed through couples and groups and inebriated patrons, the quiet apologies you let out as you followed her, how easy your own feet were to trip over as the bright, flashing lights and the sour flavor coating your tongue made it more and more difficult to think. It was almost a relief when she found what she was looking for – the side exit, the one you liked to use whenever you got too overwhelmed. It was sweet that she’d thought to use it tonight, too, even if you couldn’t remember telling her about your little escape route.

The alleyway it opened into was narrow, just as dark and just as stifling as the club, but the music wasn’t as loud, the air wasn’t as choking, and more importantly, you were able to collapse into Rosaria, burying your head in your chest as she caught you by the shoulders, begrudgingly accepting your clumsy affection. She didn’t like being touched, but you really liked touching her. It made sense that she’d make an exception for you, in the moment, at least. She always made an exception for you.

“Rosey,” You started, slurring the nickname into something near-incomprehensible. There was a tap to your shoulder, a row of blunt nails skirting across bare skin. In the back of your mind, you wondered if she was mad at you. “I can’t… It’s too warm, Rosey. My head hurts.”

“Obviously.” Her tone was lighter than it usually was, more playful. Not quite patient, not yet, but more sympathetic than she usually bothered to be. Like she was talking to a child, rather than a friend. Like the two of you hadn’t already done this a hundred times. “You overdid it, princess. You’re drunk.”

You shook your head, absent-mindedly. You didn’t feel drunk. You felt… dizzy. Out of it. Disoriented in such a way that meant trying to find out why you were struggling to keep your balance only made you more likely to fall. “You had more than I did,” You mumbled, because it was true. You knew how Rosaria could be. You’d wanted to be good, tonight, even if she claimed to be content nursing her third glass of wine. “’s not fair. I’m don’t even feel that—”

“You’re always so careless, too,” She said, cutting you off. Speaking over you, like you’d never said anything at all. Her grip tightened, and you backed away, pressing yourself against the nearest wall. Rosaria didn’t let go. “Drinking so much, staying out so late… It’s a miracle you haven’t learned your lesson, yet. I’m a little surprised no one’s ever taken advantage of you.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. The wall was unpainted, uneven, bare cement and little else. It hurt to touch, to lean against, especially with Rosaria resting her weight on you. It hurt to move, when you finally thought to fidget. “You're being mean,” You whispered, and her hand fell to your hip. Your dress was too thin, too tight. It felt like you were bleeding out in a snowbank. “Would someone really do that?”

“I would.” She was too close. She was too cold. You didn’t find the constant chill comforting, anymore. “In a heartbeat. Especially after you start acting like such a fucking tease.”

You wanted to go home. There was something pounding in the back of your skull, now, throbbing, blocking out whatever Rosaria might’ve said, making it impossible to process anything but the black dots fraying at the edges of your vision and Rosaria’s lips, chapped and painted red and on your neck, the corner of your jaw, only lingering for a moment before her teeth dug into your jugular and you screamed, the shrill sound immediately cut short by a palm against your mouth, keeping you quiet despite the little whimpers you let out as she pulled back, allowing something warm to run over your skin and pool near your collarbone. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it would get on your dress, if it would leave a stain. You wondered if she would apologize, when it did.

“Spoiled little brat,” She growled, nearly under her breath. Her grip loosened, Rosaria shifting, but any reprieve was short-lived, quickly replaced by two fingers pressed into your tongue and a row of nails clawing at your waist, pulling at your skirt, leaving you to gag and whimper as ice-cold fingertips dug into your thigh, cold enough to leave you trembling. She wasn’t holding you, not really, not tightly enough to call it restraint, but your body felt weak, your legs were shaking, and you couldn’t imagine trying to run. You couldn’t imagine trying to stand. You were almost thankful for the knee she forced between your thighs, for the trace of stability she thought to offer. You wanted to be thankful. You were trying to be thankful. “No talking, alright? I need you to keep quiet. Can you do that for me?”

Right. Obviously. Rosaria was so smart. She always knew what to do, so she must’ve been right, and she was so kind, too, letting her fingers slip out of your mouth as soon as you offered her the small, eager nod she was looking for. You were glad she was wearing leather, a jacket a size too big and pants that clung to her like a second skin – it gave you something tangible to hold onto, something to hide your face in, even if you hated the texture, the sound, the way it felt under you as she cupped your pussy and some thin piece of fabric tore, forcing you to shy into her just a little more. You almost asked why. If she didn't like your dress, she could’ve just told you. If she didn’t like you, she could’ve said so in a way that didn’t make you feel so…

So bad.

“You said you were hot.” Rosaria was talking before you could, though, explaining herself. Why was she allowed to talk? Part of you wavered, flickered, realized that she wasn’t being fair, that she wasn’t being nice, but Rosaria was good at this kind of thing. She must’ve known something you didn’t. That’d make sense. She knew a lot of stuff, compared to the handful of foggy ideas that separated your mind from total oblivion. “I’m just helping you out. You’re not stupid enough to turn down help, are you?”

You shook your head. You weren’t, even if she chuckled at your meek response, even if you couldn’t see how grinding her hand into your cunt could help you feel anything but hot, like you’d been in the sun for an hour too long. Like you were being burnt alive, and Rosaria was the one stoking the flames.

Your thoughts were spinning, now, twisting, spiraling, the need to shut your eyes and make it stop almost overshadowing the slick building up between your legs, that awful, sticky feeling that made you squirm, holding Rosaria tighter and attempting to weakly push her away at the same time. The embarrassment was palpable, that nagging sense of shame, only made worse by Rosaria’s huff of a laugh, by the lingering sensation of her teeth ghosting over your skin and the way you jolted into her, anything intelligent you might’ve said replaced by a small, submissive whimper. It was embarrassing. You wanted it to stop. You wanted her to stop.

But, she didn’t. She wouldn't. You couldn't force her to.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask.

It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like much of anything, honestly, as her fingers slipped below the black lace of your panties, as she toyed with your clit and drank in those pathetic sounds you might’ve thought someone else was making, if your own voice hadn’t been so recognizable. Your body was too numb, your nerves already too burnt, Rosaria’s chest too cold where it pressed against yours, like your life depended on little more than ice and sleet. It didn’t feel good, but your face must’ve been flushed, your pupils blown out, your scrunched expression littered with hints that you were in anything but agony. Rosaria sounded smug. She wouldn’t sound like that, not unless you gave her a reason to. She wouldn’t do that to you, not unless she thought you deserved it.

“For fuck’s sake,” She drawled, slowly, like she didn’t have anywhere better to be. She didn’t have anywhere better to be. She wouldn’t have bothered to spend time with you, otherwise. “You’re already so damn wet. If I’d known you’d be this needy, I wouldn't have bothered with the fucking pills.”

You opened your mouth, but you were barely able to get out a strangled cry before something was inside of you, your panties pushed to the side and two long fingers scissoring you open, too quickly, too suddenly, too violently. It was like she’d broken a dam, like some necessary barrier had been crossed and crushed, like everything you’d lacked, earlier, everything your mind had been merciful enough to block out came flooding in for the first time. There was the sting, tight and tearing and impatient, but there was pleasure, too, something beyond awareness, something beyond discomfort. It was a fire, smoldering and invasive, and you didn’t like it. You didn’t like the way your hips bucked to meet her hand, or the new weight behind your eyes, or her smirk, her smile, her self-satisfied sneer. You didn’t like that she was happy. You didn’t like that you were in pain, and she was happy. If you were being honest with yourself, you might’ve been able to admit you didn’t like Rosaria at all, right now.

“S-Stop, Rosey, it hurts—” She had a pattern, now, a tangible pace, a vengeance you wished you'd never provoked. She must’ve hated you. She must’ve. You couldn’t think of another reason she’d curl her fingers like that, another reason she’d abuse every sensitive spot that made you whine and tremble and tense-up, another reason she’d be so mean, especially to you, especially now, especially here. It wouldn’t even matter if you made noise, if you cried out, if you screamed. It couldn’t be louder than your rapid heartbeat, your racing pulse, the wet clicks that only got worse as Rosaria slipped a third finger in and left you to clench around her, too humiliated to care about the slight pain. “Please, I don’t wanna—”

“What did I say about talking?” She was being cold again, ruthless, but it was a playful sort of cruelness, her tone just lilted enough to make you feel guilty for trying to convince yourself she was such a monster. “You don’t want to what? Sit pretty and let me do all the work? Stand there and cum?” There was a laugh, a flick of her wrist, and the heel of her hand came up to grind against your clit. Instantly, you wished you’d never said anything at all. “Do it. Make yourself useful, for once. Cum.”

You didn’t want to. You really, really, really didn’t want to, but there was nothing you could do to stave it off, to get away from it, to keep your knees from buckling or your body from going rigid or Rosaria from kissing you, stifling the breathy moan that threatened to spill out between choked sobs and quiet pleas for her to stop. At least she was gentle about it, as gentle as she could be, pointed canines barely cutting at your lips, a cloud of lingering cigarette smoke barely choking you, her touch barely forceful enough to bruise, as she cupped your cheek with her free hand, tilting your head back and encouraging you to lean into the gesture.

It was almost sweet, how she lingered, how she didn’t pull away until after the aftershocks had faded, until you’d stopped trying to resist, until you were too tired to do anything but collapse into her when she let you go, catching you the moment you threatened to fold into yourself. It was a small mercy. You didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the ground, sobbing yourself to sleep in some dark, claustrophobic alley. You didn’t want to do that. You didn’t want to be here.

You just wanted to be with Rosaria. You just wanted to be anywhere else, with her.

