#but there’s always that small percentage that tells me i’m wrong and i’m the biggest idiot to ever idiot

[prettybbychim]

okay wait am i dumb or is that the real madam herta??

the herta we play as is a puppet and iirc about 70% accurate of her younger self

has she been shown before? and this is just my first time seeing it? have i ever told you how much i love herta? i don’t believe i have? i am. Losing it

jesus christ first sunday and now this…… sunday wasn’t even the first it was xilonen man my poor little braincells don’t know who to fixate on anymore it’s overloading help

[whump-a-la-mode]

Villian-Sicle | Part 3

I didn’t expect to continue this beyond part 2, but I’ve come to love these characters. I hope you guys enjoy! Heed the warnings, this one contains a lot of medical stuff.

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, hypothermia, hospital setting, cardiac arrest, blood, dialysis, talk of death, talk of “pulling the plug”

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

The machine was too loud.

Talking over it made Leader feel that they were tearing apart their vocal chords. Then again, the stress of the situation wasn’t exactly aiding in that respect-- they could practically feel their tense muscles tightening around their windpipe.

“They’re going to be okay, then?” Their tone was rushed and pressing.

“I don’t want to guarantee anything.” The Head Doctor bit their lip. “Really, I can’t guarantee anything. By all accounts, the patient should already be dead. Human body temperatures shouldn’t be able to get that low...”

“Humans shouldn’t be able to fly, either.” Medic shook their head, gesturing at Leader, who tucked in their wings, not even realizing that they had unfolded. “But here we are.”

“There’s nothing particularly unusual about their physical anatomy, though?” Head Doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Enhanced people have different anatomy by default. Higher heart rate, for one thing.” Medic provided, glancing towards the heart monitor sitting next to the hospital bed. The spikes were shallow, and abnormally close together, but none the less steady.

“Yes.” Head Doctor dipped their head. “Well, then, that would explain how our patient is still breathing.”

“They should remain that way, then, right?” Leader fretted.

“I have high hopes. We’re doing everything we can. It’s up to them, now. If their body temperature can raise before it’s too late.”

The conversation ended on the same worried note as it had began, and the groups’ gazes seemed to unanimously drift downwards, as if they had simply forgot that they were standing over a body halfway between humanity and corpsehood.

Villain’s skin was horribly pale, translucent, even, as if it were on the verge of melting away. The restraints on their wrists and ankles-- Leader had insisted as to their presence-- seemed far too loose around their captive’s thin structure, but they simply couldn’t be tightened any further.

The only patch of Villain’s body that did not lack color was their chest, in which a catheter of at least an inch in diameter had been inserted. The skin around was red with irritation, resisting feebly against the roaring machine drinking blood from the line, only to return it at the same access point.

The whole spectacle was horribly grisly, with tubes filled with scarlet draped over Villain’s chest in a gruesome web. The machine itself, sat off to the side, seemed to whine and groan with every feeble heartbeat its victim managed to make.

Hemodialysis, the doctor had called the process. Manually warming the blood in an attempt to warm the body. Despite its vampiric appearance, somehow, the process was keeping Villain alive.

A chill ran through Leader’s body at the very thought. Villain was a stubborn asshole, one they’d been pursuing doggedly for months. Somehow, regardless of what trap they placed or what situation they were thrown into, Villain made it out.

Now...

The machine was plugged into the wall with a single cord. Just a wire, just some electrons passing through metal. Something that could so easily be severed. A single tug, a clumsily placed foot. The fight would be over. Would it be so wrong? Villain had done such wrong... and they wouldn’t feel a thing. They’d part in an unconscious pool of their own delusion.

Leader bit their tongue.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“You okay?”

Hero watched the small flame of force flicker between their fingertips, their eyes nearly crossed with focus. They had hardly realized that somehow had spoken to them, and it took several awkwardly long seconds for them to look up.

“Hm?”

“Are you okay? You looked distracted.” Counselor furrowed their brow.

“I think I’m... always distracted.”

“I know. Just... that was a lot, back there. And you looked stressed.”

“Just worried, I guess.”

“About Villain?”

“There’s not much else to be worried about.”

“I’m worrying about you, right now.”

“I think... Villain is the one that we need to worry about, right now.” Hero chewed their cheek. “You were in there, right?”

“For a minute, yeah.”

“Are they okay?”

“Alive. They were alive. But with Medic there-- well, I don’t think there’s a better authority on Enhanced biology on the seven continents. I think it’ll turn out okay.”

Hero chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s another thing I’m worried about.”

“What? Medic?”

“Yeah. Medic kind of. More Leader. Medic is... I mean, I love ‘em, and they’re the biggest hardass out there, but they’re a doctor more than anything else. Hippocratic oath and all that. But Leader...”

“You’re worried because Leader... isn’t a doctor?”

“No, no, it’s not that. Leader just seems so much more worried about the fight, and the mission, and the good of humanity, than, well, than anything that’s right in front of them. I’m just worried that...”

“That Leader’s going to make a bad choice?”

“Something like that.”

“I agree that they can be... a hardass. But they’re not a bad person. I don’t think they’d execute someone. Not like this. Not after everything.”

Hero’s gaze turned to Counselor. They hadn’t expected their friend to come to the base of their concerns with such speed.

Counselor gave a small smile in return.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Head Doctor left the room.

They had made their leave hurriedly, ensuring that they would be back in just a few minutes, to press the Code Blue button if anything happened. Leader had nodded along, hardly processing any of it.

They were focused on the person before them.

Over the last few minutes, by some miracle or curse, Villain’s heart rate had begun to stabilize. Though the beats came just as quickly, they were stronger than they had been. Not quite normal, but on their way.

Medic seemed fixed on the monitor, eyes narrowed as though they watched prey. The screen had more than just a heartrate reading. Alongside that, it showed a series of other graphs-- breathing rate, oxygen levels, among some that Leader was clueless as to the meaning of.

They glanced to the door. It was firmly closed. Certainly, the rest of the hospital would be too busy with the recent break-in to intrude.

“Medic?”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, but continued their fixation on the readings.

“Yes?”

“What would you say is the... the percentage we’re working with here.”

“The percentage?”

“Of survival.”

“Well... I suppose I can’t make an exact predication, but it’s climbing every minute. 80 percent? 85? They’re not completely out of the woods, yet, but their temperature is raising steadily. The dialysis is working.

“80 percent.” Leader hummed. “So... 20 percent chance that they don’t make it?”

“That is how math works, yes.”

“That’s not an insignificant percentage.”

“We’re doing everything we can. As I said, it’s rising, and quickly. If we can get their temperature back up into the 90s, I would say that continued survival is almost guaranteed.”

“Is that so?”

“What’s got you acting so weird, all of a sudden?” Medic finally turned from the screen, glancing to Leader.

Leader gulped.

“Do you remember when we were in Denver?”

“At the telecommunications hub? Yeah.”

“And in Vancouver?”

“Yes?”

“And at the bank, in Phoenix?”

“Leader, I assure you, my memory is fine.”

“No, no, I mean, Villain did all those things, right?”

“They had help.”

“But they led the charge?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“They’ve hurt a lot of people. Destroyed a lot of places... brought them to the ground. Leveled a city block, once.”

“Seriously, what is this about?”

Leader’s gaze glanced down to the Villain, pale, restrained, with a tube skewering their flesh, then back at Medic.

“No.”

“What?”

“No. No, no, no. I let you restrain them like some kind of beast, which, for your information, is completely against medical protocol. I’m not letting you kill Villain.”

“And why not?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Outside the hospital room, in a pair of plastic chairs, Hero and Counselor sat with far more relaxation between them. They watched passively as Head Doctor left the room, hurrying off to another room.

Hero took a fidget rope from a coat pocket and began twisting it between their hands.

“What do you think they’re going to do with Villain, then?” Counselor’s voice was considerably quieter, as if they were telling a secret. They stared off, down the hallway, instead of meeting Hero’s eyes.

“I just hope they let us have some input in this whole thing.”

“Me too. But... what would you prefer? If you had the choice?”

“I mean...” Hero sighed. “They haven’t been the best person, I think we can all agree on that. They’re dangerous. But I also think that... they’re scared. They’re scared, Counselor, really scared.

If it was up to me, I think we should help them. While in our custody, but, I think they need help. And maybe then, they can help us? I mean, they must know something about Supervillain. It’d be nice to have an informant.

Really, I just want to see them okay again. Even if it does mean that they go back to being an asshole.”

“That’d be nice.”

Hero nodded.

“I think Medic mentioned that, once Villain’s stable, we’re gonna move them back to base. Where we have the special medical equipment, the Enhanced care stuff.”

“Yeah. I think Leader is definently going to want to keep them in custody.”

“If they try to hurt them, though... I’m not gonna let that happen. If we have to keep them prisoner, we can at least be humane about it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“I just hope Leader agrees.”

“Me too.”

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“It’d be a waste.”

The answer was too analytical. Leader had expected to be yelled at, to get an earful about morality and ethics and other crap. Not something so simple, so factual.

“What do you mean?” Leader’s tone wasn’t accusing, at least they didn’t intend for it to be. It was far more dumbfounded in nature.

“Everything in this world runs on technology. Those lights, that door, this machine, everything. Everyone has a phone. Every building has a network, of both electricity and information. Villain can patch into all of that. You said it yourself, they leveled a whole city block. What else can they do?”

“What are you... what are you implying?”

“We keep them, and we use them.”

A garbled voice resounded throughout the room. Leader whirled around, half expecting Supervillain to be right behind them, before turning back.

“Was that y-” They began to ask, but didn’t quite get the chance.

“Code Blue! Code Blue!” Medic snapped. “Don’t be useless, press the damn button!”

It took Leader’s confused mind a moment to note the emergency that Medic was responding to-- that of a horrible, electric screech. The heart monitor was no longer showing a steady pulse.

At the sight, Leader’s own heart rate sped up. They nearly tripped over their own feet as they rushed to the blue button on the wall, jabbing it with their finger multiple times in a frenzied panic. Once they were satisfied that they spiraling terror had been registered properly, they returned to Medic’s side.

The doctor had their hands positioned on Villain’s chest, one over the other, slamming downwards repeatedly. In between, Leader could see a sharp rise in the chest-- they were still breathing. But for how much longer?

Dammit, dammit, don’t think like that, it’s someone’s life!

A resounding crash burst through the room as the door was slammed open. They rushed to the bedside, seemingly ready to continue CPR, before Medic raised an arm, preventing them.

“No, no, they’re okay.” Medic panted breathlessly. Leader raised their eyes to the heart monitor-- sure enough, a slow, steady rhythm was returning.

They’d made it.

“Mmm..”

Leader panted for breath, trying in vain to calm their racing heartrate.

“Mmm... whaaa...”

Leader’s shaking gaze shifted to the source of the noises--only to find their eyes locked with the wide ones of Villain.

[random-imagines-blog]

Control the Noise {General One Shot}

Requested by: @lunchawx Wordcount: 1807 Summary: You’re a songwriter with quite a bit of acclaim but you tend to hide behind a pseudonym to keep your private life private. But it doesn’t stay that way for long.

In your rather spacious apartment, you played the piano softly. The Grammies were being premiered tonight on the television, but you weren’t paying attention just yet. The cameras were all focused on the glamorous people that were walking down the red carpet. Beautiful gowns in every color, suits with different color ties. A few of the men chose to wear something that wasn’t just a simple black suit, and people applauded them for it. But you didn’t care for the politics of the music industry. You were in it for the music itself. The lyrics. The chance to have someone with an amazing talent showcase the words that you wrote.

You were feeling inspired tonight. Your fingers glided across the piano, coming up with a melody - and the words were just popping into your head. You stopped playing and reached for the pen that you kept cocked behind your ear, and the notebook that you kept in place of the sheet music. You wrote down a couple of words, then continued on. It was that constant back and forth which took up a large part of your day today.

“Welcome to the Grammies!” The host of the night said, their voice coming from the television. You pressed your last couple of notes, then looked over your shoulder to where bright and smiling faces were looking down upon you. The host was someone that you had written for, actually. One of his major hits only two years before, but you have both since moved on. You had written three of the songs that were up tonight, which was the only reason that you were watching this. You’d be receiving a phone call at the end either way, but you might as well see how people responded to your music.

You were not the type for the famous life. The musicians that you worked with, save for a special few who had become friends, were given an alias. You wanted your personal life separate from your professional. Your neighbors just thought that you played music for fun, and knew nothing about your career. All in all - life was actually perfect this way. You got the money without the cameras.

It all seemed to go off without a hitch. You had a glass of wine, and some food delivered, so you could enjoy it all from the comfort of your couch. Your manager was texting you every once in a while, asking if you were watching, your opinion on some of the other songs, and some gossip on the big music couples that were there that night. You joined in - it was a little fun to gossip.

The night was going swimmingly. One of your songs had just won an award. You were up on your feet and dancing around, excited at the bit of a pay bonus that you were going to be getting from this. And the fact that the song would sell more now, and you’d be getting a little bit more of a percentage. It was nice to have your work recognized, even if only a small handful of people knew that it was someone else who had written the song.

The beautiful singer went up to the stage, among all of the applause. There, she was given the award. You were down on your knees in front of the television, all sparkling eyes and happiness. You had both put a lot of work into this, and she definitely deserved the fame and attention. The song had been written with her voice in mind. With her background in mind. You were especially proud of it.

“It’s an honor to be nominated alongside so many incredible female artists this year,” The beautiful young woman said into the microphone. “I guess this year we really stepped up. I have my mom to thank, my best friends obviously, y/f/n y/l/n for writing this amazing song, and the rest of the team....”

You fell back onto the carpet beneath your feet. Your name was the last thing that you had expected to come out of her lips. It was the last thing that you had wanted too. Your real name had been told to her in confidence. And here she was just spreading it out there.

You could just barely hear your phone ringing from behind you. You reached for it, without removing your eyes from the television. Nobody on the screen seemed to realize that anything had been wrong. People were still cheering, and the singer walked off of the stage after her speech. You raised the phone to your ear to hear your manager in an uproar.

“No - you tell them that this is unacceptable!” He was shouting at someone, that wasn’t you. “Y/N? Hey, just saw what happened - hold on - No, you tell her that we’re never working with her again! They broke the confidentiality agreement! Y/N, you still there?”

“Unfortunately,” You said, holding the phone a foot away from your ear. You could hear him sigh. He sounded as stressed as you felt. “What was she thinking?”

“She wasn’t. That’s the damn problem. All of that fame goes to their heads and they forget about the business side of things! Goddamnit - why do these award shows have to be live when so much can go wrong.”

“So what do we do?” You asked, turning off the television. You didn’t care about who won what anymore - you were just exposed for the world to know. No doubt your neighbors were watching. It was the biggest thing that was happening tonight, and plenty of people were going to see it. Oh God, even your friends who didn’t fully know what you did were going to find out.

“I’m going to call in a publicist, see what we can do. Don’t worry, it won’t be on your dime. The diva can take care of it,” He grumbled. “Just hold on tight and we’ll figure this all out.”

-

It had been three days. You didn’t leave your apartment. There had been a lot of phone calls but you only answered the ones from your manager. It was too late - the world knew that you were behind some of the biggest hits of the last couple of years. Your real identity had been discovered. It was unravelling. This was why you never went public, because of this sense of having no control.

You had to leave the house eventually though. You had to go out and get groceries. You psyched yourself up, picking a rather dull outfit from your closet so you wouldn’t get much attention. Even Lady Gaga sometimes gets her own groceries. Brad Pitt has been seen doing it. Besides, it’s not as if a lot of people would connect your name with your face, unless you had to show some identification. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

You kept a hat low over your eyes nonetheless as you went through the aisles of the supermarket, picking out the things that you would need for the next two weeks. It seemed to be going well, no one was looking twice at you. It was when you went up to the check-out that things started to go awry.

Right on the cover of the tabloid magazines which were always surrounding the check-out counters, was your face. And your name. ‘Star Songwriter’s Identity Revealed!’ The picture wasn’t the most flattering one either. It was taken off of your personal instagram account, which as private. You maybe had fifty followers on there, all people that you know, but somehow, one of those pictures had gotten leaked.

While trying not to bring any attention to yourself, you picked up the magazine like you were inspecting it. Then you set it down, facing the wrong way. Instead of your own face, what you saw now was an advertisement on the back. Then you did so with the rest of them, making sure that each one was turned around. Some poor salesperson would have to fix them but it was horrifying nonetheless.

You got out of there as soon as possible, moving from using the check-out counter with a smiling person behind it, to the self-check out. At least there you didn’t have to talk to people. And you could get out with your head bowed and no one looked at you twice.

Once you were back in the safety of your car, just one of the many in the parking lot, you called your manager again. He had been getting a lot of calls from you lately. Most of the time he wasn’t picking up because he was too busy trying to fix this problem. You caught him at a spare moment though.

“There’s no use,” You sighed into it. “My picture is on the cover of the magazines. Like I’m Madonna or something.”

