#but I need to put the ideas down in some way or they are going to flee the freaking brain fml

[lorddeathofmurdermountain]

I'm sure nobody needs me to specify my agreement that women DID have a hard time in the world of art in general (bit of an understatement, huh?), but I'd like to focus on today.

Men get to go in the woods - in reference to the tags - I'm sure. Women... Still kind of don't. Mostly because something as isolationist as that is only really permitted to men. As a man, I'm comfortable acknowledging this even as my own situation doesn't support that idea. It's not hard to see the common sentiment. However, I want to examine the inverse; not for causation, but just to point out some correlation.

So. Men get to go into the woods. Why? Because it's generally accepted that the only way men are allowed to deal with difficult emotions is to brood silently. We can't cry, we can only really get angry in very specific, socially acceptable situations - usually an imminent issue rather than a long-term effect of something - and we most definitely can't open up, not unless it's to someone extraordinary or, once again, in the very few socially acceptable instances where a man gets to open up.

Women are more or less the opposite. They're encouraged to always, eh, "unburden" themselves from feeling bad by sharing their plight. Women also regularly get to explode in anger, or cry, or even throw a tantrum and largely even other women can't or won't comment negatively on this (at least not openly) and while I won't pretend to understand how the life of a woman works, we have enough resources to see how the differences in the way we're allowed to handle our emotions affect our daily lives. From trans people encountering social issues from a sudden shift in expectations (in either direction, mind you) to regular clashes born from being used to different methods and/or expectations of problem-solving, a lot of the reasons of why things are the way they are come down to the stigmatization of the other gender and forcing people into nest, rigid little boxes that don't really make sense at all - unless, of course, you were taught to put them there from the start.

I hate the “Thoreau’s mom did his laundry” criticism so much, it drives me crazy.

Henry Thoreau did not go to Walden Pond because he thought it would be a fun adventure. He went into the woods because he was deeply depressed and burnt out. He was running from the horror of his brother and best friend recently dying in his arms, and the haunting memory of causing the Fairhaven Bay fire. His friend Ellery Channing literally gave him the ultimatum of either taking some time off to write and think, or else be institutionalized.

I think Thoreau’s mother saw her depressed son choosing to retreat into a small cabin in the woods, and was worried about him. Of course she did his laundry - just as Ralph Waldo Emerson probably brought him firewood and bread. These were not chores of obligation to support a “great” man, but services of love to help their deeply depressed 28yo son and friend.

And if you ask me, there’s a lesson in that - to “suck out the marrow of life” and “live deliberately,” one must also accept help offered from the people in your life who love you. There is no true transcendentalism or individualism without love and friendship behind it.

[bippot]

Sick Little Baby

Story Summary -> Poor Eddie didn't show up to school because he has a bit of a cough and Wayne needs his rest, so his best friend and her puppy are willing to come to his aid.

Tags -> Domestic Fluff, Sick Character, Cutesy, Friends to Lovers, Caretaking, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Would you prefer to read this on AO3? Click here!

Skipping school was practically Eddie's signature move - his go-to, if you will. He’d done it so often that the members of Hellfire Club barely batted an eyelid when he mysteriously vanished during lunch. Perhaps he was off sealing some shady deal, or maybe he was just blissfully snuggled in his bed back at his trailer, or, let’s be real, maybe he simply didn’t feel like showing up. But there was one day they could always count on him to be there - Thursdays, the sacred day of their campaign. It was a non-negotiable rule: no Dungeon Master meant no game at all as that was just downright impossible. 

Dustin, ever the charming little shit, decided it was high time to check in on their favourite troublemaker. "I’ll call," he proclaimed, but as the idea marinated, he quickly reconsidered. “Actually, you do it,” he whined and thrust a slip of paper with Eddie's number into Y/N's hands like it was a ticking bomb.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “Oh, what’s the matter, Henderson? Are you scared Wayne will answer?”

“Yes. He’s terrifying, and he knows you.” Dustin exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Terrifying? Come on, Wayne is not scary.” She chuckled, thoroughly entertained by the dramatic antics of the younger boy.

“He is too,” he shot back as if that would somehow bolster his argument.

Dustin huffed, his arms crossed, throwing a challenge her way with his pout. If she continued her teasing, he had the perfect ammunition to retaliate - after all, he had witnessed that embarrassing moment when he caught her doodling Eddie's name in her notebook while Mike took what felt like an eternity to figure out his next move during one of their sessions. Dustin had leverage, and he was not shy about wielding it when the moment called for it.

With a teasing grin, Y/N sidestepped him and snatched up the phone, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Henderson, you are a complete pussy.”

"Yeah, yeah. Just call the damn number."

Y/N took a deep breath and dialled the number, her fingers dancing over the keys like they were playing a lively tune. "Munson residence," came a gruff voice, thick with sleep. It had to be Wayne. Had they disturbed his slumber? Poor guy probably worked the night shift and was running on fumes. The thought made her stomach twist with a pang of guilt.

"Hey, Wayne. It's Y/N," she chirped, trying to keep the mood light.

"Oh hey, youngster." Wayne's voice brightened, and she could practically picture the warm smile that surely graced his face. Honestly, she had no idea why Dustin was so scared of him. The man radiated a laid-back charm that could put anyone at ease, a stark contrast to Eddie's frosty family atmosphere. Sure, Wayne was a bit rough around the edges, but it only added to his character - a man forged by countless night shifts and the pressures of life. He had always treated her with kindness. 

She sheepishly twirled the phone cord around her finger, feeling a hint of embarrassment. "Did I wake you? I'm so sorry - "

Wayne's chuckle interrupted her, “I was already awake, kiddo. Eddie’s been coughing all morning long.”

In the background, the unmistakable sounds of Eddie's smoker's cough echoed through the receiver, the harsh notes of it painting a vivid picture of the scene - Eddie huddled under a mountain of blankets, the world outside a distant memory. "Yeah, that idiot boy has come down with a cold or some shit." She could almost hear the eye roll in Wayne's voice as he continued, "He ain't sick enough to quit smoking, though."

Despite the concern that washed over her, Y/N couldn’t help but tease, "Yeah, Ed smokes like a chimney." She tried to ignore Dustin, who was prodding her ribs insistently, a mischievous glint in his eye as he urged her to spill the tea. "Do you need anything? I can always swing by the pharmacy on my way home and grab some stuff."

A hearty laugh erupted from Wayne. "Be my alibi when I strangle him? He’s been keeping me from my beauty sleep," he quipped, a playful bitterness colouring his words, which made Y/N chuckle softly.

"I could always look after him if you want to catch some Z's before your shift tonight. I don't mind, really." The prospect of taking care of Eddie sparked a glimmer of excitement in her. With Hellfire cancelled for the evening, she had to find something to fill her time, and homework? No, thank you. "My parents are on holiday, and my house is eerily quiet. A coughing idiot could liven the place up a bit."

Wayne paused; the line filled with the distant sounds of Eddie's coughs and the rustling of bedsheets, and then after a moment, he finally replied, "I knew you were my favourite of Eddie’s friends for a reason." A smirk came upon his face as he added, "Just don’t kill him."

A grin broke across her face, lighting it up like the summer sun. “I’ll do my best. I’ll swing by and pick him up after school.” 

“Okay. Thanks a tonne, kid. I owe you big time.” He replied, his voice bubbling with gratitude. “Talk to ya later, alright?”

“Later, Wayne.” 

Once the call ended, she turned her attention to her friend, and what a sight he was. Dustin wore a smirk so smug it could rival the Cheshire Cat, that knowing glimmer in his eye making her roll her own in playful defeat. “Shut up,” she sighed, but there was no real annoyance behind her words; they both erupted into laughter.

“Oh, Eddie. Let me take care of you, my sick little baby,” he teased, his impression of Y/N so awful it was almost a performance art. She playfully thumped his arm and shook her head, a blend of exasperation and delight making her cheeks bloom a rosy pink.

“Shut it,” she chided, but the warmth in her voice said otherwise.

In a comically exaggerated fashion, Dustin turned his back to her, wrapping his arms around himself as he began to mimic smooching sounds, his voice soaring higher. “Mwah, mwah. One day, I’m going to be Mrs. Munson, just you wait. Eddie. Yes, I will marry you. I will bear your fuzzy-headed offspring. Mwah. I just love making out with you so much -” 

He was on a roll, completely unaware of her absence until he spun around to find she had already scampered off. The phone line had captured his ridiculous declarations, leaving whoever had walked by to possibly think he was just a boy doing something incredibly peculiar. One girl shot him a look, silent but clear, her expression tinged with a certain judgement.

With Hellfire postponed, Y/N dashed off for Eddie's place the moment the bell rang - well, she made a quick stop at the drugstore first, but Eddie was on her mind - and when she arrived, the older Munson looked every bit as worn out as she anticipated. What was left of his hair was in a wild disarray, sticking up like he had just wrestled a tornado, and dark circles hung beneath his bloodshot eyes like heavy shadows. He sported rumpled clothes that had seen better days, clearly a sign he hadn’t showered yet. And as soon as Wayne spotted her car pulling up, he playfully nudged Eddie out the door with a grin, “There she is, your knight in shining... dungarees.”

Eddie looked just as bad, if not worse. He was bundled in a thick hoodie and sweatpants, with a blanket haphazardly tied around his shoulders like a makeshift cape. Yet, even this cosy ensemble couldn’t stop him from shivering. In a valiant but ultimately futile effort, he had tied his hair into a messy bun that was mostly falling apart, and his nose was a bright shade of red, his expression screaming, ‘Yeah, not my best moment.’

Rolling down her window, she couldn’t help but tease, “Wow, you look like hell.”

“Thanks,” he muttered sarcastically as he climbed into her car, a small smile teasing the corners of his lips as he closed the door. “How would you like it if I said you looked like shit?”

“I said you looked like hell, not shit,” she shot back, her tone light.

“Oh, so I don’t look like shit?” he questioned, a playful glint in his eye.

“Nope. You do.” 

Wayne waved a grateful goodbye and retreated back inside the trailer, likely seeking the sweet embrace of sleep he desperately needed.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, glancing at Eddie, who was still cocooned in his blanket, looking every bit the part of a cosy burrito.

He shrugged, leaning forward with a playful tilt, elbows perched on his knees, as he gazed out the window like a weary traveller searching for a glimpse of adventure. “Like crap, actually,” he admitted, his voice still heavy with sleep, before turning back to her with an exaggerated pout that could’ve melted glaciers. 

Oh, that pout wasn’t exactly doing him any favours. It made her giggle - a little snicker that was probably a bad idea considering the fierce glare he shot in her direction - but honestly, it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should have. It was downright adorable, especially when they finally reached her house, and Eddie shuffled toward her front porch like a toddler, clutching his blanket as if it were a trusty sidekick against the Arctic chill. In that moment, his grumpiness was more endearing than serious, and she couldn’t help but smile.

As soon as she flung open the door, a whirlwind of fur came barreling down the stairs, a puppy racing toward them in a blur of excitement. She crouched down, letting the little furball sniff her hand before scooping him up into her arms. “I missed you too, Chewie,” she declared with a laugh as the mini Briard showered her cheek with enthusiastic licks. Y/N chuckled, scratching behind his floppy ears, and cradled him close as they ventured into her cosy haven.

Eddie, however, made a dramatic beeline for the couch, flopping down with a theatrical sigh, wrapping his blanket tightly around himself like a cocoon. He buried his face into the throw pillow, surrendering to silence, except for the occasional cough that escaped him. “You okay?” she asked, gently placing Chewie on the couch beside him. Eddie merely nodded, pulling his blanket even tighter, like a protective shield. “You hungry? Thirsty? Got a headache?” 

“Yep, yes...and yes.” He rubbed at his temples, glancing her way with those big brown puppy-dog eyes that made her heart do cartwheels. Even without the actual words spilling from his lips, she could feel his silent plea of ‘Please?’

Without a second thought, she sprang into action to gather what he needed. “Go cuddle up to Eds. He needs it, bud,” she urged Chewie, who seemed to understand her perfectly, and the dog was instantly bounding over to Eddie as if he were a little guardian of comfort. 

A few moments later, Y/N returned, triumphantly carrying painkillers and a water bottle, only to find Eddie deep in conversation with the puppy about absolutely nothing in particular.

Eddie eyed them with faux suspicion. “Cyanide?”

“Belladonna,” she quipped, grinning.

With an exaggerated groan, he extended his hands to accept the items from her and downed them like a champion, returning the empty bottle with a satisfied huff. She held up her hand triumphantly—two out of the three checks complete. But one crucial task remained. 

“Food, please,” he whined, pouting just like he had in the car. 

She dashed off to the kitchen as she went to warm up some soup. It might not have been a culinary masterpiece fit for a five-star restaurant, but it was quick and simple—a cosy hug in a bowl. The aromatic waft that filled the air was enough to elicit an adorably goofy grin from Eddie when she brought it to him, as if she had just served him the finest feast in the universe. In that blissful moment, all the worries of the world faded away, leaving just the two of them basking in the comforting warmth of home.

Once the bowl was safely in his grasp, she settled in beside him, propping her feet up on the coffee table with a satisfied sigh. At first, he gave her a strange look, as if she had just sprouted a second head, but once she asked, "What? Do you want me to feed you too?" 

With a cheeky grin, she snatched the spoon from his hand and teased, "Here comes the aeroplane for the little baby boy," her voice taking on an exaggerated tone that could make anyone chuckle. Now, she never would have expected him to actually open his mouth and let her feed him, but there it was. The joyful face he made while she did it made her realise, "You love being coddled, don't you?" 

His small nod confirmed it, though he looked about as sheepish as a child caught with its hands in the cookie jar. He glanced at her with a mix of curiosity and mischief, and she merely shrugged, continuing to spoon-feed him. The silence that enveloped them was blissfully comfortable, broken only by the occasional slurp or a light-hearted cough that made them chuckle together.

As she placed the spoon back in the now-empty bowl, she suddenly felt a gentle tug at the side of her shirt. Looking down, she spotted Chewie, who had snuck in and was now cosily sprawled out beside them, resting his chin on Eddie's knee. A warm smile crept across her face as she lovingly scratched behind his ears, eliciting a happy wag of his tail.

"Thank you," Eddie eventually said, joining in on the ear-scratching. She nodded absentmindedly in acknowledgement, setting the bowl down on the coffee table before stretching out on the couch next to him. Just as she was about to close her eyes, he broke the serenity with his heartfelt words. "For taking care of me. And Wayne, I guess."

"It's nothing. You're my best friend, Eddie, and you know I'd do anything for you," she replied, her voice low and sincere, yet buoyant with warmth. There was something about hearing those words that made Eddie feel lighter, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She didn’t say it often, but when she did, it rang with more meaning than a thousand other affirmations ever could.

To her, Eddie was family. A fierce loyalty and protective love wrapped around her heart for him. He was a wild mix of annoyance, stubbornness, and a bit of childlike wonder, but that was what made him so endearing. She loved him dearly, and caring for him felt as natural as breathing.

Speaking of her loveable crew, it was time for Chewie's dinner. "I know you're comfy, but do you want your food? Dinner time?" She called to the eager pup, her voice slightly higher, infused with excitement. Watching as his tail wagged in a frenzy, ready for his meal, she couldn’t help but giggle. "Let's go then. Lead the way."

Chewie bounded off to the kitchen with uncontainable energy, his tiny legs a blur. He was such a little guy, but his enthusiasm was boundless. He darted across the kitchen floor, barking joyously as he made a beeline for his food bowl, practically vibrating with impatience as he waited for her to prepare his meal. Her heart swelled with affection as she realised that her dog and her best friend shared so many similarities.

