#IS IT SO BAD TO WANT MORE FRIENDS TO LOVE JUST AS MUCH!!!! & TO TRUST AS MUCH!!

[britcision]

I do also agree with OP, although I am gonna throw in a little reframing

TTRPGs and RPGs in general are games; they work based on chance and mechanics which tend not to change based on what would be narratively convenient, because the game doesn’t know what would be narratively convenient

(Notable exception: Abnimals, Travis McElroy’s game which explicitly includes a pool of My Time To Shine dice, which players can add to rolls they think are narratively important.

The dice still don’t care and will still dish you up all failures, but you do get to juice to improve your odds)

And what this means from a narrative perspective is that all the players and the GM need to be ready for big moments to go wrong. For the vital roll to fail, for the wrong character to get the last hit on a BBEG, for a dramatic and impassioned speech to fall flat

And that’s especially a challenge in a short campaign or series of oneshots, where you can’t necessarily just extend and expand the story until the Grand Finale is actually just a Big Character Moment

But it is still a big character moment

As the McElroy’s say… a failure is more interesting than a success

A failure adds free depth, free angst if you’re lucky!

Because… is anyone actually upset and unsatisfied if the story goes too well? If you succeed in a place where a failure might have been more exciting and dramatic?

The key is the kind of story the players (especially western players) are expecting to tell, and will find satisfying… because again, these are games

We go into them expecting or at least intending to win

This means various things for different games, you don’t play Call of Cthulhu for a happy feel good ending where everyone rolls off into the sunset, but you still want to win

It’s a lot more likely for people to feel it was a narratively satisfying story once they’ve gotten the end they wanted, even if some areas fell flat

And trust me, it’s something my players very much also struggle with; it feels bad when we fail something we wanted to succeed on. It feels worse if we built it up to be a big narrative moment… and it doesn’t work

But that is still a big narrative moment

If you’re going to play a game, where chance and mechanics decide the fate of all your dramatic moments, you need to be prepared to tell at least two stories:

- One where it all goes well

- One where it fails

(Maybe one more for a natural 20 equivalent and the stars quake at your passing)

It is hard to lean into failure, but when we do it… what would have been an unsatisfying ending is now just another twist. Free depth and character development, something to wallow in

And we know that those types of stories, even ones where everything goes wrong and the heroes lose, can be so very satisfying

Just look at the prevalence of whump and hurt-no-comfort on AO3

It’s normal and expected to feel bad and dissatisfied when the story doesn’t go the way you wanted it to, but it is your choice to leave that story as something unsatisfying and feeling bad about it

Every unexpected failure is another microwave to toss your blorbo in

Every moment that falls even a little flat is an opportunity for a genre-savvy quip, for a “well that just happened”, for someone to fall to their knees and scream and re-amp the tension

The key is in the player’s flexibility, not the game’s

Even if you are doing a short campaign… you can imply the rest. Let the story not be over, even if your time playing it is.

Let the beaten heroes be ground underfoot, crawl away from the dungeon, have to work and suffer but grit their teeth and know… so long as they’re alive, they can try again

They can have their revenge

(And then you can run the campaign again later, maybe with the same characters a level or two higher than you started last time, and thrive on the new dark and bitter story)

Or let your past characters be an inspiration, either for friends and loved ones who come to avenge them, or to the new heroes who heard their story and heard they failed, but that’s no reason not to try

Prev is also so right about a lot of modern dnd basically expecting the DM to tell a mildly interactive story live to passive players; it’s definitely one a lot of my players came in with, and it’s part of the problem

To tell a narratively satisfying story, you cannot just passively go along and expect the dice rolls to conform to your narrative

You need to actively engage, embrace the rolls as crossroads in the path of destiny, and be prepared to build the narrative no matter which path you take

You don’t go in expecting the right results at the right time to make a satisfying story; you go in knowing where the key moments will be, and what will happen if you succeed or fail

I have told my players several times, and I’ll tell y’all until I die:

I as the DM am not telling the story

I the DM have made the world, the NPCs, the background and setting of events

You the players are telling the stories of your characters, in that setting

There is an overarching plot that the party as a whole will also be telling the story of together… but not only are the players the ones who pick the theme music, you’re the ones who chose the main characters

There’s a reason a prefab campaign will be different for every group that plays it, even with the same GM

Even if you have no idea what’s coming next in the main storyline, you need to know what is coming next for your character

How you want them to grow, what you want them to learn - and then any unfortunate rolls aren’t a let down or a problem, it’s an opportunity.

Sakura has to learn something important about herself and others before she can ever collect a card - which means something usually goes wrong

She tries and fails, and then looks at that failure and learns from it and grows as a person, and that’s what makes the narrative satisfying

Sticking your feet in and sulking if the game mechanics don’t follow the narrative you want will make an unsatisfying story no matter what game you play

Gleefully and enthusiastically stuffing your blorbo into the blender of fate, hitting Purée, and turning every stumble off the narrative path into its own adventure will give you a much deeper, more compelling, more complete story than you might have expected…

But that’s the fun part

The truest mechanism of an RPG or TTRPG has nothing to do what is written into the rules of the game

It’s your own skill at improv, and if you’ve ever been even remotely stage shy, avoided drama class, or thought improv was hard, let me reassure you:

Improv comedy is not the only improv. You don’t have to be funny

And it’s a lot easier than you might think

So long as you know your character, actually really know them beyond the backstory you created… so long as you take the time to think “well what do they do when things go wrong? What would they give to get what they want? What would it take to force them to do the things they’d never do?”

You can bullshit through basically any situation

Because there’s no rule against playing ahead in your mind

Daydream your character into any situation you think might come up, write the fanfiction version of the perfect narrative in your head, and then do the tragic version. Do the slapstick version. The gritty noire version

Because the greatest secret of improv and playing your own character is that you will never be wrong

Only you define success or failure

So long as you know and understand your characters and can be flexible with the mechanics and the story, you can always build a satisfying narrative

This is a lot more work than just being reactive and expecting the GM to tell a story for you, and just rolling dice and “hit big monster” when prompted

That’s what makes the story actually satisfying though; taking ownership of it yourself

The game belongs to the designers

The story belongs to the players, GM and PC alike

There's this idea floating around the general TTRPG space that's kind of hard to put one's finger on which I think is best articulated as "the purpose of an RPG is to produce a conventionally shaped satisfying narrative," and in this context I mean RPG as not just the game as it exists in the book but the act of play itself.

And this isn't exactly a new thing: since time immemorial people have tried to force TTRPGs to produce traditional narratives for them, often to be disappointed. I also feel this was behind a lot of the discussion that emerged from the Forge and that informed the first "narrativist" RPGs (I'm only using the word here as a shorthand: I don't think the GNS taxonomy is very useful as more than a shibboleth): that at least for some TTRPGs the creation of a story was the primary goal (heck, some of them even called themselves Storytelling games), but since those games when played as written actually ended up resisting narrative convention they were on some level dysfunctional for that purpose.

There's some truth to this but also a lot of nuance: when you get down to the roots of the hobby, the purpose of a game of D&D wasn't the production of a narrative. It was to imagine a guy and put that guy in situations, as primarily a game that challenged the player. The production of a narrative was secondary and entirely emergent.

But in the eighties you basically get the first generation of players without the background from wargames, whose impressions of RPGs aren't colored by the assumption that "it's kind of like a wargame but you only control one guy." And you start getting lots of RPGs, some of which specifically try to model specific types of stories. But because the medium is still new the tools used to achieve those stories are sometimes inelegant (even though people see the potential for telling lots of stories using the medium, they are still largely letting their designs be informed by the "wargame where you only control one guy" types of game) and players and designers alike start to realize that these systems need a bit of help to nudge the games in the direction of a satisfying narrative. Games start having lots of advice not only from the point of view of the administrative point of view of refereeing a game, but also from the point of view of treating the GM as a storyteller whose purpose is to sometimes give the rules a bit of a nudge to make the story go a certain way. What you ultimately get is Vampire: the Masquerade, which while a paradigm shift for its time is still ultimately a D&D ass game that wants to be used for the sake of telling a conventional narrative, so you get a lot of explicit advice to ignore the systems when they don't produce a satisfying story.

Anyway, the point is that in some games the production of a satisfying narrative isn't a primary design goal even when the game itself tries to portray itself as such.

But what you also get is this idea that since the production of a satisfying narrative is seen as the goal of these games (even though it isn't necessarily so), if a game (as in the act of play) doesn't produce a satisfying narrative, then the game itself must be somehow dysfunctional.

A lot of people are willing to blame this on players: the GM isn't doing enough work, a good GM can tell a good story with any system, your players aren't engaging with the game properly, your players are bad if they don't see the point in telling a greater story. When the real culprit might actually be the game system itself, or rather a misalignment between the group's desired fiction and the type of fiction that the game produces. And when players end up misidentifying what is actually an issue their group has with the system as a player issue, you end up with unhappy players fighting against the type of narrative the game itself wants to tell.

I don't think an RPG is dysfunctional even if it doesn't produce a conventionally shaped, satisfying narrative, because while I do think the act of play inevitably ends up creating an emergent narrative, that emergent narrative conforming to conventions of storytelling isn't always the primary goal of play. Conversely, a game whose systems have been built to facilitate the production of a narrative that conforms to conventions of storytelling or emulates some genre well is also hella good. But regardless, there's a lot to be said for playing games the way the games themselves present themselves as.

Your traditional challenge-based dungeon game might not produce a conventionally satisfying narrative and that's okay and it's not your or any of your players' fault. The production of a conventionally satisfying narrative as an emergent function of play was never a design goal when that challenge-based dungeon game was being made.

[aingeal98]

Listen when stephcass do kiss in canon I think it should be sweet and romantic and healing BUT I also think a first kiss that happens because they're messy and have complicated feelings that never fully got resolved is so fun. Steph on patrol with Bruce and he starts hinting that she and Cass are awfully close these days and Steph's like ??? I'm not sleeping with your daughter Bruce. Yes we sleep in the same bed a lot but like. Platonically. And Bruce looks highly uncomfortable but drops it.

But then the mission goes bad and Bruce is an asshole and Steph goes home with all the raw lingering resentment from years of tension between the two of them renewed and she sees Cass and is like. You know what maybe I should kiss her. Fuck you Batman maybe I Am that bad influence you've been saying I was all along.

