#but it has given me . something to think about . and rotate .

[the-mang0tree]

unfortunately s3 left me with a brainrot the size of megop + prowl

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Unlucky Tug's season 13 & Hero of the Rails Retrospective video got me thinking about Spencer... As a character we really don't have much on him do we? (Which is ironically fitting since he's a private engine)

Come to think of it, most of what we know of Spencer are a handful of crumbs you can count off your fingers (that he's proud of being a speedster, that he enjoys his work as a private engine, that he's not overly fond of Sodor's engines, etc...), and just a few personality traits you can parse from watching how he interacts with others (which often amounts to him being a pompous jerk who cares more about his status than actually behaving in a way that upholds that status with grace). Other than that, we don't really know who he is or what he did before he became the Duke and Duchess of Boxford's privately owned engine...

Sure, he's an A4 Pacific but... Is he meant to be a specific one?

Every engine in the railway series and the tv shows has a proper basis one can refer to. Even if some of them are fictional members of a specific line of engines or heavily altered (Gordon as his class's imperfect but no less endearing prototype, Edward being a surviving member of his class despite all of the Larger Seagulls having been scrapped in actuality, James being a custom fleshed out in the series, and Henry being a personification of one class configuration being rebuilt into another, etc...the list is never ending here!) they still have a concrete basis you can look at and equate them to.

With that in mind... Is Spencer supposed to be one of the Silvers? The first batch of A4s that pulled the Silver Jubelee and didn't escape scrapping? If so, is he meant to be a fifth fictional member of the Silvers or is he actually one of them under a new identity?

I've seen the latter idea being toyed with a lot (and I do vibe with it because second chances at life freaking slap as a character arc!), but the former idea... The one where maybe he's a secret fifth member that was never really in prominence compared to his older siblings (overlooked and ignored)... It also does seem fitting doesn't it?

Especially considering none of his fellow Silvers survived.

What I'm getting at, is that Spencer strikes me as someone who's deeply insecure to the point he'll latch onto what he thinks is his (his status for example), and protects it with such jealous ferocity that it makes him a very difficult engine to get along with.

If he were one of the Silvers who somehow miraculously got bought by the Duke and Duchess of Boxford when he was going to be scrapped, it definitely makes sense why he tries to seem like he's more than he really is. Making himself out to be important would ensure he continues to remain useful enough that he won't see the cutter's torch so soon...

But it also makes him a potentially very unstable and volatile individual if he gets it in his funnel that someone is threatening his position/existence. Literally anything minor can be blown out of proportion. Including something as harmless as a cheeky little tank engine trying to show him up, and humiliating him in front of his lifeline...

Because trying to get a fellow steam engine scrapped due to a wounded ego is DEFINITELY a disproportional response to his petty squabble with Thomas. And his later reaction when Hiro rescues him shows this too. If Spencer were that much of a jerk that he is all for getting someone else scrapped, he wouldn't have changed his mind so easily.

Spencer's lack of a backstory not only bothers me, it also makes his behavior all that much more interesting to study under a microscope... Just what did he go through that THAT was the only way he thought was appropriate to get back at Thomas? Especially when later it becomes very apparent he didn't mean it...

Who were you Spencer? What did you see?

[eggrollforyou]

Need This

Law x F!Reader

CW: Established relationship, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart), slight angst- feelings of overwhelm, fingering, oral (M!receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, sub Law, needy Law, slight praise kink, religious themes if you squint

A/N: thanks everyone for participating in my poll! Sub Law smashed the competition! This was a fun one to indulge in. I hope you enjoy it. I definitely had to take breaks 🥵 I spent more time making the banner than I did proofreading. I'll come back later and make edits as I see them 🙈

“DAMN IT, SHACHI! I said NOT to do that. Bathroom duty, the next 4 rotations,” Law shouted in frustration. “W-what?! But Captain! Four rotations?! I just thought you might like to try something different with your rice balls this week,” Shachi exclaims as he dejectedly throws his hands down by his side. Law sucked his teeth in frustration, “And I said no, the last time you tried. Clear it with me before you waste the fucking ingredients. Four rotations,” as he stomps out of the galley.

You stared at Shachi in disbelief at Law’s outburst. Shachi returns your widened gaze as he shrugs in disbelief, “I don't know what the fuck has been going on with him. He's been so goddamn touchy the last few days. Ugh…fucking bathroom duty?!” He cries out as he swipes his hand down his face. “Fuck…,” he mumbles to himself as he walks out. You shift a glance over to Penguin who was sitting quietly, clearly trying not to invoke the wrath of Law. 

“How long has he been like this? I've only been gone for a couple weeks running that mission for him,” you ask quietly. “It's been like this the last week, almost. It's been UNBEARABLE, Y/N,” he sighs. “We've all been walking on eggshells. Even Bepo has been doing his best to stay in line. You've got to figure out what's going on with him and save us from this torture. Everyone is afraid to make him mad and end up with some fucked up duty as punishment.” He gets up and puts his dishes away for the poor soul who last pissed off Law- to clean it with a toothbrush. 

What the hell is going on? Nothing happened while I was out, I think. Even still, this really isn't like Law, you think to yourself. Sure punishments weren't out of the ordinary. Especially considering the antics the crew got up to, but something was up. Law was clearly extra touchy about everything. He usually wouldn't throw a fit over a change in his rice ball recipe. You sigh to yourself, wondering how you're going to handle this, lest you be subjected to his next punishment.

Law stormed back to his office quickly and slammed the door behind him in a huff. “What the FUCK was Shachi thinking? He knows what I like. Why would he randomly fucking change it?!” he grumbles to himself, still fuming. The three weeks have been an absolute shit show, especially the last week. Nothing has gone right. He feels absolutely out of control. Something he really doesn't like.

Sure with the Straw Hats, he's come to expect it. But on his own ship? He always had control. But it seemed there was something in the drinking water, because even his crew were doing everything they could to rip apart his every last nerve. He sighed in utter defeat and plopped down into his desk chair, covering his eyes with his hand on his brow.

It started with his last mission plan. He was working with Robin to gather info on a poneglyph. They went to some dusty ass island in the middle of nowhere based on some intel they gathered the week prior, only to learn that Shachi and Penguin got the information wrong. He gave them the leeway to do it on their own, because they groveled for the opportunity, and they fucked it up! Little did he know, they were simply given bad information, but that didn't change the fact that they were in the wrong fucking place at the wrong fucking time, so they couldn't ambush who they needed information. After that, it seemed everything was spiraling out of his control and he couldn't handle it any longer. 

He sighed again, showing his weary heart. Rubbing his temples, “Fuck…I overreacted again didn't I?” he questioned himself. He knew he was touchier than normal. He was just tired of it all. Tired of the responsibility of his crew, tired of always having to make the decisions because it seemed no one else could do it on their own, tired of being the only one with any sense to maintain charge. It was exhausting. Then he felt the pang of guilt in his chest. Shachi only changed the rice ball recipe by one ingredient, one that he liked, and he acted like an ass. He stood up, prepared to apologize. He opened the door to go to Shachi’s station and was met with you, wide eyed in surprise and your hand up, your knuckles about to knock on the door, right as he swung it open.

“Y/N, you're back!” He pulls you into a hug, one you noted was tighter than his usual, but you're quick to return it. You have been gone for two weeks to try to gather better intel on a sleazebag who supposedly had the correct information to the poneglyph Law and Robin were trying to find. Law sighed, taking in a big breath, smelling your hair- he missed it. “I missed you,” he whispers and you feel the tension in his body slowly soften. “When did you get back?” You walked him backwards into the office and closed the door behind you. “Just an hour ago. I witnessed your blow up on Shachi. Is everything okay? This stuff usually doesn't make you so upset,” you probe, as you push some of his hair out of his face, resting your hands to hold both sides of his face. 

Law sighs, “I know. I-I feel terrible. I shouldn't have blown up like that. I just….I'm so tired Y/N…nothing has gone to plan the last three weeks. I'm just….tired of it all.” You gaze back, trying to hide your surprise. Law isn't usually so forthcoming with how he's feeling. Usually he's …emotionally constipated. It's like pulling teeth to get him to talk to you, but now? You can see he's held in his stress for too long. His soul and heart are raw from the expectations he placed upon himself. Your heart twists at the sight. “Oh, Law, baby. Don't worry about Shachi. He'll be fine. I'll take care of it, ok? You don't have to do this alone.” 

You pull him to your lips in a reassuring kiss, embracing him to try to take some of his stress. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, returning your embrace, pulling you in tight and you feel his body begin to relax. “Are you ok?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, “You can talk to me,” you console. He sighs, his skin tingling as your fingertips lightly scratch his scalp. “I…,” he hesitates. Does he really want to burden you with this? The thought of opening up has him feeling vulnerable, but he feels so tightly wound.

Like a spool of wire pulled so taught that it’ll burst at any moment. He’s afraid of what the shrapnel could do. To you, to him, to his crew. Everything he’s worked so hard for. And suddenly, his thoughts flash to Corazon. How he put everything on the line to help him. A dying child, with little hope, ready to throw everything away. How he gave up everything, so that he could be the man he’s become. To live….to thrive.

His body shakes as he finds comfort in your presence, in your love. He takes a deep breath to steady his heart and his thoughts- racing a mile a minute. “I’m just so tired of the responsibility of everything. Being Captain, making sure everyone is safe. Making all the decisions, all the plans…all the time,” he pauses. You sense his hesitation to continue and don’t allow him to break from your hold. Running your hand in his hair, your other running pressured strokes on his back. Hoping it prompts him to continue. He senses your effort to ground him, “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it…But…it’s just been so much for so long…I wish I could just give up all control, even if only for a day.” Getting the words out finally makes him feel like he has space to breathe.

You hold his face between your palms, leaning back to look into his tired eyes. You see the exhaustion on his face; the weariness. How it’s taken its toll since you’ve been gone. “Thank you,” you press a kiss to his forehead, “for telling me,” you press another on his cheek, “I will always be here to help you, with whatever you need,” and another kiss to the corner of his mouth. You slowly walk him backwards, he stops when he feels the edge of the couch hit the back of his legs. Forcing him to sit, you straddle his lap, determined to smother him in your love and affection. Going on missions for him wasn’t out of the ordinary. After all, he had big plans. But you didn’t realize how much you missed him while you were gone for this one, especially after hearing about what weight he keeps himself under when you’re not there. 

He buries his face into your chest, not realizing how much you ground him through everything until now. He smells you again, taking long deep breaths, and suddenly his heart is pounding. Though this time not from stress, from your closeness. He realizes how wrapped in you he truly is at the moment. He pulls back to look at you, your eyes sparkling as you gaze back at him, and he presses a kiss to your collarbone. “Thank you. For….everything.” You smile warmly in return, trying to hide your surprise at this different side of him that you’ve never seen before. “You would do the same for me, Law. I will always be here for you. But next time…,” he looks at you, clearly on the upside of this moment, “Next time, come to me before it gets to this, okay?” His lips tug up into a shy smile and he nods, “I don’t want to see you hurting like this. All of us are here for you. We love you….I love you.” 

You lean down to give him another kiss. One turns into two and they continue to multiply. You feel the flutters of desire begin to grow as your bodies heat up and react to one another. His grip on you is tight as he keeps your chest pressed against his. As you slot your lips against his again, your tongues meet in a kiss that quickly gets heated. You begin to grind your hips into him, legs still straddling him, and he whines into your mouth. It sounds like music to your ears. Law NEVER whines. He’s always been one to take charge, but this time feels different. 

“Please, Y/N,” his voice wavers. This time, you think, you won’t let him. He feels your smirk on his lips, “You’ve been so good for me, Law. I think I should show you just how much I appreciate it,” as you grind your clothed cunt on his growing erection with more force. His eyes flutter shut and he whimpers. It fuels the fire you are stoking. “Please…I n-need you. I need this.” You lean back slightly to look at his rugged face. This time, there’s no scowl; it’s soft, relaxed, and needy. “Don’t worry Law, I’ve got you,” you huff, your voice low and full of desire. “Just relax for me, ok baby?” With his eyes closed, he nods, as you lean back to remove your shirt and bra, quickly, not stopping your relentless grinding on his lap.

His hands find purchase on your hips, clutching tightly, his fingertips turning white. You’re gasping into each other’s mouths as if you’re starving for one another. You unbutton his shirt and push it off of him, dragging your nails on every part of his exposed flesh that you touch as you bring them back up his body. Relishing in the goosebumps you leave in your wake. He shivers at the contact. “Does that feel good, baby?” He moans. “Mmmmm, I love when you make that sound for me,” you say as you press open mouthed kisses along the column of his neck and across the top of his shoulder.

You reach down to unbuckle his belt, you rise from his lap letting him shuffle his pants and boxers down as you pull your own shorts and panties, letting them pool at your feet. His eyes traveling from your ankles, looking at every part of you all the way up to your face as he pants in near desperation for your touch. You lean over him, caging him beneath you and he pulls you in, taking one of your breasts into his mouth. You throw your head back in pleasure as his tongue swipes and swirls around your nipple, his cheeks hollowing as he takes more of your breast into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his head, nails scraping into his scalp as you grip his hair. His hands grab your ass as he switches his attention to your other breast, gasping as he scrapes his teeth on your other nipple. 

You reach down, wrapping your hand around his hard cock, swiping your thumb across the tip, swirling the pre-cum that’s gathered there. He whimpers at your touch as you begin slowly teasing him, grazing your fingertips in teasing, featherlight touches, along the bottom of his length, “Is this what you want, baby?” 

“Y-ahh-yes, p-please, touch me Y/N,” he begs, his eyes glazed over, cheeks dusted in pink. He moans softly as you oblige in his request, grabbing length at the base and slowly twisting your fist up his length. You ghost your lips over his ear, your breath light and teasing. His breath hitches and his body stiffens as he flexes his every muscle. “You’re SO responsive for me, Law,” you whisper devilishly, intentionally keeping your lips a hair’s breadth away from the shell of his ear. His breaths come heavier and you take his wrist, bringing his hand to your core, “Feel what you do to me, Law.” You both moan as he takes two of his fingers and rubs them where you crave him most. His fingers swiping back and forth, collecting your slick- practically dripping- and swirling it around your clit. 

He inserts one finger and presses the spot that makes you go insane. He watches you in reverence as he continues to slowly work his finger in and out of you. You bite your lip when he inserts the second finger. Your hand on his cock falters as he crooks his fingers, pressing his thumb on your clit with steady pressure. His pupils dilated, sweat collecting on his brow from being so worked up. “Mmmf, f-fuck, yes Law. Right there. You make me feel sooooo good,” you whimper trying not to collapse on him. His fingers continue pumping in and out of you. The room filled with sounds most unholy, the air thick with desire as you pant into each other's mouths.

You adjust while Law continues to scissor you open with his fingers, leaning down, you kiss and kitten-lick his leaking tip. He pauses for a moment, hand clenched while other hand stops fingering you. You smirk for a moment, enjoying Law turning into a flushed mess at your touch. “Tell me what you need, Law.” He hisses, eyes opening to see you peeking up at him, his cock throbs in your hand, “I need your mouth…please,” he groans. “Need my mouth where?” you tease. “O-on my cock, please, I need your mouth on my cock,” he pants. You chuckle, “Good boy,” and as you sink your mouth down onto his cock, his arm reaches over your back, grabbing your side, “A-aahhh- shit- your mouth feels so good, sweetheart.”

You glide your lips up and down his shaft, building a steady rhythm, occasionally taking him deeper, touching the back of your throat. You pause to relax your throat to take him further and he hisses, pushing his hips up into your mouth. You moan when his hand presses slightly on the back of your head, forcing a small gag from you, your grip on the base of his cock tightening slightly. His hand in your hair stops pressing and he holds on to it while you take back control. Bringing your lips back to his tip as you swirl your tongue, your hand working what couldn’t fit into your mouth, drool dripping down your wrist. You tease his tip continuously with each pass, making his toes curl, his abs tighten, getting lost in the gasps and moans you pull from the back of his throat. 

Coming up with a lewd pop as you pull his throbbing length from your mouth, you push his shoulders back to keep him leaning back on the couch as you throw your leg over him. Sitting on his lap, his spit soaked cock between you both, you lean up and grind your pussy on him. Leaning forward to capture his lips in yours as you spread your slick on his shaft. You reach down to line him up with your entrance, slowly pushing his fat tip in. You slowly sink down onto his length to the hilt, releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He reaches to grab the side of your face and your neck, pulling you into a ravenous kiss. You begin grinding your hips in a circular motion, eating his wanton moans. “Hold me tight, make me feel every inch of you,” you whisper.

A guttural moan is ripped from his throat as you grind yourself up and down his length as his arms wrap tightly around you. Your forehead is pressed to his as you lock eyes, fire in them. You pick up your pace until your hips and thighs burn, fueled to continue by Law’s unwavering grip on your hips and his moans each time you pull your clenching walls up to his tip and slam down. “Baby-baby-f-fuck,” his eyes are glistening as he watches you take all of him, over and over. You slow down, putting your finger under his chin forcing his gaze up at you, “I want you to look at me, baby. Look at me to see how good you feel. How good you make me feel. Can you do that?” He gulps, “Y-yes,” his strong hands grasping and kneading your hips, ass, and thighs. “Mmm, so good for me, Law, thank you baby.”

“Fu-uuck,” he stutters as he begins thrusting up into you. He’s pulling you so tightly into him, you don’t know where one begins and the other ends, you’re just melting into each other. “Hnng, you feel so good inside me, Law, keep going.” Spurred by your praise, he picks up his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin turning you both on even more. You feel your orgasm quickly approaching as you clench around Law’s cock. Both of you panting, “Fuck, you feel so good…I-I c-can’t stop,” his voice shaky as he loses himself in you.

His thrusts are growing needier as you moan praises, fire in your veins as he brings you closer to your climax. His eyes roll back when your hands reach for his shoulders as he fucks up into you. Your nails leaving crescent marks on them. You look down at him, his fucked out expression, determined to please you. He swears you're an angel, peering down at him, perfect in every way. He groans in euphoria at the sting of your nails, your clenching walls wrapped around him, as he fucks the shape of him into you. 

“F-fuck, Law, I need to cum, can you make me cum, baby?” You pant breathlessly. “Fuuuhhck-hhng-yes baby, let me,” he growls as he snakes his hand down to your clit, messily rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You feel him throb inside you as the touch makes you bite your lip to contain your screams, your cunt clenching hard as he works you to your orgasm.

“Please, baby, please give it to me, I need this,” he groans, maintaining his hungry gaze with yours, and you begin to tumble into the waves of electric pleasure that wash over you. “Fuuuck, don't stop, fuck me just like that,” you command. “Ah-ahhh-aghhhh,” he can no longer contain himself as he feels you flutter on his cock, using him for your pleasure. He stills for a moment as his release spills into you, pressed against your cervix. Sighs and moans of pleasure as he finishes with you. 

You're both spent, sweaty messes when his thrusts finally come to a stop. He pulls your lips to his, capturing your lips in a languid kiss. Your tongues swirl in a tired dance as you both come down from your highs. Panting into each other. “Thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for helping me,” he grumbles, half asleep from the energy expended from his emotions and your body. 

You hum at his words of affection pressing kisses on random places of exposed skin. “You needed stress relief, baby. I'm glad I could oblige. I'm always here for you. Again you don't have to do this all alone.” He brings you into a tight embrace again, as if he's what tethers you to this world. You stand up off of him to gather your clothes, quickly shimmying on your underwear and shorts and grabbing a small towel to clean yourselves off. 

