#and also how necessary it is for them to re-get to know each other

[casualavocados]

The Fan family has tried to harm Bai Zongyi many times. I gotta be on guard to protect myself.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 10

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

[kurokawaia]

❛ GENTLE ❜

HImejima Gyomei x Fem!Wife!Reader

WC; 1.3k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: x fem reader, fem pronouns, fem bodied reader, oral -> female receiving, male giving, fingering, praise, slight overstimulation? implied size kink, reader is smaller than Gyomei + probably more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) could you write a Gyomei Himejima x reader smut. Because I think her would be SO gentle if her ate them out. And would constantly check in on her and maybe at the some after care. - ANON

A/NOTE :: This has been re uploaded bc it wasn't showing up in tags :(

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You were sprawled out beneath Gyomei, your legs over his beefy shoulders and your head thrown back against the plushy pillow beneath your head. There was also a smaller pillow propped underneath your hips, Gyomei said that it would make it more comfy for you and it did. He always worried about your pleasure and comfort.

"G-Gyo," you whimper out as his nose bumps against your clit.

"Are you okay?" he asks, worried about how much your voice was whimpering at the small amount of contact with your most sensitive area.

You squirm under the hold Gyomei's hand on your thighs, back subtly arching into his face, wanting to indulge further in his touch. 

"Yeah," you say breathlessly.

"You'll be alright, my love," Gyomei reassures, placing soft and fluttery kisses on your stomach.

You shiver underneath the simple gestures, awaiting when he puts his tongue and fingers to use. 

"'M know, Gyo," you replied, your fingers interlacing with his short black strands. "You're jus' so big."

Gyomei lifts his head towards yours, wondering what you meant as his intent was to pleasure you on his tongue. However, he quickly realises that you were referring to how thick only one of his fingers was, and he would usually use two. A frown crosses onto his face, worried that through out all the times you tow have been intimate with each other, he had been causing you pain. 

"Have I been causing you pain, my love?" he asked worriedly.

"Wha-! No, Gyo," you replied. "It's just' you're so much sometimes, takes me so long to get used to and I finish so quick." 

You finish so quickly because of the sheer size of him.

Gyomei descends once more to your most sensitive area, your soaked cunt. "You need to tell me if I hurt you."

"You never hurt me, Gyo," you said while a shaky breath leaves your mouth.

A whimper leaves your mouth when he places a kiss on your clit and your thighs clench around his head. You attempt to arch away from the overwhelming sensation but Gyomei's grip keeps you in place. 

"G-Gyo," you moan out.

"I know, love," Gyomei reassures. "It's okay, I'm here, tell me if it's too much."

God, he was so gentle with you that it felt like you would break beneath his touch. His grasp on your thighs somewhat relaxed, giving you a tangible reassurance that you could pull away if necessary. However, he cherished it because you were so little in comparison to him and beneath him that he was afraid to shatter you.

Once more, Gyomei's nose brushes up against your delicate clit, and your grip on his hair tightened. A satisfied sigh seeps through him into your folds as a mewl from your full lips.

"Are you okay?" he asks before licking a long stripe up your folds and you moan, your back arching and your cunt pressing further into his face which he relished in. 

You whimpered before answering, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, "Yeah, 'm am, Gyo."

He loves you so intensely it hurts, and your response makes his heart sing. His tongue climbs up from your wet hole to your clit while you let out a moan. Your thighs tighten around his head as a result of his constriction, and as you grind down on his face, a moan echoes through your clit. Your lips were filled with chants of his name, and he relished every moment of it.

"Gyo, f-feels s' good," you moan, tears welling in your lash line, he was making you feel so good. 

"You're okay?" Gyomei asks.

When you feel a thick finger push past your closing walls, you furiously nod your head, your eyes expand, and you cry with delight. It felt so fantastic that you never want it to finish, even though you thought you would break because he was so huge.

His finger pressed up against that soft spot inside your walls. Gyomei was slow with his pace as he curled his fingers every time he entered your cunt, along with sucking and licking at your puffy, sensitive clit. 

"You're being so good, you're doing so well," Gyomei moans against you, refusing to rut his hips into the mattress, this was your pleasure, not his own. 

A moan arouses from you and your hips grind themselves onto his face. He let you for once have some sort of control over the situation, and he decided that if you came quicker he'll let you do it more often. "That's it," he praised.

His motions become more rapid and needy as you cry his name through broken letters, and the one hold he held on your leg tightens. Your stomach coil tightened, and your fingers wrapped around his locks to stop him from moving and make him sigh deeper into your folds.

The only thing the groans did was push you over the edge, and when he placed his tongue firmly against your clit, a quiet scream from your lips. Your stomach coil unwound, soaking his face completely.

He slowly removed his fingers from your drenched pussy, your cum spilling out from your puffy folds. Before rising his head, he places a kiss on your clit and your mewl softly in overstimulation.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks worried, kissing away the pleasure-caused tears streaming down your cheeks and the side of your face.

You hmm in peaceful contentment as he peppers gentle and soothing kisses to your face. "I am, dear," you reply.

"You did so well, you took me so well," Gyomei praises.

A mumbled thank you leaves your lips before you wrap your arms around Gyomei. "I'm s' tired," you slur out.

"I'll clean you up, don't worry," Gyomei says. "I'll wash you up."

Your eyes widen, "But what about you?"

"Giving you pleasure makes me feel more pleasured than anything," he reassures before adding, "Let's go clean up." And he picks you up to take you to the bath.

The warm steam rises from the bathwater as you and Gyomei settle into the large, wooden tub, its surface rippling gently with the movement of your bodies. The fragrant scent of lavender and eucalyptus fills the air.

Gyomei helps you ease into the bath, his strong hands guiding you gently. The water is pleasantly hot, enveloping you in a soothing embrace. As you both get comfortable, Gyomei sits behind you, his broad back against the tub’s edge, creating a space for you to lean back against him.

So warm.

He takes a soft washcloth and dips it into the warm water, wringing it out before gently placing it on your shoulders. His touch is careful, his movements deliberate as he begins to wash away any pain or soreness that you have gotten.

"You did so good for me," he murmurs, his voice a calming rumble against your ear. "I’m proud of you, you're so good."

You close your eyes, savouring the tenderness of his touch and the warmth of the water. Gyomei's hands move with care, his touch so gentle with your body, ensuring you feel safe and loved by him.

As he washes your back, he occasionally leans forward to press soft kisses to your neck and shoulders, each one causing butterflies to rise in your stomach. You can feel his breath on your skin, adding an extra layer of warmth.

After you’ve been thoroughly pampered, Gyomei carefully helps you rinse off, his hands guiding the water over your body with a steady, reassuring touch. He then takes a moment to gently brush your hair, running his fingers through it.

Once the washing is done, he wraps you in a large, fluffy towel, his movements slow as he dries you off with care. His touch is gentle, making sure every inch of your skin is dried and warm. His steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body against yours create a sense of profound peace, and you feel a deep connection with him.

"You’re my everything," he whispers, his voice filled to the brim with love. "I want to take care of you always."

You smile, resting your head on his chest, and let the soothing warmth body against you lull you to sleep in his hold, because you know that if you fall asleep, he will be there to dress you and take to to bed. And you will be safe in his arms. 

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[catboybiologist]

So.

Re: tumblr bans of transfemmes.

Let's ignore PhotoMatt for a moment. Manbaby tech CEO doubling down on a stupid decision and making himself look like more of an ass doing so is not a new phenomena.

Tumblr has consistently said, in both public statements and leaked internal communication, that they're essentially running a skeleton crew.

They keep saying that they don't have the resources to moderate, manually review posts, have any kind of appeal process, or anything. So, as people have widely received communications about, they seemed to have automated a significant portion of the moderation to operate solely on the quantity of reports (probably with a basic filter, eg quantity of reports regarding a certain post, within a certain timeframe) to automatically ban or shadowban accounts.

And so, they wipe their hands, both to the users, the public, and their own consciousness, and go about their automated operations.

All of this is likely true. Tumblr, at this point, is essentially abandonware internally, a kind of weird vanity project/dumpster ground for server infrastructure for Automattic. Likely, they don't want the bad press of "shutting down" fully. Or maybe the trickle of revenue they get here just barely exceeds operating costs, so why not keep it around?

Whatever is the case, the bans are a result of an automated process working in the background. I'm giving them some benefit of the doubt here, of course, we can't know anything for certain- but it seems like the individual bans are not based on any specific, manual action.

And that doesn't fucking excuse anything.

Because at some point, multiple people sat down at tumblr, and decided how to cut costs.

And they decided that the bare minimum of report abuse prevention was one of the first things on the chopping block.

Before the boops. Before GUI reconfigures.

They decided to cut something that is necessary to manage online communities.

They decided to cut something that ensures any targeted group will have any kind of community online.

And then, after all of that, the only manual intervention is doubling down on the shitty decisions that the automated systems make, and plucking reasons out of their ass for why they were the right decisions all along.

It's pure silicon valley brain. Blame the computer often and always. Use it to shield the active decisions you made when designing the computer that way. Treat it as a fact of life as opposed to something they actively made decisions for.

Is tumblr staff hitting the banhammer on each transfemme one by one? No.

Is tumblr staff deliberately crafting a system that allows TERFs and other conservative bigots to get rid of the "undesirables" for them? Yup. But they sure as hell are trying to not say the quiet part out loud. If they can always point the finger somewhere else, to the advertisers, to the automated systems, to the TERFs, then they can always have juuusssttt enough plausible deniability.

But being the "queerest place on the internet" requires concious acknowledgement that queer people will be targets of harassment, and you will have to protect against that.

Side note, this is why I do try to keep my blog at least somewhat SFW. Its one of the main reasons why I choose not to reblog all of the posts I'm tagged in- if the post is overtly NSFW, I've probably seen it, appreciated it, and consciously decided my level of interaction with it mostly based on how "tumblr friendly" it is. Is that bowing down to them? A little. It's also my choice. I value the community I have here. The pushes that y'all have given me gave me the strength to transition, and honestly gives me a lot of motivation to research HRT biology as much as I can, among many other things.

Yeah, I post pictures that are clearly meant to be found attractive in ways that are generally not socially acceptable , but never actual NSFW. I would like to think that I'm pretty safe from bans, but hey. Who knows. I don't want to lose my follower base, and the community around it.

And yeah, I'm gonna annoyingly remind you of the other places to find me, make sure to check my pin. If you don't know where to go, just find me on reddit and go from there, I'll post about it if anything happens.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Shadowing Nightwing: Sneak Peek 🌗

⚣🌗 A/N → y'all...find me a church—QUICKLY! also, how a sneak peek is the length of most other people's regular fics is beyond me. I've truly lost the plot. this part was originally like 7k words, and now I'm close to hitting 40k again...god help me. WARNINGS: Omegaverse Dynamics | Yandere/Obsessive Behavior |Non-Consensual/Dubious Consent | Sexual Coercion/Manipulation | Physical Aggression | Emotional Manipulation/Abuse | Objectification/Dehumanization | Breeding Kink | M-Preg | Rough Handling/Manhandling | Degrading Language | Explicit/Smut |

⚣🌗 Summary → Dick's not happy after he and Y/N's first night out as Nightwing and Shadow. And for once, Y/N's not even mad at the Alpha's invasive hands and crude language—cause everything is going according to plan.

⚣🌗 Words → 3.4K

⚣ ENJOY 🌗

As they made their way back to the Batmobile, Dick’s possessiveness was palpable. His arm was a heavy, unyielding weight around Y/N’s shoulders, not just guiding but commanding the Omega’s every step. Each stride radiated a sense of dominance that was laced with desperation—a bitter mixture of relief that Y/N had made it through the night safely and simmering frustration over yet another failed attempt to secure a lasting bond. The earlier taunts from the thugs still lingered in the back of his mind, each crude comment stoking a fire of inadequacy he couldn't extinguish.

When they reached the car, Dick yanked the door open with more force than necessary, his gaze never leaving Y/N. “In,” he commanded, voice low and strained. The word carried the weight of the night’s tension and the unfulfilled bond. It wasn’t merely about getting inside—it was about re-establishing dominance, a dominance that had slipped further out of his grasp tonight.

Once Y/N was inside, Dick followed quickly on the other, his body angrily sliding into the driver's seat. Before Y/N could even fasten his seatbelt, Dick’s hands were on him, tugging him forcefully onto his lap. Y/N landed with a startled gasp, the familiar hard planes of Dick’s chest pressing against his back as the Alpha's arms coiled around his waist. “What are you doing?” Y/N managed, his voice tinged with feigned irritation.

“You know damn well what I’m doing,” Dick growled, his voice a guttural rumble against Y/N’s ear. His scent was overwhelming—an intoxicating blend of aroused Alpha musk mixed with possessive desperation. “I don’t care what front you put on tonight; you’re still mine, and you need to be reminded.”

Y/N tried to resist the instinctual submission that the Alpha’s touch elicited, but Dick’s hand was already sliding up to his throat, fingers wrapping firmly around the column of his neck. It wasn’t a choke, but it was possessive enough to draw a shudder from Y/N. “You let them touch you,” Dick hissed, voice rough with frustrated desire. "You let them look at you like that.” His fingers moved lower, sliding down Y/N’s thigh and pressing into the soft flesh, his grip both a punishment and a twisted reassurance. “No one else should be able to leave marks on you.”

The touch was rough and deliberate, meant to stake a claim that had failed to fully take root before. Y/N’s instincts screamed submission, and his body betrayed him with a shiver, a small but undeniable response that only seemed to spur Dick’s possessiveness further. Dick’s lips brushed the shell of Y/N’s ear, his breath hot and heavy. “I should’ve fucked you right there in front of everyone. Made sure they knew exactly who you belong to.”

The words were both an expression of dominance and a confession of insecurity. Beneath the aggression, there was a raw need for reassurance that only intensified the twisted nature of their relationship. Y/N’s mind recoiled from the crude promise, but his body reacted instinctively, his hips twitching against Dick’s lap in an unconscious display of submission.

“Drive,” Dick barked at the autopilot, his voice rough with unfulfilled need. The Batmobile roared to life, speeding through the dark streets of Gotham as Dick’s hands resumed their possessive exploration. The ride back to the manor was suffocatingly silent, save for the heavy breaths that filled the cabin. Dick’s touch was frantic, driven by a desperation that bordered on madness. His grip tightened with every bump and turn, fingers digging into Y/N’s skin as if trying to force the claim deeper.

“You’re too calm,” Dick growled suddenly, his voice rough and raw, as if the words were being dragged out of him against his will. His hands tightened on Y/N’s hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a bruising force. “You shouldn’t be so calm after what just happened.”

Y/N tried to maintain his composure, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “What do you expect me to do, Dick?” he asked, his tone low but edged with defiance. “Break down? Beg for your forgiveness?”

Dick’s jaw clenched, a muscle in his neck twitching with barely restrained anger. “No,” he snapped, his voice thick with a mix of possessiveness and desperation. “I want you to react—to feel something other than lust when I touch you.”

And that’s when Y/N saw it, the insecurity that had been eating away at Dick’s confidence for months, perhaps even years. It was the kind of vulnerability that would have made Y/N pity him in another life, but here, in the suffocating grip of Dick’s obsession, it was just another tool of manipulation—a reminder of how twisted their dynamic had become.

The vulnerability stung Y/N with a twisted kind of satisfaction. “You know, if you'd just gotten pregnant like you were supposed to, we’d be celebrating our baby’s birth right now,” Dick continued bitterly, his words both an accusation and a confession of failure. “But you… you keep fighting it. You keep making this harder than it has to be.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the cruel irony. It wasn’t that his body couldn’t accept Dick’s bond; it was that it wouldn’t. Every fiber of his being rejected the Alpha’s claim, repulsed by the suffocating nature of Dick’s obsession. And yet, here he was, being blamed for something that was beyond his control.

“Maybe if you were more cooperative, we’d already have a child by now,” Dick pressed, his voice laced with condescending anger. “But no… you keep resisting.”

“Or maybe,” Y/N retorted quietly, “it’s because you’re trying to force it. My body knows better than to accept a bond that isn’t real.”

Dick’s reaction was immediate. He yanked Y/N closer, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of the Omega’s inner thighs, right where the sexual glands lay. “Is that so?” he growled. “Then why does your body react to me like this?”

The vulnerability in his voice was unnerving, a stark contrast to the dominant persona he usually projected. Y/N could sense the desperation bleeding through the cracks, the fear that perhaps he really wasn’t enough—wasn’t strong enough, Alpha enough, to claim the one thing he wanted most. The failed attempts to impregnate Y/N weren’t just a personal failure; they were a direct blow to Dick’s sense of identity as an Alpha, a constant reminder of his inadequacy.

“Do you even realize what it’s like?” Dick muttered, his voice rough with suppressed emotion as he pressed his forehead against the back of Y/N’s neck. “To know that any Alpha—especially Leo—could probably do what I can’t? They could knock you up, make you smell like theirs, and have you submitting in no time.”

The mention of Leo sent a jolt through Y/N. He knew Leo was one of the few people Dick saw as a serious threat, both in terms of Y/N’s escape plans and as a rival Alpha. Leo’s interest in Y/N was no secret, and Dick’s paranoia about the possibility of another Alpha succeeding where he had failed had only grown worse over time. It was a twisted cocktail of jealousy, insecurity, and possessiveness that fueled Dick’s increasingly erratic behavior.