And so she asks Cass to kiss her and Cass, who's been in love for a long time now is like. What. And Steph's like look Bruce pissed me off I don't have a boyfriend I need some comfort trust me this is just a girl best friend thing.

And so they kiss and neither of them feel good about it at all and Steph is like fuck sorry I shouldn't be using you just to deal with Bruce, you mean more to me than him anyways. And Cass, who's been fantasising about the first kiss for a while is like oh no it's fine. Totally fine. I'm not going to cry myself to sleep because our first kiss was due to you being mad at my dad and I can't even tell how much it mattered to you. This is fine.

Not saying I want this to happen in canon but if someone wants to write a 20k+ multichapter fic where Cass pines and pretends she's not hurt and Steph is in denial about being bi and they both make things so much worse and regress to being a little bit awful to each other before they finally get their shit together, I would like that very much.

[raysrambles]

on the day the election results got announced, one of my friends wasn't at school. she was the friend that I had the most classes with, and I remember as the hours ticked by the painful knowledge that she wasn't sick, not physically, but that she just couldn't bear to be there that day.

i overheard classmates talking. "how are you?" asked one; in a broken voice, another: "I don't know".

"I'm scared," was the most common sentence I heard that day. "i can't live like this," said someone in the hallway; "we've still got each other," said another in what I desperately wanted to believe was hope.

"I prayed last night for the first time since I was five," said a friend of a friend; I looked out the classroom window at the cloudy sky and wondered if there was a god, and if he had heard them.

I watched people break down crying in the middle of class. by the end of the day, several kids had left school early.

"I need to get out of here," I said to my friends at lunch. "we're not going to make it another four years," said one of them grimly. how dystopian, how orwellian was it that a group of seventeen year olds were so casually discussing their escape from the country they had grown up in, the country that had raised them only to throw them to the dirt before they were even able to vote?

after school i drove to another school for a debate tournament. one of the judges who I hadn't seen in a year and with whom I'd only had one or two conversations came up to me and asked "how are you doing?"

"could be better," I admitted, "but I'm surviving." that was a bit of an understatement; there were tears in my eyes even as I spoke.

"I'm here," she told me, this woman who I hardly knew, and I realized that she was asking because she remembered one of our only interactions, a year ago, where I had casually mentioned being trans--

--and her gaze flitted down to my shoes, where back then I had had beads in the colors of the trans flag, beads that weren't there anymore, not because of any change in myself but that of the world around me.

"I'm here," she said again, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. I managed a "thanks", not trusting myself to say anything else.

that night I went onto Instagram. someone I hadn't spoken to since we fell out over a year ago had texted me a simple "I love you and am with you" type of message. all of my friends and even people I hardly knew were posting about the election, and I remembered

back when Biden was elected, the Republicans I saw online reacted with hatred, disgust, doubt for his abilities

but now all I saw from the ones who had lost this battle was fear

when the other side lost, they had the privilege of hatred

now that we've lost, all we can do is fear.

terrified sixteen, seventeen, eighteen year olds, in flurries of messages to long-gone friends and frantic posts. I had never felt more united, and yet I could not relish in our closeness because I knew it was not the closeness of friends but the closeness of soldiers too young for war, huddling close as their imminent death rained down from the sky, searching for some last comfort at the end of their too-short stories.

"I won't pretend this isn't as bad as it is," I typed out, "honestly I'm freaking scared. But we owe it to ourselves not to let this be the end of our beliefs.

"We still know we're right, even if the government doesn't agree. We're still all in this together.

"Love to everyone who's affected by this. I'm right here with you. Stay safe everyone."

I posted the Instagram story, praying to a god I didn't know that the words were true.

the next night when the house and senate election results came in, I cried, and it was not pretty crying, it was a child wracked with sobs in the dark on the floor of their room because they were only seventeen and terrified for their future.

I spent a long time writing that night, something I do to process my thoughts when everything is too much. I will simply offer this passage, which I think speaks for itself.

"Shall I tell them I am afraid because of the election? Shall I tell them that all day I have felt like a child masquerading as a man, scared of the boogeyman as i am scared of the fascist-like creature whose grasp is tightening and whose claws never cease, closing in on lives like a predator its prey? That I am a child scared of insignificance, of a fate I did not choose, of becoming a meaningless name among many, not of democracy falling but of not being the one who felled it?"

So to everyone celebrating the election, I'm glad that you're happy, truly I am. But I ask you to think of me and my friends, still children, most of us not quite old enough to even have our say in this country, as you laugh and rejoice and mock all of us who you defeated.

How many times must we cry, must we fall, must we watch each other die before enough will be enough?

Will it ever be enough?

[redroomreflections]

At The End of The Night

Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

The Loud House Universe

Warnings: Smut Inside - Minors DNI (18+)

Note: I hope y'all enjoy

Summary: Wanda has always been a third in Reader and Nat's relationship. Why not take it to the next level?

W/c: 5k

It felt strange, in a good way, for the house to be this quiet. You were seated on the couch, sandwiched between Wanda and Natasha, as the soft TV light bathed the room in dim, darting light. Cara was away at a sleepover with friends, leaving you and Natasha with the rare opportunity for a quiet night. Of course, inviting Wanda over for a movie night was a given.

People always joked that Wanda was the third in your marriage, and while that was only half true, the three of you shared a bond unlike any other. When Wanda joined the team, you were the first person to make her feel welcome, and she was someone who quickly found her place in your lives. You and Wanda immediately hit it off, bonding over a few common interests and quickly building a friendship that became as easy as family. Wanda was a person you trusted with pretty much everything. She's someone you both cared about deeply.

Now, nestled together under a heavy blanket, Wanda gave an exaggerated sigh as she leaned her head against the pillows. “I’m just saying, if he wanted her back, he could have tried a little harder than just showing up at her work with a bouquet,” she scoffed, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Natasha smirked on your other side. “It’s a rom-com. If it made sense, it wouldn’t be half as entertaining,” she said, sipping her wine. She draped an arm casually over the back of the couch, stroking the back of your neck with the tip of her fingers.

You sighed softly at the sensation, the wine, and the heat of their bodies, making you feel content and comfortable. Wanda shifted, and her thigh pressed against yours. The movie was coming to an end, and you were buzzed. It was a good feeling.

"I need more wine," You announced.

"Oh no, you don't," Natasha gripped your glass out of arms' reach. "You get too frisky when you're drunk."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," You scoffed.

"It is when we have guests," Natasha gestured to Wanda. "You've been rubbing my leg this entire movie."

You hadn't even noticed. "Sorry, Wands," You apologized.

"No, I'm used to it," Wanda waved her hand, dismissing your concerns.

"Used to it?" You frowned.

Wanda nodded. "You're not subtle. You always do the same things when you're drunk, which isn't often. You guys are very touchy-feely." She teased, laughing a little as she looked between you and Natasha. "Not that it's a bad thing."

"Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable," Natasha apologized.

"It's fine," Wanda promised. "It's a nice change, actually. Everyone is so formal, and everyone always wants something from me. You guys are the only ones who make me feel... Normal. It's nice."

"We'll always be here for you," You smiled. "You're sweet."

She smiled back at you.

“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with us. And if you ever feel uncomfortable, just say the word.” You told her.

Wanda smiled, glancing down. “You guys are the best,” she said, looking up with a hint of bashfulness. “I guess I’ve always wondered what that would feel like—to have someone you could just be yourself around all the time.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Natasha before gently nudging Wanda with your shoulder. “It’ll happen for you, too, you know. Some lucky person out there will love you for exactly who you are.”

Wanda chuckled, her cheeks turning a little pink. “You both make it look so easy, though. How do you even start with all of this… relationship stuff?”

"Have you not been in one?" Natasha raised a brow.

"No, not really. There was a guy back home, but he was a jerk. And I was so busy, and then there was Ultron and Sokovia, and..." Wanda trailed off, shaking her head. "It's always seemed like a luxury."

"It's not. It's an incredible experience." You said, smiling to yourself as you glanced at your wife.

"And the sex is a bonus," Natasha grinned.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."

"What?" You frowned, a little confused. "Are you a virgin?"

"No, no," Wanda shook her head. "I've slept with a man before, but..."

"But what?" Natasha frowned.

"I've never slept with a woman," Wanda explained.

"Would you like to?" You tilted your head.

"With whom?" Wanda's eyes widened.

"Well, not necessarily now," You shook your head. You licked your lips and thought it over. "But we could help you practice if you'd like."

"Practice?"

"Sure," Natasha nodded. "There's no reason for you to have a bad first time."

"I'm not asking for a pity-fuck," Wanda rolled her eyes. She sighed. "I should probably get home."

"Or you could stay?" You suggested, looking over to Natasha for backup. "If you want."

Natasha nodded in agreement. "It's a big bed, and you could have the spare room if you'd rather have privacy. But, no pressure."

"Yeah," You agreed. "It doesn't have to be anything weird. I mean, not unless you want it to be."

Wanda stared at you both briefly, her brow creasing a little. "So, what, I'll come to sleep with you guys, and you'll make me feel good?"

"If that's what you want, yes," You nodded. "And if not, we'll still be here for you."

"Why?"

"Because we're your friends and care about you," Natasha shrugged. "We're offering because we'd like to, but if you're not interested, that's fine, too."

Wanda looked at the both of you for a moment, a little taken aback. You felt a little guilty. You hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable.

"What would we do?" She finally asked.

"Whatever you'd like. Whatever makes you feel good," Natasha assured her.

"I'm sorry," Wanda shook her head. She brushed a hand over her face to collect her thoughts. "Maybe I've had too much to drink. Are you guys being serious?"

"Yes," You nodded.

"Okay, hold on. Let me process," Wanda put up her hands.

You and Natasha exchanged another glance, not wanting to make the younger woman feel awkward.

"I'm going to grab more wine," Natasha announced, standing up. "Be right back."

"You can ask questions," You said, reaching over and squeezing her hand.

"I-I'm not sure what to ask," She admitted.

"How do you feel about it?"

"A little embarrassed," Wanda chuckled nervously. "But also a little curious."

"What's embarrassing about it?"

"It's not something that's normally talked about, is it? People don't go around bragging about how much they want to fuck their friends." She explained, dropping her hands to her lap. "You two are generous for the offer, but I don't want to be someone intruding on your marriage."

"It's only intruding if we say no and you push," You reminded her. "Which is the same for you. If you say no, we won't push."