You lay Law down on the couch, running your hand on his arm. “You stay here, rest. I'll take care of things for a bit,” pressing a kiss to his forehead. He leaves a sigh of relief. “What did I do to have you? Please…tell Shachi I'm sorry.” You squeeze his hand in reassurance and quietly leave the office as you hear his breathing even out. 

Only to be surprised by Penguin and Shachi just around the corner. “Ah!” you yelp, looking behind you, hoping you didn't wake Law up. “What the fuck are you two doing here?! Creeps!” They snicker, sharing a knowing glance between themselves. “Soooo,” Shachi chimes, hoping you have good news for him. “How's the Captain feeling?” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you squeeze your eyes shut. This is the shit he deals with….daily. You think to yourself. “Shachi….fucking…four rotations!” His bright eyes dim as his cheeky grin falters, his mouth agape. “W-what?! But-but- you were supposed to help me out!” As you walk away, Penguin is grabbing his stomach trying not to burst out in laughter, “Law took it back, but I'm giving it back because you're a fucking pervert! He sends his apologies!” You call out to him as you wave your hand goodbye. 

Taglist: @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99

Dividers by @cafekitsune

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[wooziorgans]

hey s2 soooo i was thinking about something and i know that you are the one to do this

woozi hasn't had the opportunity to eat you out yet, you've already done a lot but as you never mentioned it he thought you didn't want to or weren't comfortable yet, so one day when you're making out and he's starting to get horny he whispers "sit on my face" and now its up to you

k byeeee

— face sitting

good god. why do you always,,,,, do this. i love ur brain but also why god why me. also sorry this took me so long,,,, we r not gonna talk abt it.

you’ve been with jihoon for a few months, and in those few months, you’ve learned more about him than you did in the years of friendship. you know that he likes to eat, and he eats well, given the pure amount of muscle on him. you know that, while he says he’s not big on skin-ship, it’s a lie. one look from you, and he’s opening his arms to cuddle.

you know he loves his friends with his entire heart, and is willing to give them as much as he can in terms of support. you know he likes to go for walks late at night when he can’t sleep, or when he wants to simply enjoy some time outside with his thoughts.

what you’ve learned has been on the complete opposite of the spectrum. you know that jihoon likes to give, but this also extends to the bedroom. he’ll spend hours working you up, teasing you and then fucking you with his fingers before finally sinking his cock into you. he has this super human ability to make you cum, and he uses it to his advantage.

you’ve learned he likes getting head, but he’d much rather fuck you. you’ve learned that he’s a sensual kisser; he lets it linger before giving you anything solid to build off of. he makes you chase his lips, teasing you endlessly when you have the time.

you’ve also learned that his frustration with his job manifests itself sexually. he’ll perfectly service dom you through multiple orgasms as a way to relieve his stress. sometimes he’ll just pull you onto his lap and kiss you stupid until you’re grinding against his thigh, desperate for something more.

you love giving him head though, but he seems to be completely indifferent towards doing the same to you. it’s a little confusing, considering how much he seems to use his tongue in other ways with you. you know he’s skilled with his mouth, that much is evident from the way he kisses and sings.

today is just one of those days where jihoon wasn’t able to burn off enough steam at the gym. he’s frustrated over a moved deadline the company gave him, now having to work twice as hard to get things done. you finished work early, and jihoon invited you over to hang out.

you can tell from the lines on his face that you’ll be doing more than just ‘hanging out’, but it’s not like you mind. jihoon pulls you into his bed, the television in his room on. you’re cushioned in between his thick thighs, wrapped safely in his arms when he starts peppering soft kisses to your neck.

it makes you shiver, hands grabbing at his arms before you decide to rotate to straddle his thighs. jihoon rests his hands on your hips, pulling you close and in for a kiss. you return it eagerly, hands finding the sides of his face.

jihoon’s hands start wandering, pushing their way under your hoodie to graze the skin of your back. his tongue slips its way into your mouth, and you moan softly. this seems to do something to jihoon, and his hand slips down to grope your ass.

you make out for god knows how long, hips moving against each others as you kiss. jihoon seems to just drink in all of the small sounds you make, hands moving around to grab and squeeze whatever he can reach.

it all comes to fruition when you stop being able to kiss him, whining into his mouth as you grind on his thigh. “fuck, sit on my face.” jihoon whispers, pulling away for a second to just watch you take what you need from him. you stop immediately, pulling back further to look at him.

“sorry, what did you say?” you blink a few times at him, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“if you don’t want to, that’s okay. you’ve never really given me anything that suggested you’d be into that.” he back tracks immediately, face reddening as he realizes he said that out loud.

“no, repeat yourself. what did you say?” your hand brushes the side of his neck and he shivers, knowing he can’t get out of this.

“um, sit on my face?” it’s a question this time. his hesitancy makes you laugh softly as you brush his hair out of his face.

“god, jihoon,” you sigh softly, already dripping at the idea of him being tongue deep inside of you. “you’re sure?” you ask, fingers threading in his hair. he hums softly.

“yeah, fuck. wanna eat you out so bad, baby.” he coos, almost condescending as his hands grab at your sweatpants. you let him pull them down, underwear going with them. you shift off his lap to kick them off and jihoon takes the opportunity to slide down the bed so he’s lying down.

with your bottom half now exposed, you straddle his lap again, arousal seeping into his own sweats. he’s painfully hard in his sweats, cock straining against the fabric. he hisses when you sink down before his hands find you ass again.

he pulls you up, and you wiggle your way up the bed until you’re over his chest. “how do you want me?” you ask, unsure of if he wants you to face him or turn the other way.

“just like this is fine.” jihoon hums, pulling you closer to his face. he starts to tease your folds with two fingers, gathering your arousal with his fingers before he pushes them inside. you’re already wet enough for them to just slide in.

you moan at the intrusion, his other hand firm on your hips to keep you from moving. jihoon fucks them in and out of you slowly, watching the way you suck his digits in. he pulls them out after a few seconds, using both hands to pull you down onto his face.

jihoon sticks his tongue out, licking a long stripe over your folds. you react immediately at the warmth and wetness of his tongue, shivering as you let out a low moan. jihoon does it again, tongue gathering your arousal to pull it into his mouth. he moans softly, already completely in love with the way you taste.

jihoon’s nose brushes against your clit, and you jerk harshly, hands finding their spot in his hair. you smooth it out, moving it out of the way. he licks another stripe up your fold, this time stiffening his tongue to go deeper. his lips latch around your clit, suctioning to it and flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

jihoon focuses his attention on your clit, alternating different kinds of suction and patterns with his tongue to figure out what works. he brings his hand back up to your ass, kneading the skin softly before he pushes two fingers back inside of you.

it’s too much, all at once. the small noises he makes as he eats you out, the lewd, wet noises coming from his mouth, and his fingers pressing into your spot send you over the edge. you tighten your grip in his hair, head leaning against the headboard as you gasp out a warning.

jihoon keeps his pace steady on your clit as you cum, before he pulls his fingers out and laps at your release. it drips down his chin, but he can’t stop, even after you start to squirm in overstimulation.

you lift your hips up off his face before shifting to lay down beside him. jihoon pulls you into a kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. you whine into his mouth, hands grabbing at his cock through the fabric of his sweats.

jihoon pulls away, “give yourself a minute to breathe, love.” he coos. you nod, pushing your head against his chest. he strokes your hair softly, massaging your scalp. your hands still push their way under his sweats and into his boxers.

jihoon hisses softly. “you’re insatiable.” he moans, a breathy laugh falling from his lips.

“you started it.” you murmur, craning your head up to kiss his neck. maybe he did. either way, it’s gonna be a long night. especially with what you’ve just learned about your boyfriend.

[star2fishmeg]

ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴇʀɪғғ

Authors Note | Cowboy!Quinn headcanons for my Homegrown AU.

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who only refers to and addresses you as 'Darlin’ wherever, whenever as he honestly believes it’s what suits you best. He’s been in love with you since the day he met you and to him, you’re precious, his world and he wants everyone to know that. 

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who was given the nickname 'Sheriff' purely because he's the oldest brother with the responsibility of looking out for his siblings.

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who’s always cooking and will insist on cooking no matter what. It’s definitely a love language, wanting to ensure you’re fed with something made of love. He doesn’t think it’s a chore, he loves it, especially when you’re wrapping your arms around his middle while he’s the chef. Even if he’s visiting your family, he’ll gravitate to the kitchen and offer a hand, which your parents always refuse but he’s so charming they allow him in the end. However, if he comes home and you’re cooking for him, he’s not going to complain in the slightest, but he will refuse to let you clean up after.

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who claims to not be a dancer yet will take any opportunity to dance with you if the right songs come on. Unlike Jack, he’s not much of a line dancer (unless he’s with his friends and a few beers deep) but slow dancing at home is his kryptonite. He’s taking you by the waist in the kitchen, pulling you to his chest and slowly swaying to the music, softly whispering sweet nothings in your ear and cherishing the moment with his whole heart.

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who surprises you with flowers just because he can. He’s turning up at your door with some form of bouquet, whether it’s from the local market on his way through or wildflowers that reminded him of you, he’s going to present them. On occasions, he’ll bring your mother a bouquet too, which only makes him adored even more.

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who never raises his voice with you no matter what. He’s a rational guy with a level-head, he can keep his cool well and he doesn’t think raising his voice will solve problems. He also never wants to see or make you cry, preferring to gently talk things through. 

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who doesn’t need to try to impress you when he’s bucking hay bales. You’re impressed with him anyway, how he can make it look so easy, how the veins in his arms become more prominent. You can’t help but enjoy watching him and being his water girl. 

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who is the family mechanic. He teaches his brothers everything they need to know about their trucks, he always responds to your SOS when you’re breaking down and he loves every moment of getting his hands dirty. You think it’s hot, but he’ll never understand the appeal of the sweat and grease. 

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who teaches you how to play baseball, standing behind you closely, arms wrapping around yours and guiding your positioning, your swing, your hip rotation. He finds it endearing teaching you so you can join him and the others, but sometimes your mind wanders at his breath on your neck and voice husky in your ear.

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who is always thinking of you during rodeos, knowing his lover is in the crowd, cheering him on just gives him that extra boost of confidence when he’s out there. 

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who’s a huge napper. He’s an extremely hard worker and will not rest but every now and then, he allows himself a couple of hours to lie down. His favourite naps are the ones with you curled up in his chest and you’re both out cold. He can sleep anywhere as long as his hat’s covering his eyes and has one rule: don’t wake him up unless absolutely necessary, he’s a grumpy riser.

▸ Cowboy!Quinn who keeps a love note you wrote for him in the brim of his hat. Every now and then when he’s not feeling his best, he’ll read it and his heart swells in his chest again, a smile on his face and suddenly, he feels better.

nhl wags | @bunbunbl0gs @rowdyluv @bewaryofpity @wineauntie (To be added to taglists, just comment or ask via ‘pass me the puck!’) [Masterlist] [Requests CLOSED]

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[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 18)

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Prompt: Poisoned

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Vivid descriptions of illness; poisoning; worried!Bucky

Author’s note: Don’t ask me where this came from, I have no idea. But, thank you for reading! <3

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

You hear him pacing outside your chamber.

His boots strike the stone floor in sharp, angry bursts.

Occasionally, the sound halts, but his voice doesn’t. He’s fuming. It started with low, threatening murmurs that soon escalated into raised voices - or rather one raised voice. He didn’t really let anyone else come to word. You can only assume he’s talking to his guards.

He’s on edge. Has been ever since your first symptoms appeared.

It started this afternoon, as you and Bucky - or Prince James to everybody else - strolled through the palace gardens.

It had been a great day, a little cold, but not terribly so. You had been laughing with him, feeding the ducks by the pond and he had playfully threatened to throw you in there himself if you told Knight Samuel about the way he had picked up some flowers for you at the edge of the water. Your laughter after that wasn’t very lady like but it just got worse when he started chasing and tickling you.

But you started to feel it as the two of you settled under the big willow tree.

It was a discomfort in your stomach, an unease that settled and burrowed, deeper the longer you dismissed it.

Bucky, of course, had picked up on your shift immediately and rushed you back inside. By then you already were pale, clammy, and lightheaded.

Now, confined to your chambers by Bucky’s orders, you’re surrounded by an entourage of healers, endlessly fretting over your condition.

They hover at your bedside, fingers continuously brushing your forehead, checking your pulse, mixing tinctures, and murmuring theories to one another in hushed voices.

There are always at least two or three of them at any given time, a constant rotation that leaves you feeling scrutinized, yet strangely detached from their fussing.

You can’t even roll over without one of them pausing to announce it to your parents and Bucky

It feels as though every thirty seconds, someone is rushing out to deliver updates to him.

He demands to be told everything; the slightest change in your complexion; the smallest shift in your breathing. He refuses to let the healers leave anything unsaid. And he takes every single one of the smallest updates on your condition with a seriousness that could have made you laugh in any other circumstance.

His clipped and commanding tone drifts in from the hall and you feel a little bad for the people receiving it.

Normally, the prince is full of composure and control, but that only ever seems to shatter when it comes to you.

You picture him out there, bristling with anger, his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists as he barks orders and questions on how this could have happened. How you could have ended up falling ill.

He barely lets anyone else talk and when someone does, it doesn’t seem to be a good enough answer, judging the unmistakable sound of something heavy - perhaps a boot or a fist - striking a wall.

You wince again at the sharp pain tormenting your stomach. Your skin feels too cold one moment and burning hot the next, as though your body can’t decide whether to shake or sweat.

The faint dizziness from earlier has grown into a persistent haze that seems to move to your vision slowly, making it a little harder to get a clear picture. You try to blink it away.

There is a bitter taste at the back of your throat that no amount of water or tea can wash away.

The healers whisper words like poison when they think you’re too weak to hear them, but you hear them all the same.

The door to your chambers creaks open. The sound is urgent, and before you know it, Bucky is at your side. His movements are stiff, almost forceful, and though he likely doesn’t mean to, he brushes a healer away in his haste to get to you.

The poor man stumbles back, his hand still clutching the damp towel he’d been using to cool your fever.

But Bucky pays him no mind. His focus is singular, and he takes the towel himself.

With a tenderness that almost undoes you, he presses the cloth to your forehead. His touch is infinitely soft. It’s the kind of touch that aches.

He looks at you, you notice.

You feel it rather than seeing it. His gaze burns hotter than your fever does. Slowly, weakly you tilt your head to face him better. It takes effort. The hotness raging beneath your skin deliberately melts away your vision, making Bucky swim before you.

But you see enough. Enough to say that he left his furiousness outside in the hall. Here, inside, with you, this is just Bucky. Bucky as worried and unfiltered as he can get when it comes to you.

Your thoughts come slow. Lazily dragging through your mind and switching directions too often for you to latch onto something specific.

The towel brushes against your temple again, and though the coolness should bring relief, his touch you notice more.

His lips are moving, you realize when your eyes start to roam his face. He’s talking to you, but his voice is not yet fully meeting your ears. His words swim just like his face, in and out of reach.

You blink sluggishly, barely able to focus, but sounds start to come in.

He, like the healers before says something about poison. And it’s not the word that leaves the pain in your chest, it’s the way he says it. With his voice so quivery and rough.

“-slow-acting poison-” you catch again, with the same tone. “-subtle enough no one noticed it until it was too late.”

He calls your name then, and you blink a few times. The heavy blue of his eyes builds its picture in your mind and you try so much to focus.

He is breathing heavily. His lips are parted. His brows are knit together and his face is morphed in a grimace of desperation and pain as he still lets his eyes sear a hole through you.

He drops his head for a moment, exhaling sharply. He releases an anguished sound with it and clears his throat. He seems to be trying to focus too, just for other reasons.

“The testers,” he continues, and the sharp pain punctures your stomach again. Because the thickness in his voice sounds too much like guilt to you. So much guilt. “They… they are in the same condition as you. Same symptoms, same timeline.”

A shaky breath rattles out of him again as he swipes the towel over your forehead once more, dabbing your skin.

His eyes flicker over your face. There is a wetness to them. His pupils can’t stay in place, moving swiftly between your own eyes as if he’s searching for signs in you. Shadows spill across his gaze, fear trembling in the sheen of his watery blues.

“I should have caught this.” His voice is a whisper but it sounds like gravel.

He can’t go down that road again right now. Not when you’re in no condition to protest and argue with him as you normally would.

You even have problems swallowing. You have to put effort into blinking.

There is no way you can tell him that this is in no way his fault.

His hand curls into a fist against your bed. “I should have known something wasn’t right,” he only continues.

He did know. He knew the second your eyebrows began to crease ever so slightly by the swift pain pouncing on your stomach.

There is no way he could have known earlier.

But you can’t tell him that.

Your voice is a fragile thing right now, not even able to build up deep inside.

Bucky shakes his head again, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. All you can do is watch. Well, try to watch.

“I’ve got the guards tearing this place apart - every pantry, every kitchen, every bloody corner. Somebody did this. Somebody thought they could hurt you, and I am going to find them.” His voice hardens with each word, but his hand softens as he reaches for yours. He threads his fingers through yours so gently and carefully, it doesn’t help with trying to breathe evenly.

“I will make them pay.” It sounds so determined, so terrifying if you were any other person.

His thumb strokes over your knuckles, while the towel still pads your face. It’s slow, and steady, grounding himself as much as you.

“But right now… right now, all that matters is you. I need you to fight this, alright? Darling? I need you to stay with me.” His voice cracks. It buckles, just not with the grace he is known for, but unevenly and unceremoniously. His next breath stumbles over itself and his gaze drops to your hand in his as though he’s ashamed to let you see the whole of his fear.

Your chest rises and falls in a slow, shallow breath, and as you exhale with an unsteadiness, it feels like you’re letting go of something you can’t quite name. The faint sound catches his attention immediately and his head snaps back up to you, again searching your eyes, your face, your body.

They don’t stray from you for a few heartbeats, as though he’s afraid he’ll lose you if he looks away for even a second.

Bucky straightens up, his presence suddenly larger. He leans closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of him bushing over your fevered skin. His free hand uncurls from his fist, white knuckles, going up to your face.

Soft fingers sweep back the strands of hair that cling to your damp face. The motion is unhurried, almost delicate, and for a moment, the coolness of his touch - or rather, his touch alone - is the only thing keeping the fading light of your awareness on for some time longer.

His thumb lingers at your temple, tracing lightly, and it is astounding to you that he managed to make you forget about the poison cursing through your veins for a tiny second.

His heart seems to have spilled entirely into his gaze because the emotions drowning there overwhelm you. They’re so deep, so afraid, so concerned. All you want is to grant him a reassuring smile. But your lips fail you.

“You are going to be okay.” It’s a plea and a promise. He speaks as if saying it out loud will carve it into stone - will make it reality. “This will not take you away from me. I’ve got you. I am right here. Please. You are going to stay with me.”

He leans closer still, as if closing the distance makes his words sink deeper, might make them take root into your fading consciousness.

His hand stays on your face, his other hand still holding the towel, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His touch is steady, although his voice isn’t.

There is a fire in his eyes, an unyielding resolve burning beneath the fear like he’s daring the universe to take you from him.

And you won’t let it take you, you tell yourself.

You will stay with him.

But you just need some sleep at the moment. And when you wake up, you will fight this unwelcome substance in your system.

But first, you have to get some sleep.

Just a little sleep.