Y/N didn’t respond, knowing any attempt to explain would only fuel Dick’s rage further. The Alpha’s possessiveness was suffocating, and the fact that he was aware of it—aware of how his insecurities were slowly driving him mad—only made it worse.

“It’s like you want them to think they have a chance,” Dick growled, his voice thick with frustration. “Like you’re inviting it. Do you enjoy taunting me, baby? Do you get off on knowing that I can’t hold onto you the way I’m supposed to?”

The accusation stung, not because it was entirely false, but because it touched on a deeper truth that Y/N wasn’t ready to confront. The twisted satisfaction of knowing he could still provoke Dick, still maintain some semblance of control, was a dangerous game—a game that risked his sanity as much as it did his safety.

His fingers pressed hard into the glands, triggering a rush of slick and a faint release of scent that mixed with Dick’s own. The sexual bond was temporary, but it was a small victory that Dick was desperate to secure. “You know what’s driving me mad?” Dick’s voice was low, filled with a bitter desperation that was almost painful to hear. “It’s that no one can smell my claim on you.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the raw truth in Dick’s words. For the Alpha, this wasn’t just about marking territory—it was about reclaiming a sense of identity that had been shattered by repeated failures. “You don’t smell like me,” Dick continued, his fingers pressing harder against Y/N’s thighs, as if trying to force the bond to sink deeper. “No matter how many times I mark you, no matter how many times I knot you, shoot every last drop of my cum inside you, it doesn't fucking work. Why the fuck doesn't it work? It’s like your body rejects me.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in his chest, the mixture of humiliation and twisted satisfaction warring within him. He knew he should be disgusted by the words, by the crude reminder of Dick’s failed attempts to make him submit completely. But there was also a small, defiant part of him that reveled in the fact that he had managed to resist—managed to hold on to a small piece of himself, even in the face of such overwhelming pressure.

His hands slid higher, fingers pressing into the sensitive sexual glands on Y/N’s inner thighs—glands that were meant to carry the Alpha’s scent, to reinforce the temporary bond they shared. “These should be dripping with my scent,” Dick murmured, his voice rough and desperate. “You should be drenched in it, so no one can question who you belong to. But instead, all they can smell is your own fucking scent, like you're not even claimed at all. Like I haven't soiled you, haven't made you cry on my knot at least a hundred times, so every Alpha out there knows not to even look at you.”

Y/N bit his lip, the sensation of Dick’s fingers pressing into the glands both painful and arousing. The sexual bond was the easiest to establish but also the easiest to break, a temporary connection that had to be reinforced constantly. It was a cruel reminder of the limits of Dick’s control—a bond that could be formed in moments but would fade within days if not maintained.

“You know what that makes me feel like?” Dick muttered darkly. “It makes me feel like a weak Alpha, like someone who can’t even claim his own Omega.”

The confession was a stark display of vulnerability, a glimpse into the crumbling facade of Dick’s dominance. His voice trembled with both anger and self-loathing as he continued to grind his hips against Y/N’s ass.

Y/N’s eyes flickered with defiance, but he kept his voice level. “So, you think forcing a temporary bond will fix that?”

Dick’s response was a low, desperate growl, his grip tightening further. “I’ll reinforce it every damn day if I have to,” he promised. “You’ll never be able to wash my scent off you again. I'll make sure everyone knows you're mine, whether you like it or not. If it takes me filling you up until you can't take anymore, until you're dripping with my cum and screaming my name, I'll do it."

The words were a twisted blend of threat and promise, a dark reminder of the power Dick held over Y/N. His hands moved higher, sliding under the tight fabric of the suit and cupping the Omega's breasts. "No one else can have you. Not as long as I've got something to say about it. I'll make you come so hard, you'll forget anyone else ever touched you," he hissed, his voice a low, possessive growl.

The words were crude, filled with a brutal kind of determination that made Y/N’s body shudder involuntarily. The Batmobile’s engine continued to hum beneath them, the vibrations only adding to the suffocating tension in the air.

“You can try,” Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the Batmobile’s engine. “But you’ll never truly have me.”

Dick’s response was a low, frustrated growl, his grip tightening once more as he buried his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, inhaling deeply. The scent was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to temporarily soothe the twisted sense of inadequacy that had been gnawing at him for months.

“I’ll find a way,” he muttered, his voice filled with a dark, unrelenting determination. “I don’t care how long it takes or how many times I have to do this. I will make you mine, Y/N. One way or another.”

The threat hung in the air, heavy and ominous, as the Batmobile continued its journey through the dark streets of Gotham. And as the Batmobile's interior was suffused with a heavy, oppressive heat, the tension between the two heightened by the confined space. Dick’s hands continued their invasive exploration, his fingers teasing the slickened creases beneath Y/N’s suit. Each touch was a precise mix of stimulation and dominance, crafted to reinforce his claim. Y/N’s scent subtly shifted in response, becoming softer and more yielding—a reaction his body betrayed despite the rebellion in his mind.

Y/N’s hips began to move unconsciously, instinctively grinding back against Dick’s unmistakble bulge. It wasn’t a deliberate action—more a desperate attempt to alleviate the unbearable friction building inside him. As he pressed against Dick, he could feel the Alpha’s body beneath him in even greater detail. The solid muscles were unmistakable, the strength beneath the suit palpable and unyielding.

Dick's uniform always did a great job emphasizing every contour of his athletic form. His broad shoulders were squared and thick, muscles bulging beneath the tightly fitted armor. The emblem of the blue Nightwing stretched across his chest, accentuating the pectoral muscles that stood firm like sculpted stone. Beneath the material, Y/N could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of Dick’s chest, the heat radiating from his body overwhelming, both physically and mentally. His own throbbing phallus member twitched against the tight material of his suit, each jolt of friction sending him closer to the edge of surrender.

Dick felt it, his possessive growl vibrating against Y/N’s neck. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice dark and filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. “I can feel how much you want this, how much your body needs it.”

The words were humiliating, yet undeniably true. Y/N’s scent began to shift subtly, the undertones becoming softer, more yielding—a physiological response to the Omega's instinctual need for protection, for the Alpha’s claim, even as his mind rebelled against the situation. It was a betrayal of the worst kind, a stark reminder of how deeply ingrained the dynamics of their relationship were, no matter how much he fought against it.

Dick’s muscles were hard and unyielding, his physique built for agility, speed, and raw power. His biceps strained against the suit’s sleeves as he adjusted Y/N’s position, the movement causing his traps and deltoids to flex noticeably. His arms were thick, defined with corded muscle that spoke to both the brutality of his training and the relentlessness of his desire to dominate.

“I can feel how much you want this,” Dick whispered into Y/N’s ear, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. His hands continued to explore, one settling possessively on Y/N’s hip, the grip firm and claiming. The action pressed Y/N’s ass harder against Dick’s prominent bulge, emphasizing the unmistakable hardness pressing into the Omega’s lower back. Y/N’s small Omega cock twitched helplessly, trapped and pressed painfully against the roughness of the suit’s fabric.

Dick’s torso was as solid as granite, the defined abs beneath the suit shifting slightly with every thrust and movement. His lat muscles flared out in a V-shape from his waist, a physical symbol of his dominance, enhanced by the snug fit of his armor. Each movement was powerful and deliberate, emphasizing the sheer physicality of the Alpha that Y/N was helplessly pinned against.

“Say it,” Dick demanded, his voice edged with desperation and authority. “Say you’re mine.”

Y/N’s body ached, every nerve on fire from the mix of scent-marking, sexual dominance, and psychological warfare that defined their twisted relationship. Despite everything—despite the way his body trembled and his Omega instincts screamed for submission—his mind held on, clinging to the small spark of defiance that remained. “You wish,” he finally managed, his voice a ragged whisper, laced with both defiance and the slightest hint of resignation.

Dick’s response was immediate. He let out a low, frustrated growl, his hand tightening on Y/N’s thigh as he adjusted the Omega’s position. He pulled Y/N closer, forcing him to straddle the Alpha more securely, the new angle causing Y/N’s ass to grind harder against Dick’s bulging erection. The motion was both humiliating and electrifying, the friction against Y/N’s slickened slits adding a layer of unbearable pleasure that blurred the lines between defiance and desire.

“If you won’t say it,” Dick muttered darkly, his breath hot against Y/N’s ear, “then I’ll just have to make you.”

The ride back was a dizzying blur of aggressive touches and scent-marking, Dick’s fingers relentless as they sought to reinforce a bond that had yet to fully form. By the time the Batmobile pulled into the Batcave, Y/N’s body was trembling with both exhaustion and arousal, his inner walls clenching around the phantom presence of Dick’s touch.

As they came to a stop, Dick wasted no time. With a single, powerful motion, he lifted Y/N off his lap and swung him over his broad shoulder. The Omega’s body landed with a helpless flop, his face pressed against the curve of Dick’s back. Y/N’s senses were filled with the scent of the Alpha’s sweat and pheromones, the overwhelming aroma intensifying his body’s instinctual response.

Dick’s broad back was like a wall, firm and unyielding beneath Y/N’s chest as he struggled to regain some semblance of control. The prominent ridges of his spine were visible even through the suit, each bump accentuated by the strain of carrying the Omega. The muscles of his back rippled with every step, showcasing the powerful definition of his lats and traps. His narrow waist contrasted sharply with the bulk of his shoulders, highlighting the impressive strength that kept Y/N slung helplessly over him.

The Batcave loomed ahead as Dick strode inside, Y/N slung over his broad shoulder like a victorious trophy. The Omega’s body was limp, his breathing uneven from the rough handling and overwhelming mix of arousal and resentment. Every muscle in Dick’s frame was taut with dominance, his biceps bulging and flexing as he kept a secure grip around Y/N’s thighs. The stark lighting of the cave highlighted the rigid contours of Dick’s back and shoulders, the layers of his suit stretching over the powerful muscles beneath. His defined traps flared with each purposeful step, accentuating the sense of strength that surrounded Y/N.

Without pausing or glancing back, Dick’s voice rumbled low, the words dripping with raw possession. “Tonight, you’ll reek of me inside and out. And soon, everyone will know who you belong to.”

The words were a promise and a threat, echoing through the dim expanse of the cave like a verdict sealed in darkness. Dick’s gaze remained focused straight ahead, his face set with grim determination. The intensity of his forward march was matched only by the single-minded need etched into every line of his body—a need that spoke of a relentless desire to claim Y/N again and again, until there was no question of his ownership.

Despite the oppressive heat and the heavy dominance radiating from Dick, Y/N allowed himself a small, defiant smile. The road ahead was bound to be darker and more dangerous, but tonight marked a crucial victory. He had managed to pass the first test, and as the cavernous space of the Batcave swallowed them, Y/N knew that the game was far from over—it was only just beginning.

GET ME TO A CHURCH!

[sttoru]

♯ 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

⟣ sypnosis. kento has been extremely busy lately, going on business trips and so forth. he decides to surprise you by coming back earlier than expected. that’s how you end up finding your lover on top of you, showering you in his affection at 3 in the morning.

⟣ tags. nanami kento x female reader. fluff, bit of angst, suggestive towards the end. reader gets called 'sweetheart, angel, dear' wc: 1.8k

⟣ note. okayokay finally an adition to my event heheh ive almost forgotten about it but then i saw this prompt & was like . ok nanami , i must write this rnnn no delaying anymore so here i am :3 its also very bad. i hate it sm LOL i hope u at least like it t_t

kento often asks himself why he had returned to the world he despised — the jujutsu society; his old high school. the sprawling curses everywhere are the main cause of his current misery.

he had been sent out on missions left and right, not catching a break in hopes of reducing any more civilian causalities than necessary. kento had even thought that maybe his previous 9-5 job wasn’t as bad as he had considered it.

overtime was every day for the sorcerer now. that wasn’t the worst thing - no - the fact that he was pratically living a long distant relationship with his beloved irritated him most.

a thought he had in his high school days reoccured in a moment of distress: ‘why not leave all those missions to gojo?’

you were still pretty understanding of his situation. kento appreciated that, though the guilt still ate away at him whenever he tried to sleep. an empty bed welcomed him each time he re-entered his hotel room — you saw the exact same scenery when returning home to your shared apartment.

both of you were adults; both knowing that life was unfair. the two of you being unable to see each other from time to time was a part of your life. kento and you still maintained a healthy relationship. that was all that really mattered in the end.

11:49PM. . . tonight wasn’t unlike any other night; you were preparing yourself to go to bed—changing into your pyjamas after showering, snuggling to a pillow under the covers and texting your lover one last message.

‘good luck on your mission as always! stay safe, i love you.’

you stare at your phone screen for a minute longer than intended. even if you tried to be mature about it — you longed for kento’s warmth and undivided attention. you want him with you, his strong arms holding you to his chest as you rest, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

you sigh defeatedly and put your phone down on your nightstand. just two days until you could see your partner again. you can hold onto that hope to keep you calm.

despite you trying to stay positive, you tossed and turned in your bed as you thought about kento’s safety. there was always a chance of him not coming home to you — always the possibility of that bed to be empty for the rest of your life.

all you could do was pray for his safety in your head whilst your eyes eventually closed from fatigue, your mind drifting off to a deep slumber.

03:14AM. . . kento opens the door he had wished to have opened way earlier. the door that lead to the place where his heart lays; the person who claimed his heart and soul for eternity. you.

he didn’t think he’d actually do it. kento had originally planned to finish his last job as soon as possible and then get home afterwards, but there seemed to be a change in routine.

the special grade sorcerer simply assigned the mission to ino — the person whom he could trust most to finish the job in one piece. as much as kento dislikes to put his juniors in possible risky situations, there are also situations where it’s fine to depend on them. besides, the mission could easily be done by a grade one sorcerer.

kento sighs. the familiar scent of your home was one he could recognise from miles away. one that could calm his nerves instantly. it was that same distinctive scent you carry; thus why your lover sometimes calls you his home.

‘i can’t wait to be home’ ‘i want to be home’ ‘i’m going home’ — all these sentences, which kento has uttered before in earlier conversations, weren’t referring to a place. rather to a person he held dear.

“oh, my sweetheart.” the blonde man whispers under his breath as his eyes catch the shape of your figure under the blankets. he quietly enters the master bedroom and closes the door behind him, not making a sound as to not interrupt your well-deserved sleep.

kento slowly undoes his dotted tie, along with the upper buttons of his blouse. he probably needs to go take a good shower before he could settle down with you — but that’d risk waking you up.

you look extremely angelic in his eyes. especially with your left cheek squished by the soft pillow your head rests on. you never once fail to convince him that you are indeed the woman of his dreams; the woman kento ever had and will have eyes for. it’s like you get more attractive to him as the days go on.

“mh,” your sudden and soft groan makes him realise just how disturbing his behaviour could be interpreted as. kento’s body was hovering over your sleeping one and he was just. . . staring at you with a soft smile. a smile which he didn’t even notice had permanently found its place on his weary face.

kento sits down on the edge of the mattress, callused hand gently tucking you in properly, putting the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you didn’t get cold. he can’t rest if you’re not comfortable— even if he himself was exhausted to the point his eyes were starting to feel heavy.

yet that exhaustion doesn’t last long. it never does when kento’s able to see you again after a tiring week of countless missions and other jobs. your presence alone grants him the energy to stay awake and take care of you. and himself. you’re the reason he keeps it going.

“i love you so much, my beautiful girl — my angel.”

kento sure was a romantic. even when you’re unaware and asleep.

he couldn’t help it; the feeling stirring inside of him. the feeling of adoration and love for you. you are simply resting, yet kento felt an urge to kiss you all over, show you the unending love he has for you. but. . that’d probably be disturbing your peace. you are sleeping after all. he

not that that would stop kento.

your eyes flutter open due to a sudden presence hovering over you. your entire face and neck area was feeling ticklish, like someone was placing tens of kisses all over the skin.

strands of blonde hair is the first thing showing up in your blurry vision. kento’s face follows afterwards as his head tilts back up, the warmth against your jawline disappearing along with it —

“ah, i’m sorry.” a low and almost guilty chuckle tumbles out of his sore throat. the visible confusion on your face makes him let out another, “shh, shh, it’s just me, sweetheart.”

your arms flew around kento’s torso the second the realisation dawns upon you. your heart went from a slow pace to one that caused your entire body to warm up immediately; the adorable reaction and increase in heart rate not going unnoticed by your lover.

you wordlessly hug him — almost still in shock by the sudden appearance. kento doesn’t fight off your tight embrace, instead, welcomes it with open arms. the delicate kisses on your skin continue, each being placed with precision whilst one of his hands keeps your head tilted a little — rough fingers being a contrast of the gentle grip they had on your jaw.

“i missed you lots,” kento murmurs, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of your body, his lips refusing to let go of your neck, “i couldn’t wait anymore. i couldn’t be separated from you any longer or i’d lose it.”

his gruff voice sounded even deeper than it usually would. maybe due to the overuse of it during his missions. the lone thought makes you pout — the thought of kento working super hard just to provide for you both.