“Rosey,” you tried, testing the waters. You tried to blink, to stand up on your own, but your eyelids felt heavy, you felt heavy. Rosaria only hummed, in response, snaking an arm around your waist. Already, you were struggling to remember why you couldn’t stand. You were struggling to remember why it hurt so much, when you tried to. “I… I’m not having fun, anymore. Can we go home?”

“You’re lucky I like you, princess.” You were. She was such a good friend, and she always came out drinking with you, and she always took care of you the day afterward, too, when you were sore and hungover and, more often than not, too bruised and battered to get out of bed. Even if the kiss she pressed into the top of your head made you shiver, even if the ghost of her icy breath made your skin crawl, even if a part of you was still begging to keep her at a distance, you were lucky to have her. You were thankful you had her, thankful enough to ignore how low her hands dipped as she held you up, thankful enough to stop yourself from thinking about the slick dripping down your thighs, and the cut on the side of your neck, and the chalk coating your tongue, tasteless and unremarkable, but not completely unfamiliar.

Thankful enough to look up at her and smile, as she finally sapped away the last of your warmth.

“Let’s go home.”

[sepublic]

The Golden Guard: Eda’s Dark Parallel?

           Does anyone else think that the Golden Guard actually reminds Lilith a LOT of Eda, specifically Eda as a kid, during the good old days before she got cursed?

           Think about it… They’re both sassy, hot-headed teen prodigies with an owl motif and yellow attire. And the way Lilith angrily talks about the Golden Guard, it seems her feelings of resentment mirror how she felt towards Eda back when they were kids? Lilith, who was by-the-book and traditional, worked so hard… And then there’s this younger person with an Owl motif who just swoops in out of nowhere and through talent, completely outclasses her!

           If you go with the idea that Lilith wanted Gwendolyn’s approval and had to compete with Eda over that… Then for all we know, maybe Lilith lowkey wanted Belos’ approval as well, but felt like she was being cheated out of that with the Golden Guard, who kept stealing the spotlight from her! 

          Like she was afraid he’d take her spot as head of the Emperor’s Coven, the way Lilith feared that Eda would win the initiation duel back when they were kids… And lo and behold, the Golden Guard DID take that! Granted Lilith left an obvious vacancy from her own betrayal of Belos so of course he took that spot, but still; It’s quite a sore spot.

           In some ways, perhaps Lilith is aware of this, deep-down or not; She might see the Golden Guard as just Young Eda, but without any of the emotional connection, nor any redeeming qualities; If he does have them, again, it’s not like Lilith knows the Golden Guard well enough to know these traits, much less take them into account.

           LOTS of text and speculation and analyses below!!!

           The Golden Guard is even sixteen years old… Which, is very likely EDA’s age, back when her and Lilith competed for the Emperor’s Coven! That can take on a whole new, dark meaning for her… 

          Perhaps Lilith is low-key disturbed by the Golden Guard’s existence, because he reminds her too much of Young Eda? Eda, before she was cursed- So it’s like the memory of her is coming back to haunt Lilith, in the form of someone who has no concern for Lilith whatsoever to hold him back, unlike the actual Eda.

           And in a way, it’s a horrible reminder that some things never change, that some things stay the same and Lilith can’t get past them, she can’t outgrow it like she thought she did; Because even now, even as head of the Emperor’s Coven, there’s still a 16-year-old prodigy with an owl motif and yellow attire, who is sassy and playful and mischievous, who threatens to upstage Lilith’s self-esteem and sense of power. Somebody Lilith is afraid of; Thirty years later, and she STILL has to deal with this kind of person in her life, but it’s worse because she’s actually older and should be better, yet somehow isn’t…

           Who knows? Maybe Lilith even recognized the similarities to Eda, enough to actually be sympathetic to the Golden Guard at first? Perhaps she, on some level, saw the Golden Guard as a way to vicariously redo her past with Eda, but without the mistakes… Maybe she tried to be nice to the Golden Guard, but then he quickly turned out to be a snob, he’s not REALLY Eda; So Lilith settled on never cursing him like she did Eda, but then otherwise decided that she didn’t owe him any love and could just quietly loathe his guts.

          Lilith failed Eda in part because she was an older sister who abandoned her in a time of need, but there’s not really that expectation with the Golden Guard, so why bother? She’s got enough on her plate as is, and an ACTUAL Eda to worry about, to look after, to be concerned for and patch things up with.

           I’ve even seen people make the very good point that in a lot of ways… The Golden Guard is like a Dark Eda? In the sense that, he’s Eda, had she joined the Emperor’s Coven as a kid. He’s a look at Young Eda, if she didn’t reject the Coven System, and joined Belos- Reveling in her own talent and power as granting her ‘special treatment’ over the rest, so any downsides to the coven system weren’t HER problem anyway!

           Again, this adds another layer to the Golden Guard being very reminiscent of Young Eda, and even current Eda as well… Except, he never lost his magic and was never cursed. Maybe that’s another thing he unknowingly haunts Lilith over; He’s lowkey a reminder of what Eda could’ve been, had Lilith not been selfish and a coward, or had she communicated better. Yet at the same time, he’s frustrating- Because the Golden Guard is like the worst parts of Eda, the parts that Lilith hated and made her resentful…

           And this constant reminder of the past, of her own issues with Eda back then that culminated in the curse- It could’ve made it a LOT harder for Lilith to really resolve things with Eda, because this kid keeps reminding her why she was so angry, and it’s impossible for her to move on because the Golden Guard isn’t some distant memory, but an actual person who continues to threaten her, the way Eda had…

          And of course, the Golden Guard reminds Lilith of the Eda she lost; The happy, carefree Eda who wasn’t cursed, the Eda she could’ve had in a sense. The Eda that Lilith in some ways wanted, yet is forced to confront and acknowledge is a very obnoxious and terrible person that makes her unhappy…

          And this kind of rude reminder that the Eda that Lilith wanted would’ve continued to make her miserable, if not moreso, is not something she appreciates shattering her dreams and low-key denial, of a world where things had just been a little different.

          The person you’re trying to get, maybe get BACK, wasn’t so great after all- So you just have to move on, and be glad for the Eda who IS happier with her life and more mature, despite being older and more cursed. You gotta move past your guilt Lilith, and realize that Eda is in a better place- Not that she ever needed the curse, but she doesn’t quite need saving from the parts of her life she actually chose for herself, in part to be kind to Lilith no less! Because I bet Lilith believes that deep down, she didn’t deserve Eda’s kindness, so she wishes to reverse that compassionate decision of Eda’s that only resulted in Eda suffering because of how terrible Lily secretly is.

           But, back to the subject; There’s more similarities to Eda and the Golden Guard, especially at the end of Separate Tides; How he makes an ominous warning before casually, happily yelling “BYYEEEE!!!”, just like Eda when she warns Luz about trying to have a Moonlight Conjuring in Hooty’s Moving Hassle, before heading off to the Night Market. His widow’s peak even bears a decent resemblance to Eda’s, doesn’t it? Which…

           Combined with all of the talk about bird motifs being a Clawthorne thing, it DOES raise many questions about the Golden Guard’s potential connection to Eda. Is he some long-lost son? A third child that Gwendolyn had later in life, because witch biology might allow them to do that? Some homunculus, crafted from bits of DNA from Eda, and maybe even Belos? Belos does seem weirdly fond and trusting of him, the two are placed together in the Season 2 outro when nobody else, not even Kikimora, is there; And of course, the Golden Guard wields a staff, red magic, and fleshy creations, VERY similar to Belos…

           I can’t say for sure- But the idea of the Golden Guard as an alternate Eda is fascinating. An Eda who became completely arrogant, and didn’t stop to care about others; Her cockiness and mischief becoming cruel and obnoxious, essentially the worst parts of Eda, down the path she’d always dreaded. A look into another life, a different choice in such a pivotal part of her past… Personally, I LOVE this kind of dark parallel of a character, so I’m hoping these similarities are commented upon in-universe, assuming they’re not outright literal!

           In a way, the Golden Guard could haunt Eda, because he reminds her of herself… Of her carefree youth, but what she could’ve had… But also, the terrible things she’d done. And obviously Eda despises the coven system too much to really change her mind, and it’s safe to say that the Golden Guard is not at all what she wanted to ever become… But still, it’s a neat bit of character writing and parallelism. If Belos is like a Dark Luz, what Luz could’ve been had she not grown… And the same could apply between King and Kikimora;

           Then who knows? The Golden Guard could be a Dark Eda, who got by talent and continued to take things for granted. An Eda who swore loyalty to Belos and was embraced by the emperor for her skill and ability. Jovial and cheery, but without any of the actual compassion that makes this genuine with Eda. An immature brat who never grew up (granted he’s only sixteen and hasn’t gotten the chance), unlike Eda. And if the Golden Guard is an alternate Eda;

           It’s fascinating how his roles are reversed with his alternate Luz… The Eda parallel is younger than the Luz parallel, learning from them, and taking after their motifs as well! But I guess it’s not all too surprising, with how Eda and Luz both learn from one another, though I suspect Belos and the Golden Guard aren’t as mutual, but who knows? 

          It does make you wonder about Kikimora and King as potential mediators between these duos, whose placement remains consistent… How does Kikimora, the King parallel, interact with her Luz and Eda? Did she become close friends with HER Luz, while, as Dana’s art suggests, she seems somewhat irritated by and resentful of her own Eda? So it’s like Eda and King never grew to be friends and conquer differences… As well as if King never grew to respect Luz and saw her as just a “f*cking nerd”?