There was a long pause from her. She hadn't said no yet.

Wanda sighed softly, running a hand through her hair. "I'm afraid I won't be good. What if I fumble, or what if it's awkward and..."

"Then we'll have a laugh and call it a day. I promise." You reassured her.

Wanda bit her lip, and you watched her eyes dart from the door to you and back to the door. Finally, she turned to look at you again.

"What would you want to do with me?" She asked, her voice a little softer. Instead of telling her, you decided to show her. You scooted closer to her on the couch, raising your hands to her face before leaning in to press your lips against hers. Her lips were soft, and her skin was warm. She melted into the kiss, her shoulders relaxing as she brought a hand up to touch your face. You pulled away for a moment, gauging her reaction. Her lips were slightly parted, and her cheeks flushed, but she said nothing.

"Come here," You whispered. This kiss was more sensual. Mainly for her benefit and partly because you'd wanted to taste her for a while. You sucked on her bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from the young woman.

"I can see why you're a married woman," Wanda whispered.

"I've got some moves," You smirked.

"So do I," Wanda replied, suddenly pulling you back in. Her lips were hungry and insistent, and her tongue flicked against yours, drawing another soft moan from the depths of your throat.

"I leave for two minutes," Natasha sighed. She had three filled wine glasses balancing in her hands. "I take it you're up for the offer."

"I'm still considering," Wanda replied, though her eyes were glued to your lips. "We should discuss this over wine."

Natasha grinned. "Good plan. Here's your glass." She handed Wanda the red wine before sitting next to you. She reached for the remote, flicked the TV off, and plunged the room into semi-darkness. Only the soft glow from the kitchen light illuminated the living room.

Wanda gulped down her glass of wine as you looked at her amusedly. When her glass was empty, she softly set it on the table. "Are you guys in an open marriage?"

"No," Natasha answered. "Not open. We just like you."

"I'm not a homewrecker," Wanda insisted.

"It's not a wreck if we want to share," You said.

Wanda took a deep breath, looking between you and Natasha. She chewed on her bottom lip as she contemplated your proposition. You could tell she was nervous but also intrigued.

"If it's too much, we can stop whenever you want," Natasha reminded her.

"Can I kiss you?" Wanda asked her.

"I'd be upset if you didn't."

Wanda's lips crashed against Natasha's. Their lips locked, their tongues meeting as the two women explored each other. The sight was breathtaking, and you could feel the arousal growing within you.

You took a long sip of your wine, watching them. There were key differences in how you kissed and Natasha kissed. Natasha was more hands-on with her kissing, opting to feel whatever part of your body she could get her hands on. You could see them twitch in her lap out of the corner of your eye. Her kisses were confident and sensual. They left no doubt in your mind about what her intentions were.

Wanda's hands rested against your thighs, occasionally gripping them. She was less intense and more curious. Her kisses were tentative, exploring the other woman's mouth slowly and deliberately. She clearly felt for Natasha, and you wondered if the redhead knew. It was a dangerous line to cross, but you were not giving up this opportunity.

You couldn't help but wonder if this was how Natasha felt the first time the two of you had sex. Seeing the two of them together was thrilling and a little surreal.

Natasha was the one to break the kiss. She pulled away with a sigh, licking her lips as she looked over at you.

"You've got good taste," She smirked.

"So do you," You winked.

"How far do we want to take this?" Natasha asked, looking over at Wanda. "The ball is in your court."

"I have some ideas," Wanda blushed. "But I'm a little afraid."

"Do you want to be the one getting fucked?" You asked.

"Yes," Wanda nodded.

"Do you want to fuck Natasha, or do you want her to fuck you?"

"I-I... I want you to fuck me," Wanda said.

"That can be arranged," You winked.

"And do you want me to watch, or do you want me to join?" Natasha asked, her fingers dancing along Wanda's arm.

"Whatever you'd like," Wanda said softly.

"We have plans for you yet," You rested a hand on the small of her waist. "I hope this is okay."

"This is great," Wanda said, leaning back as you kissed her neck. "Just different. I'm not used to being treated this way."

"Well, you deserve it," Natasha purred. "And so does my wife. She likes it a little rough. How do you like it?"

"I'm not sure," Wanda admitted. "I've only had sex a couple of times, and it wasn't amazing."

"Oh, honey," Natasha cooed. "We'll take good care of you. That's a promise."

"Okay," Wanda breathed.

"Come here," You grabbed her by the waist, pulling her over onto your lap. You kissed her gently, trying to soothe her. You didn't want her to feel uncomfortable or pressured; the last thing you wanted was for her to feel like an intruder.

Wanda moaned into your mouth as your tongue found hers, the tension in her shoulders gradually melting away. Your fingers crept under the hem of her shirt, gently rubbing the soft skin of her lower back.

"Do you want to take this to the bedroom?" Natasha asked.

"Yes," Wanda nodded, breaking the kiss and climbing off your lap. Natasha took her hand, leading her to the bedroom as you trailed. The room was dark and cool. She set Wanda up on the edge of the bed.

"I want to see you two kiss," She blushed.

"Oh, does that turn you on?"

"It always has," She nodded.

Natasha smirked. "Then we should oblige." She turned and kissed you, her hands cupping your face. Her lips were soft, and the taste of wine lingered on her tongue.

"Mm," Wanda hummed.

You'd wanted Natasha's hands on your body all night. She sucked on your tongue, drawing a soft moan from the depths of your throat.

"Fuck, that's hot," Wanda whimpered.

You smiled into the kiss, feeling Natasha's lips pull up at the corners. You broke the kiss and pulled her close, your bodies pressing against each other.

"Your turn," You said, gesturing towards Wanda. "Go easy on her."

"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," Natasha replied, her green eyes sparkling.

"Are you gonna strip, or are you waiting for me to do it?" Wanda teased.

Natasha laughed, walking over to the young woman and sitting beside her. She placed a hand on her thigh and leaned in, kissing her. This time, there was no hesitation.

Natasha kissed her hungrily, her fingers tracing circles against her bare skin. Wanda moaned softly, her body shivering. She broke the kiss, looking up at Natasha through thick lashes.

"Are you alright?" Natasha asked.

"More than," Wanda nodded.

"Can I touch you?"

"Please."

Natasha's hand trailed up her thigh and slipped underneath her shirt. Her hand found the soft cup of her bra as she used her thumb to tease Wanda's nipple through the material. To Wanda, it was perfect foreplay, but you knew better. Natasha was gauging Wanda's sensitivity. She did not disappoint.

"Mmm," Wanda sighed, her back arching slightly to get more feeling. "Fuck, that feels good."

"Does it?" Natasha smirked, continuing to rub the fabric. Wanda's nipple was hardening and beginning to peek out.

"Yes," Wanda whimpered.

"You want more?"

"Please."

Natasha's fingers slipped beneath her bra, her fingertips brushing against the soft, sensitive skin. Wanda moaned, her body jerking a little.

"Fuck, that's so good," Wanda whined.

"You like having your nipples played with, don't you?" Natasha purred.

"Y-yes," Wanda breathed.

Natasha smirked. "Good to know."

She kissed her again, her lips hungry and demanding. Wanda melted into the kiss, her body sinking into the mattress. You used that moment of distraction to begin unbuttoning Wanda's jeans. Your fingers made quick work of the buttons and zipper.

"Lift up for me, baby," You requested.

Wanda raised her hips, letting you slide the denim down her legs. You tossed them to the side, leaving her in her panties and her bra.

Natasha finally broke the kiss, and Wanda gasped for air. "You're so beautiful," Natasha murmured, eyes scanning the younger woman's body. "And you taste so sweet."

Wanda blushed. "Thank you," She said shyly.

"My turn," You grinned, kneeling between her thighs.

"Your wife has good ideas," Wanda hummed.

You spread Wanda's legs for her, noting the wet patch on the front of her underwear. Your mouth watered at the sight.

"You've been wanting this for a while," You mused as you approached her. You used your knuckle to brush against the wet spot finding her clit with ease.

"Shit," Wanda gasped.

You smirked at the reaction.

"I'd ask you what you were thinking, but I think it's fairly obvious." You teased, rubbing slow, firm circles around her clit.

Wanda moaned, her body writhing beneath you. "F-fuck."

"Don't make her come so fast," Natasha warned as she pinched Wanda's nipples between her fingers.

"Sorry, babe," You smirked, pulling your hand away.

Wanda let out a soft whimper at the sudden loss of contact.

"We can't have that," Natasha purred. She moved her hands from Wanda's chest and slid her fingers underneath the waistband of her underwear. "Lift up for me, pretty girl."

Wanda obeyed, raising her hips once again. Natasha hooked her fingers around the fabric and tugged them down. She tossed them over her shoulder, her green eyes raking over Wanda's exposed skin.

"Fuck," Natasha muttered.

"What is it?" Wanda asked.

"You're just so... fucking gorgeous,"

"I didn't shave," Wanda apologized. "I didn't exactly plan for this."

"Doesn't matter," You shook your head. "Natasha, hold her." You raised your chin. Natasha immediately knew what you were asking of her. She moved across the bed and leaned back against the pillows and headboard. She patted the spot between her legs for Wanda to come and sit. Wanda leaned back against Natahsa's front.

You grabbed Wanda's thighs, pulling her down the bed and spreading her legs, her glistening pussy on display for you. You didn't hesitate to lean in and lap up her slit. Her taste exploded on your tongue, the sweet taste of her arousal coating your tastebuds.

"Fuuuuck," Wanda groaned.

"You're doing so good," Natasha murmured, her hands massaging Wanda's tits and belly.

You continued to lick her, her taste and scent surrounding you. You moaned softly, loving the way she writhed beneath you.

"Y-you're really good at that," Wanda panted, her body jerking and trembling. "MMM," She moaned softly.

You could feel her pussy getting wetter and wetter with each flick of your tongue.

"She's very skilled," Natasha chuckled.

"Oh, fuck," Wanda moaned, her head falling back. "Please."

You hummed softly, the vibration adding to her pleasure.

"Oh, please, oh," Wanda whimpered.

"She's really sensitive," Natasha mused. "Do you like that?" She asked.

"Y-yes, it feels amazing," Wanda stammered.

You smirked, swirling your tongue around her clit. Her thighs trembled in response, and you knew she was close.