“i missed you more, love.” you mumble, bottom lip trembling a little as kento’s hug triggers a whole lot of emotions in you. his hugs were special, his muscular arms giving you a sense of comfort you couldn’t find anywhere. no one could hug you like he did, “you did well. you did so well.”

those were all the words kento needed. his lips come to halt right above your collarbone, his breath a bit heavy from how much he's holding himself back from doing more. one hand moves from your cheek to your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt.

“thank you, dear.” kento says. his words carrying a load of unending affection. your simple words of appreciation and encouragement makes him shiver in delight. this is what he longed for; this is what he did it all for.

it was clear. the answer to his question - of why he had returned to the jujutsu world, to become a teacher at his former high school - it was all for you. to be able to be with you, see you and hold you like this. to have someone like you appreciate all of his efforts.

“may i?” kento asks through a quiet whisper as he gently removes the blanket covering your figure, his eyes darting down towards your cleavage. he's asking for permission to cross that barrier — to cover you in the love you deserve.

you just stare at the blonde man above you for a second. you watch as he climbs onto the bed with you; the bed which was once empty and dull, now suddenly becoming your favourite place to be at. your fingertips graze against kento's sharp cheekbones. a habit you always did when you were appreciating his looks.

“go right ahead.” you answer with a confirming nod.

both of you were touch starved and had been deprived from each other's embrace for way too long. now was the perfect time to make up for all the time lost.

kento wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip past him. he smiles at you, a gentle and handsome smile, whilst a few of his blonde locks fall over his left eye — his hands already prying away the blanket covering your shape. it was time to show you just how much he has longed for you.

“hold on to me, sweetheart. i’m not stopping until you realise just how much i’ve missed all of you.”

[cocodotgreen]

Simynthos - (almost) cc-free

With all testing done I am happy to share with you the (almost) cc-free version of Simynthos today! I was actually surprised by how quickly it could be transformed, and I have to say I'm very happy with how it turned out!

For this version I removed all decorative cc. The only cc you now need for full functionality are the rabbit hole rugs. The lots are so small, there wouldn't have been nearly enough room for the in game rabbit holes. The rabbit hole rugs can be downloaded here.

I still recommend using the performance mods from the original post here, just to make things a little more smooth and enjoyable during gameplay. But they are not strictly necessary. You could also go completely vanilla (more on that below).

There are a couple of things to note:

Some of the double beds are placed against a wall and therefore only one sim can sleep in them now. You can replace them with the one sided beds for two sims, the ones I used in the original version, if you like. The mattresses by sketchbook pixels can be found here, and some nice custom bed frames from @aroundthesims can be found here.

I did make use of @omedapixel's S3DT (Sims 3 Decorator Tool) in two or three places, just to place decorative items on surfaces where they cannot be placed in a vanilla game. You do NOT need the mod for these items to stay in place, as long as you don't move them when redecorating. Then they may slip back into normal mode and you will only be able to place them back with the mod. But it's only in a couple of places, so even if that happens, it will not have a significant impact on your game.

Replacing some of the cc did result in some interactive items not being usable at first, but I hope I caught all of those cases during the (quite extensively 😉) play-testing. So now all interactive items should be usable. If you find any place where an item can't be reached by the sims, please notify me and I will update the world.

How does it run?

I have tested this version of Simynthos in two scenarios: With the routing optimization mods I recommended for the original version (that's the save all the screenshots are from 😉), but also in a completely vanilla game, playing just a small family with one child, and it actually ran pretty well on my gaming laptop, even without any routing improvement mods (my game is optimized though)! If you're going completely vanilla, it may get a bit annoying in some places though, with sims not being able to pass each other, and toddlers not being able to be put down on the ground due to lack of space. But if you do not want to use any mods at all, it would probably still be playable with a small household that doesn't host huge parties 😉

Thanks again to the creators who have made this world possible:

Thanks to @nilxis, the creator of „Sa Pineda“, for the beautiful base to this world. The island on which Simynthos was build is entirely their creation. I did not change the island itself or the terrain painting outside the lots (except for some places where I placed the walkways/paths). All credit for that goes to them! You can find the original version here. Also make sure to check out their other worlds, while you‘ re at it. They are some of my favorite worlds!

Thanks to @nornities for their extremely helpful CAW guide here. Unfortunately I only found this guide when Simynthos was almost finished. I could have avoided some of the mistakes I made, had I found it sooner!

Some of you may know, that I am not the first to make a Greek version of Sa Pineda. Back in 2016 Vendela created Simtorini. This super cute world has the typical blue and white houses another Greek island, Santorini, is famous for. Go check it out here.

Download Simynthos (almost) cc-free (SimFileShare)

Alternative Download (Dropbox)

Link to original post for Simynthos (version with cc)

[actual-changeling]

Season One meta posts in 2024? Yes, very much so. We need more of that.

Will this be slightly unhinged? Yeah, probably, so welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner.

Everyone has probably connected the kiss back to the wall-slam scene in Tadfield Manor by now, but while I was re-watching it for the nth time and combing through it frame by frame like a mentally sane person, I realised just how orchestrated it was from beginning to end.

I assume we can agree that Aziraphale called Crowley nice on purpose to get a hint of intimacy out of him, but I think this time it is very different from the other instances during which he reacts with anger to being called nice.

My first main observation is the way Aziraphale positions himself.

We pick up after Crowley's explanation about the non-lethal shooting happening outside, and they are facing each other at an angle, with Aziraphale having stopped a few steps behind him.

Now, until the slam itself, Crowley doesn't move, he remains where he is, waiting. (We'll come back to that in a bit)

However, instead of remaining at a safe distance or standing literally standing anywhere else, he walks a small curve to then stop right in front of Crowley. Not at his side or a little bit away or at a respectable distance—no, right in his face. You can judge his position by looking at the wooden door (?) in the background.

The following camera position makes it hard to see the amount of distance between their faces, but we know that he must be close enough so that Crowley can immediately grab his coat without problem.

Excuse my art skills, but just to make sure everyone is on the same page, have a little drawing showing their positions and movements.

Now, that manoeuvring takes Aziraphale a few seconds, and what does he do? He stalls. Look at what exactly he tells Crowley:

You know, Crowley, I've always said that, deep down, you are quite a nice—

There are a lot more words than necessary! He could have shortened that sentence but he didn't, and on top of that, if you listen to him say it, he makes two noticeable pauses, one after 'Crowley with a little look outside, one after 'that'. By then he has reached his final position, so no more stalling, he can try to finish his sentence now.

Alex, you might say now, of course Aziraphale did it on purpose, but Crowley only reacted to what he said.

And to that I respond, nope, he was 100% in on it.

I know because when Aziraphale stops in front of him, he waits. He does not move, he doesn't shut him up even though he has heard the same spiel hundreds of times—no, he is waiting and allowing Aziraphale to initiate their little game.

This face is not the face of someone who is already angry or confused about which words will tumble out of Aziraphale's mouth. He even arches his eyebrow in a motion that I personally interpret as 'go on'.

Crowley is listening and waiting for the signal, and the moment Aziraphale says 'nice', he grabs him and pushes him up against the opposite wall. It's an extraordinarily quick reaction, the kind you have when you know you're about to act and what you'll do.

Some further evidence that the entire moment was orchestrated by the two of them.

Aziraphale stretches out his arms behind him to brace himself against the wall, he was expecting to be moved that way and intentionally put himself into a position that would allow Crowley to do so.

Additionally, by grabbing his lapels the way he does, Crowley can make sure that the back of his head doesn't hit the wall. If you watch the clip by yourself and slow it down, you'll discover that Aziraphale gently rests it against the wall on his own while Crowley is talking.

Aziraphale is completely relaxed not only because he knows Crowley would never hurt him, but also because this entire thing is a game that they willingly participate in. It is dangerously under-negotiated, sure; luckily they more or less agree on the ground rules.

Obligatory close-up with the noise squish because I am a blorbo connoisseur and not a heathen. The little eye gaze at the lips, and if you ask me, and this is my post so you ARE asking me, Crowley is very much looking at Aziraphale's lips from behind his glasses.

But I have one more observation to make!

I could never quite put my finger on why exactly the scene felt off, but now I am convinced it's because despite the act, Crowley isn't actually upset. There ARE times when Aziraphale actively crosses a boundary and endangers him with his compliments, but this is not one of them. The growling, him baring his teeth, the fact that he is pressing their entire bodies together, him leaning in thar far, and also what the FUCK is he saying?

The excerpt from the script books:

First part okay, I can buy that, a bit basic but alright. But 'nice is a four letter word'? Where exactly was he going with that and how was that sentence going to end? It's close enough to the topic to pass as real for any outsider who might overhear them, but if you actually listen and try to comprehend it—yeah, no, he was about to go full gibberish.

The goal wasn't to yell at Aziraphale about calling him nice, it was all about prolonging the physical intimacy by holding a monologue.

If you still don't believe me, have a look at their faces when they get interrupted.

Crowley has a "whot?" expression on his face and not a single hint of anger or annoyance. Aziraphale has an expression I will lovingly call "perish you peasant and let my demon husband slam me against a wall in peace".

If someone gave you only this picture—no context, nothing—what would you assume they were doing before someone rudely interrupted them? Based on what the fuck is happening on their faces and the complete lack of distance between their bodies, you'd probably assume they were snogging each other senseless.

Which they were, in a way, just without the lip contact.

I rest my case.

[bethanydelleman]

Re: the first name discussion

You mentioned that Mrs. Bennet called Mr. Bennet that even in family circles - so I was wondering how exactly did the rules work and how flexible were they? Was it okay to call your husband by his first name in front of family but not in front of people who were not family? I also notice (although this is my own observation) that men are way more likely to call their wives by their first names in public, than the women are. In Emma for example Knightly calls her Emma all the time (though that is understandable since he knew her as a kid), and Mr. Elton also calls Mrs. Elton Augusta in front of everyone. Also I understood that there was a sort of heirarchy to who could call whom by their first name: like Mrs. Elton could call Jane by her first name but Jane could not do the same. Frank says something in his letter like it frustrated him to see her name "bandiyed between them with imagined superiority" (I'm quoting from memory sorry if I get it a little wrong) Do you think there was some sort of gender heirarchy in play as well as men can take their wives first names easily but vice versa not so much ?

Okay, so the Reading Jane Austen podcast has discussed this and I've noticed myself while reading, but it seems like the rules probably changed over the course of Jane Austen's writing career and there seems to be generational differences as well. This is acknowledged in the preface of Northanger Abbey:

But with this, neither the author nor the public have any other concern than as some observation is necessary upon those parts of the work which thirteen years have made comparatively obsolete. The public are entreated to bear in mind that thirteen years have passed since it was finished, many more since it was begun, and that during that period, places, manners, books, and opinions have undergone considerable changes.

For example, we never hear Mr. or Mrs. Bennet's first names because they never use them. Mr. Bennet uses "dear" or "Mrs. Bennet" even when only his children are present, Mrs. Bennet calls him "Mr. Bennet." However, the younger Mary Musgrove in Persuasion calls her husband "Charles" all the time and he calls her "Mary". I think this may be generational, and I once stopped reading a JAFF because Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner were referring to each other by last name only (which isn't confirmed or denied I think in Austen, I don't know a scene where two old men of equal status talk to each other, but it felt wrong to me).

Up until Pride & Prejudice, women refer to men by only their last name after knowing them, "Willoughby" "Wickham" "Bingley," but that stops by Mansfield Park. Emma is appalled that Mrs. Elton calls Mr. Knightley by only his last name, but this may be about familiarity and rank (little and lower). Emma calls Harriet "Harriet" while she always says "Miss Woodhouse," which is clearly about rank. Mrs. Elton does a similar dynamic with Jane Fairfax which is less justified (Mrs. Elton is from trade, Jane is gentry, and their disparity isn't as wide as Emma/Harriet).

Family can use first names (Marianne Dashwood calls Edward Ferrars "Edward" because they are in-laws) and Edmund calls Fanny "Fanny" (she avoids calling him "Edmund" probably because she loves him and wants to create distance, usually calls him "cousin") Female friends use first names, male friends last names.

But yeah, I think that even over the course of Jane Austen's publishing, the rules changed and they aren't super clear, so I can't fully answer your question.

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “P.I., actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked. 

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.” 

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

[the-once-ler-in-superjail]

CHAPTER 36: The Asylum - Part 2

Finally here, sorry this one took so long, we both got really busy this time but it's here!

Lineart/cleanup, flats & writing- @wiggybe

Layout/roughs, shading/lighting & writing- @self-made-madman

(TW: Mental illness/health/asylums.)

PART2

Once-ler: *He holds the Warden in his arms, relieved to have another moment alone with him, knowing that they're going to get out of here and that people are following his orders. At least he can have his glasses, they're just glasses, prisoners get to wear their glasses because they're visually impaired, this should be no different. He sniffs and wipes his tears with his hand, whispering.* I love you too. *Kisses the Warden's head and sighs out, hooking his chin over his head and bundling him up in his arms.* You're going to be okay, we- we're going to get you out. *He can't let him down.*

Warden: *His eyes shut, and as he floats in the vague numbness of what's been done to him, he absorbs all of Oncie's love, the feeling of his arms, the scent of his clothes and the way his voice vibrates through his chest. It helps to calm him, more than anything else ever could, but there's an instinctive part of him ready to have it all ripped away.*

Dr. Zazzerzump: *She strides straight into the room and states in a simple, curt voice.* Mr. Once-ler. *She has the air of a headteacher who won't be suffering nonsense, but because she isn't a blustering, loud older man, and hasn't brought the chaos of a crowd with her, she doesn't cause the same flinching reaction in the Warden as everything else. To him, this is just one more thing to trust Oncie to handle for him.*

Once-ler: *Pulls his head back from his boyfriend and looks over to the new doctor walking into the room. He knows this lady to be the woman in charge here. Good, that means he can sort this out properly rather than having to slap drones around. He doesn't get up though; he won't leave Edmund unless it's necessary, and he doesn't care how he looks holding him. If anything it only shows that he means the man no harm and that they do share a relationship.* Hm. *His eyes meet hers and he lets out an acknowledging grunt.* Doctor... *He looks her up and down as for a moment her name escapes him, but he does know all the names in charge of his cities' institutions.* Doctor Zazzerzump. *That's the one. He frowns, glancing around at the other nurses as they follow in behind her as if he's pretending to wonder where the Warden's glasses are, like he's making a point. Two male doctors join also, including Snickberry-Shoo, who all keep their distance.* Thank you. I requested the nurses bring this man’s glasses to me, where are they?

Dr. Zazzerzump: *Her eyes flit to the way the Once-ler is holding the patient only once, to take in the information and judge it. It's inappropriate, maybe, but it is proof that they know each other. Or proof that the patient has been so well-drugged that he doesn't know what's happening. Well, the Once-ler is a sane man, so it's presumably the first one. And yet, policy is policy for a reason.* The patient is in here because he proved to be a danger to himself and others. We can arrange for his glasses to be reconsidered, but he cannot have them back just because you asked... *She searches for a word that isn't rude.* 'nicely'. I will have the administrators put in a request, and he will be re-evaluated for his tendencies.

Warden: *He curls tighter, pushing his bare face against the Once-ler's chest so he doesn't have to see the world without his filter.*

Once-ler: *Feels a spike of adrenaline in his chest when he's refused, the thought of having to wait making his frustration build all over again.* That's not soon enough. Can't you make an exception?! Look at him, he needs them. Even prisoners don't have their own glasses confiscated. What could be so bad about him having his when I can supervise?

Dr. Zazzerzump: They could break - he could break them - and then we have glass shards, sharp wire, and an unpredictable man in the same room. The hospital would be liable if any harm came to either of you, even - *she anticipates the potential solution he might offer* if you were to sign a waiver. I'm afraid your friend must follow the rules like everyone else in the secure wing - no special treatment. But we can have him seen by our resident optician if necessary.

Once-ler: You’re already causing harm to him by treating him like this. *Breathes in a sharp, frustrated breath as he clutches onto Edmund harder. He knew these were the reasons. He doesn't care. Edmund is more dangerous to himself without the glasses. Besides, it’s not like he isn’t already drugged up to his eyeballs, bound in a straight-jacket, and not being watched over by a sensible and powerful man.* Don't you have security cameras here for the same reason? Just keep a closer eye on him for god sake! *He knows that what he's asking is exactly special treatment, but why shouldn't he? Parole exists so that those facing trial can pay to be in a comfortable environment while they wait. He raises an eyebrow.* I'll sign whatever the hell you like, if any harm came to either of us I'd take that responsibility on myself and see to it that no repercussions fall on the hospitals reputation. I can do that. *He tilts his head to the other side, frowning harder.* On the other hand, however, I can't promise the same should my requests be refused. *Hisses as one hand releases Edmund to slip into an inner pocket inside his jacket to fine his cheque book.* Fuck sake, how much do you want for them? *Looks at her like she just personally hurt him* He’s not dangerous, not with me and not right now, look at him. I’ll pay you extra if we could just arrange to have him monitored so that he can have what he really nee-

Dr. Zazzerzump: I cannot be bought, Mr. Once-ler. *As corruptible as the bribe of money can make people, sometimes those with the a more selfish agenda than just greed can be more malicious.* *She doesn’t care for money, she cares for maintaining an old archaic institute that she holds power over. Taking small wins, keeping control over anyone in her immediate vicinity, and insisting on her old fashioned ideals. And it just so happens the vulnerable patients in this place make those objectives a lot easier. She remains totally unmoved, as cold as steel, although she does for a moment feel a skip in her chest at the thought of more money towards their operations here. Still, she will have no preferential treatment for the wealthy or connected, even if the town's founder himself starts writing a check. She doesn’t quite realise that anyone, poor or wealthy, known or noone, would be willing to give up everything in their possession for the people they love. She holds a fundamental belief, a false ‘moral’ virtue about herself, that those of the mentally impaired are a danger to be hidden rather than human beings to be treated, despite having little to no modern research supporting her biases. There is no grey area that could suggest that the pain of others might warrant an empathetic reconsideration of the ‘rules’, she just holds onto these old ideas being ‘correct’. It’s as if Thneedville, and the people in it, are a product of a time where mindsets like this were the modern standards.* As I said, we cannot sign our duty of care away.