“Oh honey, Madonna is never on the covers anymore. You’re like Taylor Swift now,” Your manager said. This did make you smile a small bit but it was still unfortunate. “But I hate to say that you’re right. You’re trending all over right now. You made it big - so now it’s up to you what you do with it.”

“I guess I should get a publicist,” You groaned. You liked it when it was just you and your manager, who was the one who worked with the record labels to get your song out there. It wasn’t the size of your entourage, it was the quality. And after so long of it being just the two of you, you were reluctant to bring another person onto the team.

“Leave that to me,” Your manager grunted. “At least then I’m still good for something.”

“None of this is your fault. I shouldn’t get close to the artists, I know, it’s mine,” You let out a long sigh. “I guess I have some thinking to do.”

“Maybe you’ll find some inspiration and come out with some new songs, eh?” Your manager said, flipping the conversation to work, as they always managed to do. “Your last few were absolute hits. And now that your name is going out there, people are going to be looking for it. Lots of offers already. Just think about it.”

“Okay. Thanks - for everything.” You hung up your phone and checked yourself out in the rearview mirror, slapping your cheeks to get rid of that blood-drained look that seeing yourself in the magazines had given you. At least your manager was right about one thing.

Inspiration really was running through you now.

[onceuponaloonatic]

Sana had always been described as a good girl. As a child, she was the type who always got a gold star and turned in all her homework and made friends with everyone in her class. All her teachers loved her and would go on and on to Sana’s parents about how amazing their daughter was and how good a job they were doing. At home, Sana was just as well behaved. Her parents rarely had to scold her, and when they did it was never for anything too bad. Just little things like forgetting to take the trash out or not properly washing dishes. She recalls everyone telling her parents they had gotten lucky and that children like Sana were rare before turning to Sana and ruffling her hair telling her she was such a good girl. She always enjoyed it, being told she was a good girl.

This didn’t change when she got older. Since she entered the modeling industry so young, most of her teenage years were spent under a microscope. She couldn’t do anything that could be mildly problematic or she would be put on every news station in Korea. She wasn’t too popular at the time, it’s just the media loved stories of young models who ruined their entire careers over parties and drugs. Sana didn’t really think parties were worth the damage it could do on her career, so she stayed away all through high school. She worked hard to have good grades while building her name in the competitive world of modeling the best she could. By the time she was seventeen, her career had taken off. 

Her parents had always been supportive of her modeling career. They were supportive parents in general, but they had always done their best to support Sana without overstepping throughout her young career. If they had wanted Sana to go into anything other than modeling, they never expressed it, which Sana was thankful for. She knew many of her classmates' parents wanted or expected them to go into more traditional and safe fields like science or math, but her parents never did. Just like in her childhood, Sana had always been praised for being such a good girl in high school. She didn’t do parties, or secret boyfriends or girlfriends, or anything that could ruin her future. 

By the time she met Mina and Tzuyu, she had only ever dated a few people. Her and Momo had attempted to date for a while, but it had ended poorly and they had both quickly agreed friendship was a much better thing for them. It didn’t hurt their friendship at all, in fact it strengthened it. They were so utterly comfortable with each other after the experience, that living together was the easiest decision in the world. After Momo came a few alphas she had met through work, but none of them had really worked out for one reason or another. Mina and Tzuyu were different. Sana loved Mina and Tzuyu, so much she could see herself spending her future with them.

When the media got word of them dating, it really wasn't that big of a deal. Omegas with two alphas wasn’t that uncommon, and Sana was thankful it didn't have to be a big prediction like dating was for others in the industry. Sana introduced Mina and Tzuyu to her parents not long afterwards, and they were both accepting of the two. They actually liked them both. They had told Sana in private that she had found two really good alphas and that they hoped they worked out. 

It wasn't much later that she found out about Sai. Sana’s parents had always been accepting of her partners, but they had assumed she was doing the good omega thing of saving her first time until marriage. They weren't vocal about it that much, but there were subtle comments made throughout Sana's childhood about how they believed in that people should save their first times and how they expected that of Sana too. Of course she didn't, but it took until Mina and Tzuyu for her to give up on it. She had felt ready with the two of them, and they felt ready with her. And they were safe, at least Sana thought they were safe. She took birth control, and the first few times they had sex Mina and Tzuyu had worn condoms. After a bit they give up on this, once Sana’s had been on birth control for a bit longer and they had thought everything was safe. Everything wasn't, but they had no way of knowing they would fall into the small percentage of people who got pregnant on birth control. Some people struggled to have kids regularly, but they had managed to do it with birth control. It was honestly a bit impressive in Sana’s opinion. 

At first, Sana didn't think she was pregnant. That didn't happen to good girls like her. She was just a little sick, and more than a little stressed. She had a big fashion show coming up, of course she had a lot going on. But when she was still sick afterwards, she started to freak out. She frantically called Momo and the two of them went out to buy some tests and do them at Momo and Jihyo’s apartment. Sana and Momo had lived together for a while, but had both moved in with their respective partners at some point. Momo had been surprised when she told her, but was more than supportive, even going as far as to buying the tests for Sana so she didn’t have to worry about the stress of being spotted. Jihyo is there too, holding Sana’s hand and telling her things will be fine while they wait for Momo to get back. Once Momo was back, it wasn’t long before she was in her best friend’s small apartment bathroom. “Momo I can do this part by myself.” Sana rolled her eyes when Momo followed her into the bathroom. She had been crying earlier, but she had calmed a bit with time. “It would be awkward to have you here while I pee on a stick.” “Nope. Not leaving you alone.” Momo nodded. “We’ve seen each other naked plenty of time. I’ll face the wall, now pee on your stick so we can get some dinner. I’m starving.”

“Okay fine.” Sana sighed in defeat. Even if it sounded weird, she was happy Momo was here. She was so scared, so stressed that the test was going to be positive. She had no idea what she was going to do if it was. It wasn’t very long ago she had even conceived the idea that she might be pregnant. She hadn’t had time to think of what she would do about it if she was. “You doing okay?” Momo asked after a bit. “Yes. And this is already awkward, please don’t talk it makes this so much worse.” Sana answered quickly. Once she was done she immediately washed her hands and left the stick on the bathroom counter.

“Can I look now?” Momo asked.

“Yeah.” Momo immediately turned around, wrapping her arms around Sana’s waist. 

“How long do you have to wait?” Momo asked, resting her chin on Sana’s shoulder. The two had always been affectionate, and even if both had their own mates they were still affectionate with each other occasionally. “A few minutes.” Tears came to Sana’s eyes again as she looked at them. Momo immediately noticed.

“Let’s go get something to eat while you wait.” Sana nodded, waddling out of the bathroom with Momo on top of her. Jihyo was waiting right outside of the door, a chocolate bar in one hand and the most concerned look on her face. Sana almost laughed, Jihyo could act like such a concerned big sister sometimes, even if Sana was the older one. “We need to wait a bit.” Momo told her girlfriend. “We were thinking of eating some dinner while we waited.” “Okay.” Jihyo nodded. “Do you want me to make some pasta?” The question was completely directed towards Sana. “Yeah.” Sana let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. “Pasta sounds great.”

Throughout the dinner, Sana is distracted. She knows the tests are ready, but also wants to finish eating before she goes to look. Momo and Jihyo do their best to distract her, but it doesn’t work well. All Sana can think about is how everyone will react if they are positive. How Mina and Tzuyu will react. How her manager would react. God how her parents would react. She honestly didn’t know how she was supposed to face her parents. 

“Do you mind if we both come with you to look?” Jihyo offered once they had finished eating. Sana had eaten too much, she was too nervous. “No.” Sana nodded, her hand and Momo’s tangling together. “I would love for you to be there.” 

When Sana sees the result she starts crying. Honestly, she would have cried no matter what the result was. Momo wraps her up in the biggest hug on the bathroom floor while Jihyo calls Mina and Tzuyu to say Sana would probably spend the night at their apartment. 

Jihyo and Momo are nothing but supportive. After crying on the bathroom floor, Sana falls asleep. She’s too exhausted from all the drama and stress and crying that she falls asleep on her friends’ bathroom floor. Neither say anything, they both just carefully carry her to their bedroom and tuck her into their bed. Momo gets in with her and hugs Sana as she sleeps. Jihyo sleeps on the couch. The next morning Momo and Jihyo tell her she needs to tell Mina and Tzuyu. Of course, Sana would have to tell them eventually, but she was scared. They both reassure her that Mina and Tzuyu will understand, and that the decision Sana was going to have to make soon deserved their input. They reassured her it was her decision in the end, but that talking to Mina and Tzuyu would be for the best to ensure she makes a decision without any regrets. Sana decides to tell them that night. 

She nearly chickens out multiple times. She had brought the positive tests with her (after thoroughly cleaning them) and was going to show them to her partners, but the two small sticks were like lead weights in her pockets. Mina and Tzuyu almost immediately notice something is wrong, but Sana is able to provide them with a good answer as to what was wrong. Eventually, when they are watching TV and she starts crying at an ad for a preschool, she knows she has to tell them. 

“Sana? What’s wrong?” Mina was the first to notice Sana was crying. She immediately panicked, looking Sana in the eyes and bringing one hand up to wipe Sana’s tears. Sana nodded, trying to not make a scene but it caused even more tears.

“Sana?” Tzuyu looked over at Sana, her eyes wide when she realized she was crying. “Baby?” “What’s wrong?” Mina asked again, more quiet this time. “I’m…” It was hard for Sana to say it. She knew she had to, but it was difficult to get out. It would be her first time saying it aloud. “I’m pregnant.” It was in the tiniest voice possible muttered against Mina’s shoulder between sobs. “What?” Tzuyu asked, having not heard. Mina had, but didn’t know what to say. “I’m pregnant.” Sana repeated, a bit louder that time. The room became completely silent save for Sana’s sobbing as her girlfriends processed the bomb she just dropped on them. “But- how did this happen you take birth control-”

“There is a five percent chance.” Mina cut Tzuyu off. “Birth control is only 95 percent effective.” 

“Oh.” Tuzyu shut up after that. Sana stopped crying later, but by this point neither had said anything. Both were still processing. Both Mina and Tzuyu were the type to think things through a lot, even before they spoke. Both were on the quieter end, and overtime Sana had gotten used to long stretches of silence while the two thought of what to say. “So… What now?” Mina waited until Sana was done crying to ask. “Do we-do you want to keep it?” “I don’t know.” Sana answered. “What do you guys want?” “It doesn’t matter what we want, it’s your body.” Tzuyu nodded. “Yes it matters what you want.” Sana took Tzuyu’s hand. “It’s your baby too.” “I- yeah.” Tzuyu sighed. “We just want to know what you want Sana?” Mina kissed Sana’s cheek. “I… I don’t know yet.” No one was convinced by Sana’s answer, but they ended up going to bed with no solid answer or plan. The next morning, Mina and Tzuyu had an idea of what they wanted. Both had slept on the idea, and had arrived at the same conclusion they had reached the night before. They would support Sana, no matter what. If Sana wanted to keep it, they would do their best to be the best mamas they could be; and if Sana didn’t want to keep it they would be the most supportive partners they could. 

That night, after a long conversation, Sana finally admits she wants to keep the baby. Mina schedules the first ultrasound. She does it as discreetly as possible, trying to keep anyone but them from finding out if they didn’t have to. They go to the appointment on a sunny cold February afternoon. After confirming Sana was pregnant through blood work, they move onto the first ultrasound. While waiting for it to start, Sana can’t stop her leg from bouncing. “I’m going to need you to keep a little stiller mom.” The ultrasound tech laughed. “It’s a little easier to see when you are still.” Sana sat in shock a little bit at the title the tech had given her. Mom. She was going to be someone’s mom. That was a weird thought. She had only just turned twenty one in December, and she was already going to be a mom. The sound catches Sana off guard. The heartbeat isn’t too loud, but it’s fast. “And there’s the baby.” Sana tunes out everything after that. She’s stuck staring at her baby. Her, Mina, and Tzuyu’s baby. She can’t believe that that’s her baby. And that all of this is really happening.

Apparently Mina and Tzuyu had paid very close attention to the doctor. Both came out with a long list of things to buy and things they should start doing. Sana couldn’t but giggle, because at that moment she realized her partners were both going to make amazing parents soon.

They know they have to tell their parents eventually. Sana was terrified of telling them. Even more so than her manager. Her manager had responded okay. She wasn’t thrilled with Sana but she said she would talk to the company about a year long hiatus and they would figure out a course of action in terms of telling the media. Somehow to Sana, even telling the media seemed less scary than telling her parents.

Mina and Tzuyu are there when she tells them. Her parents hang up immediately after she tells them. They call back later, apologizing and saying they were just processing everything. Surprisgnly, they were supportive. Of course, it is the start of them constantly asking if they were planning on getting married soon, but Sana was okay with that. It was so much better than she was expecting. (By the end of her pregnancy, Sana’s parents even seem ectied about the baby, and were already planning a trip to come see her after her due date so they could meet their baby grandchild). Mina and Tzuyu parents don’t take it quite as well. Mina’s parents cut off contact with her for months, and Tzuyu’s father pretends it isn’t happening. Mina’s parents eventually talk to her again, but it takes a lot of convincing for them. (They didn’t even start to accept Sai until she was a toddler.) Tzuyu’s mother comes around quicker than her father, she even sneaks some trips to Korea just to see her grandchild. (Her father eventually comes around too, but it takes years.)

Over time, Sana still can’t believe she’s going to be a mother. Even as her stomach grows, even as the baby starts kicking, even when they find out they are having a girl, she can’t believe this is really happening. The idea of being a mother had seemed so strange to her. Soon it wouldn't just be her, Mina, and Tzuyu. 

PIcking a baby name did help make it a bit more real, but it still wasn’t completely real in Sana’s mind.

“How’s the baby?” MIna starts the conversation the night they pick the baby’s name. “Okay. She’s been kicking a lot lately.” Sana was laying in bed on her phone, scrolling through her instagram. She had followed so many more mom accounts recently, and her feed had a lot more baby or parenting content than it previously did.

“Yeah?” MIna asked, hopping on the bed. Tzuyu was lying next to Sana, her face just above Sana’s chest on her collarbone. “Scoot.” She pat Tzuyu’s arm to get her to move. “No.” Tzuyu giggled, tightening the one arm she had wrapped around Sana. “Tzuyu scoot.” Tzuyu giggled as Mina tried to move her. “You two are so cute.” Sana giggled at the two of them. “I have another side you know Mina.” “Are you sure though?” Sana nodded, putting her phone down and motioning for Mina to join them. “I’m done looking at my phone. I went through most of my feed already.” Sana answered, kissing Mina’s hair as she laid down. Tzuyu went back to half dozing off on Sana’s chest as Sana played with her hair, Mina putting one hand on Sana’s stomach and stroking. “It won’t be that long now.” Mina remarked when she felt a tiny kick. “We still have a few months.” Sana nodded. ”She’s not even close to being done growing and finding new ways to make me feel so utterly uncomfortable.” “How do you feel right now?” Every time Sana brought up discomfort, Mina would ask that. “Okay. My boobs kind of hurt, but nothing new.” Sana giggled at Mina’s concern. 

“So no sex?” Tzuyu jokes, yawning as Sana continued tangling her fingers in Tzuyu’s hair. “Absolutely not.” Sana rolled her eyes. “I think if one of you tried to put even the smallest amount of pressure on my boobs I might punch you.” “Damn, I wanted to touch you.” Tzuyu faked being upset. All of them knew she was joking, and found it a bit funny.

“Not anytime soon.” Sana muttered. “Maybe when my boobs don’t feel like they are about to fall off and the baby is being behaved.” “Deal.” Tzuyu giggled. “You know we can’t keep calling her the baby forever. She’s going to need a name eventually.” “That’s true.” Mina muttered, pressing her body flush with Sana’s. “We haven’t even talked about her last name yet.” “Oh yeah. What should we use for her last name?” Tzuyu wondered out loud. “Well, I think she should have both of yours.” Sana told them, using her now free hand to also stroke Mina’s hair. 

“Really?” Tzuyu asked in surprise. “Yeah. Hyphenated like Chou-Myoui or Myoui-Chou or something.” Sana nodded.

“What about your last name?” Mina asked. 

“Adding Minatozaki would be too much. It would be too long. Plus, it’s probably going to be easier for her in school if her last name is you guys’, people here always struggle with mine. Also both your last names are a lot easier to write in Hangul. And Mina’s yours is even easier in kanji.” Sana reasoned. “I want her to have both of your last names. Myoui-Chou whatever her name is.” “Okay...  If that’s what you want.” Mina muttered. “I have a website with like a million baby names if we want to look.” “Sure, sounds like a good idea.” Sana smiled as Mina grabbed her phone, unlocking it and opening the website. “It has filters. What filters should I put? Chinese? Korean? Japanese?” “Japanese.” Tzuyu was the one who answered it. Both Mina and Sana were surprised by her answer. “My mom is going to give her a Chinese name no matter what we pick, I think she should have a Japanese name.”

