#but if i step outside of just us i see all those sentiments of positivity echoed heartlessly and it's just saddening

[dreamyintersexouppy]

i really love positivity for trans women who don't voice train or tuck or w/e like they deserve the positive attention but i always see it loudest from tme people who seem to value the mythical non-transitioning trans woman so highly and sexually that it doesn't come off as anything but fetishization, and then those same people will turn around and say trans women who do seek gender euphoria through these things are 'conforming' like i think you're the one trying to get us to conform, specifically to your fantasy of a brick that tops you and has no opinions or desires of her own

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Witte Solstice - Chapter 17

Cover art by @leespinoodle.

Fic written by me (enchantedchocolatebars) and @leespinoodle.

Summary: It's winter in the Boiling Isles, and Caleb prepares to celebrate the solstice with his wife, his friends… and hopefully, with Beardo Philip! Philip swears he'll never partake in the satanic holidays of those demonic witches. But when Caleb invites him over for the solstice… maybe he'll find himself making an exception.

Ao3 version

Enjoy!

Caleb stepped outside, bells chiming on the doorframe as he shut the door behind him. It was snowy out, but the sky was clear, and the temperature wasn't too low.

Caleb smiled and nodded.

He had picked a good day for hunting, and the snow on the ground would make tracking easier.

Philip proceeded one step at a time, his shoes crunching on the snow below.

With just a few more strides, he finally spotted a familiar figure walking outside of his small house.

"Ah, Caleb, there you are," Philip said, making his presence known as he started to approach the eldest. "I urgently need your help. I–"

Wait.

Philip's head turned left and right before he curved his lips into a frown.

"Alright, where's that witch of yours?" he asked, squinting in suspicion as he crossed both his arms.

"She's not somehow watching us, is she?"

Philip continued to stink eye the environment to ensure that he and his brother were the only ones outside.

Caleb's face lit up upon seeing Philip, but quickly fell when he realized that Philip had only stopped by because he needed something and not because he wanted to visit.

"Philip, you know Evelyn's name, so please use it. As for where she is, she's gone into town today. Now, what is it that you need?"

"There's been a peculiar occurrence at where I currently reside," Philip explained before continuing.

"An ice blockage is preventing me from entering inside. Perhaps you could figure out a way to remove it... ?"

The youngest Wittebane took a moment to look away from his brother before wrapping his arms around him.

"Please? You're the only person I can turn to for help, Caleb," he admitted quietly.

Philip's hands tightened around Caleb's clothes.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was feeling so sentimental all of a sudden.

Perhaps those two witch boys who he had observed bonding with snowballs before seeing Caleb were still fresh in his mind, reminding him of his younger years with his brother in Gravesfield.

Their time spent together, the laughter they shared, the joy they experienced when life provided them with the opportunity to do so.

Philip cherished those moments.

He truly was the little brother.

For a moment, Caleb was taken aback by Philip's behavior.

Despite Caleb always trying to reach out, things had been tense between them since they came to the Boiling Isles, and Philip initiating a hug was the last thing Caleb had expected.

Had Philip had a change of heart?

Caleb, tender-hearted as always, blinked back tears and wrapped his own arms around Philip.

"Of course I'll help. I was planning to go hunting today, but I can always spare some time for you.”

"Thank you," Philip whispered, his tone gentle as a faint glow appeared in his eyes.

He then closed them.

"Let's get going then…"

Despite Philip's statement, he sensed that he was still standing in the same position.

"Uh, Caleb…?" a confused Philip began. "I said let's go…? We can go now."

After a few seconds went by, the initial gentle expression that Philip once had quickly turned sour.

"Don't treat me like a child, that's enough hugg–" when Philip's eyes opened, he noticed his arms still wrapped around his brother.

Realizing this, he quickly let go.

"Let's… go," Philip coughed out into his elbow as he turned to lead the way, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Caleb grinned knowingly, but kept quiet.

[chxrrie-bxmb]

Hajime Hinata System Headcanons? Yes, Please!!

We headcanon Hajime as having some form of dissociative disorder given his struggles with identity, memory issues, and complete LACK of childhood backstory. Like, what was so bad about his home life that not even his PARENTS were mentioned?? At all??? Suspicious. We also generally project onto and relate to Hajime so much that at this point it'd probably be considered unhealthy /hj

A good amount of people already headcanon him as being plural because of his merge with Izuru post-game, but I wanna take it a step further. I want to give him more headmates than just Izuru, and I want to talk about what I think Izuru's role would be!

Before we get to that, lets talk about Hajime himself.

Hajime would be the system's host and most frequent fronter. In fact, he's in front so often that he needs to be physically dragged away from front when he's under too much stress or in some sort of danger. He's very uncomfortable with leaving front, especially since I can see this system not having much of an innerworld. To him, not fronting is equal to not existing at all. You can see why this puts him in a state of distress.

Hajime's experience with system discovery would certainly be... messy. He likely wouldn't make that discovery until post-game, which makes the process of healing after the tragedy insanely hard for him. How is he supposed to create his own future when he isn't even himself sometimes? How is he supposed to function with all these different identities that are just as much parts of him as he is a part of them? Will he ever have full control over his life and the future he fought so hard for? In the moment, it's all too much.

On a more positive note, I could see this being something that brings Hajime and Nagito together. While it's not near comparable, Nagito also struggles with a lack of control over himself because of his dementia and various other mental health issues. He also understands Hajime's distress in regards to his memory issues and amnesia barriers. They're both suffering in similar ways, even though the causes of that suffering are vastly different. Whether this causes them to get closer in a platonic or romantic sense, that's up to interpretation.

It takes quite some time for Hajime to get used to his headmates. At first, he resents them. He wants to be normal, he wants to have full control over his life and choices and decisions. Because of that, he ends up keeping himself fully front locked for months on end. It takes Izuru forcing his way through Hajime's walls and forcing him out for Hajime to start accepting their situation. He'll never truly accept being a system, but he'll accept the help and comfort his headmates offer him and do his best to return those sentiments when he can. He appreciates them, despite it all.

Now that that's over with, it's Izuru's turn!

As mentioned before, Izuru is the one who forces Hajime to take that very first step towards acceptance. Izuru doesn't have a set role, but he'd be best described as a mixture of protector and gatekeeper. He's the only headmate who's able to break through Hajime's front lockdowns, and is usually the one to pull Hajime out of front when need be.

Izuru's relationship with Hajime is rather complex. He feels overly protective towards Hajime, but expresses that feeling as him just doing what he needs to in order to keep the collective functional. The two engage in harmless banter more than they have genuine conversations, but they have a strangely close bond. Hajime understands Izuru better than anyone else does, and Izuru is the only member of the system Hajime will (mostly) listen to. Aside from that, Izuru doesn't have many connections or relationships with other headmates.

Outside of the system, Izuru is rather fond of Fuyuhiko and Peko. He has a sense of mutual respect for each of them, and sometimes asks Fuyuhiko to help him get through to Hajime when he won't listen to Izuru directly. While Izuru talks to Nagito, he has very mixed opinions on him. Nagito's unpredictable nature amuses him, but he also has a mild distaste for Nagito because of how much stress he unknowingly causes Hajime on occasion. Any of Hajime's other friends are simply background noise (other than Sonia, who spends time reading in the library with Izuru sometimes). Izuru isn't really interested in becoming close with all of Hajime's friends, so he mostly talks to Fuyuhiko and Nagito when he's feeling particularly social.

Time for the borderline OCs that are gonna be more headmates >:]

The first headmate I wanna talk about is the system's main protector. For the name, I'm going with Tateto (spelled 楯土). This spelling of Tateto has the meanings "shield, buckler" and "soil, earth, ground" (sourced from japanese-names.info). The reason I chose this name for him is to reference the act of protecting someone as well as being a well-grounded person who's able to help ground others.

Tateto is a masculine-presenting headmate, and helps with a lot of Hajime's various struggles in his day to day life. Hajime is having an anxiety and/or paranoia spike? Tateto is there to calm him down. Hajime is getting frustrated with something? Tateto is there to help him through it. Tateto is also the very first one to take charge if the system is in a physically dangerous situation.

Tateto is pretty well acquainted with Hajime's friends, and likes quite a few of them! He's really close with Akane in particular, and the two consider each other best friends. He's also really close with the other survivors, though him and Kazuichi don't always get along. Tateto gets along surprisingly well with Mahiru in particular, though the two don't interact very often. They respect each other, and are willing to help each other if need be.

------------------------------------------

The next headmate I want to discuss is the system's main caregiver. I'm naming her Akari (明伽里), which has the meanings "bright, clear, obvious", "companion, caregiver, helper", and "village, hometown, birthplace". These meanings connect to her bright and vibrant personality, her role as a caregiver, and the home-like feeling of comfort she brings to everyone around her.

Akari has an extremely close relationship with the other survivors, but she'd consider Mikan to be her closest relationship. A lot of the medical knowledge Akari has learned came directly from Mikan herself, after all! Mikan taught her how to do stitches, how to care for someone when they're sick, all the works.

------------------------------------------

Next up, I decided to give this system a little because of the fact that so much of Hajime's childhood is completely unspoken about in canon. It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't have much of a childhood and this headmate split to help relieve the stress of Hajime's adult life.

This little's name is Kusa, named after Hajime's favorite food! Sometimes the others will also call them Mochi! Kusa doesn't have a specified gender, as they're a little too young to grasp the concept of gender fully. Kusa is typically around 7 years old, but can slide to be as young as 4. Their agesliding is influenced by stress, meaning the more stressed out the collective is the younger they'll appear to be.

Kusa loves all of Hajime's classmates, and views them as family! Mahiru, Hiyoko, and Ibuki are especially close with Kusa, and all three of them have been dubbed "Big Sis". Kusa is also very close to Gundham, and he lets them hold the Devas when they're in an old enough headspace to do so.

(Bonus note: Kusa calls Izuru "mama" because of his long hair and motherly protectiveness of Hajime. Whenever Izuru is scolding Hajime, Kusa will often say "ooooh, mama's maaaad")

------------------------------------------

The very last headmate I'm gonna talk about is the system's trauma holder. This headmate actually doesn't have her own name, but Nagito has started calling her Chai because of her biggest comfort being chai tea. It's often hard to differenciate Chai from Hajime, especially since she only fronts after one of his episodes. Chai has an extreme attachment to memories of Chiaki, and will spend hours playing various games she liked whenever she fronts. Aside from Nagito giving her her own nickname, Chai will often break down into a panic attack if anyone else calls her a name that isn't some variation of Hajime's. Nagito was one of the first people Chai grew close to, so she trusts him far more than Hajime's other classmates.

Not much else is known about her, even by her other headmates.

[ficto-confessions]

I find it so weird and exhausting how people act like being ficto is a choice. Like if you watch reaction videos on people who talk about being in love with fictional characters, it's barely ever a positive reaction. It's all "go outside", "get fresh air", "go get a real partner". And I've heard similar sentiments from the aroace spaces too. I get it, ficto identities are currently very small and not many people know about them. But I feel like a lot of people say things like "the aromantic/asexual spectrum is completely valid! Every aroace identity is valid and should be respected!" then when a ficto person comes in all of a sudden it's 'everyone's valid and acceptable except you'. They might not use the same words, but they're just as exclusionist at times.

It's just... they don't treat ficto identities like LGBTQ labels, like it's an attraction that people can't control and are born with like ever other identity. I didn't choose to not find real people attractive, I didn't choose for my fictional crushes to not be lighthearted little jokes. I didn't choose to spend months at a time stressing and second-guessing myself because I didn't want to hear those exact words of unacceptance. I tried to like real people, I honestly did! I put a lot of thought and focus into planning for my future real partner. But at the end of the day the label caught up with me, and I ended up finally accepting that part of myself. So to go through so much struggle and then hear "go get a real partner"... it really really stings. I can't drop my fiction partners, I love them very deeply and they bring me so so much comfort and joy and make me feel so loved. And I couldn't like real people even when I tried.

I feel like I have so much more I want to say but that's basically it. Ficto stuff is usually all put under the "you can't get an irl partner so you're gonna be a basement creep who dates pictures of fake characters" stigma. And as someone who struggled with my ficto-ness a lot, it really hurts to see people acting like I can just choose to get a "real partner" anytime and acting like I'm just someone who got rejected too many times (never have, I've never even asked anyone out, I've never liked people like that). It's.. well.. a part of my identity. It's who I am. Not something I can just suddenly drop and then magically find an irl partner to be with. It's not a choice, a fad, a recuperation from rejection, or a "basement dweller" thing. It's an identity on the aro/ace spectrums that needs to be respected as much as the more well-known labels are

Yeah.

I think they're rather jealous,cuz whats nice of having an irl partner that u have to get by basically manipulating them to like u, relationships aren't forever plus they're capable of horrible things or that nowadays ppl don't even have standards in dating & just take anyone or think that being w someone w common sense is the most important trait?.. Like no shit,u wouldn't want to be w someone that hurts you & they way ppl describe dating makes me cringe since what they often describe is basically just friendship w extra steps.

And average relationship lasts for a few years, so whats the point of doing the same scenario w someone when u know it's gonna end anyways? Also irls are disgusting when it comes to anatomy & overly boring, so.

You can also count victim blaming. Cuz what if you went through abuse? According to them you're supposed to go through partners & just decide to pretend like it never happen & never give up on this vile species despite them not deserving any of it. And it goes w other types of relationships as well.

They want fictos to suffer cuz they want them to experience the unknown of not knowing how the relationship's gonna go and end. They call this shut exciting, but its more like a torture,why would u make a dumbass of urself just to get someone to like you? And especially if you socially struggle,its hard to get someone to urself and by that logic, you'd need to have zero standards if u wanted to get at least w someone.