Warden: *He shifts, yielding as easily as a doe when Oncie's hand releases him to pull out his cheque book, but never stops gripping onto him. It's all going over his head, whoever that voice belongs to. Oncie is fighting a battle above the surface of the water while he sinks down below, and all he can do to avoid going (further) mad with fright is to hold on and make sure he never leaves him by himself. Right now the world is very simple - everything outside of their arms wants to hurt him or worse, abandon him to his own mind. Everything inside their arms is safe and loves him.*

Once-ler: *Sneers at her through his teeth in a low voice.* Ev-ery-thing can be bought. *He lets her speak, and as she does, he removes his thneed from his neck as if he's already made up his mind about something, not needing to hear the rest of it- because one can’t reason with a person who’s already accepted their own world view as fact. One can’t engage debate, even the most civil, with a person who has already made up their mind. The only thing that matters now is protecting his own pack. Something about the way this woman speaks is making it both harder for him to breathe the fire he usually does and at the same time makes him want to burn it all down with even more fury than when he spoke to the previous doctor. It isn't just a bigger dog biting at a smaller yappy dog, it's a fox VS a snake, both fighting for the fallen rabbit, and he's met a snake like this before. Thankfully the two women are nothing alike, but that doesn't stop the vitriolic, rebellious feeling in his gut needing to prove her wrong. He hisses again, almost scoffing at the irony of her words.* Your ‘duty of care’… *He glances to the Warden in sympathy, then back to her with far less.* Why is he so out of his mind?

Dr Zazzerzump: *Adjusts her glasses.* Is that a trick question, Mr Once-ler? All of the patients here are ‘out of their mind’, that’s what this place is for. We haven’t begun analysis or treatment on this particular patient yet, but he’s here for a reason-

Once-ler: That’s not what I meant! *He steams. Treatment of this sort has nothing to do with the rationality of the person involved, they shouldn’t be strapped up, sedated, and left in a cold corner for someone to find them- if someone ever comes to find them- without sympathetic care.* I meant why is he so sedated? Why is he all drugged up out of his mind?

Dr Zazzerzump: He was acting out, Mr Once-ler. a danger to everybody. We sedate all of our patients. It makes them feel better and it makes it easy for us to handle them and treat them. *Of course, she has no understanding of how these patients might truly feel, she’s just trying to come across as caring to hide that all she really cares about is the efficiency of her control here.*

Once-ler: *He almost screams out lout to her; ‘Even when he’s already in a straightjacket?!’ But he doesn’t, it wouldn’t help. He looks down at Edmund who can barely hear this conversation through water, he just knows Oncie is there somewhere and is trying to protect him, but if the man wasn’t here then the confusion would only be making him panic more as he looses an extra layer of stability and understanding.* He’s not comfortable at all, he doesn’t feel better at all, he’s scared. *Maybe he was being a menace, maybe he did deserve to be brought somewhere, but then shouldn’t he have been brought to a jail cell for disorderly conduct? Somewhere he can be held for safety reasons, call someone he knows, speak to a lawyer and at least be reviewed before taken to an asylum? Who authorised that he be brought here? Were they called before the police and just snapped him up to fill one of their patient cells?… He had no idea this sort of conduct was going on here, in his own city. This is old, archaic stuff. For as abstract as Thneedville is, sometimes he does feel that it’s oddly stuck in the 1970’s, as if it’s a product of a mind that’s frame of reference is a world straight out of the late 60’s. Maybe after all of this is over he really should review this place top to bottom officially and write up a report, not just because he’s been personally hurt by it and it’s employees, but because there might be things here he’s not looked at, that could seriously do with reforming.*

Dr Zazzerzump: *Says nothing. She hasn't spared a second glance at Edmund, she's been too busy watching the angry man making his demands and she clearly has no intention of treating these patients like human beings.* If you have no further requirements, I shall leave you two in peace. Visiting hours close at 6.

Once-ler: *Almost hisses at the way she ignores his genuine concerns.* That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?! *He huffs, and in a sweep of his tailcoats, he turns back to the Warden and strides strictly over to him. He glares over his shoulder to the doctor.* I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying here with him.

Dr Zazzerump: *Suddenly spikes. He can’t stay here! That’s an obstacle between herself and the power she holds over everyone in the place.* Visiting hours close at 6 Mr-

Once-ler: I heard you! And I don’t care. If you won’t let me take him out then I have no other option than to stay with him overnight while I make preparations to have him removed.

Dr Zazzerzump: *Sneers* Mr Once-ler if you do not leave, I will have to have you removed by security.

Once-ler: *Turns around and folds his arms.* Who do you think your security is funded by? Who do you think your very institute is funded by? *He squints and tilts his head.* The Thneedville government? *He scoffs at her*. You think your governments have more power than corporations? Where did you hire your security, from the government or from a company?

Dr Zazzerzump: *Remains quiet and clenches her jaw.*

Once-ler: That’s what I thought. *He tilts his head to the door.* Go on, call them, tell them to remove me… If you really think they’ll listen to your orders over mine. *Fine. He’ll play her games of ‘procedure’ and ‘protocol’, she can make this harder for him as much as she wants, that doesn’t mean she’s going to enjoy it.*

Dr Zazzerzump: *Her icy demeanour starting to crack, she tries to hold herself together, keep her composure, refrain from forming shaking fists with her hands at her sides. By the second, the Once-ler is revealing to her what little power she has, despite her doing her best to hold onto it.* Fine. *He hisses under her breath.*

Once-ler: *Turns his back to return to the Warden.* You understand then. Good. I’ll stay here with him for as long as I need. *He won’t leave until Edmund is in his custody, until he can take him out of this dreadful place. Every part of him just wants to drag him our right now, hire his own security, pay theirs off, rip him out of the straight jacket and take him home, but the amount of chaos that that would cause in both the short and long term just isn’t worth the trauma that it’d have on Edmund. For one thing he’d need to leave him to get it all done that fast, and he couldn’t bear to leave him with them- who knows what they would do while he’s unsupervised? The manic of all the action and panic could have a terrible effect on him, while doctors are grabbing at them, large security men are shouting and the Thneedville public are watching him like a spectacle. It’d be cruel to drag him through that. It’d also cause more problems in the long term for them both if if he acted so unofficially. The best thing he can do is be sensible and assertive, plan his escape right by his side, make sure it’s as easy as it can be, and never leave him alone so long as he’s still in here. He’ll need important files and equipment to do it, and that’ll take time to arrange that if he wants to stay with him the whole time, but it can be achieved. Anything can be achieved by the Once-ler. He leans down by his boyfriend and tucks the thneed into Edmund's bound arms across his front so that he can hide his face in it. He leans into his ear.* I'm not going anywhere. *He straightens up and turns to the doctors, standing between them and Edmund and acting as a barrier while looking incredibly tall at his full height and the extra tower of his hat.*

Warden: *He curls up when Oncie gives him the thneed, and the scent of butterfly milk and truffula tufts proves to the animal in the back of his mind that he's still safe. Still, he shivers when he feels Oncie pull away, and buries himself in the fluff, focusing on the gentle way Oncie spoke to him as his sluggish mind tries to hold on to whatever it can through the grey and depressing mire. He doesn't even remember what he did to deserve being locked up in here.*

Once-ler: I didn't get to where I am today, to owning all of your jobs today, under the false idea that 'not everything can be bought'. *His hand forms a fist by his side, the other one pointing a sharp finger.* I've been nice, I’ve played your game, now you're gonna listen to me. This man is leaving this building no later than tomorrow.

Dr Zazzerzump: *Opens her mouth to speak*-

Once-ler *His index finger and thumb pinch together before anyone can interject, as if making a ‘zip it’ gesture.* I don't wanna hear anymore goddamn bullshit recited from ancient documents! You can either make this easier for me or you can make it harder on yourselves, either way I'm getting what I want. I don't care what strings I have to pull, he's leaving tomorrow. You wanna know why? Because if you won't comply, then I can have all of you replaced with people who will by just making three phone calls. So it makes no difference to me other than the fact you're wasting my time!

[The nurses behind the head Dr Zazzersump and take a step back, they straighten up with a spike of adrenaline in their chests, listening to the orders like soldiers. Dr Zazzerzump blinks at him, momentarily surprised and panic setting in at that threat, which quickly turns into cold anger to hide it. She looks around her staff and can feel her own sense of control slowly crumble as the medical teams have their attention stolen away from her by the Once-ler. The man has always been very good at claiming almost anything as his own.]

Once-ler: *Starts to count on his fingers. Without shouting, now sounding more like a very strict, growling army general. Suddenly they all feel like they work for him.* I want his discharge signed. I want his duty of care handed to me. I want his clothes ready. I want him off whatever shit you've been shoving down his throat. I want his goddamn glasses! And I want it all done by 3pm tomorrow because that's how fast it will take me to fuck up your whole system here and make it mine. *If he were an animal, the hackles of his fur would be rising and his teeth would be bearing, the gruffness of his voice growling through with that last word.* Every single one of you is going to be bought because all of these procedures you're following can be bought, so you better not waste any of my goddamn time once I slam that gavel down onto your precious procedures and shove them in my back pocket! *Points a finger towards each of them.* Get it all done by 3pm tomorrow and not a second later, because The Once-ler will not be late.

[The frightened shocked doctors and nurses behind Dr Zazzersump all stare at her with gormless speechlessness. They’re ready to skitter away and do everything he’s asked without question, because, SHIT, they need to get on this fast to have it all ready by tomorrow. Dr Zazzerzump herself is sweating, and every bitter bone in her body wishes she wasn’t. How dare he turn the tables on them and make such unrealistic demands with such a short deadline, they’d have to drop everything to get this done by then.]

Dr. Zazzerzump: *She attempts to straighten up at the same rate that the Once-ler rises, meeting his eyes and paying cold attention but not interrupting him now he’s on a roll. She holds rigid against his threats and swallows, but as she notices her staff becoming more restless at the mention of procedures and paper work, she can’t find a reason to oppose it. What he's asking for is technically reasonable, if unorthodox, so he’s trapped her in a dead end, all her talk of procedures turned back on her, and thrown the threat of a deadline at them all. Thank god that it is reasonable though, in the tightest possible way of tip-toeing around all the orthodox rules, because by this point not even she wants to deal with what wrath he might bring if she refuses him again. At the end of the day, he owns this town more than anyone else, more than she owns this asylum- regrettably.*

Warden: *He hears a man yelling, and like a dreamstate he simultaneously recognises the voice as his Oncie, and expects it to belong to a very different, much more violent man - because that's the man who would normally be in a locked cell like this with him unable to fight back. It’s confusing as his hearts instinct battles his learned neurological instinct. He curls further, clenching his eyes shut even tighter and reminding himself beneath all the numb and rubbery haze that Oncie is protecting him, Oncie will come for him, and that despite the sound of that powerful voice reminding him of things more dangerous, maybe it’s only so powerful because for once it’s actually protecting him. It does sound a lot like his strong Oncie after all. He’s safe.*

Once-ler: *Pulls in a deep breath and grabs the lapels of his jacket, pulling on them to straighten them. Clears his throat.* I will stay with him here overnight, I will keep the button alarm on me should I need to make anymore requests, no-one is to come near him unless it's for very specific medical reasons I'm unqualified to perform. Food, drink, medication, cleaning, anything else will all be handled by myself, and I want him weaned off the medication ASAP. *He raises an eyebrow.* You better hurry up then.

[The nurses scatter like a flock of pigeons, forgetting for a moment that Dr Zazzerzump needed to give an official before they can, but the Once-ler is right, they do need to hurry up if they want it all done on time. They need to turn the place upside down to avoid his wrath if he’s ready to leave tomorrow at 3pm and they’re late for it. How can the man work so fast when there’s only one of him and he can’t leave a cell? They have an entire team of people but they’re the ones frantically panicking for a deadline.)

Dr Zazzerzump: *Behind her, the doctors and nurses have backed off skittishly and darted off to work, trapped between the demands of two different dangerous animals who could both ruin their lives if they make a wrong move, but the bigger one clearly won. After a pause to collect her thoughts, Dr. Zazzerzump clears her throat and raises her hand to them. They’ve already made up their minds who they’re taking orders from now, but she throws out an official instruction, just to maintain a semblance of composure.* *Clears her throat.* Yes!- Mh.. Do as he says. For 3pm tomorrow.

*They scatter out of the door like spilled marbles, leaving the two alone. Then Dr. Zazzerzump continues.*

Dr. Zazzerzump: *Bitterly* The medication is a temporary sedative; it will wear off by morning and I shall make a note that no further doses will be required. There will be a nurse on call to arrange for overnight accommodations. *Grimaces, but tries to maintain professional. The decision has already been made now, all she can do is go along with it and appear as reasonable as she can to avoid receiving that harsh report.* Should you require anything further, the staff will assist you. Is that everything, Mr. Once-ler?

Once-ler: *Finally seems like he might consider withdrawing his claws the moment people start following his orders, especially when the woman confirms it to her staff. The fact that she doesn’t even question his power, influence or ability to have everything done by tomorrow in order to take Edmund out, goes a long way to placating him. He’d have really started ruining lives, he doesn’t care who the head doctor in this place is, if she’d said something like ‘we can’t guarantee, sir, that the changes you claim to make will be completed by then, if at all, and so signing documents and making preparations for rules that aren’t already in place would be a misdirection of time as well as possibly setting us up for illegal- blah blah blah.’ Good thing they all know when they’re in the jaw of the lion.* Yes. You can leave us alone.

*Dr Zazzerzump leaves with a slight twist in her expression, letting out a silent frustrated, but almost relieved that it’s over, sigh of relief. As she and the rest of the staff move away down the corridor and the door swings shut with a heavy thunk, she can be heard issuing clipped commands to everyone else. She tries not to rush too much, because rushing tends to make mistakes, but these things will move quick.*

Once-ler: *When everyone leaves and they’re finally left in private again, he turns back to Edmund, curled up on the floor, and all the anger sighs out of him (at least for now). Drops back down to his knees and leans over him, places his hand on his shoulder.* Edmund…? *His eyebrows knot up.* Edmund it’s me, they’re all gone.

Warden: *He pulls slightly tighter around himself when he feels the pressure of someone's footsteps on the floor beside him. The pressure on his shoulder doesn't make him jump - it can't – but he feels a spike of fear, in automatic self defence he tries to strike like a cornered rat and bite the hand. In reality though, he just manages to turn slowly and gasp. And then Oncie speaks, and he forgets everything except that his knight in shining armour is here.*

Warden: *He cracks open his eyes and looks up at Oncie, his brow creased with worry, desperate to get himself moving enough to talk but unable to force it.* O-okay. *He needs those bright blue eyes so much, but they're so bright he can barely look at them. His pupils visibly shrink against them. He shuts his eyes tight again with distress, hating the grey and how close he is to everything terrible around him.*

*This is so much. The cogs in his brain try to turn, and he thinks that he wants to break the bad feelings with a joke, or a flippant comment - it's not a conscious thought, but it's what the instincts in him tell him to do. He forces himself to speak again, his voice a hushed whisper.* ...I’m s- I'm really... Really scared.