"Hey, hey buddy, slow down," she teased lightly, watching as Chewie practically inhaled his dinner. "Jesus fucking Christ. Breathe a little, babe." 

Returning to the sofa, Y/N felt Eddie lean against her shoulder the moment she settled in, his contented sigh enveloping her in a warm cocoon of familiarity and affection. Time seemed to pause as they lingered in that embrace, Eddie snuggling closer, melting into the comfort of her presence as if she were a soft, reassuring blanket that shielded him from the chaos of the world. Y/N's fingers instinctively found their way to his wild mane of hair, a playful smile dancing on her lips as she gently tugged at the scraggly elastic band he had used as a makeshift hair tie. With tender care, she began to untangle the messy strands, laughter bubbling between them like a sweet melody. 

It was a simple moment, but it felt as if the world had faded away, leaving just the two of them wrapped in their own little universe. She could hear his quiet intake of breath as he closed his eyes, surrendering to the soothing sensation of her fingers weaving through his hair, combing out the tangles and transforming his chaotic locks into something almost presentable. The gentle rhythm of her touch was hypnotic, and he found himself wishing it would last forever. 

Soon, his hair was tangle-free, and with a playful grin, she decided to plait it for him, her movements fluid and graceful. Chewie returned and contentedly settled himself on Y/N's lap as she worked. With each passing moment, the bond between them deepened. She finished the braid and took one of her hairbands from her wrist, twirling the hair into a bun and securing it with a tie, her fingers brushing against his skin in a way that sent delightful shivers down his spine.

"There we go. You’re so pretty," she cooed in his direction, her voice dripping with affection. The satisfied hum that escaped his lips was music to her ears, and the smile that lit up his face made her heart flutter. Now that his hair was styled, she suggested, "How about we watch a video?" 

Y/N already had a movie in mind—one she knew would perfectly align with Eddie's quirky tastes. Repo Man, a beautifully weird film about cars and extraterrestrials, was just the ticket, especially since her dad had rented it right before her parents went on holiday and it had to be returned soon.

As she sprawled out on the couch, lying back against the cushions, Chewie decided to awkwardly slot himself in the gap between her shoulder and the back cushion, falling asleep almost instantly. However, Y/N was taken aback when Eddie crawled on top of her, resting his head against her chest, a blissful expression plastered on his face. "Your boobs are comfy," he whispered playfully, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

She rolled her eyes, a laugh escaping her as she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him closely, feeling the warmth radiating from his body. He sighed contentedly, resting his cheek against her upper chest, watching the film in peace. Minutes passed, and he couldn't help but revel in the feeling of being with her - how safe, how cherished, and how utterly happy he felt. 

Slowly, he lifted his head and turned towards her with a questioning gaze, his heart racing in anticipation. Y/N smiled warmly, raising an eyebrow and waiting for whatever stupid comment he might share. Then he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'm sorry if you get sick too now."

Her hand came up, brushing away a stray strand of hair from his eye, and she murmured softly, "It's okay, big guy. If I get sick, you'll have to take care of me." His heart swelled at her words, and a soft chuckle slipped past his lips. "I promise I'll be half as whiny as you." 

The moment felt charged, and he found himself unable to hold back. "That's okay. You could be twice as whiny, and I would still love you."

The blush that crept onto Y/N's cheeks illuminated the space between them, and when she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, murmuring, "I love you too," he knew he hadn't imagined the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

At first, he had mistaken that feeling for the side effects of being under the weather, but no, this was different; this was pure bliss. Pure joy. This was love, unfurling gently like petals in spring.

Settling back down, he gave her collarbone a light peck, lost in the comfort of her warmth. Soon, he drifted off into a serene slumber, completely oblivious to the world around him. He didn't notice the way the corners of her lips curled upwards as she glanced down at him, her heart swelling with affection at the sight of his peaceful expression, knowing that these moments were precious.

Chewie was the first to wake, his tiny paws padding across the soft fabric of the couch as he stood and wandered over Eddie's back. Despite the fact that the puppy barely weighed anything, Eddie stirred at the gentle pressure, groaning as he opened his eyes to find Chewie standing over him with an expectant look. Eddie tried to stay nestled against Y/N, but he knew he had to shift so she could get out from under him. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he shifted awkwardly, failing to see how entertained she was as she watched him struggle to lift himself out of grogginess.

With a gentle kiss to his temple, a silent apology lingering in the air, Y/N slid out of the cosy groove they’d created on the couch. She scooped up her feisty little pup just before he could unleash a series of enthusiastic yaps that would shatter the peace. Chewie was set down, and off he dashed, zooming around the room in wild pursuit of his favourite chew toy, a little bundle of energy that could brighten anyone’s day.

Y/N glanced back at Eddie, and she couldn’t help but melt. There he was, adorably tousled with bleary eyes struggling to stay open, looking like he’d just rolled out of a dream. The sleepy blush dusting his cheeks added to his charm as he yawned and stretched, the blanket slipping off his shoulders like a forgotten shawl. 

His shirt had hiked up a bit, revealing a tantalising sliver of bare stomach, and for just a moment, she found herself completely mesmerised. Eddie caught her admiration and arched a brow playfully, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “What’s up?” he asked, his tone light and playful. 

Y/N shook herself from her daze, cheeks warming as she tried to divert her gaze. “Oh, nothing. Just, um... nothing,” she stammered, the words tumbling out in a fluster.

“You don’t sound very convincing,” he quipped, his fingers lacing around her hand, sending sparks of warmth racing up her arm.

Despite her best efforts to fight it, a blush crept onto Y/N's cheeks, and she quickly realised she was battling a losing game. Maybe it was time to surrender and let her cheeks flush naturally. "You look really cute right now," she admitted shyly, her heart fluttering as the heat radiated from her face like the first rays of morning sunshine.

Eddie's grin widened, revealing his adorable dimples, his eyes sparkling with mischief and delight that felt like the sweetest kind of magic. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” he remarked casually, his gaze appreciatively tracing over her as she bent down to toss Chewie’s toy across the room. The sight of her, all playful and carefree, sent warmth blossoming in his chest, chasing away the remnants of sleep that still clung to him like a stubborn shadow. Even though he felt a bit under the weather, watching her was like a dose of sunshine that brightened his spirit.

“So,” Y/N began softly, her voice tender like a soft lullaby after launching the toy into the next room, giving them a moment of peace, “How are you feeling now? Do you want anything?”

Chewie strutted back, triumphantly dropping his toy at Eddie's feet, his tail wagging like a tiny flag of victory, all too proud of his fetch prowess.

“Well...” Eddie mused, scratching the back of his neck in that adorably awkward way that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “My head is still pounding a bit, and my throat feels like sandpaper, but hey, I’m not dizzy anymore.” 

Moments later, she returned with a tall glass of cold water, sunlight glistening on the droplets as if it were a little sparkling treasure. She felt her breath catch at the grateful smile that spread across his face - infectious and warm - and it lit up his features like the brightest star in the night sky. 

“How did the Hellfire boys take it?”

“Like champs,” she replied, brushing a stray hair from his cheek and tucking it gently behind his ear, her fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. “Mike was a bit grumpy, but when is that boy ever in a good mood? Gareth, Jeff, and Nate were their usual gracious selves. Lucas had basketball practice anyway.”

“And Henderson?” Eddie enquired, a smirk spreading across his face, the corner of his mouth lifting mischievously.

“Dustin was too busy having a blast making fun of us. Well, mostly me, but you were the reason.”

“Me?” Eddie feigned disbelief, laughter bubbling up in his chest, his voice rich and melodic. “I wasn’t even there.”

“Nope, but it was still your fault,” she teased, giving his arm a light smack, her expression animated as if to say that he was the entire reason for her playful antics. “If you weren’t so... you, I wouldn’t be the target of all this.”

Earlier, they had exchanged those sweet, vulnerable ‘I love you’s’. They are words that could be perceived as platonic in some lights, but the way they felt in this moment was undeniably more intimate, like a secret meant just for them. This wasn’t platonic. He knew that now.

“You like me,” Eddie stated matter-of-factly, his big brown eyes locking onto hers, full of sincerity and playful challenge, as if he was just waiting for her confirmation.

For a heartbeat, she simply stared, her heart racing like a wild drum. Then, leaning forward, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her hand cradling his face tenderly, warmth flooding between them in a wave that swept all thoughts away. It was just a fleeting, sweet kiss, yet it conveyed everything they needed to say - an unspoken promise of affection and connection.

“I’m definitely going to catch your cold now,” she teased, pulling back with a playful pout, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“Swapping saliva? Yeah, you're skipping school tomorrow,” he joked, his voice muffled as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck, a warm sensation enveloping them both.

A shiver of delight ran through her at the tickling sensation, a giggle escaping her lips as he playfully nipped at her skin. “Shut up,” she laughed, attempting to push him away, but he just chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. 

Together they snuggled into the couch, enveloped in a blissful cocoon of warmth and comfort that seemed to stretch on forever, like a moment frozen in time. "Can we just stay here and never move?" he murmured, his voice soft and dreamy.

"Yeah, for as long as you want," she replied, knowing in her heart that what she said wasn't exactly true. Chewie would need to go up the garden soon, but the sentiment was there, wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

Eddie squeezed her slightly, enjoying the closeness, as they lay there basking in each other's presence. Eventually, he felt himself begin to nod off once more, and it didn't take much persuading before he surrendered to sleep, cuddled tightly against Y/N, her sweet scent enveloping him in an ethereal warmth that allowed him to drift off quickly.

"Achoo!" He woke up with a start, bursting into laughter at the sound of her sneeze. She glared at him playfully, and it only made him laugh even more. "I hate you," she muttered, burying his face back in her chest, wrapping her arms around him protectively.

"Nah, you love me," he countered, his words muffled by her shirt but dripping with playful confidence.

Rolling her eyes, she replied teasingly, "Whatever helps you sleep at night." His response was still muffled, but she could catch something along the lines of 'You know you love it' with a dopey grin plastered on his face. In that moment, there was no denying it. She couldn't even try, because deep down, every teasing word felt like a soft confession—one that was only meant for them to share in this cosy little world they had built together.

*Click here for my masterlist*

Wanna be added to a taglist? Either comment on this post or send me a message!

Taglist: @emxxblog

[miryum]

Simon Riley has a lot of weird little quirks that I couldn’t fit in any other fic idea

Simon Riley knows how to braid hair and braid it well. French, Dutch, fishtail, anything you wanted. Little tiny braids didn’t deter him either. He would sit on the couch, you standing or sitting between his thick thighs and glare silently in concentration as he braided your hair. He’s also able to pick up any hairstyle real easily. Show him some inspiration on Pinterest and he’ll be able to replicate it almost perfectly. Simon isn’t as good at buns because he can’t quite get how to twist his wrist just right, but give him a strand of hair and he loves to weave it between his fingers. It makes him feel close to you and he is so proud when you wear the braid all throughout the day

Simon Riley folds laundry with military precision and gets a little miffed if you fold the laundry wrong. He literally grumbles and mutters to himself and then re-folds the entire load. He tries to show you how to fold it, but you don’t care as much as him, so he just does it himself. Laundry and the majority of the cleaning goes to Simon because as much as he has qualms about the way you do laundry, don’t even get him started on the way you attempt to clean the house. It’s better for everyone if he just does it

Simon Riley likes to rub his face over your pillow. Especially before or after deployment, he’s like a cat. He circles your pillow in his beefy arms and just presses his cheek to it again and again. It’s like he’s scenting it so that when he goes away, you won’t forget him. You think it’s absolutely adorable and you like to scratch at his hair as he does it

Simon Riley has very strong opinions about Christmas lights. He likes to put them up every year because he grew up Catholic (though he’s now an atheist) and it reminds him of his childhood. He doesn’t really care whether the lights are all white or different colours, but he cannot stand it if they blink. It’s much too annoying and busy and he thinks it’s a cry for attention. It also doesn’t help that sometimes he sees them out of the corner of his eye and the red ones look like the lights on a bomb or the green ones like the call signal on a radio

Simon Riley likes to buy you jewellery. He likes to buy anything and everything that he thinks will look pretty on you. When he finds something with little birds on it, he can’t help but splurge because you’re his Birdie and he loves you

Simon Riley is really good at most any sport, you name it. Rugby, basketball, baseball, American football, the list goes on and on. But put a gun to his head and tell him to score a goal for football and he would take the bullet. There’s really no explanation for it. One could blame it on his utter behemoth size, but he’s able to dribble the basketball or swing at the baseball hurtling towards him, but his feet just trip over themselves as he tries to get the bloody football down the field. He hates that little black and white ball with a burning passion

Simon Riley who is actually pretty involved in the VA. He doesn’t go out and advocate for more funding or anything, but if he sees a homeless veteran, he definitely guides them in the right direction. He goes there once a week just to catch up with everyone. You think it’s very healthy that he’s establishing a community for himself and he really enjoys it – you can see it in his eyes after he comes home Simon Riley who needs to sleep on the couch sometimes after deployment. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold you close, but the mattress is sometimes a bit too soft for him after sleeping on the ground or in a hard cot for weeks on end. You usually end up joining him, just splaying out on his chest. After a night or two, he returns to his place in the bed, holding you close

Simon Riley has the 141 insignia tattooed on his bicep and then the numbers on his chest. He was going to put the numbers over his heart, but, a week before his appointment, he had met you and some little part of him told him to move the tattoo up three inches. He was very glad he decided to move it because a year later he had gotten your initials with a little bird tattooed right over his heart

[elcias-diary]

I've only been in this fandom for like a week, and y'all are so right.

Turbokarun just wants to go home, I've lost count now how many times that's the first thing he says as soon as he transforms. Gloom voice "I wanna go home". He's not some goth vampire Casa Nova making moves on Momo.

Besides Momo just shouts orders at him or goes piggyback riding when he's Turbo Granny-afied. She's totally all business, or as much as Momo can be anyway. Which I respect, cause if they don't have their priorities straight they are definitely gonna die out there!!

But put them together in normal Human interaction scenes and they are so adorably stupid I just want to lock them in a closet. I'm NEVER the person who wants to lock characters in a closet!!! But these two single braincell sharing high school idiots?!!!! Totally want to shove them into more awkward stammering inevitably turned incompetent at their feelings fights until they figure themselves out.

And while I do like the idea of Ken needing to go Turbokarun to psych himself up from an artistic aesthetics stand point, he actually doesn't need to, and better still, regularly just pushes down his own walls to be vulnerable to Momo, no occult powers involved in any way. Which I totally respect cause.

The Beauty and the Beast Done Wrong troupe is a pet peeve of mine, (it's way too thinly veiled abuse culture approval for my liking) so I doubt I'd be enjoying this as much as I am if it was done that way.

i see people having Momo getting all flustered with turbokarun, but I honestly think that's just fandom just really into cool transformations (including myself) though i genuinely believe she would be flustered if it's just regular okarun she didn't fall for turbokarun, she fell for the awkward fellow who his doing his best

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Paradigm Shift 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you get transferred to a new position but it’s hardly a breath of fresh air. (plus!reader)

Characters: Loki, Bucky Barnes, this reader is known as Billie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You sit against the wall as the important people line the edges of the desk. Swiveling, toying with ballpoint pens, tapping on flat tablet screens. You're the only assistant there and it's made more obvious as you're the only one not invited to sit with the VIPs.