W being ficto,you can have high standards & have thousands of different kinds of f/os. Like do u like anime characters? There are thousands of animes. Do you like cartoon characters? There are hundreds of cartoons. Or just any nonhuman characters, like in fantasy games,movies,series etc. Or just create ocs that fit your standards. You also know how they act so you know what you might be dealing w. And its not the same w irls.You get basically "same" looking millions of copies of several races or nationalities & characteristics with face structures. Are they pleasing to look at? No. Do you know what they're capable of? Also no.

Like why the hell would I change my f/os, that not only are amazing looking facewise, but they're also nice & chill to be around, or just having pleasing voices, that would never do the same damage irl ppl did/ would do to me, to a mf that might hurt me, wouldn't fit my standards & I would have zero choices in choosing? It's illogical. But I also personally never found ppl hot or something.

It's just the victim blaming and overwhelming jealousy & the desire to see others to have the same struggles in finding relationships since how dare u not to live the same way they do.

[yukidragon]

Girl, help.

I actually saw with my own two eyeballs someone trying to say that "If you, a fanfic writer, find offense in a reader commenting 'Update plz' (and nothing else) then that is a YOU problem".

And they tried to defend it by saying that readers will get tired of waiting and will move onto something else?

I am FUMING.

I bet this person has never written a single thing in their entire life outside of assignments for school.

It's those sorts of comments that make me very disheartened, especially as someone who often winds up taking prolonged breaks from my writing due to various reasons, most of them health-related.

Content creators, whether they write, draw, or make any other type of art and share it online, are already painfully aware that, in a sense, we have to compete with the entirety of the internet at all times. It often pushes us to keep producing more and more and more to our own detriment, because we're made to feel like we "owe" our fans constant entertainment... and if we don't deliver, then we're a failure. It makes us feel like if we don't constantly perform, everything we worked hard for out of love will be rendered worthless, and we'll be left forgotten.

It's not wrong for a writer to feel a little offended if the only feedback they're getting for their work is just, "Update plz." The grand majority of us aren't getting paid for our work. Our "payment" comes in the form of positive comments letting us know that we're doing a good job and that our readers are engaged with the story. If all we get are demands for more from us and nothing else, it makes us feel as though we're only seen as machines that produce content and not people, just as disposable as any AI bot out there.

Invalidating a person's feelings can be so, so damaging. We're not machines; we're human.

I can understand why some readers make those comments though. So many readers simply don't know what to say. That's why so many people wish that they could give a story multiple kudos on AO3. Words can be difficult. Leaving comments, giving replies... It took me a long time to learn how to use those words effectively and be more talkative in public settings like these.

Maybe the person who wrote that comment about writers is someone who would respond, "Update plz," to stories in the past. Maybe they were feeling defensive upon learning that their past actions were taken as a negative thing. No one likes to feel like the bad guy, after all.

People who leave those sort of comments typically mean it in a positive way. They like the work and want to see more of it. It's a nice sentiment, but sometimes good intentions can cause damage if the execution is flawed. It's not wrong for writers to gently point out a better way to give feedback that doesn't make them feel so pressured to constantly perform for little in return.

Writing is hard. Art is hard. It takes countless hours to improve at it. I've been writing stories since I was 5 and I'm 41 now. My current skill level is due to thousands upon thousands of hours of writing and self-improvement. People who get to read the end product will never see all the work that goes into making my stories. To them, it appears into existence one day like magic. This can make the art seem easy, effortless. This is why way too many artists and writers undersell their work.

That's why I go out of my way to leave positive feedback as often as I can, and thank those who do the same for me in return. It means the world to me and it reminds me why I love sharing my work with the world.

I think the person who was making those comments about writers could benefit from taking a step back and really examining why those sorts of comments are taken negatively. Maybe with a little empathy and understanding, they could better understand why what they wrote was even more offensive than the, "Update plz," comments themselves.

[cherryfairytwist]

RickFic Ch8. AstriOid Belt

(Tags: minors dni/ substance use/ stalkerish behavior)

—- HELLO —-

—- INITIATING DOWNLOAD SEQUENCE MEMORY CLUSTER #8 —-

—-PULLING UP EARLIEST ASSISTED MEMORY RECORDS —-

—- NARRATION SIMULATING NOW —-

The gang had just gotten back from an adventure, now chilling outside of the garage on the drive way next to Rick’s ship. Both Rick and Astrid stood leaning against the ship sipping on beers while Morty and Summer sat on the driveway munching on some hors d’oeuvres they had stolen from an alien party they had all crashed while adventuring. 

“Did you see the look on those bouncer’s faces when we crashed through their ship’s hull?” Summer laughed while continuing to stuff her face. 

“H-honestly I thought m-more people partying on deck would have noticed something was going on.. but I guess they w-were too drunk..?” Morty also chuckled thinking back on it. 

“T-That was some smart thinking back there Astrid. K-knocking out some those unsuspecting guests and changing into their outfits. Priceless! We got to party for free all nightttt!” Rick emphasized in amusement. 

“Well I mean.. you said we had to try and keep those bounty hunters off our tail for a while..we had already crashed so why not have some fun waiting it out?” She snickered and took another swig. 

Earth Beth poked her head out of the garage door and asked, “oh there you guys are, dinner will be ready soon do you kids want to eat? Dad….?” She looked at all of them before her eyes landed on Astrid. “Oh um.. hi! You’re their teacher’s….assistant? From school..?” She asked trying to remember Astrid’s face from in passing. 

“Hello Mrs. Smith. Yes I’m Morty and Summer’s teacher’s assistant… we’ve met before I’m pretty sure.” Astrid said politely but awkwardly. 

“I remember! I didn’t mean to make that come off weird sorry… I just didn’t want to mistake you for….” She glanced over at Rick implying she didn’t want to assume Astrid was one of Rick’s one night stands, “… anyways.. would you like to join us for dinner?” She said with an awkward smile. 

“I would love to…” she glanced at the kids and then quickly at Rick, “but it’s getting a little late. I might need to head home to start grading papers sadly.” She used an excuse feeling as if she might be over stepping her bounds. 

“Oh we understand! I hope the kids are paying attention in class for you.” Beth commented. 

“Oh Mrs. Smith you have wonderful kids. They are both extremely smart and hard working.” Astrid said positively. 

Rick started to scoff before Astrid shot him a glare. 

“Oh that’s such a relief to hear! I worry they aren’t doing so well in school.” Beth peaked over to see what commotion Rick had made. 

“See mom! We’re doing just fine. We take after you and grandpa!” Summer shouted over to her mother. 

“You’re right honey… could you come help with dinner? Oh you too Morty.” Beth asked. 

“We’ll say goodbye to Astrid real quick just in case she doesn’t come have dinner. Be inside in a second!” Summer replied before her mother turned to head back inside. 

“Thanks for covering for us like that Astrid.” Summer said with a smile. 

“I didn’t cover for anything. You and Morty are smart hard working kids. Just because you’re not making straight A’s doesn’t mean you two aren’t smart.” Astrid replied honestly. 

Summer looked down at the ground with a shy smile. 

“T-thanks Astrid.. you’re a great teacher..” Morty said awkwardly before standing up. 

“Thanks for coming on adventures with us, it’s always really fun having you around. We hope you have a good night if we don’t see ya in there.” Summer said playfully but with a hint of sentiment while turning to head inside.

“Y-yeah.. you’re awesome Astrid..! See you at school.” Morty choked out before quickly running after Summer inside. 

Astrid stood there for a few seconds just smiling and looking at the garage door. It made her really happy to know the kids liked having her around.. she also really enjoyed seeing them do so well. She then chugged the rest of her beer and looked up at the dark night sky. The thought that she was still standing alone next to Rick slapped her back to reality as she tried to sneak a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Still leaning up against the ship next to her she could feel the weight shift as he also chugged the rest of his beer. He turned his head to look down at her and then tossed his empty beer can into the garage. 

“A-Alright.” He pushed off of the ship and grabbed Astrid by the arm. 

His grip was stern but held no malice in it as he guided her around him towards the passenger seat of the space ship. Astrid looked up at him with a calm yet confused look. He ignored her face while opening the ship door, he then lightly pushed her into the seat and shut the door behind her. He then turned to go grab a pack of beers and a liquor bottle from the garage. He returned and got into the drivers seat, setting the drinks down on the floor next to her feet. Astrid felt her nerves jolt a smidge so she rummaged around in her pocket for her communicator to start playing the next song in her cue. She pulled out one of her earbuds from her pocket and put it in the ear facing the ship window. 

“So are you giving me a ride home or….?” She asked trying to cut the agonizing silence. 

“Y-yeah I guess you could say that. But first I want us to have a little chat.” He said emotionlessly while starting up the ship and pulling it up into the sky. 

Astrid felt the awkward silence hang in the air between them. She sat quietly and looked out the passenger window. The Sun and Earth started to look like marbles the farther they flew out into the solar system. She felt the temperature drop in the cabin around them, small wisps from her breath hung in the air after every silent exhale. Did she ever notice how cold it felt when they were flying in the ship before? Or was it that she had gotten used to the body heat of all four of them being in the ship at the same time? It felt like there was so much empty space between her and Sanchez. Why did it still feel like he was much too close for comfort still? Calming herself she pressed the play button, “Space Junk” by Wang Chung started to play in her ear. 

“W-what you listening to…?” He asked pointing at the device in her hand. “You should play some of t-that out loud so it isn’t so awkward in here.” He stated while handing her his equivalent of an all adapting aux cord. 

Astrid compiled and plugged it in. As the music began to play out loud she pulled her ear bud back out and put it in her pocket. She gave a curious glance at Rick, looking for any signs to pick up on, but nothing of note showed. As he started to slow the ship he motioned for her to grab him one of the beers on the floor. She pulled it out of the plastic and cracked it open for him, handing it off. He took it and started to steadily sip from it, still keeping his eyes in front of him. 

“You can have some more too obviously… you got any more of that weed?” He asked. 

“Uh yeah…” Astrid pulled out her bowl and grinder from her pocket. 

“Nice.” He said plainly. 

The silence and random songs seemed to continue for what was about only 15 minutes, but it had felt like forever. Astrid had already downed her first  two beers and taken a few hits from her bowl. Rick had tossed back three beers already as well as having taken some hits from her bowl. Finally Rick eased up the ship to a stop. The ship now silently floated adrift right outside of what looked like an asteroid belt. They sat there for a few moments silently sipping.

“So is this the part where you take the dog out back to the shed and shoot it…? And to save the kid’s feelings you tell them it ran away.” She joked cutting through the silence. 

Rick looked at her surprised and then laughed saying, “HA! No.” He smiled and then gave her a side eye, “Jesus y-you still came with me thinking that m-might have been a possibility…?” He let out a chuckle. 

Astrid didn’t reply and side eyed him curiously waiting for him to keep up the conversation. Which he did, 

“I also figured this would be a perfect opportunity for y-you to shoot me in the back of the head if you had planned on trying to kill me.” He said less amused but with a smug face eyeing her. “We are alone.” He stated. 

“Oh and you still brought me out here thinking that could be a possibility?” Astrid copied him in a mocking tone. 

They both rolled their eyes at each other and looked out their corresponding side windows. The silence hung back over them as the music continued to play. Until Rick broke the silence once more, 

“I didn’t know you could move like that… I knew you were fast but I-I had no idea you knew how to dance.” he mentioned referring to their adventure earlier that day where they had crashed the party. 

He thought back on earlier that night, impressed having seen her ballroom dance and perfectly execute other types of alien dances unfamiliar to Earth. She had moved in such a way it was simply captivating to watch. 

“You just assumed I couldn’t dance…?” She chuckled looking back at him scrunching her eyebrows playfully. 

“You’re not Human. There isn’t any way you are!” He suddenly blurted out slightly raising his voice in frustration. 

“Is that a question or are you making a statement?” She replied annoyed back. 

“Come on!” He demands letting go of the anger but a hint of frustration remained. 

“I guess you could say im not exactly from around these parts.” She tried joking in a perfect southern accent. 

He laughed and relaxed a little while rolling his eyes again, leaning off to his window side. 

“Hold on Rick. I know  it’s not like you’re going to share things about yourself with me.” She laughed. 

“That’s fucking different.” He insists. “You’ve probably already heard plenty of things about me.” A slight sting came in his voice. 

Astrid let out a sigh, “Fine… let’s play a game. We’ll call it Pinocchio because it’s like a truth and lies thing. I will answer questions if I feel like it. I’ll only show one “tell” if it’s a lie… you’ll see what I mean once we start playing.” She stated.

He arched his eyebrows and grinned curiously still leaning on his window, “Alright, I’ll bite. Let’s play.” He said shifting to lean on his knee while pointed in her direction nonchalantly. 

“How long have y-you been living on Earth..?” He cut straight to it. 

“Over all or recently?” She asked to clarify.

“Both.” He stated. 

“Well.. I’ve probably lived on Earth for a handful years.. I left but I’ve only been back for about a year now.” She shifted in her seat slightly uncomfortable but finally feeling relaxed knowing she was getting it off her chest. 

“Why are you here now?” He asked still intently eyeing her.

She replies, “sight seeing” and suddenly her nose popped out elongated a slight bit, much like the Pinocchio cartoon. 

Rick let out an amused laugh realizing she had lied. While eyeing her nose curiously, he quickly chugged another beer in entertainment. 

“W-why were you on Earth in the past?” He asked more exited. 

“For work.” She answered shortly knowing she still had to tread lightly. 

“Are you on Earth for work now..? A-And I don’t mean that “teacher” bullshit.” He said trying to skate her around using that excuse. 

“Not really….it’s complicated. But I’m “stuck” here for now.”  She paused feeling a sadness creep up on her. 

“You’re stuck..? Like crash landed?” He asked confused. 

“No.. I’m just supposed to be here for a while.” She huffed, “ I’m supposed to be on “vacation” but that’s not what it feels like.” Noticing she said a bit too much she snapped back into it. 

Shifting gears she sassily stated, “You’re running out of time!” 

Internally her heart was racing, why did she want to tell him so badly? This had never been a problem for her before with keeping secrets. 

“Jeez I didn’t know we were on a timer!” He joked and motioned for her to pass him the bowl. 