           With how Luz is taking after Eda, and possibly getting a Cardinal palisman to complete the Clawthorne motif as a new member of the family… Who knows? The Golden Guard could be an intriguing character for her to bounce off of narratively, maybe as someone Luz might have, in another universe, learned to look up to and admire? How well Luz’s relationship be with the Golden Guard, if they are a Dark Eda? And how can this indirectly show us about how Luz and Young Eda would’ve interacted, what Young Eda was like, what Lilith went through as a kid…

           And, for all we know- The Golden Guard’s owl motif doesn’t hint at a pre-existing connection to the Clawthornes, but rather a future one… Maybe he’ll end up being adopted by Eda, the way Luz was? I’d love to see the Golden Guard become an evil older sibling who’s protective of Luz… 

          I ADORE that trope to death; Evil older brother with bright, younger sister, whom he cares about, and the sister cares for him too, even if it’s complicated because the sister believes in the brother to be better, while the brother doesn’t want to be better, or is at least reluctant about having to change…

           I’d love to see another Hugo and Kipo dynamic, and actually… If the Golden Guard parallels Eda, then who’s his Lilith? Could it be Luz herself? I’ve talked before the similarities between Luz and Lilith, as kids who were bullied and struggled with a lack of talent, but made up for it with hard work and ingenuity; They’ll give you a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, but then happily leap at the opportunity if they think someone is improving.

           And, as Separate Tides has also shown us; They both grapple with guilt over making Eda suffer, unintentionally to varying degrees. Luz and Lilith both learn that they’re not a burden and that it’s okay to ask for help, and come to terms with their guilt with Eda… If Belos and the Golden Guard are Luz and Eda reversed, then could Luz and the Golden Guard also be Lilith and Luz, reversed?

          With the Eda parallel being the older sibling in this scenario… An alternate timeline where Eda and Lilith were the same people, but switched places in birth, and it was EDA who ended up being the cruel and toxic sibling who left the younger feeling demeaned and worthless. I imagine if that were the case, the Golden Guard’s toxicity would occur largely in the beginning, as he acts adversarial to Luz and mocks her, taunts her over Eda’s loss of magic, and her own glyphs no doubt; The Golden Guard doesn’t seem to acknowledge glyphs as a valid form of magic himself.

           But then, if he were to get a redemption, the Golden Guard’s tune might change as he matures and learns to treat Luz more kindly… In a way mimicking how Eda really grew to care for Luz, but also the way Eda has begun to reconnect with Lilith, except with the Golden Guard as the one with the baggage and guilt.

           And, a redemption might not be too implausible, because… He is literally only sixteen, the same age as Emira and Edric, and likely the same age as Eda when SHE was cursed. Younger than Lilith, when she made the worst mistake of her life, because she didn’t understand the coven system for what it truly was –and who could blame her?- and was grappling with a likely terrible mother in Gwendolyn… The Golden Guard is literally a minor, and possibly an overworked teen prodigy.

           After all, the first glimpse of his personality Dana gave us, way back in 2020, was of the Golden Guard admitting that he was tired; And despite his usually cheery personality, all of our glimpses at his face behind the mask (symbolism!) have had him look likely serious and glum… But then again, we don’t see the lower half of his face, so who knows? 

          Perhaps the Golden Guard is abused and overworked by Belos, kind of like Amity with her parents… The Golden Guard is a child dealing with a very toxic influence, and a huge burden of responsibility no less. And with all the potential connections to Belos as maybe even a literal father, or at least a parental figure, it’s not hard to see why the Golden Guard would turn out so messed up. And the Golden Guard being ‘tired’ could be a connection to how Eda is left exhausted from her curse, too.

           So, who knows? Because of his age, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect, or at least hope, for a redemption for this kiddo. But a recent sister show to The Owl House has taught me anything, kids aren’t free from death, and Infinity Train made it clear that you can humanize and sympathize and mourn someone who deserved better, yet ultimately dug their grave and was condemned to a sudden death because of that; All because they didn’t know any better, and really couldn’t have.

           And on another note- Maybe the Golden Guard has owl motifs like Eda… Because in a lot of ways, he actually admires her? He admires the Owl Lady, or at least the certain ‘past’ version that others such as Lilith may have brought up… Maybe the Golden Guard seeks to supplant Eda the Owl Lady as The Most Powerful Witch in the Boiling Isles. Maybe he sees himself as Eda, but better, and this rebellious, hot-headed kid feels the need to prove himself by defeating someone he sees himself in.

           Maybe the Golden Guard is like Lilith, as someone who wishes Eda could’ve joined the coven system, and he’s disappointed in how all her talent was ‘wasted’ on other things. Maybe the Golden Guard was disappointed in Eda losing her magic, losing further respect for his ‘problematic idol’, and/or he felt some validation and vindication in being a successor to Eda. 

          Does he hold some grudge? Did the Owl Lady’s power excite him, give the Golden Guard a goal to recklessly challenge and defeat, so he can experience the thrill of victory and add to this feeling of invincibility that teenagers, especially the talented ones, have?

           Eda as a kid, and even now, has always been fond of spiting what others say she can’t do, or setting new precedents and accomplishments to prove herself. Maybe the Golden Guard is like that, and hopes to take on the onus of outdoing the Owl Lady; Perhaps he admires Eda, and wishes she could’ve joined a coven like him. As an outside admirer, he mourns Eda’s ‘potential’ in a way similar to Lilith, but different; Because he’s a kid who looks up to her, and not an older sibling that has an actual childhood with Eda. If so, then that’s another dark parallel to Luz;

           After all, Luz got frustrated by Eda in Adventures in the Elements. So maybe the Golden Guard is someone who grew resentful of Eda for not living up to the legend he hoped, the image he wanted, sort of like Lilith! I’ll go out on a limb and even suggest him as a past apprentice, who unlike Luz, never learned to be patient and appreciate Eda’s teachings, so he turned to the coven system and Belos for easy gratification. He didn’t want to be challenged… And in that way, the Golden Guard could parallel my speculation on Belos, as also a Dark Luz.

          So of course, it makes sense that Belos would recognize this same dilemma in the Golden Guard, and perhaps be sympathetic and take him under his wing for it. Eda might not recognize the Golden Guard because he’s changed a bit himself, is hiding his own identity –Lilith doesn’t seem to know much about the witch beneath the mask either, just the public image and façade- and Eda’s been having memory issues. Maybe this will add to the Golden Guard’s resentment, who knows? He really might just be a rebellious teen who Eda failed, unlike with Luz… And that could add to more envy, perhaps.

           At the very least; Dana’s fondness for the Golden Guard takes on a whole new meaning… What with how Eda is pretty much one of, if not THE most favorite character of hers, the one who really jumpstarted this entire show and world to begin with… Having this other character she likes essentially be a canon AU version of that beloved creation, would certainly make a lot of sense! Dana likes Eda, she likes to show us about Young Eda; So a character who IS Young Eda, just on a different path, would likely appeal to her. We’ll see…

           I think it’s worth noting that in her art of the Golden Guard, it depicts him as essentially a normal, lazy teenager who’s asking someone else to do his chore for him, while he lounges around to do something else. I could see a young Eda as occasionally fulfilling that role and asking her older sister Lily for a favor- And maybe this could allude to the Golden Guard being frequently exhausted from being overworked himself, hence “I’m tired” and wanting to extend his breaks as much as possible. We’ll just have to wait and see…

[velveteenbunnny]

How I Think TOH Characters would Take Care of You when You’re Sick

Luz

Luz would probably be one of the sweetest people to help you out if you’re sick

I feel like her mom taught her how to help illnesses like colds or stomach flus since that sort of stuff is useful to know

Luz would be checking up on you every 5 minutes asking if you needed more water, tissues, soup, etc.

Luz will also go the extra mile to make sure you get some peace and quiet in the house which considering the inhabitants, can be VERY difficult

She’s not too stressed or worried if it’s something small since she’s confident in her ability to help you

She’ll try to keep her spirits high around you as well and will make sure you know that she’s looking after you so you have nothing to worry about

Luz is also great at keeping you company! She knows that since you’re sick you can’t really do much, but she’s more than willing to lend you her Azura books or to binge watch an anime series with you

Luz will also be strict about you overexerting yourself too. As long as you’re sick she’ll insist that you don’t stress yourself out over missed school or work

Overall I’d give her a 9.5/10. She might spill some of your soup, but she’s one of the best friends to help you out when you’re sick.

Hooty and King

One word: CHAOS

First off, King has no idea how to treat any illness. He just wants to know why exactly you aren’t playing with him like usual

Once he realizes that there’s something wrong he’ll be a bit more sympathetic, though he still doesn’t know how to help

But what kind of pal would Hooty be if he didn’t offer some a hand...er...creepy worm body? Yeah, he has no idea what he’s doing either.

