#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.

[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.

[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.”

[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

[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!

[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.

[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.*

[creedslove]

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART NINETEEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: Jack needs to go on a mission and leave you and Wyatt at home; it hurts him but he needs to get the job done, at the same time you and your son prepare yourselves for Halloween 🎃

(This is the nineteenth chapter of my HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• PART ONE TO EIGHTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst and overall no other warnings to avoid spoilers so you are on your own here besties

A/N: I missed our cowboy so much, my besties! As this is almost the end of our lovely story, we need to let him and sugar go with their happy ending, but of course there's still some Halloween treats going on. Also, kind of obvious but this chapter takes place on Halloween

5.8k words

If someone asked Wyatt exactly what a marriage was, he wouldn't be able to explain it properly, he didn't understand much about grown up stuff, it was boring and his little life of playing with animals and with his toys and eating his mommy's delicious food while being a cowboy with his daddy was way more important to him; however, Wyatt had watched enough cartoons to know that mommies and daddies lived together with their babies and his dad had told him that if his mommy accepted his surprise, then that would happen to them and he was excited about that.

Wyatt was so willing to have you and his daddy together for good, he took all the instructions Jack had given him seriously, because he wanted everything to be perfect for you, he wanted his mommy to be happy with his daddy after all, and for that, he would help Jack do whatever he needed, but luckily, his daddy's first instruction, apart from being completely silent about the beautiful, glowing ring, Wyatt was asked to act as normal as possible, so he could surprise you when the moment was right, and so was it that the next few days went by completely normal, you and Jack were going strong in your recent relationship as Wyatt was enjoying farm life more and more, and the very few times you actually had to go back to the city in order to pick up more clothes, check on your apartment and make sure everything was in order, your son was each time sadder and sadder to leave the ranch. He had everything he ever loved in there, a life with his mommy and daddy, animals, Silver Pony and Silver Star and the mere prospect of having to go back to the city scared him to death. He loved his home and his family and he had made up his little mind he wouldn't leave without a fight. Luckily to him, you also had no plans of returning to the city, as the weeks passed and your relationship progressed with Jack, you didn't see the need of returning permanently to the city. Of course it was still necessary to do so, eventually for some doctor appointments, shopping for new clothes and stuff like that, but if you were going to be honest with yourself, you also didn't see you and your son going back to a small, cramped apartment once you got used to that gorgeous ranch. It was beautiful, spacious and it had everything you needed; not to mention you had re-encountered love once more. Saying you weren't madly in love with that stupid cowboy would be a huge lie, it's not that you had ever fallen out of love with him, you hadn't, even during the worst time of your life and how cruel he'd been to you; you should have done it though, however, you simply couldn't. Even during the hard moments in which you burned with anger at the mere thought of what he'd done to you, that intense love was just there, underneath all. You had both dreamed and dreaded the moment Whiskey would walk back into your life not knowing what to do, and even if it was hard at first, then you were thankful it happened in a way you are able to see Jack really meant his feelings and you both couldn't fight the passion any longer, even if you still felt a paralyzing fear of being hurt, you decided to trust your man in your own terms: he had a chance, the only and final one, and in case he did anything to ruin that, then you and him would be history.

Luckily to you and Wyatt, Jack was nothing but the best and most caring boyfriend and father; all he wanted was to make sure you and your son were happy and well. He would spoil the two of you and do anything in his power so you would be next to him. He loved you more than anything in the world and his son was the most precious little thing he could ever ask for. He was taking care of his family like he should have from the beginning and there was no stopping him this time. That's why he went over his plan with Wyatt for several days, talking to his son and using his help to form an alliance in order to make you the best proposal he could think of. Yeah, you two had been engaged before your son's birth, but you didn't want it to be like that, especially because you both had come to an agreement of having a new beginning. So Jack kept your former engagement in a box and locked it in his closet, it was a pretty ring, but he still remembers coming home still feeling hot headed after the argument you two had over the revelation of your pregnancy. One of, if not the biggest regret he'd ever had in his life was definitely his reaction towards the news that changed both of your lives. He didn't know what to say or what to do after you broke the news to him, it was in fact, as if he had stopped processing facts for a while. However, when he finally realized what had happened it was as if something had broken inside of him, he felt as if he had lost the ground under his feet and above all, he felt betrayed, as if it didn't matter to you the family he had previously lost. Of course Jack knew that wasn't it, he knew he was severely mentally ill at the time and that was a reflection of it, and yet, he also knew he should have been a decent man for you and your son. But instead, he'd told you unspeakable things, he'd made you the vilest proposition someone could ever think of - for you to choose between him and your son - and he left you crying, on your own and went to a bar to get wasted.

When he came back home, all he found was the silence and emptiness he felt surrounded him and also around him. Your clothes, belongings, accessories, everything that made that home a little more yours than just his were gone, and the only proof you'd ever been there was the engagement ring you left on his pillow. You'd made your choice; you'd chosen your son.

So that was the whole reason why he thought it would be a nice idea to get you a new engagement ring, he had a feeling the previous ring carried a lot more negative meaning than the two of you would like to admit. Besides, he got to choose a brand new jewelry for you, not sparing any money - one of the greatest advantages of being a high profile Statesman employee after all. After gathering his son's help, Jack waited for the perfect moment, he was anxious and nervous, as he hadn't really planned on a specific scenario, instead, he tried to find a suitable time and place, feel in his heart when it should happen, preferably when Wyatt was also around, as your son showed great interest in it, being a supporter of the idea since the beginning.

It happened in the late afternoon, just a regular day of the week that ended up becoming one of the most special days of your life. You and your family had gone for a horse ride, Jack deciding - with your agreement - that Wyatt was already old enough to learn how to ride a horse, you three stopped by at the stables but the little boy went with Silver Star, which didn't stop her from trying to running and that lead your cowboy to use his lasso to stop her and your son from going too fast. On one hand you were a little scared, your heart racing from seeing your baby boy looking so big and independent from his parents, but also a huge wave of pride to see him becoming a cowboy just like his dad.