The executives go down their agendas. Boasting mostly about their numbers, others using flowery language to hide their less than stellar results, and some posturing rather than sharing anything of value.

Odinson looks less than interested. His eyes stray now and again to the walls. The glass is covered by the drawn blinds which he seems to forget as his mind arounds. He must have found a new distraction. You got out just in time.

He cracks his neck, "very well. Submit your numbers as usual. I'll be in touch with those I need to be."

He stands and struts to the door as the rest of the table look at each other. They're put off by the suddenness of his dimissal. Ellie was still presenting her budget.

"Billie, a word."

It's your turn to be surprised. As the other suits pack up or lounge and swipe at their phone, only two gazes react to the command. Barnes and Laufeyson turn to watch you stand. This is treacherous.

Barnes tilts his head and Laufeyson squints. Like a wolf and a snake, measuring their prey. Well, you will not be devoured so easily.

You cross the office and follow Odinson out. He doesn't look ahead, rather cranes to focus on something, or someone you can't pick out. He stops short and you hit his back.

"Ah, uh, oh," he spins to face you and plants his hand on the wall, his other pushing back his stands of blond hair. "Am I in your way, darling?"

"Hm? No, you told me--"

"Ah, yes, yes," he chuckles raucously, "be assured, I had good reason," he leans in and looms over you, "my brother, tell me your thoughts."

"Erm, well, it's not been very long," you reply.

"You are a clever girl, Bill, tell me."

"He is good with numbers and I think he's well-placed. He and Barnes could be productive but I think Logistics needs--"

He raises his head and searches the bull pen. He huffs and stands straight, turning on his heel.

"You will keep notes for me on this matter," he demands. "Be off, before he is about one of his moods."

He strides away without your reply. You wouldn't have anything nice to say anyway. That was abrupt and odd. As for his last remark, you're not sure which of your bosses he refers too.

You march back toward the conference room with your laptop under your crossed arms. As you approach, Laufeyson steps into your path, no doubt having observed your conversation. Before you can tell him to move, he winces and steps away from the door as Barnes rescinds his thick finger from his jab in his cohort's ribs.

"For someone so skinny, you make a hell of a wall," Barnes snips.

"I am lean, not--" Laufeyson sighs and shakes his head, turning back to you. "What did my brother want?"

"Yes, what did the big bad want?" Barnes stands shoulder to shoulder with Laufeyson, well almost, he is a bit shorter.

"He asked if I needed anything. Like a desk mat or tranquilizer." You retort.

Barnes snickers and Laufeyson glowers deeper.

"Very witty indeed."

"I'd love to do my full set for you two but I believe you have other meetings in your calendar," you advise.

"You sound like my drill sergeant," Barnes scoffs.

You arch a brow and stare back. You wait. You will. You're not there to do their work for them.

"Have you a mind for coffee, James?" Laufeyson asks.

Barnes growls, "I'll drown you in it if you call me that again but yes, I could use a boost."

They keep their eyes on you. There power plays are boring. Do they really get off on grounding down an assistant sentenced to purgatory? Actually, that make you feel a bit better. That's how little they have going on.

"I'll go--"

"We'll come," Barnes insists. "Could stretch my legs? How about you, Loki? Built like a spider, sitting in those chairs--"

"You shouldn't be so concerned with my physique and perhaps start cutting those mid afternoon muffins, eh?" Laufeyson retorts.

Even when they get along, they dont.

"It would be quicker if I went myself," you say. "You have Rogers--"

"He's a friend. He'll understand," Barnes interjects. "Garcons?"

Laufeyson nods, "perfect."

You blink but don't let your agitation through. You simply nod.

"Alright, I'll need to put my computer away--"

"Eh, you," Laufeyson catches a passing intern by the back of his collar. "Take this to logistics."

He takes your laptop before you can react and hands it to the spindly yellow-haired undergrad. You give an apologetic look as he utters out a 'yes, sir' and hurries away.

"You didn't need to do that," you argue.

"I hope my brother didn't give you the impression that I take orders from you, darling. It is rather the other way around." Laufeyson sniffs.

"He only takes orders in the bedroom," Barnes chuckles.

"That's hardly appropriate," Laufeyson huffs.

"Loosen up. Skip the coffee and take a shot," Barnes raps his knuckles on Laufeyson's sleeve.

They turn and grumble at each other. You don't move until they reach the elevator. You're not stupid. They have to show their dominance. Too bad you don't care who's in charge, you just want to get the job done.

[fayes-fics]

The Wonderful Unexpected: Chapter 1

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU (future chapters)

Chapter Summary: it’s Christmas, but it’s beginning to look a lot like a shitshow…

artwork by me

Warnings: None really... swearing and non-graphic character attack and injury.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: Welcome to Chapter 1 of my next multi-chapter! A modern rom-com based on While You Were Sleeping. This is really just getting the wheels in motion, where she encounters Anthony. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis. Thank you to @colettebronte for beta reading. Please enjoy! <3

The first time you see him, your heart almost stops.

It is a Monday morning, your first shift in your new job at a coffee shop on a dreary day in late October, when he sweeps in, a blur of athletic movement in a sharply tailored suit. 

Your boss, the store manager, Gen, starts to make his drink, double espresso, without him even having to say a word. And seemingly, just like that, he is gone again, you standing there, stupefied, awkwardly clutching the milk-frothing pitcher.

And thus, it begins. 

Every weekday between 8:01 and 8:15, Prince Charming glides in, grabs his cup and is gone—a beautiful mirage with amazing cheekbones and a watch that costs more than your annual rent. It's like your world goes into slow motion, and, to steal a phrase from your dearly departed Dad’s favourite song, birds suddenly appear every time he is near. 

Anyway, one random, soggy Thursday, the fates intervene, and it's your turn to serve him. As soon as you see him striding purposely towards the shop, you start his drink, butterflies in your stomach. The smile he bestows upon you is dazzling… even if his attention is slightly diverted by the call he is on. 

Sparks shoot up your arm and into your chest as your fingers brush his briefly as you hand over the small cup.

Surely, this is meant to be? 

He is perfect. Your husband (he just doesn't realise it yet).

All you need is a way to introduce yourself…

—

It's the end of your shift three days before Christmas when Gen sidles up to you, an odd expression on her face.

“I’d like to recommend you for Employee of the Month.” 

“Didn't know there was one,” you shrug, having no idea what that could mean. You suspect not a great deal. Barista is no one’s chosen career. This is very much what you hope is a pit stop on your way to better things. A way to pay the rent until you get your big break. Or get to go travelling.

“Oh yes, well, it's been a few weeks now, and really, you’re my best employee. You are never late, always reliable, never get an order wrong, and are friendly to all the customers…” She trails off, looking very sheepish. “And if you are willing to work Christmas Day… ”

“Christmas Day!? Why are we even open on Christmas Day anyway? It’ll be dead, even around here,” you frown, putting down the cloth you were wiping the counter with.

“Owner policy,” she shrugs. “It's only for four hours in the morning - 7 til 11. If you do, it’s quadruple pay...” she lilts, attempting to make it sound appealing.

You squirm uncomfortably, not wanting to let her down but also really not wanting to work on that day. You were looking forward to a duvet and Netflix day with the second most handsome creature in the world (and definitely the most loyal), Chairman Meow.

“Look,” Gen petitions softly. “Prue still has bronchitis. Edie can't switch because she's got some big trip to see her cousins, and l promised my kiddos that I'd be there for them this year… l know it isn't fair, and I can't force you to do it... but you mentioned you are single and your parents are gone. You're the only one…” she trails off, looking awkward.

“...Without family…” you supply glumly, already knowing you will capitulate. At least quadruple pay will come in handy.

—

You are struggling to haul your Aunt Hilda’s Christmas ‘gift’ - a frighteningly enormous box you can tell is choked full of ugly breakables - up the stairs after a long shift when he materialises as he always seems to, just when it is most inconvenient.

Not your prince. No. Sadly not.

Albion “Alby” Finch. 

Yep, quite the name. Not one anyone could live up to. But perhaps particularly not him. The well-meaning owner of the building who lives in the ground floor flat. Still adjusting to his status as a landlord since his father passed last year, he is boundlessly friendly in that untrained puppy way. Always wanting to help but always somehow ending up more of a hindrance than anything. 

“Oh y/n, that looks tricky; allow me!”

He pushes his glasses up his nose with a pointer finger, then immediately lunges forward and grabs the other side of the heavy box without asking first.

“No, wait….!” 

But it's too late.

You had the box precariously balanced, holding it strategically over the poorly taped seams. But his sudden interference has disturbed the contents. You watch as he realises he was wholly unprepared for its weight; his face fleetingly takes on a look of respect that you were handling such a burden.

Time slows like molasses as it slips from his grip, a horrible crunching sound as it hits the step, losing much of its structural integrity in the impact. Then, a calamitous symphony as it tumbles almost poetically down the whole flight, picking up speed as it goes. Yet again, the world is in slo-mo, but not in a good way this time, watching its barrelling path with increasing dread. Both of you wince as the inevitable happens: the spindly legs of the Alby’s heirloom table in the hallway snapping under the duress of poorly packaged terminal velocity porcelain. 

“I'm so, so sorry!” he starts, flustering like a bird. “It’s all my fault; I’ll pay for it,” he assures.

“Alby…” you sigh, head slumping back in resignation, staring at the ceiling. You can't be too mad; he has sort of done you a favour, saving you the inevitable trip to the charity shop.

“What can I do to make amends?” He presses on. “May I take you to dinner?”

You are almost shocked that he has finally summoned the courage to ask you out after two years. When you tilt your chin back down, you see the panic rising on his face as he belatedly realises what he did.

“You are my landlord. Probably not a good idea,” you return diplomatically, trying to let him down easily. He is a nice man, and his admiration for cheese is to be respected, but you know you could never see him as anything but a sweet, slightly clueless friend.

“Right-e-o,” he nods, cheeks reddened. “Of course. So rude. Please forgive me.”

You wave a dismissive hand, staring down at the pile of destruction below, dreading the thought of cleaning up.

“I’ll deal with all that up,” Alby gestures, tracking your line of sight.

And for once, rather than help as you inevitably always do, you agree, your feet throbbing after a long day where it seemed every teenager in zone 1 needed a matcha oat latte.

So, as you tumble into your flat, you sigh in relief, flinging off your shoes and pouring a glass of water for yourself and a saucer of cat milk. You may not have your Prince Charming (yet…?), but you have Chairman Meow, who always makes a genuinely excellent fluffy pillow for your favourite brainless binge-watch. 

—

It’s as if there is lead in your socks as you shuffle down the pavement and roll up the shutters. 

Christmas Day. 6:54am.

Still an hour until sunrise, it's misty and rainy, but then that's typical London, really.

What isn't typical London is the deserted streets. Hardly a soul to be seen, only the very occasional car. Most people are tucked up in bed or, if they are parents, blearily watching their kids tear wrapping paper asunder in pursuit of loud plastic.

When an hour has already passed without a single customer, you are entering a new level of boredom. Inventing new lyrics for the Christmas music playing, balancing stirring sticks into a pagoda-like structure of impressive resilience (it can hold a cup!), cursing the owner who even thought it was a good idea to be open today. It's all a recipe for a sort of irksome ennui.

So when you hear a commotion outside, you almost fall off the stool you have been idly twirling on. Springing from your perch, you run to the glass window, keen for any distraction.

But the sight that greets you has your heart in your throat.

There, in the street, surrounded by a gang of kids in oversized hoodies, is your man. Prince Charming. They are tussling with him, and you realise they are likely trying to mug him of his expensive watch. 

You observe helplessly, too scared to confront them, worried that doing so might exacerbate the situation. As you fumble in your apron pocket for your phone, the kids disperse, and to your horror, you see your man lying in the road, worryingly still. 

Before you are even conscious of it, instead of dialling 999, you are flinging open the shop door and sprinting towards him. 

“Sir! Sir!” 

Skidding to a halt and hovering over him, you can see an ugly bruise forming on his left temple already. They must have knocked him out.

“Sir! Please wake up!!”

But there is no response. 

You fall to your knees next to him, tapping his cheek lightly with the back of your hand, a sense of dread filling you with every passing millisecond.

Cmon universe! You can't do this! Why can't you take out the ugly ones?! Kidding... Sort of. 

As your completely inappropriate internal monologue rages, you grab his shoulders and shake him gently, needing him to get up. Get out of the road, at least.

“Sir! Please! You are lying in the road! Please get up!”

You know it's Christmas Day, so traffic is thankfully light. However, if a bus comes around this blind corner, it will hit you both before it sees you.

Again, nothing from him.

You bend down to place your ear next to his nose and mouth, heart pounding, to see if you can hear breathing, at least. 

“Fuck, you smell so good!”

It's out of your mouth before you can censor it, not that anyone is within earshot, this unconscious beauty aside. Your nostrils are filled with expensive, no doubt custom-blended aftershave, which literally makes your mouth water. You have to tamp the sudden urge to bury your face into his neck and inhale deeply.

But then you hear the hiss of air brakes and know a large vehicle is approaching—it could be a bus, could be a lorry. Either way, you are not exactly going to stay here to find out.

Without knowing quite what possesses you, you limpet yourself around his prone body and literally log-roll him out of the road. A blur of frantic tumbling movement that only ceases when your knees encounter the rough stipples of the pedestrian crossing section of the pavement. Shocking even yourself with the strength you are able to muster.

It's incredible what reserves of power you can summon when Prince Charming’s life is on the line, apparently.

As you lay straddled awkwardly on top of him, a street-sweeping lorry barrels around the corner, right over where he was lying. Sweeping up what you suspect was his mobile phone in the process before you could even grab it for him.

Heart racing at the closeness of the call, you collapse on top of him, breathing hard. Trying desperately to ignore the stirring of your traitorous libido at the sensation of muscular thighs clenched between your own. 

His eyes flutter open, and you murmur a breathless “hi,” almost losing yourself in their depthless, warm beauty. That is before they roll backwards, and his head slumps to the left.

Just great.

As Michael Buble might sing at this particular moment…  ♫ It's beginning to look a lot like a shitshow. ♫

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23

[yey56]

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER pt2.

That day wasn't something you could easily forget. It started as any other day, after the moment you had with the doctor, he received a call from the office of Elliot Ludwig, claiming there was an important matter to discuss. He left not without savoring once more your lips.

That day, while you were conversing and trying to help process the changes to a little girl now turned into a toy, one of the other phycologist, Martha Hendswort, one of the few friends you had there; told you that Elliot was expecting you in his office.

You didn't exactly despised Elliot, unlike Harley who took the man for a rotten idealist, you though of him a wise man who was far to kind for his own good. Someone who learned to put the foot down when it was already to late...

Once you arrived there, the man awaited for you seated in his chair, looking at a photograph on top of his desk, his mind wandering somewhere you couldn't see.

Finally noticing your presence, he gave you an apologetic smile. Nothing good could come from that look that was silently apologising for something he hadn't even said yet.

You greeted him as usual, with a light hearted manner. Jokingly sucking up with him-you look good Eliot! New glasses?- you said while he spared you a little smile.

He finally took a more serious stance and started the conversation- (Y/N), as I've said to Harley before, both of you together have reached great progress with your projects...-he paused looking at you trying to find a way to deliver the blow delicately- You both have achieved great things and the company is grateful for that... But, I cannot longer ignore your lack of boundaries regarding the... Subjects of your experiments.- he looked at you again.