"You don't know how long we've been wanting you," Natasha murmured into her ear. She nuzzled her neck with her nose.

"R-really?"

"You're gorgeous," Natasha murmured, her voice soft. "Of course."

"So are you," Wanda breathed.

"We could've done this so long ago," Natasha said, kissing her cheek.

Wanda didn't answer, and you weren't sure if she was even listening. Your tongue was buried deep in her pussy, and her legs were quivering. Natasha's hands moved to her thighs, forcing her to keep her legs open as you sucked her clit into your mouth.

"OH, oh, I'm going to..." She trailed off, her orgasm hitting her. Her body tensed, her legs trembling. You didn't stop, your tongue flicking over her sensitive nub.

"Mm," Natasha hummed.

Wanda's entire body tensed, and her back arched off the bed. You kept your tongue on her, tasting her orgasm as it flowed out of her.

"Shit," She panted.

"How was that?" You asked, finally pulling away.

"Good," She replied. "Amazing."

"We're not finished yet," Natasha said. "We're just getting started."

"You've been a really good girl," You smiled.

"Yeah?" Wanda asked, still trying to catch her breath.

"Yes," You nodded. "We've been talking about this for a while."

"You have?"

"Yes," Natasha smiled. "And now, you're all ours."

"Yes," Wanda nodded. She reached for you, pulling you to her and tasting herself on your tongue.

"I think she likes it," Natasha smirked.

"Yeah," You nodded.

"Can I touch you?"

"Sure," You shrugged. "Where do you want to touch me?"

"Everywhere," Wanda admitted. "Will you show me how to pleasure her?" She leaned her head onto Natasha's shoulder to see her eyes. The two of you shared a smirk. Wanda assumed that Natasha usually took a more dominant role in the bedroom. If only she'd seen you a couple nights ago, with Natasha begging you to fuck her as you made her come for the second time.

"Start with her neck," Natasha instructed. "And her ears. Those are two of her most sensitive areas."

Wanda followed her instructions. Her lips pressed against your neck, and her teeth grazed your earlobe.

"Mmm," You hummed, tilting your head to the side.

"That's good," Natasha praised.

"Do you want my shirt off?"

"Yes," Wanda nodded.

You reached down, pulling the shirt over your head. The cold air hit your bare skin, causing your arms and chest goosebumps.

"Now her nipples," Natasha murmured, watching Wanda closely.

Wanda nodded, her fingers finding your nipple and pinching it.

"Ooh," You gasped.

"She's more sensitive there than I am," Natasha explained.

"Not true," You moaned.

"Oh, hush," She smirked.

"Keep doing that," You urged as Wanda wrapped her lips around your nipple. You straddled her lap, effectively pinning her to Natasha as you looked into your wife's eyes.

"Look at her," Natasha smirked. "So pretty."

Wanda looked up at you, her lips still wrapped around your nipple. You cupped her cheek, smiling at her.

"Such a good girl," Natasha praised.

Wanda's eyes fluttered closed at the praise, her body melting into yours.

"She's perfect," Natasha murmured, her voice low.

"Mhmm," You agreed, running a hand through Wanda's hair.

Wanda's hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of your skin. She was so curious, so eager, and it made you smile.

"You're so sexy," Wanda said softly when her lips released your nipple with a pop. "Both of you."

"And so are you," Natasha cooed.

"You've got great boobs," Wanda hummed.

"Why thank you," You grinned.

"Do you mind if I kiss her again?"

"Go right ahead," Natasha replied.

Wanda pressed her lips against yours, her hands roaming your back.

"Do you want to touch her more?" Natasha asked.

"I think so," Wanda nodded. "But I don't know where to start."

"Just explore," Natasha replied.

Wanda's hands explored your body, her fingers tracing patterns along your skin.

"That's so good," You breathed.

"She's so responsive," Wanda smiled.

"Yeah, she is," Natasha agreed.

Wanda's fingers trailed down your stomach, her hand slipping into your pants. Her fingers found your pussy, sliding along the wetness.

"Oh, god," You moaned, your hips bucking forward.

"Does that feel good?" Wanda asked.

"Yes," You moaned.

Wanda's fingers moved up and down, sliding easily along your pussy. This was her first time touching another woman. She wanted to see and feel everything.

"Fuck," You breathed, your hips bucking.

"So wet," Wanda purred.

"Yeah, that's what happens when someone has you as a lover," Natasha said, her voice dripping with lust.

"Right there," You sighed as Wanda's fingers clumsily found your clit.

"Here?"

"Y-yeah," You moaned.

Wanda's fingers worked your clit, her pace quickening.

"Mm," Natasha hummed.

"F-fuck," You whimpered, your hips jerking.

"Good girl," Natasha purred.

Wanda continued her ministrations, her fingers rubbing your clit.

"O-oh," You moaned.

"That's it," Natasha encouraged.

Your thighs began to tremble, your orgasm building.

"C-close," You stammered.

"Come for her," Natasha said.

"Fuck, yes," Wanda growled.

"OH," You moaned, your body tensing as your orgasm washed over you. Wanda's fingers continued to work, her pace unrelenting.

"Fuck," You breathed, your hips grinding against her.

"That's a good girl," Natasha said softly.

"Damn," Wanda smiled.

"That was really good," You said, taking a moment to breathe.

"It was," Wanda nodded. She helped you pull the sticky underwear and sweatpants from your body.

"How much can you take?" You asked Wanda.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want Natasha to fuck you? Or do you want me to fuck you?"

"I don't know," Wanda admitted. "You choose."

"Hmm," You chuckled to yourself. You reached over to your nightstand, grabbed one of your favorite straps, and tossed it to Natasha. "She needs you."

"Is that so?" Natasha grinned, holding the strap-on.

"Yes," Wanda nodded, looking up at the redhead.

"How badly do you want it?" Natasha teased.

"I want it," Wanda answered, her voice shaky.

"Are you scared?"

"A little," Wanda admitted.

"We have you," You reassured her. Natasha removed herself from the bed to adjust the strap. It wasn't too big. Six and a half inches. It was perfect. She returned to the bed and kneeled between Wanda's thighs.

"We'll go slow," Natasha promised.

"Okay," Wanda nodded, taking a deep breath.

Natasha's hand slipped between her legs, testing her readiness.

"Fuck," Wanda gasped.

"That's good," Natasha smirked, pulling her hand back. "Ready?"

"Y-yes," Wanda said, nodding.

Natasha lined the dildo up with her pussy and pushed it in, her hands on either side of her hips.

"Oh, God," Wanda moaned, her eyes squeezing shut.

"How does it feel?"

"Good," Wanda whimpered.

"Just breathe, honey," Natasha cooed. From beside them, you offered moral support. You knew this feeling, and it was a good feeling.

"Fuck, it's a lot," Wanda panted.

"Do you need a minute?"

"No, keep going," Wanda urged.

Natasha obliged, pushing further into her.

"Oh, God," Wanda moaned.

"Good girl," Natasha murmured. Your eyes zeroed in on the strap pushing into Wanda's tight hole.

"Fuck," Wanda whined, her hips squirming.

"You're doing great," You praised.

"I know," Wanda groaned, her cheeks turning pink.

Natasha bottomed out, her hips flush against Wanda's.

"There we go," Natasha hummed.

"Oh," Wanda moaned, her body adjusting to the strap. Her clit brushed against Natasha's pelvis.

"That's better," Natasha smiled.

"Feels... different," Wanda admitted.

"Good or bad?"

"Just... different."

"You'll get used to it," You reassured her.

"Is that what it's like for you?" Wanda asked, looking at you.

"Sort of," You nodded. "But I usually have something inside me, too."

"Can I touch you again?" Wanda asked.

"Of course," You replied, spreading your legs.

Wanda reached over, her fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow circles around it.

"Mmm," You moaned.

"You have a pretty pussy," Wanda cooed.

"Thank you," You blushed.

"Do you mind if I taste it?"

"No, I don't mind," You shook your head. You knew the implications of what she was asking and obliged. In one swift move, you were straddling Wanda's head. She used one hand to wrap around your thigh and the other to dig into Natasha's back as the other woman thrust into her.

"Ooh," Wanda gasped as Natasha's hips met hers.

"Mm, fuck," You whimpered as her tongue lapped at your pussy.

"Tastes good," She muttered.

"You're so good," Natasha purred, her fingers digging into Wanda's hips.

Wanda moaned against your pussy, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

"O-oh," You gasped.

Wanda's tongue flicked over your clit, her lips wrapping around it. You did the same to her earlier, and it drove her wild. She figured the same would be for you.

"Holy shit," You breathed, your hips grinding against her.

"Fuck, I can't," Natasha whined, her hips snapping.

"You're doing so good," You encouraged.

"Mm-hmm," Wanda mumbled, her tongue licking up your slit. If someone were to walk in right now, they'd either be horrified or incredibly turned on. The sound of the bed creaking against the floor and your mingled moans were the only things that could be heard.

"You're doing amazing, baby," Natasha praised, her hips moving faster and harder.

"You're going to make us both come," You groaned.

Wanda whimpered beneath you. She'd never experienced something as euphoric as this moment. Even if her neck strained and he tongue was tired, she was not giving up. She felt the delicious ache of the strap filling hr, and your arousal coated her tongue.

"Oh, god," You moaned, your thighs trembling.

"Fuck," Natasha growled, her hips thrusting.

Wanda's hands dug into your thighs, her nails leaving small crescent marks.

"I-I'm gonna," You stammered.

"Do it," Wanda murmured, her lips moving against your pussy. You came, reaching out to the headboard to hold you up as you thrust against her tongue. You tried to be mindful of the fact that she could suffocate, but Wanda only locked in more. She pulled you down, sucking gently on your clit, prolonging your orgasm. Not too shortly after, she was thrown into her own unexpected orgasm as Natasha thrust harder.

"F-fuck," Natasha grunted.

"Holy shit," Wanda whimpered, her hips bucking.

Natasha's hips jerked, her grip tightening.

"Shit," You swore.

"FUCK!" Wanda moaned, her legs trembling.

Natasha's body tensed, her thighs shaking.

"Oh, God," She groaned.

"Oh my," You breathed.

Wanda let out a shaky moan, her body writhing beneath yours.

"Wow," She whispered.

"You're doing amazing," You panted, climbing off her head.

"That was incredible," Natasha breathed, slowly pulling the strap out of Wanda's pussy.