“But-but your culture-”

“No. She has Chou in her last name. That is more than enough for me. I want her to have a Japanese name. I’ve even been researching them a bit. Like what do you guys think of Megumi?” “That’s my grandmother's name.” Mina laughed. “It sounds too old lady to me to use it.” “Yeah I don’t want my daughter to have an old lady name.” Sana nodded. “Okay if we are talking about Japanese names, I supposed I have always liked names like Hitomi and Misaki.” “Names with Mi you mean?” Mina giggled. “Yeah, Just like your name. I love your name. It’s so pretty.” Sana left another kiss on Mina’s forehead. “Yours is too.” Sana turned to Tzuyu. “I like pretty names.” “While then why don’t I just read a list of names and you tell me one that sounds pretty and we’ll make a note and then choose one at the end.” “It’s not just me naming her.” Sana whined. “Fine, whenever one of us likes one.” They end up with a pretty short list. Mina and Tzuyu both already know which one they want off the list, they had figured it out the minute they heard it spoken aloud. Sana was a little hesitant though. “Isn’t it too similar to my name?” Sana asked.

“No. It’s close, but still distant. She doesn’t have your last name, I think it would be cute if you both have Sa.” Mina mentioned. 

“If you don’t like it we can pick something else.” Tzuyu nodded. “We just think it would be really nice to name her that.” “Fine. If you guys don’t think it’s too similar to my name. I do think it is pretty.” Sana smiled. “Myoui-Chou Sai.” Mina muttered as she stroked Sana’s stomach. “It’s the perfect name for our perfect girl.” Sana couldn’t help but agree. 

When Sai was born, Sana finally thought of herself as a mom for the first time. It took seeing her tiny baby girl bundled up in pink blankets for her to finally sink in that she was really a mom. This was her baby. The one she had grown inside of her for eight and a half months and had gone through hours of labor for. 

She was already so in love with Sai before she was born, she couldn’t even imagine how much more in love with her she was after she was born. Seeing her tiny covered feet and adorable little eyes and fingers- it was almost too much for Sana. She almost felt like she was going to burst with love for her daughter. When she held her for the first time, she honestly thought she was going to die from just how in love with Sai and her mamas she was. It almost hurt. She loved them so much. “Are you okay baby?” Mina asked. It was a few days after Sana had given birth, and she was about to be released from the hospital. Tzuyu was with Sai, getting her ready to leave the hospital for the first time.

“Yeah.” Sana hadn’t stopped smiling since she had first laid eyes on Sai. “Yeah, I’m going to be fine. I just, love you guys so much.” Tears came to Sana’s eyes as she said that. “Are you about to cry?” “I had a baby a few days ago don’t judge me my hormones are insane. And not in a fun way.” Sana joked, wiping her tears with one hand. “Hey it’s okay. We love you too.” Mina kissed Sana’s forehead. “And that’s very funny, but the doctor said eight weeks.” “Six weeks.” Sana corrected. 

“Right.” Mina giggled. “But I’m guessing six will be early.” “We’ll see.” Sana giggled, pulling Mina into a kiss. “I love you.” “I love you too.”

At least, until she became a mom at twenty one. But even if people didn’t think that of her anymore, she didn’t care. She cared so much more about Sai and Mina and Tzuyu.

[languagelearningcorner]

Six Months

It's been a while since I've updated! It has been a little over six months since I challenged myself to focus on Persian. Although I haven't posted much on here, I have been trying to stay consistent with it behind the scenes. The intensity of exposure/studying of the last three months definitely decreased as compared to the first three. However, I made sure to get daily practice in even if all I could spare was ten minutes.

Anyways, below are my summary of how my skills have progressed over the last six months~

Speaking

In the beginning, this is the skill that I saw the most rapid progress in. Easy enough, as I was basically starting from zero. Even in college, I was never really challenged to speak. The only speaking I had to do was either in a small group or as part of the final exam (for which I memorized all my answers). The biggest reason for the giant leap though was no doubt the tutor. Getting a tutor was the scariest thing at the beginning but definitely had the biggest payoff overall. Not only did it improve my speaking, but all other skills as well. For the past three months, I have continued to make gains in my speaking ability, although they have slowed down. Despite all the progress, I would say this is my weakest skill.

Writing

Writing is definitely a skill that has plateaued. As my speaking skills trend stagnant, so do my writing skills. I am good at spelling, have good handwriting, and can copy effortlessly. The issue is expanding my thoughts and really fleshing out my writing. Although in writing I can definitely express myself much more and do so in a more grammatically correct way than when I'm speaking, I don't think I can really improve it until I gain some skills in my expressive language. I also have been practicing this skill the least. I'll write a diary entry once in a while, a few texts to friends occasionally, and complete a writing assignment from my tutor once in a blue moon, so I'm not really that surprised that this skill has seen minimal progress.

Reading

I'm not really sure when my fluency started picking up but I've felt a definite increase in fluency with my reading. By that, I mean two things. First, my decoding is much faster. I can see a word and instantly produce it either in my mind or out loud. If it's a word I'm not familiar with, then of course, it's harder - I just guess the short vowels (and am wrong 99% of the time). The other thing is my reading comprehension. So, maybe I can't decode all the words in the sentence or for some remember what they mean, but there's a greater chance of me understanding the gist of the entire sentence than before. I'm able to understand a greater percentage of what I read. It takes me less time to get through a paragraph than before. I don't really practice that much more than I used to; about 20-30 minutes a week. I think that my increase in reading comprehension is due to the fact that my receptive language has skyrocketed in the last three months.

Listening

At the beginning of the six months I couldn't understand anything. Just a few greetings, some commonly used verbs, nouns, and prepositions. I really started to panic when I was three months in and still not quite able to understand much. Listening to TV and music felt a little uncomfortable because I kept thinking I should understand more!! I think it started to solidify when I was watching Asheghaneh. I was consistently watching 40 minutes a day and focused for the most part. I was understanding more and more per episode. I finished all of season 1 lol but I'm still listening to Manoto and other content creators on YouTube. Now, my tutor will sometimes tell me anecdotes or make comments (slowly and related to the subject matter) and I will understand probably 90% of what she says.

Overall: I think consistency has been the biggest factor in increasing my fluency level and overall confidence in all skills. The intensity of my studies has taken a downturn, but being consistent and practicing to some degree daily has helped keep my skills afloat. The other huge factor that has really helped has been tutoring. It has forced me to express myself verbally enabled me to make mistakes and learn from them, as cliche as that sounds. With tutoring, I've also learned a lot about colloquial spoken Persian and, very importantly, I've learned so much about traditional and contemporary culture as well. It's been fun to compare and contrast American/French culture with Persian and the European country my tutor lives in. I was originally supposed to stop after 6 months and rotate to Korean , however, I'm nowhere near the level I wanted to be before switching so I think I'm going to continue for the next six months and re-evaluate then.

My whole life, I 've been told I'm "gifted" for languages. I'm not- I'm just curious and fascinated by them. Because of this it initially killed me that Korean and Persian didn't seem to be sticking whenever I tried to learn them. Through this journey, supplanted by updates to track my progress, I realize just how colossal of a task learning a language is (for me, at least). It's a lot more dedication and time than I had ever put in for a language before. I knew it took time but I was naive to the amount of diligence and consistency it required. I'd always assumed that since I was "gifted" all I had to do was sit in class, do my homework, and get good grades without any upkeep after. To a degree, I did learn that way but I lost all my skills just as quickly as I gained them because I never maintained them. I also never allowed myself to make mistakes; I memorized and "solved" grammar problems, erroneously assuming that my grade accurately reflected my level of acquisition.

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Watch

a/n: I 1000000% know that unless you’ve read my fic The Dragon Kings Treasure, this is going to be TOTALLY out of context and you will likely have literally no idea about what’s going on or their history. I’ll be posting this little snippet in my AO3 post at the end of the story if you feel like you’d rather read the full thing first before you read this. There’s some spoilers in this, so if you’ve been planning on reading TDKT and haven’t yet, I’d suggest doing that first for context

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC) (Fantasy AU)

Story Rating: Explicit

Genre: Fluff / Romance / Domestic / Fantasy AU

Story Warnings: Sex (vaginal), hand job, inhuman extremities (yes, dick) and mutations (dragon), size difference, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling, breeding (sorta), stomach bulge, Bakugou’s insecure, Koge’s horny

Words: 5,110

Written for the @bnhabookclub​​ ‘s members bingo event!

Crossed off: Mirror Sex

Bingo Masterlist

Art in banner by me

“I am actually going to kill you, Koge.” 

“Just do it gently, okay?” 

Bakugou grumbled at the completely unbothered response from his lover, glowering at her through a mirror. Laying on his stomach, sprawled out on their bed, the young Lord found himself beyond agitated with himself and with his wife, but not for any regular old reason. No, the problem was something that no one could have ever predicted, and it was something that couldn’t be stopped, either. Reversing the process was also out of the question, so he was condemned to adjust himself to the changes of his body, both internal and external. But, compliance didn’t correlate to happiness in this situation, especially not when paired with the pain and frustrations that came with the changes. 

It didn’t help that his wife was more that ecstatic about his newfound dragon extremities. The thick, dark red tail that protruded from the base of his hips and horns perched atop his head were the current bane of his existence, as the past few months of them growing into place were like putting him through daily torture. The changes to his hands and the horns, he had gotten used to long ago, but the currently swaying scaled appendage that protruded from his hips had been the most difficult to accept. It was large and cumbersome, always knocking things over, hitting people, or even causing him to trip over his own feet. Even now, as it knocked annoyingly against his own legs, he wished that he could just cut the damn thing off. Why did it even have to grow in the first place? 

Well, he knew why. 

His wife. The absolute love of his life and mother to his son, the woman he had chosen to be always by his side and Queen of his land. She was the reason this had happened to him, or, at least, a large percentage of it. The rest was his own bloodline, his family and heritage, but this wasn’t exactly something he had expected to happen. His wife, being a dragon halfling, had always sported her dragon features when in her human form, and had the presence, scents, and mannerisms of one at all times. Sure, she could fit in with humans, outside of her inability to register their words if they weren’t dragonborn of some kind, but in the end, she was a dragon. That fact is what prompted these changes in him that he couldn’t control. 

It all went back to his bloodline. His family had always had dragon blood, but the last that had dragon features, that he could remember, was his great grandfather. Since then, each royal child born didn’t have physical dragon features, nor could they change into a dragon. All they had was the magic. Until now. Just being with his wife had prompted a change within him, starting out small at first with the ability to purr and his senses more enhanced than they had already been. Then came the changes to his hands, red scales coating the top and down along his wrist and half of his forearm, with thicker skin along his palms and long claws. This change was quick, only a few days of inability to use his hands or take care of the horrible itch that came with it on his own, though Koge was more than willing to help him with that. In truth, Bakugou didn’t think he could have gotten through any of the changes without her help. She knew how to soothe the pain of his horns growing in and massaged his back and tail as it grew over many weeks. 

Now, there was no pain. All that was left was to adjust. New clothes, new sleeping positions, new feelings beneath the now sensitive skin of his fingers and palms. The new smells, sounds, and urges, they all required a huge adjustment, but the tail. The tail was the worst of them all. 

“Why a fucking tail?” Bakugou whined into the sheets, turning his face into the soft plush fabric to keep his glare off the swaying appendage. “The horns are fine. The hands suck. But a fucking tail?! Koge, I hate it.”

“It did grow in quite big in the end, but it’s really pretty-” 

“-Don’t call it pretty-!”

“-And handsome. Rugged. Who knew you had such strong dragon blood that it would come out looking like this!” Scooting her petite body closer, Koge’s fingers traced lightly down his spine, purring sweetly when she breached the hump of his tail. “I love it. I can’t wait until you get more control over it so I can cuddle in it.” 

“Tch, and what the fuck is wrong with my arms, huh?!” 

“You can’t tell, Katsuki, but your tail is way warmer than your arms.” 

In agitation of her argument, his tail swished about roughly, making Koge giggle softly as pillows were knocked from the bed. To avoid getting hit, Koge flopped down to lay up against his side, wiggling and nudging herself beneath his arm until he was forced onto his side, hugging her to him tightly in an attempted punishment. Nuzzling his face into her hair, he felt instantly calmed by the sweet sounds of her purr, which radiated through his mind like a million bees, making his heart and stomach flutter. Then, within no time, his own deep rumbling began, his purr completely swallowing hers in intensity. 

“Ooh see, you can’t be that mad if you start purring so easily.” Koge nuzzled her face up against his neck, her tail falling to rest over his legs, intertwining with his as he calmed. Holding her body in closer, Bakugou scoffed quietly, lifting his head so he could see her face. 

“You use that against me. Because I can’t help it.” 

“Why can’t you help it?” Koge nuzzled her nose against his tenderly, smiling at the sight of his reptilian pupils dilating in pleasurable response to her affections. “You can’t hide your mushy feelings from me, now. Of course I might take advantage of that sometimes.” 

“I can’t help it for obvious fucking reasons.” Bakugou’s snarl and growl of his voice didn’t match his touch or change in the pitch of his purr, spurred on by Koge letting her leg rest over his hips so she could be closer to him. “I love your stupid ass, of course I’m going to start up if you do.” 

“It’s so cute!” She placed a soft kiss on his lips, though found herself trapped for more than just a few moments as he refused to let her pull away, his hand even slipping up her back to rest against the back of her head. “Mm… I didn’t expect your dragon blood to make you so… affectionate.” 

“The fuck does that mean?” With a growl against her lips, Bakugou rolled them over so she was beneath him, taking both of her arms to pin them up above her head, fingers lacing with hers tenderly. “I���m not any more affectionate than I was, dumbass.” Squeezing his hips playfully with her knees, Koge’s smile grew sly. 

“I just expected you to become more aggressive and territorial. But instead you’re super sweet, purring, and cuddly. Just like a little pup.” 

“Excuse me?!” Bakugou’s purr was cut short with his rush of agitation, his voice booming through their large chambers as Koge laughed. “I’m not a fucking whelp! You take that back!” 

“What are you gonna do about it, pup?” Koge couldn’t resist a grin at the flushing of his cheeks, baring her fangs to him playfully. “Gonna whine and spew a little fire out of your nose? Or are you gonna put me in my place?” 

With a frustrated growl, Bakugou could only glare down at her for a moment before pulling away, sitting up turning to sit on the edge of the bed, once again facing the mirror. “Oh fuck off! You know I can’t!” 

Frowning as guilt began to creep up on her, Koge sat up as well, placing her hand gingerly on his back. “Ah Katsuki, I’m sorry. I… I’ve just been feeling a little frisky lately, especially since that… new change happened. I’m… It’s a bit hard for me to control myself.” 

“Tch… It’s fine.” Bakugou’s glare was once again locked on his own reflection, though the center of his focus was his hips. There was another change to his body, one that he had been doing everything he could to hide from her until recently and had continually hoped that it would just vanish. It happened at the worst time, too, as Koge had just gotten to where she was comfortable making love to him again after further recovering from her trauma as a slave. They had almost gotten back to normal, and then his bloodline had to make the biggest dick move ever. Quite literally, in fact. 

His manhood had changed to further match his outward extremities. It wasn’t all that extreme, but it was enough to not only make him horrifically self-conscious about it, but fear that he would never properly have sex again. It had grown, in length and girth, with mostly human characteristics, outside of scales at the base that wrapped back around his hips to his tail, a series of ridges along the sides, and a more angled tip. The foreskin he had always sported did little to hide the changes, even when completely flaccid, though hiding it at all was impossible at this point. 

With heightened senses and urges, Bakugou found himself craving Koge’s attention, affection, and body more frequently than he had before. They had gotten used to it when his dick was normal, but for a few weeks, now, he had to suffer through the urges without being able to satisfy himself in any way. At first, he came up with excuses as to why he didn’t want to or couldn’t, mostly concerning the pain of his tail - which wasn’t completely a lie - just so that he could avoid the situation all together. But much to his dismay, Koge was quite clever, and she picked up on his odd behavior quickly. 

“Your dick changed, didn’t it?” She had cornered him one morning when she had tried to come onto him right before he got into the bath. “Let me see it!” 

He had let her, of course, but that only made things worse for him. She wasn’t put off by the changes in the slightest, nor was she concerned that it would be an issue. But he was, and he couldn’t quite get the fear out of his head. Of course, he knew that he would have to come to terms with it eventually and try to do something with this change, even if that jump was going to be difficult. Each time Koge offered to work with him or try anything, he’d back out, leaving him with a very painful experience of having to let his raging boner settle on its own. He couldn’t quite find it within himself to masturbate to get rid of the buildup or his urges, as even the feeling and pleasures were different and way more intense than what he was used to. Out of everything, his dick was the last thing he expected to change, and it had oddly taken the biggest mental toll on him. 

His erections were impossible to hide. Any touch that wasn’t his clothing or taking a piss felt like white hot lightning sparking through his body. Sitting or laying were made even more awkward when paired with his tail. He couldn’t properly make love to his wife. He couldn’t pleasure himself. He had to learn how to not walk awkwardly. Any clothes that could accommodate his tail still couldn’t handle his new manhood. 