He sparked up and took a few more hits and then handed it back to her. She too hit it some and then sat it down on the dash. She looked down at the floor to see they had both drank through all the beers so she grabbed the liquor bottle of jack that Rick had brought. Astrid opened it and took a few swigs and handed it over to Rick. He took it and then looked back at her face,

“Are you human?” He asked once again wanting to hear her say it, searching her eyes for a sign. 

“Yes.” She lied with a smug grin lowering her gaze as her nose grew again humorously. 

“So what do you do? What are you?” He asked back to back trying not to chuckle. 

“You’re waisting your time.” She said sharply not looking up from packing the next bowl. 

Rick huffed and moved on, “Okay then. So you have heard of me?” He asked, not being able to help himself. 

“Yes Rick. I heard of you before I met the kids. But I didn’t think much of it, until we officially met.” She rolled her eyes and smiled knowing he was looking for an ego boost.

This relieved her knowing this one fold of his would help later if things got risky.  

“So what’s the verdict?” He asked cockily. 

“That you’re a crazy old man causing trouble.” She twirled her hair, “Definitely never a dull moment around you.” She replied with attitude. 

He laughs at her mockingly slow and leans back in his seat seeming to drop all signs of humor, “I’ll go a head and get right to what I wanted to chat about.” 

He pauses and glares right into Astrid’s eyes, “Have you been planning to hurt the kids?” 

Astrid felt as if daggers had been sent through her chest, “I’m never going to hurt your kids Rick. As for you though, that depends on how well we get along.” She quickly joked at the end in an attempt to lighten the mood but still be honest. 

“Oh yeah?! You think you can hurt me Hu…?” Rick joked already riled up a bit but calming down feeling as if she was being truthful to his questions. 

“Yeah of course. How many good years do you have left on you anyway?!” She said flirting not being able to help herself, hoping to further distance Rick from his suspicions. 

“Oh don’t you worry about that. I can stay young forever. You just haven’t seen me use my reverse age inventions.” He said crossing his arms behind his head and setting his feet up on the dash pleased with himself.

“Wait so you choose to stay looking at this age…?” She suddenly asked seriously, she couldn’t help but feel like she felt the same way but for her own human passing form. 

“Uh yeah…? What about it?” He arched his eyebrow at her confused by the change in emotion. 

“Do you do it because it just feels familiar or do you like how it looks…?” She asked almost searching for her own reason as to why she liked her default human form. 

“I-I don’t know.. I guess because it feels familiar..? I guess because I don’t like how it looks.. because it’s a reminder.. it seems natural looking to the family..?” He said searching for an explanation himself. 

He then quickly snapped out of it and wanted to know why she would ask that, “W-why do you ask? Are you age shaming me right now..?” He said pretending to be offended to cover up his actual feeling of embarrassment. 

“I don’t know! Ha! Sorry I’m just a curious person…? I mean you said you made something that can reverse your age!! So you just don’t use it that much? I mean seemed like a pretty basic question.” She laughed as well trying to cover her discomfort for the shift in the atmosphere.

Rick starts chugging some of the liquor and then slams his fist down on the dash, “f-fuck it! You wanna blow up some asteroids…?!” He said now trying to help lighten the mood. 

They sat in the ship taking turns targeting the hurdling rocks. As they both got more intoxicated they started to amp up their shared appreciation for destruction. Astrid thought about how pretty the moment was watching the ship light up after each explosion went off.  After what felt like hazy minutes of belligerent arcade like fun, Rick checked his watch and seemed to sober up a little. 

“Damn I-it’s late. I totally lost track o-of time. Sorry about that, w-we’ll head back.” He said trying to make up for taking up her evening time after she said she needed to get home.

“Ha, it’s fine. I’m glad we got t-that sorted out.” She said with a goofy buzzed smile. 

“You sure you’re not trying to kill me? Now’s your chance.” He pauses and then said, “We are alone.” In a slightly more suggestive tone. 

“I told you already Sanchez…” Astrid looked away pretending to be annoyed but catched her own eye in the window reflection feeling her face flush. 

They headed back mostly riding in silence enjoying music or commenting on random things they saw while flying. They got closer and closer until they slowed down right in front of her apartment. Rick slowly started to lower the ship but then Astrid, in her oblivious state, popped the ship door open. She hopped out and turned to say goodbye with a smile. Rick awkwardly smiles back embarrassed she didn’t wait so he could  have gotten the door for her. 

“Uh.. night Astrid.. h-have a good evening.” He said not quite knowing what to say. 

“Night Sanchez!” She said with a grin, patted the side of the ship and then turned to head towards her door. 

“Also I-I told you already! D-Don’t call me Sanchez!” he playfully joked in hopes to get her to call him that again. 

“Whatever Sanchez.” She said back jokingly, just like he had hoped. 

Once Rick was sure Astrid had made it inside, he pulled the ship up at rapid speed. He hurdled the ship past the block between her apartment and the Smith house. The radio now playing some random alien channel after Astrid had taken her communicator off the aux when leaving. He allowed himself to smile only for a moment before landing the ship and sprinting out of the door and into the garage. He punched in his secret code to the hatch door in the floor and jumped down into the upper part of his basement lab. He went to his elevator and punched the floor number for his super computer room. Once there he ran to it quickly punching in all kinds of commands and running all types of searches. His mood went from pleasant to maddening as he tried to piece together any information he could find on Astrid. Cursing and mumbling to himself as he kept playing back loops of footage he had gotten of her fighting when they had gone to rob the bank. Over and over the loop of her snatching out the fire alien’s eyes played in one corner. In another was the footage of her kicking the bug cyborg into the bank counter with incredible force. In the last corner he played the footage of her dancing that night from the party they had crashed. He watched all of them intensely while waiting for other searches to come back.  

“Of course she’s not fucking human, I mean look at this shit… but who are you..?” He muttered to himself rubbing his face in frustration. 

He mulled it over for a second and muttered, “are you a shape shifter..? Someone with Elasticity powers…? But then how are you so fucking fast and strong too…?” 

A few hours had gone by at this point and he had almost entirely sobered up by now. In his frustration he had thrown randoms items around the room while still searching for an answer. He had all the data from the hunting adventure they had gone on up on screen. He had all her school file information up, and even random footage and notes of her from previous times she had visited the Smith house. No DNA matches, no other records of her on earth previously to her starting work as a teacher’s assistant. 

“Who the hell are you Ms. Du Pont ?” Rick read her supposed last name from the school’s file. 

He sat back in his chair and pulled out his flask,

“Let’s just go ahead and find out.” He said confidently while activating the tracker he had planted on her arm when taking her to the ship earlier. 

“It’s the size of a flea so I doubt you’ll notice for quite a while.” He grinned watching her location pop up on his computer’s map. 

Rick sat looking at the tracker dot still at her apartment’s location. He took a swig from his flask and spun around in his chair lazily. After a moment of double checking, nothing else in his search had popped up. He sighed and then headed upstairs to his room for once. He turned the lights off and flopped down onto his cot. For the first time in a long while he felt like actually getting some sleep. He rolled over onto his side and opened up his watch’s screen. He sighed again knowing his computer search would take a while since not having that much information o

to go off of. He pulled up an image of Astrid’s teacher photo to look at. Rick let out one last long breath before closing his watch and eyes to sleep. 

Back at Astrid’s apartment she sat on her den floor grading papers while listening to music. Her mood had taken a turn for the better after feeling like she had made progress with Rick that evening. Her communicator buzzed as a few incoming messages popped up. She glanced down still a little tipsy from earlier. Seeing the name Reagan pop up from the notifications, she held her breath in disbelief and scrambled to open up the messages. With her eyes glued to the screen she started to read the various messages, 

“Hey Astrid” 

“Been busy at work…..”

“Sorry for ghosting you” 

“Could you come by this weekend when there isn’t anyone at the office?”

“We could catch up” 

Astrid read the massages from Reagan silently to herself. 

“Holy shit… okay.” She exhaled nervously while grabbing for her own flask she left under her coffee table. 

She sent a reply back and then laid down on the floor. 

“Here we go.” She said looking up at the ceiling now feeling exhausted. 

—- PART EIGHT COMPLETED —- 

—- SHUTTING DOWN —-

—- GOODBYE —-

[lyssiesleakedmemos]

Getting started in the industry

TW heavy topics such as Sexual abuse

Real life story

Not erotic but adult themes

Trembling, stomach in knots, only a bra and panties away from being from being completely exposed.. and even that small security blanket was going to be ripped away momentarily. "Breathe" I instructed myself. I braced for the impact of potentially the worst mistake of my life. And clicked, "Go live."

How did I get here?

It feels like a lifetime ago, only taking my first steps of adulthood, already weighed down with the pressure of coming up with a plan. I didn't have money for college, doubted every skill I had, and was recently taken off the medications that may have been the push I needed to be a whole lot more productive job hunting. I had been a legal adult for nearly a year, I was "running out of time." A sentiment I can't even wrap my head around today.

Hurry hurry hurry.

While panicked about my entire future prospects, I did manage to find time to embrace the new freedom and independence that suddenly felt abundant. My upbringing was certainly not strict but days and nights of making my own choices without so much as asking permission was a fucking rush. Party after party. Run from the cops. Repeat.

But it wasn't until the relationship that consumed my life the 4 years prior came to an end that I truly felt the world open up in front of me. Despite adoration from our peers who only saw the best of us and despite my limited experience convincing me that this must just be how some men are.. the truth is I was lying with a monster. It took time to see it for what it was sexual and emotional abuse. But even then, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders leaving. No longer would I be under his control, no longer would my body be close enough for him to touch after repeated pushing him away, no longer would I be the person he came to with his sick confessions of disturbing crimes he'd committed or sought to commit like a burden he gladly gifted me and he'd never have the opportunity to ignore my pleas or break the promise of "I'll never do that to you again."

With the heaviest of shackles broken, everything I CHOSE to do became liberating and quickly that became exploring sexuality on my terms. I started dating Walter, who, for all his flaws, wasn't a monster and was actually quite supportive of exploration and seemed like he was on a journey of his own. More on him later.. but when I came to him with the crazy idea to start Webcam modeling, he not only encouraged me, but he offered up his house as a work space.

I wrestled with the idea for awhile, likely made a pros and cons list if I know myself

Pro: Exciting

Con: Scary

In no time, my account was set up, and I was hyperventilating at my laptop. The first account I used was sketchy, one of those where you had a "manager" who would call you and demand you stream more (which for the record I thought was completely normal). This guy was a character, vulgar, crass, and unprofessional, even for such a profession at the time. He'd come into my streams and beg for free shows or call me and complain about other streamers. It was only a minor bump in the road, and it took no time to get comfortable performing, especially when I made the switch to a different platform. I think I even liked it.. for a job. My days were never short of interesting. My stories were plentiful, and i always felt connected to a world outside of my day to day life. Even the idea of being an adult performer gave me a sense of pride that I think most people in those days couldn't understand.. hell, if modern-day reception to OF girls is any indication, I'd say many still don't. Countless times, I found myself defending my choices in this era, something that may sound like a waste of time but went positively more than you'd expect. The truth is, regardless of your own preferences, most people can't argue with someone doing what they want to do because we all more or less fear losing the freedom to do so ourselves.

Now, the industry has been a part of my life off and on for over a decade, and I can honestly say I get that it's hard to get. There have been moments where I reflect on how much time I've spent solely catering to the male gaze or questioning the line between liberation and objectifican. It's not a simple equation, but I think I learned what the answer is for me.

Walking through life, especially as a female, means guaranteed objectification, leering men and societal pressure to look fuckable. Before ever signing a contract, making a cent or making a CHOICE, someone I was meant to trust took something from me.. so believe me when I say that when people use the menu I've provided for a mutually beneficial service, that difference is clear. Not to mention the power of the freedom to decline and, of course, the block button.

This expectation exists that trauma should make you cower from sexuality moving forward, and sometimes that's what we have to do, but in the end, I gave myself the gift of reclaiming someone that was always mine. I am every bit as sex positive and open as what some might interpret as a marketing scheme, I have built myself a life that allows me me to explore that as one big exhibition.

Someone somewhere is rejoicing in the stroking of their confirmation bias because I followed the often assumed trajectory of Trauma -> Sex work. I used to dispute the comparison because I knew many examples that weren't that case as I met other creators, but rather, the more important point is who does the fault than lie on? To say "this" is a product of "that" is to blame "that" and not "this." You've agreed the problem is abusers and I think that's a good place to start the conversation at least.

I don't regret stepping foot into this industry. Retroactively, I would have told my younger self to wait, learn, and heal more first, but I think I would have always ended up here. Despite everything that more directly brought me here, I'm at my core an entertainer, and if their is a stage, I was going to find it.. who knew it would be a mattress?

[theengguy]

Demonic Pursuit: A Chaotic Escape

Just another ordinary day unfolded before us. My closest companion, the person I'm engaged to, and I decided to take a leisurely walk outside the bustling city. Out of nowhere, my fiancé nudged me and pointed, "Hey, do you catch that? Over there, some guy's hanging around, giving us this big creepy grin."

I glanced in the direction he indicated, reassuringly chiming in, "Hey, don't sweat it, Fiancé. Probably just some stranger goofing around. What harm could they possibly stir up, especially with you by my side you hunky man of you?" As I spoke, I sealed the sentiment with a gentle peck on his cheek. Time ticked on, but it became evident that the man hadn't budged an inch; he stood there, still fixed on us, that same peculiar expression plastered on his face.

I narrowed my eyes, mimicking the expression of a senior with failing sight attempting to make out the finer details. I squinted at the guy, my mind racing to identify if there was any familiarity in that face. And then it hit me, like a bolt out of the blue, "Hold on a sec, could that be Logan Paul?"

His eyebrow raised, "who the hell is Logan Paul?" I shrugged, "I dunno Jake Paul, either, but I think they're the same person."