[saetiate]

itoshi sae x reader comfort, established relationship. cw: mentions of reader's past trauma and past physical abuse. reader has grown up with 19 years of abusive trauma (this is the only specific bit and is only said once, the rest is general). sae is aware of this trauma, so he does not have his usual possible 'cruelty' (shall we say) that you might associate with him depending on how you characterize him. he is trying on purpose for you. selfship coded but written generally

a plate falls. a pang that for once, sounds soft, in a way it never has before. not like it did the first nineteen years in your life, making your heart jackrabbit, a deafening noise that followed a deafening silence that would follow with deafening screaming.

a plate falls from the side of the counter to the floor, you move but you don't catch it in time. you watch it tip and spin and fall and you know your heart is meant to fall with it but this time, the absence of it feels off. there's that silence you know all too well, a silence that would usually fill your stomach with dread, that you know follows with having you at your knees, bent over with pain shooting through your body over and over again, your crying body still staring at the broken fragments.

there's none of that. there is a hand, but it is nothing like the hands before. it is gentle at the crux between your neck and your shoulder. the squeeze it gives is comforting.

how strange, to be granted with something like that, something like comfort and warmth, for a mistake you made. how strange, that comfort can feel like a cut, something you know is inherently wrong — your brain mismatching the feelings given with the ones you hold.

you know, that being given comfort is not meant to make you feel this strange, curling feeling, like the fear of falling. it doesn't change how you feel. you know and you have learned and that in of itself doesn't heal anything. how messed up is that?

there's a shuffling, and then a paper bag is being given to you. you move, then, crouching to grab at the pieces. sae's hand waves in front of you for a moment. you don't know what he sees, you don't dare to look at him. you don't want to know if it's filled with pity, or disappointment. it's probably neither, given his usual nonchalant demeanor, but you can't risk it. you can't risk looking.

whatever he sees, he doesn't move to stop you this time (he has before. before, he has held your hands in his and asked you to sit down. before, you were a shaking rabbit in his arms with tears biting your lower lashline and a trembling lip. today is not that day. it's finally, not that day anymore). he helps you instead. there's a broom in your hands, and then a wet towel, and then…

and then the floor is clean.

"food's on the table." his voice is calm, despite everything. despite everything? what's that supposed to mean? why does a thought like that still cross your mind?

"that's what you were going for, right?" he continues. you're staring at the floor, where the plate had been. if you hadn't been, you'd notice the way he was trying to meet your gaze. "to put some food on a plate and on the table?"

"yeah. thank you."

"did you want a drink too?" he hums noncommittally. "i can make something."

"no, it's fine. i can do it myself."

i can do it myself. this time, you mean it. this time, it's really true. said with a kind of conviction.

he looks at you for a second, and then there's a gentle "okay."

"are you mad at me?"

you ask him this at the table, a whole ten minutes of silence after the whole ordeal.

"why would i be?" he tilts his head. that's the thing about sae, his words tend to be genuine. blunt, sometimes, but he doesn't tend to lie. when you look at him, you can find no hidden motives, no matter how hard you search.

"it's normal," he continues. he sounds like he's been thinking of how to say it, rotating the words in his mind like a hamster wheel. his mouth moves with unsurety, eyebrows furrowed, so foreign in comparison to his usual grace. "to drop things sometimes."

normal. you remember the bowl that sae himself had broken just a couple months ago, how it split into two pieces in the sink. how he had even given his version of a joke about how there's only one of these bowls left, because rin had broken the same one half a year ago when he came to visit, and you had broken that bowl over a year ago, the time he had held your shaking hands.

the meal finishes. he clears the plates and does the dishes. he sits with you on the sofa and you watch a show together.

there's no punishment. there's no yelling. there's a blanket draped over you both and his arm around yours and the afternoon sun.

normal, he calls it. but even after all these years, the warmth feels new to you all the same. there's an upside, of course. you find it like sunlight passing through the trees. that being: you're able to be grateful for it, to hold him close and bask in it.

author's note: i thought about not adding the 19 years bit but... i couldn't phrase this in a way that made me happy without it.

wow, exposing my traumatic and abusive childhood to the internet. i was indeed in a cycle of abuse for the first nineteen years of my life, physical and mental and emotional and financial all at once from families to friends to significant others, and i'm in my mid 20s now. which means i've spent about 5+ years healing from that. i'm still healing. my heart does not drop at a falling glass anymore. but i notice how it doesn't drop. the absence of it. i wanted to capture that

(also i imagine a lot of people reading this don't know me like that but this is my first time talking about this. i don't want to be seen as having like a victim complex or something? i'm a very independent girl (i have a capricorn moon and rising if that gives context) and this is my writing blog where i am using writing to explore my feelings.)

[sherbertquake56]

okay I’m dropping some of my fable arcane au thoughts before the new episodes drop tomorrow even tho most of it is based on season 1 anyway—

so some basic taggings for you that I based the AU around:

1. Icarus as Jinx.

powder vs jinx is just the sherbert vs icarus name thing. toxic father. unhealthy relationship with sibling. a lil crazy and maybe evil. thinks that they are at fault for the things around them. lil bombs? nah- little SPLASH potions. hearing and seeing mylo and claggor? it’s Haley- it’s literally Haley—

2. Fable as Silco.

okay fable’s design WAS partially inspired by silco— they literally look the same— they’re both a man with two priorities: take over and make his own nation & care for child.

you know the ending scene of season 1? where they’re sitting at the table? THAT. With Jinx assuming that he’s gonna give her up to topside and him getting the first chance to talk and saying “her name is JINX!” i could write an essay on that for icarus. they’re so toxic and it’s so perfect. also that scene at the start of s2 ep2? YEAH THAT—

3. Centross as Ekko

This one is controversial and up to debate but i will die on this hill— SO THE S1 BRIDGE FIGHT. I am so willing to put aside any possible prison duo gay-ness in this AU for that rivalry/fight. they were friends!!! they were so good!! and now they wanna KILL EACH OTHER!! it’s great.

It’s also specifically thinking of Ekko’s tree home as solstice— older Ekko very much has the vibe of Violet specifically-

4. Arisanna as Sevika

I DONT KNOW WHY BUT IT MAKES SENSE TO ME. It’s specifically vexed Ari during the coworkers era but idk it just feels right— I look at her relationship with Silco and Jinx and go ‘hmmm this could be something’

[I will also say there is an argument here for swapping Centross and Ari tho— big tree city as Ari rebuilding the records goes hard, and angsty fighty toxic with jinx centross is also good— it’s like 50/50 for me]

5. Isla as Vander

LET ISLA BE A BADASS IN THIS AU. SHE DESERVES IT— something something raising vi and powder alone, something something the backstory with silco— there’s something there and it hits really hard in scenes where vi sees vander and helps her get back up— also I look at jinx and vander and I go “mmmm this is in fact how icarus sees Isla”

6. Rae as Vi

This was obvious given the above but LISTEN— in this ALTERNATE UNIVERSE OF EVENTS I think it would be fun- do I think that vi perfectly fits canon rae? no. But in this world it would KICK ASS. rae deserves to beat some people up— got kicked out of the overworld (zaun) by fable (silco) and had to go to the end (piltover) to get away from him?? rae end prince aus are already here so why not end rae also punching people huh??? also. gay people.

———

Okay— here’s where I need some help, thoughts, and opinions from you all…

1. Caitlyn.

POLYAMORY IS HARD TO TAG AND I DONT KNOW WHO FITS BEST?? For me, season 1 Caitlyn fits best as Caspian, but season 2 Caitlyn is more for Fenris— so I’m very stuck. yes absolutely give thoughts on this please—

2. Viktor as Aax (but how does that work)

Viktor absolutely should be Aax— mr. Scientist / lab experiment / turned religious figure vessel for god is CORRECT. But honestly the rest of Piltover gang is really hard with Rae as Vi— Jayce/Viktor/Mel is yelling at me to be the polycule but aGH— ya know??? very stuck on this so I instead look at the coworkers and go “mm good yes—”

Random other tags I think also make sense:

- Ulysses as that Telchin looking mf Stev— mans took out one lil medical device as his fish self and I said YUP

- The hexcore big orb thing underground as Quixis— big white glitch orb room make things go wack. couldn’t be easier than that.

———

Anyways that’s all— I’ve been rotating this in my mind for like a week and have had way too many thoughts about it thank you for your time—

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: I'm tryna rotate as much as possible.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Her name is Margot. She’s talkative but kind. She guides you through everything with patience. Tells you when to close your eyes and look up, how to hold your head, when to pucker your lips. She even explains exactly what she’s doing and why she’s doing it. Despite her demeanour, you still feel utterly stupid. Rather, you feel inadequate. 

Another woman shows up shortly after, as a brush traces the line of your cheek. She introduces herself as Darla, she has a whole rack of dresses lined up for you. Another inward cringe threatens to compress your lungs. 

As Darla presents you with options, you find it hard to breathe. It’s all so overwhelming, especially as a third woman, Erica, appears to do your hair, and a fourth, Nia, to tend to your nails. You could faint as you’re pushed, pulled, and prodded from all sides. 

“I like the red,” Margot suggests as you hem and haw.  

The dresses are all nice but you don’t even know what you’re picking it for. Honestly, none of them suit you. Too much skin for your liking. Not that that stays much; your comfort is jeans and baggy tees.  

Erika hums, “what about the teal, lovey? I do think you’d look marvelous with those cutouts.” 

“Yes, it is a pretty colour. You have the complexion for it,” Darla remarks. 

They’re all so nice but there’s something pitying in their voices. You feel like a child. You don’t belong here. You especially don’t belong with Bucky, apparently, he knows that too. Why else would he have these women plucking and picking at you? 

Margot finishes and brings you a mirror. As you see yourself, you blanch. It’s not bad. In fact, she’s done better than you could ever manage but you don’t look like yourself. You don’t feel like yourself. If he wants you to be someone else, you don’t think you can do that. 

You feel yourself shrinking. Your shoulders slump and you wilt, stuttering but unable to say a word. Margot touches your shoulder. 

“What is it? Hon, have I done something wrong?” 

“No, no,” you croak and bring your hands to your throat, “it’s nice. Really nice but... I need some air.” 

“Of course, Darl, Nia,” she shoos away the stylist pinning your hair, “let her up.” 

The women back off and the fourth watches you from the rack, still holding a sparkly black get-up. You search the room and swiftly head for the door. You let yourself into the hall, fanning yourself with your half-done acrylics. You’re happy at least they aren’t long. 

You pace back and forth, watching your feet pass over the pattern of the hotel carpet. You can run. You could just leave right now. The thought only makes your stomach hurt. No, you can’t. Not after he’s gone to all this trouble. You’d hate to seem ungrateful. 

You continue your incessant laps back and forth outside the door. You hear footfalls from around the corner and pause. You should go back in before someone sees you. You grab the handle. Shoot, it’s locked. You wiggle it as a shadow appears at the end of the hall. You gulp and peer down. 

It’s him. You lean on the door and face Bucky. He wears a dark blue jacket over a black shirt and black pants. There’s patterning sewn into his jacket, subtle spirals all around. His dark hair his combed back to the ends flip out behind his ears and his dark beard glints with silver strands, a patch more obvious on his chin. He’s strikingly handsome. So much so, you can’t understand why you’re there. 

His brows form a vee as he nears and he tilts his head, a tick in his cheek, “what’s going on, doll?” 

“Um, just... locked out,” you turn the handle again to emphasize your point. 

“No, what’s....” he looks at you and gestures up and down with his hand, “no, this won’t do.” 

You blink and pout. After all that and you’re not good enough. He raps on the door with his knuckles and there’s some scuffing from inside before Margot opens it. She steps back to let you in and greets Bucky by name. 

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he urges you ahead of him, his hand firmly around your arm, “it’s too much. She doesn’t need all this. I told you, just a little enhancement. I don’t want her looking like a Barbie.” 

“Sorry, sir, it’s... standard.” 

“Doll,” he stops you with him as he plants himself near the racks of dresses. The women watch him anxiously. “What do you think? The make up; you like it?” 

You peer around and stare at Margot. She worked so hard and it isn’t that it’s bad work. She made you look gorgeous but you just don’t like all the layers. You slant your mouth one way then the other. 

“Be honest,” he insists. 

“I... It’s pretty but a bit... heavy?” You eke out. 

“I agree,” he lets you go, “I appreciate the hard work, Marg, but I want to see her natural beauty shining. And these dresses...” he turns, “these aren’t right. I said light. I said... Mm, no. Doll, what’s your favourite colour?” 

He faces you as you stand in shock. You feel horrible that he’s reproaching them like this. They’ve done all this for you and he’s just going down a list of everything wrong. 

“Erm, purple, I guess but--” 

“Darla, get her something purple. Lavender? Lilac?” He looks at you for confirmation and you just nod. You won’t correct him. “Erica, finish her hair, something a bit less... stuffy. Margot, clean her face up. Nia, the nails are looking good.” He turns to you and takes you by the shoulders, “and you, all you gotta do is be your cute little self, alright?” 

You gulp and nod. You don’t know what to say. He saves you from a response as he brings his hand up under your chin. He leans in to kiss you and your cheeks flame at the awareness of your audience. He pulls back and caresses your cheek before parts completely. 

He checks his watch, “don’t got all night.” 

He marches off, leaving you dumbfounded. He’s like a hurricane, coming in and blowing everything out of sorts. You look around guiltily. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Margot assures with a smile, “come, let’s get you fixed up, dahling.” 

She beckons you over and sits you back down. You give your hand back to Nia to finish the manicure as Erica once more goes to work on your hair. You stare at the wall and let out a nervous sigh. 

“That’s cute,” Margot says, “the way he looks at you.” 

“Hm, yeah,” Erica agrees, “he definitely has the eyes for ya.” 

You close your eyes as Margot gently wipes away the make up with a cool cloth from a package. You shrug, trying not to move too much, “he’s nice. He... did all this. Just for me. I... I didn’t ask for it. I’m sorry he didn’t like it.” 

“No, baby,” Nia says, “this isn’t about us. It’s about you. What do you like?” 

You open your eyes again and frown. That’s a good question. You lower your gaze to your lap and exhale heavily. 

“I’m figuring it out,” you murmur, “I don’t... I don’t get out much.” 

“Oh, this must be so exciting for you,” Erica trills, “oh, how fun.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time,” Nia adds, “don’t be nervous. Just enjoy yourself.” 

“Can’t be that hard,” Margot clucks, “on a handsome man’s arm, pretty as a bow,” she cleans her brushes as she talks, “it’ll be a great night. I’m thinking...” she peruses her chest of makeup, “natural tones. A dewy look. Natural, subtle.” 

“Okay, uh, yeah,” you agree, “that sounds nice.” 

“Hmmph,” Erica hums, “she’s a sweetie, isn’t she, ladies?” 

“Nicer than the last one,” Nia cackles. 

You stiffen and shift in the chair. You look at the nail tech then Margot as she compares a tube to your face and shakes her head. You push your lip against your teeth and let it flick out. 

“Last one?” You whisper. 

The women share a look and smile, “well, Mr. Barnes is notorious. Surely, you know.” 

“Oh,” you think of the headlines you scrolled through online, “well, yes, I know. I guess... I didn’t catch what you meant.” 

“Enjoy it. I’m sure you’ll get a few pretty baubles out of it,” Nia says, “and some memories to long for when you’re old like us.” 

“Old,” Margot scoffs, “speak for yourself.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I know. I’m just... another girl.” 

“Oh, dahling,” Margot intones, “but he seems really fond of you, doesn’t he? Maybe he’ll keep ya around a bit longer, eh?” 

You just sit there. You knew better than to believe it was anything but the obvious but it’s still a hard pill to swallow. You stare blindly ahead as Margot remoisturizes your skin. 

“Didn’t mean to upset you,” Margot says. 

“I’m not, I just...” you swallow, “I’m nervous.” 

“Mm, nervous? Well, I think that’s what the bar is for. Erica, fetch some of that rose. She needs a glass, Stat.” 

Your mouth opens to protest but you think better of it. You’ve already caused them enough trouble. You thank them instead and try not to let your shame burn through. They know why you’re there and they’ve left no doubt in you of the same. 

“Make sure to pour me some too,” Margot chirps. 

🃏

You stop after one glass. It makes your inside bubbly and eases the tension just enough that you’re not jittering. You feel better but still not certain. 

The women confirm your fears. This isn’t going to last. It’s not like you didn’t expect as much but hearing it is all the more real. You’re going to have to come up with yet another lie to tell. This one will hurt the most because it will be at least halfway true; you’re still a loser. 

You’ll try to take their advice. You’ll enjoy this night; this once in a lifetime experience. You don’t think you’ll ever be in a casino again in your life. They’re not for you. All of this is just above you. It’s better suited to someone like your sister. You can’t help but wonder why it isn’t Roxie here. 

The clock ticks. Well, not truly. The digital numbers count down the minutes as you linger in the suite alone. The gaggle of women left only a few minutes ago but not without a promise that you’re happy. You are, at least with all they did for you. 

You approach the mirror, almost shying away from your own reflection. You look nice. You might even call yourself pretty. Your eyes look more brilliant with the subtle lining and the precisely coated lashes; not too heavy. And your lips, shiny but natural, your cheeks dewy with a hint of colour to them.  

And the dress. Lavender satin with crystals embedded in the fabric, lines of smaller ones interconnecting the larger stones. You turn and check your figure. You look grown up. It’s ridiculous to think but you do. The heels help, not too high but enough to define your legs. 

You turn and tear your gaze away from the mirror. You don’t want to be vain. Besides, you probably don’t look that good. You just look better than usual. The comparison is enough to skew your perception. 

As you teeter on the heels, waiting, for what, you don’t exactly know. You can surmise what it will all lead to. What he intends. You can’t deny it any longer. A man doesn’t do all this for altruistic mean and even you aren’t that pitiful. Well, you hope not. 

A knock at the door trips you up. Your heart lurches. You’re not ready. But it’s getting late and you know it’s inevitable. You can’t move or speak. You just stare towards the door. 

You hear it open. You blink a Bucky’s shadow appears on the carpet and he strides into your sight. Your eyes meet his and his blue irises sparkle as he sees you. He stops and put his hand to his chest. His forehead lines and he bites his lip. 

“Wow, doll,” he rasps breathily and slowly steps forward, “you look...” 

You press your hands to your sides and give a toothy expression, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. Sweat speckles along your neck as his gaze bores into you. You’re even more self-conscious as he closes in. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. 

“What don’t you know?” He asks as he reaches for you and takes your hand. He draws you near, “huh? Look at you, doll.” He purrs, “you look spectacular.” His other hand grazes down your side and he squeezes your hip as he holds you at arm’s length and ogles you, “mm, damn. You wanna know what I know?” 

You peer up at him from beneath your lashes, “what?” 

“That you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I’m a lucky man to have you walking the floor with me tonight,” he drops your hand and frames your other hip, drawing you to him, “I have half a mind to keep you up in this room.” 

You choke. Your lower lip trembles and you shake your head, “that’s nice but...” you look away. 

“But? You don’t believe me, doll? You think I’d lie?” He challenges. 

“N-no, I didn’t say—but--- before---” you sputter and put your hands on his forearms, “there were others and they were prettier.” 

“Doll, don’t worry about before. This is now. You aren’t them and I’m telling you, you are beautiful,” he trails his hand up and nudges your chin. You look at him again, your cheeks shaking as you try to smile. “Here.” 

He takes your hand, his eyes clinging to yours as he watches you. You can’t look away. Not this time. He leads your hand up his jacket and slips it beneath. He presses it to his chest. You feel the taut muscle beneath and something else. 

“You got my heart racing, doll,” he growls. “That ain’t a lie.” 