He was different from head to toe, and that bothered him more than he was willing to say out loud. In the end, he didn’t need to say anything. Koge could see it all, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating for her, too. She wanted to help him adjust, more than anything, but it was impossible if he continually blocked himself off like this. Even now, he was trying to hide his obvious boner with his arms, and the discomfort on his expression was worrisome. He may be too reluctant to do something about it himself, but Koge knew that eventually, she’d have to show him that it was okay. By ‘eventually’, she knew that it would have to be now, while the subject was brought to the front and they had no chance of being interrupted. 

“Katsuki,” Koge purred near his ear softly, resting her body against his back while her arms came to rest over his broad shoulders. “Let me try-” 

“-Koge-” 

“- Just a little. You can’t keep going like this. We can’t keep going like this. Sooner or later, you have to let me face the dragon dick. If you just let me try, you’ll see that it’ll be okay.” 

Bakugou glowered at his lover out of the corner of his eye, still hunched over his own body in reluctance and worry. “You haven’t seen it erect yet, Koge. It’s… You can’t take it.” 

“You underestimate me a little, I think.” Koge nuzzled her nose against his cheek, giving him a firm kiss on the flushed skin. “I’m not human, remember? And your body is reacting to me. I’ll show you that I can take it just fine. Please?” 

“I’ll feel like shit if it doesn’t work out…” 

“Or you’ll continue to feel like shit if you never try. Right?” 

“Tch… You’re right.” 

Scooting off the bed, Koge stood in front of him, holding both of her hands out towards him. “Well? Let me help you, Katsuki. I promise it will feel good for both of us.” Although he wanted to take her hands immediately, Bakugou still hesitated, glancing over her body before catching her gentle gaze. Just looking at her like this, clad in nothing but a white sleeping gown, so flushed and unexpecting, had him immediately struggling not to snatch her off her feet and pin her onto the bed beneath him. The thought had his manhood straining, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to take this type of painful tension any longer. He needed to get past this, so he shifted himself to sit up, taking both of her hands tenderly in acceptance of her help. 

Smiling, Koge stepped in closer to stand between his legs, letting her hands slide up his arms with a slow and gentle touch that had goosebumps prickling along his skin. As she caressed the sides of his neck, his hands took hold of her petite hips, scooting himself closer to the edge of the bed to be able to pull her body flush against him. It was so incredibly difficult to hold himself back, the feeling of her body beneath his hands and the scent of her arousal completely overwhelming him, but the tender kisses she placed on his lips helped keep him grounded. Her purr soothed him, almost to the point that he felt as if he were floating, not noticing her hands slip down between their bodies until they sneaked beneath his pants to grip the source of his problems. 

At first, the hiss that escaped from between his teeth was from the chill of her hands, until her fingers traced along the prominent ridges, each little bump feeling as if she were stroking his tip. Or, what he remembered stimulation to his tip feeling like when he still had a normal dick. Then, the hiss grew into a deep growl, his entire body stiffening and his hands slipping around to grip her backside as she stroked him with both hands, up and down the aching shaft while avoiding the tip. “Mm, fuck- Yeah, tighter. That’s it-!” 

“My hands can’t even wrap around it all the way, Katsuki. And you’re dribbling so much cum already. It’s so warm.” Taking half a step back, Koge shifted his pants down out of the way to free him completely, keeping a little space between them so she could see her work. She wasn’t the only one watching, Bakugou’s eyes locked on the way her hands moved, displacing the slowly flowing precum with each firm stroke up and down his shaft. With the liquid acting as a lubricant, Koge was able to increase her speed, stroking all the way from the base to right before the tip. Before long, Bakugou’s entire body was trembling, his face shoved into her shoulder as he struggled to control his urges to pant and moan. 

“Stop teasing me, Koge!” 

“If I go there, you’ll cum really quick.” 

“Do it!” 

The growling demand made Koge bite her bottom lip, stroking from the base all the way back up to the tip, which immediately forced a trembling moan from his lips as he pulled her body back in closer. He was throbbing in her hands by now, each new stroke across his sensitive tip sending him further into an uncontrollable ecstasy. Within no time, what Koge had warned came to fruition, with Bakugou cumming after a few teasing strokes of her thumb around his tip. The petite woman didn’t expect it, of course, nor did she expect Bakugou to tug her body back up against him while rutting his hips forward so his cock stroked against the silk of her gown and soft form of her stomach. Within seconds, the front of the gown was drenched with his cum, the load much larger than either of them could have really expected. It stuck fast to Koge’s skin, hot and thick, coating her fingers and soaking through the thin fabric of her gown to dribble down her stomach. 

Panting as he came down from his high, Bakugou kept his face shoved into her shoulder, his entire body tingling with the weight of his release. “Fuck… That’s so much more than before…” 

“If you mean cum, then yeah, that’s a lot.” Koge moved back from him a bit, prompting Bakugou to sit up himself and observe the damage. One hand still lightly stroking up and down his still hard shaft, Koge brought the other to her lips, licking the cum from her fingers. “Mm, yummy. You even taste better, Katsuki.” 

“That’s a weird thing to notice.” Bakugou glowered up at his lover as she took another step back, first wiping her hands on her already ruined shift before pulling her arms inside and out through the neck opening. With it being so oversized, and with the added weight of the liquid that soaked it, it fell around her feet, leaving her bare. Just like nearly every time he saw her like this, Bakugou felt a lump grow in his throat, the glow of her pale skin in the dim light bringing on the urge to just touch and squeeze. Though, even as the chance presented itself to him with her crawling up onto his lap, he felt frozen, the nerves of still not being able to do this properly creeping back up on him. “Koge-” 

“Shh,” Holding onto his shoulders for support and facing him, Koge straddled his lap, knees firmly dug into the mattress. Not quite sitting down onto him yet, the halfling arched her backside out, turning her head a bit to look over her shoulder at the mirror behind them. “Look, Katsuki. See how wet you make me? How badly my body wants you?” 

Tearing his eyes off her collarbone area to look over her shoulder as well, the fire in Bakugou’s chest grew hotter from the view she presented to him, having to clench his teeth together to keep him from acting out. Dripping with her essence, Koge’s pussy was incredibly enticing, puffy, and pink with the need for the attention she had been denied all this time. Even still, she was so incredibly small compared to him, and her petite body just didn’t seem like it would be able to take him comfortably. “Koge… It won’t-” 

“It will,” Shifting her hips up, Koge let his cock rest between her legs, lowering herself down just enough to be able to grind against him. “I want your cock inside me so badly, Katsuki.” Cupping his cheeks, Koge kept her lips close to his, moaning softly with the stimulation to her clit. “Please let me. I’m begging you. Can’t you feel how hot my body is for you?” 

Gripping onto her hips tightly, Bakugou lightly dug his claws into her skin in frustration, which only prompted more vigorous efforts from his wife. Of course he wanted this. He wanted to fill her up to the brim and fuck her until she was an absolute mess. And he could. She wanted it. Then, with a teasing swipe of her cunt along his tip, she broke his restraint, and all he wanted was to be inside her. With a low growl, he reached up and took a fist full of her hair into his grip at the base of her head, firm enough to make her gasp and stop the rolling of her hips. 

“Fine.” Bakugou growled against her jawline, keeping her head firmly pulled back to keep her submissive and in place. “But you’d better be able to take it.” With that, his other hand guided her hips up and back, his tip slipping inside of her with ease. Immediately, a sharp gasp erupted from her throat, both of her hands moving back to clutch onto his shoulders while it took every ounce of Bakugou’s self-control not to slam her down all the way. Instead, he urged her down inch by inch, her chest heaving and body trembling as she took him in. By the time he was completely sheathed inside her, Koge was already nothing more than a panting mess, eyes rolled back, and nails dug into his skin. “Look at you. Fucking ruined already.” 

The sound of his voice helped pull her back, biting down onto her bottom lip when he released her hair and catching his gaze. “I-I can take it, though. See? I just… Mm, it feels so good, I can’t… I can’t move.” Koge looked back over her shoulder again to see them, her cheeks flushing bright red at how huge he looked stretching her out like this. 

Smirking, Bakugou pressed his lips against her temple, his eyes on their reflection as well. “Let me help you.” Finding that they were sufficiently lubricated, both from her and from his still present cum, Bakugou was easily able to pull her hips up and back down again, using his strength to make her bounce on his cock. The moans that escaped from her lips were like none he had heard before, the pure ecstasy drowning out all rational thought she may have had left. Within no time, she had taken over the rhythm, slamming her hips down onto him from tip to base with only the pleasure driving her forward. 

Resting back on his hands to keep them supported, Bakugou couldn’t get his eyes off their reflection, just seeing her body bounce and the way his cock vanished inside her hypnotizing him completely. She could take him, and the feeling of being one with her again like this was beyond what he would consider to be euphoria. Though, it was when she began to grind her hips that he nearly lost his control, tearing his eyes away from the mirror to look down at her. Leaning back with her hands supported on his knees, Koge rolled her hips with just as much effort as she had been before, though her eyes were locked on her stomach. 

“F-fuck-!” Overwhelmed with the pleasure, tears began to roll down her brightly flushed cheeks, though they were of little consequence. “Fuck! It’s so good! Your cock is so good! So deep inside me! You can…- ah! You can see it!” Sure enough, with each passing roll of her hips, a bulge was visible in her lower abdomen, instantly bringing a deep growl of satisfaction from Bakugou’s chest. 

“Yeah? You like seeing that while you fuck yourself on my cock, Koge?” One arm still behind him for support, his other hand came up to grip her hip, urging her to be more aggressive. “How I fill up that slutty fucking pussy?” 

“Yes!” Koge’s voice squeaked and trembled, struggling to keep up the momentum against the pleasure. “I love it!” 

“Well here, let me give you a better view.” Simultaneously standing up and scooping her body up off his cock, Bakugou made his way over to the mirror, turning her so that her back was pressed against his torso while supporting and spreading open her legs. Puzzled, Koge could only stare at their reflections, watching his cock twitch and her essence leak from her cunt that was aching for his return. With this view, she could truly see the size of him compared to her, making her feel suddenly so small and vulnerable, yet she wanted his cock back inside her more than anything in that moment. 

“K-Katsuki-!” 

“What, baby? You want it back inside you?” 

“Please!” Koge flexed her feet and toes impatiently, sniffling against her stuffed-up nose that came along with the tears. “Please, Katsuki! Put it back inside- a-ah!!” Clenching her eyes shut tightly, Koge leaned her head back against his shoulder at the feeling of his tip slipping back inside her, though her reaction was cut short by Bakugou’s deep and demanding growl in her ear. 

“Lift your head up and watch, you horny bitch. I want you to watch how my cock stretches out that tight little cunt.” 

Taking in trembling breaths, Koge weakly lifted her head, teary gaze locked back on their reflections. She watched as demanded, gasping and hiccupping as each inch vanished inside her, until he had filled her up to the base. In this position, the bulge in her lower abdomen was even more visible, though she didn’t have much time to take it all in before he started to thrust his hips up into her. A squeal escaped her parted lips with the first rough thrust, sending more pleasured tears cascading down her cheeks as he fucked her. With him in control, it felt like a completely different experience, her mind no longer having to focus on attempting to move. 

Now, all she had was him, fucking her relentlessly while she rested secure against his chest. The visual of them only made her hotter, able to see the way his cock ravaged her, his large hands supporting her legs, her breasts bouncing with the movement, and even his expression. That is what she loved to watch the most, how his expression was contorted with the pleasure and he was absolutely lost in it. Though, his eyes were on the reflection as well, and they eventually caught hers staring at his face. 

Bakugou felt himself immediately overwhelmed with the state of her ruined body, limp in his grip and completely drunk with pleasure. He wanted to destroy her more, to sink his teeth and claws into her silky flesh until she was marked head to toe by him. And yet, he wanted to hold and caress her, just to feel her tender touch along his burning skin. He wanted all of her and more. “What, Koge? Is it too much for you?”

“N-no-!”

“No?”

“No! I-I love it! I love it! Fuck-!” Koge leaned her head back, eyes rolling up as Bakugou adjusted the position to slam even harder into her. “Yes! I-I haven’t stopped cumming since you put it inside me-! I can’t think!”

“You’re such a good girl. You want my cum, baby?”

“Yes! Yes, I want it! Please fill me up! Breed me! I’m begging you!” 

Something animalistic snapped inside Bakugou with her plea, and without a second thought, he turned and shoved her face down into the bed, keeping her hips up in his firm grip as he fucked her mercilessly. Koge’s voice once again peaked, clutching onto the sheets as she moaned and cried into them. The new aggression and dominance he was displaying had her entire body screaming to have his cum inside her, the urge to mate with him so strong that she couldn’t ignore it. All she could sense was him, from his scent to the taste his cum had left on her lips, and without him she knew she would surely go insane. 

“Such an obedient little mate,” Bakugou’s grunts and moans began to mix with a deep growl, sending prickling goosebumps across Koge’s flushed and sweaty skin. “I’ll fill you up, slut. I’ll make sure you get what you’re begging for.”

Within the next few moments, Bakugou’s thrusts became erratic as he shifted his body closer to hover over her, digging himself in as deep as he could as he released inside her. With each rough buck of his hips into hers, Koge could feel the hot, thick liquid fill her, struggling to find room beside the large presence of his cock. Still, she couldn’t move or say a word, her entire body twitching and pulsing with the remnants of her final orgasm, squeezing his cock and forcing a sharp hiss from his behind his teeth. 

“That’s it, baby. Take it all in.” Taking hold of her ass in his hands, Bakugou spread her open, smirking in satisfaction at the sight of his cum leaking from her cunt around his cock. Slowly, he began to pull out, giving a deep purr at the mess his cum made with his exit, dribbling from her and onto the bed. “Fuck. Your cunt’s too small for all that cum, Koge.” 

Panting as she tried to recover some feeling in her limbs, Koge weakly reached down between her legs, using her petite fingers to stroke along her cum stained pussy, pushing them inside her and spreading herself open. “C’mon, Katsuki… Don’t let it all drip out. I told you to breed me.”

“You think I’m done with you?” Grabbing her by the arms, Bakugou pulled her upper body back against his, one of his hands caressing her neck while he kissed her flushed cheek tenderly. “My pretty mate… I’ll make sure you’re bred properly.”

Smiling, Koge placed her hand on his cheek, guiding his lips down to hers. “Mm… you’d better. Now shove that big cock back inside me. And make sure to use your teeth this time. Don’t be gentle with me.”

“Only if you beg.”

[whorderofthepheonix]

Yes, Sir: Part 1 of ? || Ransom Drysdale // Knives Out

A/N: I’ve missed writing for you guys! I hope you guys enjoy this! If you haven’t seen Knives Out, you can totally still read this. It doesn’t have any spoilers! (Except maybe character descriptions, but that’s it). (TAG LIST IS OPEN!) YOU MUST AGREE TO REBLOG W/ COMMENTS TO CONTINUE TO BE ON THE TAGLIST! NO EXCEPTION

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: (18+) Angst (Ransom’s a fucking asshole), Smut (Fingering, oral, etc), Classism, Swearing, Humiliation

IF YOU ENJOY MY WORK, PLEASE REBLOG WITH FEEDBACK! IT’S VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!

Raquel’s POV

(Set a year before the events Knives Out)

Harlan Thrombey is the kindest employer I’ve ever had. Scratch that. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met. He was respectful, fun, and he’s incredibly generous. A few years back, I was simply looking for a part-time cleaning job to help pay for college, and when I met Harlan, not only did he hire me as one of his housekeepers, he paid off my student debt ENTIRELY. I wasn’t very close to my own family so Harlan and the other people who worked at the mansion were my new family. It was always kind, loving, and fun to go to work everyday.

Except when his family would visit.

A small percentage of the Thrombey clan treated me like a human being. I didn’t wanna say they were racist but... They were extremely racially insensitive. Especially to me and Harlan’s nurse Marta. I once got dragged into a very uncomfortable discussion about being black in America which Richard Drysdale, Harlan’s son-in-law, swore he was an expert in. I bit my tongue as Richard and Walt Thrombey insisted that “nigga” was just a word and that everyone should be able to say it...

Okay. They were racist as fuck.

But believe it or not, I’d rather deal with their racial ignorance than deal with Richard and Linda’s son, Ransom. Well to me, he was Hugh, because he ordered “The Help” to call him Hugh. Lord help any staff who called him Ransom to his face. The gardener, Luiz, did once and Ransom went berserk on him. He had him fired and I believe he tried to have him deported. I shook the memory out of my head and continued dusting. The Thrombreys were coming to the mansion tonight to celebrate Linda’s biggest sale to date. They’ll think of any reason to throw a party at the estate. According to the guest list, the entire family was to be in attendance. Ransom included. They were gonna be here any moment. I had cleaned the bedrooms twice (Ransom’s 3 times), swept, mopped, and vacuumed every room, and even polished the doorknobs. I was praying that the first set of guests would be tolerable ones-

“Hello, hello!” Joni Thrombey, Harlan’s Daughter-In-Law, called as she entered the house with bags galore.