Once-ler: *Sees the way Edmund almost tries to flinch and his eyebrows knot up harder. He can't even protect himself, it's so sad. Then that recognition comes and he swallows, his stomach fluttering with sad little butterflies but fluttering nonetheless.* I- I know, I know you are. *Sighs out and immediately drops down to wrap his arms around him and bundle him up again. He knew he'd get nowhere asking for them to release him from the straight jacket, not if they won’t even let him have his glasses because he's too unpredictable apparently. He was hoping he might be able to fumble with it himself once alone, but as he hugs him and feels around the back of it, he feels the padlocks and realises that not just anyone outside of the wrapped patient himself is free to mess with it. He mentally sighs, but just becomes more kind and gentle in response.* It's okay if you're scared. *His voice becomes thick but he holds himself together.* It's okay, but you don't have to be scared now, because- because I'm here s- so you're safe, and nothing is going to hurt you or scare you anymore. *Cups his hand around the back of his head and pulls him into his shoulder, and plants a long pressed kiss into his head.*

Warden: *His arms shuffle what little they can in an unconscious attempt to reach out and hold onto Oncie, but the best he can do is curl up as close as he can into the hug. Eyes shut, surrounded by his scent, he listens to the words and slowly translates them - he has to wait for each word to pop into meaning like bubbles from the ocean floor. His body relaxes a little bit, unable to protect himself anymore - no powers, no strength, not even his special filter that means nothing is real and nothing really matters. Suddenly everything matters, and it all wants to hurt him. Except Oncie. He's still here, he didn't leave forever. He sniffs, still tearful, and nuzzles into his shoulder and the thneed still tangled up between them. That kiss sends a wave of relief and love through him, and he realises without surprise that he's crying again. He shuffles again against the jacket, not enough to be considered 'a struggle', but miserably testing what it is. In a slightly thicker voice of his own, he asks,* What did I do? *He's obviously in trouble, he obviously did something, because he's in prison. If he wasn't so addled he'd be mad on his own behalf and flailing about it again, but all he can figure right now is that everyone's upset with him except Oncie, and that doesn't feel great.*

Once-ler: *Opens his eyes wide when he's asked what he did wrong, and he doesn't know how to answer. Even if the Warden wasn't sedated and put up a good fight, he'd crack eventually. He might go feral for a bit, but these people are… ‘trained’ to handle a dangerous, damaged psych patient like him. He's the Warden to himself, he's The Once-ler's soulmate to the man holding him, but the reality is that to them he's just another severe case like so many other names on a list and fading faces in the facility rooms. Their treatment of him is completely wrong, but he’s not a stable man, that’s the reality, and right now there's a lot of reality, there isn't a lot of Edmund. A runt might try to put up a good fight with it's teeth and it's ratty snarls, but in the end it'll still drop down under the teeth of a dog bigger and scarier than it, when it’s adrenaline has worn off and it knows it can’t put up a fight, when it's instincts tell it how small it really is and that it should just conserve it's energy and lie down. Edmund, at his heart, is a meek man. The thought of him being lost here, hiding fearfully in the corner of a room away from the dogs that beat the defences out of him, just like his father did, is the worst nightmare he ever could have conjured up.*

Once-ler: *His arms grip around him tighter, tighter than the jacket, and the way he feels him weakly squirm makes his heart break. He pulls back just enough to see his face, hand still cupping the back of his head, so it isn't heavy for Edmund to hold up.* Ohh... *His eyebrows knot.* It was just... *He doesn't even know what to say. He glances down his body and starts to shuffle them so they can rest against the wall in the corner of the room where it's most secluded.* You must be cold, let me help. *He shuffles up into the corner, carrying his boyfriend slowly with him, and takes the thneed back. He lets him rest between his legs against his front while he stretches out the thneed and turns it into a blanket. His heart is pounding and he's trying to swallow down an emotional lump, then he lays the thneed blanket over Edmund and then shuffles out of his own green tailcoat and lays that over him too to create a second, heavier layer to keep the warmth in. Pressed between Oncie's front, then the thneed and Oncie's weighted jacket, he wraps his arms around him and hugs him to his chest.* There. There, that's better.

Warden: *When Oncie cups his face, he looks up into his eyes as best he can and tries to understand what he did. Deep down, beneath all of his delusions, the current sedatives, the self-denial and the fantasies, he knows he's doing bad things. But if he didn't do those bad things, he'd be doing something even worse by letting down the terrible spirit of his father. To be good he has to be a good prison warden, and a good prison warden is vicious, cruel and controlling. But, because he's always been an empathetic baby, he knows that to be vicious, cruel and controlling makes people hate you and makes you a bad person. He can't win. There is no condition where everyone likes him and is pleased with him, so the only conclusion he has ever been able to come to is that he's just an inherently bad human being. But that's okay if he's louder than everyone else, insists to everyone else that he isn’t until he’s *delusional*, and tries to make them happy occasionally by making things fun. That's why he includes the prisoners in his science fairs and vacations and car races – bad, boring wardens wouldn’t do that, right?*

 *His expression breaks, tears filling his eyes as his mouth quivers and devastation spreads across his features. When he was a little boy, the scariest thing in the world was the thought of being abandoned for being bad. Now, here, it feels like reality itself is doing just that - he's been shoved out the way and left behind. He clamps up and tries not to make a sound, in case that's bad too.*

*He's completely pliable as Oncie moves them, trying to help but he can only move his legs and he can't move them much. When they settle, though, and he's covered in layers of warm weight and held all tightly in his protector's arms, reality feels that bit further away and he remembers that he's not been abandoned. Not fully, not by everyone.* *With a little bleat, he nods. It is better. His bare feet push against the cold floor beneath the blankets so that he's pushed against Oncie's front.* *After a moment, he finds the words to say.* Whatever I did... I- I didn't mean to... *That's a lie. But he'd do anything to be kept.*

Once-ler: *Feels his heart break when he sees the tears and tries to catch them with his thumb as he cups his cheek. He hugs him to his front, treasuring him like he's the only teddy-bear his parents have ever been able to afford, and clinging to him like a child hiding from the shadows in a wardrobe. Gasps at his words and whispers.* You didn't- It was an accide- it was a mistake- *He feels distinctly, innocently, devastated and sick to his stomach with guilt and worry, in an almost confused way that a juvenile would. As if he's at fault of doing something so bad to the younger kid living next door, who he often goes out to play with, but it's also his responsibility to take care of. But this time he convinced him to jump into the lake, climb too far up a tree, go too close to a wild animal, and it's his fault now that something terrible happened to him, and he's terrified of being told off by both their mom’s. So he just hides in the woods with him, trying to fix it and not knowing how, and just telling him that he's okay and everything will be fine, but he also feels sick with horror. His voice breaks.* But- but I'm going to fix it- I will! I'll fix it!

*He gasps as tears form in his own eyes and he curls around him. He's letting him down, he can't do anything right, he can't even get him out of this place in a city that be basically owns.* I- I'm so sorry- It's my fault. *His expression breaks down and he pulls him to his front, hooking his head over his shoulder and shaking it with guilt. He's useless. He can't even protect him from his own damn city.* I'm sorry, I'm s- so, so sorry, Edmund. I'm so sorry.

Warden: *He nuzzles against him, drying his tears on Oncie's front and pressing against him for safety until his muscles start to soften - he can't keep the effort up for very long, but he always stays hugged up in his arms. He lets out a soft hiccup when he hears that it was an accident, or a mistake, whatever it was. He can't remember how he ended up here - every memory is fuzzy and indistinct like a dream that fades faster the more he tries to grasp for it - but at least Oncie doesn't blame him. Right now that's the very final thing that matters, like the last star still burning in the sky. Everything else has failed, but Oncie is always there, and he never leaves him.*

*He doesn't quite understand when Oncie says he'll 'fix it'. He doesn't know what there is to fix, because prison is an inevitable force that can't be changed. It's like saying you'll fix a sunset. His eyes crack open again, wet eyelashes fluttering against his boyfriend's neck while his own dears don’t cease.* Hm? *The cogs try to turn again.* W-Why? *His voice is hushed, but it's still his usual loopy, lyrical lisp, with a quiver of sadness.* You're here. *That is the only thing that matters. The only thing.*

Once-ler: *Looks down at him with wet eyelashes too.* Because, well because you're still here too and I think it's my fault you are. *He sniffs and begins wiping the Warden's tears away with his hand, since he can't do it himself.* But- but like I said, I'll fix it. *He makes sure not to talk too quickly, to let the words sink in.* I'm going to take you back home, I'm going to make you feel better. It just- *he hiccups as another tear appears and he wipes it away on his shoulder,* It just won't be right now. But I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying here with you until I can make everything okay again- and then forever after that.

Warden: *He looks up at Oncie with half-lidded eyes, still tight enough in the corners that the middle-aged creases around them are visible, but more relaxed than they have been thus far. He blinks slowly when Oncie wipes his tears away, foggy from the sedatives, believing everything he says because he has no choice but to do so, and trusting him because how could he not? He knows in his heart that nobody should like him enough to be here, but Oncie is because they're in love.*

*His subconscious can't quite believe it when he's told they're going to get out of here, not because he doesn't trust Oncie but because he's never known a reality where a prison wasn't an ultimate and inescapable thing. If he was sober he'd believe him, but he can't right now. However, when he says he'll be with him forever 'after that'... something shifts. To hear that Oncie wants to be with him forever shakes up the foundations he otherwise fully believed in, and the idea that there might be a forever after this suddenly becomes plausible. His eyes widen just a little bit more - even as glassy as they are - and a smile slowly spreads across his face, welling up with hopeful, emotional, grief-stricken tears as raw feeling is able to bleed up through the sedation.* Ye... yeah? *He sounds so hopeful, and with the tone of a soldier wanting someone to keep talking to him as he bleeds out on the battlefield, his chest shuddering with emotional hiccups. Nuzzled up against him, able to feel his heartbeat and bury in his scent, looking up at him and hearing his voice - if he can't have his glasses, he can put a new barrier between himself and the rest of reality.*

Once-ler: *His heart breaks and clutches at the hope in the Warden's voice, seeing him smile makes some ray of hope bloom in him too. Nothing can stop the happiness that the Warden brings to the Once-ler when he smiles, no amount of sedatives or guilt, when the man shows that grin, shows the cute gap in his teeth and has that hope in his eyes, it can’t stop Oncie from smiling back to greet him. As his eyes well up again with painful love at the way the Warden’s overflow, he smiles a little too.* Ye-hes...* He almost sobs out silently, between his quivering, smiling lips. He sniffs, then leans in slowly, gently cups Edmunds cheek to tilt towards him, and presses his lips to his. The kiss lingers in softness, barely any pressure applied but the sentiment still clear. His arms squeeze him tenderly a little bit, and after he pulls away he gazes into his eyes and replies in a low voice.* Yes. I promise.

Warden: *He drinks in Oncie's smile like it's sunlight, fortifying him a little better and feeding that faith that everything is going to be alright. He can't envision what it might look like (which spooks him, because he has a very vivid imagination) but he believes that he'll feel better soon. Like a feedback loop, Oncie's returned smile only makes his bigger too. Then they kiss, and under the sedatives it feels like his stomach has erupted like an underwater volcano, something hot and wild and frantically desperate, dampened by a thick layer of vacuum, but unmistakeably there. It feels like he’s been kissed for the very first time, by the only person he’ll love for the rest of his life. It takes him a second to react before his lips twitch and then he's kissing back too - with a similar light pressure, but still very much a presence. Oncie is here, and Oncie loves him, he’s been saved. They draw back, and he looks up at him with utter trust, wide and glassy-eyed, but believing in him as the most powerful force of nature to exist. His eyes might be foggy, but his smile shines through for him.*

Once-ler: *Pulls away from the kiss and adores the smile on Edmunds face. He desperately needs that belief- because no-one else has ever believed in him. Strokes his thumb over his cheek as he cups his face and he gazes into his eyes, wiping away some more tears for his boyfriend. His eyebrows knot up as he blinks his own away and he sighs out sadly.* My little bunny... *Kisses his forehead again and tilts his head in concern, squinting his own eyes as if trying to stop them from being so bright, because he knows they're bright for the Warden without his glasses.* Do your eyes hurt?

Warden: *The combination of Oncie's gentle handling, the safe weight of the covers and the kind tone of his voice softens the Warden's body until he's a warm, heavy weight against his front. He still squints as he looks up into Oncie's eyes, but he doesn't want to lose him by shutting his own.* *It takes him a moment to translate the question, especially since he's still glowing over the kind and loving pet-name, but then he replies quietly,* Mmhmm... a little. *He doesn't care anymore, though. As long as his world is so small that it's only the two of them, he can survive even if they do ache.* I-it's okay.

Once-ler: *Eyebrows knot up in sympathy.* I can't get your glasses but- *Reaches up above his top hat where his sunglasses rest on his head and takes them, while also removing his hat and placing it down.* You can wear mine if it makes you more comfortable. *He helps him try them on, knowing that they're not yellow lenses so can't make anything warmer, but they are dark and so might helps soothe some of the brightness or overwhelming peripheral vision. The weight of glasses on his face might also just provide something of a placebo effect, who knows?* Does that feel better, or no?

Warden: *He watches with glassy docility as Oncie places the glasses on his face, and as darkness falls over his vision he blinks in curiosity. Then the unseen tension in his shoulders relax and the lines around his eyes soften. That feels much better - even if they still aren't right and don't make him feel like he's in his own little fantasy world, he does at least have the separation and some rest for his weak eyes.*

*He smiles up at him from behind his sunglasses, looking quite the picture in his colourless hospital clothes, restraints, and Oncie's sunglasses.* Much better. *He shuffles against him, unable to inch any closer but just wanting to feel the action of drawing nearer to him anyway.* Thank you... *He thanks him as innocently as a child knowing to be polite, but with all the love they share together.*

Once-ler: *Gently smiles when he sees that it's made him feel somewhat better.* Good~ *Leans down and kisses his forehead.* You're welcome. *His stomach squirms as he feels Edmund shift and for a moment wonders if he's uncomfortable, but then he settles against him.* They suit you. *He says with a quiet chuckle, wanting to ease some tension with a playful compliment.

Warden: *Blinks at Oncie with his own, slightly delirious, giggle. He looks up at him with endless gratitude, even just for the slight attempt at play with the compliment, because any amount of play is a good distraction away from bad feelings for the Warden.*

Once-ler: *He smiles back with depth behind his gaze. His heart then skips a beat as he thinks about saying it again, and maybe hearing it back, although he wouldn't worry if he doesn't because knows now that he's capable of it at least. His arms squeeze around him gently, lovingly and he mumbles by his ear.* I love you.

Warden: *He's so glad he's squeezed back, too. He wants that tangible sense of being as close as possible, so his senses are full with the fact that he's protected - because it's really spooky being unable to do anything to defend himself. When he hears those three words again, his body rises with a deep breath of relief and a rush of giddy - if woozy - happiness. Hearing those words still doesn't feel real, those words never applied to him before this man came along, and on some foggy level he understands that even now in all this bad feeling Oncie still wants him enough to be here and say that. Emotion rises in the back of his throat and for a moment his heart flutters. He loves him too.*

*He wants to say those words back. In the addled and muzzy confusion of the past few hours, he's not sure if he's ever been able to or not, but those are also dangerous words that might mean something very bad happens if he says them out loud. He doesn't want to bring down an axe on Oncie right when they're at their weakest, but at the same time he wants to say it so bad.* I-I... *He swallows, then quickly nods as a lump rises in his throat. Silently, he begs Oncie to understand.*

Once-ler: *His hand rises into the Warden's hair and he strokes his fingers through it. He smiles as he watches him try to reply, and doesn't force him, the fact that he's trying to is proof enough, it always has been. His stomach flutters and he leans down to press his lips against his head. He adds quietly when the Warden stops himself.* I know.

Warden: *He's so relieved to hear that Oncie doesn't need him to say it. If he did, the pressure would be too much, especially right now, and he wouldn't know what to do to make it go away. As it is, rather than struggle with the darkness, he's able to float in his arms, and even though he's far from home and can't move his body and doesn't know what to do, he's still kind of cosy. Even a little bit happy.*

*A few moments ago, he said those words because he wasn't sure if he'd ever see Oncie again, and if Oncie was getting away from him then... he was escaping, so maybe he'd hear them and wouldn't be hurt. That was the thought process, the desperation, that managed to coax those words out of him. As he clings to his soulmate's front as best he can, calmer and more aware that they're both here and both 'in danger', he isn't sure they have that freedom. A big man with an axe might enter at any moment. But somehow he still feels like Oncie might be a bigger man. He tilts his head closer to Oncie's chest and says very quietly, forcing the words forward,* A-are we safe?

Once-ler: *His hand comes round and clutches his head protectively when he feels him tilt towards his chest, and when he asks that question he opens his mouth to reply, but then a quick knock taps against the door and the sound of locks clicking with keys echoes through. His attention flicks to it and his grip tightens around Edmund, not to worry him but to make him aware he's protected. He stares towards the incoming sound like a wolf ready to pounce with sharp eyes, ready to snarl at the threat. But he suddenly remembers to collect himself.*

*The knock isn't so much of a request to enter as it is a warning someone is entering, the kind of half assed knock an aged mother gives on her teenage sons bedroom door before sweeping in to dump a pile of laundry on the bed. It's not so much of a knock and entry as it is two hard taps and the immediate creak of the metal hospital door as it sweeps open and white light floods through. An older, plumper woman enters with a younger nurse by her side. The former has been a carer for forty years, the latter didn't want to come back here alone.*

Older nurse: Evenin' Mr. Once-ler, sorry to disturb, but we've brought the overnight stuff by instruction of Dr. Zazzerzump. *She has bags under her eyes, her voice is nasally and she speaks her words with a slow drawl. She's a chunky, round figure and is the type of old nurse who has changed so many bedpans over the years that nothing disgusts or surprises her anymore. Although some patients occasionally do, including this one, but she's good at brushing it off and getting on with her job.* C'mon Lissie! *She enters further into the room holding a large roll of bedding like a lady Viking shifting a boulder. Lessie, a younger, fairly new nurse shuffles in hesitantly after her with pillows.* Do you want it assem-ba-lin' for you, Sir?