You'd made a basket with treats and sandwiches in order to have a picnic and the moment you three settled by the willow trees - one of your favorite places at his ranch - and Jack realized the sun was setting, creating the perfect atmosphere of laughter, happiness and a beautiful landscape. He winked and nodded at his son showing him it was time to propose to his mommy. Wyatt clapped his small hands in excitement and watched intently while the cowboy got on his knees in front of you, taking your hand and professing you love words. You knew what was happening, but at the same time it felt like you didn't, as your heart was racing so much and the tears simply couldn't stop clouding your vision. You held your breath the moment he showed you a brand new engagement ring, it was one of the most beautiful jewelry you'd ever seen in your life and there was no way you could ever say no to that.

The moment Jack finally asked you the question, proposing to you and you said yes, it was as if time had stopped and there were only the three of you in the world, your happy little family, you, your son and your future husband. You had said yes and that was how you were officially engaged to Jack Daniels once more.

•••

"Sugar, listen to me…" Jack placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer "it will be a short mission, in a few days I'll be back home, I ain't even looking towards any women, you know they don't compare to you. I've never been unfaithful to you and I ain't starting now sugar…"

You could see the honesty and pleading in his eyes and even if it was recomforting to be assured like that by him and acknowledge how dedicated he was to you, however, you would be over the moon if your concern was reduced to only a bunch of whores throwing themselves onto your man.

"Cowboy, it's not it, I mean, I know you're faithful and I'm also faithful to you, and I will always be… but I'm scared and worried. You remember what happened on your last mission… I don't want that to happen again, I mean, I don't even want to think of the slightest possibility of it, please. You have a family now, me and Wyatt, you are leaving us home, but we want you here with us" You used just about the same pleading eyes in order to convince your cowboy to stay, you couldn't place your finger exactly on why you were so anxious and needy, but if it were up to you, you'd use his lasso to keep him tied down to your bed, not letting him leave at all. You felt so vulnerable without even understanding why, but your biggest desire was to be held by him and assured he wouldn't move an inch away from you. He placed his hands on the side of your face and stroked your cheek so gently, affection and love pouring from him as he saw you looking so helpless at that moment. He leaned in for a kiss and smiled

"It will be fine, sugar. It will be just a few days as I said, I'll be alright, keep my ass safe… you know it's an emergency, that's why Champ called me, I will call you every day, and I'll make sure to keep you updated, I have a gorgeous family to come home to, and I ain't never let that go, now please, help me out because I can't have two sad puppy faces staring at me like that without breaking my heart" he pointed at Wyatt who pouted and looked at his daddy's bag. You felt emotional and didn't know exactly what to do, but you nodded, as your future husband needed help. He was the best damn agent that place had ever seen, of course he would come back home safely.

You wiped your tears and lowered yourself, picking up your son and snuggling him.

"Don't be upset my angel, daddy will be gone just for a little while, right daddy?!" You looked at him, who picked up the cue and nodded

"Yeah buddy, daddy will be away for a couple of days to work, but I need you to be a strong cowboy and take care of mama, can you do that for me?" Wyatt nodded reluctantly, his red eyes almost making the cowboy turn around and give up the idea of going to work. He couldn't though, otherwise he would've done it once for all. The cowboy couldn't resist the urge of wrapping his arms around his son, pulling him for a tight embrace.

"You know daddy loves you and mama more than anything in the world, right? It will be for a short while, and soon enough I'll be here for you, remember you wanted to go out trick or treating? Daddy promises he will be back before Halloween, okay?"

After Wyatt nodded, sighing but snuggling him and you also pulled him into a real needy and long hug, leaving home to go on a mission was definitely the hardest task that cowboy had done; he questioned himself if he was doing the right thing, after all, when he got suspended from Statesman, all he wanted to do was get back on the field and show them all he was still a top notch agent, the best they'd ever had and that he could handle any kind of situation, but once he saw how his family felt anxious and upset about him leaving, he felt tortured to go to work, he didn't have to, he had plenty of money and wouldn't need to work violent and dangerous job now he was settling down once more. Still, he felt like he owed that to Champ, even if he disappointed the older man with his bad conduct during the last mission, they still shared a very special bond - Jack was like the son Champ never had, and the younger cowboy envisioned the older one as a fatherly figure. No wonder why Jack ended up only in therapy after nearly sabotaging such a serious mission instead of going to prison. He hopped on his Bronco and drove to the headquarters, trying not to think much of his broken heart to be gone.

The first night was rough without your cowboy, even if Whiskey had called, and then he had video chatted and talked to both you and Wyatt, it was still so sad and lonely without him. Worse than the years you spent alone with your son, the absence of Jack now was depressing, after staying with him, living almost an endless honeymoon it was upsetting to say the least. That night, your sweet Wyatt snuggled closer to you in bed and you only fell asleep with your face buried deep into his curls.

What really changed your routine happened the morning after Jack left; it was as if you knew something was up but you couldn't actually get a hold of it, instead, you simply woke up with the worst wave of nausea you'd ever witnessed. It was odd, you hadn't had dinner the night before nor eaten anything suspicious, so the first thought that crossed your mind was immediately dismissed. You couldn't and you wouldn't.

As much as you tried to push aside those thoughts, they insisted on coming back whenever you got distracted, you tried your best keeping your mind busy, focusing on the son you actually had. So you and Wyatt spent most days together, playing, cooking and baking, even if the slightest food smell made you feel sick to your stomach and riding and petting the horses. You knew Halloween was approaching and Wyatt was excited to go trick-or-treating, as it was going to be the first ever Halloween his daddy would be a part of it and even if you two had actually to drive downtown to do it, as the ranches were too apart from each other, you still promised him you would carve the pumpkins with your son, and you sort of kept your promise, if it weren't for the fact the moment you began cutting open the pumpkins, the smell was enough to make your stomach twist and you had to rush to the bathroom, however, this time wasn't possible to hide it from your son, which caused Wyatt to run to you worriedly

"Are you okay mommy?" He asked you while placing his small hands on your back "can we call daddy please?"