“Miss Joni,” I smiled. “Welcome! May I take your bags up to your room?”

“Thank you so much, Raquel, and please just call me Joni” she handed me her bags. “Please be careful! My dress is from Armani! Just hang it up in the closet.” I nodded and lugged her bags up to the second floor. Once her dress was in the closet, I started to unpack her bag as the door opened up again. Meg Thrombey, Joni’s daughter and Harlan’s Granddaughter walked in, happily. We actually attended the same college and were best friends, even though she’s a couple years younger than I am. She’s the one who got me this job.

“Meg!” I gushed hugging her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Rocky! I’ve missed you!” She smiled. “Emerson is so boring without you!”

“Sometimes, I miss it,” I frowned. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful to have this amazing job! I just wish I could do more.”

“I totally understand that! Listen, the old gang wants to hang out later tonight. Wanna join us? We’re headed down to the pier.”

“That would be amazing!” I squealed. “As soon as I’m done working-”

“Um, HELLO?” Linda Thrombey’s voice called from the first floor. “Where are the housekeepers? Can someone please get my bags?!”

“Shit,” I whispered. I dashed out the room and down the stairs. “Miss Linda, hi. I’m so sorry. I was just unpacking Miss Joni’s things-”

“Oh, heaven forbid you help my dad’s actual daughter!” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s not forget, this party is for me!”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again,” I reassured her. Linda walked into her and Richard’s bedroom, which was located on the first floor. Richard walked into the house seconds later.

“I apologize Rachel,” he sighed. ‘Raquel’ I corrected in my mind. “She’s under immense pressure from this deal. I’m sure she’ll lighten up.”

“It’s really okay, Mr. Drysdale,” I insisted. “It was my fault.” I take his bags and well and bring them into the bedroom. Linda was smoking a cigarette and yelling at someone over the phone. Harlan knew his children smoked but he never allowed it indoors. But considering that Linda was being a bitch right now, I decided to leave it alone. As I unpacked their things, I heard the sounds of Walter and his family arrive. Fran, the other housekeeper, must’ve been helping them since I heard them go upstairs without complaint. When I was done, I stood in the doorway ready to go.

“Is there anything else you need, Miss?” I asked.

“Yes, bring me a scotch on the rocks,” she said without looking up from her phone. I nodded and went out to the bar. As I was making her drink, the familiar sound of tires screeching came from outside the house. Fran ran over to me.

“Not it,” she whispered before running into the kitchen. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what was about to happen. Ransom Drysdale walked into the mansion, sunglasses on, leather duffle bag in one hand, his phone in the other.

“Where the hell is The Help?” He hissed walking into the parlour. He spotted me and strutted over. “Hey, Maid!” He called. I placed Linda’s drink on a tray and looked at him.

“Hugh,” I said blandly.

“I’ve been here for 15 seconds and you haven’t taken my bags,” he hissed.

“I’m not sure if you noticed but I’m doing something- Hey!” I protested as he took the scotch off the tray and sipped it. “That was for your mother...”

“Well, it looks like it’s for me now,” he smirked and threw his jacket me. I pulled it off my face and threw it to the floor. He sat in an armchair and watched me as I made Linda another drink. “Your ass looks great by the way. Those leggings are working well for you.”

“Your grandfather told you you’re not allowed to say things like that to us, anymore,” I reminded him. “It’s sexual harassment.”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” he laughed. “What’re you gonna do? Sue me?” Just then, Linda entered the parlour.

“Jesus, Rachel! How long does it take to pour a scotch?” She groaned. Then she saw Ransom sitting and her whole demeanor changed. “Ransom! My baby! How are you?” She peppered his face with kisses.

“I’d be a lot better if Grandad hired decent Help,” he rolled his eyes. “She was just standing at the bar when I got in. Didn’t greet me or anything.”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” she frowned. “She had your father and I waiting at the door as well, don’t take it personally.” Then she walked over to me and hissed, “You owe Ransom an apology! He shouldn’t have to deal with this while visiting his family!” She snatched her new drink from the bar and noticed his coat on the floor. She picked it up and shoved it into my hands. “And hang this up!” I took a deep breath and bit the insides of my cheeks.

“Hugh, I apologize for keeping you waiting,” I said through my teeth. “It won’t happen again.” He smirked as I picked up his duffle and carried it up to his room. He didn’t actually have a room here so he was just occupping one of the many guest rooms... The biggest guest room in fact. It was originally his parents’ room but he made the trade. I unpacked his bags and made sure everything was perfect as he came in the room. He looked around, nodding.

“Looks good. Now get the hell out, I’m gonna shower,” he ordered. “Unless you care to join me.” I desperately wanted to tell him to eat shit, but I swallowed my pride and left the room.

***

As Fran and I set up the decorations, Marta came downstairs, looking uneasy.

“You okay, Marta?” I asked.

“Um, Hugh is upstairs asking for the maid,” she told us. “He says come now.”

“Fine,” Fran frowned. “Raquel, you dealt with him earlier so I’ll-”

“He says... He says he wants the Black Maid,” Marta whispered. I sighed and stopped folding napkins.

“I’ll be back,” I sighed. “Hopefully, I won’t be too long.” I went up to Ransom’s room and knocked on the door. “Mr. Hugh?”

“Come in,” he told me. I opened the door and looked at him. He was only in a towel sitting on his bed and looking through his phone. He didn’t look up as I entered. “Why are you just standing around? The bathroom needs to be cleaned again. Hurry up.” I opened the bathroom door and sure enough, he had destroyed it. All the towels were used and thrown on the floor, the floor was soaked, and the garbage turned over. I sighed and got to work. God he was such an asshole... He was definitely doing this on purpose. Ever since I got hired, Ransom wanted to make sure I knew my place... Which was below him. I was mopping up the water when I heard grunting coming from the other side of the door. I cracked it open and looked out. I pulled my head back in quickly when I saw what it was... Or was it? To double check, I peeked out again and confirmed what I had seen. Yup. I was right.

Ransom had dropped his towel and was facing the wall, jerking off. His back was to me and his hand was pressed against the wall, keeping him upright. I couldn’t see what he was working with, if you know what I mean, but I didn’t want to get caught watching my boss’ grandson masturbate. I went back into the bathroom and finished up, so I could leave without him knowing. I was almost to the bedroom door when-

“Wait,” Ransom grunted. I turned around. He was still holding onto the wall for support. He muttered something under his breath then moaned loudly. He picked up his towel from the floor and wrapped it back around his hips. He walked over to me and smirked. “You missed a spot.” And he nudged his head in the direction of where he was standing. Sure enough, the content of his solo exploits was running down the wall and dripping onto the floor. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get to cleaning.”

“You’re such an asshole, Hugh,” I hissed.

“I know,” he shrugged. “I just like thinking of ways to embarrass you. But don’t act like you didn’t enjoy watching...” He winked at me. “Now hurry up-”

“No.” I hissed.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He asked stepping closer. “I don’t think I heard you correctly-”

“Then read my lips, you entitled prick!” I hissed. “I’m not fucking doing it! In case you’ve forgotten, you don’t live here, therefore, I don’t fucking work for you!” I threw him a rag and opened the door. “Clean it your fucking self!”

***

When the party actually started, I changed into the outfit Linda requested I wear. A button up blouse and a knee length skirt that she so kindly gave all of the Help. Linda was also in a better mood. My guess is, she remembered everyone was there to celebrate her and she would be the center of attention... Which she loves. I hadn’t seen Ransom since earlier. He was gonna arrive late, probably cause a scene, argue with Meg, then retreat to the guest room with one of the long legged blonde attendees. I was handing out hors d’oeuvres in the foyer when Ransom approached me.

“Go away, Hugh,” I said. “I’m working.”

“Relax. I came to apologize,” he sighed. I looked up at him confused. “I may have been... A bit obnoxious when I first got here. And what happened in the bedroom before... I crossed the line and I’m sorry.” I was shocked. Never, in the years that I’ve worked here, have I heard Ransom apologize!

“Oh... Wow. Thank you, Hugh,” I acknowledged him.

“Call me, Ransom,” he shrugged. “Just don’t let the other Help hear you.” I smiled slightly and nodded.

“I should go... I have to refill my tray,” I told him. “If you’ll excuse me-” He grabbed my arm and stepped closer to me.

“Did you like it?” He whispered.

“I’m sorry?”

“Watching me... Did you like it?” He repeated. I didn’t know how to answer... I never saw Ransom as someone I could be attracted to because his asshole personality would always cloud any other perception of him... But now that I think about it... He was sexy as fuck.

“I... I wasn’t watching you-”

“Don’t lie,” he smirked. He tilted my chin up and made me look into his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. “You liked it... Didn’t you?” My mouth was dry and my heart was racing. “Tell me you liked it...” I had to get out of there.

“I have to go,” I whispered, scurrying out of the foyer. I ran into the empty hall and took a deep breath. I leaned on the credenza for support. What was going on? This was Hugh! He’s a pig, he’s an asshat, he hates lower class people, he... Was coming this way. I made it look like I was busy doing something as he approached me. “Ransom... Hugh. I need to keep working. So please just-” He pressed himself against me, making sure my butt was pressed against him. My breath hitch and I was panting softly. His fingers danced up and down my arms, sending tingles all throughout my body.

“Why are you running from the truth?” He asked, leaning in close to my ear. “You’re so fucking sexy... Just the thought of you watching me...” He pulled me closer to him and pressed his erection against my butt. “Makes me so hard...” I grabbed onto the fabric that laid across the credenza, breathing harder. It was like my body was betraying me. I clenched my thighs together trying to release the aching in between my legs. Ransom noticed and ran his hand up my leg. “Uh-uh. Let me help you with that...” He spread my legs and traced my inner thighs lightly. His other arm, wrapped around my shoulders and his fingers lingered on the base of my throat. As he caressed my thighs, his fingers kept brushing against my core. I bit my lip to stop from moaning out. It had been a while since I’ve been... Intimate with another person. My body was extremely sensitive to his touch. So sensitive in fact, that when he slipped his hand down into my skirt and past my panties, I nearly lost it. I grabbed his wrist and moaned out loud. It’s like his ‘Dominate’ switch was activated when I did that because he had a loose grip on my throat, putting minimal pressure, and he pulled me fully back against his chest. “That’s a good girl...” He whispered in my ear. “Such a good girl...” I felt myself on the edge already. He wasn’t even doing much. Just rubbing me gently.

“Fuck,” I moaned, quietly. But footsteps coming from around the corner made Ransom pull his hand out my underwear and stand up straight. Linda came scurrying down the hall.

“Ransom, honey, there are some people I’d like you to meet,” she grinned.

“I’ll be right there,” he told her. “I just need to finish having a word with this one.” She turned around and went back into the parlour. He turned to me. “In an hour, go up to my room and wait for me... I’ll finish what I started. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” I nodded. He tilted my chin up.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Ransom,” I agreed. He leaned in close.

“Next time. Call me Sir,” he whispered, before biting on my earlobe then disappearing around the corner.

***

I couldn’t keep a steady thought throughout the party. Ransom didn’t make eye contact with me the entire time. His eyes stayed glued to his phone, even when his mother was making a toast, whilst antagonizing Meg, and when Harlan came down to greet the family, he looked up for a second, then was back to his phone. I glanced at my watch. 10 minutes until the rendezvous and my heart was racing. To calm my nerves, I cruised around the parlour, collecting dirty dishes. Linda, Walt and Richard were having one of their “cultural” discussions and I knew I had made a mistake once I stepped into the room.

“Oh, Rachel!” Linda spoke. ‘Raquel’ I corrected in my mind. “I’m so sorry about how I acted earlier! I wasn’t feeling like myself and I truly apologize.”

“It’s truly no problem, ma’am,” I smiled weakly. I picked up the dishes and tried to leave the room.

“Rachel, a moment?” Richard called. I took a deep breath and turned back around. “How old were you when you first came to this country?”

“Excuse me?” I gasped. I was used to the microaggressions like Joni asking me where I got my lips done or asking to touch my hair, but THIS SHIT was going to far! “‘When did I come to this country?!’” By now everyone in the room, including Ransom were looking in our direction.

“I’m sorry... is it a touchy subject?” He asked. I put the dishes down and turned to him.

“I was born in Cambridge,” I told him. “And before you ask, my parents were born in New York City. What gave you the impression that I wasn’t born here?” ‘Besides the color of my skin.’ I wanted to add.

“Oh... my mistake,” Richard nodded. “I just thought that-”

“You thought wrong,” I sighed picking the dishes back up. As I walked out of the room, I noticed Ransom snickering from behind his phone. I knew my comment might cause some drama so I decided to get out of the party atmosphere and upstairs to Ransom’s room. I waited patiently and looked around. He kept it tidy. The wall was cleaned from earlier and his clothes were folded neatly on top of the dresser. I looked at my watch. Just a few more minutes until Ransom joined me upstairs. I’ll freshen up in the meantime. I walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding against my chest and I felt nervous. I splashed some water on my face and took several deep breaths. I heard shuffling coming from the other side of the door and I knew it was Ransom. I turned off the sink, dried my face, and went into the next room. He was adjusting something in his wardrobe when he noticed me. He walked over, smirking.

“You know, I said don’t draw attention to yourself,” he chuckled. “Telling my father off counts as drawing attention to yourself.”

“Sorry about that,” I nervously chuckled. “You dad is just... He’s a lot sometimes.”

“Trust me, I know. But enough about him. I think we were in the middle of something...” He bent down and kissed the nape of my neck, his hands roaming my body. I was moaning instantly. Being with Ransom made me feel dirty... But in a good way. I felt like a naughty girl hooking up with the bad boy next door. He was fondling my breasts and his knee kept my legs parted, rubbing against my vagina. He started to undo the buttons on my blouse when I had a sense of panic.

“Wait,” I gasped. He looked at me confused, still unbuttoning. “We shouldn’t do this... This is wrong-”

“Does it feel good?” He whispered, grinding me against his thigh. I moaned and nodded. “Then what’s the issue?” His hand went up my skirt and he pulled my panties down to my ankles. I don’t know why I was SO sensitive! The moment his fingers made contact with me, I grabbed onto him and moaned loudly. “Shit! You’re so fucking wet...” Ransom’s middle finger entered me while his thumb rubbed circles on my clit.

“God, yes!” I moaned. While his right hand worked wonders on me, his left hand finished undoing my top then began kneading my breast through my bra. “Fuck... I’m so close, Ransom...”

“No, not yet,” he told me.

“I can’t! Please don’t make-” He grabbed my face harshly and stared into my eyes.

“You better hold onto it, Raquel... I mean it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

“Good girl,” he smirked. He removed both hands from my body, leaving me feeling empty. But then he dropped to his knees and helped me step out of my panties before hosting my leg over his shoulder and placing his tongue expertly on my core.

“Fuck!” I cried out. My fingers combed through his hair and my legs started quivering. While his right hand was holding my leg, his left hand slipped under my bra and pinched my nipple. “I’m gonna cum!” He pulled away from me and started using his fingers again.

“Beg me,” he looked up at me. “Beg me or I’ll stop. Say ‘Please, Sir, let me cum.’”

“Please, Sir, let me cum,” I repeated.

“Beg better. Say it again.”

“Please, Sir, let me cum.”

“Again!”

“Please, Sir, let me cum!” I begged.

“Tell me I’m the boss of you.”

“You’re the boss of me,” I panted.

“Tell me you work for me,” he told me. I snapped back into reality and looked down at him.

“What did you just say?” I asked. He stood up and grinned. He tilted my chin towards the opposite wall.

“Look into the camera and tell me you work for me,” he whispered. “Jacob?” The youngest of the Thrombey clan exited the wardrobe, his cell phone in hand. I jumped back and fumbled trying to close my blouse.

“What the fuck is going on?!” I gasped. Ransom took the phone from Jacob and glanced at the screen, smiling.

“Well, it looks to me like you’re getting your pussy eaten by your boss’ grandson,” he smirked, turning the screen to me. “I wonder what would happen if he saw this... She’d probably get fired, right Jacob?”

“I’d fire her,” Jacob nodded.

“Please don’t do this,” I pleaded, trying to fight back tears.

“Don’t you mean, ‘Please don’t do this, Sir?’” Jacob mocked, making them both laugh.