Suddenly Logan started sprinting to us with something in his hands. "HEY GUYS DID YOU HEARED ABOUT PRIME HYDRATE?!?!?!?!?!" he said in a eccentric way with a big grin in his face while shoving that bottle in our face.

It only took my fiance two sword swipes to take down the man lunging toward us, bringing a smile to our bloodied faces.

The moment we turned around to keep doing what we previously planned, when he suddenly jumped up again placing his head on my shoulders and telling me in a breathy and heavy way "We even have now Prime Energy that will give you the extra kick into the start." I couldn't move its like my whole body is in a sudden state of fear. When I thought to myself "What is going on? Whats this guys problem!!"

With no viable options left, my fiance's sword flashed again as he impaled our assailant. He was then dragged to a nearby tree, where the sword was plunged through as well. "Oh good, he's been impaled." We called for guards with rope and, like, a ton of knives, and stuck those in for good measure (and for stress relief).

When we finally breathed a sigh of relief to end this horrible situation once and for all, something unexpected occurred as we were about to step back into the city. "Oh no, my dearest Fiancé, this is an earthquake! Please hold me tight." I exclaimed in a dreamy voice, leaping into his arms. He replied with a smile my attempt to hug him. However, what we didn't know was that this wasn't a normal earthquake – it was the impaled Logan Paul, screaming in agony and despair. His voice grew more and more demonic as he became larger, grabbing some of the guards and devouring them. As he tossed the guards into his mouth, all we could hear were their screams echoing from the bottomless pit that was his stomach.Locking his gaze onto us, I moved closer to my fiancé in fear, hoping he could protect me. Logan advanced toward us, his gigantic head looming, and he spoke in a demonic voice, "Prime costs only $9.99 and is available in all local stores in North America and the UK." Trembling in fear, we fell to the ground on our rear ends.

Rear ends now in a defensive position, I shakily held my hand up. "C-can I hold the bottle? I'd like to see for myself." Jake or whatever grinned a wicked grin, placing the bottle in my hand. I began twisting off the cap, and my fiance looked at me in horror. "Dearest, no," he whispered. "You don't have to do this." He had placed his hand on top of the bottle, eyes pleading. "Cap?" I shook my head, "no cap." Tears sparkled in his eyes, "Frfr?" I nodded, "Ong." I winked both eyes at the same time to make him double sure that I was alright. I looked the beastly demon in front of me, new-found resolve in my soul, as I poured the drink directly into the dry soil below. I grabbed my partner's hand. "Run."

The moment we started running, the beast jumped up in the air and screamed in a hateful manner, "MY NAME IS NOT JAKE, BUT LOGAN!" We both ran into the city, hoping to hide there and that the town guards could deal with it. We somehow managed to outrun the beast as it continued screaming that its name is Logan. After a few minutes, my fiancé and I reached the city gates and begged the guard there to close them because there was a terrible beast in front of the city. After a while of begging, and oddly enough, the guard demanded that he could cuddle with my fiancé for a few minutes. He then ordered to close the gate. Just as the gate was closing, we heard the demon Logan running on all fours toward the gate, screaming in a demonic and horrible way, "CONSUME, PIGGIES, CONSUME, AND LET CAPITALISM DESTROY YOUR FUTURE." When he reached the gate, there was suddenly silence. However, a moment later, an aggressive knocking on the door began. It was so loud and terrifying that we all recoiled in fear. The knocking grew louder and more aggressive, the kind of intensity only a demon could create. "Shit, what are we gonna do?" the guard screamed in fear. "We need to alert the Queen so they can save her. Yes, that's the right way. You two try to hide somewhere while we try to hold it back as long as we can," he said to us, even giving my fiancé another kiss on the lips, which was oddly peculiar. I looked at my fiancé with a weirded out look and asked him why the hell he had even embraced it, and he just shrugged it off.

The two of you huddled close together, several barrels and boxes hiding your shaking frames. "Darling, I'm frightened. Frightened by Logake... Jagon?...Paul??... I don't fucking know, it's the same guy, so it really doesn't matter... wait... what was I talking about?" Your fiancé looked back at you with empty eyes, "What? I wasn't really listening, I was wondering what to have for dinner." "...I don't think this is the time for that." My face hid nothing of my confusion. "What do you mean?" He tilted his head. "We have a lot of uninterrupted time right now. We keep having meatloaf I've noticed. Like, I don't mind meatloaf, but it's been every week lately." Your jaw dropped. "Well that's news to me! What, were you just going to pretend for the rest of your life?? I thought you loved meatloaf?! I don't know who you ARE anymore!!" Your voice echoed throughout the room, sealing your fates. Claws raked against the door of the left side of the room, as the previous guard burst through the right door. "Thank god I got here in time! We must hurry!" The guard waved us over, but I shook my head. "My good sir... I must ask you to take on a horrible task." The guard's eyes widened, an audible gulp rising from his throat. "You must sacrifice yourself for the good of this country. For my safety." The guard stared at me, appalled. "The fuck?Jakaul is going to keep relentlessly making me drink that shitty, overpriced drink for the rest of my life! Why the hell would I do that?!" "I'll give you this meatloaf-hating asshole of a fiancé," your tone was flat, but your offer was firm. "BET." And with that, the guard launched into my ex's lap, and they got comfortable as the last of the door was being raked down. I ran through the right door, thankful to get rid of 3 weirdos in one transaction.

As I stepped out of the door, my heart raced with a mixture of fear and determination. I could hear the sounds of chaos behind me as the guard and my now ex-fiancé dealt with the monstrous demon Logan Paul and his Prime Hydration. But for now, my focus was on escaping this nightmare and finding a way to end this madness once and for all.

As I walked through the city streets, my mind was racing with thoughts of what had just transpired. I couldn't believe the bizarre sequence of events that had led me to this point. The encounter with Logan Paul, the demon transformation, and the desperate escape with finding out that my fiancé was gay for the guard – it was like something out of a surreal nightmare.

As I wandered through the city for a few hours, I found myself drawn to a quieter part of town. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the cobblestone streets of this town. My heart was still pounding from the adrenaline, but a sense of calm started to wash over me. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts and process everything that had happened.

Lost in my contemplation, I suddenly heard a gentle voice from behind me. "Are you alright?" I turned to see a woman standing there, her greenish-hazel eyes filled with concern. She had a warm and caring aura about her that was both comforting and familiar.

I took a deep breath, my voice shaky as I replied, "I... I think so. It's been a strange day." She gave me a reassuring smile, stepping closer. "I understand. Sometimes life has a way of throwing us into the unexpected." Her words resonated with me, and I couldn't help but feel a connection to her.

Ana's appearance had a timeless elegance to it, her white hair cascading around her are like a waterfall of wisdom. The lines on her face told stories of a life well-lived. Despite her age, her eyes held a youthful spark that was both captivating and reassuring. I could easily forget myself in them.

"I'm Ana Amari," she finally said, extending her hand toward me. "And you are?"

I hesitated for a moment, then took her hand in mine. "I-I'm Dearest. N-Nice to meet you, A-Ana." Our hands lingered for a brief moment longer than necessary, and I felt a strange sensation in my chest.Ana's smile widened, and she gestured toward a nearby bench. "Would you like to sit and talk for a while?" I nodded, grateful for the opportunity to share my experiences with someone who seemed genuinely caring.As we sat down, Ana listened intently as I recounted the events of the day. I could see a mix of sympathy and understanding in her eyes as I spoke about the strange encounter with Logan and the chaos that had followed. Her hand reached out to gently rest on mine, a gesture of comfort that sent shivers down my spine.

"It sounds like you've been through quite an ordeal," Ana said softly. "But you're safe now." Her words had a soothing effect on me, and I found myself opening up to her in a way I hadn't expected. As the evening sky turned into a canvas of soft pastel like hues, our conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about life, our experiences, and our hopes for the future. I learned more about Ana's strong sense of responsibility, her caring nature, and her unyielding belief in protecting loved ones.

Ana's stories were filled with a ton of wisdom and insight of a well lived live, and she spoke about her daughter, Pharah, with a mixture of pride and fondness. "My daughter has always been a source of inspiration for me," she said, her eyes glistening with emotion. "I've always hoped that she would follow in my footsteps, albeit in a more peaceful way."

As the night grew darker, Ana looked at me with a soft smile. "You know, sometimes the most unexpected situations can lead to the most meaningful connections, Dearest." Her words resonated with me, and I found myself leaning in slightly, our faces now just inches apart.

Suddenly in that moment, time seemed to slow down for me as our lips met in a gentle and tender kiss. The sensation was electric, sending a tingling warmth through my entire body. As our lips melded together, I felt the soft press of Ana's fingers against my cheek, her touch gentle yet firm, as if she was savoring the moment as much as I was.

The kiss deepened, our mouths moving in a slow and synchronized way. Ana's other hand found its way to my hips, her touch sending shivers down my spine. Our bodies pressed closer, and I could feel the steady thump of her heart against mine, a reassuring rhythm that echoed in the silence between our breaths.

As we continued to kiss, the connection between us grew stronger, as our bodies instinctively gravitating towards one another. Ana's lips traced a path down my jawline, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that sent a rush of warmth to my cheeks. Her hands explored my form with a tenderness that only comes from a lifetime of experience, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

When we finally pulled away from that session, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. I could see the desire and affection in Ana's eyes, a reflection of the emotions swirling within me. As her fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, I couldn't help but lean into her touch, craving the closeness that had blossomed between us.

Ana's smile was a mixture of contentment and anticipation, a silent promise of what was to come. "I'm glad we met." she whispered, her voice carrying a depth of emotion that resonated within me. And then, as if unable to resist the pull any longer, our lips met again in a passionate embrace, a silent affirmation of the connection we had forged.

Our bodies molded together, the warmth of Ana's embrace melting away any lingering traces of fear or uncertainty. Her hands traced the contours of my body with a reverence that sent my heart racing, her touch igniting a fire that I had never experienced before. Each caress, each brush of our bodies, felt like an unspoken promise of the intimacy that was building between us.

As the night grew darker around us, our bodies found solace in each other's arms. Ana's aged body carried a wisdom that was palpable in every touch, every whispered word of affection. And as we held each other close, I felt a sense of completeness that I had never known before, as if all the chaos and uncertainty had led me to this very moment.

Hand in hand, we walked back through the city streets, our hearts intertwined in a way that felt both exhilarating and comforting. The journey ahead was uncertain, but with Ana by my side, I knew that I had found someone who would be there to protect, care for, and love me – just as she had always hoped for her loved ones. After a while of spending time more time together with Ana we decided to offically start our relationship. Everything works perfectly and I really hope that she will one day make me her wife.

The End.

[tornad001]

yeah fine i Guess u can take care of urself (if ur WEAK or something) but u better not talk about it on the "talk-about-your-mental-health" website. better not publicly discuss internet hygiene, or u might upset the ppl who aren't doing proper internet hygiene - their lack of internet hygiene makes them jumpy and defensive

legit tho, 95% of the time i hear this sentiment it's from the people most brazenly and obviously harming themselves with empathy. ur not some special kind of person for being upset, that just makes u not an unfeeling monster. however ur inability to understand urself as someone who MUST continue to exist and live and thrive regardless of what's going on in the world outside ur sphere of influence is concerning (or even within it tbh, tho this is understandably more difficult to negotiate)

our lifetimes r gonna suck. we're gonna see some of the most revolutionary technologies created and hoarded for the benefit of the bourgeoisie. we're gonna see climate wars and crises and refugees and scientists r estimating at least 1 BILLION humans will die from completely manufactured issues that our governments chose not to address or plan contingencies for back when there was time to do so. and in the imperial core, we'll be better off than basically everyone else, and it won't be our fault. the world is gonna be full of blood and misery and each and every one of us, privileged or not, is gonna have to live their lives seeing this shit happen from afar, from a position of safety. even the dispossessed will be overrun with news of all the people out there who're dispossessed Even Worse. those who're only refugees and not being conscripted into the war they're fleeing, those who only lost their house to a natural disaster but not their lives, etc. we're gonna have to let go of the self-judgement and the survivor's guilt if any of us are gonna stand a chance of making it through this life happily

and if anyone ever tells u it's wrong to feel happy when terrible things r happening? fuck them, they don't understand yet, but hopefully they will. wait until they're having a happy moment watching something or video-calling a loved one and ask them which slaves their technology was built by. much as we might like, being upset and horrified isn't a constitutively viable option for living, but neither is not caring. u have to acknowledge the horrors and feel your feelings and let them motivate u to action without letting them overwhelm u. someday you'll be handling some new horror well yourself and some fucked up freak is gonna rant at you about how u don't actually care cuz if u did you'd also be debilitatingly upset. and i only hope when that time comes, you don't take it to heart and are able to handle it with the compassion and understanding of someone who really gets their pain and how they're suffering. and sometimes you'll be that asshole that's really struggling with news of the latest 14 massacres/famines/etc. and as a result u find urself lashing out at people who're handling it more healthily. and there i can only hope you're dealing with someone who's likewise compassionate and understanding of ur pain, even as you fail to understand theirs.

life is hard and ugly and it's only gonna get uglier over our lives. it's actually good and healthy to discuss compassion fatigue and ur need to take a step back. because its a skill we're all deficient in, especially given how much we're gonna need it in our lifetimes. feel your pain, be unreasonable with it if that's what it takes. but try to understand that people talking about compassion fatigue DO care. they wouldn't be fatigued if they didn't, and your getting upset at them for taking care of themselves only serves to highlight the degree to which you're failing to care for yourself. the point of taking a break is to facilitate caring in a more productive fashion (or at least a less self-destructive one). in order to keep caring forever, caring has to be a sustainable act. if u let it break u down, you'll just stop caring

Stop making a huge spectacle of having to take a step back from tumblr because of "compassion fatigue" or for your own mental health. Just keep your mouth shut and do what you need to do. Stop expecting people to pat you on the back and tell you to take care of yourself. Realize you have the luxury, the fucking privilege to be able to turn your eyes away from an ongoing genocide.