I feel like it would be a constant struggle between the two over what’s best for you

They would make/attempt to make some soup for you! It’s probably not idea to eat though, since Hooty keeps dropping mice and bugs for ‘extra protein’

King may get worried and upset when nothing he tries seems to be working and you’ll have to explain to him that you’ll get over being sick eventually and that you’re just happy he’s doing his best

Luz will probably step at some point in to actually help you

I’ll give them a 3/10. They’re not the best at treating you, but laughter is the best medicine after all

Eda

Before Luz came along Eda wasn’t really used to taking care of other people so she might be a bit awkward when it comes to watching over you

She’ll lay off the teasing a bit though, and will treat you extra nice. She understands you might not need that right now

I can see her going on some dangerous, over-the-top, wacky adventure to gather ingredients for a potion to heal you

She’ll play it off as being bothered by having to take care of you, but she really just wants you to get well soon

Eda will probably do some flashy magic tricks to entertain you too! As stated before, laughter is the best medicine

Eda also convinces King to do a cute dance to cheer you up which is a foolproof way to make you smile

Eda gets an 8/10 for being fun, but gets docked 2 points for making you drink an icky potion

Lilith

While Eda is just slightly awkward, Lilith is a whole other level

She does want to help you, but she’s also kind of worried about getting sick. She’s not an extreme germaphobe then and will get herself together

Will want to comfort you but has a tricky time showing affection. She’ll show her care by kind acts though

She’ll sit near your bed and will read to/with you if you’re bored and brings you hot tea with lots of honey in it

Like Luz, I can also see Lilith being well informed in how to take care of light illnesses like colds

Unlike Luz , Lilith learned it from studying and taking care of it herself since her mom didn’t spend a lot of time looking after Lilith when she was sick

Lilith doesn’t want to repeat those mistakes though, and will stick by you until you’re feeling better

Lilith probably will try to make a potion to help like Eda does, but she has all the ingredients on hand since she’s prepared

Lilith gets a 9/10, she’s slightly more organized and prepared than Eda, but still has awkward moments

Amity

Once Amity hears that you’re sick, she kind of panics

Yeah, she’s aware that it’s nothing major, but you’re one of her closest friends! What if it grows into something more serious!?

After lots of reassurance from you(and possibly Luz) she manages to calm down a bit and goes straight into serious mode

I hope you didn’t have any plans, because you are not going ANYWHERE with that fever. YOU. NEED. REST. AND. SOUP.

Needless to say you’ll probably feel a bit smothered during this period of time

Amity helps you study and finish school work from home since she is not about to let some sickness mess up your whole grade

If she notices you getting overwhelmed though, she’ll take a break with you just to talk, read, or listen to music

After you get better, she’ll definitely study more on medical conditions for if this happens again

I would give her a 7/10. She will help you as much as possible, but will also struggle with being able to take a step back to let you relax on your own

Edric and Emira

Much like Hooty and King, these two will also cause all sorts of trouble

When they realize that you’re sick though, they immediately lay off the pranks(towards you at least)

Instead, they decide to work together to get you to smile!

When they aren’t pranking everyone else or even each other, they’re sharing funny stories and planning even more mischief with you for when you finally get well again

They might even need to take a break for a little because of how you end up going into a coughing fit from laughing so much

They won’t be too much help with actually healing you, but they’re the best emotional support anyone could ask for

I feel like they’ll eventually ask Amity for help with treating you, but will still stick around to tease the both of you

Ed and Em get a 6/10, they always know how to make you laugh, but the trail of chaos they leave behind them gets them docked a few points

(A/N): First post!! Wow!! Also this was sort of a vent since I've been sick for the past couple days and I low-key wish someone would take care of me, but it's the week so everyone's busy

[littleoddwriter]

Slashers x GN!Reader with BPD | Headcanons

This is purely for my own comfort, so, yeah - that obviously means that I have BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder). This only focuses on a few specific symptoms I struggle with, since I needed comfort for those in particular, at the moment.

notes; GenderNeutral!Reader; Intense Fear of Abandonment/Abandonment Issues; Splitting; Favourite Person (FP); Trauma; Self-Harm; Intense Mood Swings; Routines; Hurt/Comfort; Unintentionally Lashing Out on Others; Unstable Relationships (at times, but only on the Reader’s end); Impulsive and Self-Destructive Behaviour.

Characters: Asa Emory/The Collector; Charles Lee Ray/Chucky (Human); Chop Top Sawyer; Jesse Cromeans/Chromsekull; Lester Sinclair; William Easton (not a Slasher, but part of the SAW Franchise, so-).

Asa Emory/The Collector

He became your Favourite Person all too quickly – you couldn’t bear it when he wasn’t with you, when he wouldn’t reply to your texts, or return your calls, and when you didn’t know what he was up to

You split on him a lot in the beginning, and eventually you had reached your breaking point and told him how you felt and how scared you were and if he didn’t actually want you, he should just say so

Surprisingly, Asa ended up reaching a compromise with you, so that he would always text you once an hour, no matter what, to tell you that he was alright and what he was doing – He didn’t mind and was in fact the one to offer this strategy after you weren’t sure what to suggest, as you didn’t want to corner him

It works out well for you two, unless something comes up and he can’t text you – and as the hours stretch, you start spiralling again, having panic attacks, splitting on him, and/or harming yourself

When he comes home on such nights, he takes care of you, comforts you to the best of his abilities and apologises for not letting you know that something had happened earlier

At times that you already wake up in a mood, he would just take you with him to work, or his ‘hobby’ to keep an eye on you and assure you that he doesn’t mind, and that he’s here for you

He never judges you for hurting yourself either – he’ll just nurse your wounds and kiss them better

Charles Lee Ray/Chucky

At first he doesn’t take it all too seriously, although he does educate himself and lets you elaborate on your individual symptoms and struggles – he just has trouble being empathic and sympathetic about it

Still, whenever necessary, he’s here for you and he’ll hold you close as you cry, scream or go on about whatever set you off (he might even avenge you if someone was an asshole to you/triggered you/etc.)

He doesn’t mind your self-destructive and/or impulsive behaviours – he knows it’s not on purpose and he really isn’t one to talk after all in terms of impulsiveness at least

Being your FP might have caused some problems at first, since he doesn’t understand why you can’t just trust his word that he isn’t going to drop you one second to the other; but he eventually comes around and you two work on strategies to prevent you from spiralling too much when he’s not in reach

After a while, he starts being possessive of you anyway, and that’s when it really stops being a problem – he makes sure you know that he loves you and that you’re his

Chop Top Sawyer

No thanks to having been involved in Vietnam, he has his fair share of traumas and flashbacks as well, so that’s something he is better at comforting and helping you out with than anyone else – you both do

Since he doesn’t actually work anymore, he’s always at home with you when you’re there – he’s happy to not leave your side for long at times, and he’s even happier to have lengthy phone calls with you when you are apart

He may not be the best with words and displays of affection, but he does his best to assure you anyway, especially when you desperately need it

Self-harm is nothing shameful to him at all; and just like the others, he’ll only make sure you’re okay and your wounds will heal the way they’re supposed to

In a strange way, he actually enjoys being your FP – probably because he’s not used to this kind of attention and actually being needed by another person (apart from Nubbins, back when they were kids)

He even takes your intense mood swings in stride – mostly because he is sometimes a little oblivious to it anyway, but also because he knows you never mean it when you’re being distant or snippy

If you ever have an episode in his presence, he’ll comfort you as best as he can, if you let him close, and reassures you that it’s okay and that you’re safe with him (you’re special after all) – it usually works surprisingly well and it’s nice to be able to ride out your emotions and not be completely on your own in the process

Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull

If you didn’t already have a therapist, he’d make sure you have one by the end of the week, after you’ve told him about your diagnosis and constant struggles because of it

Puts in a lot of effort into researching it in addition to what you’ve told him about your individual problems

When you tell him that he’s your FP, he takes it well enough – it doesn’t make him feel pressured, since he only sees it as a benefit to know it, because he can actively help to make it easier on you

So when he is out to work, he’ll text you regularly, send you photos, tells you what he’s doing, that he misses you, that he loves you, that he can’t wait to come back home to you, etc. and it soothes you a lot

He comforts you whenever needed and just showers you in kisses while you lie on top of him as he holds you close

If you hurt yourself and let him know, or he sees it, he never holds it against you and instead makes sure your wounds heal properly and that you know he is here for you if the urge comes back to help you resist it – he will also take good care of injuries that are worse

Whenever you are triggered by anything or suddenly started to feel bad or are having flashbacks, he is here for you – be that physically or not, depending on it, he’ll gladly puts everything on the back-burner to help you out, text back and forth with you until it’s passed/you feel a little better/more stable

Essentially you’re never alone with your struggles again; he takes such great care of you and accommodates you as well as he can to make life easier for you, and you couldn’t be more grateful

Lester Sinclair

When you tell him what’s going on with you, after he’s asked you about the very sudden mood swings you’ve displayed and he wanted to make sure you’re okay – he was confused and admittedly very uneducated on all the possible mental disorders that exist (you can’t blame him, though)

So you spend quite some time on telling him how BPD affects you personally and what he could do to help make it easier on you, especially since relationships are such a difficult thing for you

He grasps the basics very quickly and he rarely leaves you alone, unless you want to be by yourself or he can’t take you with him on some drives

Of course he’s concerned when you harm yourself, but he doesn’t make you feel bad about it – he understands that you can’t just turn it off and not do it – and he usually gets Vincent to take care of your wounds if they need better medical attention than your own, since he’s good and practised at it

Sometimes you might lash out at him – especially when you split on him, or you’re already irritated in general – and while he never blames you for it or holds it against you, it takes him aback a little every time (being used to such things from Bo helps him handle it better, though)

But it’s easy for you two to reassure each other of your love and make sure nobody’s feelings are ever seriously hurt – so despite all that, you share a good, fulfilling and healthy relationship

William Easton

Due to working with health insurances, he knows a lot about every possible illness – not just physical ones, so he was already familiar with the concept of BPD, which came as a relief when you told him

He takes it in stride every day – your mood swings are exhausting to yourself and while they can be tiring for him as well, he never lets on, since he is more determined to be here for you and help you through the worse ones

Since he’ll often stay in the office after hours to work some more, you two phone a lot whenever possible, or he sends you little texts to assure you of his presence and the fact that he is not going to suddenly bail on you

Still, no thanks to the stress his work puts on him, he unintentionally has an exasperated tone with you every now and again, which may cause you to spiral and split on him, but it usually turns out to be alright later – it’s just exhausting for you both

Whenever you engage in self harming behaviours, he comforts you and helps you out – he supports you throughout and keeps encouraging you; he can only guess how hard it must be to resist all these urges and try to ignore your intrusive thoughts

Whenever possible, he’ll buy you gifts to remind you of his love and presence – it’s always unexpected, which is the whole point, since he’s learned that those kinds of presents work far better to reassure you

[imagine-that-100]

Stop It

Description: When bad habits come back, it leaves you with worries and feeling self-aware. But when your boyfriend spots this, he just has to prove you wrong.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: This was requested by an Anon. Really hope this was okay, I tried my best with it. Hope everyone else enjoys and I’d love to know what you think! Thank you for reading x

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As a kid all you heard when it came to you and your little habit was, “Stop it.”