"Thank you," Wanda smiled, her chest heaving.

"You're such a good girl," Natasha smiled.

"You are," You nodded. "I can't believe that was your first time."

"Really?" Wanda asked.

"Absolutely," Natasha replied.

"Well, I guess it was worth the wait."

"I'm sure," You laughed, crawling into the middle of the bed.

"Do you need anything, babe?" Natasha asked.

"Maybe a glass of water," You smirked.

"Okay," Natasha nodded. She kissed you and then kissed Wanda.

"You're going to stay, right?"

"If you want me to," Wanda smiled.

"We'd love for you to," You grinned.

"Then, yes," She nodded.

"Good," You smiled, kissing her gently.

"We're keeping her," Natasha said as she walked out of the room.

"Definitely," You grinned. "Can you go again?" You asked her as your hands trailed across her body.

"Y-yes," Wanda answered, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Good," You hummed, nuzzling your face in her neck.

"That was... wow," Wanda breathed.

"It was," You nodded, pressing soft kisses against her neck.

"I never thought I'd actually have sex with someone, let alone two people," She said.

"You haven't really dated before?"

"No," Wanda replied, shaking her head.

"We've known each other for a long time," You noted. "This feels natural."

"It does," Wanda agreed.

"It's like you're part of our little family already."

"I think so," She smiled.

"I'm glad you feel that way."

[homeofhousechickens]

How do you get the chickens to be so cuddly?

I raised Beeper from a young age and Sugar is from my breeding program where I select for a friendly disposition. Best way to a chickens heart is through food though they are very intelligent and can be trained just like a cat or dog. While it is easier to socialize and handle them when they are young but that doesnt mean its impossible for an older chicken to become just as cuddly as Beeper. Some things to keep in mind if you want lap chickens

Chicks that are shipped to you, or bought from a hatchery or farm store have experienced a lot of stress and trauma before entering your home. Hatching at a hatchery and getting shipped right after you hatch is not a great start for a young chicken's brain so they are going to be more prone to being skittish. Please treat them with kindness and be gentler with them, they are fresh to this world and just had a scary experience.

You want young chickens to see you as a mother figure or a member of their flock so you should treat them like a mother hen/flock member would. Keep them warm, cuddle them, show them how to be a chicken, and give them tasty treats. You dont want to cuddle them to much though, there is nothing bad that will happen to the chicken but imprinted chicks can be pretty incessant with wanting to be around you at this age lol, dont worry though they do usually grow out of constant crying for you.

With taming older chickens its important to remember that they are social animals and they love routine. Having a set schedule where you tend to your birds is a great way to establish a solid positive association. If you also bring some high priority treats with you every time even better. You then want to sit on the ground with them and offer them more treats, you will gradually bring your handful of treats closer to your body intill the birds have to touch you. At this time the birds who are more inclined to be your friend will start to be obvious as they will be the first to greet you and will be more comfortable touching you. Its important you dont suddenly grab at bird during bonding time as that can break their trust, you want to try gently and slowly stroking them and go from there. This also works for skittish younger chicks as well if you have a reason to be more hands off.

Even birds who will never like handling can still be trained with something like a clicker, i would say that most chickens find training to be enriching and positive as long as its a treat that they like.

[fatimabb]

best friend atsumu! naturally feels protective of you, but when his feelings deepen, this protectiveness turns more intense. He’ll walk on the side closest to the street, stand closer than necessary when someone unfamiliar is around, and always check in after you’ve had a bad day. If anyone tries to hurt you emotionally or physically, his expression shifts to something darker, a silent warning that he won’t tolerate anyone mistreating you.

best friend atsumu! will always be in contact with your body. his touches linger a little longer than they should. A hand on your shoulder stays just a few seconds more, his fingers brush against yours “accidentally” when he hands you something, and his hugs feel warmer and more intimate. He’ll make excuses like “Just making sure you’re real” to cover up how much he actually wants to stay close.

best friend atsumu! teases you constantly, knowing exactly how to get under your skin in the most endearing way. But he’s also incredibly quick to switch gears and say something sweet to make you smile. His teasing is often his way of masking how much he actually cares, and he finds himself laughing along with you, addicted to the sound of your happiness.

best friend atsumu! always seems to know exactly what you need, sometimes even before you do. If you’re stressed, he’ll show up with your favorite food, saying, “I was just in the area.” If you’re upset, he’ll sit with you quietly until you’re ready to talk, never pushing you to open up but always ready to listen when you do. His way of caring is subtle, always making sure you’re comfortable and happy, even if he’s sacrificing his own time or energy.

best friend atsumu! finds himself staring at you without realizing it, studying your face when you’re lost in thought or laughing with friends. His gaze is soft, filled with something more profound than simple friendship, and he sometimes gets lost in how much he feels for you. When you catch him looking, he’ll just smile and shrug, playing it off casually, but inside, his heart is racing.

best friend atsumu! has memorized all the little things that make you, you. He knows your favorite way to drink your coffee, the songs you hum when you’re happy, and the way you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking. He even remembers your birthmark on your right shoulder, and sometimes he’ll surprise you by mentioning them. “Oh, I figured you’d like this; it’s just your style,” he’ll say with a grin, secretly pleased that he knows you so well.

best friend atsumu! gets a little possessive whenever he sees you getting close to someone else. If you mention someone who’s been paying attention to you, he’ll go quiet or change the subject, his jaw tensing just a bit. He tries to play it off as indifference, but anyone who knows him can see the flash of jealousy in his eyes. If anyone actually flirts with you in front of him, his responses become just a little sharper, as if he’s subtly marking his territory.

best friend atsumu! is the first person you think to call when things go wrong, and he makes sure it stays that way. If you’re ever upset, he’ll drop everything to be there, giving you a space to vent, cry, or just sit in silence without judgment. He loves knowing that you feel safe with him and would do anything to keep that trust, secretly hoping you see him as someone irreplaceable.

best friend atsumu! compliments you in ways that sound like he’s joking or teasing. “You know, if I weren’t me, I’d probably have a huge crush on you,” he’ll say with a smirk, but there’s always a trace of sincerity in his voice. He’ll drop little hints like that, wondering if you’ll ever pick up on them, and his eyes always linger on your reaction, searching for signs that you might feel the same way.

best friend atsumu! would never abandon you, no matter what. He’ll stand by you in every high and low, never hesitating to defend you or support you. Whether you need someone to help you study, move apartments, or just listen to you ramble, he’s there without question. It’s his way of showing how much he values you, hoping one day you might realize that his loyalty isn’t just because you’re his best friend but because you’re the person he wants to be with.

[vickytaa]

You are not alone.

summery: You have a toxic relationship with a guy named Harry. But since you entered, you knew there was no way out.

wc: 4k

a/n: please, if you are or know anyone who is in this situation, please do not hesitate to talk to someone to get out of there. Communicate with a helpline for victims of violence, talk with a friend, family, professor, or someone who you trust. It's important to remember that you are not to blame for what's happening and that you deserve to live free of violence.

I didn't really want to be at that party, but my boyfriend, Harry, insisted so much on coming that I ended up accepting. He.. wasn't the best, under everyone's gaze he was the best boyfriend we all would love to have, but every time we were alone, the only thing he would do was mistreat me and tell me anything he wanted.

His clothes weren't ironed? Slam. The food wasn't ready? Slam. Isn't the house clean? Slam.

That's my day to day.

I knew I had to stop this. It wasn't good for me. But I didn't know who to tell this, everyone thought he was perfect, including my best friends. But Matthew was the only one who noticed the discomfort in my eyes every time Harry was near. Matthew and I were just friends, we weren’t so near, but I knew I could count on him whenever I needed it. He was the only person who was there when I was at a bad moment.

“Come on, let's just go!” Harry shouted from the living room. I heard him sigh hard, making me understand that he was angry. “Oh my god, you take too long. You are useless!” He shouted again.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, just to make sure I was presentable. I was wearing a mini black dress and a pair of black leather boots that matched my dress, with my hair in a ponytail. I walked down the stairs quickly for him not to keep complaining.

“That's how you are going? You look like a slut” I was speechless. I looked at him without believing what he had just said, even though he always used to tell me things like that, but they always hurt the same way, even more. After standing still for a couple of seconds, I was able to say, “Uhm.. I can change into something else if you wa-” “No, it's already too late and if you change again the party will end. Come on.”

We both got in the car when a huge silence started to invade the interior. “You must behave well. We'll be the perfect couple, just like usual, alright?”. He said while he took off his hand from the wheel to let it rest on my thigh, making pressure, a bit, too hard.

I nodded my head. I feared what he could or would do if anyone found out that we weren't the perfect couple that we said we were. The suffering I experienced day by day, crying every night, without being able to leave this endless loop.

We arrived, and before we got out, Harry grabbed my arm firmly and looked me in the eyes. I felt a strong pressure on my chest that prevented me from breathing easily. I knew what was going on.

“You know that I love you, right?” He said while smiling at me. It was all so fake. I knew he didn’t like me not even a little bit, he was just doing this to have a ‘good reputation’, but why? I didn’t know, don’t want to know either. I didn’t answer him, turned my head to try again on opening the door. Harry grabbed me stronger than before to the point it seemed like it was going to leave a mark on me. “Auch! Let me go!” I whined. “You love me to, don’t ya’?” “Yes Harry.” Disgusting. How could I lie that much? I didn’t want him even nearby. I wanted to get away from him as much as I could. But I replied to him just for him to let go my arm and finally get somewhere with more people than just the two of us.

When we entered, the tension I had before, a little freed. I had decided that I was going to enjoy tonight, and what was happening after I wouldn’t care. I just wanted to feel good, at least for a while.

“Hey babe, I’m going there with my friends, if anything happens just tell me” He finished and gave me a kiss. I smiled and went directly to the bar to drink something and clear my mind. I needed to find a way out of the relationship with him.

“Just a Margarita please” I asked the boy who made the drinks. “Make it two” I heard someone say behind me. I turned around to see who it was, and there he was. Matthew Sturniolo, the one and only. “Hi, what’s up? I didn’t know you were coming tonight” Before I could respond to him, I had to look at him. Matt was everything that I wanted, brown hair, tall, handsome, he knew how to dress up, gentleman, but, above all, his smile was the most beautiful. He was wearing a black jean with a black shirt, and obviously with his pinky ring.