Meanwhile, people who are facing genocide don't have that luxury. Every day they lose loved ones, face death, starvation, illness, displacement. And you expect people to give a shit about your mental health? You expect people to trigger tag for you? Grow a spine. People are DYING. No one cares about your "compassion fatigue". Just keep quiet if you MUST look away.

[jokertrap-ran]

[スタオケ] La Corda d'Oro Starlight Orchestra Mikado Ukiha Cast Story Chapter 7 Translation

*Starlight Orchestra Masterlist | Mikado Ukiha’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Mikado's Route Tag will be #Ukiha’s Star

Postman: Are you the new housekeeper? Here's the mail.

I was entrusted with the mail.

It was addressed to “Mikado Ukiha”, and the sender went by the name of “Takasaki”. 

Ukiha: Sorry to keep you waiting.

Ukiha: Oh, is that a letter? How rude of them to have treated a guest as a servant…

Ukiha: …!

▷Choice: Is there something wrong with the letter?

Ukiha: No, it is nothing… Ukiha: Come on, let us head inside. We will only catch a cold by standing around and talking outside.

Ukiha: Here, please have some tea. Are you not tired of having to practice daily by holding streetside performances for days on end?

Ukiha: Hehe, you're alright because eating sweet stuff has helped rejuvenate you?

Ukiha: Good thing I prepared manjus then. Please, feel free to take another.

▷Choice: Are you not tired?

Ukiha: Thank you for your concern, but I am fine.

▷Choice: You need the sugar more than I do

Ukiha: Oh, do I look that tired to you?

Ukiha: It is much more satisfying to watch you eat them, so please feel free to indulge yourself.

Ukiha: It will be the opening performance soon…

Ukiha: There is not much time left. After all, time flies when you're having fun.

Ukiha: Especially so during practice sessions and live performances. Let us cherish each and every moment now, and welcome the upcoming performance with positivity.

Ukiha: “It will definitely be a success”, you say?

Ukiha: Haha, you are always so positive. Seeing you that upbeat cheers me up too.

▷Choice: You'll soon be one of us in due time, Mikado…

Ukiha: Perhaps the day will come when I can finally step foot into the esteemed Magnolia Hall that I have heard so much about.

Ukiha: I have heard rumors of there being graffiti left by seniors of the past as well.

Ukiha: I am sure it is a wonderful building where you can feel the tangible history of the Starlight Orchestra.

Ukiha: I can write something too if I want?

Ukiha: Hehe, whatever shall I do? I am honored, but what should I write…

▷Choice: How about Japanese poetry?

Ukiha: Haha, that sounds good. How about a love poem then?

▷Choice: Maybe something like “Mikado Ukiha is here!”

Ukiha: You often see graffiti like that in tourist spots. Ukiha: I have always frowned at it, but who knew that it would finally be my turn to do something like that one day. Ukiha: But simply writing my name is pretty lackluster. Hmm… Perhaps I should write a love poem.

Ukiha: There are many such poems in the Manyoshu and the Hyakunin Isshu.

Ukiha: It is pretty nice to be able to carve words of my own amidst the passionate words that my predecessors have left behind.

▷Choice: How romantic

Ukiha: I am glad that you approve. Ukiha: However, rather than borrowing the words of my predecessors, I will have to compose my own poem to meet those expectations.

▷Choice: To whom are those feelings directed to?

Ukiha: Curious, are you? Ukiha: For now… I suppose we can say that it is my love for music.

Ukiha: Though, is it really alright to carve such frivolous sentiments onto such a sacred music institution? I feel like I am letting my seniors down in doing so…

Ukiha: …Hehe. But still, it is fun just thinking about the many possibilities.

Ukiha: What would you write, if you were in my shoes? Do share. 

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Ukiha: We have been talking at such length that it looks like time has escaped us. Allow me to call a taxi to take you back to the hotel.

As I walked down the corridor facing the garden, I heard the faint sound of a piano being played.

Ukiha: Is something the matter, (L/n)-san? The exit is this way.

Ukiha: …Huh? The sound of a piano?

Ukiha: Oh, we had the piano tuner come by today to tune the secluded piano.

Ukiha: That being said, however… We can tune it all we want, but I doubt anyone would play in either way.

Ukiha: In the past, I used to often bother my father to play the piano in that room.

Ukiha: It was foolish, really. To play that song, of all things… Anyway, come, let us move on.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Ukiha: …

Ukiha: (The Starlight Orchestra is a beautiful dream filled with hope and joy.)

Ukiha: (However, I cannot throw myself into something as uncertain as a dream…)

Ukiha: (I may not be able to join you, but I will still pray for you. I pray that you will attain that bright and dazzling dream of yours…)

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

A few days later, the concert being held at the Kyoto Art Concert Hall ended with a great success.

And at the end of that performance—

Mikado withdrew from the Starlight Orchestra…

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬Ukiha’s Star♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Previous Part: (Chapter 6) Next Part: (Chapter 8)

[scaranation]

༊*·˚ 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

Pairing: Alhaitham x GN!reader

Content: Modern AU, childhood friends, mildly suggestive

In which you reunite with Alhaitham, the nerdy scruffy kid you’d used to tease in middle school - except now, he is neither awkward, nor quite as small as he used to be.

“Are you coming to the reunion?” Your friend’s voice over the phone was excited, almost imploring.

“I’m not sure, should I?” You were sprawled across your bed languidly, phone tucked into your shoulder and laptop balanced precariously over your knees.

“Yes, please! I heard even Alhaitham’s coming to this one!”

“… Alhaitham?” You paused your typing for a moment to readjust your position.

“You two were assigned seats next to each other throughout middle school, weren’t you? I remember you always complained about it.”

“Oh, yes.”

“You should really come and see him. I’ve heard he’s now a prolific researcher. And Nilou finally got into the dance academy she wanted as well - oh, just turn up! It’ll be fun to meet our class again.”

“Ah, I’ll make an effort to come.” You replied, hanging up, although your mind was elsewhere. Alhaitham… That was a name you hadn’t heard in a long time.

You’d been distraught when you were forcibly separated from your friends by the woes of a middle school seating arrangement. Even more so when you realised that your desk partner was none other than Alhaitham, the hilariously awkward nerd who seemed to be physically attached to a book at all times. He was a scrawny kid - shorter than you at the time, hence the fond memories you had making fun of his height and mockingly peering down at him.

Coincidentally, the two of you had been forced to sit together for many classes over the next few years - leading to a casual sort of friendship. Or, that’s what you saw it as. You loved to tease Alhaitham, watching in glee as his neck and ears turned red. Looking back, he probably despised you now - you were quite mean back to him back then, taking advantage of the fact that he had a crush on you. Occasionally, the two of you would hang out outside of school, and although there was no dismissing how difficult it was to hold conversation with the boy, you grew to become fond of those times. Fond, to a certain extent.

Perhaps it was your own denial, but you preferred to remember it that way - merely sentimental fondness for pleasant times between friends.

In high school, you had decided to pursue humanities, whilst Alhaitham had gone down a different route. And so, the two of you inevitably grew apart, with you never rarely ever seeing him again. You were simply too busy - following your devious shenanigans in middle school, you’d decided to turn over a new leaf and engross yourself in academics to compensate for your former rowdiness.

-

On the day of the reunion, you were late. At least twenty minutes late, for sure - and that was if you could even get your car started. Drowning in student loans, you’d only managed to buy a third hand car that barely clung to life, and you were now suffering the consequences of its senile engine.

“Fuck!” After turning your key in the ignition again in exasperation, you got out of the vehicle in defeat, slamming the door shut and resorting to calling a taxi.

Fuming, you left your apartment block and waited out on the street, a frown fixed across your face. That frown was only further perpetuated when the most obnoxiously high end vehicle swerved, wheels skidding through a puddle and spraying you in filthy city water.

Almost too stunned to move, you glared into the heavily tinted car windows as the vehicle slowed to a stop by the curb. The driver’s side door opened, and a man stepped out.

Broad shoulders, ridiculously tall, muscular build and a tight fitting dress shirt… You craned your neck upwards, and almost recoiled.

“Alhaitham?!” You stumbled back.

“So you’re done staring at my pecs?” The former victim of your relentless bullying bent down mockingly to be eye to eye with you, a smirk decorating his face.

“They were right at eye level! Fuck, it’s not my fault you got tall.” You recovered from the shock quickly, remembering that you were furious at the man once again.

Alhaitham had definitely changed. His jawline was stronger now, and his gaze was different - the awkward tenacity of his preteen years was replaced with cut calculation, cold despite the playful gleam that occupied them. Catching yourself gawking again, you defaulted back to your scowl.

“You got me wet.” You accused.

“Oh, did I?” Alhaitham quirked a brow, grinning suggestively.

“Not in that way.”

“Do you want it in that way?”

“Stop trying to change the topic. The issue is, I’m soaked through with puddle water and about half an hour late to the reunion.” You snapped. Oh, how the tables had turned - now you were the one being teased, your face flushed and your fists clenched by your side.

“Alright, I get it. I apologise. Do you want my coat?” Alhaitham shrugged, looking down at you now in concern.

“Yes.”

“And a lift to the reunion as well, I assume?”

Archons, how much you hated him in that moment. His wry, mocking smile was back - although you were grateful for the warmth that now settled across your shoulders from his coat. Begrudgingly, you agreed, and Alhaitham ushered you into the passenger seat.

“Careful, watch your head. Don’t want you hitting it on the roof, because you’re just so much taller than me, aren’t you?” The man chuckled from behind you.

“Shut up, it was ten years ago.” You retorted, only to be met with another condescending laugh as he buckled your seatbelt for you. Alhaitham then climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine smoothly before pulling away from the curb - only pausing for a moment to shoot you a smug smile.

-

The reunion was pleasant, albeit mundane. Much to your annoyance, Alhaitham was the centre of attention - the gleaming golden child who’d had a glow up and dominated whatever lame industry he’d decided to get into. Despite this, he was remarkably different around others. A stoic expression was settled on his handsome features as he mostly kept conversations short and blunt, refusing alcohol.

You, on the other hand, had lost count of your glasses, relishing in the feel of liquor searing down your throat whilst you brooded from your seat next to Alhaitham.

“Alhaithaaam, why don’t you have a drink? You’re… no fun…” You mumbled, pushing your glass against his lips as you rested your head on his shoulder. It was warm, and broad - how pleasant it would be, to just rest on it.

“I have to drive you home, remember? Speaking of which, you should stop drinking now. It’s not healthy.” Alhaitham pushed your hand away, although he kept hold of your wrist to prevent you from pouring another glass.

“Just one more drink…” You whined, frowning and slamming your free hand over Alhaitham’s mouth upon sensing he was about to spew some medical fact about the effect of alcohol on the body. That was one thing that hadn’t changed about him.

“Alright, time to go. It was pleasant meeting everyone.” Alhaitham pursed his lips, pulling your hands away and tucking his arms under your shoulders to hoist you up.

“Nooo, I don’t wanna…” You flailed, vaguely making out the mirthful expressions of your former classmates before Alhaitham grabbed your legs and carried you out of the restaurant bridal style.

“Put me down!” You hit at his chest, which probably did more damage to your hands than it did to him, and kicked your legs to no avail.

“Shh, you’ll thank me for this in the morning.” Gently, you were set down in the passenger seat - hearing the click of the seatbelt buckle and the clink of the door shutting. Alhaitham readjusted his jacket around your form so that it covered you like a blanket, sighing and turning his attention to the road.

“Mm…. Do you have any wipes?” You rifled through Alhaitham’s glove box, before your fingers brushed over something. Pulling it out, you realised it was an old photo of you and him standing outside the school gates. A wide grin was spread across your face, one arm propped up on his head, a vastly less amused expression occupying his smaller features.

“Alhaithaam, what’s thiiis?” You snorted, delighting in the way Alhaitham’s adam’s apple bobbed at seeing the photo clutched in your hand. Finally, he’d broken his infuriating demeanour - even if it was only for a second. You decided to prod it further to get more of a reaction.

“Hmm… Maybe… You stiiill have a crush on me?” You smirked, although you put little thought into your words. There was no way the stoic, cold Alhaitham could maintain his former-

The car stopped with more force than necessary at the immediate red light. You weren’t sure if it was the reflection of those lights, but Alhaitham’s face appeared flushed. His hands gripped the steering wheel to the point where his knuckles turned white, eyes fixed on the road with searing intensity.

Oh?

“No waaay.” You turned to Alhaitham incredulously. Perhaps it was the liquor. The alcohol churning in your veins. After all, what other explanation could there be for your racing heart?

And, more importantly, did his heart race like yours?

The answer was in the abrupt stop of the car by the side of the road. In the cold, lithe fingers holding your chin. In the push of Alhaitham’s lips against yours, tasting like sweet mint. The answer, breathless, was muttered by your childhood friend as he finally pulled away.

“So what if I do?” Alhaitham’s voice was barely more than a whisper, his face close enough to the point you could feel his breath. His eyes were so beautiful, opulent green flecked with glowing amber. They searched yours desperately for a reply, for reciprocity.

You were confused. Drunk, both on alcohol and the taste of Alhaitham’s lips. So many feelings gushed around your head like the liquor you’d drunk earlier, sloshing nonsensically. As if to deflect the restlessness of your own heart, you leaned in again for another kiss - for that was the only certain reciprocation you could give.

And under the streetlight, amidst flushed cheeks and wandering hands, you found the Alhaitham you’d known from middle school again. The Alhaitham that blushed at your words, and shot you yearning looks. Chuckling between shallow breaths, you cupped his cheeks in your hands - smiling at the familiar face of the boy you’d loved.