Picking and biting at your lips was something that had haunted you for as long as you could remember. Cracked and broken skin on your lips were almost a constant and it haunted you still even now.

After you’d been ill with the flu or a cold, or something your lips liked to taunt you. Even just after being out in the cold for too long without applying some lip balm.

It was a fucking pain.

And because they used to be in such a bad condition, you just assumed that once the dead skin was off you'd be fine. So picking at them and biting them seemed like it was helping.

Oh how wrong you were.

So that was when you got constant ‘Stop it’s from your parents and when you caught yourself doing it you said a silent ‘stop it’ to yourself.

And the past few days you’d fallen back into that bad habit because you’d just got over a cold. So when you were at work today, stressing out over a client, you caught yourself staring at your laptop with your elbow rested on your desk and your fingers on your lips, picking at a little piece of dry skin you’d found.

Stop it.

Then you caught yourself biting them later when you were trying to actually make the custom design for your client. Another ‘stop it’ filled your mind.

Then again on the phone to another client who was being rude.

Stop it.

And again, when you were driving back home to your boyfriend who’d just flew back in from a series of shows he’d done.

STOP IT!

All you wanted to do was be able to kiss your boyfriend, but no way would he want to go anywhere near you if your lips split. Thankfully the first day or two when Matty was back home your lips held out.

You tried your best to control your habit and with Matty distracting you from work stresses it became a little easier. But when you were at work and he obviously wasn’t around you fell back into old habits.

And after a particularly stressful day at work, you did the worst.

You accidently split your lip.

Never had you not wanted to go home to Matty more. He was affectionate with you in the best of ways and he almost always wanted a kiss and a cuddle when it was just the two of you alone together.

But you didn’t want to kiss him with your lips in the state they were. Despite trying every lip balm, lip scrub, and moisturizer, nothing had helped over the past few days they still fucking split.

You hated it, and you hated that it made you anxious for Matty to see you like that. Thankfully, he’d never seen you like this before but something in you made you think he’d want nothing to do with you.

Maybe it was your old anxiety creeping back in. Or maybe it was just the fear of rejection.

Whatever the reason, it made you want to hide yourself from the person you shouldn’t be hiding yourself from.

“Hey.” You called when you got home, knowing Matty was around somewhere.

“Hey.” Matty calls back from the lounge, “How was work?”

When you walk in and see your boyfriend with his long mop of curls, you smile saying, “Stressful.”

“Bastards being picky again?” Matty grins when his brown eyes connect with your Y/E/C ones.

You chuckle remembering you’d complained about your clients to him on multiple occasions. You loved your job but god you met some pretentious people along the way.

“Not more so than you when it comes to buying your vintage clothes.” You tease him, throwing your coat down on the settee before leaning over him and kissing the top of his head.

Matty playfully scoffs, “I’m not being picky, I just have taste.”

“Sure, that's what we'll call it.” You giggle as Matty pulls you down onto his lap so he could give you a hug.

His arms wrap around you and he buries his head into your neck. You smile, feeling him kiss your skin a few times but you just bury your nose into his soft curls that smell like his expensive almond conditioner, as you ask, “How’s your day been?”

“Boring without you here.” Matty tells you and even though he’s just being kind, it makes you smile.

As you ask, “How are the boys?” Matty’s lips slowly trace their way up your neck and to your jaw.

Your anxiety set in a bit then, knowing exactly where they were headed.

“They’re alright, I suppose.” Matty tells you, he kisses just under your ear before he says, “Wanna see you apparently.”

“Well that's no shock, they do love me more than they love you.” You joke.

Matty chuckles a little at that and kisses across your cheek as he whines, “You’re mineee.”

You giggle at that and throw your head laughing back just before his lips reach the corner of yours.

Matty chuckles too hearing your laugh and he kisses under your jaw whilst it’s exposed to him. Your laugh was so adorable, and he’d never tire of hearing it.

“Do you want a brew?” You ask the love of your life as you get up out of his lap.

Matty smiles, looking up at your gorgeous face, “I’d love a coffee please.”

You nod and head to the kitchen feeling a little relief that you’d got out of that one. You didn’t want him to be repulsed by the thought of kissing you, so you’d rather avoid kissing him instead.

But that turned out to be what gave you away.

That night you went to George’s for a Chinese with them all. Adam brought Carly with him so you ended up talking to her for most of the night to try and avoid PDA.

You just received passing kisses on the head or on the cheek that night, even when you crawled into bed later you just tucked your head under Matty’s chin and let sleep take over you quickly.

The following day you avoided them too and you thought you were being subtle about it. Sometimes you playfully dodged his kiss and kissed his cheek instead, and other times you made him kiss your cheek when he went in for one, because you’d put lip balm on.

But the day after you were still doing the same despite not being in a playful mood or having anything on your lips.

You were standing in your kitchen with Matty’s arms around your waist making the both of you an omelette for lunch. You’d told Matty to just take a seat at your kitchen table as he kept trying to distract you with hugs from behind and trying to lean over you and kiss your face.

You laugh but instruct him once more to sit himself down. After another minute of him pestering you, you nudge him with your hip to move himself over to the table and he finally lets go of you and lets you finish your delicious creation.

He says a thank you when you place it down in front of him and he was going to give you a kiss until you practically whipped yourself back to the kitchen counter, just ruffling his hair

“Hey.” Matty says to make you look over at him, and when you do, he asks, “What’s up?”

You put your own lunch on your plate and when you sit down on the seat at the end of the table, you say, “Nothing, why?”

Matty points out, “You've not let me kiss you for the past two days.”

You go quiet then feeling bad because you haven’t kissed your boyfriend. And for the fact you’d not been honest about it and its leading him to ask questions like, “Have I done something?

“No Matty.” You tell him softly, never wanting to make him think that.

You look into his gorgeous brown eyes and you can see he’s just curious about your behaviour. Usually you’re all over each other, but you have been pretty distant and with him only being back for 3 weeks it hurt your heart not to have him the way you wanted him.

But you’d rather not have the anxiousness that came with you being overly self-aware of your lips against his.

“Then what’s up?” Matty asks, watching as you avoid eye contact and just concentrate on your food.

You glance at his plate and see it’s going untouched, so you gesture to it saying, “I promise I’m fine, just eat before it goes cold.”

“Don’t tell me you've gone off me?” Matty says after a few seconds.  

And when you just take a deep breath to try and think over another excuse, Matty asks, “Oh my god, have you?”

“No.” Your eyes snap up to his in panic. You didn’t want him to think that at all, so you repeat, “No, never.”

“Then what's up?” Matty chuckles and then noticing your look of panic he makes light of it asking, “I’m feeling very affection starved.”

You close your eyes, sighing, “Matty.”

“Come on, love.” Your boyfriend chuckles before taking your hand and asking again, “What’s up?”

“Is it not obvious?” You ask, feeling like your lips were really disgusting right now.

Matty shakes his head, “I’ve got no clue why you won't let me kiss you.”

After a deep breath you tell him the truth, “My lips are a fucking state.”

“Your lips are fine.” Matty frowns a little confused, looking down at them. “What do you mean?”

You say in a vulnerable voice, hating having to point it out, “Matty it’s split.”

Matty glances back down at then again and he reaches up to cup your jaw. You resist the urge to pull away from his reach because after all he was the person who knew you best.

His thumb comes up and runs across your bottom lip then and he shakes his head, “It's tiny.”

You shake your head a little so his thumb drops. He was being polite; it wasn’t tiny at all. The only highlight was that it was starting to heal.

You follow up with, “I hate it, they feel all dry and disgusting.”

“You’re thinking they are a lot worse than they are Darling. I don’t hate them at all.” Matty says, scooting his chair a little closer so he could easily trace your lips again.

He softly asks, a little more sympathetic, “Did you really not want to kiss me because of that?”

“It’s vile.” You shake your head.

“It’s not.” Matty says and then adds, “You’re my girlfriend, I wanna kiss you all the time.”

You put your hand over your lips and shake your head.

“Stop that.” Matty bats your hand away but as soon as he retreats you cover your lips again.

“Stop it.” Matty insists, pulling your hand down and keeping hold of it, “You don’t have to do that.”

You try to pull your hand away but when he doesn’t let you, so you just bring your other one up when you say, “I do because you keep looking.”

“Only because I want to kiss them.” Matty grins at you.

You shake your head and look back down. Noticing your plates are still full, you try to change the subject by saying, “The food’s going cold.”

“It’ll get colder if you don't give me a kiss.” Matty grins.