“I would have worn something better” he said, seeing that I hadn’t said anything yet. He knew how to make me smile naturally. “And.. Why did you decide to come here today? From the little we talked; I think you don’t like coming to parties at all." Matthew said, sitting next to me.

“Harry forced me to come. I was looking for an excuse to go, but you came so…” “So, you’re going to keep pretending that your relationship with Harry it’s perfect just to please him?” I wanted to deny it, but in the deep I knew he was right. Besides, his blue eyes that shined despite the poor lighting in the place could make me reveal any secret. Matt looked at how my gaze moved down slowly, knowing that what he said was right, so he decided to put his hand on my shoulder, “Hey, it’s okey that you are afraid, but this is making you bad. It’s killing you. I don’t want to see you like this anymore. You know that you can count on me if you ever want to tell Harry how you feel” My gaze met his again and I smiled. How I loved him, it was indescribable, despite the little we talked, he was the person who I had most trust on. “Thank you” “You look beautiful today, you should be careful with the boys out there” His hand running over my body to my leg, and moving his thumb up and down, tracing patterns that, no matter how much I don’t want to admit it, they made me very hot.

When I came back to reality, I started to look for Harry with my eyes, I knew that if he found out that I was talking with his non-friend, he would he was going to punish me badly. But luckily, I saw that he was taking his ‘medicine’ with his friends’ drug addicts.

So, I brought my mouth closer to Matt’s ear and said “You know… you also look very cute today… I would like to take you somewhere..” I said seductively. “Oh yes? What are you doing with your boyfriend? He might get angry” “Shh.. I’ll take care of that later, for now, we should take this..” I said while grabbing his car keys that were too close to Matt’s clear budge. “And go to somewhere quieter”. Matt looked at me while I stood up from my seat and started going towards the entrance, every now and then looking back just to make sure he was following me. His eyes stuck at my ass, how that black dress accentuated my curves, and trying to guess what underwear I was wearing, just like he could see through my short dress.

“I love that plan” he said. He turned around to check if anyone was looking, and when he assured, he grabbed me and held me under my knees and behind my back. My lips curled into a smirk. He carried me all the way to the car. I loved how he could make me feel the happiness I’ve never felt with Harry, and he always does it naturally, just like he was meant to make people feel happy.

Matt grabbed the wheel with one hand, and the other one rested on my thigh. His gaze stayed on the road but sometimes strayed to me. I couldn’t stop looking at him. The way he would make me forget about everything made me happy. The tattoos embedded in his skin were exposed as he had rolled up his shirt sleeves. He was hot. One of the thousands of thoughts that ran through my mind were how delicate, brown, soft hair would look and feel in the middle of my legs, God, what’s happening with me? Harry must be worried because I’m not there with him. He would kill me if he knew I was going.. wait.. where are we going? I’ve never asked, and Matt just started driving. “Matthew, where are we going?” I wasn’t worried, I knew Matt would drive us somewhere safe, but just curious. “My house, darling, Chris and Nick, will come back on Monday, and I thought why not?” Oh god, home alone he said? I hope my whises will finally come true.

I knew it was fucked out, but I didn’t care, I needed a break from Harry. I needed to get away from him.

When we arrived, Matt got out of the car and ran quickly to open my door. He offered his hand and helped me to get out. “Wow, what a gentleman” I looked over my shoulder just to see a smirk on his face. We entered the house; it was my first time there. The place was very cozy, and it felt more like home than I ever felt at mine with Harry. Matt sat down on the couch and patted a place next to him, inviting me to sit there. I sat and hugged him gently, like a ‘thank you for this’. He turned on the TV and put on Netflix. “Wanna’ see anything, sweetheart?” “Anything is okay, I just wan’ be with you”. He looked into my eyes with that look that melted you, smiling with his light pink lips, and his white teeth were well aligned. I looked at him, and then at his slips, I’ve never paid attention to how good they looked, I wanted to kiss them.

He decided to put “Sister Death”. I’ve always been fan of horror movies, although I suffer a bit watching it, the sensation on my chest, little scares and the tension always, I loved it.

Matt grabbed a blanket next to him and covered both of us. Despite none of us were talking, the silence was comfortable, being with him relaxed me. He was always helping, listening and talking to me. Simply it was like having a person where you can be yourself and talk about things you don’t usually talk about.

We were watching the film cuddling, and every now and then a gasp leaves my lips, or I would get scared by something and jump a little. I was really into the movie, but every time I got a sight of Matt, anger was very visible, and it seemed like it was growing by everything I did.

“Everything alright?” I asked. “You should stop doing that” Matt turned his gaze to focus on me. “Do what? This?” I said before leaning forward his ear and started breathing heavily, moving slightly, simulating jumps. “You are driving me crazy” Matt said. “I know you love it”. I began to climb onto his lap. His hands that were previously on my shoulder, moved to my waist, squeezing it slightly and moving forward my ass. I cupped his face, my hands on his cheeks, smiling absolutely dazzled by his beauty. Every time I would get nearer to his face, I could feel his breath speeding up. “You are so pretty, y/n” “And you are so handsome”. He took one hand off my body to brush a few strands of hair away from my face. We stared at each other for a moment before I crashed my lips onto his, with a soft kiss that quickly turned into a much hungrier and fuller passion. His tongue licked my bottom lip to ask for permission. And that’s how we started to taste each other. My hips started to move back and forth, repeatedly and unconsciously, while he leaned me stronger and stronger on the clear bulge in his pants.

I took my lips off his to take a breath, Matt took advantage and began trailing kisses from my jawline to my collarbone, passing by my neck, leaving very visible hickeys. “Matt” I whispered. It was heaven, the delicacy with which he did it was unmatched. He never broke eye contact between the two. His hands started to explore my body until he reached the straps that held up my dress. He looked for approval, and I quickly nodded my head. Without thinking twice, he started to lower them, and he was taking his time, trying to make it the best way possible. The temperature rose faster and faster as our bodies met.

When he finally finished, he could see my body naked, only for him. His eyes traveled all over my body, along with his hands. “I need you” was the only thing I could think of.

It was a long, almost endless night. Every time our eyes met it was as if time slowed down. Our rapid breathing combined with my screams were like blessings to his ears. The bed being the only witness of the love and warmth between us. The fatigue never left, but the satisfaction was greater, making our experience endless. We both fell asleep in each other's arms, knowing that this had to be repeated, despite being prohibited.

☆

As the sun began to rise, I slowly opened my eyes to find Matthew sound asleep, holding me tightly as if he didn't want me to leave. But I had to. Harry must be worried because I left yesterday without telling him. So, I decided to get up, giving Matt a kiss on the forehead as a goodbye. I got dressed in my clothes but kept his T-shirt on over my dress. Before leaving his room, I looked back at him, and a deep sadness washed over me. I knew I couldn't be with him, no matter how much I wanted to. Harry was so toxic, and if I ever tried to leave him, he would chase me. I felt trapped. The feeling of not being able to break free haunts me every day.

When I got home, I saw Harry asleep on the couch. What did he want from me? I went to bed trying to figure out what I would tell him if he asked, but my mind couldn't stop replaying last night. All that passion between us. I decided to get some sleep, to wait for hell to come. A long time later, I woke up to Harry's yelling and pushing. He was always angry with me, but this time it was different, it was worse. I quickly got up, and Harry grabbed my hair, pulling my ear close to his mouth so I could hear his complaints. "Who the hell were you with yesterday?!" he yelled repeatedly as my eyes filled with tears and some rolled down my cheeks. The air was stuck in my throat, my body felt numb to the blows. "Answer me!" he continued to shout, but I no longer felt alive. Matthew's image in my head was the only thing keeping me awake. When Harry finally let go of me, after seeing that I was no longer crying or complaining, he walked away and went to the kitchen. He ignored me completely for the rest of the day, something I was grateful for.

The nights that followed were pure hell. He beat and abused me mercilessly, paying no heed to my desperate pleas. His cruel words sent my anxiety and depression soaring. I called in sick to work that week, but I was really drowning in tears, trying to mend the damage he'd done. Matthew had bombarded me with messages and calls, but Harry had confiscated my phone to keep me isolated and silent. Matt must have known something was wrong, but he was helpless without knowing my whereabouts or who to turn to. I had vanished without a trace, and whenever anyone inquired about me, Harry would lie and say I was ill, keeping up the facade.

On Saturday night, Harry announced we were going to a party. After what felt like an eternity, I was finally going to escape our house, my personal hell. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a black top, throwing on a jacket to cover the worst of it. As I stepped into the bathroom to change, I met my reflection. The marks of my suffering stared back at me – the cuts I'd inflicted upon myself, as if the abuse he inflicted wasn't enough. I was a stranger in my own skin, a frightened stranger. I quickly changed and started applying makeup to conceal the bruises and scratches marring my face. Tears streamed down my cheeks, falling into the sink. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I worked. Emerging from the bathroom, I stood by the door, waiting for Harry.

He descended the stairs and approached me, his grip tightening on my arm. "You've been very sick, but you're all better now, aren't you?" he sneered. I nodded, trapped beneath his power. "You better not take that jacket off and show anyone those marks, or you'll never leave this place again," he threatened. I nodded again, fear choking my words.

We arrived, and as we stepped inside, Harry took my hand. I wanted it all to end—the relationship with Harry, the lies, the abuse, the pain, the anguish. "Honey, I'm going to catch up with my friends. It's been ages," he said before leaning in and whispering, "Don't do anything stupid, or there will be consequences." I felt my body go weak for a moment. He smiled and walked away. I forced a smile in return and headed to the bar. "A glass of water, please," I said, scanning the crowd for a familiar face but finding none. I was alone, as always. When the bartender handed me the glass, I gulped it down as if I hadn't had water in days.

I watched Harry from afar, his scent filling the air. That familiar cologne that would be impossible to forget. I turned to find him standing behind me. "Hey," he said. Tears welled up in my eyes as I threw my arms around him. "What happened? Why weren't you answering my messages or calls?" After a moment, I pulled back. "Harry took my phone. He's been abusing me, Matt. I need your help." I cried uncontrollably. "What? What did he do to you?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. How could I possibly explain the hell I'd been living in? "Ever since that night...when we... Harry's been terrible. He hits me, calls me horrible names, and won't let me eat. He took my phone so I couldn't contact anyone." I buried my face in my hands as I spoke. Matt pulled me closer, his eyes filled with anger and sadness.