[cdroloisms]

honestly, i think some of the problems plaguing current dreblr is because of the lack of meaningful disagreement, the more i think about it? dreblr has always had some problems about being conflict averse, truth be told, but when the greater fandom was more active a lot of conflict invited itself to our door anyway. at the same time, though, i think there was a sort of sentiment that evolved that because we were the only ones "in our corner," so to speak, we should agree with each other as much as possible and limit infighting. and i mean, to be clear, infighting kind of sucks. but disagreeing about analysis shouldn't be considering infighting, and for the meta scene to like, exist, we have to have room to actually debate, yknow?

like, when i see takes i dont agree with, i want to comment my thoughts ... mostly bc i am the fucking yapper LOL. i love talking about this server and c!dream and when im posting about them it's largely bc i just, want to talk abt the dsmp and c!dream. that being said, i also don't want to step on toes, which i think has prevented me more than few times from posting the meta i want to write, which is another symptom of the problem i feel?

outside of dreblr being a place for a more /pos reading of c!dream, there isn't any other "required" consensus (the "c!dream /pos" requirement only existing bc that's the point of dreblr, lmao, not that every dsmp fan ever has to be c!dream positive) -- but i think there's a sort of social pressure both bc of the history of this fandom and bc of how certain bloggers may be perceived that makes people feel like there's a "correct" way to think about c!dream on dreblr, and that the more everyone here agrees the better. and honestly i think this has a ripple effect that kinda sucks for everyone, across the board -- definitely for newer fans, who don't feel like they can post anything when it's not "in agreement" with the consensus, but also for those who get kind of seen as 'authorities', who then feel like they have to watch what they say lest people react badly about them having a differing opinion.

i do think that personally, i also prefer direct debate -- mostly bc i, once again, am the yapper, and will take any excuse to dump thoughts about c!dream anywhere, and other people's arguments are thought provoking and often inspire thoughts of my own so i generally would like to see them! that being said, i also completely understand why vagueing happens and why people prefer to do it; a lot of people feel much more comfortable about their own blogs as their "personal" space where they're able to set boundaries for what they feel is acceptable/unacceptable behavior. just as an example, if someone made a vaguepost about something i wrote saying that they feel [xyz] language i used was inappropriate (ex. I think it's problematic when people write meta describing c!Quackity as sadistic--), even if i stumbled onto that post and drew the conclusion that it was about my own meta, it's a fair enough opinion for them to put on their own blog. if they replied to me with that directly, though, i'd probably roll my eyes at the tone policing. does that makes sense? imo the etiquette when you jump onto someone else's post and make your own vaguepost can be pretty different, but that's my own personal judgement, so obviously it differs person to person. never mind the complication that exists because of tumblr asks.

all of that being said, tumblr is a public space and posting meta/analysis, in general, is kind of fandom academia lite. which circles back to my lack of real feeling on how to "solve" the problem of vagueing, bc i don't think any meaningful limits can really exist as long as people aren't doing things like encourage their followers to attack someone (which is another reason why someone might vague, though the actual efficacy of such a strategy kind of varies -- some people may make the judgement call not to directly reference any one blogger they disagree with by name/rb them directly in order to prevent their followers from going on crusades on their own) -- it's a source of natural conflict and friction, especially within a small group such as this one, but especially when we're talking about meta analysis i do think it's a format of disagreement that will continue to exist and kind of has to continue to exist. at the same time, though, i don't think people should feel "punished" for writing meta, which can be what it feels like when there's an overwhelmingly negative response by others in the group.

more open disagreement in the meta scene here would probably be good for everyone, honestly, imo? i can think a take is bad/wrong/incorrect but that doesn't mean the take shouldn't exist, and it also doesn't mean that i should feel obligated not to share my opinions in the part of dreblr that is specifically meant to be about sharing opinions about the work, and the same goes for everyone. i think having more open discussions might also lessen the feeling of being more personally attacked or targeted, or feelings of "disrupting the peace" or "rocking the boat," when it's more openly acknowledged that people here won't always agree and that the disagreements are more obviously talked about. i think direct conversations are probably more productive in that sense than vagueing, truth be told, but is vagueing still going to happen? well, yeah, and i don't think that that's a bad thing necessarily -- nor do i think it's something that can be excised from the fandom without an uncomfortable amount of policing what people do in their own spaces.

i don't want to come off as just saying "don't take it personally when someone calls you an idiot for your take," because i mean, it's hard not to take it personally when someone calls you an idiot for your take. but meta and other fanwork, while obviously often in conversation with each other (oh 7y being a riff of the fandom, never not hilarious to me), definitely play by different rules. but i'm not gonna act like it doesn't get awkward either, bc yeah it gets awkward 😭. i feel like a lot of the problems right now come from there being not enough conflict so that everyone reacts a little too strongly when there is any (when meta + analysis conflict should be restricted to being about the work moreso than being about any particular blogger) and that more obvious diversity in opinions would probably be good for everyone here, but that doesn't exactly eliminate the fact that the ways that people disagree and react to said disagreement are still a source of discomfort and friction -- and i still don't really think there are any easy answers.

thanks for the thoughts elm !! :D i hope that having a more active discussion ig might help with the issue, or at least help people to feel that the issue is being acknowledged ... ? and obviously im just one person saying my own thoughts, i don't expect everyone to agree with this

a little ramble about dreblr, meta, and the ever evolving nature of this fandom, i guess?

i don't mean to soapbox, this is mostly just going to be vomiting some thoughts into a post. some recent stuff and a post or two have had me thinking about this fandom and how different it is from when dsmp was ongoing. it's,, pretty obvious that the fandom is quite a bit smaller and less active than that time, and there are generally a lot fewer people actively posting meta and such every day--which isn't necessarily a bad thing, and is natural obviously considering that the dsmp ended almost 2 years ago, but does mean that the culture around (?) meta and such has shifted, as well. it's one of those things too i think that is felt so much more obviously in dreblr, which is an even smaller group within this fandom that formed in response to uhhh being very much considered unwelcome by the greater fandom at the time.

that being said, as is the nature of all fandom, dreblr is still a community of people who are largely strangers who have gathered together because of one commonality: very strong feelings and often very strong opinions on the dream smp and c!dream. and i think when the fandom was more active, the entire fandom felt a lot more like a "pvp enabled" zone, lmao -- it was every other day when there'd be some new batshit meta about c!dream or some stream to react to and analyze and fight people about and whatever. since then, though, with the dsmp gone, the fandom has become quieter -- which i think has allowed some of the variation in opinions within dreblr become more and more obvious? and also become a sort of source of friction.

again, this is normal for any fandom. i'm certainly not here to agree with everyone about c!dream always, lmao. but the vagueing of takes is always more awkward on both sides when it's someone where you share more of the same circles. at the end of the day, it's up to each individual blogger's discretion to choose what they will or won't post on their own blog, but at the same time ... when it comes to the community, just speaking for myself, i don't want a super high barrier of entry when it comes to people feeling like they can't join this fandom unless they've got [xyz] experience or [xyz] takes.

when it comes to actual analysis of the source material, though, keeping meta a safe place for people to say "no, i don't agree with this take because of [xyz]" is important as well, which always raises the question of how said disagreements should be handled. and again, i'm no authority, i'm not here to tell people what to do. personally, when it comes to my own blog, i don't like to post very much directly about any one blogger, but I know I've definitely written posts inspired by specific takes before as well as screenshots of takes from the fandom's heyday, etc. i don't necessarily feel uncomfortable with this ...? but at the same time, i know that vagueposts can be a source of discomfort, especially if they're about your take in particular (speaking from experience) -- so it's you know. not the easiest line to draw, I guess, especially when we're talking about a community where different people are going to have different levels of comfort with what they post on their own blogs and what other blogs do in response to their takes. and whatever.

vagueposting, i think, has been common in the tumblr dsmp fandom for a long time, and especially in dreblr -- direct engagement in the past errr usually went badly, so a habit formed of keeping everything we did kind of within our own spaces (hence why many of us don't even tag c!dream or even dreblr on most of our posts; keeping everything untagged, or keeping the tagging system restricted to our own blogs, limited the possibility of trouble). that being said, vagueing within dreblr has become more common, i think, as disagreements within dreblr have become more and more obvious in the time since the dsmp ended. (just for the obvious example: i think it's a bit of an open secret that i, personally, strongly disagree with much of the common depictions of c!drunz in this fandom. i've written some meta about this before, as well as some responses to meta--which i enjoyed greatly, believe me--but i've also noticed (perhaps coincidence) an uptick in c!drunz positive meta every time i or someone else makes a post that maybe skews more negative. which is normal, don't get me wrong, but also a pattern i've noticed. i'm also very aware that someone the arguments i may bring up as counterarguments or structure my posts around arguing against are based on actual arguments i've seen while in this space, which i'm aware is an easy source of friction within dreblr.) and it's easy to say "don't take it personally when it's just metaanalysis," but that's easier said than done, lmao, especially depending on the tone of the vaguepost and a myriad of other factors.

i'm not saying that i have the answers. or, for that matter, a single answer. the boundaries i set aren't going to be the same as the boundaries other people set, for one, and i have no desire to police what other people do on their own blogs. i do miss, sometimes, the more collaborative and discussion-based meta experience of this fandom when it was more active--i might try to more actively reblog posts (including those i don't necessarily agree with) to discuss this server and these characters, bc at the end of the day that is kind of why we're here. personally, i've always drawn a pretty sharp distinction between fanwork and analysis -- i think it's pretty bad form to criticize people's AUs In General (not that i've not. been guilty of it in the past, but i try at least to keep it to criticizing more general patterns within fanwork; look, i'm not going to claim a moral high ground, i love bitching way too much and should probably get a handle on that but asj;lkfdsaf) but when we're talking meta about the source material, barring shit like. you know, harassment and otherwise abusive behavior, i do consider it more of a free-for-all. at the same time, i know that these standards can lead to newer fans feeling like they're going to be booed out the door for sharing their thoughts, which, i mean, isn't great 😭😭😭 fresh eyes can bring a lot of really cool new insights, and it'd suck pretty damn bad to miss that because they don't feel welcome, yknow?

anyway, this is a very inconclusive post, but i thought i'd just throw some of my thoughts out as someone who has been here for a decently long time. and if you want to discuss w/ me, inbox and dms are always open :)

[doomednarrative]

I do resent the assertion that Jacket is a protag who loves destruction and violence and does what he does because he likes it.

Jacket is a war vet who never received any help after coming home, and who had his prejudice against the Russians (both for his friend Beard’s death in the San Fran nuking and due to almost killing him in the war too) manipulated and used by 50 Blessings for their own agenda. Like that other post I reblogged before said, if Jacket really liked everything that he was doing, would Richard and Don Juan and Rasmus even exist and be questioning him? They’re all figments made of Jacket’s coma addled mind while he tries to reckon with everything that’s happened to him. If Jacket really liked the violence and death he caused, rather than feeling like it’s a way to get revenge for his dead friend and deal with that grief, why would his mind be questioning him on his actions, telling him he’s done terrible things and that he’s a bad person?

Hell, you can see from the way he deals with other people outside of the mafia that he really doesnt like hurting and killing people! The homeless guy he kills in the beginning of the game makes him vomit right after committing the act, and he’s clearly upset with/sickened by what he’s done if that’s anything to go off of. When given a chance to kill Girlfriend, he doesn’t! She’s entirely in a vulnerable position and if he was really doing everything because he enjoys the violence, he would have just killed her straight off. Instead, he helps her. He brings her home, lets her live with him and get herself back together, and eventually they have a relationship. Richter of course is the biggest example of this whole sentiment though, seeing as he’s the one responsible for Girlfriend’s death. Jacket went to the station with the intent to get info out of him, and seemingly Did go to kill him! But he had a change of heart in the end, maybe feeling bad considering what Richter said about them being similar (being forced to do things by 50 Blessings) and lets him go.

If Jacket really was a guy who Enjoyed all of the violence and the killing, I don’t think he’d have done Any of that. He’s not like Martin, who easily expresses that he has a desire to hurt and kill people, or like Jake, who revels in his deeper prejudice and hatred and takes it to extreme levels. And that’s not to say Jacket is a Good person either, he’s clearly very morally complicated and does a lot of horrible things!! He signs up for 50 Blessings himself, he clearly has issues with his own hatred of the Russians and doesn’t mind the violence when it’s against them specifically.

But the thing that sets him apart from other main characters of this narrative is that his motivations and drive to commit those acts are Focused, rather than being broad all encompassing hatred. His goal was to get revenge for the death of a dear friend that he lost due to a Russian nuke, and because he himself had almost died in the war from them, and would have if Beard hadn’t saved him. Jacket’s Whole motivation for what he does, despite the ripple effects it does cause, were Very very focused and due to his grief and war trauma and he had those feelings manipulated further by 50 Blessings so that he could be a pawn in their long spanning agenda of political unrest. That’s why Jacket ending HLM 1 with tossing the photo of he and Beard off the balcony is so significant: it represents an end to his fight. He’s achieved what he considered his goal in revenge, and he’s done with trying to keep enacting out violence or killing people. That’s why he doesn’t participate in the prison riot like Richter does either; he’s done and he’s given up.

Jacket’s such a multi layered character, and it feels like such a disservice to other parts of his narrative, particularly that he’s a war vet with clear trauma, to reduce him to a guy who did Any of this because he liked it. Every single step in his story points to the answer of the question “Do you like hurting people” to not be so clear cut as to say just Yes or No. It’s more than that, and that answer deserves nuance in order to clearly understand Jacket and the effect his actions have on the story at large.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

I Want Us Both to Eat Well

Ao3

Summary: Remy might not be great with self-care, but they've got the 'taking care of Logan' thing down to a science. And Logan can work with that. Content: Overworking, mentions of poor eating/sleeping habits, caretaking, it’s pretty soft overall, nonbinary remy Pairing: Losleep

~

Despite what some may think, Logan didn’t have the most demanding of jobs within the mindscape. He wouldn’t call his work a walk in the park, of course, but when he was largely tasked with matters such as scheduling and memory allocation, versus such things as emotional processing or idea creation, Logan had no plans on complaining.

And Logan’s most complicated job? Even less complaints to be figuratively filled, given it was his favorite.