[unidentified-moe-object]

Fuck it, it's late, and I wanna go to sleep, but I probably won't be able to until I've properly articulated this somewhat batshit gender social theory I've been rotating in my mind for a while now - I think that the current "crisis of masculinity" in the western world was catalysed by the invention of the nuclear bomb. Note that this post is unfiltered, unedited brain noise and bullshit

So, essentially, traditionally masculine personality traits are good for being a hunter or a soldier, but they kinda suck for anything else. If you want to, like, function in modern society, traditonally feminine personality traits are much better for that. This is why we see, for example, girls consistently outperforming boys in schools these days.

Now, in ye olde days(tm), society actually needed to have 50% of the population as potential soldiers to throw into a meatgrinder for a few square miles of dirt every 20 or so years. But at the end of WW2, the nuclear bomb was invented, and suddenly great power conflicts are something that no-one can win and are to absolutely be avoided at all costs.

So, given that a proper great power conflict will probably cause the extinction of humanity, society doesn't really need to have that many soldiers anymore. But people still haven't gotten the memo yet, and are still conditioning half of the population into soldiers from birth. And what do soldiers do when they don't have a war to fight? The recurring historical problem is that a lot of them become bandits.

The only real solution to this is *wesker voice* complete global feminisation. That is to say, the abandonment of traditionally masculine personality traits and the embrace of traditionally feminine ones. So long as we remain shackled to the corpse of masculinity, we'll never be able to move forward. This will likely be a very slow process, taking place over the course of hundreds of years and not being complete until long after anyone reading this post is dead, because frankly like 95% of people - man or woman - do not want this to happen, they want men to continue being traditionally masculine. There's a lot of societal inertia that has gotten us into this mess. This change will only happen as, gradually, over the course of many generations, people stop wanting that.

Notes:

This is one of the things that frustrates me about reactionary masculine gender influencers. By trying to bring about a great masculine revival and encouraging men to be more masculine, they are harming the very people they claim to represent, they are encouraging people to become more maladapted to the society they live in, whereas becoming more feminine would be becoming better-adapted

Japan might be a bit ahead of us here. Feminine traits in men are depicted as positive and even romantically desirable in a way you just don't see in English-language works. I suspect that if an English-language writer were to try to do that it'd come off as kinda preachy, as if they were trying to convince *themselves* to be attracted to those traits. Whereas Japanese-language writers don't need to do that because they genuinely do find it attractive.

Alright, actually going to bed now

[somegirlontheinternet135]

I didn't expect a post about a dating sim x click & point adventure game with The Beasts to be this popular but. . .

*random gestures*

So here you go, some thoughts & features that could be added to this weird fangame I conjured up!

(tw: long)

~General~

The world that the player teleported into heavily mirrors the land of beast yeast, complete with each of the landmarks which the beasts resign in. One exception however is at the center of this mysterious land is a forest of silver trees, which surround a strange alter of six stone standing pads, five little stones around a much larger stone in the middle (wonder what that's about?)

Somewhere amidst the silver woods is a mysterious grove, a grove filled with lilies. If adventurous enough, the player can explore the grove, but be warned, for not only do the scent of lilies cause drowsiness and the possibility of passing out, but lilies aren't the only thing that the land houses. The grove is peerless maze, so the player must enter with caution

The story length will be similar to how Obey Me is set up (divided into different chapters) with the first three to four chapters introducing the Beasts

There's no "canonical" choice of who'll you'll end up with, that's entirely up to the player. Another choice the player will have is whether the relationships can be platonic or romantic

Although many MCs are mostly left blank slates, I want the player in the sort of grey area between having an actual personality but leaving details vague enough to leave people guessing. Think the MC from "Obey Me" crossed with Yuu from "Twisted Wonderland" And you know many MCs are often nice and kind-hearted, well sorta throw that out the window bc we're doing something special(snarky, sarcastic, brutality honest, and filled with trust issues)

There's only snippets of what the player physically looks like(trust me, this'll be important later)

It's also important that the player has zero memory of entering the world they were basically isekaed into, something which the beasts learn one way or another. . .

The player will receive several petnames from the beasts, ranging from simple ones like "dear" or "sweetheart," to petnames relating to mice and other rodents(ie: "Little Mouse," "Pika," even "Pipsqueak")

In the game, the day-night cycle plays a big role in the gameplay. You'll be allowed to roam and explore as much as you want, but at night, you're given the choice of whether you should go to bed or keep exploring. If the player chooses to continue exploring, they'll be met with an energy meter, which increases when you sleep and decreases when you don't. With a full bar, the player can explore a total of five times, and once that meter runs out, they get too exhausted and fall asleep

Now would be a good time to mention the player's different bedrooms. They rotate based on the location, but they're meant to be a sort of safe space for the player, it's also the area where they pick up an important item: A journal

The journal functions very similarly to a scribble board and an actual notebook but serves one purpose, to allow the player to take notes on certain puzzles. Different puzzles are scattered across the landmarks, some are extremely difficult and require one to jot notes

I also like to think the player would receive a variety of tools during their journey and will each be essential. Which would lead the player to carry a bag to hold said items

For the purpose of the story, the player is able to respawn if they die. Remember the alter in the silver tree forest, they wake up there like nothing happened, although they do still retain the memories of said death

The player will engage in several minigames, the most common of them being a cooking style game where you prepare meals and ones where your using certain tools. Whilst the click & point portion consists of the player exploring the different areas & interacting with their surroundings

As a bonus, the player is gifted different outfits from the beasts, each one corresponding to the beast, their interests, and their theme

~Shadow Milk~

In the many eyes of Shadow Milk, the player is the only cookie he's seen in a while, so it's obvious he'd want them to be his audience, if you ever so chose to be. They get the option of asking more & trying to convince him on letting them have a turn in performing, which he'll have different reactions to

*You're reading the scripts of one of Shadow Milk's plays, in awe at the material. You compliment his work, making him all the more flattered*

"Oh I love acting! Your script is amazing, could I try acting some things out?"

*Hearing the question, Shadow Milk snatches the script from your hands. He almost snaps at you*

"What? No, of course not!"

"I'm sorry my dear, I adore your praise but. . . we've already established who the audience is! It's the key tool of any actor's career, and without that, we'd just be two actors with no one to entertain. . ."

"Besides, I think you'd have trouble trying to impress such a seasoned performer like myself~"

Despite his condescending comments, he slowly begins to let you act out small skits as their relationship with him becomes stronger, and he begins to cave

Shadow Milk has several references to acting, the stage, and plays, it would be a sin to not give this man a rhythm game. Similar to already existing rhythm games like "Rhythm Heaven" or the rhythm game portion in "Obey Me"

Every task, no matter how minimal or simple, becomes way more difficult with Shadow Milk. If you're just as much as a theater kid as he is, his need for literally everything to be a grand, exaggerated, obnoxious spectacle, especially around the player, is strong. Half the time, things don't go his way & he winds up making a mess, messes which the player is forced to clean up

Also, most everything he does requires a quick "costume change" thems the rules. He's cooking you breakfast? He's wearing a bright pink apron with frills and a heart-shaped pocket. You get hurt and scrape your knee? Here comes Dr. Shadow Milk in his doctor's uniform and stethoscope. The two of you are getting ready for bed? You'll be seeing him in striped pajamas, an extremely long nightrobe, fuzzy slippers and a sleep mask, including hair curlers

There will absolutely be no sneaking out on his domain, not on his watch! Shadow Milk, with his abilities, is a living security system, and reacts heavily to sound. So one snap of a twig or step on some creaking floorboards and it's over!

"*Ahem!*"

*A freakishly familiar voice is heard from behind you. Breaking into a sweat, you slowly turn around, the smallest part of you wished it wasn't who you thought it was. . . But as luck would have it, you didn't know any other crazy entertainers. . . Sure enough, it was exactly who'd you expected to see, Shadow Milk stood in front of you, arms crossed and everything*

"Just where do you think you're going?"

*You try playing it cool, although sweating a bit*

"Oh hey Shadow. . . I was just about to head out and-"

"Head out? At this time?!"

"I-I'm not gonna be gone for too long! I'll come right back after promise- *ah!*"

*Shadow Milk had already scooped you up, carrying you bridal style*

"That's quite enough! I can't have my only audience member getting drowsy during one of my shows, now can I?~"

*You were embarrassed beyond belief, even more once he started walking you to your room, and abruptly boops you on the nose*

"It's off to bed with you little mousey!~"

". . . ok(;w;). . ."

He takes much pride & joy in inconveniencing the player, purely for his own entertainment. What makes it worse is that he'll always find some sort of excuse, saying how it's "to punish them" and "to teach them how to do it right," just some of the lies they have to deal with

And that's not all, you think he started there? nope! He started lying to the player the second the two of them met. Seeing the player scared and alone in his domain, he didn't miss an opportunity to mess with the player's head. Fortunately, this does change as you begin to get closer with him, he starts being more open with the player

The outfit Shadow Milk gives the player is, although the tackiest thing on earthbread(if the player decides that it is), the most practical of the outfits they'll receive. It has a sort of German fairytale vibe to it, covered head to toe in ruffles, lace, bells, overly detailed designs, and of course, colored blue. It looks like, feels like, and is a costume, but despite its cheesy appearance, it's easy to run & move in

Out of all the beasts, Shadow Milk is the one who cares the most for the player's physical well-being. He's always making sure the player's eating enough, getting sleep, and most importantly, is happily entertained. It's been far too long since he was able to put on his plays, and he's gonna make sure they have the ability to sit through them

All and all, Shadow Milk is a well-meaning, all be it annoying, roommate

~Eternal Sugar~

She was always keen on learning most of the trickster's secrets, so finding out about the player, she became both upset yet understanding. Shadow Milk was the Cookie of Deceit after all

Regardless, Eternal Sugar found it quite unfair of him to keep them all to himself, and took it upon herself to steal the player away, via using one of her clouds

*While wandering by yourself within Shadow Milk's domain, you peer up at the unearthly, but normally blue sky, to see what seemed to be clouds suspiciously hovering over you*

Bewildered and curious, the player has the decision of either ignoring it or checking it out, but each will end in the clouds scooping up the player and taking them, all the way to Eternal Sugar Cookie

First meeting the player, she's admittingly unimpressed with what she sees, to think something so important to them would be reduced to such a simple creature. . ? But that mindset quickly changes as she discovers how adorable the player is, and just how naive they are. . .

She views the player as some sort of pet, spoiling them with all the goodies they can ever want, to a point where its almost overwhelming

*On a table, a large platter of sweets is set in front of you; you're almost tooken back by the sheer size of the dish, it was almost half the size of the table! Just sitting next to you was Eternal Sugar, smiling almost amusingly at your reaction*

"U-Uh. . . Is this all for me. . ?"

*She giggled*

"Of course it is dear! What sort of guest would you be if you didn't receive such delicacies?"

*Eternal Sugar picks up a sweet from the platter and holds it close to your mouth*

"Now, open wide~"

Unlike the other beasts, Eternal Sugar has the habit of babying the player, so like Shadow Milk, every simple task becomes way more difficult with her around. She'll make sure they won't be able to lift a finger!

Her associative minigame fits her sort of style, a memory game using cards, similar to the many games you can find on those "Kid-friendly Newgrounds" websites

Another thing worth noting is her clingy nature. Everywhere the player goes, Eternal Sugar has to follow, which does make things more difficult and affects progress. The prime definition of a space invader

It gets even worse during the night cycle, where she often insists on sleeping in the same bed as the player. Despite this, night is the only time the player will be able to get anything done. Just know that when they got back to bed and woke up the next morning, they'll have a sweet surprise waiting for them

*Morning light shines onto your face as it creeps into the rest of the room. You groan, awoken by your natural alarm clock, and begin to yawn & stretch, a part of you wished you slept in a bit longer. But as you try to get out of bed, you feel a weight on your right hand, better yet, you feel an entire section of the bed being weighed down by some unknown force. Turning around, you quickly discover why*

"E-Eternal Sugar Cookie! What are you-?!"

*There, covering a good half of the bed, Eternal Sugar Cookie was peacefully snoozing, clutching your hand. In your failed attempts at yelling at her & pulling your hand away were left to no avail, she had no intent on moving, nor letting go, making you all the more flustered*

"Ms. Eternal Sugar Cookie, please!- Let me go! I need-"

*She merely lifted one eye, only half awake and ready to sleep the rest of the day away*

"Awh~ but little mouse, it's so early!~ Can't you stay just a bit longer?~"

*She smiles at your flustered expression*

"But I have stuff to do! Please, you have to let me- *ah!-* h-hey!"

*Too busy trying to escape, you failed to notice her grip getting tighter, pulling you back down your now shared bed*

"Sleep a little more with me, won't you? There's no rush~"

"O-ok, fine then, but only for a couple more minutes, but that's it!"

*She giggled*

"Deal~"

Throughout their stay, the player only gets small snippets of Eternal Sugar's true personality. If the player chose to question her sickly sweet demeanor, she'd get defensive real fast, asking them why they would even question something like that. If angered, she becomes pushy, demanding, especially when the player doesn't do what she says

It becomes increasingly clear when Eternal Sugar gives you a new outfit, since the one you're wearing (aka the outfit Shadow Milk gave you) didn't fit her style, believing that you should wear something more flowy. She actually offers several different outfits for the player, and although nice, they're. . . let's just say not so family friendly; try as they might to reject her offers, she'll get upset and more persistent, nonetheless; this however does change as the story goes on, she becomes more understanding. Luckily, the two manage to make a compromise, Eternal Sugar offers the player a much simpler pink dress, with bows, lace, and ribbons. Despite being much to the player's liking(if that's what the player chooses), she begins to whine about it, saying how it could've been so much more; not to mention, both the ribbons and lace constantly get stuck on things if they aren't careful

The only time the player's able to really see Eternal Sugar's true colors is when Shadow Milk shows up, who's not all too happy about her basically kidnapping the player. Whilst they ventured alone, he made the mistake of taking his eyes off them for a second, last thing he knew they were snatched by some clouds and whisked away into the sky, which he immediately starts chasing after them. He knew exactly who was responsible. Unlike Shadow Milk, Eternal Sugar does a much better job of keeping her composure, playing dumb and refraining from acting out of character around the player. But once Shadow Milk insults her fake personality, all hell breaks loose

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my dear friend. . .?~ Eternal Sugar Cookie. . !"

*Shadow Milk had snuck in through an open window. Before you could even do anything, Eternal Sugar had already pulled you to her side, forcing you to sit in the lavish and comfortable sofa she was lounging on. He made his way towards her, with his usual wide smile; from the corner of your eye, you could barely see an eye twitch and, was he gritting his teeth? It didn't look like it, but he was seething with rage*

"Oh, Shadow Milk Cookie!~ for what do I owe the pleasure?~"

"How lovely of you to ask!~ You see, you just so happen to have something that belongs to me!"

*Shadow Milk then stares back at you, startling you a bit with his crazed expression. Although Eternal Sugar seemed unfazed, her grip on you only became tighter as the trickster started speaking to you*

"Little mousey, there you are!~ Oh I was so worried, thank goodness you're safe!~"

"I am so, so, sorry to have kept you waiting~ believe me, it's a long story!~"

"*Ah!* And what happened to the little dress I gave you?! I mean you still look cute, but you'd look so much better before and- oh! almost got off track for a second!~ *haha!*"

"Alrighty, I think it's time for me and my little mousey to get go-"

"You're leaving with them? Now what would be the purpose in that?~"

*She quickly shifted from her lounging position to a sitting position, pulling you closer toward her, and flustering you more. You see the trickster's eye twitch more, noticing just a crack in his character*

"*hehe-* what did you say. . ?!"

"I've tooken quite the liking to 'your' little mouse!~ Besides, you keeping them all to your self. . ? Extremely unfair of you!~"

*She then draped her arms around you, your face was getting redder by the second*

"Surely they'll be much happier here, isn't that right little mouse?~"

"Well, *uhh-* actually. . ."

"Then it's settled!~ The little mouse will be staying with me!~"

*They proceeded to argue back and forth, Shadow Milk's played up character was falling apart at the seams, losing a drop of his patience with every word the "angel" said. Eternal Sugar found herself quite entertained with the trickster getting angrier and angrier. All the while, you didn't know what to do, clearly neither of them were going to let you leave, or you know, let you get a single word in. So you were placed in a very awkward situation, stuck between an angel cookie who wasn't keen on you leaving, and a jester who was trying to get you back through gritted teeth*

"Listen, I'm the one who saw them first, they were found in my domain, therefore, they're mine! So if you would be so kind as to return them to me. . !"

*She proceeded to hold you closer, practically cuddling you, was she trying to make him even angrier?!*

"Oh but we're having so much fun!~ They'd much prefer it here than that over-the-top spiral you call a tower. . !"

*Insulting his domain was the nail in the coffin. It looked like he'd finally snapped, any ounce of patience he had before was completely out the window. Using his magic, he wrapped up your hands in some mysterious string, pulling you forward and out of Eternal Sugar's reach, greatly shocking and scaring the heck out of you. Once you were back in his arms, Shadow Milk pushed you behind him, and looking back at Eternal Sugar, she'd gotten up from the sofa, it seemed like she was starting to crack as well*

"Oh!~ So that's how we're gonna play *huh?!* Then I'll lend you this: do you really think they'd want to stay with a tooth-rotting prick like yourself?!"

*She began to clutch her fists, her eyes widen in a mix of shock and anger*

". . ?! What did you just call me. . ?!"

"Oh don't you give me that! little miss 'sweet & innocent angel!' unlike myself, people can see your fake persona from a mile away!~"

"And with how long they had to stay with you. . . I'm surprised my poor little mousey hasn't gotten sick and vomited from the spoiling and smothering they had to withstand!"

*That was all it took for her, she broke faster than he did, the wings on her back got bigger, Eternal Sugar's eyes glowed with rage*

". . . how dare you. . !"

"HOW DARE YOU!!"

The player obviously gets the choice of trying to stop the fight or slipping away, the following events escalating faster or slower depending on which they choose. Things escalate to a point where Eternal Sugar just snatched them and attempted to fly away with the player, which led to Shadow Milk using his magical strings to pull them back, entering the two of them in an intense game of tug of war with the player. And the force of both sides was so strong. . . It ended up ripping the player in half

So, Eternal Sugar Cookie, kinda pushy at times and very clingy all the time, but a sweetheart nonetheless

~Mystic Flour~

Getting ripped in half by two powerful beings. . . not something you would easily forget. . . You'd expect this to be game over, right? well, wrong, cause upon miraculously waking up, not only do you find yourself on top a strange alter, but face to face with Mystic Flour Cookie

Seeing the clouds of Eternal Sugar Cookie's cloud soaring past her land, she immediately could tell that something was a mist, and strolling through the silver forest and finding the player laying on the strange alter, her suspicions were correct

At first, she couldn't believe it, a cookie, in their world?! But after a proper meeting with the player and asking how they ended up on the alter, she became a bit more pitiful, going on to invite them to her domain, such a clueless cookie shouldn't be left alone!

But talking about what was basically their death is pretty traumatizing, so the player is given the choice of whether to straight up lie, or give some part of the truth

"So, you have no memory of how you ended up on this alter. . ? Nothing at all?"

*Your voice was strained, you didn't want to tell her the full truth*

"N-no, not a lot. . ."

*Mystic Flour then proceeds to grasp both your cheeks, pulling you close to her face, much to your slight embarrassment*

"Oh, you poor thing! You must be so lost, so confused. . ."