You shook your head and smiled weakly at him

"No baby, mommy is fine, I just got a tummy bug, that's all" you assured him, even though you knew there was more to it and you simply just didn't want to admit it. You asked your son for a bottle of water from the fridge as you grabbed your phone and checked the app you used to keep your cycle in check and even if you knew the answer, a part of you was still so stubborn you couldn't bring yourself to believe it. Taking turns between checking your app and the calendar, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting yourself digest the information that your period was late.

There was a huge chance you were pregnant again.

You couldn't sleep at all that night, tossing and turning in bed and playing the most different scenarios in your head. Jack would be happy, wouldn't he? He was the one who was insisting on having a baby, but you also terrified yourself at the possibility that maybe, he was just trying to convince you to marry him. What if he changed his mind and panicked? What if he never came back from the mission? No, you shook your head and squinted your eyes, trying to physically keep your anxiety away from you. The very little you managed to doze off were filled with dreams about you and the cowboy getting into a huge fight and breaking up. That was something that couldn't happen, you knew your heart wouldn't take that kind of disappointment for a second time, and if he even threatened to walk away from you both, well, from you three, you would never see him again.

But a part of you desperately begged you to calm down and relax a little, maybe you weren't even pregnant, you couldn't say for sure without a test, and all of that could've been just a mind trick after panicking so much at the idea your body actually began reproducing that kind of symptoms. It wasn't the first time your period was that late and it could have been a stomach bug, after all you hadn't been eating well since your cowboy left you a week ago. There was still at least another one to come and the idea of actually buying yourself a pregnancy test was horrifying. However, since Wyatt started asking you to dress up as a zombie cowboy, you knew you would have to buy him some things such as fake bruises stickers and a costume hat, as you wouldn't risk ruining the beautiful and expensive stetson Jack had gifted your son. It would be the perfect excuse, you would do some Halloween shopping and also get yourself a test, everything would be just fine, you assured yourself, after all, you still had a small hope in your heart things were nothing but your mind playing tricks on you.

The next morning, while Wyatt went to get dressed as fast as he could so you both could go out and get him his costume, you watched yourself in the mirror. We're your breasts larger? You didn't know if they actually were or if you were under the wrong impression, if Whiskey had been there, he would be able to tell it immediately. In fact, he would probably be the first one to even notice it. Then you stared at your stomach, was it a little swollen or you were just getting paranoid? As you were lost in your thoughts with your blouse lifted you felt tiny hands on your tummy and looked down at Wyatt's smiley face staring at you

"You look so pretty, mommy!" He said happily and smiled big at you, his small arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his head against your womb and sighed deeply. He was an affectionate boy, but he had never done that before… Why start it now?

You stroked his curls very gently and lowered yourself to his level

"Do you think mommy looks different?" You asked

"No, just pretty" he shrugged happily and ran outside the bedroom.

•••

Another week had passed without any confirmation nor denial; you simply didn't have the guts to take that test and see for yourself if you were indeed pregnant or not. You talked to your cowboy every single night, and even if he thought it was odd you weren't up for some web sex with him, he didn't push it, as you simply lied by saying you were on your period. Whiskey could tell something was off, but he assumed it was just a combination of his absence and your tiredness. Besides, Wyatt was staying up later each night, so he could talk to his daddy which caused you both to behave yourselves.

You had taken Wyatt out for shopping, he'd bought as many Halloween things he wanted, you also bought some extra candy just in case some trick or treaters passes by the ranch, which you thought it wouldn't happen, but you didn't want to risk not having any and while your son was too distracted by the shampoo aisle - you'd asked him to pick the best shampoo to wash his hair - you grabbed your pregnancy tests. Tests. Because you wouldn't trust just one, so you decided three would be a decent enough number. It broke your heart to see how sweet Wyatt was the moment he spotted a mother shopping with her baby girl. The moment he saw her, he giggled and rushed to them "look mommy! A cute baby!!!" Wyatt had squealed just as you hid the tests under a bunch of other stuff you followed him, smiling at how sensitive your son was. You nodded and agreed with him, playing with his soft curls.

Not only that, after the episode, Wyatt spent the whole week asking you about babies. If you thought they were cute, if he was a nice baby, if you and his daddy had a baby would it be a normal baby or would it be a cowboy baby. In other circumstances, you would be very amused by his questions, but given what was going on, you felt extremely anxious about it. Perhaps that was the whole reason why you kept postponing the test for days; however, you knew Jack was about to come home any day now, and you needed to have an answer, it wasn't fair to you or him, not to mention he would see right through you and figure something was definitely wrong. So the day before Halloween, you made your son dinner - chicken nuggets, mashed potatoes and peas, his favorite - and played with him until he fell asleep. When you were sure you wouldn't be interrupted, you finally took courage, grabbed your tests and followed the instructions.

And the wait began.

And it felt like forever, until the whole three of them showed the lines indicating that indeed, you were pregnant.

You didn't react for several minutes, perhaps it was the shock, even if you deep down inside already knew you were expecting a baby. You were going to be a mom, again. You got pregnant by the man who abandoned you and your son once, would it go wrong this time? You didn't want to believe it, at the same time you were flooding with all kinds of anxious thoughts and feelings. You wish you could just curl up on the couch and fall asleep until you could come up with a solution to that situation, but Wyatt's fast steps drew your attention "mommy!!! Help me get dressed!!!" He giggled as he barged in his cowboy outfit, holding his fake blood and wound stickers. His excitement was so adorable, it made your heart warm at how cute he really was. You wrapped your arms tight around him, pulling him closer and snuggling your son. He was a little confused at your affection but giggled "help me mommy!" He asked as he couldn't wait to go out.