So... This is about me and Harleys methods, I'm sure we can get to some kind of middle groun- Ludwig suddenly interrupted you- No, I don't mean that. I've talk about this with him as well. I don't think you should be directing the experiments no longer. This experiments should not be made in name of progress but in name of humanity, and I think that's something you have forgotten- he finally finished.

You felt a shiver go down your spine- What?- you whispered forrowign your brows- do you have any idea how much we- How much I have invested in this project-in -in those children?!- you tone was still moderately calm, but getting more threatening.

Harley lacks the humanity needed for this project-his tone still calm, trying to soothe your anger- unlike him, you do have that trait but you have chosen to ignore it in favour of your own curiosity, your own agenda.-he expressed severely- you are a brilliant psychologist, the best one I have in here and working with you has been enlightening from all points of view but I cannot keep ignoring your recklessness...-he finalised.

You looked at him, without talking, still half processing what he just told you- so you're firing me? After all the time I've invested here?- you said, resentment was starting to get more noticing in your voice.

No! Of course not, neither you or Sawyer are fired, just... Relocated.- he explained- I've assigned sawyer to Dr whites lab and you... Well I think it would be great if you could work in the innovation department, under Pierre's direction...-your eyes didn't leave his- You're asking me to quit the career I've been building for the past 11 years to work under that lousy coward?- you asked in reference to the nervous nature Pierre seemed to have since you once accidentally sacred him while being in the corner of a dark place.

You are great at innovation, I know you talk frequently with the design department and your adaptable nature will be very helpful there.- Ludwig, observing that you still weren't really on board with this said- look, I don't expect you to understand right now but at least give it a try. I've never known you for saying no to a challenge. I will ask Pierre not to be so restrictive with you.- his attempt to cheer you up where useless

You only raised from the chair and proceeded to get out of his office. You knew you weren't going to quit because that would mean you turning into one of them.

You kept walking through seemingly infinite corridors, tightening your fists to the point your knuckles were turning white.

You arrived to your office in the lower levels and started to take out certain objects you knew you would need with you for your relocation. You had on top of your desk the file of 1322-Doey and in one of your open drawers, a photo with you in the kindergarten area with the kids that now composed the toy.

With the box with your belongings in hand you started walking towards Harleys office, at lest to notify him about your new place of work. Before you could get to the next corridor, three voices stopped you. You couldn't hear much since they where inside one of the labs of that area but you could make out Leith's voice, saying something about getting rid of someone.

You are well aware of what "taking care" of someone meant here. You had suggested it a couple of times with unloyal stuff but something about the timing of the conversation seemed off.

Before you could get aways from that area again, you felt something hitting your head and the only thing that could be heard in that hall was the crash of your belonging against the floor.

————————————————————————

[Tape recording: The doctor]

[Dr white]: Oh, it looks like he's waking up

{The doctor}: where am I, what... Is this?... Oh no they didn't, those backstabbing traitors

[Dr white]: Dr Sawyer? can you hear me?

{The doctor}: White?! White is that you?! Who else is there with you?

{The doctor}: You enjoying watching me writhe like on of them- *Groan in pain*-my head feels like it's splitting in two *groan*- This is wrong, you must have done something wrong.

[Dr white]: Some disorientation is to be expected it'll-

{The doctor}: Who gave you the order? You spineless cowards, after all I've done for this project, for this company-

(Lith Pierre): I gave the order, Sawyer

{The doctor}: Leith Pierre... of course it'd be you, YOU have no idea what kind of mistake you've just made.

(Leith Pierre): Really? From where I'm sitting, you're the one who keeps making mistakes that need fixing. You and (Y/N) were warned.

(Leith Pierre): We gave you both so many opportunities to clean up your messes, but you just couldn't do it could you?

{The doctor}:What, do you think YOU can do better?? Nobody else can do what I do. You need my knowledge, my intellect!! You need (Y/N) and they will not collaborate!!

(Leith Pierre): Why do you think you're sitting in there right now, and not in Boxy's stomach? Let me tell you how this is gonna go, Sawyer. From now on you're here to give the lab boys answer when they need them and carry out procedures when and how we tell you to. That's it

(Leith Pierre): You'll be an open book to us whenever we want. So fight or have in, or whatever because either way we own the infrastructure you're wired into. Here's your first task, find us Dr (Y/N) (Y/L/N) so they can join you.

{The doctor}: You'll die for this Leith. When I get my hands on you you're a dead man!!!

(Leith Pierre): This temper is a bad look on you Harley!

[Tape Ended: The doctor.]

————————————————————————

[Tape recording: the escape]

(Y/N): What?- Where?-

Dr 1: are they- no I can't be- they're waking up *mumbling*

Dr 2: it cannot be!- increment the dosis!

(Y/N): what... Are you-? What do you think you are-? *Groans*

Dr 1: don't move- restrict them!!

(commotion sounds)

Dr 1: wait! Dont!- (static)

(Crashing sounds)

(Screams)

(Y/N):*groans* so... This is what you were trying to do... To me?

Dr 2:*coughing* Lab 19... Dr/Dra (Y/L/N) is *coughing* awak-

(Gunshot)

Leith :* through the phone* Dr? Dr?!-

(Static)

[Tape recording: the escape]

————————————————————————

You felt cold with the operation robe you had on, a harsh contrast with the warm blood that was scattered over your upper torso after stabbing one of the doctors with a scalpel.

Your ears ringed. After quickly taking the gun off the scientist body you aimed at the other one who was calling who you supposed was Pierre.

You shot him before he could end his message. You took the documents they had half completed on the desk: Experiment 1812- (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

You broke the papers with disdain. You though of Harley, were they doing the same to him? I wouldn't be so unusual to think that Pierre might have done it.

You then remembered that Leith must have sent someone to neutralise you, so hurrying you went out of the operation room, gun in hand to the control room. Sawyer Leith and Ludwig were the only ones with a key but Harley had made you s copy without the other two knowing. Of course, that copy was confiscated from you when you were left unconscious.

Once you got to the control room, you started noticing the cold on your bare feet, the blood dripping from your clothes and the rushed footsteps that seemed to be getting closer each second.

You punched the door in the handle repeatedly in desperation to get in. And just before you could see Leith rushing to you at the end of the corridor, the door automatically opened on its own.

It immediately closed right after you and the sound of the mechanical lock echoed in the room, all of this followed by Pierre's hits on the door.

You ignored it, concentrating on the several cameras that formed the room. Complete access to he enclosures of the experiments.

1160-Boxy boo, 1163- Pianosaurus, 1166- Yarnaby, 1170- Huggy Wuggy, 1188-Catnap, 1222- Mommy long legs... To mention some of them.

In desperation, Pierre started shouting, already imagining what you would do in your anger.

(Y/N)!! Stop this. You are not thinking straight! They will kill you, all of us!!!- he said completely desperate, banging the door even harder.

You were always aware that why's you did was not good, neither moral, neither human.

You understood their pain, specially their anger, you would be angry to in their place. Now you needed that anger, you needed that anger against, Pierre and all of Playtime Co.

Even if you would be affected in the process, right now you don't care what might happen to you, you only care of what will happen to Pierre.

You pressed the bottom with no hesitation, the red lights illuminating the whole compound. You could hear Leith's shouts of desperation- WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!- WHAT HAVE YOU D- his voice sounded like murmurs, likely because of the effect of the anesthesia inside you.

Actions have consequences Leith, sooner or later both you and I were going to face them, I just accelerated the process.- you said with a mocking tone that brushed insanity-Im just helping you learn how to take responsibility for your actions.-you finished with a harsh tone in your voice.

While this was happening, the monitors in your back started to flash images of a single eye surrounded by static.

————————————————————————

Harley had observed through the cameras that now were part of his system how you escaped the operation room leaving two corpses behind. The moment Leith left the room his monitor was in to go and stop you he started taking over the system.

He wanted to make you know what had happened to him, that he hadn't manage to escape and was now trapped there.

He opened the door to you once he catches on what you were trying to do and he tried to comunicate with you through the monitors in the room. You seem so angry and so full of adrenaline that you didn't notice how he couldn't even voice a though thought the speakers.

Once Leith had escaped the corridor, hoping to save himself he saw you sprinting out of the room to a direction that was to familiar for him. The enclosure of 1322 or like you liked to call them: Kevin, Jack and Mathew.

He knew how much you insisted in refering the experiments as there original names. You used to say that it helped them to stablish trust with you and he still insisted in naming them after their assigned numbers.

You arrived at the enclosure of the doe mass, while he tried to figure out how to control more of the systems so he could reach you.

Get out, come on- you said to Doey who looked at you as if you were the sunlight.- but- but what's happening, why is there so much noise?- he asked afraid- I freed them, all of them, come on, here is no longer safe- you said rushing him and sparring him the details of your actions.

But the doctor!- the bad people they are going to hurt us- to starve us- he started having a meltdown- I don't know where Harley is but with the chaos that has ensued out there we can still hide somewhere they won't find us. Quick!- you were trying to rush the toy to the exit. You remembered that Harley mentioned you that there were building more floors deeper and deeper but they were still very much isolated from the rest of the factories system.

You guided the toy through the stairs and the chaos and while you were waiting for him to open a door from the other side you took the opportunity to search in on of the st computers near by the information about Harley. You tried cameras, reports and all kind of stuff but you couldn't find nothing recent.

Harley didn't have access to the computer you were using. Growing more and more desperate he could feel himself getting overloaded until one of the nearby cable started igniting.

Doey quickly wrapped you around him and started running without a clear direction while the whole placed burned, dragging you both deep enough to not be found for a while.

————————————————————————

Harley was beyond furious, he was frustrated, defeated. Backstabbed by his coworkers and confined into a screen.

When the prototype found him, he didn't face him with fear, he was well aware that he was useful for him and only for that, the prototype would keep him alive. But he also knew that it was a means to an end. The prototype needed the doctor for his abilities and intellect but the doctor knew that for the prototypes plan to actually work they needed you.

You had made sure to establish a relationship of trust and even some kind of bond between you and the toys. With some of them more genuine than the other. He never understood that, and for a long time he mistook it for simple compassion but the explanation you gave him actually made sense.

Why do you insist on bonding with those... Creatures, hmmm?- he asked you with his hand on the bridge of his nose and his glasses in the table.- are you aware what you are doing to them?

You laughed silently while eating a piece of sandwich.- do you realise that those experiments are incubators of anger and resentment right? They are essentially human, humans reaped from their bodies.-you took a bite- that plus the abuse they endure from the guards only births anger, anger that is eventually going to explode in our faces.- he looked at you curiously.

You continued after he nodded, agreeing with you- By letting them know I empathise with them, which I do by the way, I'm basically letting them know I'm not much of an enemy but more of a shoulder to cry on. You understand?- your reasoning was calculated and based on assuming the worst but after all, you were right.

The experiments who experimented intelligence were not happy with the stuff at Playtime co and that was no secret. He finally understood what was your strategy. A point of view he had never seen before but one that made sense nonetheless.

That how Harley understood that in order to control the whole place and assure the prototypes plan they needed you. That way he could have a valid excuse to give to the prototype for wanting to reach you and have you with him. That way you weren't perceived as his weakness and you could stay alive out of usefulness.

But he was going to find you, one way or another, sooner or later. He wasn't know for being a patient man but he could wait. He just needed time and nothing more. Just time.

————————————————————————

Doey finally put you down on the floor and you both stopped, catching a moment to breath.

You were in some sort of underground sewer, you didn't know were it would take you but as long as you were not in the upper levels with the rest of the free toys, you were safe for now.

Hey kid, how are you going?- you asked Doey who was starring at the ceiling, hearing the vague screams that could miraculously reach the underground.

Those screams are of...- he started, not calm enough to finish- (Y/N)... What have you done?.- you leaned against a wall, still dizzy from the remaining anesthesia in your body- what?- you asked, not expecting this reaction- those screams!! They are from people, the toys are eating them!! Why did you do this.

You paused a moment, not knowing what to respond- I got fed up- you weren't exactly lying on that answer- I'm making it up for my actions, I was an accomplice in captivating you, now I'm freeing you.- you took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind- look, I understand that you are upse-

NO, YOU DON'T!!!- he screamed- you try but you don't- he started sobbing- you don't hear them, you get to have silence you don't hear the voices, the kind voices that always lie!! Your kind voice won't deceive me- he stared at you, furious.

You got serious, taking a stance and looking him dead in the eye you told him- I'm not a kid voice doey, I'm an honest voice and I made that very clear since the first moment I met you three.- he stayed silent after your statement, pouting, like a child would take after being scolded by their parent.- I will tell you the honest truth, if you can handle it. - you looked at him and proceeded- I don't think it's a good idea that we stick together, Kevin, your obviously angry at me and I won't force you to change that. I'll let you cool it down. Search for me when you are ready.- and with that you turned and leaved, not willing to defy a 400 kg of mass

Doey extended an arm in your way trying to reach you before you would go down another path than him. You were the most similar thing he had to a parent, to a friend down there and he felt lost without your help and guidance.

The toy stayed there, sulking and trying to keep himself at bay.

You wandered through the sewers until you found a way out to a set of underground halls with a few computers to settle in. You stayed there, thinking about what to do next and planing on where could Harley be, if he even was still alive after what you did.

And Harley, well... He was determined to obtain absolute control over the whole facility, upper and lower levels. Searching to find certain germ that had crawled inside of his system, and former heart.

Searching for the direct culprit of the hour of joy...

-Unedited fanfic-

[jayetheartist]

We were lucky nothing happened, and the bigger problem is that NOTHING HAPPENED. There was no point besides putting two sets of protesters in the same place so they could scream at each other and wave signs. No action was taken, there was no agenda, there was no purpose, nobody led, nobody benefited, no positive things happened at all. We showed up, we went home, it was of zero consequence.

That’s the experience part, too. That’s why it’s a big deal that this is leaderless and disorganized. Okay, so everyone shows up at state capitals. And then…..? Then what? What’s the agenda? What’s the next step? Protests do nothing if they have no plan beyond it. What’s the demand? What’s the message?

I know, in retrospect, that the protest I was talking about was one of many that were circulated on Facebook to capitalize on the anger and momentum to stir division and violence. That’s a thing we now know happened. And I know that because there was no leader, no organizer, no agenda, no plan. The longer you are involved in activism, the more you learn to avoid stuff that has no leader, no organizer, no agenda, and no plan. Maybe it’s not a scam, maybe it’s just a bad idea.

Don’t avoid protesting, but be smart about it. This whole idea - planned too fast, no clear purpose, etc - is a bad idea. People will go because they feel the need to do something, anything, to make their voices heard.

Best case scenario here is that some people show up in all these cities, wave signs and get a little attention, maybe someone there steps up to be a temporary local leader for the day, and then nothing else happens and maybe a few of those people find their way to actual productive activist groups down the road.

Worst case scenario here is people show up and violence does break out and there’s no medics, no support, no good advice given, and since there is no real plan and no leader, it all happens for no reason to people who didn’t know that it isn’t supposed to work like that. Nobody should be excited for people to put themselves in danger with no plan or purpose. That’s not revolutionary.

Even “decentralized” action has plans and leaders. You don’t protect people by refusing to have systems in place. If you want grassroots, it starts from the bottom. That would be like if 50 groups in 50 states were all planning action, so they all agreed to do it at the same time. If someone has an idea and tells people all over the country to do something but takes no responsibility for any of it, that’s just shitty.

I've generally been treating this blog as a refuge from...all the things. But since posts about these "protests" have been going around, I wanted to share these words of caution in the interest of helping everyone stay safe. There is definitely work to be done, but we need to be smart about it. No charging into territory blind.