“So, by the looks of it, it seems like you do work for me, Maid,” he got in my face. “And I’d watch your step from now on. Wouldn’t wanna accidentally send this to Grandfather...” I couldn’t hold back anymore and I burst into tears. Ransom looked at me confused. “Are... Are you actually crying...?��

“Go fuck yourself, Hugh!” I cried. I stormed out of the room, buttoning my shirt, tears streaming down my face.

~~~

A/N: Lmaoooo what did you expect?? Ransom is an asshole in and out of the movie. But it gets smuttier so... Stay tuned 😈😈😈

Taglist: @uhlxis​ @melannie77​ @tanyam93​ @scootybobooty​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @phatthor1234​ @dreamxeyes​ @blackpantherimagines​ @emoniclark22 @thedescentintoinsanity @scarletxwinter​ @05spn18​ @iammeantformuchmore​ @forbeautyandlife (TAG LIST IS OPEN!) YOU MUST AGREE TO REBLOG W/ COMMENTS TO CONTINUE TO BE ON THE TAGLIST! NO EXCEPTIONS!

[darlingsdevil]

The Ballads of Rebirth (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter 17: Epilogue

Masterlist

Tag list: @rollyjogerjones

A/N: This is it. This is the end. I wrote a little message for all of you to read, it would mean a lot if you did.

When I began this story a few days after Christmas, I wrote it on a whim. The story brewed in my mind for perhaps a max week before I began writing it. The original idea was inspired a lot by Big Fish the Musical, the musical I was in, in early December. I remember I used to write day after day and could get a chapter up daily, until around the sixth or seventh chapter. I can’t quite tell you how I did it, but I know if I hadn’t gotten that far so quickly, I would have never finished this story, it would have been added to my never ending pile of unfinished WIP’s. The Ballads of Rebirth was supposed to go in an entirely different direction that I had planned, Lee and Arthur’s feud was supposed to be way worse and bitter, and would have ended up with Arthur beating up Lee. Lee was supposed to be much more of an antagonist in the final chapters, a way worse of a person, but I couldn’t do it to him. In many ways, he was flawed, he was selfish at times and quick to judge, but he was still loving and goofy. I know people were not going to like him, they were rooting for Arthur after all. But I still love Lee, he was my first official rdr2 oc, my first fully fleshed out character. Quite frankly, I didn’t really ‘know’ who he was until I continued writing it, I had no personality built out for him until I began writing, and I just chose what felt right. That’s what happens with a lot of my stories, I write what feels right (which usually leads to plot holes because I don’t write shit down). But regardless, I love Lee, and I hope you’re satisfied with the ending I gave him.

There were a few times that I thought about giving up, that my story was absolute shit, that my plot holes were too confusing and my narrative was weak, and I was close to quitting. Until people began asking me when the new chapters would be out, what would happen next. While the numbers may be small, the dedication is what kept me going. And yeah, maybe my story isn’t the biggest rdr2 fic, maybe it’s not talked about in discord servers, but I don’t care, all that matters is that the fans that have stayed have shown me that I should continue writing, that there are people rooting for this story. I know, my story is full of plot holes, I know people don’t like Lee (which I’ll forever be bitter about), I know my story has grammatical errors, I know maybe I shouldn’t have killed off Mahala, I know there’s a lot I could have done, but there’s a lot I still did. As much as I think my story is weak, I’m still proud of the fact that I made it, that it is my own, that I created it and stuck through.

Sometimes, it’s not about what you could have done, it’s what you did. And that’s more valuable in many ways. Creating anything is powerful, and The Ballads of Rebirth taught me that.

So thank you, to every commentator, every person who left a like or kudo, every person who left an ask in my inbox, and especially everyone who complimented my writing style (which is apparently unique? and also these comments are a huge ego boost to me so if I’m cocky, it’s those peoples fault). Thank you for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoyed what I made.

I know I did.

••

Here Are Some Songs That Inspired This Story

1. Setting Sun - Lord Huron (Main inspiration)

2. Prologue - Starry (What I consider to be the main theme)

3. Sunlight and Storms - Starry (Inspiration for Lee and Reader’s relationship)

4. The Road - Starry (yeah.. I know there’s lots of Starry, but regardless, Arthur’s arc inspiration)

5. After The War - Stars (wow lots of star-esque things, Epilogue inspiration, I recommend listening to it while reading this)

•••

PS. The AU ending will be posted with the main story, as I realized many of you may not see it otherwise.

•••

Time passed quickly and solemnly. Life was peaceful and quiet. And you loved every second of it. After you and Arthur had left Richfield in search of the life you had lost, you and your husband had found it with Charles, in a small cottage down the road from him. Charles was happy to see you and Arthur returned to him.

And life was quiet, for a long time it was. You heard nothing of Micah and Dutch, the Pinkerton’s had stopped searching, it seemed the outlaw way had died out long ago too. You were scared Arthur or you would somehow slip back into it. you would blink and suddenly be pulled back into the life you so desperately tried to avoid, but the pull never came. The older you got, the lesser and lesser that percentage became.

The people of Wapiti had long since moved. You visited Mahala’s grave frequently, and thanked her for bringing Arthur back to you. You were sure you would have liked her.

You thanked Charles too, for being quick to find him. It was strange to think that without Charles’ swift action, Arthur would not be here today. Instead, you would be visiting his grave instead of Mahala’s.

John was exceptionally pleased to hear Arthur was still alive. Abigail wrote frequently to you for many years, you missed her dearly, but you had faith you would be reunited once more.

“Honey?” You called out to the doorway behind you.

“G’morning. I got what you asked me to pick up,” Arthur replied. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. He placed the box down at the table.

“Thank you. Breakfast is almost ready,” You said, scrambling some eggs on top of the stove. Arthur came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Someone’s touchy today,” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Missed you.” He nuzzled his face into your neck.

“You were gone for a day.”

“I’m not allowed to miss my dear wife?” He pretended to sound hurt.

“Not when you’re distracting me,” You replied nonchalantly, continuing to prepare the omelettes.

Arthur laughed heartily in your ear. “I give up then,” he said, removing his hold from your waist and putting his hands up in defeat.

“It’s almost ready, sit down.” You put the finishing touches on the omelettes and put them on plates. Arthur sat down at the small table while you fetched some forks. You stared through the window while your hands grabbed two forks, seeing the daffodils on the window, Arthur had bought for you a few days earlier.

You walked over to the table and set down the two plates, taking a seat across from Arthur. He grabbed at the plate hungrily and began to eat.

“You sure are hungry.”

“Starvin’. Been a day since I’ve had your lovely cooking,” Arthur smiled at you. You picked up your fork as well and began to eat.

“I forgot the coffee, hold on.” You realized after a few moments and walked over to the countertop to fetch the pot of coffee, pouring two cups for Arthur and you. You made yours how you liked it, and brought cream and sugar over to Arthur.

“Thank you,” He replied to the gesture, grabbing his cup. He put in a few spoonfuls of sugar and some cream, always the one with the sweet tooth.

You sipped your coffee while you ate your breakfast, glancing out towards the front windows. It was a nice day out, clear of clouds with a nice breeze. The garden still needed tending to, but at least later you could sit on the porch with Arthur.

“I invited Charles over for dinner tonight, by the way. I’m making roast beef and potatoes, and maybe an apple pie, I haven’t decided yet,” You shrugged.

“Make blueberry.” Arthur replied, picking up a newspaper from yesterday that was on the table.

“Blueberries aren’t in season.”

“Okay, then raspberry.”

“Not in season either.”

“Really? Well shit. Apple will have to do then.”

“You don’t like my apple pies?”

“What? No, I do! You just make them a lot. I feel like we’re having them every week,” Arthur laughed nervously.

You pretended to glare at him, “Then I’ll never make another apple pie again. You’re getting pie with no filling in all of them now.”

“Now I didn’t say that! I’m just saying, you make apple pies a lot, I like variety sometimes.”

“You lived with the gang for 20 years and ate the same stew for every meal but you’re complaining about me making apple pie once a week?” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“That’s why I like variety now. Couldn’t have it for so long, that once I get it I’ll never go back to eating the same thing.”

“Mhm.” You dragged out the sound, nodding sarcastically.

You stared at Arthur, he stared at you, a slight smile on his lips. “Just admit you don’t like my apple pies.”

“Would it make you happy if I said that?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know!”

“Listen, I like your apple pies, honestly. I just like some variety, that’s all,” He said, attempting to quell your fake anger.

“I’m never making an apple pie ever again,” You replied dramatically, slumping onto the table, reaching your hands out to hold his.

Arthur chucked at your dramatics.

“Just eat your omelette.”

•••

You thought of Lee frequently. Not that you yearned for him, or missed him, you simply wondered how he was doing. And in a way, he had heard your thoughts, after about two years of silence from him, Lee sent a letter.

“You have a letter,” Arthur had said one night when he came back from town, placing the letter on the table in front of you.

“Who’s it from?”

“Lee.”

“Lee sent me a letter?” You asked in disbelief, grabbing the envelope and examining the name on the front. Leroy Rinascita. Clear as day.

(Y/N),

It’s been quite some time since you left Richfield. I hope this letter finds you well. I took a chance and sent a letter to Valentine, a city Arthur had mentioned to me before, so if I don’t hear from you, I assume you’re somewhere else off in the country.

I hope you’re pleased with the choices you made. How is Arthur, by the way? I know we started off on the wrong foot (for good reason) but overall I found him to be a good, kind man. I can tell Arthur makes a good husband. I pray he’s not too angry with how I acted earlier towards him, water under the bridge, right?

I apologize for not sending a letter sooner, or perhaps I’m sorry for even writing this, in case you find this letter strange. I just wanted to know how you are doing. I’m doing well too. I’ve found someone as well who I enjoy very much, they live with me now. I guess you can say we got married, about two months ago actually. It wasn’t a conventional marriage of course. You actually already met them. I’m not sure you would expect who, but for the sake of prying eyes, I won’t reveal who they are in this letter. Other than marriage, life’s been pretty normal. The general store is doing well, there’s some new projects in the city too. A new candy store opened by the pier after the old one unfortunately burned down a few months after you had left. Richfield is bigger now, I feel like it’ll never stop growing. More and more people show up everyday. I barely even know the neighbors names these days.

As for my father, I’m pleased to say he’s still kicking. Somehow, the cancer went away, I couldn’t tell you how, the doctors can’t either. I’m really grateful for you convincing him to stay alive, to stay for me.

Your locket is still with me, I found an old family photo of my father, my mother and Anastasia as a newborn. It was strange to see my mother’s face after so many years, I had nearly forgotten it. I have an older photo of Anastasia too on the other side, my partner isn’t in the locket, only because I see them daily. I don’t need to be reminded that I love them.

But enough talk of me, how are you doing? I know it’s been a while, but I still care about you, and hope to know you’re doing well. Give Arthur a hello for me as well.

Regards,

Lee

You were happy to know Lee still cared, in some horrible nightmare you imagined that he despised you, that you were simply a dark phase in his life. And you were even happier that Lee had found someone and was truly living the life he had wanted. In a way, you were the same as him, both yearning for peace and quiet.

“Lee’s been doing well. I’m glad he sent this letter, he says hello to you, Arthur,” You told him, setting the letter down on the table.

“Good. I’m glad Lee’s doing okay.”

“Yeah, me too.”

•••

Even though Beecher’s Hope had many people living off its land, it did not feel crowded. Perhaps it was the sky that made it feel that way, the sky was endless, and when you and your family worked underneath it, it did not feel so small. The sky was infinite.

“Jack, will you go get Anne for me? She’s out by the chicken coop,” You had told the teenager.

“Sure thing, Aunt (Y/N),” He replied, walking towards the front door to fetch Anne for dinner. Although the Marston and Morgan houses were separate, the two families had practically lived in both. Jack was eating over for dinner, John and Abigail claiming you as his babysitter. Not that he needed one — or perhaps Uncle did.

“Arthur? Will you set the table for me, please? I have to go get Anne washed up once Jack brings her in,” You called out to Arthur behind you.

“Sure.” Arthur responded, he picked up the dishes next to you and began placing them on the table.

As you finished up cooking, you heard the shrill voice of Anne calling out to you. You immediately swiveled around as her tiny legs bounced up to you.

“There’s my little one!” You said joyously, she wrapped her arms around your leg and giggled. She was a near carbon copy of Arthur. She had his nose, his eyes, his mouth shape, but she had your hair and complexion. Regardless of who she looked more like — she was yours.

“Mama! I brought you a feather from the chicken coop!” She reached into her tiny dress pocket and pulled out a white feather. It was bigger and heavier than a chicken feather, you wondered what type of bird it was.

“Sorry, Uncle Arthur, she kind of made a mess in the chicken coop,” You heard Jack say to Arthur.

“You did? Oh thank you, sweetie.” You beamed at her, she watched you take it with big proud eyes. You placed the feather in your pocket, it’s long feathers sticking out.

“You’re welcome, mama.” You noticed the dirt on her face and on her knees as she said that. You scooped her up in your arms and took her into the bathroom to wash up.

You set her down next to the sink and began washing her knees with a wet washcloth.

“Mommy?”

“Yes?” You hummed, continuing to scrub the dirt off her knees.

“When is the baby coming?”

“Not for a couple more months.”

“Daddy thinks it’ll be a boy,” She told you matter of factly.

“Daddy thinks lots of things.”

“He told me he’s sure about this one.”

“When did daddy say that?” You asked, dipping the washcloth under the water, beginning to wipe the dirt off her cute face.

“Today. He told me while we were looking for flowers for you.”

“Okay, well, what else did he say?”

“He said he wants to name the baby Henry Hosea.”

You blinked at the name. Henry Hosea did sound nice. After all, Hosea was technically your adoptive father, as well as Arthur’s. Neither of you had really ever brought him up, avoiding that painful topic entirely. And Anne knew nothing of your past occupations, it was a story for another time, when she was older.

“I like the name Hosea,” Anne responded after being met by your silence.

“It’s a nice name,” Your voice nearly breaking. You subdued the tears in your eyes, after all that conversation was for another time.

When you finished cleaning Anne up, you brought her to dinner and sat her down next to Jack. You brought the food out to the table, making sure to put the apple pie right in front of Arthur.

•••

In many ways, time had been kind to you. It had been patient and nurturing, time allowed you a second chance at life.

It had given you the life you had wanted, one full of peace, love and family. Your life was quiet at Beecher’s Hope, filled with no revenge story. Time had dragged out your lesson for many years, but now you were reaping the fruits of your labor.

So now, as you cradle your newborn son, watching Anne and Arthur play in the field, her giggles dancing over the grass. You thank time for being there for you. For giving you what you wanted, for letting you learn to grow. For giving you a family. For returning Arthur to you.

In many ways you were thankful, thankful for the lessons you had learned, thankful for the house you lived in, thankful for the food on your table. Thankful for Mahala, thankful for Lee, thankful for Anne, thankful for Arthur and thankful for your son, Henry Hosea.

A cool breeze swept over the field, causing the grass and flowers to dance in the wind. Anne began to pretend she was a bird and Arthur raced around trying to catch her, both laughing in unison.

You looked down at your newborn son, his eyes closed over his resting face.

“One day I’ll tell you where your name comes from. I’ll tell you all about the life your daddy and I lived. And I’ll tell you about the life I had after that, and I’ll tell you about why I’ll never go back to either. One day I’ll tell you all about it,” You said quietly to your son, a promise to him and time, and no one else.

And in the end there was a man and a woman, and a daughter and a son, living to the world, thankful for every moment they get to spend with each other.

And Mother Nature rejoiced, for the man on the mountain and the woman in the city had found each other.

••• The End •••

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WORK ETHIC AND COMPANIES

Perhaps not everyone can make an equally dramatic mark on the world. The reason people there care about Larry and Sergey is not their wealth but the fact should be: we're going to succeed even without them. But kids are so bad at making things, the only way forward is through doing what you love. And the way most companies make money is by creating wealth, you have to be developed by entrepreneurs. They'd have sacrificed hundreds of thousands of dollars, perhaps millions, just to figure out what the problem is before you can solve it. I think the single biggest problem afflicting large companies is the difficulty of raising money itself can kill you. You don't have to live in a great city. Do not, however, tell A who B is. It seems so convincing when you see the same thing. Whatever the story is in the sciences, true collaboration seems to be so. The second reason investors like you is that you should be richer. And from my friends who are professors I know what impresses them: not merely trying to impress them.

I want to get a job, as if the important thing, why does everyone talk about making money, instead of making a to-do list push you. More often than not we're wrong. Anyone in the arts, things are very different. In painting, for example, the wisdom of the engineer who knows certain structures are less prone to failure than others. Perl. A prototype doesn't have to be extra cautious. The other half, the younger half, will complain that this is old news. All your initial ideas get sucked out immediately, and you can see that people there actually care what paintings look like. Be independent. I'm hopeful things won't always be so awkward. It has always mattered for women, but in the late 90s said the worst thing you can say about something is to criticize its tone, you're not saying it to your boss, but directly to the customers for whom your boss is only a proxy after all, and you're not doing it individually, but along with a small group.

But if enough good ones do, it stops being a self-indulgent choice, like buying expensive office furniture. Together they were able to withstand the local feudal lord. It is that you're 30 times as productive, and get paid for it. What matters in Silicon Valley in the late 90s said the worst thing about living there was the low quality of the eavesdropping. Food has been transformed from something that seemed totally normal into a rather seedy habit: from something movie stars did in publicity shots to something small huddles of addicts do outside the doors of office buildings. In an opera it's common for counterarguments to be aimed at something slightly different from what the original author said: when you program, you spend more time reading code than writing it. But patents may not provide much protection. They were effectively a component supplier.