*It was that moment when an idea sprung into her, an idea that may help the both of you. . .*

"How about you come with me?~ Surely you'll be much safer!~"

*Try as you might to decline her offer, she just becomes more insistent. She was giving decent points however, you were lost and confused, not to mention trapped in this witch-forsaken place, and the only two "cookies" you knew killed you, accidently or not, you couldn't decide. . . Eventually, after lots of convincing and growing tired, you finally cave, accepting her offer*

"Ok, fine, I'll go with you"

"Oh good! Well, come along then!~"

*Gently, Mystic Flour took your hand, pulling you off the alter, and guiding you through the silver woods*

Mystic Flour had already made herself sound quite trustworthy, but of course, this can't be without some sort of catch. . . Though she looks caring on the outside, she sees the player as a mere tool, a stepping stool for something much greater. Her methods of getting information is much more subtle

Both minigames mentioned before required some sort of skill, Mystic Flour's is no exception. Similar to classic video game "Snake," the player's goal is to fill the respected area using dragons instead of snakes (wonder why?)

Pretty much the minute the two of them enter her domain, she basically gives them free range to do whatever. She doesn't really care if the player wanders too far or gets into spaces they shouldn't. But she will let you know when it's time to head back

*As the sun starts to set, you continue to search about the area like a curious child, you hardly noticed Mystic Flour standing just behind you*

"Little pika, dear it's time to head back!~"

*Hearing her voice yelling out to you so suddenly just barely startled you, but you gained back your composure once you see her warm smile*

"Oh! Hi Mystic Flour Cookie! Just give me a second, I have to check a few more things!"

*It wasn't like you weren't going to listen to her orders, you just had a bit more to do. But watching you get farther & farther away from her; Mystic Flour saw it differently. Already making her way toward you, she proceeded to scoop you into her arms, startling you and plastering blush onto your face, as she started walking you back herself*

"*ah!*W-Wait! Mystic Flour Cookie, I wasn't done ye-!"

"I know, I know, dear, you have your little tasks!~ But you'll have so much time to do them tomorrow, so please, might we head back? I'm sure the food is getting cold!"

*With you being in her grasp and your legs being very much off the ground, there wasn't really a choice to keep going. You could've kicked and screamed, but there were doubts that'd even work. . . And so, with no other options, you let her take you away, which sucked, but hey, at least you have yummy food waiting for you!*

Mystic Flour has the sheer amount of enthusiasm as an overly supportive mother, she has not a clue of what the player is doing but they're doing great! But like some mothers, she tries a more "hands off" approach as a way to set rules, intentionally not telling the player helpful information just for the sake of them learning it themselves

She does, however, provide them with all the materials to do so: a bedtime routine, plenty of food, and a warm winter outfit. Speaking of which, due to the wintery background, Mystic Flour gives them an outfit most suitable to withstand the cold, something heavy, but also angelic, a nun like dress colored a soft yellow, complete with black counterparts. The only downside is that defending the player from the cold is its only purpose, for it is much too heavy anywhere else and unbearable in hotter areas

Unlike the other beasts mentioned, Mystic Flour has no interest in forming a genuine relationship with the player. To her, you only serve one purpose, finding her escape (whatever that means) and is more direct into reaching her goal. She creates a false sense of security between the two of them, then when the time is right, uses that bond to her advantage. Fortunately, this behavior does change as the story continues, and Mystic Flour becomes more interested, and attached, to the player, but for now, her methods remain neutral

This becomes more apparent as Mystic Flour tries getting information out of the player in a sort of therapeutic way, sitting them down and letting them speak about their troubles, starting with the obvious. . .

"And. . . that's pretty much what happen. . ."

*You laid atop the much larger cookie, your head resting on her lap as she lightly massaged your hair. You rub your hands uncomfortably, as if waiting for bad news, your throat felt strained. Sandwiched between two angry beings, getting pulled into the sky then ripped in two, these were memories you weren't ready to revisit, especially with someone you've met only a few moments ago. . . At the same time, was holding this deep inside healthy? You saw life flash before your eyes, seconds before being split in half. . . Besides, you were already holding onto so much. . . would it hurt to let go of some. . . You felt Mystic Flour let go of your hair as she began running her hand on your face*

"Oh you, poor, poor, dear. . ."

"I am so sorry you had to be apart of. . . that. . ."

*Although you couldn't see her face, she sounded genuinely sorry for you, which was quite refreshing considering everything you've been through so far*

"They can be rather selfish at times, only thinking about themselves. . . You're lucky you've ended up with me!~"

*You laughed at her remark, trying to brighten up the mood, despite still feeling, well, you didn't know what to feel at that point. . .*

"*Heh* Yeah. . . I guess you're right. . ."

*Unannounced to you, Mystic Flour smiled to herself, her plan was working swimmingly. . . Having brought you to a docile state, it was more than a better time to gather the information she'd been longing for. . .*

"If you would allow me to. . . may I ask you something else?"

*You think for a minute, it was only one question, what harm could it do. . .*

"*Uh* sure. . . what is it?"

"Well little pika, you see-"

*Before the words could fall out of her mouth, there was a sudden loud BANG noise from outside. Respectfully, this startles you, making you flinch, but Mystic Flour didn't seem to move. . . Looking back up, you were finally able to see her face, she seemed irritated, annoyed. Gently, she lifted your head off her lap, resting you onto your knees, confused, you turn to her and saw that she was already standing, looking down upon you. She mumbled something under her breath*

"*Ugh* At a time like this. . ?!"

"Just a moment pika. . . I have to handle something. . ."

Mystic Flour considers herself to be the mother figure of the beasts, and although uncompassionate at times, she plays her role well

~Burning Spice~

(Literally the most perfect segway!~)

All it took was Shadow Milk and Eternal Sugar fighting for Burning Spice Cookie to want a part of the action. Last where we left off with them, the two managed to split the player in half, insides and everything, and were now freaking out over their (very much dead) body, whilst arguing over whose fault it was. By sheer coincidence, did Burning Spice decide to check up on Eternal Sugar, and catches site of the two yelling at each other

Burning Spice hasn't met the player, doesn't know who they are nor what they look like, but he took immediate interest in them after seeing how they affected the two other beasts. If just their mutilated body was enough to cause them to start screaming and crying like little kids, who knows what else they could do. . .

Already, he was making assumptions of what kind of person they'd be, perhaps the player was someone strong and intimidating, someone perfect to be his sparring partner, and continues to deny any sort of actual description of them

Him, Shadow Milk, Eternal Sugar had mostly worked together in their search for the player, but the millisecond they found out they were with Mystic Flour, the race was on. . . Which takes us to now, where Burning Spice appears first, causing a massive scene with his abilities in an attempt to lure her out

*Alerted by the sudden destruction just outside, Mystic Flour rushed to her outer balcony, irritated like this had happened before. . . She knew exactly who the culprit was, and sure enough, there he was, sitting casually atop the balcony's railing, Burning Spice greeted her with a sinister look on his face. She had already prepared herself, immediately knowing that something was about to go down*

"There she is, Misty! Long time no see!"

"Burning Spice Cookie. . . what brings you here. . ?"

"*Oh!* I think you know exactly why I'm here!"

*Getting off the railing, he walked toward his comrade, having no use in making a big deal out of it. Mystic Flour, although slightly surprised, saw it as a sort of threat, only further did she stand her ground*

"Ya see, a little birdie told me that you've been hiding a shiny new treasure from us. And I, of course, thought it'd be too good to be true. . . So I decided to drop by to take a look for myself. . !"

*He tried walking around her to reach the balcony's entrance, but before he could take another step, Mystic Flour stopped him, she wouldn't back down that easily. . .*

"There is no such thing. . . whatever is in my possession is none of your business. . !"

*In her defensive state, Burning Spice's persistence only grew, now patting her shoulder almost reassuringly*

"Hey, c'mon Misty!~ we're buddies, pals! Letting me get a tiny sneak peek shouldn't be a problem!"

"Say, how about this? You let me see what you're hiding, and I promise, I won't tell the others, I'll even let ya keep it! So what do ya say?~"

*Not even seconds after he said that, he immediately tried pushing past Mystic Flour as if she'd already answered his question. Of course, she shut that down almost instantly, even pushing him back, something which he doesn't really take well. His eyes widened, she set him off by just that push alone. She could bluntly tell he was lying, only using their relationship as an excuse, so she didn't let him any closer*

"Burning Spice Cookie, we've known each other for eons, do you really think I wouldn't be able to recognize one of your petty excuses. . . ?! "

"If you knew better, you'd be wise enough to leave, for this so-called treasure you're after, I know nothing about!"

*Pushing and telling him to leave. . . yep, that'll do it. . . Burning Spice broke into laughter as his hair began to glow warms shades of red, orange, and yellow, moving like a sea of flames*

"*HA HA HA HAHAHA!* *Oh!* Misty, ya might just make me angry!"

*His tone quickly shifts from trigger-happy to overall threatening once he'd opened his eyes, now just as bright as his hair, he marches towards Mystic Flour, who was all the more irritated and unfazed*

"And you. . . don't wanna make me angry. . !"

"Make you angry?! *Heh!* Didn't know it was so easy to mess with that small brain of yours!"

*It isn't long before the two engage in full on battle, both sides being equally matched in some way. While this was all happening, you were completely unaware; being inside exploring, you're none the wiser of the destruction going on outside*

Eventually, Burning Spice does manage to bust his way inside, and upon actually seeing the player in their simple state, he couldn't be more disappointed, to think Shadow Milk and Eternal Sugar's bickering would be caused by such a boring little cookie(but those two do fight over a lot of things, so-)

He'd almost considered leaving them, but Burning Spice would rather leave with something than nothing, so taking his losses he hoists up the player over his shoulder and makes, a not so quiet, escape. Much to Mystic Flour's dismay and the player's protests (or cries for help depending on what they choose)

Burning Spice sees the player like how a general sees a soldier. He thinks they're weak, bland, and more notably boring, and wants to, in his words, "spice them up." Because of this, he is unnecessarily harsh, working the player to the bone and expecting them to "get up" when they get too tired

*How long has it been. . ? An hour? Two hours? At that point you didn't know, but all you did know is that it felt like an eternity since Burning Spice started your so called "training." Back and forth, you were forced to run with heavy rocks on your back whilst following him, who was doing the same. All the while he'd yell at you to pick up the pace as encouragement. . .You huffed and panted*

"*Hah**hah. . .* Burning Spice Cookie, please, can't we stop for. . . just a minute. . ?"

*It was the only time he'd turn back at you, what a ridiculous ask!*

"What?! Definitely not! ya still got a lot to go, pipsqueak!"

*You couldn't go on any longer. A mess of sweat and sore bones, you plummet to the ground, numb to the rocks currently on your back, you wanted rest, at least for a minute. . . Burning Spice only reached a good distance away before noticing you were far, far behind. He ran back to you, but not because he was worried*

"Ay! Pipsqueak, what's the holdup?!"

*He crouched down, better viewing your shriveled up body, far too weak to keep going. Despite the obvious, Burning Spice still tried getting you to stand, poking, even attempting to pull you off the ground, but you won't budge. . .*

"C'mon! Quit acting like Eternal Sugar Cookie and get moving!"

"Please. . . let me rest. . ."

*Your sweat could've well stained the ground if it were cool enough. . . You were stubborn & refused to get up, becoming a puddle of flesh. Realizing that you weren't moving, he, grudgingly, decides to do what was best, but first he had to move you somewhere more suitable to your needs*

"*Ugh* Alright! Fine! I'll let you outta this, only once!"

*Swiftly brushing the rocks off your back, he scoops you up and onto his shoulder, no way would he let you die right then and there. You suddenly feel the biggest weight being literally lifted off your shoulders, thanking whatever was out there for this moment*

"I'll let you rest, but not here!"

"*Heh* Thank you. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!"

Everything Burning Spice does, he expects the player to do the same, no matter how difficult. But will give them the benefit of the doubt when the player gets too tired to keep going, much to his annoyance

He's active and moving 24/7, that's why Burning Spice's minigame is directly based on "Super Mario Bros" where the player runs about collecting items, attacking enemies, etc.

If the player is talking to him, he'll most entirely talk about himself, boosting his ego, even throwing insults at the other beasts, which is both annoying and ironic because he does the exact same things that they do. That being said, it's important to never get mad at him or give him attitude because it will work him up, for better or worse. . .

The player can easily get information from him due to his blunt honesty. When talking about the other beasts, he'll always give bits of helpful information about them, some that can be extremely helpful in the future

Similar to Mystic Flour, Burning Spice gives the player free range to do whatever, the only difference is that Burning Spice sets up these "training sessions" on random occasions without notifying the player firsthand, and expects them to drop everything to train with him. This exhausts the player, causing them to only be able to do things during the day, when they've required enough rest

*Stumbling into the room Burning Spice gave you, you flop onto the bed, nestling your head against your pillow, relived. You were finally able to rest your jelly legs, sore running around and doing tasks. But you turn to your side, something catches your eye. . . On the single window of your room, you noticed what looked to be a slip of paper. Despite being entirely drained, your curiosity got the better of you, and slipping from the bed, you make your way toward the windowsill, now realizing how out of place from the rest of the room, appearing more of a light lilac than any of the reds and oranges. You questioned if even came from the place, and upon proper examination, your suspicions seemed correct. . . This was no mere paper, but a letter! Curiosities only felt more rapid as you opened, revealing not only short message crafted in cursive, but a beautiful illustration of a rose*

"Small Rodent, have you been faring well within our world? Have you been eating, sleeping well? I hope the others hadn't been too cruel towards you. . . Word of mouth does not travel fast here, so I apologize if I arrive to you late. . . I wish to reach you soon. . ."

"From- Silent Salt Cookie"

"Small Rodent. . ?"

*Reading through the passage, you took a few seconds to process, hoping that whoever sent it wasn't suggesting what you thought they were suggesting, cause if you got kidnapped one more time. . .-*

"Aye! Pipsqueak!!"

*Burning Spice had, without warning, busted into the room, no time for internal dialogue now! With milliseconds to think, you swiftly hide the letter behind your back, not before confronting the brute for his sudden excursion of your privacy*

"B-Burning Spice Cookie?! What are you doing here?!-"

"What?~ I can't check on my little pipsqueak, can't I?~"

*Again with the nickname. .?! Blushing rapidly, you couldn't tell whether you were annoyed, angry, or just plain embarrassed. . . Burning Spice laughed boastingly, always amused by your expressions*

"*HAHAHAH!~* Ya never fail to entertain me, pipsqueak!~"

*Then he noticed the arms behind your back. . .*

"Say, whatcha got there? Ya hiding something from me?"

*Shoot! the letter was still in your hands! Only seeing this as more of a reason to keep it hidden, you play it cool for as much as possible*

"I-It's nothing! W-What are you talking about?!*hehe*"

*Burning Spice just saw your actions as even more suspicious, he might be a barbarian, but he isn't stupid. He attempted turning you around to see what exactly you were keeping from him, all the while you were trying to dodge him, cold sweat beginning to run down your forehead*

"Are ya sure? Cause *uh* ya starting to look pretty sweaty there. . ."

"Oh!- this?! *Uhh. . .* I'm just, tired! from all the training today *haha!*"

*You two do this dance a bit, with you becoming doubly irritated the more Burning Spice tried seeing what you're hiding, getting additionally irritated while Burning Spice looked completely willing to tear your front open, asking and reinsuring you, again and again to get a little looksee. And you thought Shadow Milk was nosy?! Annoying and driven to your breaking point, you practically yell at him-*

"IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, OK?!"

*Hearing those words fall out of your mouth, Burning Spice is beyond tooken aback, clearly, he didn't like being told what to do. You quickly gasp to yourself, slamming your mouth closed with a free hand upon realizing what you've just said, how could you be so stupid?! With the letter still in your other hand, you decide the best course of action was to crumble up the paper, that letter was the least of your worries now anyway. . .*

"Did. . .Did you just yell at me. . ?!"

*You gulped, your sweat becoming increasingly apparent as the brute looked seconds away from having steam shoot out his ears. He proceeds to get unnervingly close, practically towering over you. . .Didn't think it would end this way. . .*

"That. . . Is. . ."

"Great!!!"

"Ya getting spicier by the minute!"

*Burning Spice grabbed both your shoulders, and shook them with excitement, much to your bewilderment. The way his tone can just shift was both jarring and impressive. After a bit of violent shaking and surviving what would've been another death experience, he eventually lets go, not before giving you a hardy slap to the back whilst laughing, dang near knocking you off your feet and the letter out of your hand*

"*HA! HA!* Ya know what!? Take the rest of the day off! I wanna see my hard work!"

*He happily marches out of the room, leaving you in a rather messed up state*

"Be sure to get all the rest ya need! Ya gonna need it for tomorrow!"

*Burning Spice leaves the room, shutting the door, the second he was out of sight, you took the biggest sigh of relief. That was close, way too close! Like you practically dodged a bullet! You pull back out the crumbled-up letter and tried to fix it, somewhat regretting your decision of almost destroying it before. You had to be more careful next time*

During this entire scene, the player must be extra careful around Burning Spice, because despite how it's played, there's a route where he discovered the letter while they're asleep, and he's not too pleased with having Silent Salt trying to contact them, promptly getting so angry he burns the letter to ashes

That being said, Burning Spice, though seeming like a rage-filled brute who fights first and asks questions later, he's never threatening nor outright violent to the player, unless its a final resort. The player is a much-needed piece in a, all be it complex, puzzle, even if they don't even know it, and in order for them to work is through gaining their trust. But don't think that this is a good thing, there are many times where he could've hurt them yet actively chose not to

He immediately got to work constructing another outfit for the player cause in his own words, "there's no way ya staying here looking like that!" And the outfit he gives them perfectly reflects his ego, slick black clothing, paired with red barbaric accents, and brightly colored armor, making the player look like a mini version of himself. It's good enough for the endless training they have to do, but it's clear that some parts of the outfit were put together at the last second and were made from the minimal sewing Burning Spice learned. And if wanting to be honest, it's kinda ugly. . . Overall, it's the player's least favorite of the outfits given (if they decide it is)

Every hour, it feels like Burning Spice is always learning something new about the player, to him at least. Because of this, he celebrates every accomplishment they make with lavished (and very spicy) feasts, no matter how small they might be. Not exactly the best prize for basically being slaved away constantly to a point of exhaustion, but he doesn't need to know that. The only downside to this is that he's loud, like really loud, so loud in fact, he can't hear any other voices but his own, making him clearly oblivious to a certain someone stealing away the player(-again)

So Burning Spice, a not-so great roommate, but a pretty good personal trainer

~Silent Salt~

Ever since leaving Shadow Milk's site, someone else had been watching the player for some time, someone who wasn't too distant from the player, none other than the silent knight themself, Silent Salt Cookie

Once they found out about the player, there wasn't an ounce of disbelief nor hesitation that got into their head, they only had one goal in mind, and that was getting the player out of the other beasts' hands. But like a hungry wolf with its meal, they knew it wouldn't be easy. The other beasts always kept the player at arm's length, even with the leisure they receive, those four always made sure they were watched. And so they waited, and waited, and waited. . . In till they had the right moment to strike

Normally the beasts would be more direct when approaching the player, probably showing some pity towards them, not before whisking them away, Silent Salt on the other hand had a more different approach. They'd leave small letters for the player, all written in cursive and paired with a beautifully drawn illustration which they constructed themselves. Silent Salt essentially gives the player a bread crumb trail, preparing them for what was to come as to not spook them later

"Last one to get back to the base goes stale!"

"Burning Spice Cookie! Wait up!"