You sigh then, still feeling conscious and you’re about to protest but your boyfriend doesn’t let you retreat again.

“Y/N.” Matty says before you can protest, “I want to kiss you all the time.”

He then makes a pouty face at you then and puckers his lips making kissing noises at you. He gets you giggling within seconds and your heart swells with how lovely he’s being towards you.

Matty can obviously tell it's something you’re not comfortable about. But he didn’t care in the slightest.

He loved you with the whole of his heart and he’d do everything he could to make you love yourself as much as he loved you. And if that meant kissing your pretty lips every second of every day, he would do.

You chuckle at your boyfriend puckering his lips at you and you ask, “Even wanna kiss me when my lips are mingin’?”

“They’re not mingin’.” Matty assures you before he just abandons his chair and just kneels on the ground in front of you.

He still has a hold of your hand and he gives it a little squeeze before he assures you, “I love you Y/N, course I wanna kiss you.”

You smile at him then and when he actually goes go for the kiss Matty is really happy you don’t stop him. Your kiss was just as sweet as it usually was and Matty felt the excitement bubble away inside him like it always had at the mere thought of kissing you.

But Matty just kept his one sweet, making sure you were calm and relaxed. And he was pleased to know you were.

When Matty pulls away, he smiles, “See...? Wasn't so bad, was it?

Your cheeks go a little hot then, seeing how much adoration was in his eyes. You don't hesitate to tell him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Matty grins, before cheekily asking, “Can you have another one?”

You giggle at his one-track mind, but you decide to make him wait. You pass him your plate and say, “After you warm up my eggs.��

Your boyfriend takes it with a laugh and grabs his own plate. But he steals one more kiss from his gorgeous girlfriend on the way back to the stove.

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You can add yourself to my Taglists in my Masterlist x

[stanknotstark]

Curse Her (No Really)

So that’s the look i imagine is on Loki’s face when he’s like “Can’t know what?” Anyways I had this idea yesterday after thinking about how I grew into an allergy to acrylic. It started off as an idea to grow into an allergy to gold but then i was like NO what if Amora cursed you instead and just ran with it lol Also Uno is totally the Monopoly of card games, I play it with my friends online and there is constant back stabbing and yelling 😂

P.S. I nearly said pus-y but spelled it as pu$$y and just barely caught it holy cow that could have been bad 🤣

Summary: Amora curses you so you can’t wear gold anymore, the metal being Loki’s favorite type of jewelry to gift you and see you wear with pride. You don’t want to tell him because you’re strong and independent and can figure this out without him, right?

In hindsight you should have seen this coming, honestly. 

You sit in the lab with Tony, you on his table, your legs dangling, and Tony in his seat looking over the holoscreen in front of him with a frown. Bruce is out of town being the humanitarian he is so Tony is left with the job of running scans on those who are affected in battle. You’re just lucky Loki joined the team and helped Tony and Bruce make machines that can scan magic. 

“She cast a spell so you can’t wear gold anymore?” Tony says, his frown deepening. “That’s...a stupid curse.” Tony says looking a bit bewildered.

You let out a bitter chuckle. “She’s jealous that Loki is with me and knows that he loves to gift his sweethearts gold jewelry,” You tell the genius with a roll of your eyes. You look at the ground and sigh. “I suppose I should keep this a secret because if Loki finds out he’ll hunt down Amora and attack her. The last thing I want is Amora teasing me for not being able to fight my own fights.” 

“That is a horrible idea,” Tony pips up looking at you sympathetically. “However, as the resident, number one placeholder of bad ideas, I say do exactly that if you’re really that turned off by some teasing.” Tony says, half heartedly trying to convince you to not follow through with this plan but knowing he failed by the pinched look on your face. 

It only takes two days. Two. For Loki to realize you’re not wearing his jewelry. 

You’re lucky he realizes while in the middle of a team bonding activity, card games. 

“Darling, where’s your necklace?” Loki asks lightly as he watches Steve put down a reverse card so instead of being Clint’s turn it’s Tony’s. Clint responds by calling Steve a buttface causing Steve to laugh out of shock.

Your eyes flick over to Tony’s, whose eyes meet yours for a second before you’re both looking at the cards on the floor again. You don’t notice it but Loki definitely noticed the look you both shared but chooses to ignore it.

“I’m letting it soak, it needed to be cleaned and polished.” You easily slip the lie out of your lips. When you look at Loki you’re lucky he isn’t looking at you at first because he can usually read your lies. As he skims his eyes back over to you you let a soft smile slide over your lips to which the god answers with a tilt of his lips. 

When he looks away you swallow, Tony catching your eyes and raising his eyebrows. 

Tell him. Tony’s eyes flash.

Not right now! You push back through your eyes and a small shake of your head.

Tony rolls his eyes and that’s the end of that silent conversation. 

The subject isn’t brought up again until the fourth day. 

You know Loki has definitely caught on to the fact that you stay in Tony’s lab a lot recently but you’re thankful he doesn’t ask questions about it.

“Where are your rings?” Loki outright asks, grabbing your hand and rubbing over your fingers with his thumb, his face in a slight frown as he looks at your bare hands. He notes that you wear silver bangles instead of your usual gold.

You both are getting ready for a press release about Amora’s attack and usually you love to flash your jewelry to the public, as if yelling from the roof tops that Loki is yours when you’re adorned in his colors and gifts. 

“I, uh, lost them,” You mutter out, playing it up and acting ashamed with your flushed cheeks and pulling your hand from Loki’s to hug yourself. “I’m sorry, I’ll find them though.” You bite your lip looking at Loki’s face. The god smiles tenderly and brings his hand up to caress at your jaw. 

“It is fine. I will help you look for them when we have the time.” Loki tells you, his hand falling from your face to grab your hand and lead you from the room. 

You totally miss the disappointed frown that passes over Loki’s face as you pass the dresser in the room and he sees the rings laying there. 

By the sixth day Loki hasn’t said anything else about your missing jewelry. However, yesterday, a day after the press release, Loki had left your rings on your night stand without another word about them.

You can tell Loki is pulling from you, putting up walls that you had worked so hard to demolish. He seems more standoffish and irritated now if his scathing remarks to the team are a tell. You really should just tell him what’s going on but you’re stubborn. 

Today, you sit with Tony in the lab hoping he’ll find a way to make this stupid curse just disappear. While you could wear the gold it would leave you with a noticeable rash within a few hours and if worn long enough pockets of pus appear. If Loki noticed that he would start asking questions you can’t, or rather don’t want to, answer

“I think we need to tell him, I’m honestly lost,” Tony says swiveling in his chair to look at you. “Magic isn’t my forte, it’s Loki’s.” He explains as if you don’t know that. 

“Tony, Amora will never let me live this down. She will always belittle me for being weak and having to ask for help to figure this out.”

“Technically you’ve already asked for help...” Tony points out hesitantly. 

“This is different. She will call me dependent on Loki, like I wasn’t a threat before he came along and I’m his little damsel in distress,” You say letting out a frustrated growl and covering your face with your hands. “I don’t know how to explain what I mean, ok, I just can’t tell Loki.” 

“Uh...” Is all Tony says as you failed to notice someone else came into the lab. 

“Look, I love Loki but he can’t know.” You say with finality, letting your hands drop.

“Loki can’t know what, exactly?” Loki asks in a smooth but dangerously low tone.

You gasp, jumping a little in your spot on Tony’s work table. Your eyes are wide as saucers and you’re sure you can feel the blood from your face leave. 

Loki stands a few feet away with his arms crossed and a pissed look on his face. 

The room is incredibly silent, the tension able to be cut with a dull butter knife. You’re lucky Tony comes to save you. 

Tony sighs, brings a hand up to rub through his hair and looks at Loki with a grimace as if dreading to tell Loki a, false, secret.

Wow he was a great actor, shouldn’t be surprising considering he grew up under the paparazzi’s thumb but to see it in action? It’s shocking.

“She wants me to build her some armor. Says she feels inadequate next to all of us since she doesn’t have powers or anything cool other than pistols.” Tony, falsely, admits. 

Loki frowns at Tony before his eyes slide over to you looking to see if Tony speaks the truth. You quickly make yourself believe Tony’s lie, putting on your brave face as you look at the God of Lies in the eyes. 

You know you’ve succeeded because Loki drops his arms and walks over to you. Tony moves away to tinker with something else in his lab, giving you both space, and quickly flicking the holoscreen he had been looking at away before Loki gets a close look at it and it reveals your secret. 

Loki spreads your knees so he may stand between your legs and brings a hand up to grip your chin and make you look up at him. 

“You will never be inadequate. You deserve a spot on this team, powers or not. You are a formidable warrior and I’m honored to be able to fight by your side,” Loki tells you, his voice strong and confident, his eyes filled with love. “Why would you hide this from me?” He then whispers, his eyebrows stitched together in a hurt look.

You swallow the lump in your throat and consider telling Loki the truth as you look into his eyes and see how much he truly loves you. How much it hurts him to know you’ve been lying to his face.

“I-” 

Suddenly the tower’s klaxons are roaring to life and causing the moment to be broken. You, Loki, and Tony stand at attention. 

“Sir, Amora has breeched your defenses, she is fighting Mr. Rogers and Odinson on floor 84. I believe they have it handled though.” Jarvis supplies you all. 

You and Loki quickly make your way to the floor, Tony lagging behind to put on his suit. 

When you get there Steve and Thor have Amora bound with magic resistant cuffs as she kneels on the ground between them. When she sees you her eyes light up at the fact you are without any jewelry and gives a dark laugh. 