Stay safe. ❤️

[babyblankyerror]

On the Stanley hit man thing(please note 1: prices are at least semi accurate to the 70s and 2: I have no idea how hitmen work and there’s only so many google searches I’m willing to have in my history. Also the name of The Guy is a reference to an actual person who was related to an actual big US government fuck up):

Rubbing soap and water into well-worn gloves in some gas station bathroom in the middle of the night was, at this point, a new normal for Stanley. There were better ways to do this, he knew that, but patience and a horrifying amount of soap did the job just fine. Better than leaving the gloves on the ground where someone might stumble across them and realise there are small dried splatters on them.

The best way to get blood out of fabric was to wash it out quickly. Flood it with water, then scrub soap into it and try to wear through it with paper towel after paper towel until the water runs clear. It was a similar method to removing paint from a roller or shirt. That meant that Stan could just pretend he’d messed up on some project, for an art class or something. Or was messing around with his brother's paints. There was only so well that could work after years of the same routine, but it still worked so there was no reason to change it.

As he ran the gloves under the faucet again, the water flowed only carrying suds. No more damning pinkish hue. Now he just had to dry them, and that could be done back in the Stanley-Mobile.

First he’d have to leave the gas station. Then call the number given to him last week when he got the job and tell them it was done. He’d learn where to meet them to get the back half of his payment, then he could see how to split it. Enough to keep going went to him, a little bit went towards saving in case of an emergency, and the rest went to his dork of a brother.

The first step, out of all of them, was always the hardest. There are only so many ways you can hide sopping wet gloves, especially when it’s warm enough out that you can’t just wear a bulky jacket with inner pockets.

He folded them in half, longways, and put one in each of his pant pockets. It was as inconspicuous as he could get.

Stan hurried to the door of the bathroom, before opening it at a much more reasonable speed and meandered out of the gas station store. He took special care to walk in plain view on his way out. As much as he’d love to skirt around the edge of the store to keep out of view, that would only look suspicious and risk drawing attention.

As the store door closed behind him he let his shoulders drop slightly and fished his gloves out of his pocket as well as his keys. His car was parked right outside so there was no need to separate the actions.

Unlocking the door he sat down in the driver’s seat. He already had a small towel on the passenger side of the bench seats. He dropped the gloves on the towel before swinging his door shut, sticking his key in the ignition, and starting the engine. There was a pay phone a few blocks down, but having just left the store he should still move his car.

It was funny how despite about… three years, he wants to say, he still was always on edge after a job. It made sense, considering that the jobs he took consisted of killing people, but it was still a lot of time to adjust to it. At least the pay was good, and he had ways to get through the actual murder part.

Just line up the shot, and count to three. If you make it to three you might chicken out and fail, or if you aren’t sure of aim you might panic since they keep breathing after the shot. Not to mention you leave a distinctive trace of who’s done it with the bullet. But guns left less room for regret and letting them live than knives or fists. It helped that he pulled the trigger on two, before his mind could catch up to what he was doing. By the time he was weighing whether or not he should do it, he was already checking to see if any blood was on him. Usually just his hands if he got close, but on occasion a drop or two would land elsewhere on him.

Shoes he filed the treads off left no recognizable prints as he would walk away.

The drive to the pay phone was silent beyond the low rattling of the engine. Shifting gears and parking the car was so automatic that if he was asked if he’d done it or not he genuinely wouldn’t know the answer. He took a few coins out of the cup holder and a note from where it was tucked into his front visor.

The air had the everpresent heat of summer, only cut through by a slight wind. He vaguely wondered if it was similar weather where Ford was. Sure Indiana was northeast of Arkansas, but it couldn’t account for that great of a change in weather. Especially since there would be enough plants to keep the heat in at night as opposed to if Ford was in the desert out West. Ford should have been in the desert out West, or at least just near it. He’d driven through the west coast once, it went from desert to a small bit of forest by the coast.

He slotted a coin into the phone and punched in the numbers written on the little sheet of paper. It rang for a few moments before someone answered with a tired ‘hello’. Made sense, it was probably around midnight.

“Is this S Higgins?” Stanley asked, staring up at the sky. The town was big enough that the lights faded some of the stars out. Probably for the best, Ford always liked the stars and it was best to not think about Ford when on the call with a client. His voice got too soft, and when your voice gets soft suddenly everything is up for negotiation.

“It is. I take it, you've done it?” The voice on the other end of the line replies. Always with euphemisms and never saying what they asked for. They wanted someone dead and now they’re dead, and he’s the only one that has to face it.

“Yup. You can check; Kelly on York street- dead center of Warren.” Stan says. He knows they won’t check, but it’s always best to give the information so there’s never any doubt he’s done it. It’ll be in the headlines anyways, Warren doesn’t seem like a place where a double homicide goes unreported on. A lovey dovey couple who just so happened to know a few details problematic to an ongoing political career.

“Is Ray’s in Monticello in three days good for you?” Came from the phone, crackly and disconnected. Three days, enough time for news and an investigation to start. Also enough time to plan out where to go next. There were certain people who talked, and it was through that grapevine his name got spread around. Or more accurately his license plate and car’s description did, it was not exactly inconspicuous, and with that ways to contact him. He just had to go wherever people who knew people that might want someone dead were. So pretty much anywhere, but he’d been thinking about seeing New Orleans so maybe he’d head there. And if nothing came up he was certain to find something in Mobile.

“Around lunch?” He asked. The least suspicious time of day. You could openly talk about his work at lunch and it would be taken as a joke. Because it’s the middle of the day and no actual plots could ever take place in the middle of the day.

“See you then.” The words came out and were quickly followed by a clack and silence. He set the phone up and made his way back to the Stanley-Mobile.

Monticello was less than twenty miles away. He could get there and get a motel room that night. But Warren was a small town and the newcomer disappearing the night of two murders would put the cops on his tail, so he swung around and headed back towards the motel he’d gotten a room at here.

The fact he didn’t immediately collapse meant he must have been running on adrenaline, and so rather than fight it for sleep he got his things packed. He’d sleep in and leave at a reasonable time in the morning before heading to Monticello. That seemed ideal.

———

Over the next couple days the only notable occurrences were the headlines about what he’d done, and him visiting the Allen House. From murder to the suicide house tourist trap. Way to go him!

Stanley had to admit though, while the ‘hauntedness’ of the Allen House left something to be desired he enjoyed the fun romp. He could do it better if he wanted to, but that would mean getting a house which would probably require legal documents that were left back in the apartment on top of a pawn shop in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Or he could do it illegally, which was much more likely, but at this point too much of a hassle when his current gig worked just fine.

Noon was approaching though so he turned on the Stanley-Mobile and headed towards Ray’s.

The diner was somewhat cosy despite having a metal back wall that looked like that of a storage container. Probably the warm lighting, benches, and soft music playing from a radio on the counter. He grabbed a table by a window, staring out of it to wait.

After a few dozen minutes of nothing he decided to go ahead and order some fries and a burger, making sure it wasn’t enough he could reasonably eat. He got a to-go bag after picking at them for what he deemed a good amount of time.

It was maybe another half hour or a bit longer when he watched a slightly too-clean Pacer roll up. A man who looked like he’d just been told what ‘casual’ meant last night stepped out and headed towards the diner. That was, without a doubt, Higgins then.

When he walked in the door Stanley waved him over, calling his name with a slight cheer as the man came over.

“You did… the job.” Higgins muttered, pulling a chair opposite Stanley’s spot on a padded bench and shuffling to sit down.

“I did. It’s on the news if you need to check.” Stanley said, leaning back slightly.

“I… I already saw the news. I have the money.” Higgins said, pausing to hum and haw before continuing, “Three thousand, right? Here, in cash.” Higgins said, reaching into a pocket on the inside of his clearly not weather appropriate jacket. And right. Stanley really should remember to get checks and not cash. Checks were easy to hide, especially since he went about being a contract killer in the dumbest way. Instead of just getting in with one group and staying there with a consistent pay and a good public facing business set up for him, he traveled around and essentially worked commission. Granted he got his start making enemies, so maybe staying in one place wasn’t the best. Especially when he could then work for just about anyone he deemed not an immediate risk, instead of just one organization. No matter what though, he should get better about checks instead of cash. Too late now though. Stanley held his palm out and felt a small stack of hundred dollar bills hit his hand, with no small amount of worry. He clutched the bills and tilted his palm down, hiding them from any quick glances.

Stanley dropped the bills into the to go bag as he reached in, and pulled out a small container with the fries.

“I have extra if you want.” He said, opening the lid and turning them towards Higgins. The man seemed to writhe in his chair, face morphing into a performance of guilt. He was certainly new to this. Higgins got up with a rushed apology and excuse of having to get back home. Stanley watched him go and placed the fries back in the bag. Well, to the bank then. He should deposit the cash slowly, he knows this, but he’s fairly certain that the new semester is starting m at Backupsmore which means Ford will need to be spending his money on textbooks. Which means Stanley is going to be extra sure to pay for his tuition.

Stanley’s pretty sure he caught an article about Ford and some other guy proving something or other about the universe, and a few more campus newspapers mentioning the two of them spending time together. So his brother finally made a friend! He’d drive up and hug the nerd out of pride if he weren’t certain Ford wouldn’t be too willing to speak to him. He did figure though, that he had enough saved for an emergency that what he’d usually cut out of his pay for à ‘just in case’ could go to Ford’s friend instead. A brief line of phone books and library visits, as well as word of mouth, made it clear that the guy was also the first of his family to go to college. And was riding on a couple scholarships in order to just cover tuition, but probably still had to take out a loan or two. He wasn’t going to risk Ford’s friend having to drop out and leave him alone due to finances.

The face of the bank teller was of mild confusion when he went to deposit five hundred dollars. Just because he wasn’t waiting to deposit the money didn’t mean he was an idiot. He was just going to spend the day hopping between a few banks to do it in chunks. Stil suspicious on paper but he has a current guise of being ‘an artist’ so sudden large deposits because he ‘sold a painting’ at least didn’t get too many questions.

At the end of it all he ended up sending one thousand five hundred to Ford’s annual tuition, so he should be set for a while longer. Though the idiot of a genius was taking twelve different full courses and each individual course has its own lesser tuition so it wasn’t the full semester it would have been if his brother knew how to stop. Frankly that had been the main reason he’d stepped in, Ford probably could have managed the tuition for one or even two or three courses on his own but somewhere in his mind he’d decided that taking twelve was a good idea. Stanley’s sure Ford could have figured it out, but that’s his brother and he didn’t want Ford to have to figure it out.

He sent seven hundred to Ford's friends’ tuition after some double checking names, and so the apparent Fiddleford McGucket had one less thing to worry about.