He began to scan the room, his gaze darting from person to person. "What are you doing?" I asked. Ignoring me, he started moving through the crowd. I had no idea what he was up to, but I followed him. When he stopped, I finally understood.

"What the hell do you want, and what are you doing with my girlfriend?" Matt ignored him, standing there defiantly. Confused and high, Harry stepped up to Matt, their eyes locking. "I said, what the hell do you want and what are you doing with my fucking girlfriend?" "You're going to regret calling her that," Matt snarled, punching Harry square in the face. A brawl erupted, and a crowd quickly gathered around them. I wanted to stop them, but I knew it would only make things worse.

"Matt, stop!" I screamed when Harry fell to the ground, motionless. His face was a bloody mess, and Matt's hands were covered in blood. "I hope you learned your lesson. Do you understand?" Matt demanded, yanking Harry up by his shirt. Harry nodded weakly and collapsed back to the ground. The combined effects of the drugs and the beating were too much.

Matt finally released him, and the party resumed as if nothing had happened. He found me and pulled me into a tight embrace. I was shaking, terrified of what might happen to him. "Let's get your things. You can't stay with him after what he's done," Matt said. I nodded, and we rushed to my car. As we drove away, we sat in silence for a moment. "You didn't have to do that," I started, but he cut me off. "I don't care what he might do to you or me. What matters is that you're safe with me now, and we'll face whatever comes together."

I couldn't believe it; I was finally escaping this living hell. Euphoria washed over me. I turned to Matt and smiled, and he returned the gesture as he started the car. "You shouldn't have had to go through all that he put you through," Matt broke the silence. I didn't know what to say. For so long, Harry had twisted my mind, making me believe I was the worst person in the world, that everything I did against him was deserved, and that I was worthy of even harsher punishments. He'd made me believe I deserved more than just his abuse, which is why, whenever I was alone, I would rush to the bathroom and inflict pain upon myself.

So lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice Matt gently taking my arm and rolling up the sleeve of my jacket. When he saw the scars, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and anger. He was heartbroken by the damage I had endured, and even more so by the fact that I had been hurting myself to please Harry.

"Y/N... why did you do this to yourself?" I still didn't have a clear answer. The recent events had been overwhelming, and I guess I had found a way to externalize my pain. Matt took my hand and kissed it. "I love you, and I want you to know that we're going to get through this together." I looked at him and smiled. His words were like balm to my soul, soothing my pain and filling my mind with hope.

"Thank you."

I've been wanting to post this for soo longgg. hope you like it.

love ya :))

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

My blog is generally pretty lighthearted and I stick to reblogging art and fic and fun stuff, but you know what. I feel like I need to say this.

I am a trans teen in the US. I'm seventeen, so too young to have voted. I'm terrified for my life right now. I usually post about college but I'm actually concurrently enrolled in high school still and the kid who sits behind me in first period government is a massive Trump fanboy. I'm going to have to go to high school Monday and talk about the election. I'm going to have to hear my deadname called and hear people in my super conservative high school talk about how happy they are Trump won. Everything is terrifying. I walk outside of my house and I'm scared I'll be shot. Several months ago I promised that I'd kill myself if that bastard won.

He did and I'm still here.

I'm not thriving. I'm not living my best life. I'm barely living. But I'm surviving. I'm coping. I'm trying my goddamned best. It's hard. I want so bad to just go and take as much medication as I can and slit my wrist for good measure and pass away in my sleep. But I'm still here. And I will be here.

I am in so much pain. But I'm living on spite and determination and everything I can scrape together. I know I need support and those around me need support. So consider this a support masterpost.

Support:

First thing you should see if you're a trans person in the US.

Here's a link to the Trevor Project and here's a link to their suicide hotline page. They've already saved my life once before. Please note - they recommend calling if you need immediate support. Donate if you can, please.

This post is both a suicide hotline masterlist and a post mentioning how something feels deeply wrong here with this election.

On the topic of something being wrong, sign this petition. I'm only seventeen but I did this and it might not feel like much but if we couldn't shoot that bastard (I am not pro-gun but I am when it comes to him) then we'll do the next best thing. Here's the link to the petition itself. Make sure to check the post every once in a while - the original petition got taken down and this is important.

I follow a lot of gimmick blogs, so I got to see this post encouraging us to be loud. Because we should be. Because if we die they've won and my mom didn't smoke weed on the steps of the state capital of Colorado to legalize it just so her son could roll over and die.

Here is the Tumblr Hot Beverage Masterpost, as I've taken to calling it. My personal favorites are the London Fog in the replies, earl grey with milk, honey, and vanilla (in the tags), and some additions from me are hot chocolate with peppermint melted into it, earl grey with lavender, caramel apple tea, and really anything else you can think of. Trust me. This post works better than you think.

Read this post if you haven't seen it already. It's half poem, half Tumblr being Tumblr, all wonderful to read.

Things I just like to see:

PM Seymour and Bettina Levy both have shown their support for everyone struggling right now. It might not be much, but I still really appreciate it and seeing support can really help.

The cat with the kind and reassuring face. No other context.

Four panel comic of hope. Because you're more than enough.

Can't find the post where I found this but this is a link to a virtual toy where you can make your own galaxy.

Please. Eat something. Drink a hot beverage. Draw, write, read, knit, sew, sculpt, bake, do something that helps. Reach out to friends, even if they're online friends. Talk to someone you trust. Make vent art. Write vent fics. It doesn't matter what you do as long as it helps.

Do not roll over and die. Live. Live on spite. Live on determination. Live on shitposts and live on heartfelt stories like this one. If you have anything to add to this post please do. Add more resources. Add more love to this post. I know I'm just a guy on the internet saying shit, but I still care about everyone who sees this post.

[theweepingangelofcas]

Eat The Rich, Feed Them to the Cats - Moriarty Bros x Reader

Anyone else in the USA having a crisis? Me too! Let's all maladaptive daydream together that our sweet dear Sherlock boys are with us, on our side.

Title is inspired by a fav nonprofit cat shelter of mine, Wonky Hearts Animal Haven. Please go check them out. They have stories that are truly so heartwarming and uplifting, it's a great distraction.

(No, I do not believe all men are bad. I myself have a male fiance whom I love and trust very much. But the election has left me feeling helpless and scared, as though my rights or my body don't matter. I'm writing this to vent. I respect if your political opinions are different than me, but I ask that you do not attack me in the comments, my dm's, etc)

******************

William Moriarty

You two had been together for years now, since you two were teenagers. You've shared everything. Hopes, dreams, ideals... So when he saw someone try to harass you simply because of your gender? That won't do.

"Oi! Pretty broad!"

The random man's words did little to phase you. You didn't even speed up your footsteps. But your dear William stopped in his tracks.

Oh, yes, that's right. No one had ever been stupid enough to cat call you with him around before.

"Y/N..." his gaze had turned to the man, unblinking, "Did you not hear what that man just so crudely yelled at you?"

You shrugged, stopping in your tracks to try and let him catch up to you. He didn't dare move.

"It's nothing, William. Happens all the time to us ladies."

If you didn't know better, you'd say his eye just twitched.

"Is that so? And here I was, thinking it was mostly noblemen who were the rotten part of our society."

He smiled then. Like his mind wasn't 100% alongside you anymore.

His cane left the ground, being weilded in both hands almost like a baseball bat.

Or, more accurately, perhaps he was holding it like a mace.

It was safe to say, no man went within a few dozen meters of you for quite some time after that. After all, you always had your dear William with you now.

Louis Moriarty

Oh, did you think William would be protective?

Ha!

Louis is SO MUCH WORSE

To be completely fair, he was already practically a guard dog for both you and William. You had been engaged to him for a few months, and each passing day he just wanted to spend more time by your side.

This was how he found out how truly awful some men could be.

You two had boarded a train back to Durham, coming back from a lunch date together. You two had managed to score a semi-private spot in the lunch car, meaning that he could hold you without too much fuss from the rest of society. One hand was in yours, the other wrapped around your waist. You had both ordered drinks, his a sophisticated Earl Grey tea, yours a refreshing seltzer water. That was when your waiter came back up to you both.

"Sir, I know this is quite uncouth of me to say, but the gentleman a few seats down won't stop staring at your lady friend there." He gestured to you, specifically your chest, and you seemed to shrink into your seat instantly.

Louis scowled, "Thank you for informing me. You're dismissed, good sir."

The waiter stepped away, and Louis's grip on you got tighter.

"It's fine, darling. You mustn't fret." You tried to comfort him, but his scowl only deepened.

"I will fret." He turned his head, catching eyes with a man a few booths down. He did, indeed, seem to be staring at you. "And I'm going to teach him to respect others, or die trying."

You saw Louis stand, and approach the man in a terrifying calmness. He shook his hand, and gestured for him to follow him.

If you happened to see a person-shaped figure get thrown out of the train that day, no one has to know.

Albert Moriarty

He understands deep, seething rage. He dealt with it much when he was younger. So he understands that the best way to deal with it, is to take care of it yourself.

Normally, women weren't allowed into a prestigious college. But Albert, with his power and wealth, managed to convince the school that having one woman among its ranks wouldn't hurt. Hence, you being halfway through a science and medicine degree. Albert supported you all the way through. Your husband truly was a lovely, understanding man.

"It was fascinating, my love!" Your eyes lit up as you opened your textbook to that day's lesson, "We learned about the chambers of the heart, and all the illnesses and diseases that can correlate to it's health. Isn't that so cool!"

His smile widened at seeing you happy, "It certainly is, my dear. Do go on, teach me more about it."

You nodded, eyes bright, about to keep talking before-

"I'm sure anything is fascinating to a woman. But can she even understand it? Why, she should be at home, not trying to educate herself on something she could never possibly understand."

A man had approached you both. His smug grin was enough to dampen your joy immediately.

Albert blinked, his expression blank, before turning his head back to you, "My dear, would you like my walking stick, or do you want to use your textbook? After all, this fine gentleman seems in need of an anatomy lesson."

Your grin came back, "Your walking stick, please. I'd rather not get my favorite chapter dirty."

The man's eyes flew open as you took the wooden cane from Albert, weilding it more like a weapon than an aid.

"Now," The excitement in your expression was back, "I'll give you an anatomy lesson as I break all of your bones in alphabetical order."