“You haven’t rid yourself of my curse? I figured Loki would break it within 24 hours. You’re losing your touch aren’t you, mage?” Amora says looking over to Loki with a perfectly coiffed eyebrow raised in question. 

Loki looks over to you with confusion on his face and you sigh. Of course the bitch had to ruin everything you’ve been avoiding. 

“Oh,” Amora says, her face slack with shock. Then it splits into an evil grin. “He doesn’t know?”

You glance at Loki who is looking between the two of you with avid interest. Steve and Thor look confused as well. Tony’s suit clanks over to Amora and slaps a magic resistant gag over her mouth, giving you a look that tells you you need to tell Loki everything, now.

Steve, Thor and Tony leave with Amora leaving you in the silent room with a very confused Loki.

“What does she speak of?” Loki finally asks when you refuse to give him anything as you stand there looking at the ground like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re cursed?” Loki asks, concern laced in his words causing you to feel worse.

You let a tear drop from your eye, blowing out a deep breath and looking at Loki. 

“She cursed me so I can’t wear gold without getting a bad rash and pus pockets.” You let the words tumble out of your lips, a small hiccup coming out of your mouth at the end of the sentence. 

Loki frowns at you, obviously wanting to comfort you but doesn’t reach for you yet. “That is why you haven’t been wearing my jewelry?” Loki asks for confirmation. 

You nod, bringing a hand up to wipe at your tears. 

You don’t expect it but Loki quickly envelops you into his arms in a crushing hug. One hand holding your head to his chest, the other rubbing over your back. His body relaxing into yours as if relieved.

“You’re not mad?” You ask the god shakily, your words hitting his chest as puffs of air from your mouth. You bring your arms up and hug Loki back.

“Darling, I thought you had grown tired of me, that you were slipping from my grasps, that you were going to ask to split any day now.” Loki says into your hair where he litters kisses. “I thought you had fallen for Tony.” Loki explains his own voice wavering a bit at the confession.

“What,” You say shocked, your arms squeezing Loki tighter at the realization of the hurt you put Loki through this past week, “No, never, Tony is my friend. I just didn’t want to have to be saved by you all the time. I don’t want to be your damsel in distress. I want us both to be dependent but also independent, that’s all.” You explain into Loki’s chest, your body now shaking with the emotions that overwhelm you. 

Loki lets out a relieved laugh, pulling away just enough so he may look down at you. “You will never be a damsel in distress, with need of my help or not. I told you, you are formidable on your own, a warrior with a brave spirit.” 

Suddenly you feel really stupid. Amora had gotten inside your head and screwed everything up. Loki was right, as he usually is. 

You let out a shaky laugh. “Can you please break this curse so I can wear your jewelry again? I miss it, a lot.” You ask of Loki who only smiles at you fondly and nods. 

“Of course, darling.” 

[redrobbingabank]

Syndicate Foster AU Chapter One

No one knew much about Philza Minecraft. Ranboo was pretty sure that that was because Philza Minecraft wanted it that way, and what Philza Minecraft wanted, he got. 

Not in a bad way. The man was a good one, an oxymoron in the world of rich people Ranboo saw on the news when he bothered to watch it. He didn’t come up often––that’s what happens when you choose not to be known––but Ranboo had yet to see him wrapped up in any sort of scandal.

The list of unknowns about Philza was long to anyone outside his circle, and for Ranboo, it had just gotten longer. As he sat in the chair outside the social worker’s office, purple backpack hugged close in his lap, he couldn’t get the question out of his mind: Why in the world would some billionaire choose to foster a teenager?

Fostering anyone was enough of a question. Fostering a sixteen year old, only two years away from ageing out, was downright baffling.

Ranboo picked at a hangnail. It didn’t matter how he turned it over in his head. It just didn’t make sense. The whole thing felt far too weird, and not nearly real enough.

He looked past his worn out sneakers to the hallway around him. The linoleum floor was peeling where it met the wall, and the wall’s paint wasn’t faring much better. Everything was the same shade of grey, like snow when it turned into slush. Through the confused haze filling his mind, Ranboo hoped Philza’s house had some sort of color.

The door opening next to him made Ranboo jump. His social worker stepped out first, followed by Philza. Ranboo shot to his feet, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Philza smiled at him. “You ready to go, mate?” He was shorter than Ranboo. Ranboo did not like being taller than Philza Minecraft.

He nodded silently. Philza had a manilla folder in his hand. Ranboo’s file, holding everything the system needed him to know about the kid he was fostering. Ranboo had never actually gone through it himself. He’d never had a reason to, but now, knowing someone else had seen it, he was curious. What did it say? Did it list his problems? If it did, was his insomnia one of them?

His social worker smiled at him. “You’re all set, Ranboo,” she said. “I hope you have a good experience.” The last part was quiet, meant for Ranboo alone. There was no reason to plant doubt in Philza’s head about his parenting skills.

Ranboo felt his throat closing up. He’d never been around Ms. Parks much, past the times she handled his movements between houses, but she was still the most constant figure in his life. “Thanks, Ms. Parks,” he said tightly. 

Philza gestured towards the elevator. Time to leave again, to go blindly to a new home with no idea how long it would last. Tightening his grip on the backpack’s strap, Ranboo led the way in and pressed the button for the ground floor. They were quiet on the way down, on the walk through the lobby, out the doors, and to the black limousine waiting out front. Philza gestured for Ranboo to get in first, then sat down across from him.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he asked, nodding at the backpack.

Ranboo, who’d become a little transfixed by the striped green bucket hat Philza hadn’t taken off since… ever, actuall, now that he thought about it, scrambled to answer. “I––uh––yeah.” He glanced down at the bag self-consciously. Was it not enough? Was he supposed to have more?

Philza didn’t look mad at him. He just smiled and said, “We’ll go get you some more stuff soon, then.” 

Ranboo froze. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, Mr. Minecraft, it’s fine, really. I don’t need anything else––”

Philza held up a hand, and Ranboo fell silent. “First, you can just call me Phil, mate. Second, I want to. We need to get you a uniform for school too, and a laptop, I bet.”

A laptop? A uniform? Ranboo was starting to wish they’d told him what being fostered by Philza Minecraft would involve. “I’m sorry… a school uniform? Why do I need a uniform?” Panic started climbing in his throat. He’d assumed that he’d just be going to the same school he’d attended for the past few years.

Apparently, Phil planned differently. “You’re going to go to Kinoko High School,” he explained. “It’s where Techno and Niki go to school. Speaking of, are you ready to meet them? Do you have any questions?”

Technoblade and Niki Nihachu, Phil’s two adopted children. No one knew where they’d come from. The two were unrelated, but shared the same shockingly pink hair and hatred for the media. Unfortunately for Ranboo, that hatred cut off his mental profile there. Everything else on the internet about the two was speculation and rumors. Actually… 

“Is it true that Niki punched a reporter once?” he asked tentatively.

He’d been worried Phil would get defensive. It wasn’t really his business, after all, what the Minecraft children did. But, much to his surprise, Phil laughed. “It is,” he said. “But the reporter had it coming. She’s really very nice when you get to know her, as long as you’re not a dick.”

Naturally, Ranboo immediately began going through everything he’d ever done to see if he’d committed some terrible atrocity that had slipped through the cracks in his memory. He was tempted to ask what exactly the reporter had done, just to compare it to his life, but decided to leave it alone for the day, and offered a weak chuckle of his own to match Phil’s.

“Techno’s a good kid too, of course,” Phil added. “Just… they’re both a bit quiet. They’ll probably give you plenty of space.”

“Oh.” Ranboo bobbed his head, hoping it would suffice as a reaction. It was actually a relief to hear that he wouldn’t be expected to integrate into the role of sibling immediately. The day was already making him tired, and the feeling only intensified as he looked ahead to his arrival at the house. House? He suddenly realized he didn’t know where Phil lived.

“Where are we driving?” he asked, looking out the window. It was all the same buildings he knew, rising above eye level into the sky. Secretly, he hoped for a house somewhere a little away from the city. A big backyard sounded cool. And a dog. A dog would be nice.

Alas, it wasn’t meant  to be. “Pog Tower,” Phil said. “We’ve got the penthouse at the top.” The route they’d been driving towards the center of the city suddenly made sense.

“Oh,” Ranboo said, and sank a little farther into the seat cushions. Not that he wasn’t grateful. It would be better than the monotones of the group home, at least. Maybe they had a cat, or a fish. It would be great.

His time to convince himself of that dwindled even faster as the limo pulled into the semicircle drive in front of the tower. Big plants lined the sidewalk and stairs, flowy green leaves going all the way to the big revolving glass doors. Ranboo had the sudden feeling that his stomach had dropped into hell and left the rest of him behind.

His legs felt like nerveless attachments as he got out of the car, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. Phil walked around the car and stopped next to him. He glanced at Ranboo. “Ready?”

Considering how much he felt like an ant right now, Ranboo was getting very scared of how much time he was going to spend at the top of this building. What if he fell out a window? How long would it take him to hit the ground and become a grease spot?

“Yeah,” he said, and cringed. His voice had gone up an octave.

Phil gave him a sympathetic look. “Let’s go, then,” he said kindly, and led the way inside.

The lobby was even nicer than the entrance. The floor was all marble tile, spanning what had to be at least half the bottom floor of the tower. A receptionist sat at a kiosk-desk-thing in the center of the room. It had a top made of smooth black glass. Behind her, an elevator with gold-looking doors taller than Ranboo was centered in the wall.