The moment you saw your son, your heart warmed and filled with love, he was so precious, the most important little thing in your life, and you'd just learned you were growing a new life inside of your womb, his baby brother or sister, you didn't know, but at that moment, only Wyatt mattered, the way he looked so excited, his little chocolate eyes glimmering you decided you would stop feeling sorry for yourself, you were a grown woman, you had been through a pregnancy once and you could do it a second time. No matter if your cowboy was going to step up or not, though you hoped really hard he would, you would focus on your son, making sure he had the Halloween he had waited for all along.

•••

Wyatt jumped excitedly, although he still held your hand and smiled big

"I got a lot of candies, mommy!!!" He giggled as you carried his bag which was indeed way heavier than what it could be considered healthy. His costume was adorable, a mix of zombie and a cowboy as he fit in perfectly with the other kids. You had driven downtown where all the people gathered and enjoyed the festive day, seeing how your life would be like for the following years. You knew Jack had no intentions of moving away, definitely not going to the city, which you also agreed. You liked that atmosphere, the small town kind of warmth, it was nice and you also remembered you would need to start looking for a new school for Wyatt. And not only that, you would need to care for a whole new baby, and Jack wasn't even there to calm you down. And that was when it hit you: he hadn't called you that night, even worse, he had promised you and Wyatt he would spend Halloween with you both, as a family, but instead, he had established no communication and a wave of anxiety and worry rushed through you as you began picturing the worst possible scenarios. The story of Jack nearly dying his last mission, the cruelty of the death he nearly faced still haunted you and you would be lying if you didn't wake up quite a few times at night after having a nightmare about losing your cowboy. You couldn't give into those horrible thoughts, not at that moment, your son was happy, you were spending a very nice time together and if it weren't for the fact a lasso wrapped around you and Wyatt, making you both stop dead in your tracks…

And a lasso?!

You and Wyatt exchanged confused looks before turning around and facing Whiskey's shit eating grin as he was in his fight position, lasso in hands and looking every bit of devilish handsome he always did. Damn, stupid pregnancy hormones.

"DADDY!!!" Wyatt's deafening squeal was enough for Whiskey to loosen the rope around you both as he opened his arms to receive his son's sweet hug. They had missed each other so much, he couldn't even believe he had actually had the guts to leave his family to go on a mission, but the important thing was that he was back, in time to spend one of his son's favorite holidays. He wrapped his arms around Wyatt and snuggled him, kissing the top of his head and ruffing his hair gently, loving his costume, and chuckling at the enthusiasm in which your son told his daddy every single little thing that happened the days he spent away. And then it was your turn to rush to your cowboy, being too emotional after everything that happened, including the mini internal meltdown you had at the mere fear he had died during the mission, you rushed to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. Your cowboy was finally back home, to you and your family, and you couldn't be happier as you needed him more than anything now.

Jack was so happy at the warm welcome he received from his family and he knew that was exactly what he wanted all along; he wanted to have a good reason to come back home to, and now he had it. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you for another kiss, he saw how beautiful you were, you were almost glowing and there was something different about you even if he couldn't actually tell what it was.

"I missed you sugar" he whispered against your lips and looked down as Wyatt kept tugging at his sleeve, wanting to spend some time with his daddy, after missing him desperately

"Come on daddy, let's trick or treat!" Wyatt begged with his cute puppy face, his energy restored to the fullest now he was surprised by the wave of excitement at the fact his father was there, for him and for his mommy.

•••

Jack had returned from his mission just about an hour before meeting his family, he thought of calling you and let you both know, but instead, he decided to surprise you and it couldn't have been better. He knew you two would be downtown, so it wasn't difficult to spot his family, but as much as he wanted to come closer, you were both walking fast at a reasonable distance from him, so the best idea that came to his mind was simply using his lasso on the two of you, which was both funny and cute, since you never saw it coming, but to him, the best part was when the two of you rushed to him, as if he'd been gone for months instead of just two weeks. It made his heart clench with love and affection, he was finally home, with his family and he cherished that like no other. The way they spent the rest of the evening walking around, getting Wyatt more candy, then they stopped by a small cute place to have some corn dogs and then the three of you headed home.

Wyatt only fell asleep after hours home, he had eaten some of his candy, while you figured what you'd do with the rest of it since it was way too much. Your cowboy had barely taken off his jacket and was already all over Wyatt, leaving you some time for yourself, in which you showered, and got ready for bed. You still didn't know how or when you'd break the news to him, but you felt your stomach twisting the moment you saw him walking towards you with a bottle of wine. You couldn't drink that, what were you supposed to say? Luckily to you, Jack hadn't insisted and even if he was a little suspicious, he didn't question you why you'd said you had a headache, though he seemed a little disappointed to miss you the opportunity to have a drink with you, he still kissed your lips gently and went to shower, needing the relaxation and the hot water pouring over his sore shoulders. He was so happy to be home, all he wanted was to finish his warm shower and get under the covers with his sugar, so he could relax and enjoy a moment of peace. Once he finished showering, he decided to shave, wanting his face to be smooth as possible in case his sugar decided to ride her cowboy. It didn't take him too long to finish, just a little trim on his mustache and he would be good to go. He didn't know exactly why he looked down, at the trash can, but for whatever reason he did it, and at first when he saw those boxes in it, he thought maybe they were antibiotic boxes, but that didn't make any sense, if either you or Wyatt got sick to the point of getting antibiotics you would've said something, so the cowboy squinted his eyes in order to take a better look at it and felt his heart skipping a beat the moment he realized it was indeed a pregnancy test.

In fact, it wasn't just a pregnancy test, there were quite a few boxes, which meant you really made sure to know whatever the result was. Now, it deeply saddened him to know why you hadn't said anything, you hadn't even mentioned the suspicions you had; and it also made sense why you were acting a little off. Jack shook his head and swallowed hard, he had desired to have a baby with you, another one, to give your son a baby brother and sister, and it hurt him to see you decided to be silent about it because he had hurt you way too many times. However, he couldn't simply shrug it off and pretend nothing had happened, he needed to talk things through and for that, he took the proof into his hands and went after you.