See, for a good while now, Logan had been dating Remy, a figment of the Imagination created by Roman for a one-time vine gag that somehow managed to get enough permanence for themself to function as their own being. For a bit, they had simply wandered about, teasingly flirting with not only the sides but Thomas himself. Something about Logan must have held their attention however, because soon enough he was the only side being ‘bothered’.

It didn’t take long for the feelings of ‘botherment’ to morph into amusement, which furthermore transformed into affection and soon even love. Remy had made a bad attempt at celestial flirting, and despite the inaccuracies, Logan had greatly appreciated the sentiment.

Appreciated it enough to allow “I love you” to escape both his thoughts and mouth, an acknowledgement that had left the two of them in similar states of shock for a whole ten seconds before Remy was in Logan’s lap and doing their damndest to kiss him breathless.

Remy only became more cemented in the inner workings of Thomas’s mind after that, likely a consequence specifically of how much time they were spending in Logan’s room. They were still a figment, but they were rapidly gaining actual responsibilities, things they had to do or else Thomas would directly suffer. Most were connected to sleeping- making sure the sides were rested, bullying Thomas to bed when needed, lining up memories as appropriate to be saved and stored during REM- but some were simply random, the misc assignments settling onto the not-a-side.

Usually, Remy could manage it all without much issue. They would complain heavily, sure, bemoaning the days when they were a free-spirit with nothing to do, almost sounding like Roman when they spoke of the cruelty of fate that such was the price of love, but as long as Logan was there to hum sympathetically and play with their hair, they were good.

Occasionally however… it was too much. Too many late nights and sleepless mornings convincing others to rest, too many memories to pick between and sort, too many tasks all piling up. Remy would get overwhelmed and end up overworked if no one stopped them in time.

Luckily for Remy… they had Logan.

Figuring out that Remy had hit their breaking point wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, the first step of Logan’s ‘job’ therefore being the most difficult. Remy, for all their bellyaching, didn’t want to be perceived as a slacker or irresponsible with their job. With sunglasses, coffee, and their devil-may-care attitude, they could normally fake being alright for a day or two past actually being alright.

But the facade always cracked in the end, and as soon as it did, Logan was there.

So, the second step, taken once Logan recognized those cracks: eat a good and filling breakfast. This step was especially important, and made the list to remind Logan that a coffee and crofters-covered bagel wouldn’t be sufficient.

Next, Logan went about assigning Remy’s usual tasks to the other sides. To Virgil and Patton, enforcing Thomas’s bedtime. To Janus, memory dealings. To Roman and Remus, whichever various misc tasks Remy had at the time. And top it all off with a lecture to the lot of them to sleep well.

(Logan always expected some resistance on this step, and was always surprised to find none. “If you say they need a break, they need a break.” Virgil said one time with a shrug. “We want to help where we can.”)

Then there came the final step: convincing Remy to take a break. To most, this would be the hardest step. Even when all their work was attended to, Remy would insist they had things to do, that they couldn’t just take a break, especially not one as long as Logan would suggest.

Logan wasn’t ‘most’.

Before Logan entered his room (or, more accurately, his and Remy’s room, the figment not having a place outside of the Imagination and therefore opting to move into Logan’s), he double checked that everything was ready.

Breakfast? Eaten.

Time? Well past noon.

Work? Distributed.

Tie? Loosened.

Shirt? Untucked.

“Hotel? Trivago.” (vocabulary cards!)

Logan let himself into his (now shared) room. Remy was sprawled across his (now shared) bed, flipping through their own notecards- the form memories took when viewed within the logical side’s room. Their sunglasses were set aside on Logan’s (now shared) desk, making it easy for Logan to spot the dark bags beneath their eyes.

They glanced up when Logan entered, cocking an eyebrow as they took in his appearance. “You’ve looked better, babe.” Remy commented lightly, though Logan could hear the concern in their voice. “You here to crash? I can move.”

Logan didn’t answer right away, instead walking over to stand in front of Remy. Before his partner could guess what he was doing, Logan had grabbed the memory cards they were sorting, easily willing them away.

Remy’s eyebrow only raised higher. “Alright, yeah, someone needs to take a nap.”

“And that someone would be you.” Logan replied. “Or, more appropriately, someone needs to take several days to rest.”

Remy chuckled. “You sure about that, sweetheart? I wouldn’t think you’d want me falling behind on work, especially for Thomas’s sake.”

“Your work is being handled, Thomas will be fine.” Logan assured, taking a moment to tenderly tuck some of Remy’s hair behind their ear. Remy’s expression softened at the gesture. “I have taken care of everything for you, save one thing.”

“Oh?” Remy prompted, looking vaguely amused by Logan’s approach. “And what’s that one thing, doll?”

With a smile, Logan settled himself in Remy’s lap, arms wrapping lightly around the back of their neck. “Myself.”

Remy’s brow furrowed at the answer, their concern returning full force. “Log-”

“I have not eaten since breakfast,” he neglected to mention it was a large enough breakfast the lack of lunch hadn’t truly affected him, “I am stressed,” he ignored that the stress was Remy-based, “and my appearance is unkempt;” he pretended this was not a very conscious choice, “therefore, I should be resting, and yet, I am not.”

“You do seem tired…” Remy murmured, one of their hands moving to rest steadily on Logan’s hip while the other gently cupped his cheek. Logan appreciated the moment as long as he could, lazily leaning into Remy’s touch while the overworked figment searched his face for more signs of exhaustion.

Then they squinted at him. “Wait. This isn’t some ploy of yours, is it? ‘Cause no offense hun, but this feels a bit too easy. Normally you go running when I try to stop you from working on bad days.”

“I admit I am usually more… difficult about such matters, but I assure you, my love, this is no ploy. That would imply only I benefit from this situation. I think we both would.”

“Oh? How so?”

Logan’s fingers traced random patterns on Remy’s upper back. “You prefer to see me in good health and enjoy taking care of me. I prefer to see you in good health and know that letting you take care of me will subsequently lead to you being taken care of as well.” He kissed Remy’s forehead. “We both benefit, for the sake of not only ourselves, but each other as well.”

Remy sighed, their attempt at annoyance falling rather flat, in Logan’s opinion. “I can tell you’ve planned this out, babe.” Their hand on Logan’s cheek slipped into his hair, lightly scratching at Logan’s scalp.

The logical side involuntarily let out a content hum at the motion, briefly letting his eyes close as he pressed closer against Remy, their hand now supporting more of his head than Logan was. “Mhm, the plan of self-care? I think it’s a good plan.” Logan partially opened his eyes to catch Remy’s gaze. It was fond and sweet, Remy having clearly been swayed by tired Logan. “Do you think it’s a good plan?”

“Yeah.” Remy agreed softly, Logan grinning as he realized he had ‘won’ (really, they had both won, seeing how desperately Remy needed rest, but for the intents and purposes of this particular situation… Logan had won). “It was a great plan, angel.”

Logan allowed his head to be transferred onto Remy’s shoulder, happily nestling it into the crook of their neck. He could feel as Remy shifted their position, clearly going to lay Logan down on the bed. However, the bed alone would not be enough, Logan locking his arms behind Remy’s neck when they tried to let him go.

“Oh, come on, sugar, I can’t- I need both my hands- oh, alright, fine, if you’re gonna be like that, I’ll make it work.”

It took a couple minutes longer than it might have if Logan had allowed Remy to let go of him, but soon enough Logan was being deposited in a proper pile of blankets and pillows, all packed in together and arranged in the corner of the bed that lined up against the corner of the wall. He released Remy this time, comfortably sinking into the heap.

“I’m happy you’ve deemed this arrangement of your bed more acceptable than the one you yourself made, sweetheart.” Remy teased even as they worked on tucking the pile closer around him. “I’m going to grab lunch now, alright? Don’t go anywhere.”

It was an unnecessary request, given that Logan’s master plan of self-care wouldn’t benefit from him making Remy hunt him down, but the familiarity of it made Logan snort. The blanket-pillow lump had a one hundred percent success-rate with dissuading Logan from escape, no matter the circumstance, but Remy’s consistency in reminding Logan to stay put was endearing every time.

Remy returned within a few minutes, carrying a plate filled with ham and cheese cubes and some bunches of purple grapes. They placed it on part of the bed not overtaken by the plush pile before carefully climbing over it, cautious to not make a mess as they joined Logan. They slid into place behind him with practiced ease, shifting Logan to be more in their lap and against their chest before tucking the blankets back in around them both.

Logan leaned back against Remy as they settled, resting his head at a tilted angle so that he could keep his eyes on Remy. Noticing this, Remy smiled softly, pressing a kiss to Logan’s forehead.

“Alright babe who hasn’t eaten since breakfast, time to eat.” Remy said, tugging the plate closer to them before picking up one of the cubes and offering it to Logan. He let Remy pop it in his mouth, swallowing it while Remy grabbed another morsel of food. The motions were easy and repetitive, and soon enough nearly half the plate was gone.

Breaking the skin on a grape, Logan caught Remy’s wrist as they went to offer him a ham cube. Remy raised an eyebrow. “Darlin’?”

“You need to eat too.” Logan explained, nudging Remy’s hand towards their own face. “I know how you get when you’re busy.”

“Well now you’re not even being subtle.” Remy teased even as they accepted their redirected ham cube. Alternating between themself and Logan, Remy returned to their work of emptying the plate, quickly finishing off what remained of it.

When there was nothing left on the dish, Remy gracelessly pushed it off the bed, Logan well aware they’d pick it up later but still rolling his eyes at the laziness in the gesture.

“Shh, I can hear you thinking, love.” Remy trailed a few kisses down the side of Logan’s face, their arms wrapping snugly around his waist. “It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up later. Don’t worry about it.”

“You could take care of it now though.” Logan argued weakly, already once-more melting into Remy’s hold.

Remy chuckled, peppering more kisses across his chin. “Then I’d have to let go of you, my lovely Lo, and I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.”

“Mmm, fair point.”

“Plus,” Remy went on as they began to slide into a more horizontal position, laying Logan down with them and briefly releasing his waist so as to move his glasses from his face to the bedside table, “it’s naptime. Someone needs their rest.”

“You.”

“Which one of us is taking care of the other again? You’re the tired one.”

Logan laughed quietly at Remy’s rebuttal, rolling over and nuzzling his face into Remy’s neck. He wasn’t sure when the lights in the room had turned off, but he was fairly certain it had been Remy’s doing. “Fine. I am very tired. So tired I have completely forgotten what to do now. Remind me how to sleep.”

“Dramatic-ass.” Remy’s tone was too soft to match their words. They pressed their cheek against Logan’s hair, their breath as they spoke close enough for Logan to feel its warmth. “You’ve just gotta close your eyes and stop thinking about anything that isn’t your wonderful partner and their wonderful fluffy pile of comfort and relaxation.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Logan dropped a kiss on Remy’s collarbone. “I could do this for days and days and-”

“Shhhh, starlight. Rest.” Remy slowly ran a hand up-and-down Logan’s back, successfully distracting him from his poorly-veiled (but loving) jab at Remy. “Bully me later.”

Logan didn’t respond verbally, opting instead to hum in contentment and snuggle up closer to Remy. There was no way they’d be able to slip out of bed without Logan noticing- not that they’d try, not now, but Logan appreciated the assurance of proximity. Despite not truly being tired, Remy’s warmth and Logan’s relief at knowing they would finally be resting themself were enough to make his eyelids heavy, the idea of sleeping peacefully with his partner too tempting to pass up.

So, yes, Logan did have some difficult duties to attend to, the caretaking of Remy the most complicated of them all. But drifting off happily in Remy’s arms, Logan remained firm in his stance that it was his favorite duty.

[writefightandflightclub]

Right behind you:(Bodyguard!Santiago “Pope” Garcia x M!Celebrity!reader)

This is my offering for this week’s #writerwednesday from @autumnleaves1991-blog, which this week is joint with @flightlessangelwings’ Jey’s Pride celebration! 🥳

The verbal prompt was: glitter and/or “I’ll always be by your side.”

The visual prompt is the photo below.

This gave me the idea for a very quickly written one shot with bodyguard!Santi and male celebrity reader! I hope you like it!

Warnings: food mentions; mentions of panic attack / hyperventilating. Mentions of sensory overload. One mention of Santi “sucking off” reader. Language. TYPOS, undoubtedly.

Rating: mature for mentions of oral sex but no explicit / actual smut.

Gender stuff: he/him pronouns / masc! terms of endearment used for reader. Implied that reader is a penis owner - no other physical descriptions besides reader wearing a suit and some make-up.

Genre: angst then mainly fluff and happiness! Hurt / comfort, I guess.

ALSO: BONUS CAMEO FROM ANOTHER OSCAR CHARACTER. Did you spot him?

You perch on the couch in your suite, taking steadying breaths and trying desperately to ward off hyperventilation as your bodyguard grips your trembling hand firmly in his. The air is quaking in and out of your lungs and you can no longer help the tears which spike in your eyes and spill over on to your cheeks.

He gives your fingers a squeeze as he crouches before you, and you can’t help the surge of guilt that this is so far outside of his job description. He’s meant to protect you, not comfort you. His work centres on your physical well-being, but you can’t count the times he’s bolstered your emotional well-being too. Then again, this is the only time he’s done so quite as blatantly in front of the rest of your staff, perhaps.

“Oh no, don’t you dare cry, sweetie,” your make-up artist - who will not be getting rehired you decide suddenly- flaps around you, attempting to fuss over you with a tissue. Her panic about her work being ruined at the worst possible moment is plain as day, and it only makes your chest constrict further.

“This isn’t helping” is the only thought blaring loudly in your mind, but you cannot for the life of you push the words out right now. You shut your eyes in an attempt to block it all out. To subdue the sensory overload.

You are thankful that your bodyguard intuits that sentiment on your behalf when you can’t, and you hear his voice is coming from a different angle now, his head whipped sharply sideward and up towards the offending MUA.