Warden: *Suddenly there's noise and voices and loud rattling, and it hits him all wrong because his brain can't process things properly right now. If he was by himself he'd panic and fear would strike and thrash him at them like a prey animal caught in a net. Flinching at and away from them somewhere between impulsive attempts to snap defensively and simply shriek from fright- or, that's what he'd think he'd be doing. In reality the sedative is too much to let him do anything shake out of fear and try to hiss. But his instincts are different now that there's someone else to take care of him, a bigger predator able to fight for him, and so that panicked, protective aggression doesn't trigger. Instead, he's just terrified and begging for rescue. He yelps at the sudden noise, and instinctively dives further against Oncie as if he were trying to dig himself into the ground. His body can be felt to begin to shake, and his hands tighten under his restraints as he grips onto himself in an automatic attempt to protect his organs. He lets out a small sound of fear and manages to dig his heel into the ground and shove himself as hard as he can into Oncie's arms, trying to hide in him like a deer hiding between the legs of a stag.*

Once-ler: *Is frowning towards the noise, but he blinks at the Warden's sudden rustling and hiding and feels his heart clutch in his chest as the same rate his hands clutch around him. His gaze snaps towards the door, now not so furious because things are more in his control and he has his soulmate back in his arms, but still protective. He assumes it's nurses returning to drop off the overnight accommodations he was promised, but Edmund doesn't have enough comprehension of what's happening to understand that's all this is. He pulls him into his front, hiding his face in his chest as he holds his hand against the back of his head and pulls their makeshift covers up a little more over him. He feels the shaking and hears the sound, and as his stomach clenches he can't help but whisper down to him that he's okay. Then he orders at the women.* No, just drop them down there and go. I'll do them myself.

Warden: *He's tense - really, really tense - as he grits his teeth and tries to block out the fact that reality is once again intruding on his world just when it was starting to arrange itself in a tiny little bubble he could kind of begin to handle. He was okay, for a second when it was just them. But the noise leaves him exposed to the real world again, to people who threaten everything about him. Even them just looking at him means he's not The Warden, which is the only thing his mind can deal with.*

*He's not sure if he'll end up bending his sunglasses with the force he's putting on them as he buries himself in Oncie's front. His arms shove, just once, in a panicked attempt to grab around his boyfriend's waist or flail at oncoming danger, but it's not strong and the jacket prevents anything from really happening. He can hear his breathing squeak, but he does at least calm a little bit when he hears Oncie talk to him. He stops his minute attempts at struggling, though his heart still flutters and he still freezes against him like a rabbit caught in an open field.*

Older Nurse: *Shrugs and drops the things on the floor. Lissie does the same, dropping down the pillows and a bag containing some overnight supplies. She grumbles on her way out barely heard.* A 'thank you' would be nice… Young men these days-

Nurse Lessie: *Nudges the older nurse and points over to the Warden. Whispers to her.* Nurse Julie, is that allowed?

Warden: *He doesn't really follow what they're saying, but he recognises the tones enough to hear when they drop the things on the floor - which makes him jump anyway - and start to leave. He begins to soften, just a little, but then they start talking again and he kicks at the ground beneath the covers and whispers Oncie's name in the smallest voice, begging him to make them go away.*

Once-ler: *He feels the pressure against him and doesn't care if his sunglasses are bent so long as they don't end up hurting the Warden himself. The kicking and the little whisper of his name only makes that anger surge up harder because now he's responding to his soulmates fear and feels anxious to defend his space. He just made a warm nest for him and they're invading it.*

Nurse Julie: *Huffs and looks over with her hand on her hips, adjusting her own glasses when she notices the new ones on the Warden.* Sir, I can't say that won't count as contraband like his own if he's-

Once-ler: *Is currently hooking his chin over the Warden's head and stroking his back with his hand under the coat and thneed. He rolls his eyes and snaps at her, the demand barked and final.* Just get out.

Warden: *Flinches at the sudden loud voice, his common sense even more inhibited with the sedatives and therefore his learned behaviour responds instinctively with a flinch to the shout of the angry man. But a split second later, he recognises the voice as his Oncie, which makes sense because the shout was very close and Oncie is hugging him right now, and that flinch immediately settles because he knows he’s being protected. Oncie is so powerful and has such a presence, he’d recognise that voice of his anywhere, it’s the voice that shows strength and makes demands around Superjail despite everything. Even in the jaws of Superjail, Oncie is still a force to be reckoned with. For some reason, that foggy thought almost makes his throat close up.*

Nurse Julie: *Rolls her eyes and shrugs as she turns and then leads Lessie out of the room.* There, that's your answer. *They close it all back up and leave them in peace.*

The Once-ler: *Once the women are gone, his attention immediately turns back to the man in his arms, even if a part of him is still watching their surroundings so that Edmund knows someone is.* Hey, hey, it's okay, they're gone. *He curls around him and rubs his lips against his head, speaking in a softer voice.* You're safe now.

Warden: *He's shaking like a leaf when the door shuts, eyes clenched shut, and realising beneath everything that he's in a really, really bad place, and that for him to be in this really bad place, something really has gone wrong. A certain existential understanding falls over him, but he doesn't have the processing power to handle it. He's actually in trouble. This is a situation that might not just go away like a sickness or a nightmare, but this might mean his life has really changed permanently. His eyes fly open and he looks up at Oncie like he's desperate to see something other than the terrible world he's landed himself in, and he whispers the word that signals that he wants everything to stop. His white flag, his safe-word, the sign that he wants to be in his bed now, and for the ride to stop so he can get off.* I'm sorry. *His voice is barely audible, but his expression is a mask of anguish. He pants with the appearance of falling into a pain-induced panic.* I'm so sorry.

Once-ler: *The shaking only makes him grip harder, as if it might keep him stable, especially at the way Edmund tries to hug for him but just can't. All he can do is hold him back with more strength, and at the least it keeps him warm so the chill doesn't make the shaking worse. Then he feels him lift his head and so he looks back down to him, and that expression of complete, traumatised surrender breaks his heart so hard that it makes him gasp out loud. Then those words come, and he loses his own. He doesn't know what to say, he feels his tongue go cold with a kind of horrified nausea. He shakes his head, eyes wide with knotted eyebrows as he gazes into his eyes and tries to just understand what he means.*

*Something in his expression, in his eyes, is telling him and he thinks he might just see the existential anguish in them. He just wants it to stop, he knows he's been bad - because he's in a bad place, and that's how he knows it works - but he doesn't quite know or remember what he's done. But he feels it, and he'll just apologise for anything, to anyone, to hope it might make the pain go away, that it might stop the punishment. When has he ever offered that grace to anyone himself? Maybe he doesn't even know it's an option, which makes this even more devastating if it's just a broken last cry for help that he knows is hopeless. Nevertheless, what he begs for is a thing that, in his childhood and world view, has always been nothing but an inconceivable idea that’s as real as the Easter bunny. That thing is mercy.*

*He sighs out a shuddering pained breath and cups his face gently with his hand.* Ohh... Bunny... *He swallows, feeling a small lump in his throat. He can only think of one thing to say, whether or not it's appropriate to come from him. None of this seems personal, none of it seems specific, it's all just highly emotional and much like Edmund will say anything to make the punishment end, Oncie will say whatever he needs to hear to ease him in this moment.* I forgive you. *He pulls him into his shoulder and curls around him, his knees coming up even more to cradle him.* You're forgiven. I can't make the bad things stop right now but I can promise you that you're not in trouble, not with me. You were never in trouble with me. *He kisses the side of his head a few times* And I'm staying here, and as long as I'm here with you, you're in a place where you're not in danger, you're not in trouble and you're not being punished, even if you're upset and hurting.

Warden: *His wide eyes stare up through the sunglasses and lock onto Oncie's, desperate for them. When his hand cups his face, he tilts into it so that his cheek is slightly smushed by his palm, a sliver of his teeth visible between parted lips, and big, terrified eyes filling with tears. When Oncie says those words, for a moment his world stops. His eyes can't pull any wider, but his breath pauses and something settles deep down in him - the little motor that had been driving him to higher and higher panic, telling him that he was in trouble and to run. When he hears that he's forgiven, it starts to very carefully melt down.*

*He's pulled in, and again he tries to hard to hug back but the best he can do is press against him and nuzzle into his warm embrace. His eyes don't shut but they do tighten as tears fall again, and he watches Oncie from the hug like he doesn't dare turn away and find out that he's a figment of a dream. He hears Oncie tell him that he's not in trouble, that he's never been in trouble with Oncie, and that he's going to stay here. That he's not in danger and he's not going to be hurt even though he doesn't feel good. A little bleat splutters out of him as he absorbs those kisses, needing them so badly.*

*'Forgiveness' has never been a word in the Warden's vocabulary. In day-to-day life, sure, he'll forgive a slight. He'll forgive his friends for mistakes and accidents, or deliberately pretend they don't hate him if they do something that hurts, but that's not mercy. Mercy is different. He's never once granted mercy to a prisoner without an ulterior motive. The only other time he ever showed mercy was when he dared to feed that puppy, and they both know what happened after that. Justice and mercy are two sides of the same coin, but he's never flipped his over. His father never flipped it over either - all he's ever known is black-and-white punishment for crimes. Mercy is ‘cheating’, as his Father would think. But he's so scared, and he'd do anything to make the fear go away. He'll cheat if he has to, not realising that he's not 'cheating', but genuinely crying out for help because his mind and sanity are still fighting for a shred of survival and he’s too small and weak to do it himself. His whisper of those words might as well be a scream from a burning building.*

Once-ler: *He doesn't realise that what the Warden’s psychology really reads is him granting him mercy, although that is the truth to what Oncie is offering him. Because as Edmund begs the universe for mercy in his moment of pain, the universe has granted it to him in the form of The Once-ler. Out of everything around him, this is the kind offering, the acceptance of the white flag, the hearing of the safe word and the offer to help cease the pain. That doesn't mean he can change the rest of his situation, but one corner of this situation is merciful. He does consciously know forgiveness however. He knows guilt and he knows how much freedom forgiveness can bring a person, because he knows that he himself would still be in a terrible place had the Lorax not forgiven him for all he'd done.*

Warden: *After a moment, he gives a pitiful nod. With a wet, little laugh he nuzzles his nose into his neck. He's still scared, but as Oncie insists on those promises, the dread begins to lift. He plants a gentle kiss against him.*

The Once-ler: *That lump in his throat grows as he sees the Warden's reaction, but he stays strong, his stomach flutters at the gentle kiss against him and he bundles him up in a little squirm. They couldn't be closer but he still wants him to feel cuddled.* You're safe, Edmund, it's just you and me, and nothing can hurt you when I'm with you. *His voice is low and soft and he kisses his head again.* I love you. *He pulls back just enough to look at him and cup his face, he smiles softly, wiping a tear from his cheek with his thumb.* And in a moment I'm going to wrap us up in that soft blanket, lie us down in the pillows, and we're going to cuddle up together all night. Now that doesn't sound much like punishment, huh?

Warden: *The fear leaves him in layers, each one peeling away or falling to dust, one-by-one as Oncie handles him so tenderly. The existential dread leaves him first, as Oncie promises him that he's not in trouble and reminds him that even if he's uncomfortable, he's not going to be harmed by anyone so long as he's here. Beneath that is an animal tension, ready to spring and try to run or try to defend himself, or cry for help as his instincts prepare for a wolf attack. He's so vulnerable, and he knows it, that he's been flooding himself with adrenaline that's been battling the sedatives in his bloodstream for what must be hours. As he's cuddled up and as Oncie gives him a warm place to curl, as he kisses him and cups his face and says he'll always protect him, that slowly falls away as well.*

*Soon he's left only with the fear at the very bottom of it all, that will probably not go away until they get out of this place. That fear is manageable - it's just an undercurrent of knowledge that he hasn't got his shield and that life is scary and that he's not in Superjail anymore, and that can be carried so long as he's not left by himself. As long as Oncie is handling everything else, he can handle that.*

*It takes him a second for Oncie's words to sink through the fog, but then he nods with a weary, relieved smile, even a little chuckle in his voice.* Mmhmm~ *The smile pushes a final tear down his cheek and over Oncie's thumb, and he blushes ever-so-slightly pink when he's told that he loves him. Soft blankets and a warm bed sound very good right about now.*

Once-ler: *Lets out a soft, loving hum of laughter that's only just audible. His own chest doesn't feel quite as panicked anymore even though he still wants to get Edmund out of here as fast as possible. He's accepted what he can't change and is focusing in what he can control, and now that he can tell his boyfriend's heart rate is calming down, his own is relaxing too and becomes a calm thud against Edmund's front. A hand slides into his hair and he pulls him gently down under his chin and rests his lips against his head as he softly draws his fingertips through his hair in rhythmic circles. He loves him, more than anything in the world, he loves him, so even if Edmund couldn't be released in some ridiculous universe where the Once-ler doesn't get what he wants, he'd stay here in this room with him for an eternity. He whispers.* We'll stay here a moment and then I'll sort the bed out, okay? *He kisses his head, and just so soothe him a little more, he starts to slowly hum a little jingle he once made up about Thneeds and how everybody needs one.*

Warden: *His eyes close as Oncie's hand slides into his hair, his senses still trying to be alert for danger but failing as a sense of comfort, of utter relief, overwhelms him. He curls up under his partner's chin as he's guided, and a few more tears fall down his face - healing tears after a long day fraught with terror, rather than the cry for help they were before. He makes a soft sound that he understands, when Oncie tells him he'll move in a moment to get things sorted, and the softest, most musical little laugh escapes him when he hears that jingle. If he's playing, they really must be okay.*

*The fear fades as his world becomes encapsulated in the Once-ler's arms, and the emotions rush in slowly but surely, like an avalanche of honey. He adores this man. He needs him more than he has ever needed anything else, because he's saving him - not just protecting him like his glasses or his prison. His lips quiver with just how intensely and just how truly those emotions hit, and after a moment he pushes his face into Oncie's neck to whisper words that would normally be so terrifying but right now feel like the only things that matter.* I-I... *His voice is so quiet, not wanting the universe to hear his confession of guilt and weakness, because these words were always treated like that's what they were. But if Oncie has the power to make even mercy exist, then maybe he’s right, maybe his Father was also wrong about those three words. He said them already, in a fit of desperation that he only half-understands, but he says them now like it's a secret he's privileged to keep.* …*He takes a soft, deep breath and pushes himself harder into his arms.* I-I love you...

Once-ler: *He's happily curled around his boyfriend, loving the way he nestles into his neck and starts to calm down. When he starts to speak, he thinks he's about to try and ask or say something else; it's only when he actually says the words that it surprises him.*

*He wasn't expecting to hear the response, but he realises that Edmund finally feels safe enough to say it, because he's here with him. His chest clutches, time slows down again and he feels a lump in his throat that makes emotional, incredulous tears appear in his eyes again. He sniffs and lets out a quiet breath of laughter, grinning from ear to ear. His heart can be felt racing, hammering in his chest with a rush of joy and excitement despite the terrible circumstances they're in. This could be the most happiest he's felt in a long time, despite them both being in the most awful nightmare, all because he adores this man more than life itself and the man has the courage to tell him the same, finally. He sniffs and leans in, nuzzling his nose just under his cheek to gently tilt his face like a kind, larger animal shifting a smaller one.* I love you too, Bunny.

*He meets his lips and they press together, his own parting slightly and softly to linger against his with a few nuzzling smooches, as his arms squeeze around him with the same strength of push that Edmund presses into him. He doesn't overwhelm him, but he does consume his meekness with affection and adoration, surrounding him with his arms and capturing his lips like a flurry of flowers blooming against his skin. He tilts his head into it and lets out a soft sigh as a tear rolls down his cheek. As he pulls away he gazes into the Warden's eyes, the pair of them both tear-filled over their love for each other and he smiles. He grins and whispers* I love you too.

Warden: *It takes a moment, but when Oncie kisses him his lips respond in kind, his heart beating like a fluttering bird in the cage of his ribs, and his cheeks blooming with more colour. They part just a little bit and brush against him, as slow and earnest as a leaf bending for the sun. He bends with the gentle, primal nudge of his face, and dares to crack open his eyes to gaze up at him. The corners of his mouth weakly pull into a broad smile, all the more quavering but all the happier when they're said to him again.*

*He's so happy to hear those words returned, because even though he's certain of their love, he isn't certain about those words, and there's always a chance that they could magically make everything terrible if he's heard to say them out loud. Oncie's voice, however, is bigger than his is, and it's like he drowns out all the threats and dangers that start to clamour for his mind the moment he says the same thing.*

The Once-ler: *The Once-ler closes his eyes and pulls Edmund under his chin again, he begins pressing repeated kisses into his head and around his face, slowly and softly so he's not overwhelmed, but showering him in love still, and holding him like he's the most valuable thing the Once-ler has ever worked so hard to earn. And then, he rests his cheek on his head, safely tucked under his chin, within the warm comfort of his makeshift covers. They rest in the moment, they can face the world again together tomorrow, right now, all that matters is that they’re back together and nothing will pull the Once-ler’s greatest treasure from his greedy, loving hands.*

Warden: *He closes his eyes as he's tucked under Oncie's chin, his whole body melting against him, relying on him entirely to bear his weight. That is, until Oncie starts to push those gentle kisses into his head and face, his drugged senses reading that movement as he would a flurry of kisses if he were at his best. His feet give a very weak and heavy kick of delight as a breathy, lyrical laugh falls from him, delighted at so much fuss and adoration. The Once-ler came back for him, and that’s the only thing that matters. He's loved, and he loves, and even though everything seems to have gone wrong, and even though the whole world seems to hate him right now, and even though the loud, angry, scary voice in his head would disagree, that love is the only thing that matters.*

[lau219]

After Hours Head Canon: Christmas Edition

In response to my friend, @an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction, who sent me an ask on the topic, here’s a glimpse of Robert and Y/N’s first Christmas together as a couple…

🌟 Since his mother’s passing, Robert hasn’t really celebrated Christmas, except in the very surface-level way of office Christmas parties and generic Christmas cards to and from colleagues. He’s not too into Christmas, and it’s somewhat sad for him, due to the connection of the loss of his mother.