•••

When you heard Jack calling your name instead of 'sugar' you knew something was wrong. You swallowed hard, knowing something was up, just by the way he walked towards you. Your heart neatly dropped the moment you saw exactly what he was carrying. That was not how you wanted him to find out about things, you wish you had prepared him beforehand, talked to him or perhaps prepared him a cute surprise, you weren't sure, but you were so scared.

"Is this what I think it is? Are you really pregnant sugar?"

"I-I am so sorry Jack, I didn't mean to get pregnant, it was an accident, I didn't want to do that, please don't be mad and don't leave us, please" you begged but you were interrupted by the cowboy falling onto his knees in front of you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and with tears in his eyes, he lifted your shirt up only enough to see your belly. He placed an affectionate kiss to it and rested his head against it in complete silence. He didn't need to say anything else, he was hopelessly in love with the fact he was going to be a father again and this time he would do things right.

____

A/N: I hope you besties enjoyed this chapter, because the next one will be the end of this beautiful series 🥺❤️

[sixisnotaprettynumber]

This might be a controversial opinion but I think the possession scenes in s2 were not only necessary for Ben’s character but also the characterizations of the Hargreeves’ siblings in general, if only because it re-establishes two of the main issues that they struggle with due to the abuse they suffered as children - being unable to comprehend autonomy and struggling with gaining (and lacking) control.

From the beginning of s1 it’s shown that despite the majority of the siblings’ strained relationship with Reginald, they all still play the parts he assigned to them well into adulthood - Luther is the ever-loyal golden child, Diego is competitive and rebellious but is still playing hero through his vigilante work, Allison has completely leaned into the fame that her powers and the Academy got her, Klaus is the failure that never managed to reach his true potential and Viktor is still ordinary. And when Reginald (while unbeknownst to the siblings) creates a plan for them all to return home and band together, they ultimately end up following through.

We don’t get to really see this with Ben though. Sure, he gets onto Klaus about his addiction - but that’s not a control thing, that’s just because he loves his siblings’ and wants his brother to be safe and healthy, right?

And to an extent the answer is yes. Obviously he loves Klaus. Obviously he wants the best for him. But I think that it’s telling that Ben’s method of trying to get Klaus sober relies on prioritizing other people - specifically himself. In fact, his main argument for Klaus getting sober is because his addiction makes Ben feel like he has no input or control.

And while it comes across as being self-centered, it (in my opinion) shows that the siblings’ genuinely view having some sort of control/input to be important - and they equally expect the others’ to understand why they are upset when they don’t have it.

This leads directly into the possession issue in s2. Ben - who’s been dead for seventeen years, whose Dad methodically stripped away his and his siblings autonomy as children, whose sister literally has the power to make people do whatever they want, whose body acts as a host/portal for a horrifically violent eldritch being - sees an opportunity for control. And he takes it! Because obviously. Who wouldn’t?

While we the audience know that behavior is wrong and invasive - the Hargreeves’ don’t. Their idea of privacy and free will - and honestly just ethics in general - is super screwed up. Even Diego - whose strong moral compass is one of the biggest aspects of his character - doesn’t view Ben possessing Klaus as wrong. To him, it’s a joke at best and irritating to Klaus at worse. It’s a part of a bigger pattern seen with the siblings throughout the show.

Losing autonomy is just normal to them. It doesn’t even cross their minds that they’re being cruel to one another - this is especially true when it comes to Ben and Klaus’s relationship! They aren’t trying to hurt each other in s2 (for the most part), they’re trying to annoy one another - they just grew up in an environment where they never learned where the line was.

Now, I’m just going to end this here because otherwise I’d just keep rambling on about how this relates to the lack of boundaries between the siblings (specifically Klaus and Ben) in general or how it reflects Ben’s view of the horror or a million other different things. Thanks for reading if you’ve made it this far - but I don’t blame anyone who didn’t.

[tiny-tini-imagines]

Hi, read your headcanons about the fellowship and wanted to ask for some HC's about Legolas being in love with an elf reader. Preferably female, if that's possible. THX

Re.: Of course, Thank you for asking. I often thought about that, so I hope it's alright.

Headcanon Request - Lord of the Rings summary: Legolas is in love with a female elf

(added: character art, what they would say to them, or about them)

Stolen Glances: Legolas can't help but steal glances at you when he thinks no one is looking. His eyes find your effortlessly, and he cherishes the moments when your gazes meet, a silent exchange of your affection.

"In your eyes, I see a world of wonder and courage, and in your heart, I find the most beautiful melodies of love and strength."

Whispers in the Woods: You often communicate through soft, whispered conversations in the heart of the forest. The tranquility of the woods mirrors the serenity of your love. Although you don't need words at all to comunicate.

Language of Flowers: Legolas memorizes your favorite flowers and leaves them where you'll find them, each bloom carrying a message of his love and admiration. (And he definitely knows the meanings of every single flower, everytime you get a bouquet it's like a poem)

Hidden Keepsakes: In his private quarters, Legolas keeps small trinkets and tokens you've given him over time, treasures he holds dear and takes comfort in during lonely nights, or when your away/ when he misses you.

Stargazing Together: One of your favorite pastimes is stargazing. You find constellations together, creating your own stories in the night sky and lay there for hours.

"Among all the stars in the night sky, it is your radiance that guides me through life's journeys, and I am forever grateful for your presence in my world."

Comfort in His Presence: Your presence brings Legolas a sense of calm and contentment. He often seeks solace in your company during moments of reflection. (You'd often find youself with him in your arms, stroking his hair, comforting him - especially after disagreements with Thranduil)

"My loyalty to you and our people remains steadfast, but my heart has found a home in a world beyond the borders of the Woodland Realm." Legolas to Thranduil

Loving Affection: He expresses his love through affectionate gestures, like gentle caresses, forehead kisses, and tender embraces. He's very soft, always making sure you're comfortbale

Your Laugh: Legolas adores your laughter. He often finds ways to make you smile, cherishing the sound as one of the most beautiful melodies in Middle-earth. It is not just the sound but also the sign, since he loves to see you smile. (He goes to great lengths to bring joy to your life, whether through humorous stories or playful antics.)