That meant he had eight thousand remaining, he wouldn’t have to take another job for a while. A long while. Maybe he just goes to New Orleans as a vacation.

~~~~~~

Ford and Fiddleford were staring at the Backupsmore administrator. They’d gone to check up on what they had to pay for tuition, only to find out that not only had Ford’s gotten a significant amount paid(which was becoming an odd yet consistent occurrence) but Fiddleford’s as well.

The money had been wired in, which meant whoever sent it had a known bank account, but had apparently mandated anonymity. As far as the school administrators were aware, it could have been the king of England sending the money.

The walk back to their dorm was shared in stunned silence. It wasn’t until Ford was sitting on his bed that Fiddleford stopped pacing and stared out the window before gripping his hair and yelling, in the whisper yell mandates by shared walls, cried out.

“WHAT in the world is GOIN’ ON.”

Fiddleford turned to Ford, lowering his hands to gesture in confused annoyance.

“Well, we know whoever is sending this must have a lot of money on hand. And we have been covering a lot of neuroscience, and specifically how to alter brains- right? It’s probably some larger entity with stakes in our current research.” Ford posed, though his voice still tilted with unsureness.

“True, but you started getting the payments before the whole tie thing. So there must have been some sort of investment before then.” Fiddleford argued. Ford shrugged.

“I mean, I suppose the sheer number of courses I was taking may have been noteworthy?” He offered.

Fiddleford began to pace muttering to himself, before an idea seemed to strike him.

“Hey, if we can get into the school records and figure out what bank the money has been being wired from, maybe we can call them and ask for information?” Fiddleford suggested. Ford took a moment to think through the idea, before grinning and jumping up.

“Exactly! Even if we can’t get a name, we’ll still get a rough area and we can go through phone books until we find someone who has a ridiculous amount of disposable cash and a vested interest in both of us!” He exclaimed.

They were probably going to have to break into an office or something, hopefully childhood shenanigans with… his childhood shenanigans would help with that.

Bro you need to publish this on ao3 or post it on tumblr or SOMETHING because HOLY SHIT?!??!?!

THIS is exactly what I was imagining for the Au!!! This is fuckkng great!!! I LOVE LOVE THIS AND YOU AND AAAAAAAA

I imagine Fiddleford doesn't really worry about the random money Ford gets until HE starts getting it too. Then yeah he's freaking out because WHAT THE HECK??

I love this you wrote this so well, so nice and omg??? You did research??? That's more than I'd ever do XD

[quitealotofsodapop]

Lmk au idea.

Wukong isn't MK's teacher. At least, not in the same way he is in the show.

In this idea I had randomly pop into my head I'm thinking that Wukong had gone above and beyond simply vanishing for 500 years and hiding out on FFM. He straight up changed his identity and went into hiding as a mortal. He says fuck off to being a demon god, fuck off to all the gods and celestials and all his titles. He retires, fully and completely, passing his crown off to his Stalwarts and just becomes a wanderer traveling around, doing odd jobs and never staying in one place too long.

At some point over the centuries he ends up back in the village that he left his staff in, or rather, whay it became. A sprawling metropolis of a city that a person trying to disappear can easily do so. He set up shop, having had many hats over the years he's able to easily pick up a humble job nobody would blink twice at. Mechanics are always sorely needed in large cities after all.

One day at his shop a hauntingly familiar fave appears at his doorstep. Pigsy's truck had broken down while he was out with baby MK on a supply run and Wukong's shop had been the closest mechanic they could find. Wukong could sense something was special about MK, but not what or why and after he fixed up the truck he spent the next hour or so reminding himself that he is not Sun Wukong anymore, he is not part of that life anymore. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Wukong's mechanic work was something Pigsy liked, a lot. The truck was running smoother than if ever did before and the price was a steal! Wukong quickly became the favorite mechanic shop for Pigsy's Noodles and MK began to show up more often at the mechanic shop (he crashed a lot of stuff ok). Wukong ends up becoming the cool mechanic dude who helped teach MK how to mod his hoverboard and would often drop cryptic but helpful advice to the kid, Wukong having settled with the idea that he can look after the kid at least since it doesn't look like Zu Baijie's decendant or the kid were going to go away anytime soon. This led to meeting Tang and Mei, which were... experiences. And Wukong just ends up being a family friend to the Noodle Gang who likes cold vegetarian noodles.

Then a Hero is Born happens. Wukong hadn't been there for that experience. He was "on a supply run" when DBK was freed, he was in a different town entirely. So he wasnt physically present when MK became the Monkie Kid. It doesn't mean he wasn't completely uninvolved, though. Wukong isn't stupid, he knows DBK would eventually be freed, and he also knew it was possible someone else would pick up his staff. Afterall the staff had chosen him, not the other way around. It isn't unfeasable to imagine it'd pick another now that it's owner has put it down. Plus it isn't entirely impossible to imagine whoever it is would seek him out, he was the last known person to wield the Ruyi Jingu Bang after all.

He left a series of visions and astral projected recordings in his cave. The first being triggered should anyone breach his cave, the vision MK first sees when he enters Water Curtain Cave, only it doesn't stop at Wukong just running off. The projection speaks.

Wukong's recording. Looking as laid back and amused as can be: If you're seeing this, congrats! You got past my unstoppable barrier! Unfortunately I'm afraid that you won't be able to find me, as I would have been long gone from this place and am retired! So if your here for an autograph I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave.

MK: WHAT!?

Wukong's recording, becoming serious and almost sad: If you are a friend, however. I want to say I'm sorry, but please don't go seeking me out. I am hanging up my crown and title as the Great Sage and the Monkey King, and I don't not wish to be disturbed. Over the centuries I've come to realize my whole life I've done nothing but hurt the people I care about, so... for everyone's sake... I'm disappearing so that I can't hurt anyone again. Ever. And if you find my staff, I'm sorry I can't be there to help you. But I'll give you a piece of advice I learned, believe in yourself. Even just a smidge can make all the difference.

MK is gobsmacked at the thought that Sun Wukong had just up and left like that, that he's been gone for a long time and won't be able to help. He decides if Wukong wasn't there to be a hero anymore, he'd do it for him. Just a smidge makes a difference, right?

And so the Monkie Kid becomes the Monkie Kid. Over the next season or so he struggles a lot with his powers, not having a proper mentor. See, unlike the rest of the Noodle Gang, since Wukong wasn't physically present when MK became the town hero he isn't ever explicitly told it's MK. MK literally just forgets to mention it to him, but he does his best to help where he can. Giving advice where he can.

Most everything else was done without his input, altho MK did find it weird that the Calabash seemed to think his mechanic friend was the Monkey King. It's the first hint he ever has that Wukong was not as he seemed, but he write it off as him simply thinking of Wukong as a mentor figure since he's always been supportive and gave helpful advice and the Calabash substituting the Monkey King for Wukong.

Even the Macaque episode was done mostly without his input, altho a certain black furred monkey was not happy that his attempt to lure Wukong out didn't work at all. Wukong had been busy with renovations to expand the shop at the time, thus where the "step into the strike" advice came from since MK had been helping Wukong with tearing down the wall.

The big reveal about Wukong being the Monkey King only happens during Revenge of the Spider Queen, when Wukong has no choice but to step in as the Monkey King. And believe me, he is absolutely not happy about the matter. He doesn't run away once everything is done and over, but it's very clear that he is upset by the way he avoids everyone and jsut sits curled up on the rooftop. When asked why he never told them, especially knowing MK was using his staff, he first points out MK had never explicitly told him about the whole Monkie Kid business so he had no reason to "know" anything about it. Then he jsut points to the destroyed city.

Wukong: This is what happens everytime the Monkey King appears. Destruction, death, and chaos. I didn't want to be that anymore.

This spun off from a convo on how Wukong likely felt abandoned by his mentor(s), beginning with Subodhi, the allies he made in Heaven before the war, Guanyin, and even Tripitaka when the monk passed.

Wukong, going by just "Wu", drifting along the centuries living a mortal life. Packs up and leaves whenever conflict or war breaks out, or when people start to get suspicious.

His number one rule? Never get attached. Never again...

He becomes a mechanic (a real "grease monkey" if you will). Although he loves medicine and herbalism, it simply has too many paper trails. Also cars are fun to tinker with and don't talk back most of the time. Less likely to make a connection.

He eventually returns to the village where he lay his Staff down for good. Just seemed right coming up to the 500 year anniversary of one of his biggest regrets. The village has since become a sprawling mega-city, open to humans and demons alike. There he plants his roots.

The biggest shock of his life comes when he sees his brothers faces and souls all over again. Three in new bodies, and one in the same. A certain fish demon had pretended he didnt recognise him, and Wu returned the courtesy - seems he wasn't the only one from the old days to retire.

He wonders if it was the right decision to settle in Megapolis...

Until the day Pigsy knocks on Wu's shop, breathless and carrying a wiggly baby human (?). His food truck had given up the ghost and the cook desperately needed repairs asap! Wu simply couldn't turn him away.

Through the conversation and the repair process, the wiggly baby maybe-human had stared at the monkey demon with absolute wonder. Wu isn't sure why until he overhears the cub blabble something into his father's ear.

MK: "Mon-ken." Pigsy, fond sigh: "No MK, that's not the Monkey King. He just looks like the drawing in your Baba's book." Wu, nearly drops the truck on himself: "Eh?" Pigsy, little embarassed: "Oh! Sorry. The piglet is convinced that you're the Monkey King. My partner researches mythology and stuff, and he fills the kid's head with all sorts of ideas." Wu, rolls out from under the truck with a cheeky smile: "It's no problem. You'd be surprised how often I get mistaken for him! Think its the fur." (*Wu shares a glance at MK, the baby human is still staring at him unconvinced. Wukong makes a unsubtle shush motion and winks - causing the little human to wiggle once more with joy. Pigsy sighs fondly once more, knowing that the boy will most definitely hold this moment dear throughout his childhood*)

With that one chance meeting, Wukong breaks his number one rule; Never get attached.

It's not his fault he fixed the truck so good that Pigsy became a loyal customer! And the pig demon began tipping him with free cold vegetarian noodles. And that the scholar at the shop and him started info-dumping together! And that the little human began seeing him as a beloved uncle...

Oh yeah. Wu is in too deep. Hopefully nothing too chaotic happens within the next few years or so >:3

You can say a certain monkey demon nearly had a heart attack when he learned that someone had finally taken up his Staff - and that it was his little buddy!! Also Sandy is back in the gang, so they can't pretend that they dont know each other for long.

Wu would *like* to step up and reveal himself as the Monkey King to MK - but he feels that would just make things so much worse. The kid's trust in him would shatter immediately. So it's better to leave his projections on FFM to do the physical training, and for Uncle Wu to provide him with much-needed emotional guidance.

Sharing this dm you sent in particular based on the "Macaque" episode cus it's a tasty piece of dialogue:

MK: "Is it really better to focus your power into every attack?" Wu: "Hm, that's a lonely way of thinking. And dangerous. Look at this hammer I use for example, it's strong but if I'm not careful an just bang away at metal, it'd hit hard but it'd cause more damage to myself and the people around me. But if I were to... step into the swing so to speak and not depend on the hammer but rather my own strength, it's easier to control and has less risk of hurting myself."

He had been doing renovations on the wall to expand his business at the time, thus why he was banging at the wall with a hammer.

Eventually the episode ends with Macaque calling desperately out to the battlefield - almost begging for his king to reappear. The shadow monkey is so occupied in his despair and anger that MK manages to slip free and reclaim his power.

MK promptly bullies Macaque into actually mentoring him. Macaque chuckles at the nerve of this kid, and agrees - but only as a truce until Wukong returns. After that, Macaque expects a rematch.

Unironically loving this AU

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Chapter 1- Malign

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Lots and lots of angst (sorry but not sorry), very toxic behaviours from both Bucky and Reader, 18+ MDNI

Length: 1.2k

Summary: You and Bucky are going through a rough patch. Is it something worth fixing?

A/N: Ok, so this has been an idea that I’ve been playing with for a few days so I decided to try it out. This is completely different from what I normally do. I plan to make this a mini-series, about 3-5 parts. I’d like to think this is Bucky after trying to acclimate back into a more “normal” life because let’s be honest, he’s a man with PTSD and lost a good chunk of his life. I was listening to The Black Dog and The Prophecy while writing this so it’s more angsty than I imagined.

You wake up cold, noticing an absence beside you. Part of you wants to stay in bed, not wanting to look for him. But the other part, the part that chooses to ignore the past few months, wants to. After about thirty seconds of debating, the latter wins.

You get out of bed and leave your bedroom. You find Bucky in the living room nursing a bottle of whiskey and Asgardian liquor, blankly staring at the wall. You let out a frustrated sigh and he looks up at you.

“Hey,” You say softly, trying to hide your true emotions.

He rolls his eyes and puts the bottle down on the coffee table. “What do you want?

You frown. “Never mind.”

Bucky rolls his eyes again. “Why are you giving me this ‘never mind’ bullshit?”

“You clearly don’t want to be bothered right now, so I’m going back to bed.”

You turn around and start to walk back to your shared bedroom. “Doll, wait.”

You pause and he gets up from the couch, moving in front of you. You both sit in silence before you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yes?”

“Why do you think you’re bothering me?”

You let out a scoff and shake your head. “I don’t know, maybe because you rolled your eyes and asked me, ‘what do you want’?”

Bucky lets out a frustrated groan. “You’re taking it the wrong way.”

“How am I supposed to take it, Bucky? Because to me, it sounds like you’re already pissed at me.”

Bucky looks down at you with a grumpy expression. “I’m already pissed at other stuff, it’s not you.”

“Well I’m still going to bed, I don’t want to be around you when you’re like this.”

“Why are you like this?” He mutters and rolls his eyes once more.

“Why do I have to be like this? That’s really funny coming from you.” 

“You always take things the wrong way.”

“You wanted space, I’m giving you space.” You finally decided to walk around him.

“I never said I wanted space!” He calls after you before deciding to follow you to your bedroom.

“Well you clearly are not in the mood to be around me so I’m removing myself from the situation.” You feel your throat tighten.

The past few months have been like this. It started off with small arguments like leaving a dish in the sink for a while, to making everything a fight. You don’t know what’s changed between the two of you. You both were like a well oiled machine, you both knowing what the other needed. But recently, you both were out of sync.

“Why do you always do this? Don’t walk away while we’re talking.” Bucky grabs your arm.

His grip is firm but not hard enough to hurt you. You jump and turn around, your eyes watering so much that a tear slips out.

“Let go.” Bucky immediately drops your arm.

“Why are you crying?” He asks gently.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because my boyfriend is in one of his moods?” You wipe your tears.

“This is so you,” Bucky lets out a scoff. “I told you it’s not about you. Not everything is about you.”

You feel a searing heat in your chest. “If that’s how you feel.”

You turn around and close the door, locking it behind you. Bucky stares at the door for a minute with his eyes widened. He pounds on the door.

He calls your name. “Open the door.”

You pull out a bag. “No.”

He calls your name again. “Open the damn door!”

“I’m not staying in the same room as you.” You pack some clothes and continue to wipe your tears.

“Just open the door!” You finally listen to him.

“You have two options, you either find somewhere else to sleep or I leave.”

“You can’t kick me out of our apartment.” He furrows his eyebrows.

You bring the bag over your shoulder. “Fine, I’m leaving then.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, noticing the bag finally. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I don’t know, maybe with Wanda or Natasha.”

Bucky steps in front of you. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay here, in our room.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Then where are you going?”

“Why do I have to go somewhere? I didn’t do anything.”

“If you can’t see this clearly, then I can’t sleep under the same roof as you. Whether you like it or not, I’m not staying here tonight.”

“Please, don’t go Doll.” Bucky pleads as a last attempt.

“I can’t be in the same room as you right now.” You walk around him.

“Why are you being so damn difficult? You don’t need to run to Wanda or Natasha.”

“We can talk about this tomorrow. Once you’re not drunk.” You leave the room and head down the hall to the front door.

Bucky follows you out, going back to his spot on the couch. He takes a swig of the whiskey.

“Go, see if I care.” He scowls.

You falter in your steps for a moment. “Go to bed Bucky.”

You walk out of the front door, feeling Bucky’s glare. Bucky stares at the door for a moment before throwing the empty whiskey glass at the wall.

You hear the crash and turn to open the door. You stand there for a moment, your hand on the door knob debating on going back inside. You know Bucky, this isn’t who he is. But you can’t go back in. You turn around and make your way to Natasha’s.

Natasha’s apartment isn’t far from your apartment that you share with Bucky. You get there within 5 minutes and knock on her door.

Natasha opens the door, her eyebrows pulled together. “What are you doing here?”

You let yourself cry. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Natasha opens the door wider, ushering you in. “Of course, Babe.”

A few minutes later, you’re crying on the couch with a hot cup of cocoa. “I just don’t know where it all went wrong. It felt as if everything was going well, and now all we do is fight. I didn’t even want to look for him when I woke up.”

Natasha rubs your arm soothingly. “I understand. Bucky has a lot of baggage.”

“I don’t care about that.”

And it’s true. You know his past, his current nightmares, how he became who he is. It didn’t bother you because Bucky seemed to be improving.

“It feels like he’s going backwards. And…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t know if I want to stay around for that.”

Natasha nods her head. “No one would blame you if you wanted to take some time for yourself. Whether it’s a short break or a permanent one. But before you decide, maybe you need to sleep on it too.”

You nod. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Natasha takes the almost empty mug from your hands and places it on her coffee table. “You know you can stay here as long as you want, right?”