🎅🏼 Despite her own jovial attitude towards Christmas, Y/N knows that celebrating isn’t what Robert’s used to and that it’s a sensitive thing for him due to his mother’s death. So she is very respectful of that and tries not to overstep too much.

🎄 She gently probes Robert for stories of his childhood Christmases, and when he reveals that his mother always used to take him ice skating and then they’d decorate the tree together, Y/N tries to re-create that for him.

❄️ However, when she learns that Robert doesn’t even own an artificial Christmas tree or any ornaments, she encourages him to get them. At first, Robert brushes off the idea, saying that he’s survived this long without one and it isn’t necessary. However, as soon as Y/N asks him once more to go shopping for a tree and decorations, he’s quickly changing his mind, even though he’s still a bit reluctant.

🌟 “Please, Robbie?” Y/N begs him in a soft voice, giving him that little pout he can never say no to as she wraps her arms around his waist and presses against him. “I really want you to have a tree. It’s not Christmas without a tree!”

🎅🏼 Caving almost instantly, despite his better judgment, Robert agrees and lets Y/N drag him to the store for some holiday shopping. And she’s also insisting on getting a real tree rather than an artificial one.

🎄 Robert soon finds himself standing in the middle of a Christmas tree lot and being pulled around by the hand by Y/N as she makes him help choose a tree. And then he’s doing something he never thought he’d be doing, which is tying a live Christmas tree to the roof of his Bentley.

❄️ One of the rare occasions where Y/N uses Robert’s money to her advantage (she only ever does when she knows it’s something that will benefit Robert), she then walks around the store with no holding back as she grabs every single decoration and box of ornaments she wants to get, regardless of cost.

🌟 She also proceeds to buy them matching Christmas pajamas, and when Robert protests, Y/N just sweetly tells him to shush and puts them in the cart. After a kiss and another pout from Y/N, Robert’s no longer arguing.

🎅🏼 They then head to the ice rink, where they rent horribly crummy skates, and neither of them can stop laughing as they proceed to fall all over each other as they wobble their way around the ice.

🎄 Once they’re back at Robert’s, they put up and decorate the tree together, and as they do, Robert can’t help but smile as Y/N get so excited about it and he sees how much she just wants him to enjoy himself.

❄️ After they decorate the tree, Y/N asks Robert if there are any Christmas movies he likes, and when he reveals that he’s never seen White Christmas, Y/N proceeds to make them popcorn and bake some chocolate chip cookies (Robert’s favorite) before bringing it all into the living room with some apple cider and pulling up the movie on the TV.

🌟 Pajamas donned and snacks at the ready, they proceed to snuggle under a blanket on the couch and watch the movie, Y/N constantly side-eyeing Robert to see if he seems to be enjoying it.

🎅🏼 Towards the end of the movie, Y/N falls asleep against Robert, snuggled into his chest with his arms around her, and it’s the happiest Robert has ever felt, aside of course, from when he and Y/N finally got together.

🎄 When the movie ends, Robert tries not to wake Y/N up, but she surprises him by sleepily asking him, “Did you like it?” with her eyes still closed, and he smiles and gives her a kiss on the head. “I loved it,” Robert replies as he hugs her closer.

❄️ Opening her eyes and turning in his arms, Y/N tells Robert there’s still one thing they need to do. She then proceeds to pull a small bunch of mistletoe out that she had hiding behind the couch cushion.

🌟 Holding the mistletoe above their heads, Y/N leans forward and gives Robert a sweet kiss, but she’s soon dropping it when Robert pulls her into his lap. After a mini make-out session, Y/N pulls back from Robert slightly to look at him.

🎅🏼 “Thank you for letting me force all this on you,” Y/N says to him softly, stroking the nape of his neck as they look at each other with so much love.

🎄 “No,” Robert replies, shaking his head as he gives her an adoring smile. “Thank you for making this the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

@an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction @vervainandspritz @xsweetcatastrophe @toobusyshrimping @teawonderfultea-blog1

@meister95 @empatheticlove @breakthestereo @mrs-bond @pkmonka

@wonderlanddreamer @nyxxie-pooh @febris-amatoria @bleakmidwinter00 @randomcreator-09

@cillmurphyslover @hairica @sasha28x

[decepti-thots]

arcee for the ask meme?

one aspect about them i love:

you know, idw arcee does not get enough credit for sometimes being funny as fuck and, in a broader sense, weirdly... maybe chill isn't the right word and yet. sort of! she's so completely unimpressed by all the clowns doing clown shit around her, even the ones she broadly likes and even usually respects to some degree; arcee has lived so much longer than 99.9% of the people she interacts with basically ever, and seen so much shit that makes it hard to see the current shitshow that is Cybertron trying to re-establish itself as some unprecedented disaster or whatever, that she's very. refreshingly blunt and inclined to even a certain level of irreverence at times that bounces off the people around her incredibly well as a character. optimus tries to angst about having seen soooo much terrible shit and arcee's like 'shut up whippersnapper lmaoooo' and it's great and very necessary. UNPHASED, that's the word i wanted rather than chill! she's delightfully unphased.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them:

basically anything about idw arcee that relates to her not being hyper-violent, lmao. i gotta be real. but specifically, that she's introspective! one of the most introspective characters in exRiD, i would say! arcee struggles to understand herself but not for lack of trying, and she's not a thoughtless 'haha violence and murder fun' machine, just incorrectly perceived as such by the people around her and struggling to work out how to establish herself as more than that after what she's been through. arcee has a lot of thoughts about her role on a post-war cybertron, on the autobots and her decision to join them, on the people around her and who she works with, on how they treat her. but too often she gets portrayed as 'just wants to know where the next fight is' for a joke, which completely flattens her into a caricature.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character:

arcee's voice is like. really loud. zero volume control. even when she whispers she sounds weirdly loud. everyone is too intimidated by her to tell her to keep it down and she wouldn't care even if they did so she just cheerfully goes on her way bursting into any room like HEY WHAT'S UP at full volume. god bless her.

one character i love seeing them interact with:

i actually really like her dynamic with optimus in exRiD and especially when you get to like, the OP ongoing and Unicron; she's simultaneously very much wanting to be on his side and work with him but also just not awed by him at all the way others- even those who really don't like Optimus- wind up being. his reputation is not impressive to her, neither in a positive or a negative sense, because again, arcee is old as balls and has seen much more of cybertronian history than everyone else around her, and understands him as a part of a cycle of history. she's seen the entire concept of a 'prime' be invented for political reasons and she's seen the original claims to that title fall; it's not that it means nothing to her, but it means something very different

and what i think i like best is that despite optimus screwing so much up during that part of the comics, in ways that specifically relate to buying into his own hype and misusing the power it affords him as a direct result, he clearly values keeping arcee around for this very reason. she punctures his ego with no fuss and is really the sole person not only willing but even capable of doing that. it creates a dynamic he has with her there's really not an equivalent to anywhere else. i really do love it. we need more of them being Weird Friends.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more:

I WISH WE COULD HAVE SEEN HER AND ANODE ACTUALLY INTERACT...... i love that they canonically know each other and i think they'd be a hysterically funny duo because they're both complete wildcards but arcee is from a fucking grimdark sci-fi epic and anode is from a heist movie about being a lovable rogue. all i want is for them to be the weirdest double act ever. arcee would definitely help anode and lug do a bank robbery but she has to keep being told to put the swords away. and the big gun. and the small gun. and-

and then they all go down the pub and tell extremely weird stories about their extremely weird lives. good times.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character:

arcee and prowl definitely have some kind of final talk post-canon that is very tense and awkward, and which arcee initiates specifically because the idea of leaving anything unsaid there (and therefore giving prowl any remaining emotional power over her, however small) pisses her off. it leaves her unhappy but ultimately feeling like she cleared the air and prowl feeling weird and uncomfortable and like that was the opposite of closure, i think. and now arcee never has to think about him again.

[mushmetre]

Thinking too hard about Transformers: Anatomy

The MTMTE/LL universe probably has my favourite canon take on Cybertronian anatomy, but the one thing that kind of bugs me is the existence of “nervecircuits.”

It seems to exist to make the characters feel the bodily pain they go through, but for transformers/robot characters in general, I don’t think it makes much sense for their species to have this, or is necessary.

Don’t get me wrong, the body horror in the series is phenomenal. But I think it all still works fine without the implication that Cybertronians have robo-nerves? Like the decapitated Ratchet scene was so effective because he woke up and couldn’t feel anything wrong with his body and the horror hits like a truck when it’s revealed what Pharma did to him.

(From MTMTE issue #18)

(From MTMTE issue #19)

Like I said before, I don’t really understand this when I think about it. The implications I read from these panels are:

1. They have “nervecircuitry” - this likely is circuitry that lines the bodies of Cybertronians that allow them to feel pain and other sensations

2. They have the ability to re-route nervecircuits somewhere else in their frame

3. From the decapitated Ratchet scene, there is some way to block all nervecircuitry. Or perhaps they cannot “feel” anything when they are offline/in stasis?

Why wouldn’t they constantly have their nervecircuits turned off when they’re war machines and constantly being torn apart and wrecked? And okay, I’ll turn to human anatomy for the answer: pain allows us to understand that something is wrong with our body and lets us know where and how to fix it. So it’s probably the same with Cybertronians. Maybe they turn their nervecircuits off for battle (though if I remember correctly, there are cases where characters are expressing pain during battle, and also why would Ambulon even have his on in this scene?) and then after battle when they are being treated by the medic, they are turned back on to diagnose what is wrong.

But… there are in-universe ways to diagnose what is wrong that work much better in my opinion? They are super robots. I’m sure they are advanced enough to get an error message flashed on their optics when a piston breaks or whatever (I think we’ve seen that in canon as well… I cannot think of an example rn though). And we constantly see bots hooked up to medical gizmos in medbays or scanned with doohickies by medics… we have also seen bots blown up and offline that medics are able to fix back up without them expressing their pain. If they had physical lines/circuitry throughout their frames dedicated to feeling, they would constantly be shredded to bits and impractical.

I do like the canon choice of Cybertronian’s sparks being able to feel touch. This to me makes more sense than them having pain receptors, and also scratches the itch of still allowing them to be physically intimate with each other that we all crave (I love the concept of spark-merging as a form of sex/intimateness/tender vulnerability).

(From MTMTE issue #19)

A lot of fics I’ve read use the idea that Cybertronians can feel touch, and I situate that within what I call “sticky universe anatomy.” The sticky universe encompasses any Transformers fan work that subscribes to elements from sticky sexual interfacing headcanons. Fanfics may not include any sexual content, but they might use anatomy headcanons that come from wanting Transformers to have sex. There isn’t anything wrong with that (I for one like to partake in this literature from time to time) but it relies on giving them human attributes and human bodily functions which for me personally, provides a disconnect that these are alien robots, and I lie awake at night overthinking Cybertronian anatomy (Ok but seriously, someone explain to me the conundrum of Cybertronian mouth anatomy). I have read a few fics that justify sticky sexual anatomy in great detail, but none that have justified the idea of nervecircuits.

I think physical contact is inherently something a lot of people crave in their romance and so it is inserted into their fics, which is sweet. But I also love to read unique headcanons or anatomy quirks people come up with that explore the innate mechanical-ness of Cybertronians.

I would love to hear someone else’s take on this; thoughts, feelings, the works. What do you prefer? I’m also a newer Transformers fan, so maybe J. R. has said something about this or acknowledged it, or there’s a headcanon/explanation adopted by the fandom that I’ve missed. Has there been any other examples of this in official Transformers media? I cannot remember 🤔

[fairykukla]

The sewing machine advice post.

Here's an introduction to sewing machines, from someone who has gone from "making costumes with a busted old machine I bought at a thrift store" to "Teaching how to care for your sewing machine as a living."

Read the manual. Can't find it? Don't have it? There are lots of PDFs online. The manual is going to tell you important things like which way to insert the bobbin and how to thread the machine. It will also tell you what kind of bobbin to use.

Get some more bobbins. The machine needs a bobbin that is wound with the same thread you plan to sew with. There are situations where you can use two different threads, but while you're learning, use the same kind of thread above and below. Follow the manual's instructions to properly wind a bobbin, and only wind one thread at a time on each bobbin.

Change the needle. I have a whole other helpful post about what kind.

When you put thread on the machine, follow each step and make sure the Presser Foot is in the "up" position before you start.

Right before you thread the needle, pull the thread to make sure it moves freely and isn't caught anywhere. Then, lower the presser foot, and pull again. It should be very tight. (If it is not tight with the foot down, raise the foot and re-thread the machine from the beginning.)

Find and get to know the Take-Up Lever. It goes up and down faster than the needle, and kinda looks like a dinosaur head. The thread has to be settled in the eye of the take up lever or your machine won't make a good stitch. It will go "stitch stitch stitch clunk bang stop." If the thread isn't in the take up lever, re-thread the machine.

You're going to spend a lot of time re-threading your machine. Gird your loins, and be prepared to do this.

Make sure you insert the bobbin correctly. Follow the manual. Once it is set in the bobbin case, the thread should pull tightly, not freely.

Your control of the fabric happens before the needle goes into it; your hands should be in front of the needle, not behind it. Don't pull the fabric from the back. Just guide the fabric from the front; don't push it or overdrive. Try using one finger on each hand to just keep the fabric straight while the machine feeds the fabric through.

If the fabric won't feed through properly, take the metal needle plate (AKA Throat plate) off and clean between the pointy bits that stick up through the needle plate. Those are the feed dogs and lint collects between them under the plate. Keep that area clear of lint and dust.

If the machine still won't feed properly, take it to a service technician. There may be a feed timing problem.

THE HAT TRICK: If you have a problem with the machine, do these three things:

Remove the bobbin, check it over. If the thread isn't wound on it properly, or if it's cracked or bent or rusty, it might be bad. Replace it if necessary.

Change the needle. Make sure the needle is inserted in the correct direction and that it is indeed inserted completely. (Choose the correct needle, too.)

Re-Thread the machine from the beginning. Make sure to hit each step, make sure the presser foot is up, and make sure to lower the presser foot at the end to check the tension.

This is really a beginner's list. There's a lot more, but I wanted to start simply. Please feel free to share it around, or add your opinions.

**My credentials: I've been teaching sewing, serving, and machine embroidery professionally for 20+ years. Been sewing for over 40 years. I'm also a trained sewing machine technician.

[livingdreams97]

Kylie Jenner -- "The Babysitter" (Part 2)

Kylie Jenner x fem reader/oc

Summary: Who would have thought that anwering to a babysitter job offer for the summer to a unknown family would let to meeting someone that would move your world.

Words: 4.196

PREVIOUS

Masterlist

Kylie POV

I change Stormi for a metallic bathing suit, so that I can match her and take some photos of us. We arrived in Mykonos yesterday afternoon, but we were all exhausted and all we did was have dinner together. After dinner everyone went to their room to sleep and rest for today.

Today's plan was quite simple. We would take a yacht and sail around the island, trying to have as little contact as possible with people and thus be able to enjoy some family time. 

We would spend the night on the yacht, so we had to bring a small bag with clothes and what was necessary for the night and the next day.

I already had everything ready. I am wearing a metallic gray bikini like my baby, with a short blue and white dress over it, esparto sandals and a white hat over my loose black hair. Stormi was dressed just like me, only she wasn't wearing her sun hat and she's wearing transparent children's sandals.

I also had the bag ready with tonight's clothes and tomorrow's clothes for both of them. So with the bag in one hand and my daughter's hand in the other, we walked to the outside table where is the rest of the family having breakfast?

Kylie: Good morning family.- I greet seeing most of my family sitting at the table and having breakfast.

Family: Good morning.- They greet each other happily and continue eating.

Kylie: Where are Kim and Kendall? - I ask between confused and interested, when the only ones missing are them and Kim's children and babysitter.

Khloe: They left ten minutes ago, because they already had breakfast and we had to go in different cars anyway.- she answers with a smile, as she gives True a spoon of fruit.

Kourtney: And Penelope has also gone with them, because they were going to choose the rooms and she wanted to share it with North.- she informs me, while I place food for both me and my daughter on our plates.

Kris: Anyway, we have to finish breakfast in five minutes and get on the vans.- she says looking at her wristwatch. -Because the yacht sets sail in forty minutes and the trip to the port is a little more than twenty.- she comments to us and we all nod in understanding.