Shared Silences: You're comfortable in each other's silence. Sometimes, words aren't necessary as your presence alone brings peace and contentment. You just need to know that you're close.

Fingers Intertwined: Legolas has a habit of gently intertwining his fingers with yours whenever you walk side by side, a silent declaration of your connection. He'd also do that during audiences and other commitments he must attend.

Attentive Listener: He's a patient and attentive listener, valuing your words and insights and seeking your opinions on important matters. However sometimes he just enjoys listening to your voice, that gives him a sense of comfort

Your Elegance : He admires the way you handle your bow and arrows with such grace. It's a skill that he finds endlessly captivating. He'd often say that you're much better than him (something he would tell no one else).

Pride in Your Strength: He takes great pride in your strength, both physical and emotional, and often tells you how impressed he is by your abilities

Gentle Respect: Legolas treats you with the utmost respect, always considering your thoughts and feelings in any situation.

Secretly Protective: While you are a formidable warrior on your own , Legolas can't help but be secretly protective, always watching your back in battle and ensuring your safety. (You're definitely more important than him)

Your Name in Elvish: He often murmurs your name in Elvish under his breath, finding comfort in the way it rolls off his tongue. You can catch him smiling whenever your name is said.

Eternal Commitment: Legolas contemplates the idea of eternity together, envisioning the ages you'll spend side by side, facing whatever challenges comes your way.

Confidant and Supporter: You're his confidant, and he turns to you for advice and solace in times of uncertainty. Your unwavering support is a source of strength for him.

Shared Adventures: He involves you in his adventures, wanting to create memories together and share the thrill of exploration.

Unspoken Promises: You share unspoken promises of a future filled with love, adventure, and unwavering devotion, with every glance and touch reinforcing your commitment to each other.

"Every day by your side is an adventure worth cherishing, for you bring light to the darkest of places and joy to my soul."

[asynca]

Just an observation from an Australian just folllowing the discourse:

Mocking third-party or non-voters as stupid, selfish or uninformed is super unhelpful and also makes you look kind of ignorant.

Many third party voters know they are ushering in Trump in doing so, and in voting third-party they are registering their dissent in the Democrats. They KNOW it will fuck up America and many people in it, including themselves. Many third-party voters have skin in the game. They are choosing their own suffering because they believe America falling apart or decending into civil war is literally the only way to fix it - otherwise, it's too far gone. It's a form of revolution.

In their opinion, America gets away with fucking up the world and the people in it benefit from the fuck-uppening of the rest of the world. They see it as a kind of justice for Americans to finally suffer from the chaos they deliberate sow in the rest of the world. Americans get to only think about themselves a lot and ignore literal genocide their party is enacting elsewhere.

America as you know it will not survive another Trump presidency in its current form. And its current form is fucked. They are choosing temporary facism to re-form America and fix its currently unfixable problems.

Now you can disagree with them that this is the way to fix America - that's totally legit. There's certainly a lot to criticize here. It will cause YOUR suffering and the suffering of many innocent minorities. They see it as necessary to stop America literally continuing to actively destroy the planet and all the other countries in it.

So when I see videos mocking third-party voters insinuating they're stupid... this is only for your benefit and the benefit of people agreeing with you. If you actually want to convince other people to vote blue you're going to need to reassure them the Democrats can fix the unfixable problems, not continue to demonstrate how insular and polarized and disinterested in other people most Americans are.

I say this as an Aussie who also doesn't want to see a fascist America, btw. But you need to stop ignoring the real reason people are protest voting and acting like they're all idiots who don't know what they're doing. They know. Both sides of this think the other side is selfish and stupid and not engaging with each other and having real conversations will literally cause FASCISM.

[balkanradfem]

I was thinking the other day about how often biblical stories imply that any sort of species can be started with just one and one female of the species, and sells this as the correct (maybe only correct) way to start things. Like Adam and Eve, they're supposed to be the starters of humanity, one (presumably young) male and one again, presumably young woman.

It repeats again with Noah's ark, where two animals of each species are collected, one male and one female, so they could all 'start their species anew'. Noah's family also is presumed to be the regular, one male + one woman, enough to re-start the humanity.

I understand that these stories were written to establish and force the idea of nuclear family being necessary, good and the start of everything, and if you don't think further than 'oh yeah one male and one woman are capable of making a baby' and you stop thinking there, you might be sold with these stories. But if you think about it for a second further, the implications of this are absolutely atrocious.

One young male and a young woman, are never accompanied by their parents or their grandparents in the stories. They're purposely isolated from their families, or are presumed to not even have family, which means none of them has any support, anyone to go to for advice or help, nobody to rely on to do the massive amount of labour of having and raising even one child. This is already where it falls apart, two young people do not have the knowledge, experience or wisdom to raise a small child, alone. They need their mothers, they need their grandmothers, they need elders and community in order to be able to function - first of all tell me who is delivering that baby they're having? Where is her midwife? It's never mentioned how she gets through childbirth in those stories, apparently she just 'figures it out', while in reality birth is dangerous, and women need both emotional and physical support during labour. There's nobody in this story who knows how to deliver the child safely, or how to save one or both of them should the things go wrong. They both have a chance of dying and then the species is dead. This is all ignored and pretended not to be an issue.

So next in the story we're led to believe that these two young people have made a (mistake) baby and are raising it alone and this is fine. Even funnier is that they often first have a male baby, as an effort to repopulate their species, I mean yeah thats gonna do you a lot of good for sure. Two young people of the opposite sex, without any elders, community, family or support, have one significant power imbalance - the male will usually be physically more powerful, while the woman will be more intelligent, resourceful, adaptive, thoughtful, resilient, and infinitely more vulnerable during the times of labour. It has been shown again and again, that in these circumstances, males do not find it appropriate to protect and treasure the women, but they use their physical advantage to overpower and control her, and her reproductive abilities. But in the stories this is 'fine' because she should 'listen' to this dumber, bigger, less intelligent, more aggressive, more demanding, more exploitative, more dangerous, less useful creature who is completely parasitic and depending on her kindness, intelligence, ability to make food, reproductive abilities and sense of forgiveness of his crimes towards her, to survive. Women are apparently just supposed to be hosts for parasitic males, while isolated, not given a way to overpower him except poison, which is then again depicted as 'bad' because she should just resign to live in servitude to the creature if she wants to prove that she is 'good'. This is bullshit.