You nod again. “Yes, thank you Nat. Really, for everything.”

Natasha hugs you. “No need to thank me. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

You follow Natasha to the guest room. You get into bed, thinking about everything. Do you want to break up with Bucky?

Temporarily?

Permanently?

[heliosunny]

ONE LUCKY EGG MYDEI FIC AND MY LIFE IS YOURS‼️‼️🗣🔥🔥

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Mydei x Reader

The gentle hum of the Lucky Egg Dispenser filled the room as you inserted the coin, anticipation building in your chest. The machine whirred, shaking slightly before dispensing a shimmering, golden egg that pulsed faintly in your hands. Its warmth was comforting, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement.

3 days later.

“Let’s see what companion I’ve got” you muttered, carefully setting the egg on the table.

You barely had time to step back when the egg’s glow intensified, filling the room with blinding light. Before you could shield your eyes, a deafening boom shattered the tranquility, sending shards of light and energy flying across the room. The force knocked over furniture, cracked walls, and shattered your window.

Coughing amidst the settling dust, you squinted to make out a tall figure emerging from the smoke. His hair flowed down his shoulders, gleaming in the scattered sunlight. His golden eyes locked onto yours. His body, adorned with an aura of untamed power, stood proudly amidst the chaos he had just caused.

“Finally” the man said, his voice smooth yet commanding. His gaze softened slightly as he took a step closer. “You’re the one who summoned me.”

“What… what the hell was that?!” you exclaimed, gesturing wildly to the wrecked room around you. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This place is unlivable now!”

His expression shifted, almost sheepish, as he glanced at the destruction. “It was… unintentional. But none of that matters. You’re mine now, and I’ll protect you with my life.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, frustration bubbling up. “I don’t even know who, or what you are, and now I have to deal with this! I’m going to have to move into a temporary apartment while they fix everything!”

The man’s brows furrowed, concern flashing across his face. “If it’s inconvenient, I’ll assist in any way I can. But first—” He reached out to you, his golden eyes unwavering. “Tell me your name.”

You hesitated before answering, feeling an almost magnetic pull toward him. As you told him, he repeated your name softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Perfect. I’ll make sure nothing ever harms you.”

Still reeling from the mess, you decided to focus on the practicalities. Looking at him, his imposing stature, confident demeanor, and the sheer energy radiating from him—you had a thought. “You seem… powerful,” you said reluctantly. “I can’t keep you here doing nothing. Let’s get you some gear. If you’re going to be sticking around, you’re coming with me to the dungeon runs.”

His smile widened. “I’ll prove to you that summoning me was the best decision you’ve ever made.”

You weren’t so sure about that yet, but at least you could put his abilities to use. Grabbing your things, you motioned for him to follow, his gaze never leaving you as you headed toward the weapon shop.

The bell above the weapon shop door jingled as you stepped inside, the smell of steel and wood filling your senses. Mydei followed silently behind you, his golden eyes scanning the rows of weapons with an almost predatory focus. The shopkeeper gave him a wary glance, likely sensing the sheer aura of power radiating from him.

“You can pick anything you want” you said, gesturing to the displays. “But keep in mind, it has to be something you’re comfortable using in a dungeon.”

Mydei strode forward, his movements fluid yet purposeful, until he stopped before a rack of spears. His hand hovered briefly over a longsword, but he passed it by with little interest. His attention landed on a sleek spear, razor-sharp blade etched with faint golden runes.

“This one” he said, his voice calm but firm.

You raised an eyebrow. “A spear? Are you sure? Most people stick with swords for versatility.”

He turned to you, the faintest smirk on his lips. “With my strength, range and precision are all I need.” He lifted the spear effortlessly, testing its weight and balance before giving a satisfied nod.

The shopkeeper hesitated but eventually approached. “A good choice” he muttered, ringing up the weapon. You paid for it and turned to Mydei.

“Alright, let’s see if you can actually back up all this confidence in the dungeon.”

The dungeon was a chaotic labyrinth of shadowy corridors and roaring beasts, yet Mydei moved through it with calculated ease. His spear spun like an extension of himself, piercing enemies with a precision and force that made your jaw drop. Monsters that usually took you and a full party several minutes to defeat were falling in mere seconds.

You could barely keep up as his movements blurred, the sheer power behind each strike sending shockwaves through the dungeon. Each time you tried to cast a support spell, the battle would already be over, leaving you scrambling to follow him to the next group of enemies.

By the time you reached the dungeon boss, it was over in a flash. Mydei’s spear impaled the massive creature straight through its core, reducing it to shimmering particles before it could even attack. You stared at him, wide-eyed, as he calmly wiped the blood off his weapon.

“That was… insane” you finally managed, still catching your breath.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable but his tone steady. “You expected less?”

You let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “No, I guess not. With your build and the way you handle yourself, I should’ve known.”

He stepped closer, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “If it’s for you, there’s nothing I can’t do.”

You felt a slight heat rise to your cheeks at the intensity of his gaze and turned away, trying to focus. “Well, we’ve cleared the dungeon faster than anyone else probably ever has. Let’s just turn in these points and get out of here.”

As you both exited the dungeon, Mydei suddenly stopped and turned toward you. Before you could ask why, he bent down slightly and swept you off your feet, cradling you effortlessly in his arms.

“Hey! What are you doing?” you protested, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance.

He glanced down at you, his golden eyes calm yet unwavering. “You’ve been walking for too long. You’ll tire yourself out.”

“I can walk just fine” you huffed, squirming slightly. “Put me down!”

He didn’t budge, holding you securely as if your protests were nothing but a formality. “No. It’s easier this way, and I’d prefer it.”

You sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing with him when he was like this. Mydei had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t care about how unconventional his actions seemed. If anything, he seemed completely at ease carrying you through the bustling streets, ignoring the curious stares from passersby.

“You know,” you muttered, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, “you could at least ask before doing this kind of thing.”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening. “Next time, I’ll ask. But my answer will still be the same.”

You groaned but eventually relented, leaning back slightly in his arms as he carried you toward the guild. Mydei’s habit of picking you up without warning was frustrating, but the way he carried himself—calm, strong, and entirely focused on you made it hard to stay mad at him for long.

Later that evening, the two of you stopped at a bustling tavern to eat. Mydei had already insisted on carrying you part of the way there, drawing curious glances, but the moment he stepped into the establishment, the room fell silent. His presence commanded attention, his towering build, sharp golden eyes, and the air of strength surrounding him were impossible to ignore.

Once seated, he ordered a feast that left the waiter blinking in disbelief. Plate after plate of roasted meats, stews, and fresh bread piled up on the table, and he devoured it all with the precision of a seasoned warrior fueling up after a battle.

The murmurs started soon after.

“Who is he?”

“He looks like a knight from some noble family.”

“Did you see the way he defeated that boss earlier? He’s not human, I swear!”

Some bold individuals, including a group of giggling girls, finally approached your table.

“Excuse me,” one of them said shyly, her cheeks flushed. “You’re… incredible! Are you a mercenary? Where are you from?”

Mydei paused mid-bite and turned his gaze toward you, silently asking for permission to answer. You blinked, caught off guard by his gesture. After a moment, you nodded hesitantly.

“I am not a mercenary” he said simply, his deep voice calm but commanding.

Another girl chimed in. “Then are you part of a guild? Or maybe a knight’s order?”

Once again, he glanced at you before responding. “No.”

The girls exchanged curious glances, their excitement undeterred. “Wow… You’re so strong and mysterious!”

A few men from nearby tables joined in, clearly intrigued. “You’ve got the aura of a seasoned warrior. What’s your training like?”

Mydei looked to you again, and you sighed. “You can answer that one.”

“I’ve trained my entire life for battle” he said plainly, his tone leaving no room for further questions.

Despite his succinct answers, the onlookers continued to hover, the girls swooning over his every word and the men admiring his presence. Yet, each time someone addressed him, his gaze would return to you, as if seeking approval.

It wasn’t long before the constant attention began to wear on you. You leaned closer to Mydei and muttered, “Maybe we should wrap this up before they start asking for autographs.”

He nodded, finishing his last plate with a calm efficiency that only added to his mystique. As the two of you stood to leave, the crowd parted instinctively, watching with awe as he followed you out.

The moment you stepped outside, he broke the silence. “You seemed… uncomfortable.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You think? You’ve got half the town fangirling over you.”

“They’re irrelevant” he said firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re the only one I care to hear from.”

His bluntness left you momentarily speechless. With a sigh, you shook your head and started walking, already dreading the next time you’d be in public with him.

As the two of you walked down the quiet street, you heard a faint, distressed meow. Looking up, you spotted a small cat clinging to the highest branch of a tree. Below, a young child was crying, calling out for their pet.

Without hesitation, you stepped closer to the tree and glanced at Mydei. “Give me a boost. I’ll get it down.”

He frowned, his golden eyes narrowing. “You’re too short. Let me handle it.”

You huffed. “I can manage just fine.”

Before you could argue further, Mydei effortlessly plucked you up and set you on a sturdy lower branch, his strength making it seem like you weighed nothing. You climbed up carefully, reaching the trembling cat and scooping it into your arms.

Once back on the ground, you handed the cat to the crying child, who beamed with gratitude. “Thank you, thank you!” they said, hugging their furry companion tightly before running off.

As you brushed dirt off your hands, Mydei’s voice broke the silence. “You should eat more.”

You blinked, turning to him. “What?”

“To grow taller” he added casually, his expression serious. “You’re too small. A stronger build would help in dungeons.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, glaring at him. “I don’t need advice from someone who thinks carrying me everywhere is a solution to everything!”

He tilted his head, unbothered by your irritation, and before you could continue scolding him, he stepped closer and pulled you into a hug.

“Hey! What—”

“It wasn’t meant to offend you” he said, his deep voice softer now. His arms tightened slightly, holding you close. “I just… don’t want you to be fragile.”

You sighed, the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice defusing your anger. “I’m not fragile, Mydei.”

“You are to me” he murmured, his tone unwavering.

Before you could respond, the soft glow of the streetlamps dimmed as the night deepened, casting long shadows across the cobblestone road. Mydei adjusted his hold on you, scooping you up as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Seriously? Again?” you muttered, too tired to fight him this time.

“It’s safer this way” he said simply, his golden eyes scanning the darkened street ahead. “You should rest.”

As he carried you home, the sound of his steady footsteps and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing lulled you into a sense of calm. Though you’d never admit it out loud, there was something oddly comforting about the way he always insisted on protecting you, even if his methods drove you crazy.

It was a sunny day at the zoo, and you thought it might be a nice change of pace for Mydei to experience something calmer for once. He was quiet as usual, observing the animals with mild curiosity. His warrior-like aura felt out of place among families and tourists, but he stayed close to you, his presence drawing the occasional glance.

As you approached the lion exhibit, a commotion broke out. The gates to a new lion’s cage had somehow failed, and the massive beast leapt out, snarling in rage. The crowd screamed, scattering in every direction as the lion’s piercing eyes locked onto you.

You froze, the realization of its trajectory sinking in too late. The lion lunged toward you with a deafening roar.

But before it could reach you, Mydei stepped in front, his movements faster than your eyes could follow. With one hand, he caught the lion mid-air by its scruff, halting its momentum entirely. The beast thrashed and roared, but Mydei’s grip was unyielding.

Effortlessly, he turned and hurled the lion back into its cage as though it weighed nothing. The heavy clang of the gate slamming shut echoed through the stunned silence.

You grabbed his arm immediately, your heart pounding. “Mydei, let’s go! Before someone—”

But it was already too late. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the remaining crowd as people started pulling out their phones.

You tugged on his arm urgently. “We can’t stay here. Come on!”

Without resistance, he let you drag him away from the scene, his expression calm as if nothing unusual had happened.

Back at home, you flicked on the TV, only to find footage of the incident already playing on the local news. Blurry videos showed Mydei’s effortless handling of the lion, and the commentators were speculating wildly about his identity.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid!”

Mydei, sitting beside you, tilted his head. “Should I have let it attack you?”

You sighed. “Of course not, but maybe next time don’t—” You paused, realizing how absurd it was to scold him for saving your life. “Never mind. Just… try not to stand out so much?”

He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on you instead of the screen. After a long moment, he said softly, “Standing out doesn’t matter. Protecting you does.”

Your face warmed, and you quickly looked away, deciding that arguing with him was pointless.

With your house finally repaired, it was time to move back. Mydei carried most of your belongings effortlessly, his usual habit of treating you like you were delicate extending even to the furniture. As you arrived, one of the repair team members approached with a wide grin.

“Y/N!” the man greeted warmly. “Long time no see!”

You blinked in surprise. “Oh, hey! It’s been a while.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms. “Guess fate brought me to fix your place, huh? We really pulled it together for you.”

“Thanks a lot. It looks amazing!” you replied with genuine gratitude.

The man’s gaze shifted to Mydei, who stood silently by your side, his imposing aura impossible to ignore. “And who’s this? Your bodyguard?”

Before you could answer, he smirked mischievously. “Wait, don’t tell me… is this the guy you ditched me for? You know, after that engagement I proposed in middle school?”

You froze, feeling your stomach drop. “What? That was a joke! We were kids—”

But the damage was already done. Mydei’s golden eyes darkened, his sharp gaze locking onto the man. A tense silence hung in the air as the atmosphere grew heavy.

“You proposed to them?” Mydei’s voice was low, cold, and dangerous.

The man, clearly oblivious to the brewing storm, laughed. “Relax, man. I was joking.”

Mydei’s expression didn’t waver, his focus still trained on the man as though weighing his worth. You quickly stepped between them, raising your hands. “Okay, that’s enough! Mydei, he’s just messing around. It’s nothing.”

After a long, agonizing moment, Mydei exhaled slowly, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at you. “If you say so.”

The man blinked, finally sensing the tension. “Uh… right. I’ll just… get going then. Nice meeting you, big guy.” He gave an awkward wave before quickly retreating.

As soon as he was out of earshot, you sighed. “You didn’t have to scare him like that.”

“He disrespected you” Mydei said simply, his tone still cold.

“It was a joke!”

“Even so.” He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “No one should think they can claim you, even in jest.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache coming on. “Let’s just get everything unpacked, okay?”

Without another word, Mydei scooped you up, again, and carried you inside, leaving no room for argument.

“The highest-ranked individual in the dungeon remains undefeated. Known for their sheer strength and mastery over battle, Barette dominates the underground labyrinth, ruling over all who enter.” The news anchor spoke.

You leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. “Sounds like a king of the dungeon” you mused absentmindedly. “That must be cool.”

Beside you, Mydei sat in silence. His golden eyes were fixed on the screen, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Cool?” he repeated, his voice quiet, contemplative.

You nodded. “Yeah. If you’re at the top, you can do whatever you want. No one can stand in your way.”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, Mydei exhaled a soft chuckle. “I see.”

That was the last thing he said before he disappeared.

Days later, the news returned with a different story.

“A new ruler of the dungeon has emerged. In an unprecedented display of skill, a single individual has conquered its depths alone, surpassing all challengers before them.”

Your breath caught as the screen showed grainy footage- bodies of defeated opponents littering the battlefield, and standing amidst the wreckage was a lone figure. His spear gleamed under the dim dungeon lights.

Mydei.

You barely heard the rest of the report over the sound of your own heartbeat.

“You were right” came a familiar voice from behind.

You turned slowly, finding him standing in the doorway. His armor bore the marks of battle, his hands still wrapped in the scent of blood and steel. There was no arrogance in his expression, no need for praise, only quiet certainty.

“A king of the dungeon can have whatever they want” Mydei murmured, stepping closer. “Tell me what you desire.”

You hesitated, but his gaze remained steady, unwavering.

“I’ll obtain anything for you.” he continued, his voice almost gentle. “So long as you stay by my side.”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

You’re writing is seriously the best.

Do you think that you could do something about married hero x villain where one of them comes home after a long day and the other one gives them a massage? Either fluff or nsft - if you’re feeling it.

“My god…”

The villain watched silently as their (cursing) hero crawled through the window and let themselves drop to the floor of the living room. There, right on the carpet, the hero remained, their chest rising and falling quickly.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not,” the villain said. However, they did smile as they took a sip from their drink.

“Just give me a sec.”

“Take your time, sweetheart.” Obviously, the villain liked watching them, especially when their spouse came home from patrol. All exhausted, breathing heavily and complaining about their strained muscles — the villain was quite sure merely looking at the hero could entertain them forever.

“You need some help?” they asked eventually, tilting their head curiously. The hero didn’t look particularly injured - they would have complained about it right away anyway - but the hero did look more exhausted than usual.

The hero didn’t answer, but they pushed themselves up, dragged themselves across the room, only to drop to their knees in front of the villain again.