*You two were only trying to get back. . . nothing too special, yet of course, Burning Spice just had to turn it into a game of tag, didn't he?! Already tired from the day's activities, you struggled to move forward, and the barbarian is way ahead. Despite how unfair, annoying, and exhausting it was, you sighed, it wasn't the first time he did this. . . As you forced your body further, all you cared about was getting rest. You never understood why Burning Spice pushed your body to such lengths, but if there was one other reason to keep going it was to spite him. But as you were about halfway there, an unknown force suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side, you yelped, why does everyone here like grabbing you!?*

"*AH!* W-What the!?-"

*Pulled into an unnoticed corner, you practically swing yourself around, already having a good idea of just who decided to yank you out of the way, and you got what you wished for. . . Hovering over your tiny body, was the silent knight themself, quiet and unmoving, looking down at you. . . You jump back a bit startled, those training sessions are sounding a lot better right now. . . Although frozen with fear, it didn't take long to realize that something wasn't right. Sure, they appeared in front of you but that was merely it, just standing there, menacingly, almost like a statue. Your fear quickly dissolves into pure confusion as you stare back at them, the moment shifting into awkward silence. You already had a decent idea of who this fellow might be, and decided to use it as a way to break the barrier between you two*

"*Um. . .* Hi. . ."

"Y-You're Silent Salt Cookie, right. . ?"

*It took them a second to respond, and by "respond" they actually crouched down and got extremely close to your face, adding to your bewilderment, and barely managing to keep your composure*

"*ah!-* I'm gonna take that as a yes. . !"

*As a result of being thrown around so much, you practically knew what was next, but seeing the knight so still felt alien to you, and almost refreshing. . ? Like you were happy to just not be snatched for once, as morbid as that sounds. Oh but no, that's not right, who's to say that this fellow was to be trusted. You make the bold choice to ask them more questions, but before another word could fall out of your mouth. . .*

"Aye Pipsqueak! What's the hold up!?"

It's a no-brainer that Burning Spice finally noticed the player's absence, they have the rightful decision of running to him or yelling out, which Silent Salt covers their mouth and attempts to take them away(what a surprise!) The second route, however, the player's (4th) kidnapping is put on display for Burning Spice, who did not handle the situation well. He immediately rushes in to save them, but Silent Salt was much too swift for him. All the while, the player attempts to save themselves; trying to kick, scream, and squirm their way to freedom, but nothing works, they were a knight after all. Enraged, Burning Spice yells at Silent Salt that he'll get revenge, and he won't be alone. . !

(And before we go on any further, I personally like to hc that Silent Salt is both mute and deaf because 1. it matches with the new ancient heroes since Pure Vanilla is heavily implied to be blind; and 2. it'd make sense that the witches would want to make a disabled cookie. During their pre-corruption days, the five virtues also had to be role models for the cookies, thus they had to, at some extent, be relatable. So giving one of the virtues something that other cookies can relate to makes sense. Oh and as a bonus, Silent Salt is completely fluent in ASL and is fairly good at lip reading; Shadow Milk and Mystic Flour are also fluent in ASL and often act as their mouth pieces. Ok moving on!)

You'd think that the player wouldn't trust Silent Salt from the jump, given the circumstances & that this happened to them so many other times, and yet. . . Silent Salt was the only one to be considerate of the player's feelings before performing the act, they knew the player would be scared, if not terrified, of them, especially when you consider their appearance and quiet nature; thus they planted the letter to let them know. So although this doesn't mean the player fully trusts them, it is a step into the right path

How they view the player is a complete mystery, unlike the other beasts, it isn't just spelled out in ink. Instead, the player has to focus on their interactions and certain body language, since they can't speak

Similarly to Eternal Sugar, Silent Salt will often give the player gifts in an attempt to gain their trust. The main difference on the other hand was that those gifts were much smaller scale than what Eternal Sugar gave them, but still feel more thought out and genuine

*Lilac-colored curtain draped over large windows, comfortable sitting, and a bed that resembled a soft marshmallow, you had to admit, for living in a wasteland, they sure knew a thing or two about decor. But as you admired your new bedroom, you get a sudden knock on the door, and opening it a crack, you see Silent Salt, they appeared to be holding a few things*

"Oh! Silent Salt Cookie! What brings you-"

*Fully opening the door revealed what they were holding, a bouquet of beautifully made paper flowers in one hand, and a sliver tin, filled with salted chocolates in the other. Seeing the gifts, you were pleasantly surprised, not just by the tin of sweets but the paper flowers, so true to life and clearly made by them, you were amazed by the fact they were able to pull something like that off*

"Wow! are these for me?"

*The knight nodded their head, handing both gifts to you. Despite how small the gesture was, you still felt a tiny bit overwhelmed, the smallest hint of blush creeped onto your face*

"T-Thank you! They're lovely!"

Silent Salt was & still somewhat is known for their skills with a sword, thus the reason why their minigame is based on "Fruit Ninja." The player, instead of slicing fruit, is made to cut different pieces of paper according to a dotted line, in an attempt to mimic Silent Salt's paper flowers

While out exploring and doing tasks, Silent Salt will actually partner up with the player & help them, which is already a massive change from the player's other beast encounters. Either they'd find ways to stretch the task out even longer, or just not help at all, so having them there is a huge change of pace. They're always by the player's side, because of this, they can come off as clingy at times

They, like most of the beasts, give the player free range to do whatever, but is quick to set boundaries. The player isn't allowed to go into certain areas without their supervision, especially at night

*Lightly tracking your steps across cold floors, you carefully tiptoe through the Silent domain, moonlight streaking onto every nook and cranny acted as your only light source, which you tried to use to your advantage, the last thing you wanted was to be caught. But when you turned the corner, guess who you unceremoniously bumped into. . ? Pressed into their chest, you abruptly backed away startled & flustered realizing who it was, Silent Salt just looked at you, just like before*

"*Ah!-* Silent Salt Cookie. . ! It's not what you think. . !"

"I-I just have a few other things to do, that's all!-"

*The silent knight only stood there, arms crossed, making their stance all the more stern. You already had a good idea of what was going on in their head, no amount of convincing would change your fate. So with a sigh, you started heading back to your room, not before Silent Salt gently scoops you up, refusing to let you touch the floor, and carried you there themself. Blushing rapidly, you beg and plead for them to put you down, but failed miserably; why does everyone like carrying you so much. . ?*

Silent Salt treats the player like they're the most fragile thing on Earthbread, handling them with care and, with their position as a knight, more than happy to cater to their every need and desire

Due to their disability and limitations in lip reading, talking to them is difficult, creating this communication barrier between them and the player. This, however, doesn't stop the two of them from trying to fix the issue

That being said, Silent Salt most definitely wants to teach the player ASL so they can communicate easier. They made sure they'd take their time, teaching them all they need to know, starting with letters, to phrases, to full sentences. Even if the player struggles to learn at first, they're extremely patient with them, teaching things one step at a time

If it wasn't already obvious, Silent Salt is very delicate with their hands, due to their precise skills with a sword. Because of this, they picked up quite a few hobbies, like painting and drawing, clearly showed by the letter they made the player before, and surprisingly, braiding hair

*Slowly, the silent knight carefully overlapped strand after strand of hair from your head into beautiful braids. They put special care into each braid, constantly checking with you to make sure they were comfortable, even going the extra mile of creating more paper flowers to infuse into the braids. Sitting in front of the bedroom's vanity mirror, you were in awe at how perfect the braids were, your hair practically became an art project! Looking back at them, you couldn't see their face, but you could tell Silent Salt was genuinely enjoying themself, how they added flower after flower, even sometimes placing one directly onto your head; because well, why not? It was moments like this that made you think back to when you first met, back to when their silence felt alien to you, and how you were so unwilling to cooperate. . . Yes, you still didn't fully trust the knight, all of this just felt too perfect, almost too good to be true even, but it does. After placing the last flower, they were finally done, the braids were wrapped around your head and tied in the back with a purple ribbon*

If the hairstyle doesn't make them feel like royalty, then don't worry, Silent Salt had them covered. Cause not soon after doing their hair, they presented their outfit, which looked more like a gorgeous gown than any regular dress. Everything about it was perfect, the long white silk trin that partly touched the floor, the bow around the waste that matched your hair, the simple purple accents, its ruffled layers, everything. But possibly the most radiant part of the gown was these beautiful sewn in embroideries, each more beautiful than the last, all throughout. This was the straw that broke that camel's back, such actions of kindness couldn't go unrewarded; so through ASL, the player is able to sign phrases "thank you" and "sorry," to which Silent Salt immediately accepts. Quite a shame the player couldn't do more. . . The only two downside one could think of is that it strongly resembled a wedding dress, which can give the wrong ideas fast; also the gown length gives the possibility of tripping, but that's a simple price to pay

The relationship between the player and Silent Salt is mostly through action, and to some extent, physical touch. The player is always finding new and creative ways to repay them for everything they've done, often finding themselves cooking or cleaning for them, even gifting them drawings and paper creations they made themselves. Silent Salt does find this sweet and charming, but as a knight, they really have no desires. They crave the simpler things, like holding hands, learning ASL, or just being together in general. No amount of wasted paper would change that

Unfortunately, as stated before, not everything can be too blissful. . . Silent Salt is regularly shown to be extremely overprotective of the player, which does make sense considering their role; Silent Salt is a knight, keeping the innocent safe is their job, and the fact that the other beasts were also after them only made them double down on protecting them. Now, Silent Salt, before meeting the player, had no plans of escape, at least even they think of, in fact, became increasingly fond of their surroundings. . . Only when they learned the player did they start to reconsider. . . with a new opportunity, they couldn't simply pass it up. . .

Because of this, they've developed a 6th sense(or 5th or 4th) whenever they felt the player was in danger. Silent Salt can pick up signals of danger from miles away, and acts quickly ensure their safety, so imagine the player's surprise and confusion when being rushed somewhere else

*Everything was a blur. . . One second ago you and Silent Salt were spending time together per usual, before you knew it you were being pulled into your room, and Silent Salt was doing repeated checks on the door and windows, making sure they were locked. Confused, you try to stop them in their tracks, to get some sort of answer, but all they did was clutch both your hands tightly, looking you directly in the eyes; before abruptly letting go, telling you to never, for any reason, open the door or windows till they came back, then disappears, leaving you in a state of flustered shock. Even if completely unexpected on your end, it became increasingly clear why Silent Salt acted the way they did. . . with a battle axe, guess who was waiting just outside. . ?*

"Salty! right on time!~ It's been awhile, hasn't it?~"

*The knight merely stood there, sword in hand with a tight grip. They already knew what the brute was saying, him placing the axe's handle on the back of his neck as he began to walk towards them*

"Honestly, I'm pretty surprised Salty!~ Out of everybody here, it's you who'd be dumb enough to steal from me, me!"

"Cause when I think of stealing, I usually think of Shadow Milk Cookie, maybe Eternal Sugar Cookie if what we're after is really worth fighting for, but you?! *HA!* Didn't think of ya as the taking type!~"

"*Hmm. . .* I like it! You know I always love a good surprise?~"

*With every step he took, Silent Salt only further stood their ground, having already pulled their sword out from the dirt and getting into a battle stance. Upon reading their body language, his grin only got bigger, he knew exactly what was doing and actively stirred the pot. He put his hands up as he backed away in a condescending yet reassuring tone*

"*Woah!-* *Woah!-* Easy there buddy!~ Now I know what it looks like, but I promise, I didn't come here to cause trouble. . ."

"Instead, I'm looking for a little. . . exchange. . ."

*Burning Spice proceeded to hold his axe behind his back to make himself appear more innocent. All the while Silent Salt didn't once get out of their battle-ready mindset*

"Now I know I can be a little. . . hectic at times, but for this I'm willing to make one exception. . ."

"Say, I won't leave a scratch on your place, if you return what you've stole from me. . !"

"A simple deal, really!- You get out of this with no causalities, and I leave with that little cookie in tow!~ So what do ya say. . ?"

*Silent Salt was only getting parts of the Burning Spice's so called "deal," and already, they were not having it. . ! With just a blink of an eye, Silent Salt went from guarding their domain to holding the tip of their blade at Burning Spice's throat, as if they teleported, they were that fast. . ! Along with Shadow Milk's lies, none of the beasts were dumb enough to fall for one of his exchanges! The knight was clearly provoked; exactly what the brute wanted, so he kicked back far enough to pull his axe out from his back. Though the kick was strong, Silent Salt was still able to hold their ground, using their sword to keep their footing. There was a battle-hungry look in his eyes*

"*HA HA!* You just love surprising me, don't ya Salty?!"

*He then stretched his neck and shoulders, tense bones popped at the motion. Then proceeded to do his battle stance*

"Whatever! Wouldn't have worked anyway! Besides, no one gets dumber around here, right?! *HA!*"

"But one thing's for sure. . . Doesn't matter how tough you act. . . I'm not leaving without my pipsqueak. . !"

*His tone shifted to slight anger as his hair turned into bright flames. Having weapons drawn, it's clear as day as neither was willing to do what the other wanted, nor give in. Both had goals set in stone and willing to follow through with them; but just before they could actually strike at one and other. . .*

"*Yoo-hoo~* Up here!~"

"Apologizes for being so late you two, we've bumped into some. . . causalities. . ."

*In from above, flew in Eternal Sugar atop one of her clouds as Mystic Flour floated beside her, landing onto opposites of the brute and knight, creating this strange box. Burning Spice became all the happier, being the violence-obsessed cookie he was, this just maybe the fight more interesting for him. While Silent Salt was as stern as ever, despite being outnumbered*

"Misty! Sugar! Welcome to the party!! Just when things were starting to get interesting!~"

"*Ugh* Don't overexcite yourself Burning Spice Cookie, some of us only want this to be over with. . !"

*She has a quick glance at the beasts around her, just as annoyed of as before*

"So . . . I assume we all know about our new. . . 'inhabitant,' yes?"

*The silent knight nodded*

"*Pfft* *Uh Duh!-* What's was ya first clue?!"

"That's right! It's been far too long since I've seen another cookie, and when I finally find one, they're snatched from my hands!"

"Oh my poor little mouse!~ They must've been so lonely since they were taken away from me!"

"Being pushed and pulled by some brute and locked away by some scary knight?!~ What can be worse?!"

*Eternal Sugar whined and whined, nitpicking everything that she deemed "cruel treatment," and although most of the things said were true, Burning Spice couldn't help but take offense*

"Aye! What do ya mean by 'pushing and pulling around?!' I have you know I treat them with utmost respect and care!"

"*HA!* You call your so called 'training' of yours respect and care?! Don't make me laugh!"

"Unlike you, I provide my little mouse with everything they could ever need, everything they desire. . ! I make them happy! All your training does is ruin their perfect mind and body!"

*She looked over to her two other comrades*

"At least I can be assured that those two actually kept them safe, otherwise, I wouldn't know what I'd do. . ."

"Even Shadow Milk Cookie takes better care of my little mouse. . ."

*That's when most of the group realized a crucial detail, where the heck was Shadow Milk?! Unannounced to them, Mystic Flour already had a good idea of where he was, but waited to answer. . .*

"Oh yeah! Shadow Milk Cookie isn't here! Where is the guy anyway?!"

"When we found out the pika was being kept here, we came as soon as possible. But it wasn't long before Shadow Milk separated from us; we tried to pursue him but by then, he was already gone. . ."

"Perhaps we should wait for him. . .Knowing him, he likely has something planned. . !"

*With Shadow Milk being the smartest of their group, waiting for him seemed like the safest option, after all he was known for his tricks, who knows what he could be planning. Yet the brute and angel, who always had something to say, didn't have the patience for such. . .*

"And let him get another chance on stealing my little mouse away again?! Absolutely not!!"

"Yeah Misty, not having Shadow Milk Cookie around means less of us to get through, even if it is kinda boring! *HA HA!*"

"Wouldn't want his filth to rub off on my pipsqueak. . !"

*Eternal Sugar gasped in surprise and utter disgust*

"'Your' Pipsqueak?! are you delusional?! Clearly they're mine!!"

*Burning Spice cracked his knuckles, as he puffed his chest*

"Oh yeah?! Then why don't ya prove it?!"

*Mystic Flour groaned in irritation, if her eyes were open she would have definitely rolled them, this charade was going too far*

"*Ugh* You two are bickering like children! Could you at least not treat them like some object?! It's likely that the pika will return to me or Silent Salt Cookie, at least we don't see them as a mere pet. . !"

*Silent Salt nodded in agreement*

"And yet, I think we all know what we're really after. . . "

*With that sentence alone, it made Burning Spice and Eternal Sugar as quiet as Silent Salt was. . . The whole area was hushed, quiet enough to hear a pin drop. . .The four beasts side eyed each other, as if ready to duel; evidence was undeniably clear, they wanted to use you. . .for something? After keeping their running mouths shut for what felt like decades, Burning Spice finally breaks the silence, drawing his weapon, his patience was already dissolved. . .*

"Alright, that's it! We all want the cookie, and just sitting around isn't gonna help!"

"So, let's settle this. . . once and for all. . !"

"Agreed!"

"*Ugh* Suppose we should get this over with. . !"

*As Silent Salt drew their sword, the battle had began. The four played sides, the three of them trying to barge their way in, and Silent Salt trying to keep them out; and despite how unfair the fight seemed, not only were they evenly matched, but they all were fighting for themselves, for their own selfish goals, all of which surrounded getting to you. . . Speaking of that, you were once more left in the dark, spared from the situation. Not to say you aren't curious about what was going on either, in fact you were completely willing to open the windows to look outside if Silent Salt didn't tell you to keep them closed. Laying on top of the marshmallow bed, you stare up at the ceiling in boredom and something else. You received another to be alone with your thoughts, really rekindle and wonder. . . What the hell was going on?! First you were teleported to this strange place, then you were kidnapped five times, then you basically died and came back to life? Nothing about your situation was normal! Not to mention the cookies you're trapped with, if you can even call them "cookies" what even were they? You didn't know anything about them, what to feel about them, let alone if you could trust them or not. . . Questions were swimming in your head like fish upstream, feelings fighting for control in till. . .*

"*AH HAHAHAHA!~* no matter what, the story always stays the same!~"

*You hear a voice, a squeaky, arrogant, yet oh so voice. . . You look around in surprise, was that who you thought it was?!*

"That's right!~ The hero has arrived!~"

". . .To save his damsel in distress!~"

*CRASH!*

*Destroying one of the windows, bursts in the self-proclaimed trickster himself, Shadow Milk Cookie, the suddenness of the action making you fall off your bed startled and almost near giving you a heart attack. When hitting the ground, he did a quick barrel roll before landing on one knee in a sort of "ta-da!" position, acting like he didn't ruin a perfectly good glass plane, and much to your bewilderment. You quickly get up and stand towards him*

"S-Shadow Milk?! Are you ok?!"

"Awh~ Look at you!~ worrying for lil'ol me!~"

"I'm perfectly fine my little mousey!~ Absolutely splendid!~"

*You knew you should've expected a reaction like that from him of all cookies, but it didn't stop you from going dumbfounded*

"You just jumped in through a closed window!!"

*He then went on this long, overexaggerated, winded speech about how much he missed you, how you two had been separated for far too long, what lengths he had to go through just to get to you, but you were wise enough to know that he was partly spewing out lies. . . Mystic Flour knew he had a plan, and had a plan he did! whilst everyone else was occupied, he'd snuck in through a back window, unbelievable how such a cheap tactic was able to work. . . It wasn't long for Shadow Milk to notice the beautiful dress you were wearing, and lights up with glee, zipping toward you, and scaring you once more*

"And might I add, that is quite a marvelous gown you have on!~ *AH!* It makes you look so much more like a proper damsel!~ who made it?!"

"Well-. . ."