[spotaus]

Ohh yeah, he doesn't escape my trauma beam :]

I'm editing this, to here's the full version! (Adding on to the end)

Yes to the thing about Killer having seem a running pattern of near-abandonment with Chara! He's smart, just very very sheltered + brainwashed. So when he finally has the guts to test it? He's heartbroken <3

And. And. Omg. The. The- THE- Okay sorry. Killer having fantasies in the beginning of convincing Ccino to run away? To escape with him? And have the perfect do-over with someone who he can actually be close with and not have a weird power disbalance?? Holy shit... that's insane and I love it dearly. And it makes him choosing to stay ultimately that much heavier- waughhhhh.

(I think I'm on a kick, but I feel like this is one of those things Killer would bring up way later. Like joking after a busy mission, coming in and collapsing on a couch in Ccino's spot. Just being like, 'Man, I can't believe I ever thought of running away with you,' or smth. And Ccino's like, 'Huh?' And Killer laughs it off because it was an old childish dream of his when he first arrived-)

Okay this is underwhelming short rn but I'll be back, haha! (I need to work out Killer's stakes in staying with Nightmare. It could be as simple as his curiosity, a driving force in continuously leaving behind everything he's known, or maybe smth else lol-)

Additions:

Yes! Killer was very very used to being used as a means to an end, and so as he got to know Chara ad they kept taking the time to talk to him, he saw so much more, so many more chances. And Chara saw a friend (VERY loosely, because they, as a fellow neglected kid, also didn't have a good grasp on how friends work) but also someone who would be able to get them out. Strong enough, and with enough detatchment to people as a whole to trust them on their word. not worry about standards that (they assumed) kept their parents at arm's length from them. Killer wouldn't worry about what others thought or who was good or bad, because he'd just follow Chara's every word. So Chara, who didn't have the guts to act out, used Killer instead :)

And, the thing about the things that tipped Killer off to Chara's behavior? It was a lot, but largely it was just that Killer was always behind Chara, watching their back, pulling them out of harm's way and trying to make sure that if anyone got caught, it'd be him. He could escape, he could be crafty and sneaky, that was why Chara liked him. When he got caught by any given royal guard or authority figure, he'd just weasel away and meet up with Chara at the edge of town, he always managed to find them. Hunt them down. And they always stuck around, but they were hidden away. Not preparing to come find him, not doing anything of the sort, just... waiting. It was only when he was on his own later that someone teased him, 'Is your little human friend coming to save you?' and Killer realized that. Maybe that was something people did? He did it for Chara all the time, so often that they were hardly caught at all. In those moments, he's broken them out. Would they do the same? And he didn't act on it until it ate him up and he realized the resounding answer was: No. No, they wouldn't.

And to expand on the Night and Killer thing? I think Killer is still trying to shake off his old habits. He doesn't want to be someone's dog anymore, but he doesn't even realize he's doing it a lot of the time. Y'know that test of trust where Nightmare sends Killer on that solo mission with the chance to run away and never come back? To go on the run again? But Killer comes back and is proud of himself? Yeah, the context there is a really muddy mix for Killer of the loyalty and subservience beaten into him, and the genuine respect he has for Nightmare, and a lot of the time he can't distinguish them in the beginning. He can't tell what is him doing these things out of habit, and what is intentional and willing and important to him. And Nightmare thinks nothing of it (<- Still was a spoiled royal kid, so Killer being so... obedient? It's just an added bonus that his criminal turned out to be such a loyal and trustworthy knight! Surely there's no hidden trauma behind this :]) and... doesn't exhasterbate it, but there are definitely moments where Night and Chara are foils. Someone pulling Killer out of a bad situation, to use him for his few skills which aren't even really part of him but how he survived in his last situation, only to praise him for acting in a way that's basically been him in survival mode for all his life? Even the affections, the care. Chara cared. Just not as much as Killer did. Meanwhile Nightmare at the start was just the same, he cared, but not as deeply, unwilling to be so vulnerable yet. Only, Night overcame that distance and worked on his end too, to give Killer that real freedom as much as he physically could.

I think that the cats (which, yeah, definitely had a Moment with a cat. Whether out on the streets with Chara or in the castle once he finally had a second to snap out of his constant high-stress state) and the time he spends goofing off in the castle (like, the silly games? Chara never wanted to play his games) helps him solidify a lot that this is where he is meant to be. At least for now. The more he gets to be a normal person, have time where he's off the clock, when he can eat and sleep and talk and joke how he likes? When he can drink with the other Knights when they arrive, or play pranks around the castle, or let the cats smother him? That's Killer's favorite time. And, of course, wayyyy later when Killer gets to pick Night up under his arm and carry him around, and joke with him, and be his big brother, because he never had a proper family.

Okay I think that's all of it? woooooooo

Okay. So Killer (New Age) lore post! Putting it immediately under the cut, because I get the feeling this will be longer-

Killer! He's the first one Nightmare takes in! He's the 'Average' one. The silver-tongued common street rat, literally snatched away from the gallows. He's obnoxiously loyal.

His story is going to be (hopefully) loosely based on his canon, but still follow a lot of the New Age conventions.

So, Killer was a straight up orphan. Like, abandoned as a babybones on the steps of a temple. Temples would often double as orphanages, if you dropped a kid at the right one. (Killer had a malformed soul from birth. Didn't affect him at all, just looked weird.) So Killer? He was raised religious, basically. Worshipping the deity which was most prominent at the time (which for this era, Nim was largely the one being worshipped as though a god. Like Rome worshipping the Emperor), a very strict environment, a very lonely one as there weren't many other kids, and a fairly violent upbringing. The people there were Not proper caretakers. But it was all Killer had, and running away never crossed his mind, because beyond the market, there was nothing for him that the temple couldn't give. At least, that's what he was taught. Until, of course, he met Chara (just going by the normal ut name tho I do think they're called the Player in Something New?). (Note: Killer had a different name before he left the temple.)

Killer was only 11 or 12 (he didn't really keep track) when Chara started coming with their parents to the Temple. Their parents would ditch them to talk to the adults, and Chara would try to find other things to do, to get out of their parents sight, and one day they spotted the Orphans. Killer in particular (the oldest) was their target, about their same age. And they would talk to him. At first he was hesitant, but, you know how it goes, kids are kids and they'll talk.

And over the course of several visits, Chara told Killer about the outside world. All the places and the animals (Killer told Chara that the sacrafices were all animals, very unique) and the ocean, they told him about the mountains and the towns and ships and the guard and all of it. And it got to Killer. He started wanting to go beyond the walls of the temple (he always had, but never had reason to understand that urge).

One night, Chara showed up at the temple grounds after dark, while Killer was doing his final cleaning checks, and they encouraged him to leave. to run away with them. And... well, he did. He stole a cloak from the doorway and ran off with Chara. While they were on the run, Chara from their parents and Killer from his temple, they had to do what all street-rats did. Steal, cheat, and protect themselves. Killer was the first of them to kill. it wasn't much different from sacrificing the animals on the altar, anyhow. It was just another way to get what he wanted, since the god, Nim, never had any answers to his prayers. The person he killed had recognized his name, other sects were after him now that he'd run with Chara (unbeknownst to him, Chara was meant to be a sacrifice once they were old enough). He changed his name to the skill he was good at: Killer.

And they stay like that for a long long time, never settling down, always on the move, never leaving the kingdom because doing so would make it easier to find them, two red marbles in a sea of blue ones. And Chara never got their hands dirty. it was always Killer. it was his duty to back-up Chara. he 'owed' them for getting him out of that Temple. Out of that boring life. Chara, in some way, became the center of his world, something beyond his grasp and beyond poor judgement. Beyond the flaws of any living being. And they were fine. They still did normal teenage things, they laughed, they joked, they played, they lied, they got sweet treats and split big loaves of bread. But it wasn't healthy. A parasitic relationship where Chara took and Killer gave, weighed down by an impossible debt to repay.

Then, years and years later, Killer was finally taken down by the guard. Now wanted for several counts of murder, theft, and other bad things, he was caught. This time, unlike several others, instead of breaking out like he normally did, h decided to wait and see. How long would he have to be gone for Chara to seek him out instead? And Chara left him. And left him. And didn't ever come back for him. Gone, fully, 100%. His faith broke, along with his hope. The one thing that motivated him in life had abandoned him, and he couldn't seem to bring himself to do anything anymore, because he had sacrificed all he was and wasn't enough to keep his only friend around.

In prison he talked with other people. Prisoners aren't all bad, you know, especially when they saw Killer, a young guy, looking so downtrodden. Even though he was an objectively horrible person, hearing others try to cheer him up, expecting nothing in return, was helpful.

And then, ofc, when he met Nightmare he decided he could have a ticket out of here. A weird guy who would give him a place to stay, and pay him, and he could just go and then escape like he always did? Go live his own life for the first time ever? Yeah, sounds banger.

But then, you know, he ended up finding Nightmare's situation much too interesting, and Ccino way too handsome, and his gig just a bit too cushy. But he never had blind faith again. Nightmare is unaware, but that fake faith act Killer started with quickly morphed into a faith earned through action, and care, and kindness. Killer saw and felt that Night would be willing to risk himself just as much as Killer would. (Maybe that's why he became so loyal. maybe that's why it's important that Killer came first and set that expectation for the other Knights. Maybe that's why Killer faced off against Dream and almost died, and why Nightmare ran infront of Killer to spare him that final blow and proved exactly why Killer followed him in the firstplace-)

[ccbatman]

actually so evil how much of hal's internal world gets obliterated with the rewriting of his relationships with jessica and martin.

[soup--champ]

every time that I see someone say that q!pac and q!mike deserved to be thrown in prison or say things to try to minimize the severity of q!foolish's actions I want to gnaw the legs off of a chair.

[windupaidoneus]

this need for approval is a fucking disease it is absolutely mind boggling that i need feedback on what i say & post or my mind decides everyone takes a look at it & goes yep here goes this annoying freak again talking about his annoying freak things. & im not even like that with everyone. it literally does not fucking matter oh my goddd grow UP! im normal now. i understand my minds machinations. misto is nodding in approval at me

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[desthebolt]

Me, sitting here watching my entire dashboard get bombarded with splatfest grief: … Everyone okay? Yall want some fruit gushers and some water or some shit? Yall need a break?? Like what is happening rn

[taegularities]

love you 🥺🤍