Phil walked past the receptionist with a smile and a nod, which she returned. On his way past, Ranboo tried to mimic the greeting, but it ended up as an awkward ducking of his head. The receptionist smiled anyway. She was paid to do that.

Just that small screw up made the trip to the elevator feel like an eternity. It was an astronomical relief when the doors shut, Phil leaning forward to insert a key into the slot beside the switchboard and press the button that would take them to the top floor. 

“You don’t need to talk to anyone if you don’t want to, when you’re coming in,” he told him when he straightened back up, slipping the key back into his suit pocket. 

“Oh. Cool.” In Ranboo’s head, he sighed loudly. It was probably just him, but he felt like living on the tower was going to take a lot more social interaction than he was used to.

The elevator ascended fast enough to give Ranboo the free-fall sensation of a roller coaster before slowing down and stopping with a pleasant ding!. Ranboo had time to exhale once more before the doors were sliding open, and he was greeted by a living room bigger than the cafeteria at the group home, currently occupied by two teenagers arguing over a binder on the glass coffee table. At the elevator’s chime, they abruptly cut off. The girl slammed the binder shut, and they both turned to face him.

Niki Nihachu and Technoblade looked as similar as they were different. Niki came up to Techno’s shoulder. She had on a black sweater and jeans, pink hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her build was that of a distance runner’s. Ranboo vaguely remembered some old photo posted of her at a track meet.

Technoblade had a pair of thin-framed glasses and grey sweats. His braided hair was long enough that when he’d spun around, it whipped over his shoulder. Dark bags hung under his eyes, though they were sharp and analytical as he looked at Ranboo. The crumpled Monster cans next to him offered an explanation.

No one spoke for an uncomfortable amount of time. Finally, Phil waved. “Hey guys, this is Ranboo.” Ranboo felt a piece of his soul shrivel up and die.

Techno and Niki looked at Phil. They looked at Ranboo, then looked at each other. Then, the two lifted their hands and gave him a perfectly synchronized wave. Were they sure they weren’t twins? “Hey, Ranboo,” Niki said.

“Um. Hi. Did you guys practice that?” Ranboo asked nervously, clutching the backpack’s strap tighter. 

“Yeah,” Techno said, grinning. Ranboo felt slightly less scared. “We thought it was funny.”

Ranboo bobbed his head wordlessly. What could he say? If he’d been watching and not scared out of his mind, he’d agree. 

“Guys, maybe avoid the pretending to be psychically connected for a few days,” Phil said.

“This happens often?” Ranboo squeaked.

Niki shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”

The pair hadn’t moved from in front of the coffee table, both in positions that prevented Ranboo from looking at the binder they’d been fighting over. He glanced between the two, but their faces betrayed nothing except for calm friendliness.

“Well,” Phil interrupted the silence, stepping to the side, “Your room is upstairs. I can show you where it is, and you can hang out up there or down here until dinner. It’s whatever you want, really.”

Thank god, an opportunity to hide. Ranboo almost led the way to the stairs, but stopped himself. “Sure,” he said. Then to Techno and Niki, “It was nice meeting you.” Was that okay to say to new siblings? It was probably stupid.

Niki grinned. It was a sharp expression on her face. “Nice to meet you too.” She and Techno watched Phil and Ranboo until they were at the top of the stairs, then turned back to the binder and started arguing again in whispers. Ranboo resisted the urge to glance back. 

At the top of the stairs, Phil led him down a short hallway and stopped at the second door on the left. “Since we weren’t sure what you like, we left it mostly plain,” he said. “We can decorate it and stuff soon, though.”

“I’m sure it’s great how it is,” Ranboo said.

“Nah, it’s boring. I want you to like it.” Phil stuck his hands in his pockets. “Anyway, we’ll be around. If you want to hang out or need anything, just come tell one of us. You can do whatever until dinner. I’ll send Techno up when it’s ready.”

“Awesome.” Ranboo gave him one last smile and waited in the center of the room until Phil left, closing the door behind him. He sighed. Dear god, that was exhausting. Maybe he’d actually be able to sleep tonight.

There wasn’t much to do on his own. Ranboo set his bag down on the dresser and tossed the sets of clothing inside without much care how they landed. Then, he launched himself onto the bed and just… kind of laid there.

He wasn’t even sure what to think about. The house? How big it was? How it actually seemed kind of like a home, and not some rich person’s museum-slash-autobiography? Whatever Niki and Techno were arguing about? They definitely didn’t want either Ranboo or Phil to know what it was.

Ranboo closed his eyes. Purple spots floated behind his eyelids. Sometimes, he liked to try to watch the patterns, but it usually ended with feeling like he was free falling through the void.

A knock on the door jolted Ranboo out of sleep. “Yeah? Uh, come in?” he called.

The door creaked open just enough for him to see one of Techno’s eyes. “Dinner,” he said.

“Oh. Awesome.” Had it really been that long? Ranboo wasn’t really hungry; he’d actually rather go back to sleep, or whatever had made the time pass like that, but he stood up anyway. “I’ll be down in a second.”

“Awesome.” Ranboo thought he saw Techno flash him a thumbs up, but then the guy was gone, muffled steps walking down the carpeted hallway to the stairs.

Ranboo stretched his arms over his head and groaned quietly. Dinner. He could do that. He could do that, and then he could go back to sleep and be done with people for the day. Slowly, he shuffled over to the door. Just eat dinner and sleep.

Phil made dinner. Ranboo wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t expecting that, but it was probably related to his general impression of rich people. He cringed a little at how clearly wrong he was, at least about this family. Especially because Phil had made mac and cheese.

It was freaking good mac and cheese too, he thought as he ate, carefully watching the others to make sure he wasn’t eating the wrong way. So far, he was doing well.

The four of them sat at a big table in the kitchen. Niki and Techno sat next to each other across from Ranboo, who was alone next to an empty chair. When he first saw it, he thought maybe it was Phil’s, but then Phil had taken the seat at the head of the table. Through the entire meal, Ranboo’s gaze was drawn to the chair and the question if someone was missing from their group. 

“So, Ranboo,” Niki said casually, like they’d been friends for a while and this wasn’t the first conversation she’d ever initiated with him. Ranboo looked up and put down his fork to make sure she knew he was listening. “You start school the day after tomorrow, right?”

Ranboo glanced at Phil for confirmation before nodding. “Yeah.” He was actually doing his best not to think about it. Everytime he did, his heart sped up unpleasantly and his knee started bouncing and a lot of thoughts he didn’t have space for crowded his mind. He was eternally grateful for Sunday tomorrow, giving him a bit of a reprieve before he was thrown into it.

“I thought we’d go shopping tomorrow.” Phil joined the conversation with such ease that Ranboo almost stared. “We need to get you your uniform and some supplies. I also thought a new backpack would be nice. But if you want to stick with the one you’ve got, that works, too,” he added quickly.

Ranboo thought of the seam starting to rip on one of the straps. “No, a new bag would be awesome.”

“Great. It’s settled. Techno, Niki, do you two want to come?”

The two shared a glance and nodded. 

“Alright. We’ll go to the mall at ten tomorrow, I think. Does that sound good, Ranboo?” Phil asked. Everyone was suddenly watching him. Ranboo nodded quickly, if only to make them stop.

“Did you get your schedule yet?” Techno asked, looking at his plate instead of Ranboo.

“No.” Was he supposed to have one?

“We’ll get it tomorrow with your other things,” Phil told him.

“Oh. Okay.”

When dinner was finished, Techno and Niki were the first to get up. “We have homework,” were their parting words, and then they were out the door with a surprising lack of sound. The silence held until their doors closed a few moments later.

Phil set down his fork and turned his attention to Ranboo. “I’m gonna head off too, mate. The office called, and they want me to head in for a few hours tonight. Unless you need me to stay?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Ranboo rushed out. Time alone would be good. He always found it easier to breathe when there were less people in the house.

“If you’re sure,” Phil said, standing. “Techno and Niki will help if you need anything, and my numbers are on the coffee table. You should probably put them in your phone anyway.”

Ranboo imagined the battered old model he had upstairs. The corner was bashed in from being dropped a few too many times, and the 5 button was fickle. He cringed a little at the thought of showing it to Phil.

“Will do,” was all he said. Then Phil, too, left, and Ranboo was alone in a kitchen in a new house with no real idea what he should do, except that he wanted to leave Niki and Techno alone.

With that in mind, he went to bed. Or, not exactly. He went to sit in bed with his legs crossed, hunched over his journal as he wrote everything that had happened that day down. It had been a long time since he’d lost a day, but that did nothing to remove the fear that at some point, he would.

A strange bang sometime later made Ranboo jump. He checked the digital clock on his nightstand: 1:15 am.

The noise reminded him of a window being shut, and for a brief moment, panic flashed through him like lightning. What if someone had broken in?

But that was impossible. They were at the top of freaking Pog Tower. Just to reassure himself, Ranboo got up and looked out his own window. The distance from himself to the ground made him close the curtains. Yep, no one would be scaling the building. He was fine. He was safe. 

Ranboo looked at the journal, still open on his bed. The moment when he’d gone from writing to staring blankly at the pages was a mystery. He sighed, closed the journal, and put it back in its place at the bottom of his backpack. He had to go shopping tomorrow… well, technically, today. Sleep would be a really great idea.

Not that saying it would make it happen. 

Nevertheless, Ranboo climbed into bed. This time, he got under the covers and made his eyes stay closed. The suggestions ran through his head: count, tell yourself a story, take deep breaths. None of it ever worked.

Sometimes, Ranboo really wished it did.