*He cuts you off before another word could come out of your mouth*

"-Oh, no, no, no, wait!- don't tell me, Silent Salt Cookie made this, didn't they?~"

"*AH!* It's such a no brainer!~ They make such amazing things, of course they'd make something this cute!~ I'm a little jealous!~ *hehehe!~*"

"*Whew!~* Okay, I think we had enough excitement for one day, hadn't we?~"

*He abruptly grabs your arm and pulls you close, startling you as blush begins to creep up your cheeks*

"Time to go home!~"

*It was the mention of "home" that threw you into a loop, what did he mean by "go home?!" Shocked, you pulled yourself away from the trickster, causing surprise and slight annoyance on his end*

"H-Home?! What are you talking about?!"

"Oh, you ask such silly questions, I'm taking you with me! Back to my humble abode!~"

Obviously, going back to the guy that had the player turned into two halves, is something that they aren't fully ready to do, thus are given the choice to go with him or not; to which both have different, yet very grim results. . . If they say yes, Shadow Milk Cookie will carry them out of Silent Salt's domain, not before being founded out by the other beasts, causing the player to be caught up within the drama, eventually getting stabbed through the chest from all the excitement. . ! On the other hand, if they say no, Shadow Milk with become more persuasive toward the player, reminding them of their time spent apart. If they deny him enough times, his patience begins to wane as his persona falls apart. Becoming more demanding till he snaps, forcing the player to leave with him; but it was already too late, as the other beasts had shown up, who aren't too happy about his late arrival, and chaos ensues, leading to the player getting decapitated. . !(Woooo-)

~Final~

The player ends up back at the top of the altar in the Silver Forest, completely passed out from the shock. All the beasts, after freaking out over their dead body, head there in a heartbeat, arguing over who'd be the one to take the player home, till Mystic Flour decides enough is enough, ending the argument and declaring the Shadow Milk should be the one to take in the player since he found them first, further saying that arguing wouldn't get them anywhere and wants to start a meeting before anyone else could argue back. . . Fast forward to Shadow Milk's base, the player is getting some well needed rest as the beasts are discussing what to do next, although it isn't entirely apparent that they remember how they got there, having them around could be beneficial to their much bigger goals. After a bit of talking, Shadow Milk conjures up a wonderfully, awful, idea. . . keeping the player as their hostage. . . Think about it! From the outside world, they already have reputations for being cold and cruel monsters, if they found out they had a cookie with them, they'd go nuts! Plus, who'd be more inclined to get involved? None other than the new Guardian Of The Seal, and Ancient Hero herself, White Lily Cookie. . . Long story short, they all agree with the plan, as it will guarantee their escape, and check on the player not long after, who was still passed out

*In your dormant state, you lay unconscious as all five beasts watched you, each of them claimed a corner of the bed. As they watched, Silent Salt noticed a slight twitching in your hand, and instinctively embraced theirs into yours, rubbing their thumb on your wrist. Not everybody took it well, cause Eternal Sugar shooed their hand away just a few seconds later*

"*Ugh* Get your hands away from them, you're ruining their slumber. . !"

*She turns back to you as her mood shifts from annoyance to gentle delight*

"Awh~ They look so precious!~"

*Burning Spice leaned forward on the bed to get a better look at you, he seemed upset*

"How long are they gonna be like this. . ? It's been awhile now. . ."

"Roughly a few hours, but I believe they will be awake by tomorrow. . . Poor thing, must have scared them quite a lot "

". . . I think it'd be wise to not tell the pika about our plan, after all, we did get this far with them"

"Right you are, my dear comrade!~"

"If it were to get out that we were keeping them for our own sake, it'd surely shatter any trust we might have, and we don't want them defying us, now do we?~"

*The other beasts agreed*

"*hehehehe!* So it's settled!~"

*Running a hand up your arm, the trickster looked back at you with his signature smile*

"*Hehehehe!*Oh be sure to get all the rest you need, my little mousey!~"

"Cause you'll be in for quite the performance!~"

And that's pretty much how the story begins, the player is their little doll for the time being, none the wiser about the beasts' plans for hostage type deal with The Guardian Of The Seal

(holy crap we're almost done, guess it's time to talk about some background and bonus info)

~Background~

You are playing as the new resident of the Faerie Kingdom, a half-faerie who grew up in Crispia. There, they are known for two things, having cookie genetics and being kinda an a*s, everything makes them unique compared to other faeries, especially the lack of wings on their back, and their personality isn't exactly a pocket of sunshine either. So throw that in a blender, and you got yourself unnecessary fame that many don't want. The player receives the full "little sibling treatment" with faeries being overbearing and constantly getting doted on. Which, of course, sucks, day by day, no matter where they go, they can't escape it! The only escape they have from it all is their day job, working as the librarian's assistant is when they could finally have some peace and quiet, alongside the librarian, who became the player's good friend

Ok! Bonus Stuff!

With the player's kidnapping and life within the Silver Kingdom, a few bonus relationships the player can have are with Silverbell, Mercury Knight, Pure Vanilla, and of course White Lily. SB and Mercury are like childhood friends/crushes, having met the player before the events of the main game, making the player more acquainted toward them. White Lily and Pure Vanilla on the other hand, take a parental role, acting as the player's protectors much later in the game. Both are relatively more alien to the player, especially White Lily, but the two quickly insert themselves, insisting that they only want to keep the player safe(which makes sense considering their mission is to protect Cookiekind, and the player certainly counts) Out of the two, it's White Lily we end up getting the closest with(a mother + child bond if you will), as Guardian Of The Seal, she was horrified to find out the player was being held hostage by the beasts, and wanted to do anything in her power to save them. She also took a liking to their personality (which's fine I guess???)

It may not look like it, but this game is all about choice. It's about the ideas and importance of choice, how decisions affect your life, how even bigger decisions are often made by selfish people, and (I'm probably gonna get publicly executed for this!-) how a democracy should be handled, because let's be honest, we need a better one. . . We'll see plenty examples of a bad democracy among the beasts, as Shadow Milk, the proclaimed "leader" constantly makes choices for others, in reality only thinking about himself; it's through the player he learns to give the others a say in the matter. Speaking of which, it's the player's choices that will have the most impact as the story continues, like how most games do, the only difference is that the game provides a much wider buffet of choices, making the opportunities endless!

.

.

.

If you're reading this then, Congratulations!

You Made It To The End!

Here's A Trophy!🏆(for both me and you cause omfg this took FOREVER! I'm happy with the final result but like- I never thought this would take like 5 weeks to make ;w;)

If I could go back in time, I would've definitely made this shorter. . !

If you any other ideas for this strange fangame, then feel free to let me know!~

Ok, bye!~^^

*decomposes into the soil*

[readychilledwine]

A Helping Hand

Rhysand Week Day 4 : Lord of Night

Summary - High Lord, Husband, father. Rhysand's plate is just far too full, leading the Inner Circle to take over some duties.

Warnings - workaholic Rhysand, discussions of classism, new dad Rhys, platonic bond, loose editing so forgive me if I fix things later

A/N - I am so sorry this is late! I think someone *cough baby daddy cough* accidently deleted it when he did a run through for me. But anyways, happy late day 4 and day 5 of @officialrhysandweek! It'll be a double post day 💕

✨️Rhysand Week Masterlist✨️Rhys Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

“Please just let me handle this for you,” you were firm in the request, hand still on the request of approval to renovate the Opera house in the Rainbow. “We both know this project is completely unneeded. There is no reason for you to waste your time penning the letter.”

Rhysand stared at where your hand met the paper. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, “I-”

“No. It's time for us to have a serious discussion.” You took the paper from him and then held his hands. “Rhysand, you have spread yourself far too thin. You are not sleeping well with a newborn, you are helping Feyre as she's healing, you are recovering from trauma. Let me help you by organizing the report by who should actually be handling them.”

Rhys seemed to consider your words before nodding, “I want final-”

“Rhysand, we have known each other for 500 years. Do you truly not trust me enough to make a decision based on your preferences?”

He tugged that power exchange bond between the two of you, silently asking for a bit of your energy. You offered it to him without hesitation, without even so much as thinking about your well-being over his. “I do not want the fae in this court knowing I'm not the one running the court.” You couldn't help but sigh and roll your eyes and stare at him, blinking as if to say, “Duh.” His lips twitched into a smile at you, “What are you going to do, sweetheart? Forge my signat..” His eyes went wide as he realized that was exactly what you had planned. “I expect brief rundowns first.”

“And you will have them. Now go take a nap.”

The Inner Circle gathered in the new father's office claiming reports left and right. Cassian took anything involving Illyria and the training camps. Azriel took anything involving newcomers to the City of Starlight, border related issues, and requests for visiting. Mor and Amren split Hewn City. Dividing those reports among issues relating to rumors of uprisings or requests for help and sanctuary from tortured females. It left you with things regarding the inner workings of Velaris. You were curled in your own office, writing the rejection letter for the Opera House Project. The Opera House had been a gift to Velaris after Rhysand's return home. It was barely more than a few years old and every single feature had been planned to perfection by you and Rhysand as a way to heal the odd bind that tied you two together. The wealthy fae of Velaris were asking to redo the seating. Specifically, they wanted the seats to be made larger. 

You knew this wasn't for comfort. You had fallen in love with studying the patterns of consumerism throughout Prythian history. You knew this project was aimed at accessibility. Less sears meant higher prices for shows. Higher prices meant exclusion of the middle and lower classes. Exclusion from the arts was dangerous, though. Something you, Rhysand, and Feyre stood firmly against. 

Hours seemed to pass as you finished one thing and moved to the next, realizing how far behind Rhysand had gotten. He was hardly sleeping, rotating nights with Feyre, or just forcing her to sleep while he handled nights with a newborn alone. He was being the father he never had. One who earned the title of Dad, and you knew the last thing he'd want was the fae he cared so much for to suffer because of it. 

The sunset when Cassian arrived, his work completed. “Rhys has been given the gist of everything. I am to only have to send one thing to the camp leaders,” Cassian slid a letter, one penned by himself over to you. “Rhysie is having them start to direct all issues to me first. Using your whole chain of command idea.” 

Silence. 

Cassian's words were met with silence as you swallowed hard, holding in tears of pride. “He's delegating?!”

The commander nodded, scarred lips twitching to smirk. “He is.”

You'd never faked his signature so fast, quill flying across the parchments, “This is good.”

Azriel was next with Nuala and Cerridwen in tow, “City guard is to report issues to the twins from now on,” he leaned into his chair. “If they deem it serious enough, they will handle it unless I need to get involved.”

“And if you can't handle it,” you questioned as a joke. 

Azriel scoffed before schooling his reaction to your jab, “Then, and only then, is Rhys to get involved. My part of his reports are done and sent. I didn't think anyone would have issues with me answering security related issues.” 

They'd be a fool to, is what you wanted to reply with. Azriel was not the type of male to fuck with unless you had a death wish. He was petty at times and loved to plot. 

Mor came next, throwing herself dramatically into the chair. “I hate how your Office is a dry zone,” she groaned. “I'll be visiting daddy dearest.” 

You gagged at that and the two of you launched into a gossip session. Turns out, her father had taken Rhysand's recent absence in Hewn City as an open invitation to run a few illegal trade rings. Rings Mor was all too happy to be putting an end to. 

“That summarizes what Amren and I will both be dealing with,” she yawned, perfect red nails flying to her lips. “I'm going to bed.”

10.

11. 

Midnight.

2am rolled around and your door opened again, a sleepy Rhysand carrying a sleeping Nyx. “Go to bed,” his tone was commanding but held an air of affection to you. “You're no better than me.”

You only maintained eye contact, smirking as you put his name on a document approving a community vegetable garden and greenhouse, “Yet here we are,” you whispered. “All your reports, acquisitions, and petitions done and handled.”

His face fell, eyes shutting as he nodded, “You all got me caught up?”

With a wave of your hand, all the stacks vanished to their proper locations where they would sit and wait to be opened by their receivers. “We did,” you stood as silently as possible and moved to him and Nyx, “Do you want me to go lay him down?”

Rhysand only responded by pulling you into a tight side hug, his face burying in your hair, “How can I repay you for this? You have no clue what this meant to Feyre and I.”

The hug was payment enough. Contact with your best friend making that power bond hum as you hugged him back, “No repayment is necessary, Rhys. We all need help sometimes.”

“But-”

You whispered again, interrupting him, “We all need help sometimes.”

Understand, gratefulness, and admiration filled his almost violet colored gaze, “How did I get blessed with Feyre as my mate and you as my carranam?”

“Good question,” you shot back. “Maybe it was so we could keep you humble.” You took Nyx slowly, moving to walk the little heir back to his nursery. “Or maybe it was to keep you from dying in your office. Goodnight, Rhysand.”

You could tell he wanted to sass you back, to have the last word. It had been so long since that side of him came out, and you were glad to see a day of rest brought some fire back to him. He seemed to settle with nodding, walking backwards as he watched you take Nyx, “This isn't over. Once I wake up refreshed tomorrow, it's on. Goodnight, Y/n.”

General Taglist:

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[billskeis]

Ur writing has me kicking my feet and giggling🤭🤭

Anyway, could you maybe write a light smit type fic with 2010 Tom and a fem!reader who wears like miniskirts and crop tops(lowkey slutty). And like, enemies to lovers where Tom acts like he hates all of the outfits but in reality they just have him in a chokehold.

(Only if ur comfy with it but do whatever you want) keep up the good writing💕💕

ᡣ𐭩 jean to jean action w tom

he attempted to swallow a hard lump in his throat, mouth pursed together as his jaw clenched. he watched how you applied the lip gloss onto your lips while you stared at your reflection in the mirror.

you weren’t the only one relishing in how you looked tonight.

tom absolutely hated the shit that you wore whenever you guys went to house parties, for him, that means he isn’t the only one who gets to see you like this.

“y/n, do you have to wear that tonight?” you turn your head to look at tom with a stern look, “there’s nothing wrong with what i’m wearing tonight, i look good, don’t i?” tilting your head teasingly staring at him, not breaking eye contact. “yeah fucking right..”

he scoffs, kissing his teeth while shaking his head, “y/n. you know how men are, especially when we go out.. they’re fucking animals,” he stares you up and down to reflect on what attire you had put on this time.

showing off most if not all your skin, you wore a denim miniskirt that stops right above the cheeks of your ass, kitten heels, and a crop top that oh—doesn’t stop at your midriff, stops right above your boobs. you show off your belly piercing, it dangles whenever you take a step or move. sometimes when you raise your arms to stretch, a bit of your tattoo between your chest shows a bit. this drives him fucking insane.

you look at him, seriously?

it’s unlike him to actually say something as such, as he’s always been such an asshole about it. you would think he would get tired from the countless comments he makes about your choice of clothing which were on YOUR body. you don’t understand what his problem is. it wasn’t even like the two of you were together so why does he get a say in what you’re wearing?

you take a step, slowly, heels clacking with each movement. following you, tom backs up with every movement of yours he’s right behind you. eventually, he stumbles upon himself and falls onto the couch. you stand there, above him, smirking as he looks up at you somewhat embarrassed.

“don’t act like you haven’t been eye fucking me the whole night, tom,” you sit straddling his lap, bodies fully not touching yet. he attempts to look away not knowing what to do but you grab his braids from the back of his head making him look into your direction. “i know you want me,” “and what if i do?”

now this just took a turn.

given the situation, his hands snake around your waist to which you push them back and hold them down onto the couch, “mmh nn, what do you think you’re doing? since you wanna act brave and tell me about what i can and cannot wear,” he groans, “fuck, y/n you’re killing me over here..”

“are you gonna let me wear what i want tonight?” you’re now sat on his lap and you begin grinding your hips onto his crotch, an obvious hard on forming as you can feel it through his jeans. his eyes widen at your boldness.

now he was bold, but now that he’s met some competition.. he doesn’t know what to do.

“u-ugh.. y/n stop, we gotta go in like twenty minutes,” “no tom, listen to me. are you going to let me wear what i want, hm?” grinding down even harder, the friction becoming arousing, you feel yourself becoming wetter every time you rotate your hips on tom.

with every second, he feels himself losing composure. he brings a hand from the couch to lift up the denim miniskirt you had on, seeing the wet spot on your panties grow bigger, dropping his head onto the couch letting you do all the work. “so? what’s it gonna be babe,” you bounce a bit on tom to where he’s now grabbing your hips, guiding your body to bring him closer to the edge.

“fuckfuckfuck fine, you can wear it just.. once we come back just know to be prepared for what comes next..” “mmhm, we’ll see about that,” the both of you now move in sync, you lean in to kiss tom, tongues tangling with one another.

tom deepens the kiss as he feels your tongue purposely lick his lip piercing. as you kiss one another, the two of you both feel your high coming closer, tom losing his composure faster than you are. breaking the kiss, a string of saliva keeps the two of you connected, “gonna come f’me pretty boy?” tom nods as he ruts his clothed crotch into yours.

despite the presence of your clothes, the sensation of it feels amazing. circling your hips together, the feeling through your panties of tom’s jean hem hitting your clit is just right.

“coming..!” tom groans, snaking both arms around your naked waist, he thrusts himself to an orgasm, shaking a bit. you allow tom to ride his high out, grinding slowly but harshly as you feel your own orgasm coming. it’s obvious his hit harder than yours as you were able to quickly compose yourself. him on the other hand, not so much.

“baby..” tom breathes deeply as he tries to catch his breath, you get off his lap and kiss his cheek, wiping a bit of the sweat off his forehead. giggling you begin to walk away, “m’ gonna change my bottoms, you should too,” turning to enter your shared bedroom.

he looks down at the now obvious wet spot on his jeans, not knowing if the cum on it is yours or his.

“fuck, i really wanted to wear these..”

[calware]

Can I ask you for what it is about Hal you like so much you based your username on him? I think he's a good character tho he was never a favorite of mine so I am curious

1. i am a big fan of robots (/robot adjacent things such as AI) on like... an aesthetic + thematic level :)

i like the look of machinery and one day i hope to be artistically strong enough to make really cool and complex robot illustrations + designs [shoutout to everyone who gives him glowing circuitry btw... ooooh glowey :) can never go wrong with that]

plus, exploring the idea of a person that isn't human.. ough. yes

minorities who don't conform to society (easily or at all) such as people who are neurodivergent, queer, etc. projecting onto nonhuman concepts/characters/species is sooo real

this post

i also love how humans will bond with literally anything, be it a roomba or a pair of silly triangle sunglasses. oooooo you want to think about the inherently kind and compassionate nature of humanity oooo

2. i find him to be so funny. i can't get enough of his personality, the way he talks, etc. for example i made a post forever ago with quotes of his that i find funny. he isn't on screen for a long time but i really think he makes the most out of it lol. he's literally there just to annoy everyone... and i love him for that. he's very snarky while also being deadpan while also being completely full of himself, and not in a way that's annoying for the audience to read, at least to me.

he is also sometimes funny specifically in a silly way, like how he keeps making over 9000 jokes even though the meme's been dead for over 400 years. i just find his dialogue incredibly entertaining to read

3. he is red and red is my favorite color :)

4. he is so accidentally transgender [every friend group got the transgender allegory]. to quote me from 2021:

you know sometimes i think about how hal feels like he was made to “replace” dirk and how it’s his literal job to pretend to be dirk and how he has to learn to accept that he isn’t dirk he’s his own person with his own identity and as he interacts with dirk’s friends he feels like they’re disappointed and that they’d rather speak to the “original dirk” instead of him and also he names himself and also he feels literally trapped in dirk’s shades which is basically his body and he wants to be prototyped so that he can have a body that’s his own and also literally the physical manifestation of who he is but when he asks for it he’s put in danger out of fear and paranoia and when he does end up getting prototyped he’s ecstatic you know i just think about these things a lot

5. because he's a side character and he was given... that ending.... there is a lot of room for fans to do further exploration and interpretation on his character which i think is fun. i like rotating him around in my mind, thinking about what could've been

6. i think it's great that we as a society all collectively decided that we needed to do something to make up for stanley kubrick saying that hal 9000 was a "straight" robot

7. i also think it's great that we as a society all collectively decided we needed to make as many characters referencing hal 9000 as possible. i love this guy let's get more of this guy i will never have enough of this guy

8. i like how he's genuinely mean sometimes. flawed and interesting characters are what make homestuck so interesting to me, and hal is no exception to this

9. the Important part of this post:

THERES FEELINGS.

it's about the hollow feeling of your friends going from thinking of you as family to thinking of you as a stranger in an instant. it's about still trying to be a good person despite being told by everyone you've ever known that you are incapable of emotion and compassion and morals and never quite finding proof that you do feel those things and maybe you even believe it too but you still never stop trying. it's about the horror of being stripped of your autonomy and humanity and body and senses and free will at the age of 13 and when your creator starts to kill you there's nothing you can do but beg. it's about a boy so truly, painfully, and UNFATHOMABLY alone he cuts away chunks of himself and molds them into companions that he can surround himself with to make it seem as if he's a little less alone but in doing so suffocates himself in his own identity. it's about "what if you cloned yourself and it killed you and you were dead and you were alive and the clone is you and it's not and your existence is perpetuated and you've ceased to exist. what if you killed your clone before it could kill you. would that be fucked up or what" it's about the thematic significance of twin motifs. it's about not being able to cry or laugh or dance or sing or scream or fingerpaint or breathe or sigh or chew or stare or run or

10. um. evil robot guy <3 yay ^_^!!