Let's look at the next stage, where even more disasters await us. So they raised their child, or children, who have only had these two people to look up to, so they've likely picked up the patterns of 'male is to be served or violence happens, women need to keep their head down and obey or the violence happens', and now the children are supposed to repopulate the species. With? whom? This concept relies entirely on incest? With children who have been raised on learning the massive power imbalance? We're supposed to have sisters accept sexual slavery from their brothers at this point, if we want to have a species of humans? The bible is promoting this?

The bible at this point realizes they've fucked up and write down 'well the sons just went to the nearest village to find girlfriends' OH YOU NEED A VILLAGE NOW DON'T YOU? Now you remembered that actually no, you will now rebuild a species without just one male and one woman and in fact, villages are necessary, and your story leads straight into incest and sexual slavery of women. Presumably the women in the village have whole families and not just two people put in this unnatural position of parasitism and power imbalance. But we don't know, we're supposed to remember 'one male + one woman is correct and nothing else is okay', when the concept is fucked up from the starts and they eventually cave and introduce a village, but do it casually like it doesn't really matter and the story totally wouldn't end up in forced incestuous pregnancies and making a mess of human gene pool.

It was so important for the bible to establish, and re-establish this concept because that is the only way for males to be able to isolate, use and control young women. The concept where women don't have their own mothers, grandmothers, sisters, aunts, families, friends, and villages to protect them from abuse, that is the only scenario where one male can sit on his butt, call himself the 'provider' and then raise his voice and his hand whenever she doesn't do exactly as he says. It's disgusting, and there's nowhere else this can go except abuse. Males will never be unwilling to use their physical advantage to hurt and control women, and we've watched it for centuries, they were more willing to kill women than to accept that we have the right to vote,, the right to divorce them, the right to abort at will (they're still more willing to kill us than to accept this right). No woman is safe in an union with one male, without her family, friends, and a network of support. To live her entire life normally, she needs to rely on the knowledge, experience and wisdom of her elders, so she wouldn't have to do everything alone, and learn everything alone. Male, in return, usually learns all the tactics of manipulating and isolating a woman and will use those, so she needs to be ready and have strategies to defend herself, to be able to escape if it comes to that.

And sometimes, even when the woman has all the support in the world, the male still ends up killing her, because he gets a chance to do it, and it's always at the distraught and horror of everyone who loved her.

Thinking back, the concept of nuclear family had to be invented because males didn't feel like they were able to control the women enough. They likely needed to establish this because they noticed that women were able to go on uncontrolled, they were too 'free', too supported, too resourceful to just trap and control. They needed to convince women that the right thing to do was be alone with one male person who just happens to be stronger and that in fact, not doing so is dangerous and wrong. The concept of nuclear family put the control right in their hands where they wanted it, and it's still ongoing, and we're sick of it. It's a trap.

If you don't believe these stories have influenced our views, think about how males sometimes dream up concepts where they're the 'only male left on the planet', in company of the woman who they're interested in. They relish in these fantasies because they believe in that scenario, they're entitled to rape her. She isn't entitled to resist because then she's responsible for the downfall of humanity, for not repopulating the species, and they feel that this responsibility has to fall so heavy on the woman's shoulders that she will not possibly try to resist him. Women still do, women say right away that if they were the last one, they'd kill themselves instantly. Because we know and understand there's no repopulating the planet with just male and one female. There's just female sexual slavery and incest.

Possibly even the story of Adam and Eve is just a fantasy concept of one male who looked at a woman who was able to say no to him, and thought 'well, what if we were the only humans existing. How would she be able to refuse me then'. And he realized she couldn't. So he wrote it down and sold it as the ideal utopia created by god himself. And we've all been hearing his fetish fantasy like it's gospel. And then the rest of the story is focused on how wrong Eve is for resisting the rules of the male, and the even more powerful male god, how she'll be punished for eating a piece of fruit. We should have never fallen for it.

[zazzedcoffee]

There are polls on 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 dot com

Quite a few people have been asking how I have been making these polls. To make them I have been using the Tumblr API. While it is currently undocumented – there is a polls API route that allows you to post and get poll data. While the Tumblr UI puts quite a few restrictions on how many polls can be in a single post and when polls finish, the API currently has no restrictions on this*.

Poll Behaviour

Each poll and poll answer has a uuid tag (a "client_id") that should, ideally, uniquely identify each poll and poll answer. Silly things start to happen when you make a post with two polls with the same client_id, or one poll with several answers with the same client_id. This is how I made this monstrosity.

Polls also have an "expire_after" tag that allows you to set the deadline for the poll. While the UI restricts this to one day or one week, you can put in any time you like for this. This is how I made the 50-year horsie poll and whatever this is.

There are other fun things like being able to put newlines in polls which only display on mobile for some reason.

Can you make polls like this too?

Yes. In fact, from the beginning, I have had a python package that handles posting polls in a public GitHub repository. All you would need to do is register an app on the Tumblr API to get the various necessary authentication tokens and go ham**. Just be warned, I don't intend for this to be a fully-fledged implementation of the Tumblr API, but it gets the job done and will be useful for a few other projects I'm working on. I don't know when they are planning on adding polls to the API docs, or the official Tumblr clients – but I presume that by the time they do, these zany polls will sadly be no more. It seems like the polls API is still being worked on and I can imagine a lot of these issues (I call them features) being fixed. So let's have fun with it while it lasts.