Here, as so often, the best defense is a good offense. For the next year or so, if anyone expressed the slightest curiosity about Viaweb we would try to sell them the company. A startup with a couple founders in their early twenties can have expenses so low that they could be profitable on as little as $2000 per month. And during the Renaissance, journeymen from northern Europe were often employed to do the best they can, by the standards of the desktop world. When things go well you can take risks; when things are bad you want to be canaries in the coal mine of each new addiction—the people whose sad example becomes a lesson to future generations—we'll have to figure out the right thing to do. And to be both good and novel, an idea probably has to seem bad to most people, or someone else describes you, it tends to obscure the underlying reality. You can't make the pie larger, say politicians. But that world ended a few years before by a big, fat, bully. Perhaps, if design and research converge, the best research is also good design, and in which performance is therefore unbounded. Then I asked what was the maximum percentage of the acquisition price they'd trade for it. Advising people and writing are fundamentally different types of problems—wisdom to human problems as well as you can be wise without being very wise, you can at least avoid being surprised.

And if the author is correct or not. The difference is that wise means one has a lot of people: that you could actually make the finished work from the prototype.1 These forces are always at work to some degree in fundraising, and they can cause surprising situations. The Bay Area has a lot of other people's. Some errands, like replying to letters, go away if you ignore them because they look wrong. Otherwise as soon as the first one is ready to buy. Why is that so? For example, consider the case of Viaweb, the simple solution was to make the software run on the server. Apparently only recommendations really matter at the best schools. But people are not simply wise in proportion to the amount they invest. People whose work is to invent or discover things are in the same way that someone might design a building or a chair that's horribly uncomfortable to sit in, then you've done a bad job, period.2

Notes

One measure of the companies that get killed by overspending might have infected ten percent of them. One father told me: One year at Startup School David Heinemeier Hansson encouraged programmers who wanted to have the least VC-like. There need to fix.

I find myself asking founders Would you use in representing physical things. But which of them agreed with everything in exactly the point of failure would be investors who rejected you did that they'd really be a great deal of competition for the board to give you term sheets.

[thedirtpreferences]

Preference #8 - Marriage Proposal

Vince: Everything was unmistakingly perfect. The sky that had originally been a beautiful blue, was now colored with brilliant variations of pink, purple, red, and orange. The sun in the sky that had once been yellow and bright, was now a deep and enriching red. The water that stretched on for miles and miles reflected the image of breathtaking sky, yet was still capable of holding its own point of beauty. You had always heard that a beach sunset was different than other sunsets; that they were more enchanting, more awe-inspiring. Frankly, you had heard wrong. This moment, this experience right now was somehow better than what you had heard. Furthermore, you didn’t think it could get much better. “This is beautiful.” you whispered, digging your toes in the white stand as you took a swig of your beer. “You know what’s even more beautiful?” Vince whispered in your ear as he tightened his arms that were wrapped around your chest. You were currently sitting in between your boyfriends legs, back pressed against the frontside of his body. The combination of the sunset and his arms wrapped around you was reason enough to believe that this was heaven on Earth. “You.” He kissed your ear gingerly, causing you to giggle and shake your head. “You’re cheesy.” You murmured in response, playfully knocking your head back to meet his gaze as you laid your head on his shoulder. “I’m serious. I’m trying to focus on the scenery and how fortunate I am that we are on this vacation together, but all I can think about is how lucky I am to be holding the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms.” Vince leaned down, skimming your nose against his as your eyes fell close. When you felt his lips press against yours, you couldn’t help but to smile into the kiss as you felt like the most fortunate girl in the world. You were in love with this man. From every follicle of hair on his head, to the footprints on his feet. Falling in love with him had been the easiest thing you had ever done, and with each passing day you found yourself falling even more in love with him. Breaking you out thought, Vince pulled away from you as he kept his forehead against your own, his breathing ragged. “Marry me, Y/N.” Vince breathed, causing your eyes to fly open as you sat back up, turning around to face him. “I beg your pardon?” You choked as Vince sat straight up to face you, his eyes burning with sincerity. “Marry me, Y/N. I am so in love with you, you have turned my world upside down for the better; you have made me the man that I want to be. Be my wife,” Digging into his pocket, Vince pulled out a box and flipped it open displaying a beautiful diamond ring. You were gobsmacked, astounded. In fact, it took you an entire second to fully react to what was happening. Once you did, however, you were bounding into Vince’s chest with all the force you could possibly muster. Luckily, Vince had anticipated this and had managed to shut the box close before the ring fell out in the sand. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” You cried as Vince flipped you over onto your back, climbing on top of you with the biggest smile you had ever seen. “Thank you,” Were his last words before his lips met yours, kissing you passionately.

-

Nikki: “Last box!” You shouted through your new, not-so-vacant house. For the past eight hours, you and Nikki had been moving your things into your brand new home. This was the first big investment you two had made together and where you were really nervous, things had never felt so right. Furthermore, even though this decision was very big and very serious, you knew that this was a step in the right direction; you could feel in your soul that Nikki was your forever person. “When you get done doing that, come help me out in the kitchen!” You heard Nikki shout, rolling your eyes in response. You were bewildered on what your boyfriend could possibly need as you were carrying the last box in your arms. You were hopeful that he wasn’t wanting to start any new renovations tonight due to the fact that you were utterly exhausted. Setting the box down in your new master bedroom, you cringed when you saw your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was chaotic, the bags under your eyes evident. Your clothes were baggy and covered in sweat. You appeared to be on your last leg and truthfully you looked it. If you didn’t love your boyfriend so much, you would have ditched him in a heartbeat to collapse on the bed behind you. Fighting the urge, however, you exited the room and began to make your way to the kitchen. “Nikki.” You gasped when you got there, shocked by the sight. The room was glowing, dozens of candles scattered around. There were two glasses of red wine sitting on the island in the heart of the kitchen, a bottle of wine placed behind it. Your boyfriend was wearing a black, silk button up that exposed his chest along with a pair of black slacks and shiny patent shoes. Needless to say, you were breathless from the sight. “What is all this?” You whispered, suddenly insecure about how you looked as Nikki walked towards you. “The rest of our lives,” He murmured, taking your hands in his when he approached you. “Today we moved in together, but that isn’t enough for me.” He shook his head, pausing a moment to gather himself. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you, you have been the center of my whole entire world. From the moment I wake up, you are on my mind. From the moment I go to bed you are still on my mind. You are the kindest, warmest, most compassionate person I have ever met. And since the very first time we toured this house, all I have been able to think about is the life we have in front of us and how I want to grow old and gray with you here.” Your heart was pounding at a worrisome speed when Nikk lowered himself onto one knee, holding your hand in his as his other hand reached into his pocket to pull out a black velvet box. “Will you do me the honor of growing old with me? Will you marry me, Y/N?” You were near the point of hysteria as the tears poured happily down your cheeks, a small ‘yes’ leaving your mouth as you nodded your head violently. Once Nikki slipped the ring onto your finger, he stood back up and kissed you more passionately than he ever had before knowing that you were his for the rest of eternity.

-

Mick: “I fucking love Christmas.” You murmured to Mick, unable to conceal the overall content you had for your current situation. You were currently at your childhood home, a fire in the fireplace crackling in front of you as you listened to old christmas vinyls on your record player. Your family had went to bed over an hour ago, leaving just you and Mick alone in the living room to spend some quality time together. Where you loved your family and grasped that Christmas was one of those holidays meant for family time, you were also appreciative for the alone time you were currently having with Mick. Furthermore, all you had ever wanted was to spend the holidays with your significant other. Not to mention, it was nice to be having a drink after a long day of festivities with the family. “I know.” Mick fought back the smile that creeped to his lips when you narrowed your eyes at him, taking a swig out of the wine bottle. “Don’t pretend that you don’t love Christmas, Mars.” You accused, pointing your index finger at him accusingly. “I don’t, but I do love seeing how happy it makes you.” Bringing the wine bottle to his own lips, you smiled at his answer as he tipped the wine bottle back taking a swig himself. It were the moments like these that made your heart swell with adoration; furthermore, even though Mick wasn’t always the most vocal with telling you how much he loved you, every once in awhile he would hit you with loving comments like right now. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but a large percentage of you knew he wouldn’t say things like that if he didn’t mean it. “Speaking of making me happy, it’s Christmas Eve which means we both get to open one present from one another.” Clapping your hands together, you stood from your spot on the floor, wobbling as you clobbered over to the Christmas tree. “Is that even a thing?” Mick asked incredulously, sitting up as anxiety began to dance across his face. “Have you been living under a rock all these years? Of course, it’s a thing! It’s a stinking tradition,” You smiled as he you handed him a small box, laughing at the discomfort that was very obviously displayed on his face. “What if I only bought you one thing?” Mick inquired, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Means I get to open it now,” you chirped unphased, encouraging him to give you the gift with ‘grabby’ hands. For a second, Mick paused holding your gaze hesitantly before standing up to face you. You had fully expected him to grab the gift from under the tree, which is why when he dropped to one knee in front of you, your eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. What was he doing? “I was going to do this tomorrow at dinner, y’know when your family was around to see. But I’m almost relieved that this is happening now; it’s better this way.” Reaching into his back pocket, Mick pulled out a velvet box staring up at you bashfully as he popped it open, revealing a beautiful diamond ring. You nearly collapsed from the shock. “Being here at your childhood home, surrounded by fundamental memories that have made you who you are today has made me realize how important it is for us to start building our own memories and life together. In fact, I can’t stop thinking about the traditions we will carry throughout the years and will eventually pass down to our own children. Y/N, you are the person I want to grow old with; the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You have my undying love and affection, my heart has been yours from the moment we met. Will you marry me?” Your gasp caught in the back of your throat, obstructing the words that fought to come out; all you could do was nod feverishly and aggressively as you leaned down to kiss him with all the passion you could possibly muster. And Mick thought you loved Christmas before.

-

Tommy: Anything and everything that could possibly go wrong was happening and Tommy was in complete and total disbelief. He had been planning and prepping for this day for weeks, months. Moreover, he wanted to create a moment that the both of you would never forget. Little was he aware, however, that the night was going to me memorable for the wrong reasons. Furthermore, the night commenced with a five hour wait for the most prestigious restaurant in town. Tommy had been so concerned with the smaller details, he had completely forgot to make the reservations in the first place which resulted in the long wait. Even though Tommy had been insistent on waiting for the dinner, you had not. As a result, you both had ended up leaving and driving around for an hour before finally deciding on a run down diner just a block or two away from your home. You both had thought the night would get better once you got some food in you which is why you decided on a restaurant that was so basic, but it simply just got worse from that point on. When the waitress had brought out your drinks, she had lost balance and accidentally poured the tray of drinks all over the front of your brand new red dress. Even though you were understanding, you couldn’t hide the disappointment for the stained dress and the fact that you had to eat your dinner soggy and cold. But even then you were further disappointed as the food came out cold, and flavorless; even Tommy’s burger came out pink in the middle. It took over an hour to get your check, and once you got it, it was for the wrong table so it took an additional ten minutes to get the mixup straightened out. When you finally left, you both eagerly sprinted to the car to avoid the rain only to find out that the keys were locked inside the car and you were stuck outside. This led you to now: cold, wet, uncomfortable, standing under a park gazebo with Tommy in the midst of an outrageous thunderstorm, waiting for the police to come get the keys out of the car. “Well, this didn’t go as planned.” You joked playfully, laughing when Tommy met your gaze exhaling heavily as he shook his head. “You have no idea.” Tommy muttered as you sauntered towards him, shrugging your shoulders as you threw your hands up. “Hey, it could be worse. At least we’re together,” You smiled wrapping your arms around him, reaching on your tiptoes to kiss the tip of his chin sweetly. You always had a way of seeing the brighter side of things, and that was one of the many things Tommy loved about you: you always seemed to ground him. Even in a bad situation, you somehow were capable of seeing the brighter side of things. Suddenly the box in his pocket was becoming too heavy to ignore as he remembered that this was one of the many reasons why he wanted you to be his wife. Who really cared if it was a bad date? This decision was based long before this night.. “I wanted tonight to be perfect. I wanted to give you a beautiful restaurant with exceptional service, fantastic food, and a complimentary red wine to wash it all down with. I wanted to give you a romantic night you would never forget, a night that would make you feel as enriched as you make me feel every single day I wake up next to you. But I realize now, that none of that matters; all that matters is this, us.” Dropping to one knee, Tommy took your hand in his as he pulled the velvet box from his pocket. You couldn’t help but to suck in a heavy gasp at the sight. “I promise to love you even when things don’t work out, I promise to love you through the rain and the storms. I promise to make you the happiest person on Earth no matter what the circumstances are and to never stop loving you. Will you marry me, Y/N?” The word ‘YES’ left your mouth before you even had time to register what was happening, and suddenly the ring was being slid onto your inger.

[evilrubberducke]

Sweeter than Candy

I got the idea of Izuku and Mina cuddling while watching a movie marathon, and thus this fic was born. Expect plenty of tooth aching fluff, as the name would imply. Hope you enjoy!

Summary:  Mina worked hard in the lead-up to midterm exams. Now, with the exams concluded, it's time to celebrate, and what better way to do that than with an all day movie marathon with her boyfriend?

Read it on AO3!

“This seems like overkill” Izuku said as he watched Mina add another handful of snacks to the already enormous pile.

In truth, it probably was too much. Izuku stuck to his diet pretty religiously, and she wouldn’t be able to eat all of these on her own. That wasn’t the point though. Today was about indulgence, and she was going to splurge

“Nah.” Mina responded. “Overkill would be having to spend every waking minute not already devoted to hero training to studying math. Can you imagine? That would just be the worst.” As she spoke, her voice became more and more deadpan.

Izuku looked concerned by her tone of voice and stepped over to give her a comforting hug. It was unnecessary, but Mina enjoyed it nonetheless. She hadn’t done any testing, but she would be willing to bet good money that Izuku gave the best hugs in the class. He had a way of completely wrapping you in his warm arms that was just amazing.

“It was worth it though, right?” Izuku said softly into her ear.

“Yeah...” It had been, but that didn’t mean Mina wasn’t allowed to be salty about it.

Exam season was always a trying time at any school, but that went double for UA. As future heroes they were expected to maintain satisfactory grades while keeping up with their regular training, and preparing for whatever ridiculous practical exam their teachers had managed to concoct.

In addition to all that, Mina had had a personal goal. She was tired of being one of the only failing students in her class. Even Mineta was pulling better grades than her for god's sake!

So, she had given up a huge chunk of her personal time to prepare. She’d missed the season finale of her favorite reality show, she hadn’t gone to an arcade in weeks, and she had even sworn off pranks in the lead up to the exams.

She’d spent hours under Yaomomo’s careful tutelage, and even more time studying with Izuku after school every day as she tried to cram increasingly arcane formulas and facts into her poor brain. It had been a slow, horrifically boring process, but she had put her all into it. She’d even tried sleeping with her textbook under her pillow, in the hope that she would somehow absorb some knowledge by osmosis, a subject she now vaguely understood thanks to her wonderfully patient tutors.

When the exam had finally rolled around, Mina had felt more nervous about it than she had ever felt for a test before. Her mind had been horrifyingly blank, like all the knowledge she’d scraped together had fled in a fit of pique.

Then, almost miraculously, she’d known the answer to the first question. And the one after that as well. As she’d gotten further in, she'd started to feel more and more confident. Sure, she wasn’t getting every question, but most of the ones she didn’t know could be narrowed down to just two possible answers. It had felt good, like she was catching up to everyone else, instead of being left behind like always.

When Aizawa finally called time she had collapsed, happy but totally drained.

She had thought that the lead up to the exam would be the worst, but the aftermath was much more intense. Instead of being able to completely relax once she was done, like she had previously, Mina was left with a vague sense of anxiety about her performance that left her repeating the questions she already knew she had gotten wrong over and over in her head, trying to puzzle them out and failing miserably.

<I wonder if this is what Izuku feels like all the time> She had thought to herself  <If so, I owe him a big apology for every time I joked about how anxious he was.>

Aizawa, at least, was prompt with his grading. They had their tests graded on their desks by the end of the day.

Mina had slowly flipped her paper over, wanting to put off seeing the grade for as long as possible. Then shrieked with delight when she saw the big B- in the corner. Sure, it was far from the highest grade in the class, or even the highest grade she had gotten in her life, but it was the highest grade she had gotten since coming to UA, and that was an accomplishment in its own right.

And an achievement like that deserved a celebration!