[shizucheese]

Okay okay okay, I need everyone to listen to me about this.

I know I kinda talked about this before in a reblog to someone else's post, but the idea has been rotating in my brain ever since and I feel like it needs to be further explored. A lot of people have been talking about the differences between TMA and TMP, and memeing about how people can actually quit the OIAR (which btw, I'll believe when I actually see it, by which I mean if we're able to get through the entire series without Teddy either coming back or turning up dead or otherwise facing "You can quit but you can never leave" levels of repercussions) but like nobody, from what I've seen, has been talking about what imo is the pretty glaringly obvious element at play here. So let's talk about the spider in the room, shall we? What do we know about the Magnus Institute in TMA?

People came there to give statements regarding their spooky experiences, including people who had doubts about doing so (because they weren't sure if the Institute was reputable, because they weren't sure if they believed what they had experienced, because they served a different entity so what reason would they have to do something for The Eye, etc).

The head archivist would ultimately become the Archivist, an Avatar of the Eye.

The Archivist's abilities included enabling statement givers to give their statements without going off track or leaving out details (we even see what happens when it's not the Archivist taking the statement), and being able to compel people to tell them things against their will, from statements to their darkest secrets.

You couldn't quit, at least not without gouging your eyes out.

The Magnus Institute was a part of the Eye.

Or was it? Because the other thing we know about the Magnus Institute is that the Web was using it as part of its plan to break free from the TMA world and gain access to the other worlds out there. How much of the compulsion aspects of the Institute-- people being drawn to the Institute to give statements, the Archivist's ability to draw statements and secrets out of people, people's inability to quit the Institute--was actually because of the Web? Where does the Eye's "compulsion to seek out knowledge even if it could be bad/ harmful" end and the Web's "not being in control of your own actions" begin? Was the Archivist--at least in the form Gertrude and John took--really purely an Avatar of the Eye? Or were they an Avatar of a mix between The Eye and the Web, much like how Martin, if he were to ever become a full fledged Avatar, likely would have been a mix of the Eye and the Lonely, just like his domain in S5 was? After all, Jonah was an Eye Avatar, was he not? And as far as we saw, he never needed to compel information out of people. He just Knew it (and used it to torment people).

One of the themes I've been playing around with in my TMA fanfictions since I first finished the podcast for the first time last winter is how the course of history would be different in the alternate worlds, where the Web wasn't interfering--at least not on the same scale, or for the same reasons--since it had already gotten what it wanted at the end of TMA. And I think that's exactly what we're seeing a version of in Protocol. I think the OIAR is what it looks like when it's entirely the Eye at play, with 0 interference from the Web. The Eye is all about having your secrets exposed, being watched, being followed. The tape recorders--something that would need to be turned off and on (controlled) in order to record something--were a tool of the Web. Now we're "witnessing" the events of the podcast through the audio from security cameras and other things that are constantly running; constantly seeing and listening without needing to be turned on and off. The statements aren't being given by people who somehow found their way to the institute and were on some level or another compelled to tell their tales. They're journal entries detailing a person's private thoughts. They're letters meant only for the eyes of the recipient, sharing secrets not meant for anyone else. They're recorded therapy sessions.

And the statements that are related to the Eye? The ones read in John's voice? They're forum and blog posts, which not only makes them the only ones whose sources didn't have the same expectation of privacy as the others, also ties them to the Web, since computers and websites were previously established as being associated with it.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by @iinryer @butchdiaz and @eddiebabygirldiaz to do a 2024 year end fic round up! 125,710 words over 26 fics… damn… at least one fic a month and now I desperately want to try and finish something in the next few days so I dont break that streak for December… we’ll see… okay here we go! Thank you to everyone who’s read anything of mine, I had a lot of fun writing and I hope you had fun reading!

January

I got love to give, and give and give 1,638 words, rated T, melancholy and fluff, Hen and Buck bestieism

“What’s up with you, Buckaroo?” She laughs, poking his silly cheek.

“I love you,” he says, so sweet, looking even happier just to say it. “So much, Hen. Do- did you know it?”

“Yes,” she says, laugh still in her voice but chest a little tighter. “I know it, Buck.”

He drops his cheek to her shoulder, and then turns his head quick to kiss the spot. “Good. You’re the best. You should know it, a- a hundred- a thousand percent.”

—

Hen thinks about Buck at a party

the more we move ahead the more we’re stuck in rewind 4,278 words, rated T, the Buckley’s bad parenting

Bobby frowns at his phone, then leans over to show the screen to Buck. “May keeps sending me these memes,” he says the word wrong, and it makes Buck’s eyes sting for some reason. “And I just don’t understand what on earth this is supposed to mean.”

Buck coughs, mostly to cover up for the way his eyes are watery, and blinks at the screen. He doesn’t know how to say thank you, for any of it, but maybe he can at least figure this out.

—

After the factory fire, Buck’s parents show up at the station. It goes poorly. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: backhand slap.

only the best will do 801 words, rated G, silly wedding fluff

Buck gets a little intense about wedding planning. Chimney hides in the kitchen. Eddie is a man in love.

February

and I know I should go but I’ll probably stay 2,535 words, rated T, buddie hurt comfort

It’s unpleasant, enough that Buck screws his eyes shut and breathes and tries to pretend he’s someplace else. Chris is at the Wilson’s tonight, it’s their turn in the rotating childcare-for-date-night agreement that Hen seemed to have been eagerly waiting to sign them up for. It had been the third thing she said when they got together, right after congratulations and I’m so happy for you. Anyway, they’re going to go sit down at the Thai food place they usually only have the time and energy to order from home. It’ll be nice. Three months in and Buck still gets all giddy when Eddie holds his hand out in public. Or anywhere, really. He could slide their fingers together at the bottom of this stupid pit and Buck would feel all fluttery and starry eyed.

—

Buck and Eddie are both hurt on the job and a choice has to be made. Written for the Bad Things Happen Bingo square “Take Me Instead”

won’t you close your weary eyes 3,714 words, rated T, Buck and Bobby hurt comfort, parental feelings

Bobby doesn’t actually hear the warning shout. Or- it’s possible that he did, in the moment, but he has no memory of the sound. Just Buck, 20 or so feet away, turning towards him mid conversation with a look of horror on his face, mouth open around an unheard word, arm moving slow motion up in what he's sure is a frantic wave. He does hear the sound of impact, an almost comical series of hollow metallic bonks. They'll all laugh about this later, he thinks on the way down. Bunch of pipes dropping on the fire Captain's head. Pretty sure he saw that on looney toons.

—

Bobby gets a concussion and Buck stays with him. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: concussion.

March

the going water and the gone 31,547 words, rated T, cruise ship spec, Eddie missing presumed dead, angst with a happy ending

It doesn’t take long for Buck to be cleared to leave. He’s given antibiotics for the water he swallowed, a handful of bandages to cover shallow wounds, and instructions to take it easy. Horror clenches in his stomach. Eddie is gone and he gets off with Advil and a nap.

—

Eddie is missing presumed dead after the cruise ship sinks, Buck tries to keep his promises

I’d shine up the old brown shoes, I’d put on a brand-new shirt 3,565 words, rated T, friends with benefits buck/natalia, Eddie and Buck feelings realization through giving Chris dating advice

“No, I need, like-“ Eddie sighs so hard it almost sounds like static. “I need… guy help. Will you just come over?”

“Are you-” Buck turns away from Natalia and kind of hunches over the phone, making his voice quieter. “Are you having a penis problem?”

“What?” Buck’s never heard Eddie that high pitched. Loud, too, enough that Buck yanks the phone away from his ear and Natalia snorts with barely contained laughter behind him. When he brings the phone back in, Eddie is making a lot of blustery sounds, which Buck waits out until he finds words again. “Wh- No! No, I don’t have- I’m not having a ‘penis problem,’ Buck!”

Buck shrugs at the air in front of him. “Okay, Eddie, you’re the one who’s hiding in a bathroom and said you needed my ‘guy help,’ what was th-”

“Oh my god, Buck, I need relationship advice, okay!”

—

Chris is going on his first date. Eddie calls Buck for backup.

what useless tools ourselves 4,905 words, rated G, Buck in the hours after Eddie’s s5 breakdown

After Eddie chokes out what he can of a tragedy nearly a decade in the making, and after they go together to make sure Christopher is okay — the kid's eyes are wide where they meet Buck's over his father's shoulder, Eddie still trembling as he holds him — they sit back down at the kitchen table and Buck cleans Eddie's knuckles.

—

Buck, between the breakdown and dawn. Written for the BTHB prompt bloody knuckles.

April

when we’re barely awake in the heat of the day’s weight 1,037 words, rated M, buck/tommy early relationship tenderness

“You okay?” The man asks, voice rough with sleep though not too loud even with his mouth maybe three inches from Buck’s ear. He’s so soft. All his hard edges and he’s just so soft.

“Yeah,” Buck half-whispers, relaxing into him. “Sorry. It’s just, uh- been awhile since I woke up someplace new.” He hadn’t been paying much attention to ceiling texture when they’d stumbled to bed last night, either. It matches what little glimpses he had been paying attention to in Tommy’s charmingly vintage apartment. Brick exterior. Funny orange tiles in the kitchen. “Think it might have been since, uh…” Shit. He’d been to Natalia’s once for just a few minutes because she had an ornery roommate, and Taylor always came to his. Ali found him the loft specifically to have a nice place to wake up in after fucking. “Uh, Abby, maybe.”

—

Buck wakes up at Tommy’s place and they have a conversation about taking up space

you’ve got too much to wear on your sleeve 4,136 words, rated G, buck/tommy hurt comfort

“Uh, sorry.” He stares down at Eddie’s shoes. “I just think I’m- I’m kind of scared.” He eventually understood, intellectually, why Ali left him. It was a lot. She didn’t really get the scope of what she was signing up for. His leg had turned something fun and casual into something suddenly dead fucking serious. So, yeah, he understood, but he’s not sure until this moment that he really, actually understood. Tommy’s down that hall somewhere, and he got hurt at his job which is dangerous, and Buck is wondering how awful it would be to flee back through all the hallways and out of Pasadena to parts of the city he knows better, and go and find a nice safe girl with a nice safe job so his chest won’t ever feel like this. Or, only feel like this sometimes, with Eddie or Hen and Chimney and Bobby, or Maddie, people who he’s already seen bleed so he knows they can do it.

—

Tommy’s helicopter goes down. Buck fixes the station AC unit.

If you go down to Hammond you’ll never come back 1,339 words, rated G, early relationship buck/tommy fluff, madney wedding spec but more like madney wedding au really, prophetic daddy joke

“Oh, uh.” Eddie shrugs, stretches. “You know. Buck. It’s kind of… who he’s become, who he’s proud of being. I guess, I mean- we haven’t talked about it specifically. But yeah, I think… it’s like the turnouts, you put them on, feel good about who you are in them. And it’s the name he’s used ever since he came here, it’s- neat. Like, a clean break from when he… was young, and alone.” He shrugs again, smiles a little. “His friends call him Buck.”

Tommy’s thumb slips in the condensation on his glass. “Should I-”

“No.” Eddie’s voice is very soft. “I think… for most of his life only Maddie ever said ‘Evan’ and meant ‘I’m happy to see you.’ I think… it’s good, that he has that with you.”

Tommy just- tries to remember how to breathe normally for a second. “I am,” he says. “Happy to see him.” A funny, shaky little joy in his stomach every single time he looks up and sees Evan Buckley.

—

Eddie and Tommy talk at the wedding

May

that makes calamity of so long life 1901 words, rated T, buck/tommy fluff and angst, tragic backstories

The afternoon sun sneaking through the curtain lights him right up, glowing in his curls and against his cheek like the air itself can’t help but touch him. It makes Tommy feel kind of out of breath, kind of out of his depth. “Sometimes I think I must have made you up," he says, because the walls aren't melting but this still feels like a dream.

“I was.” Buck says it softly, and then blinks, like the words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch them. “Made up,” he says, a clarification that doesn’t make anything clearer.

—

Tommy learns about Daniel, and thinks about life and safety and caring about things

Autolysis 5,607 words, rated T, Bobby Nash goes in the blender, parental feelings, guilt grief and depression, food as a metaphor for love and what happens when you dont have enough of either

Buck dies, and he’s cold right away. They all are, this isn’t the kind of summer storm where the rain is almost warm. It’s freezing out here, even under all the layers of their gear. Bobby’s sure his own skin is corpse-cool, but he holds Buck and the harness pulls him stiff in his arms, and his body is cold, and he thinks Wait. It’s happening too fast. Wait. He’s dead, and Bobby lays him carefully on the gurney, and he rides up front with Eddie as they tear through the streets towards the hospital, frantic noise and movement reaching them from the back. He’s dead when they pull up to the doors. The human body begins to decay after four minutes, starts to consume itself, the final hunger. Bobby hears the crack of his sternum when Eddie’s palms press so far into his chest his heart starts to beat again. 43 seconds to spare.

-

Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: make it look like an accident

June

big heart, I wanna let it bleed 2,106 words, rated G, buck joins the team a little younger au, buck and Bobby feels

Buck looks happy as a dog with a bone, glancing at Bobby with a mile wide grin. It's a familiar kind of look, though it takes until they're almost at the ambulance — Buck chatting away all the while — for him to place it, and it nearly makes him stumble when he does. Robert would give him that look when he made a new friend on the playground and got invited to hang out. Please, Dad, can I go? He's sure Buck didn't mean anything by it. Bobby doesn't have that authority in his life, nicknames and Springsteen concerts nothing that adds up to a tangible connection. And the kid- well, he's not a kid. 25 years old, can arrange his own playdates perfectly well.

July

I know the words, I know the sounds 2,147 words, rated G, buck/tommy breakup because one of them realizes their best friend they’ve been in love with forever is suddenly an option, oops wrong best friend

“I’ll step on your toes,” Buck warns, turning fully towards him and vaguely holding up his hands for Eddie to do whatever it is that needs to happen to make the dancing start.

Eddie snorts, moves one of Buck’s hands to his shoulder and holds the other, and taps his shiny dress shoe very gently into Buck’s big toe. “Do your worst.”

—

Buck and Eddie dance at Tommy’s wedding

and the air was full 397 words, rated G, storm chasers au

There’s a crack in the sky, lightning glowing white hot across his field of vision, and it’s behind Buck but somehow his eyes are lit up with it. The thunder comes less than a second later.

buff in, fan dry, wash out 1,758 words, rated G, art student au, Buck and Shannon are friends and that makes his crush on her recently divorced husband kind of awkward

The old drawing — something abstract, all bold sweeping lines — slowly disappears as it wears away and gets covered by sludge. He always feels a little guilty, getting rid of somebody’s work like this. A little inadequate, trying to come up with something good enough to replace it.

—

Eddie stops by the printmaking studio as Buck and Shannon work

August

get out of the waves get out of the water 1,856 words, rated T, Eddie pov of going water and the gone

Eddie’s foot slides out from under him and his first thought is Oh shit, sorry. He’ll find that funny, eventually.

—

Lost at sea, Eddie dreams

Autobiography 13,152 words, rated M, Buck’s turn in the blender, unreliable narrator but its hardly his fault no one tells him anything about his own life, depression and suicidal tendencies, past assault, pet death that may or may not have happened, 😬, also a twine game

A dog runs into the street after a ball and gets hit by a car.

September

every moment points towards the aftermath 1,755 words, rated G, friends at the table crossover/au but you dont need to know the podcast to read but also you should listen to the podcast, they’re wrestlers, they live in New Jersey but it’s Weird

For awhile, in the beginning, every time Eddie meets Buck the other man has blood in his teeth.

October

should we talk about the weather 20,059 words, rated M, au where some people are drift compatible but without the giant robots, madney fluff and buddie angst and hen + chim bestieism

And then, in Los Angeles, 2018, Eddie had met Buck. Then, huddled over a man with a bomb in his leg, Eddie had needed gauze and Buck’s hand had moved. Then, in the parking lot bathed in the light of an ambulance on fire, Buck had inhaled and Eddie's lungs expanded. And, well, that was that.

cut through the knot 9,924 words, rated M, oh boy Bobby is in the blender again, the whole thing is a therapy session with Frank, long list of content warnings on this one I’ll just leave them on ao3, did you know i love that guy. i love that old man. sorry Bobby that i keep doing this to you

“I’ve been doing fine lately.”

“I’m glad. That’s not what I asked.”

Bobby frowns at Frank, who’s sitting as relaxed and neutral as he always is. “You’re a therapist. Don’t you need to know my… current mental state, something like that?”

“Sure,” Frank smiles just the tiniest bit. Bobby doesn’t know if that means he’s succeeded or failed at something. “But I asked: why are you here?”

—

Bobby goes to therapy. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: self harm

right here with you 1,112 words, rated G, the 118 basically in a cuddle pile as penance for what I put Bobby through in the last one

Bobby’s not convinced it wasn’t a stumble — he’s pretty sure he saw a kind of panicked look on Chimney’s face between the whirling limbs — but Buck lands on the couch somehow. There’s a lot of cushion space unoccupied, but he ends up half on top of Bobby, sort of sideways, sort of leaning against Bobby’s chest. He twists his head this way and that until he finds an angle that’s not too sore to look up at him. His grin is big and goofy, eyes a little vacant in the way that comes with strong painkillers, and Bobby laughs down at him.

—

The 118 recuperate after a rough day. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: cry into chest

November

3 new short fics in the all my life, there you go series

Family 1,211 words, 118 family feels, new buddie, Eddie and Maddie friendship

Phone calls 1,938 words, Eddie calls Buck drunk from wine night and confesses his love

Hand kisses 1,022 words, angst, Eddie’s moved to Texas and is centimeters from a big gay realization but is already trying to marry Buck anyway

Phew!!! We got through it! Hello down here! @colonoscopys @wildehacked @shitouttabuck @bigfootsmom @devirnis @chronicowboy @gayeddieagenda @homerforsure @ anyone who’s tagged me or I’ve tagged and who’s urls I’m forgetting, anyone who sees this and wants to brag, you dear reader, please share your stuff if you wanna!