Making your own fun poll

Let's try to recreate this post using my tumblr-dot-com package. Following the example on the readme to set up a tumblr object for your blog with the necessary auth tokens, the post can be constructed as:

# ... snip content = ( Content() .poll( "Wie cool ist das bitte?", [ "Jetzt zocke ich Fortnite", "und trinke Cola", "YIPPEE!" ], option_uuids=[uuid4()] * 3 ) )

res = tumblr.post( content=content, tags=["Yippee!!", "polls"], )

# ... snip

Here, the post content is being constructed with a single poll block – the option_uuids is an optional list parameter that allows you to pass custom uuids for the poll options. Here, the option_uuids is being set to the same uuid repeated three times – which causes votes to be counted for all three options at once.

I hope you enjoy this fun little tumblr client – again, it doesn't implement everything from the tumblr API but should be good enough a least to have a play around. Just a final note – since the polls API is not yet final, I am expecting some of the poll-specific behaviour of this client to break at some point – so be warned.

Notes:

* Beyond the other API post restrictions. And, this is probably going to be patched (see this comment).

** This may make your Tumblr account look suspiciously like one of the pretty lady spam bot accounts causing your account to get blasted like mine did.

[pigdemonart]

Do you ship Fox and Krystal?? Because they were my childhood 🥺 baby's first otp yknow

hahah I do! But with a BIG asterisk. Putting it under cut for INSANE STAR FOX RAMBLINGS

* <- the big asterisk: I ship them, but like I also am okay with them not being end-game. I think their relationship could be so much bigger than that!! OK so, let me explain. When I was a kiddo I shipped them! I was a baby furry and I loooooved that there was a playable girl character in Star Fox FINALLY (though, you know that was for only a split second bhnjmk) But now, I just think the way they were both written in the games was a little boring and one-note. Also just uncomfortable at times, since her first appearance Krystal was made out to be weird kinda-fetishy, sex-appeal and not much else. I don't think that's a controversial statement though LOL Later games I don't much feel for their chemistry either, though they have cute moments here and there. The more interesting parts about them is when they're not seeing eye-to-eye and they're apart from each other, honestly. So in my drawings I was picturing something less canon and more re-imagined. Krystal is the lone survivor of her race and she's on Sauria trying to find the truth about what happened to her home planet while also aiding the local wildlife. I don't imagine the dinosaurs speaking much in my version, but Krystal is telepathic and an empath, she can read their minds well enough to talk to them and be understood. I imagine also she knows about Andross, but doesn't believe he's the reason her planet was destroyed (there's disagreements on if that is canon or not, and I think its pretty silly to blame every bad thing on the one guy.) I think it would be fun if Krystal (never being encased in a crystal because that plot was dumb) meets Fox on Sauria early on in the events of Star Fox Adventures. I mean it would have been GREAT if Krystal was his partner, instead of Tricky. Though in the drawings I included Tricky too, cuz why not? I like the dynamic of Krystal being kind towards all living creatures and Fox having to learn to keep up with that. Nature never seemed like his -thing- ya know. See I like the idea of their personalities crashing a lot at first. They are from different cultures and backgrounds, their understanding of Lylat history is different -- Fox being from Corneria means he views the war against Andross as a necessary thing, something Andross brought on himself and eventually paid for with his life, not to mention the death of his father weighs heavily on him forever. Krystal disagrees, being a firm believer that war is never the answer and the price of peace for some came at the cost of the death of others, including her own people. Like...DO YOU SEE HOW MUCH THEY WOULDN'T MIX, they are just too different and too caught up in their own life missions to really get the other's intentions. But then in spite of all that, they become friends. I think my ver. of Krystal while looking down on Fox somewhat for being a mercenary would also be intrigued by him. She would want to know how exactly this guy and his team defeated Andross, and from there know more stories about his life. Likewise, Fox being stuck on ground on Sauria with Krystal I think would open his eyes a bit more (lmao touch some grass for once) and they would at least bond with each other while also helping each other stay alive. I think they realize on their own that they each bring out good things about one another... at least at first.

In the games Krystal is pretty much assimilated into Star Fox and we don't really see how that happens or how she really feels about it. We just know she eventually breaks up with Fox and cuts ties with the rest of them, something that broke my heart when I was a kid, but I'm not super against or in disagreement with. Personally I just think her sort of beliefs and upbringing would have never lent itself well to the line of work Star Fox does, at least not so easily. It came off to me like she was a young woman caught up in a romance that felt right at first and then became bitter and unfulfilling once reality set in. And in my eyes, I think its more interesting if she becomes disillusioned with Star Fox and the Cornerian Defense Force because, put simply, Krystal isn't pro-military. And that's sad...but it's pretty raw, too. And I love my stupid children's game about furries in space being full of dark themes!! Nintendo already set the domino pieces up, I just feel like we never got to see them all come tumbling down. We were teased with possible ideas that the Cornerian army and General Pepper were morally grey and that Andross had good intentions mixed in with every totalitarian thing he did. Krystal even is the one to defend Andross in one scene in Command, which is fucking crazyyyyyyyy!!! but it doesn't GO ANYWHERE -tears hair out- But anyways, as you can see Fox X Krystal drives me insane. /pos There isn't really an ending I love or subscribe to the most from Star Fox Command. That game really just threw a lot of the fans for a loop with all the drama and "bad," not super fulfilling ends to beloved characters. Though, that being said, I lowkey like the Kursed/Krazoa arc for Krystal, I think it's like an interesting path for a character like her. Like yeah, turn this woman into a hardened butch bounty hunter!!!! why NOT!!! She'd get under his skin better than Wolf ever could!!! Plus, how often does a pairing go from friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-strangers?? Fox can't recognize the love of his life anymore because she's been fundamentally changed by the world HE introduced her to. Now they both gotta live with that with Sauria being nothing but a distant memory. It's tragic, it's messy, it can go in so many different directions and I just think these furries should yell at each other for my amusement. anyways that's all. :] i'm actually normal about them tee hee.