“For real? Ffff....” you close your eyes and hear Santi bite down on a curse. You’d laugh if you weren’t so preoccupied, trying desperately to focus on his voice amidst the chaotic, intersecting hubbub of the room. “Ma’am, could you please back the shit up?” He bites. Apparently he can’t stifle the cursing entirely.

Your limp hand travels along with his as he waves his arm around emphatically. “In fact. Out. Everyone out. Now. Please.”

His request slices through the nervous air in the room, his words deep and commanding and delivered with an authority that you doubt anyone would dare question. This man must be obeyed, and in the back of your mind you congratulate yourself for your decision to take a chance on hiring this moody ex-soldier with creaky knees. When he needed to he could certainly clear a room. And on top of that, he offers you a whole lot more besides.

Indeed, here he is, going above and beyond, kneeling on said creaky knees for you. Protecting you, and comforting you too.

Your eyes are still closed as the room gradually quietens, until it is so still you could hear a pin drop. Until you can hear the steady rise and fall of Santi’s breath. Until you can hear the delicate wet noise of his lips parting so his tongue can skim his lips. You can hear him swallow.

As you hear the sound of the final remaining person shuffle out, and the door gently click closed behind them, you are finally able to peel open your eyes. You are able finally able to release your bottom lip from the grip of your teeth, an indent having formed where you have bitten down so hard you have threatened to draw blood.

Santi is as still as death as he waits, and as soon as he hears that final click, he is moving. Only then, does he allow his (thin) veneer of professionalism to collapse. He allows the flats of his palms to snake up your thighs, rubbing reassuring shapes into you, and you feel the familiar heat and press of of him through the luxe fabric of your suit trousers.

“Look at me, cariño,” he soothes, in a deep, fond tone, entirely different to those bitten off commands reserved for the rest of your entourage. “It’s just you and me now. Look at me, baby.”

You do. You look into his big brown eyes and you and he could be the only two people in the world, never mind the room. You sniff, and you fumble away a stray tear before settling your palms on top of his.

You slow your breathing and Santi flashes you a small, proud smile. “That’s it, honey. Nice and slow. Just like that.”

Then, he flinches, his head leaning to the side as though he could physically retreat from whatever angry voice is no doubt blaring into his ear. Then, he makes a point of taking the earpiece out altogether, letting it hang over the collar of his white shirt.

He tugs in a huge exhale too, letting go of the tension he held in his body through his concern for you, although his eyes slit flit around your face in residual concern.

“They’ll be mad you did that,” you warn, with a nod to his earpiece.

“Whatever. It’s not my job to get you to the red carpet on time. It’s my job to look after you.”

“Your job? Hmm? That all I am to you?”

He flashes you a lopsided smile as you tease him. “I’m a lucky man. My job happens to be a thing I love doing outside of work too.” You lift your palm to his face, the familiar texture of his stubble beneath your fingers. “Now, honey. No rush. But do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

You look away from him then as you realise he won’t let you distract him enough to avoid the true issue at hand, but his hands are still languidly smoothing your thighs, and you know he won’t make you do anything you don’t want to before you’re ready. He might dole out some tough love, eventually, but not until he is sure that you can take it. He lets you fumble until you find the words. “It’s... even the thought of it, Santi. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done. All those cameras. All those eyes on me, I...”

Santi shushes you, as he hears the resurgent panic creep into your voice, even as your fingertips idly trace over his handsome features, a self-soothing unconscious thing, as he continues to kneel before you.

But while you may be panicked, he’s smiling. Looking up at you earnestly. “You deserve all those eyes on you, hermoso.” You don’t mind at all that when his voice comes out now it’s both fond and a just a little dirty as his own, very attentive eyes sweep over you.

“I don’t know...” You nibble on your lip again.

“Baby. You deserve this night. You’ve worked so hard for this. You’re so talented. And holy shit. You look so fucking hot in this suit I can barely function.” You let out a small, tentative laugh, which Santi seems pleased by, his own eyes creasing at the corners in return. “Besides,” he continues, tone more earnest now, his thick brows raised as he hammers his point home. “I’ll be right there. Just a few steps behind you, okay, mi Principe?”

You take one more deep breath, expelling it slowly and steadily through the “o” of your mouth, and Santi can’t resist your pursed lips a moment longer. Yet, for all his comments about how hot you are, his kiss is not as devouring as you might expect. It is a soft, tender thing, barely skimming your lips, and yet even so it appears to inspire a reverent heat in him, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek as his eyes remain closed a moment longer. As he expels a gust of disbelieving air at how you make him feel from this alone.

“Or,” he proposes, his voice breathy. “We could sack this whole thing off? We could order chilli cheese fries to the room and I can suck you off until you can’t think straight?”

You kiss him again, this time giving him just a hint of tongue, even as you laugh musically into his open, increasingly eager mouth.

“Appealing as that sounds, my love, I probably shouldn’t miss this...” you nod your head towards the door “...lil thing.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Santi concedes with a fond, lopsided smile, his eyes flashing with adoration, until he reluctantly schools himself back to something resembling professionalism. He gives you a few moments to gather yourself, and for his... eagerness to subside, before asking “You ready?”.

You nod. “Ready as I’m gonna get.”

“There he is. That’s my man.” Santi gives your thighs one more squeeze before he stands, and you swear you hear his poor knees creak; and then, he is replacing his ear piece, his face becoming all business as he presses two fingers to his ear. “Kolpakov? We’re ready to move out. Everyone in position?”

He awaits the response before turning back to you, practically gasping as he sees you stood there in all your glory for the first time. His eyes sweep up and down the length of you. He shakes his head incredulously, switching his mic off for a moment more. “Fuck me. You look like a fucking dream.”

“Not so bad yourself,” you respond in a loving, flirtatious tone, dancing your fingertips across his chest as you sweep past him towards the doorway and he turns with you as if in your thrall.

As you prepare, taking another deep breath and gripping the handle, Santi reaches for your arm, delaying you for just another moment. “Santi,” you laugh. “We can do the chilli cheese fries later, I promise.”

But that’s not quite what he has in mind. He looks at you intensely, and he cups your face in his broad palm. “Don’t forget. You deserve those eyes on you. But if you get overwhelmed, know that my eyes are on you. Wherever you go, I’ll be right behind you.”

The sentiment and sincerity with which he says this makes your mouth fall open in shock. Makes your chest constrict with happiness rather than nerves - but you aren’t afforded the opportunity to respond. In the next moments, the door is flung open, and your entourage is flooding you, barking directions and whisking you down the staircase and out on to the red carpet.

You are pulled away from Santi, and you don’t get to be near him again, besides a quick, surreptitious whisper into the shell of your ear as he follows you out the door “we need to talk about your ass in these pants because holy shit” - but that is all you can steal.

True to his word though, wherever you go he is right behind you. He is there with a firm arm to form a protective wall should a photographer come too close, or a fan get too handsy over a barrier. He is standing, stern and formidable to your rear as you provide sound bites to the tv stations forming a line up to the venue (and, trying very hard not to ogle your ass in these pants, probably).

He’s right behind you, designed to fade into the background in every sense. For all his charisma, he’s good at it. Not drawing attention. Even his suit is designed to be non-descript.

But... that’s not where he should be, you realise.

And, when you are almost at the end of the carpet, you stop in your tracks. You hesitate, and you turn around, your gaze instantly finding him in the crowd. He looks concerned, alarmed, as though you may have gotten the jitters again and like you might be about to do a runner.

But that’s not it. That’s not it at all.

In fact, you are more calm and sure than you have been all evening, looking at his befuddled, deer in headlights expression as all the attention suddenly falls on him. He has some big talk and a tough exterior, but the centre of him is soft, and you love that about him.

And so, a cautious smile blooms on your face as you settle firmly on your plan of action, and you walk determinedly in the “wrong” direction, going against the stream of attendees and making a beeline for your love, as he, for once -your man of action- stands frozen in confusion.

Then, when you arrive at him you stop, placing both your hands flat on the lapels of his suit, smoothing them down.

“What are you-?” he begins to ask, but you cut him off.

“Santi, my love. This is ridiculous. I don’t want you behind me. I want you by my side. Where you should be. So, fuck it. Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to this premiere?”

He answers with a smile. With sparkling eyes. With his arms flung around your waist. With the press of his curved lips against yours, and a slip of his supple tongue. “Baby. I’ll always be by your side.” His hands slip a little lower. “Or - you know - sometimes right behind you.” He winks at you. God, you adore this idiot.

So, you wrap your arms around him, guffawing fondly into his neck before kissing him again, more deeply, not caring who’s watching. Your face splits with a beaming smile as you break from the embrace and link your arm into his, proceeding to walk up the carpet again: together this time.

“Fuck me though, honey,” Santi leans over to confide in you as he straightens up his tie, as if suddenly noticing the photographers for the first time now that they are noticing him. “You could have warned me you were going to french me on the red carpet, I would have put on a better suit.”

You laugh warmly as he continues to babble, and you reassure him that he looks perfect.

You know he’s doing his best to mask it, but he’s the nervous one now - you can tell. “Don’t worry, handsome,” you reassure. “Just you and me, remember?”

No-one else in the world.

“Jesus. How do you do this?” he asks, balking at all of the camera flashes going off in his face, his voice choked.

Luckily, Kolpakov - his second in command- figures out what’s happening and takes the cue to intervene, shifting the line back just a little to give the two of you some space. A good job too as you see beads of sweat forming on your love’s brow.

“How do I do this?” you ponder. “Well, I always have you to protect me, right?” You squeeze his arm tenderly. “And I’ll protect you now, my darling.”

This- having him by your side? You have no doubt that this feels right. It is where he has been all along, albeit only in the shadows. In private moments. But tonight, as he encouraged you into the spotlight, you realised how little you cared for hiding. You need him with you.

“Jesus,” Santi chuckles, looking around and trying to take everything in. “The boys are gonna have a fucking field day with this one. I didn’t even tell them we were dating.”

“What the hell, Garcia?!” you chide fondly, mouth open in a shocked “o”, before beginning to chatter and banter away with him as you easily fall into step together. Distracting him from his nerves like he always does for you.

With Santi by your side, you no longer care about all of the other eyes on you. All of the camera flashes. The crowds. Those watching at home.

You’re proud of your achievements. You’re proud of your relationship. And besides, the only eyes on you which you pay any heed to are his. Santiago’s gorgeous brown eyes, which, right now, shine with nothing but pride.

Yours shine right back.

You think he is the one who deserves all eyes on him, tonight.

[yanderart]

   Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

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Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo). 

-------

   You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset. 

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut. 

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold. 

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them. 

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

   But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight. 

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most  ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves. 

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night. 

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year. 

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.  

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality. 

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

   In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder. 

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment. 

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough. 

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted. 

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand. 

 A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk. 

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

   Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking,  chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead. 

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web. 

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.  

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas. 

   How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps. 

   Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.  

   Government lies and why they matter. 

   Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl). 

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum. 

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

   Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter. 

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

   I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question. 

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior. 

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen. 

   I just think it's amazingThe things you know

   How you share them with everyone

   The way you see through the lies

   I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation. 

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping. 

   I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too. 

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded. 

   I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros. 

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself. 

   I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out. 

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

   That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything? 

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

   Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either. 

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing. 

   So you really are a n00b then. 

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever. 

   And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game. 

Be more like you, you left unsaid. 

   So am I your senpai then? 

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback. 

   You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

   I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now. 

   Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind... 

   I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views. 

A welcomed change in topics. 

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

   Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you. 

   Well, yah. You make compelling arguments. 

   Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before. 

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins. 

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving. 

   I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath. 

   I can help you with that. 

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit. 

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point. 

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you. 

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

   Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust. 

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second. 

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well. 

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him. 

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required. 

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises. 

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap. 

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path. 

。。。。。

    Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.   

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand. 

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least. 

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner. 

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place. 

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness. 

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside. 

   Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you  received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you. 

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever. 

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

   And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well. 

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant. 

   I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up. 

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

   ...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together. 

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy. 

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there. 

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was. 

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance. 

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor. 

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?" 

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back. 

。。。。。                                                      

   The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.  

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame. 

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest. 

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently. 

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.  

   Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time. 

   This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

   Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.  

   i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch. 

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated. 

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

   Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent. 

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with. 

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed. 

   and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement. 

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in. 

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.  

   Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against. 

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves. 

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

   how the fck did u get that

   I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats 

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

   You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as. 

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

   fucking delete that right now, man.

   this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT. 

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle. 

And he was doing it all in your name.

   Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to. 

   y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing. 

   They're a friend. 

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone. 

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments. 

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way. 

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

   Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.  

   Anything for you, [Y/N]. 

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture. 

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips. 

You truly looked angelic like that. 

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after. 

。。。。。                                                   

    But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present. 

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

   Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently. 

   Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

   Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods. 

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start. 

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you. 

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you. 

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived. 

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

 。。。。。

    Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago. 

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into. 

   Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

   You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face. 

   Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto. 

   Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I? 

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation. 

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating. 

。。。。。

   On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier. 

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive. 

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest. 

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit. 

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony. 

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

   In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements. 

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was. 

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable. 

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves). 

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline. 

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend. 

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements. 

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live. 

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self. 

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle. 

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com. 

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring. 

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by. 

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth. 

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions. 

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building. 

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

   Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe. 

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic. 

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors. 

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that. 

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.  

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief. 

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure. 

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space. 

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet. 

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second. 

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place. 

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours. 

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action. 

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer. 

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages. 

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing. 

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind. 

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle. 

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it. 

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you. 

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite. 

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.    

。。。。。

   Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass. 

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled. 

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.  

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place? 

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper. 

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit. 

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you. 

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued. 

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to. 

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your  judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt. 

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time. 

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept. 

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation. 

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him. 

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans. 

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along. 

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways. 

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin. 

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not. 

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt. 

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them. 

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips. 

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole. 

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting. 

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer. 

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills. 

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning. 

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you. 

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down. 

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

   He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___; 

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni​, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight  😠 👑