The hero was covered in blood and sweat, but judging from the hero’s unbroken skin, the blood didn’t seem to be theirs. That was somewhat comforting. Stitching up their beloved was one of those things the villain loathed.

Undoubtedly, their spouse kneeling in front of them did something to them. The villain could practically feel how their heartbeat increased, how they wanted to devour their hero right now.

“Are you alright?” the villain asked. The hero pressed their cheek against the villain’s thigh, closed their eyes and nudged them. Searching for comfort and warmth like a lonely dog in winter. Immediately, the villain let their fingers go through the hero’s hair. It made their spouse groan quietly and the villain’s eyes widened, their poor heart beating even louder. “Rough day, huh?”

“You have no idea…” The hero sighed dramatically. “We had to defuse that nasty bomb under the bridge and obviously it didn’t work, but then it did and then it didn’t and then it did…anyway…I fell into the river because some rookie messed up the safety gear…”

“Oh, poor you…” The villain touched the hero’s cheek with their fingertips, then their jaw, then their bottom lip. Their self-control was hanging by a thread. “You didn’t get hurt?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just exhausted. And my socks are wet now.”

“Come here.” The hero looked up from their place on the ground and they did, in fact, look incredibly worn out yet sweet. The villain took their hand and helped them up. As soon as the hero was standing on two trembling legs, the villain put their hands on the hero’s hips and pulled their spouse towards them.

Everything felt a little better now that the hero was sitting on their lap.

“You’ve been so brave today, haven’t you?” the villain whispered gently.

“…I tried my best.” The hero leaned back against the villain and let out another long sigh. Even with their eyes closed, they searched for the villain’s hand. Unsurprisingly, they found it right away.

Their fingers intertwined.

And the villain could have fallen asleep right here, right now. With the hero on their lap, with that bloody and wet suit pressed against them, with that sweet spouse of theirs reeking of river water.

“You’re gonna catch a cold, we should take a shower,” the villain said. On the hero’s back, they opened the zipper of the suit, dragging it all the way down. “Don’t you think?”

“…yeah, sorry, I…sorry, I’m so tired. ”

“You know you don’t have to apologise for that, sweetheart.” The villain stared at the hero’s bare back and very gently, they pressed their thumb into the hero’s skin.

Immediately, the hero hissed and arched their back, but the villain shushed them softly.

“It’s okay, I’ll be gentler,” the villain promised and although they were indeed a lot gentler, the hero still wriggled as if the villain was torturing them. “You’re so dramatic…I’m barely even touching you.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” the hero complained. “So I move like this on your lap?”

The villain grinned and pressed a kiss to the back of the hero’s neck. “No, but thank you for giving me new ideas.”

They pressed into the hero’s skin again and received a lovely squeak.

“…you’re so precious, do you know that?”

“Ugh, you’re so enticing today,” the hero said, but the villain could tell their ears were turning red. Besides, they had moved on the villain’s lap this entire time on purpose and they were fully aware of the effects.

They always were.

“I can stop if you want to.” The villain pressed another kiss against the hero’s neck, but didn’t quite part yet. Their lips were still on the hero’s skin, their hands around their spouse. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Of course not,” the hero whispered. They leaned back again and let their head rest on the villain’s shoulder. They looked at each other for a while. And eventually, the hero let their fingers brush the villain’s cheekbone.

“If work is too much, my offer still stands. I can kill a few—”

“It’s okay,” the hero interrupted them. “Let’s take a shower together and go to bed, that’s all I need. I just need to recharge for a few days. I promise I’ll take a break when it’s too much.”

“Alright,” the villain said. They smiled. “I trust you.”

They spent over an hour in that shower.

[domjaehyun]

https://x.com/nctzoro/status/1884280714981695989?s=46&mx=2

a jaehyun ver. for I Love Nerds perhaps 🤓☝🏻??? going crazy over him in glasses ever since the content dropped HOW IS HE REAL??? 😭

nerd jaehyun earnestly and eagerly telling you allllll about the intentionality behind music theory and whole time you’re just thinking about how good he would feel on top of you.

when you decide to cut to the chase and put your hand on his leg, he just freezes, looks at it, looks up at you, and then smiles widely and goes back to talking (he has no idea what you’re doing). you’re getting a teeny bit frustrated at this point so you slip your hand up higher and maybe you even squeeze a little bit.

fortunately, this definitely gets his attention, and his sentence is rudely interrupted by his sudden, flustered coughing fit. whole time he’s coughing, his torso is pivoting and moving this way and that but you can’t help but notice that he’s doing everything in his power not to move the one leg that you’re holding onto while his body is wracked with coughs and dry hacking.

as ridiculous as he looks right now, his loud medical emergency unwittingly drawing attention to yourselves tucked away in the corner of the library, you can’t help but be endeared to him.

“jaehyunnnn,” you whine when he’s done coughing up what sounds like his gallbladder or some other internal organ. “i wanna go back to my dorm.”

his face falls—and it falls fast. “oh, i’m sorry,” he mumbles woefully, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he sniffs once and looks away from you.

“sorry?” you ask, confused. “for what?”

“for talking too much and making you want to go home,” he answers sadly, his brows starting to knit together in the middle as his emotions get the better of him. “sorry, i just got so excited, and i know you don’t care, so i shouldn’t have gone on the way i did—“

“jaehyun, i think you’re confused.” you say slowly. “i’m going to my dorm,” you explain, pointing at yourself.

he nods slowly in understanding.

you turn your hand to point at him. “and you’re going to my dorm.”

his eyes widen and he turns to look at you so suddenly that it sends his glasses slipping halfway down his nose. “i’m going to your dorm…?” he asks, a tinge of excitement and relief creeping into his voice.

“yes.” you nod.

“with you.”

“yes, with me.” you hold back your laugh.

“we’re going together.”

“yes, sir.”

“to your dorm.”

“indeed.”

“where we’ll be together… alone…”

“most definitely…”

“in your dorm.”

“you know what?” you chuckle, rising to your feet. “you take as long as you need to process this. i’m gonna head to the bathroom and you should be packing up or packed by the time i get back, okay?” you run your fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands into a messy, tousled look that screams effortlessly handsome, and if you’re not mistaken, he shivers a bit at your touch when your nails reach the back of his neck. experimentally, you drag your nails along the nape of his neck and lightly across the side of his jaw until you’re playfully tugging at his earlobe affectionately.

you maybe expected a giggle or a chuckle perhaps from him; maybe even a “stop, that tickles” or something of the sort. what you didn’t expect in the slightest was for his eyes to roll all the way back into his head and flutter shut as he lets out a low, delighted groan.

“oh?” you giggle, stroking the shell of his ear with one finger.

“holy shit, keep doing that,” he grunts.

“mm, yeah? feels good?” you can’t hide your smile and the smugness it’s tinted with, but it’s not like it matters—jaehyun is so wrapped up in your ministrations on his head that his eyes are shut tightly and his mouth is hanging open ever so slightly, shallow, almost ragged breaths leaving him.

“feels so good.” he admits in a slurred mumble as you proceed to scritch and scratch gently at his head with one hand and massage his ear with the other. to your surprise, he reaches up and loops an arm around the backs of your legs, pulling you between his slowly parting legs to bring you directly in front of him.

“hi,” you hum sweetly, and he looks up at you, pupils blown out with desire and an utterly overwhelmed look on his face.

“hi,” he mumbles shyly, watching you intently. when you resume massaging his ear, he turns his head in so his lips can press against the inside of your forearm. it starts off slowly, a brushing against each other so light that you think you imagined it. but when he sighs softly, his warm breath moistening your skin before he unmistakably presses his lips to your skin, you know it’s not all in your head.

he looks up at you for a reaction and when you just watch him wordlessly, intrigued and a bit amused with your head cocked to the side, he does it again. and again, lips shifting further up your forearm—and further still, until his lips are smooching the crook of your arm and you’re giggling in surprise—and even still, his fingers hurriedly pushing up your sleeve so he can kiss the newly exposed flesh.

“jaehyun,” you hum to get his attention.

“mm?” he hears you, you’re pretty sure, but it’s obvious he’s not truly listening as he kisses a path from your inner elbow, down your forearm, and to your hand, where he places kiss after kiss after kiss—your wrist, the very center of the palm of your hand, the fingertips of your middle and ring fingers, and when you attempt to pull your hand away to tilt his head up so you’re looking at each other, he grumbles something whiny in protest and his eyes scan your surroundings as if he’s looking for something.

your curiosity gets the better of you and you can’t help but ask. “jaehyun, baby, what are you looking around for?”

“i wanted to make sure you and i were actually alone and that nobody’s watching us.” he murmurs, but there’s an urgency to it you haven’t heard from him before, and that coupled with the dark, unwavering look in his eyes only piques your interest further.

“why?” you say slowly, dragging the word out a bit to emphasize your confusion.

“so i can do this,” he mumbles, eyes darting briefly around for good measure before he’s clutching the hand he’s been kissing and bringing your fingers to his mouth, pressing soft, gentle kisses to each pad of your fingers as you giggle shyly in delight. “feels good?” he murmurs, and you are absolutely certain you’re not hallucinating the suggestive, teasing lilt to his voice.

“yeah,” you sigh blissfully, and he chuckles with your fingers still pressed to his lips.

“what about this?” he doesn’t even give you time to reply before he’s leaning forward and taking your middle and index fingers into his mouth. you gasp in surprise—because of course you do; the very hot music nerd has you between his legs and your fingers in his warm, wet mouth and while you want this, oh, so very badly, this is not how you anticipated it to go.

he’s sucking on them eagerly, fingers looped tightly around your wrist so you couldn’t yank it away even if you wanted to. when his tongue comes into play, the mischievous wet muscle gliding along your fingers and swirling around them, you realize you might just be a goner.

he smirks—yes, smirks—when a small moan escapes you, and he slowly pulls your fingers from his mouth but doesn’t release your hand from its position, your fingertips dangling pointlessly just a breath away from his waiting mouth.

to your surprise, he stands up and haphazardly shoves his laptop and notebook in his bag before slinging it over his shoulder. he stretches his hand out for your bag, which you hand him readily without even really processing it fully. with a firm grasp on your bag and his bag securely on his back, he nods to you in agreement and starts to lead you out of the library.

“where are we going?” you wonder aloud as he leads you through the shelves and study tables with a sureness, a confidence and an energy that, once again, you don’t think you’ve ever seen from him.

“your dorm, baby. you forgot so soon?” he has the absolute audacity to tease you in response, a playful grin on his face as he regards you carefully.

all you can do is chuckle in response, now eagerly anticipating the moment you can get your revenge.

[candyandcyberware]

Primal instincts

Aaron Hotchner x reader

You lean against a tree as you watch your boyfriend stretch his limbs with sheer determination visible on his face. It’s clear he can’t wait to start the chase, and he loves the idea of being the predator that hunts you–the prey, the precious prize–in the woods. When he notices the way you’re watching him, he flashes a smug smirk at you, as if he was silently telling you there’s no way you can get away from him. Not like you want to, though. 

This little game is something you two have been planning for a while now, a special activity he heard about at an unbelievably boring gala. Who would have thought that an event with a bunch of boring old people can be the very place where he listens to a drunk heir’s speech about playing it with his boyfriend somewhere near Seattle during a business trip there. He even went into details, telling Aaron things he honestly didn’t want to hear. 

The next day he told you the story, just for the laughs, but then he thought more about it as he watched you do mundane things around the apartment and he began to drop hints here and there, during the most casual conversations in the car, or when you were watching a movie on the couch after Jack went to bed. “You would look so good from behind when you’re trying to get rid of me, though,” he said. At first, you thought he was joking, but then a few days later another comment came as he nonchalantly said, “I want to play rough with you.”

So, you agreed, and now it’s time to play the game he prepared so carefully. Jack is staying with his aunt, which means the two of you have the whole night to play together, and he chose a location that was an hour long drive away from his apartment, so he even reserved a hotel room to stay in. But now as you’re watching him, you begin to have some doubts. Maybe you’re just nervous since you’ve never done anything like this, but what if you get hurt? You can always trip in a root or something. 

“Baby, it’s gonna be fine. It will be fun, I promise,” he says as he closes the gap between you and puts his hands on your hips to pull you against himself. 

Sometimes you wonder if he can actually read minds, because somehow he always knows what’s going on inside your head. But maybe it’s just his profiler side putting in the work every now and then to help him out. Either way, it’s equally cute and annoying, but you’re not really complaining. As you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his head down for a quick kiss, you can’t help but flash a playful smile at him. 

With his hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he looks at you with the kind of adoration you’ve barely seen since the first days of your relationship. “Are you ready?” The question is simple, but it still makes you think hard. After some time, though, you nod with a smile. “Good. I’ll give you a headstart.”

He doesn’t have to say it twice, you immediately start running into the woods, praying to whatever is out there that can protect you not to let you trip and fall flat on your face. The darkness swallows everything in the distance, you have no idea where you’re heading, but this game isn’t about thinking, this is strictly about your instincts. You need to run, that’s all you can and have to think about now. 

The chilly night air makes you shiver when you stop for a second to take a look around and listen to any sound that might tell you if Aaron is getting near, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart in your ears. You’re not even sure what it is you feel right now. Is it fear? Is it excitement? Or can it be the mixture of these two? 

Whatever it is, it’s addicting, you want to be in this state of mind forever, you love the thrill this game gives you. You might be the prey now, someone who’s supposed to escape the predator, but all you want is your boyfriend finally catching up and showing you what hides behind his ever-present self-control, what primal needs lurk in the background, waiting to have you just the way he wants. 

Your breathing finally slows down, so you begin to wonder which direction to go next. You have a GPS, you can find your way back to the car, therefore you can go anywhere you want. But as you think, you suddenly hear the sound of a twig that was stepped on, and your attention turns to the task of finding out where it’s coming from. You listen, you even hold your breath to be more quiet, but there’s nothing. He probably realized you could hear that and stopped. Or maybe it was some animal. 

“Got you!” Aaron says happily as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, keeping you close to his chest. 

You turn your head a little, only to be kissed right away, and you can’t help but turn in his arms to face him properly. Instead of kissing you again, though, he takes a few steps forward in an attempt to push you back, just until you’re caged between him and a tree. His warm brown eyes are watching your every move, paying attention to every little detail he might find important later, mostly regarding the game you’ve been playing. Did you enjoy it? Are there any signs of you liking it so much you might want to do it again some other time? 

He pulls you out of your thoughts with another kiss, a much messier, hungrier kiss that showcases how badly he wants you. That sense of urgency as he slowly slips his hand under your shirt makes you moan into his mouth, a sound that’s swallowed by him right away, and soon you can feel his hands move to your back to unclip your bra with his skilled hand. Once he’s done, he grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head along with the bra, then throws them both on the ground. 

It hurts you to see those precious items on the ground, surrounded by insects and dirt, two things you would never let them near. But Aaron took the lead, he’s the one making the rules here, and it will be his credit card that pays for the dry cleaner and the new pieces you’ll buy anyway. As a token of your gratitude, you will let him join you for lingerie shopping. He’ll see you in everything and he can make the final decision of which piece he wants to regularly take off of you. 

A jolt of electricity shoots through your body when you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder near your neck, and it’s clear that it will leave a mark eventually. Your eyes close as you focus on the way his warm, wet mouth is moving over to your collarbone in a way that makes it clear you’ll be covered in hickeys and bite marks tomorrow. 

And honestly? You will wear these marks with pride.

[wakayrd]

Colours and ISAT (spoilers ahead!)

I wanted to talk about colours and In Stars and Time today- I wanted to talk about specifically how colours work in isat and how silly goofy things could look if they could suddenly see colours. Because colour disappearing is something that happened a long time ago, there is a chance that the dye techniques have cahnged. While some things wouldn't change- such as being able to identify snow as white, who's to say the way they make fabrics and threads grey has changed slightly- because if a flower that was previously yellow and a flower that was previously blue separately make the same colour grey thread- who's to say that eventually they're used together to weave a fabric that looks like it's one shade of grey that in fact is patches of blue and yellow together? :)

So... I did a little experimenting. lol. Pardon the way everyone is drawn I was rushing so I could get to the fun part (the colouring of the clothes).

The greyscale version of the drawing is actually just the saturation turned down to 0! I took some liberties (I removed pure black and pure white from the drawing so i could play with the colours more)

If you wanna see more about how I did it (and how you could too) please read more below! teehee :)

So what I did was make a little program. teehee

Please don't mind the stylization of it, but basically you put in a number of lightness (0-255) and it creates a bunch of colours that when put at 0 saturation, produces the same grey! basically you just need to know the lightness of the grey you're going for and it should spit out a bunch of colours! You can find this out by changing to RGB and there should be one value in all three lines that are the same: in this case it's 150 and that's what you'd enter into the program!

if you want to see it, it's here! password is: stardust

I had a lot of fun talking about this; it's something that I talked about while i was streaming because I was so excited by the idea. I wonder if anyone else has thought of this!!! teehee :) If you do fiddle with this please let me know it's so fun I'd love to see what you do!