We finished having breakfast and we got into two vans, since we all did not enter in one. I'm going with my daughter, Khloe, True, Dream, Kourtney and Mason. While in the other ban are my mother, Corey, Scott, Reing and Rob.

Khloe: Yesterday I couldn't ask you.- she comments turning to me, since we were in the same row. -But what did you think of Kim's new babysitter?- she asks me with a smile.

Kylie: I thought she was nice.- I answer in a simple way, without trying to tell her more.

Kourtney: Just that?- she asks me, turning around in her seat so she can see me and not turn her back on me since she is ahead of me.

Kylie: What else do you want me to say?- I ask her in my defense. -I didn't talk to her for a long time, because she was working and taking care of the children during the whole flight.- I explain to them, seeing how they both look at me with narrowed eyes.

Khloe: Well, something else girl.- she says a bit exasperated. -If you found her attractive, pretty, ugly or anything. We are not asking you much.- she says with a smile that I know very well.

Kylie: She's not ugly.- I affirm with a frown. -But I don't see why that should matter, Y/n seems friendly and quite efficient, but I don't understand what her physique comes from with her work.- I commented, trying to change the subject and evade any intention of my sisters about the girl.

Mason: Y/n is beautiful and she's very hot.- he comments with a big smile, making me give him a dirty look and the other two adults laugh.

Stormi: Y/n is very pretty.- my daughter tells from my lap.

Kylie: You should tell your son not to talk like that.- I complained to my sister, since it's a very vulgar way of referring to a woman, especially if it's about MY wife.

Wait what? MY wife, but I hardly know her and I know little more than her name, age and what she studies. What's going on in my head? She's not mine, much less my wife. She's just Kim's babysitter and nothing more than that. Although she is very attractive and her British accent turns my stomach in a good way.

Kourtney: Mason Kylie is right, you can't talk like that about a woman.- she claims to her son. -But he's not lying.- she says shrugging her shoulders.

Khloe: I agree with you Kourt, she has a body to die for and her accent is very sensual.- she tells her amused and biting her lip. -If I didn't like men so much, I assure you I would try something with her without any shame.- she says amused, making our older sister laugh and I look at her with a frown.

Kylie: That's what's stopping you from trying with her, that you like men too much? - I ask impressed and somewhat annoyed.

Khloe: Well yes.- she answers shrugging her shoulders. -I don't see any other reason why I wouldn't try something with her.- she comments without giving it much importance.

Kylie: I mean, having almost ten years more and a daughter is not an impediment for you.- I comment with a bit of irony.

Khloe: Well no, there are many couples even 30 or 40 years apart.- she tells me with a smile. -Besides that she's good with children, so I'm sure she wouldn't care much if I have a daughter or not.- she assures me with amusement and some malice.

Kylie: Whatever you say.- I say looking out the window, ending the conversation and thinking about the conversation we just had.

Ten minutes later, the van stops and parks at the entrance to the port. We got out of them, me putting my daughter on my hip and starting to walk behind my mother. The drivers will bring the bags onto the yacht, so I no longer have to carry her and I can hold my daughter in my arms.

Kris: Kim has told me that they are on the second floor where the pool is.- she tells the rest of us. -So now you choose your rooms on the lower floor and we all meet by the pool.- she orders us and gets on the yacht with Corey behind her.

We all do as he has told us, getting on the yacht and going down to the floor where the cabins are. I choose one of the first, since it is closer to the stairs and I don't have to walk that far to my room.

I enter finding a quite nice room, spacious and with what is necessary for a cabin for one night. I let the yacht bellboy drop my bag on the bed and with a little thanks he leaves the cabin. I begin to prepare myself to go up to the pool, to later prepare my daughter and be able to get together with the rest of the family.

POV You

I'm in the pool with Penelope and Kim's children, playing with them and entertaining them. We had reached the yacht almost an hour ago and still had about ten minutes to go before sailing. 

So Kim has decided to put on our swimsuits and play in the pool, so the children are entertained and tired by the end of the day.

I was with the children in the pool, along with Kendall and Kim is out sitting on one of the loungers and watching her children play. Pslam is in Kenny's arms, since he is still 2 years old and too small to let him loose in the pool. I hold Chicago when she gets tired in one arm while I play with North and Saint.

I had put on my emerald bikini, completely exposing my physique. You could clearly see my abs and the V, that thanks to all the exercise I do for soccer I have.

Khloe: The one you guys were crying foris here!- she shouts announcing her arrival and making all of us present see her.

Chicago: Tutu! - she screams excitedly from my arm, as soon as she sees her cousin and she runs towards us.

True: Chai chai! - she shouts, stopping at the edge of the pool.

Kim: About time you got here, we've been here for an hour and waiting for you all.- she complains to his sister.

Khloe: Not all of us have a sexy babysitter and brought her with us.- she comments and I can't help but laugh.

Y/n: Thanks for the sexy thing.- I appreciate jokingly, helping Chicago out of the pool so she can play with her cousin.

Khloe: Don't blame me, with that accent and that body you're almost irresistible.- she comments, staring at my abdomen when the water covers me by the waist and leaves the upper part of my body visible.

Kendall: Almost?- Confused question. -She's completely irresistible.- she tells her sister laughing and I splash her with the funny water.

Khloe: If she had a penis she would be irresistible, but since she doesn't it's an almost and a very small one.- she replies to her amused sister.

Kris: Leave the poor girl alone, Khloe.- she tells her playfully, appearing behind her with Corey behind her.

Kim: Yeah, leave my sexy babysitter alone and stop ogling her.- she orders her sister amused, who pretends to be indignant and walks to the lounger next to her.

Khloe: I'm not bothering anyone, right Y/n?- she wonders and I deny laughing.

Y/n: You don't bother me at all.- I answer with a smile, picking up Saint and taking him out into the water at his own request.

Khloe: See.- she says pointing at me with his hand. -Besides we're just kidding.- she tells her sister.

Kim: Whatever you say.- she says with a small laugh.

Kris: Let the holidays begin.- she says excitedly, with a glass in her hand and leaning back on a lounger.

Chicago returns with her cousin and I help them both get into the pool. While I watch them and play with them, Kendall and I pick up the thread of our conversation about classic cars because we both like them. 

I tell her about the dark chalk Aston Martin DB5 I own. My father gave it to me at 16 and we restored it together, as it was in very poor condition. A year later the car was like it was new and since I got my driver license that year I was able to use it from the beginning.

The only bad thing is that my car is in London and I can't use it in the United States. My parents offered to send it here, but I don't want it to break with the way Americans drive or something like that. So I prefer to use it when I come back to London and use my Jeep here.

On the other hand,Kendall owns an aquamarine 1957 Chevrolet Corvette, a red 1966 Ford Mustang convertible, a lilac purple 1964 Cadillac El Dorado convertible, and a black 1969 Chevrolet Camaro. She clearly has some awesome cars, plus she understands them and it's something we can talk about for hours.

Y/n: Well, the Austin Healey 3000 is very similar to the 1957 Chevrolet.- I comment with a smile, while I throw Chicago into the water and making her laugh.

Kendall: Yes?- she asks a little confused.

Y/n: Yes, my father has had a blue and white one for as long as I can remember.- I reply, throwing True now. -My father is fond of classics and he has always told me which car is similar to which one and even which one is better.- I commented to her, throwing Chicago again.

Kendall: What would you say is the car of your dreams?- she asks me interested, playing with Pslam in her arms and looking at me with a small smile.

Y/n: A matt black Aston Martin DBS Superleggera.- I answer her with certainty. -Yours?- I ask now, still playing with the girls and watching Saint, North and Penelope out of the corner of my eye.

Kendall: I think a 1967 Jaguar E-Type Roadster.- she answers me after a few seconds.

Y/n: It's a nice car.- I comment with a smile, and then I feel a little body throw itself onto my back and hug my neck tightly.

Kylie: Stormi be careful! - I hear the scream and when I see all the children except the one named, I already know who I have on my back.

Stormi: Hiiiii.- she greets clinging to my neck, making me and Kendall laugh at the girl.

Kendall: Hello Storm.- greets her with an amused smile.

Stormi: I want that too.- she says happily, separating from my neck and throwing herself strangely into my arms.

Y/n: What do you want little one? - I ask a bit confused.

Stormi: Throw me like Chi chi and tutu.- she tells me with a smile and I look at Kenny, who nods to me and I toss her a bit into the air so she falls into the pool.

Chicago: Me, me, me.- she says throwing herself into my hands and I throw her, then doing it with True, Stormi and Chicago again and so on for a few minutes.

Kylie POV

My eyes never leave the British girl. I closely observe how she talks animatedly with my sister and how she plays with my daughter and nieces. I can't help but watch her body over and over again, letting myself be delighted by her incredible body.

I have completely stopped disguising my looks, since I have joined the family and seen her in the pool, my eyes have been glued to her. 

Right now I don't care about my sisters, mother and family companions. Because all I can focus on is the 1.73cm, 19-year-old Brit and her abs. Who at that age has such a defined body? I do not understand it, but I will not deny that it is a gift for the eyes and for the imagination.

Kim: Stop violating my babysitter with your eyes.- she whispers in my ear and I turn my face towards her, looking at her badly.

Kylie: I'm not doing any of that, I'm watching my daughter and making sure nothing happens to her.- I say and I turn my gaze to where the girls are, but looking at my daughter this time.

Kim: Umjm, I'll pretend I didn't see you bite your lip and press your thighs together while you were staring at Y/n's abs.- she whispers again in amusement and turns to face the pool.

Kylie: Shut up.- I growl at her and go to Instagram on my phone.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, with the adults drinking and having fun, while the children play and are entertained with Y/n. I have to admit that all damn day, I haven't been able to go more than five minutes without looking at the nanny and her perfect everything. 

From the perfection of her smile, to her beautiful brown hair, her defined abdomen, her beautiful ass and all of her perfect being.

I know that Kim has caught me more than once, since she sends me suggestive looks and some reversed smile. But she hasn't said anything out loud yet again and she hasn't mentioned it to the rest of my sisters. So I have time to be calm, without my four sisters being on top of me and teasing me every second.

But I think Kendall has started to realize it too, since from time to time her eyes found mine on the girl and she looked at me somewhat thoughtfully. 

All because she has been with Y/n almost all day, helping her take care of the children and talking to her. Which if I'm honest, makes me a little jealous and it's not for less, since Kenny is a Victoria's Secret model and everyone loves her.

Kylie: I'm going to sleep.- I say with a bit of difficulty, now being 2 in the morning and because tomorrow I'll have a horrible hangover if I stay longer.

Khloe: Don't go yet, bitch!- she yells at me from the opposite sofa. -Take another shot with us and let's have fun, we're on vacation.- she says excitedly and clearly drunk.

Kylie: You drink that shot, I'm going to sleep and avoid looking like a zombie in the morning.- I say getting up and staggering a little with a little laugh.

Kourtney: Well be careful, don't fall overboard and be unlucky that your implants don't float.- she comments amused, causing laughter and some strange noise from those present due to drunkenness.

Kylie: Honey it's all real.- I say pointing to my body. -The one with the boob surgery is you, so be careful, those must already be expired and I'm sure they'll end up sinking you.- I say with a muffled laugh, pointing to her breasts and high-fiving Ken and Klo.

Kendall: That's my little sister.- she says, still laughing.

Kylie: Good night bitches.- I say goodbye and walk to the floor of the rooms.

As I walk the corridors of the yacht, I hold on to the walls and try to avoid a painful fall. When I get to the cabins I try to open my door a couple of times, but it resists me and does not open.

Kylie: Stupid door.- I mumble while trying to open it. -You only have two jobs, to open and close yourself and you don't even know how to do that.- I say staring at the door and giving it the middle finger.

I keep trying to open the door, while muttering insults and obscenities at the door. But this stays unfazed and still does not open. Until suddenly, the door opens from the inside and my mouth drops open in total surprise.

Y/n: Do you need something? - she asks hoarsely, rubbing her left eye with her hand and only in a wide short-sleeved shirt which is just below the butt.

Kylie: What are you doing in my room? - I ask confused, after getting out of my head and staggering a bit.

Y/n: I think you're making a mistake.- she comments with a beautiful laugh and I'm staring at her. -This is my room, yours is the one in front and has the number 3.- she says pointing behind my back.

Kylie: I like your laugh.- I comment gawking, ignoring what she told me and focusing on her face.

Y/n: Thank you?- funny and somewhat confused.

Kylie: You're very pretty.- I assure her with a goofy smile, staring between her eyes and her thin but soft-looking and plump lips.

Y/n: Do you want me to help you? - she asks even more amused and I just nod watching her. -Have you had a lot to drink?- she asks placing her hands on my shoulders and turning me around.

Kylie: I haven't drunk a single drop.- I answer holding back my laughter and clearly lying. -I just got dizzy.- I assure her, nodding my head at what i'm saying.

Y/n: I'm sure that's it.- she says, carefully opening the door of my room and guiding me into the cabin.

Kylie: Are you going to sleep with me?- I ask hopefully, like a little girl.

Y/n: Shhh.- she whispers close to my ear. -Stormi is asleep and it's better not to talk too loud.- she whispers again, causing chills in my body and getting me into the bathroom. -Now sit on the toilet.- she orders, pointing to the cup and looking at the things on the sink.

Kylie: But will you sleep with me?- I ask again with a pout, doing what she ordered and sitting on the toilet.

Y/n: I don't think it's the right thing to do.- she answers without looking at me, looking through my makeup products and looking for something between them.

Kylie: But I want to.- I whimpered a bit, running my eyes all over her body and trying to see under her shirt.

Y/n: I don't think you want to put a stranger in your bed with you and your daughter.- she points out the last thing, taking something and approaching me with it.

Kylie: You are not unknown.- I assure with certainty. -You are Y/n, you are 19 years old, you study architecture and I don't remember what else at UCLA, you play soccer, you are British; which is very sexy because of the accent and you work as a babysitter for my sister Kim. - I list with my fingers, watching how she denies amused and kneels between my legs.

Y/n: Even so, you don't know me.- she assures me with a smile, taking a make-up remover wipe from the package and bringing it closer to my face.

Kylie: And neither do you, but you are removing my makeup and helping me.- I say as if it were a point of weight. -Besides that you're between my legs and with this dress I'm sure you're seeing everything.- I say with a suggestive smile and she laughs, shaking her head.

Y/n: You're something else Kylie.- she assures fun, gently grabbing my chin and starting to remove my makeup.

Kylie: But I can be your something else.- I assure moving my eyebrows up and down suggestively and listening to her hoarse laugh.

Y/n: I think that tomorrow you will regret having this conversation.- she assures with a smile, concentrating on what she is doing and biting her lip for concentration.

Kylie: I'll only regret it if I don't do something.- I say with confidence.

Y/n: And what is it? if I can know .- asks curiously and I bite my lip in response.

But instead of telling her I just show her. I grab her face by the cheeks with both hands, pulling her to me and connecting our lips in a simple kiss. 

I close my eyes during the kiss, feeling the warmth and softness of her lips and the turmoil of emotions that a simple kiss is generating inside me.

Kylie: That.- I answer almost without a voice when I break away from the kiss, resting my forehead against hers and keeping my eyes closed.

Y/n: I... I'm... not but... but what? - she asks confused, separating our foreheads and making me open my eyes to see her.

Kylie: I like you a lot and I was going to regret it if I didn't kiss you.- I explain with a small smile, looking at her eyes and seeing a certain brightness in them.

Y/n: But I'm just the babysitter.- she says confused and I frown at that.

Kylie: And what has to do with it.- I say a little annoyed. -I like you, not what you work on or what you study, i like you and nothing else.- I assure pulling her neck and bringing her face closer to mine. -Sooo, do you wanna sleep with me? - I ask again with a smile.

Y/n: I like you a lot too, but I don't know if it's appropriate and a bit hasty.- she responds somewhat insecurely.

Kylie: Shut up and do what I ask.- I order and I kiss her again, but this time more deeply.

After kissing for a while, she finishes removing my makeup and helping me put on my night creams. I changed into some feminine white boxers and a wide blue stormiworld t-shirt to sleep. Y/n helps me get into bed with my daughter and finishes tucking me in.

Kylie: Where are you going? - I ask confused, grabbing her hand when she separates and starts to walk away.

Y/n: To sleep in my room.- she responds a little nervous.

Kylie: Stop fooling around and come inside.- I ordered with a smile, pulling her hand hard and forcing her to get into bed behind me. -Now hug me and be the big spoon.- I tell her and I turn around, turning my back and hugging my daughter to my chest.

Y/n: Bossy.- she murmurs in an almost inaudible way, passing her arms under my neck and over my waist.

Kylie: I've heard you.- I say giving her an elbow in the stomach.

Y/n: Besides being bossy, your aggressive too.- she assures with a very soft laugh.

Kylie: Keep going so you'll know what aggressiveness is.- I assure her, closing my eyes and relaxing in her arms. -Good night.- I whisper, feeling the heaviness of more eyes.

Y/n: Good night.- she whispers back, leaving a kiss on my shoulder and yawning against it.

And that's how I slept for the first time with my now fiancée. No one would say that this temporary babysitter would become my girlfriend and later my fiancée, with whom I would later marry. 

We would move to a house that she has designed herself and with which I would have two more biological boys and three more biological girls, besides Stormi for my part.

THE END