Thus, she had assembled a small mountain of snacks ranging from chips to chocolate to sodas of several varieties. She had also put together a leaning tower of movies from all sorts of different genres. Feel good romance movies made up a significant percentage of the stack. They would be great for setting a lovely mood for her and Izuku. And a nice palate cleanser after the classic horror triple feature she had planned midway through the day.

Lastly, she had borrowed every spare pillow that she could find in the dorms and arranged them into a fortress for her and Izuku to snuggle in while they binged.

In short, Maestro Mina had concocted the perfect day for destressing, and she was going to milk it for all it was worth.

She might have overestimated the amount of snacks they would need, but she had definitely underestimated the amount of tissues Izuku would go through. He was midway through the first box before the first movie had even ended.

“Sorry” He sniffled, dabbing at his eyes once more. “It’s just ...they were so in love, and then ...it was just so sad!” He broke into a fresh round of sobs at the thought.

They had started off the night with a classic animated movie about a man who flew his house away on an adventure with an astounding number of balloons. Mina was fairly certain that such a feat was impossible unless he was distantly related to Uraraka, but she wasn’t going to criticise since it made for a pretty awesome visual.

She wrapped her arms around Izuku, pulling him into a comforting hug as she patted his head. It was sweet that he was such a softie, and that he felt comfortable enough around her that he didn't feel the need to hide it. It made her feel special.

Although, they were definitely going to need more tissues if things went according to plan. This wasn’t even close to the biggest tearjerker she had planned for their marathon.

Mina could feel Izuku nodding off beside her, head dipping slightly as he struggled against the sandman. She didn’t blame him. Lunch had been both tasty and super filling, which meant it was threatening to drag her off to dreamland as well. As pleasant as it would be to take a nap right then and there in Izuku’s arms, Mina had other plans.

Days like this didn’t come often, and that meant she had to enjoy every second of it.

Instead, she stood up and stretched. Izuku shook a bit of the drowsiness from his face and looked at her curiously. She merely smiled innocently at him as she made her way to the TV.

Izuku was a little bit too trusting sometimes. He wanted to think the best of people, and that let them take advantage of him from time to time. Mina didn’t abuse that trust, that would be immoral, but she did occasionally take advantage of it to make Izuku’s life just a little more interesting.

Her plan for today involved introducing him to a classic in B movie horror that was sure to get his blood pumping and wake him right up. It was time for the horror block to begin!

Mina silently cackled to herself as she slid the movie in.

Izuku obviously knew that something was up with her. After nearly a year together, they were both getting better at reading the other’s body language, and he had gotten adept at recognizing her ‘I’m having fun pranking someone’ smile as a survival mechanism.

It took him right up until the title ‘Night of Screams 2: The Revenge of Screamtopia’ to realize what she was planning, and by that point, it was far too late.

Quick as a whip, she snaked her legs through his, tangling them together and preventing him from getting up unless she let him.

“Minaaaaaa!” He cried as he clawed at the floor. She did notice, however, that despite being much stronger than her, he made no real attempt to get free.

“Shush you. I told you the quadratic formula was terrifying, and you made me memorize it anyway. Consider this my vengeance!” She put on her best evil villainess face as she spoke. The effect was ruined by the smile she couldn’t keep off her lips, but she felt it was important to make the effort all the same.

He moaned inarticulately in response as the opening credits began to play.

Mina hummed in response, and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend once again. “Tell you what, if you get scared, you can snuggle up to me and I’ll make it all better, ok?”

It took a moment, but she finally heard a muffled “Kay” from below her.

She smiled in triumph. It had taken a lot of effort to get here, but it really was good to be the Queen.

“You doing ok back there Izuku?” Mina asked.

No response came, though Izuku clutched more tightly to her back as a shriek rang out from the TV. Another innocent down as the monster continued it’s furious rampage. It was over the top, and for a horror buff like Mina, it was nothing she hadn’t seen a thousand times before.

Izuku, however, was having a much tougher time of it. It was kind of funny. They had faced terrifying villains like Shiguraki and his Nomu, and Izuku had barely flinched. She’d even heard from Uraraka that he’d stayed calm when Shigaraki had him by the neck during the incident at the Kiyashi mall incident, trying to prevent anyone from getting hurt in the crossfire. And now, here he was cowering from some cheap blood and jump scares.

As he flinched again, Mina relented. She had planned a trio of films for the day, and while she was enjoying having Izuku clinging to her, it was obvious Izuku wasn’t having nearly as good of a time as she was.

A comedy then. One that would get him flashing that smile she loved so much once again.

Just ...in a minute or two. She really loved the part coming up, and after all, it wasn’t like Izuku would keel over from just a little more gore, would he…?

“Mina, I’m not sure how good an idea this is” Izuku said hesitantly. “There’s a real choking hazard.”

“Pfffft! My big brother and I used to do this with jawbreakers all the time, and we’re both fine! Now, hit me with your best shot!” Mina called, tilting her head back once more.

She was sitting at the foot of her bed, while Izuku was at the top, holding a bag of candy in one hand and wearing a worried expression.

Finally, at her continued insistence that she would be fine, he tossed one of the candies lightly toward her. It wasn’t a great throw, and Mina had to lunge to the side, but she managed to catch the candy in her mouth. She swallowed it quickly, then grinned at Izuku in triumph.

He smiled back at her, the look of nervousness fading somewhat in the face of her victory.

“Toldja I could do it!” She proclaimed. “I’m the candy catch master! It was part of how I trained my reflexes for UA. Now why don’t you give me a real challenge?” She winked as she said it. Technically, the line about it being reflex training was BS, but it sounded almost reasonable enough to be true, so Mina stuck with it.

Shaking his head, Izuku readied another candy to throw. They were a brand of chocolate coated berries that Mina found absolutely delicious. In fact, she was having such a hard time not scarfing the whole bag that she had proposed the game as a way to slow down her consumption rate.

Izuku’s next throw went wide again, but this time Mina wasn’t able to catch it with her lips. Instead it came plummeting directly into her right eye.

She flinched, the offending candy bouncing to the floor as she reached up to rub at her eye, trying to work the irritation out manually.

“Are you okay?” Izuku said, rushing to her side. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!” he said, taking her head gently in his hands and peering into her eye, checking for damage.

“I’m fine Midori.” She said, chuckling slightly at his response despite the minor pain she was feeling. At this point, she was more than used to enduring small pains thanks to all their hero training. There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t pick up some minor scrape or cut. Sure, the accidental eye attack had stung, but the irritation was already fading.

Izuku seemed satisfied that he hadn’t accidentally put her eye out. He sighed in relief, but he kept his hands on the sides of her head, and his eyes stayed locked on hers.

“Midori?” She asked, as the moment of silence dragged on. “You okay in there?”

He smiled softly at that, and let go of her head, turning his face slightly away from hers as he did so. “Sorry. I just…” He turned his face back to hers, and she could see that his cheeks were dusted with red. “I always forget how pretty your eyes are, so when I see them up close like that, I get distracted.” He idly poked the tips of his index fingers together as he spoke.

Now it was Mina’s turn to blush, a brilliant lilac filling her cheeks as her heart started to beat faster. <Being that cute has to be illegal>

She pulled Izuku into a tight hug and planted a firm kiss on his cheek, which caused him to light up like a christmas tree, just like he did every time she kissed him. It was another one of his cute habits that she had picked up on rather quickly after they had started dating. He reacted to every bit of affection like it was the first time he had received it.

It did make her a bit sad, thinking about how lonely he must have been growing up, if that was the way he reacted. He’d told her a bit about his childhood, how he hadn’t had any friends since his Quirk had come in so late and they had thought he was Quirkless.

Instead of letting the sadness overwhelm her, Mina took the opposite approach. She hugged Izuku even tighter, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes, and his ears until he was giggling at her to stop. She’d make up for the lack of affection, or her name wasn’t Mina Ashido, girlfriend extraordinaire.

Izuku looked down at Mina’s gently snoring form. She had passed out a few minutes ago, exhaustion finally overtaking the ludicrous amount of sugar and caffeine she had been inhaling all day.

When Mina Ashido partied, she didn’t do it half way.

Smiling, he pulled the blankets up over her shoulders, tucking her comfortably into bed. The pair had changed into pajamas as the day had worn into evening, so there was no need to worry about mussing her clothes.

She sighed contentedly in her sleep, shifting slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

As he leaned down to plant a good night kiss on her forehead, he could hear her mutter something in her sleep.

“Wanna go in the haunted house next…” She whined softly.

He could only chuckle at that. One of their first dates, before they had officially become boyfriend and girlfriend, had been to Universal Studios Japan. They had been more than a little nervous going in, given their previous experience at  a similarly named location.

However, it had turned out excellently. They had both had tons of fun, going on all kinds of rides until they had felt slightly nauseous, checking out the scenery, and buying overpriced gag gifts for their friends and classmates. It had even ended with them sharing their first properly romantic hug, just before they returned to the dorms.

Knowing that she was dreaming about being on a date with him, despite spending nearly the entire day with him made his chest feel warm and full.

He leaned in the rest of the way, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

She sighed in contentment and snuggled deeper into her pillows.

<How did I get so lucky?> He thought to himself as he flicked off the lights.

Just before the door clicked shut behind him, he whispered something that even Jirou would have had trouble hearing from across the room.

“Good night Mina. I love you with all my heart…”

With that, he padded off to his own room, excited to spend the rest of the day with Mina, in the world of his dreams.

Also available on AO3!

[mythicfictionist]

I haven’t really been able to stop thinking about it since the news broke yesterday about the terrorist attack in Christchurch

I know for a fact I’m not the only one whose first thought was something like ‘but that doesn’t happen here’ or ‘this isn’t the New Zealand I know and love’ but putting more thought into it makes it obvious that’s just objectively untrue

Sure, nothing this violent and hateful has happened in recent memory and its more than fair for people to be horrified and outraged that it has, but at the end of the day, just like any white colonial country, we’ve still bred an environment in which this sort of thing can and eventually will happen

It’s in the seemingly little things, like the fact that, for so many people, the word terrorist calls to mind a Muslim man in a bomb vest or hijacking a plane, rather than an anonymous agent of violence and hate who could have any agenda

It’s the fact that nobody is willing to label an act of terrorism as such unless it’s committed by someone who fits that description - that when a young white man bursts into a church with an assault rifle and slaughters a dozen people, he’s a mentally disturbed, quiet boy, a lone wolf who did well in school and never showed any signs, but when a brown man does the same, it sparks outrage at the supposed inherent violence of Islam and the danger of the spread of refugees

It’s in the smallest details, like the briefest, unconscious side-eye to someone in religious garb, or in letting dinner table microaggressions slide, or in saying nothing when someone you know expresses a dangerous, hateful, but - in their mind - completely innocent opinion slip

And it’s not unique to Muslims either - it’s in the way Pasifika people are stereotyped as thugs or gang members, and in the absurdly high incarceration rates they face as a result of structural societal oppression, or in the undue hatred levied towards Chinese people, especially in Auckland where there’s a high population percentage of Chinese immigrants, solely for wanting to move to a new place and make a home

This may not be the New Zealand we as white people know, but I can guarantee it’s just another step down the line for a lot of others who’ve already experienced plenty of horrible things due to the casual culture of racism we’ve developed here

The thing is, I feel like we can, should, must, and will do better

If people in New Zealand are horrified that this sort of thing has happened, if they’re posting on Facebook with best wishes for the Muslim community in Christchurch, if they’re changing their profile pictures with frames claiming support, then they need to back themselves on that

Change comes from within first, from being introspective and realising our own contributions to this sort of thing, and we need to stop being afraid to confront that

If you catch yourself in a dangerous line of thinking, don’t shy away from the fact that it happened, but instead acknowledge it, and work on it - societally ingrained discrimination doesn’t necessarily go away in a day but the fact of the matter is it has to go away, and pretending it doesn’t exist isn’t going to do that

Then, don’t be afraid to confront it when it arises in others - when your granddad starts going on about the ‘bloody Maoris’ at the dinner table, or when your flatmate starts slinging slurs about Muslims, or when you hear a politician talking about Asian migrants as if they’re a wave of foreign invaders - the biggest reason this culture still exists is because people know they’re not going to be confronted for saying things like this, and so they feel like they can do so in casual company, so our best weapon is to make them feel uncomfortable in doing so

I understand the fear people have about confronting it because I feel the same way - nobody wants to ‘ruin’ the family dinner by telling a family member to stop spouting racist, sexist, homophobic, or Islamophobic bullshit, nobody wants to start an hour long argument with their right-wing flatmate who’s always convinced he’s right and sees the argument as nothing more than a fun debate rather than a horrendous reflection of our society’s comfort with racism - but it’s what we need

Don’t get me wrong, the outpouring of support for the Muslim community gives me a lot of hope, and seeing people stand side by side and help each other is a very good sign, but my biggest fear is that by the end of the month, people will have forgotten all about it and slid back into their ways, without even thinking about it

Too many people didn’t get to see the sun come up this morning, and too many more woke up having lost someone they care about - plenty of them likely moved here hoping to escape such violence, only to have it chase them into a place of worship where they thought they were finally safe. We’re right to be horrified, to be disgusted, and to be afraid - it’s been decades since violence of this caliber has happened in our country. But displays of emotion in the moment aren’t enough - if we really, truly want to make sure this doesn’t happen again, we can’t sit and wait for the next extreme case to feel shocked over - we need to start feeling that shame at the small violences, the ones we as privileged people can’t see. It’s not enough to denounce the major crimes, the symptoms - we need to face the cause.

New Zealand is a beautiful country with so many virtues, but as yesterday’s events prove, we’re not above hatred and white supremacy. And we need to be better.

[vickypoochoices]

Partner In Crime part 8.

Note: The final chapter! There will be an epilogue to follow which will be NSFW because I promised @littlegreenmoo this ages ago but the story took over. Also, can we ignore the text message fail with the different battery percentage. I couldn't be bothered to change it, oopsy! 🙈

MASTERLIST.

Part 7.

Lyla chewed on her lower lip nervously, her body numb, except for the iron tight grip around her forearm, her mother clinging on for dear life as they negotiated the hideously elegant, yet steep staircase. Her head was violently spinning, all of her concentration fixated on just breathing, the simple task proving challenging. Both feet successfully reaching the bottom of the stairs, Lyla sprang backwards as Molly gasped loudly next to her.

“Mum, what’s wrong?”

“The bouquet, we left it upstairs!”

“Oh, okay. I’ll go and get it.” Lyla shrugged, foot poised ready to retrace her steps.

Molly reached out to stop her. “Don’t be silly. We can’t be having you wandering around willy nilly. You’re the bride! You stay put, I’ll be two minutes. Here.” She looped her clutch around Lyla’s wrist before continuing. “If Auntie Fran replies can you tell her to take her seat at the front next to me. There’s been a huge mix up with the seating arrangement but i’ve sorted it now. She was all the way at the back can you believe? Anyway I’m rambling here, what was I doing? Flowers, yes!”

Lyla’s forehead creased in confusion at Molly’s sudden scatty behaviour. “Mum wha...”

“Two minutes sweetie.” Molly’s chin tilted as she looked up at the towering stairs. “Damn stairs. I may be a little longer than two minutes. Hold tight!”

Lyla frowned at the forced smile her mother churned out. What had gotten into her? Her thoughts were pulled away as the feather light clutch vibrated loudly once, then twice before giving a frantic final third vibration as Lyla clumsily prised it open, retrieving Molly’s phone. That had to be Aunt Fran. She was one of these awful texters, the kind that would send one sentence per text, and an additional message designated just for kisses. A touch of a smile ghosted Lyla’s lips as she tapped out a quick response as instructed. Her fingers curled around the phone, one that her father had passed on to Molly once he got bored of it. Her eyes scanned the top of the stairs, looking for any sign of her mother, before she hastily unlocked the phone, opening up her inbox and scrolling down. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t all that much scrolling to be done. Molly’s inbox consisted of messages from Lyla, her father, Aunt Fran, a generic reminder for an appointment of some description, and Zig. Her fingers worked on autopilot, the short thread of texts opened before Lyla had a chance to think about it.

Her fingers frantically tapped out a rushed response, her frustration growing as she realised she had a minute, if not less, to pour her heart out. There was so much she wanted to talk to Zig about. He seemed pretty shocked about the Cherry accusation, had she really got the wrong end of the stick? There was no denying she’d felt empty and alone since leaving their shared apartment, and Lyla knew no matter what she thought had happened, she couldn’t just turn off her feelings like that.

Her eyes darted skywards, the sound of shuffling footsteps startling her, sending Molly’s phone crashing to the ground. SHIT! Did that send? Stooping down to the ground, aware of the footsteps growing louder, Lyla picked the phone up, bringing it up towards her mouth to blow on, before wiping it against her dress. What was that?! Who blows on a phone when they drop it?

“Everything okay love?”

“Yep. Absolutely. Uh huh.” Lyla stuttered, turning on her biggest smile as she stuffed Molly’s phone back into her clutch.

A perplexed look crossed Molly’s face for a second, before she corrected herself, thrusting the large bouquet of Dean’s favourite flowers forward. “Ready then?”

***

Zig bounded down the bustling street, unsure if the worried glances cast his way from on goers was a reaction to seeing a crazed man vaulting over any obstacle in his path, or his choice of attire. A smart black shirt, creased from where it lay crumpled in a heap at the foot of his bed, still heavy with the scent that was unmistakably Lyla’s, the sole reason he hadn’t washed it yet. Paired with grey sweatpants and a thick pair of socks but a distinct lack of shoes. No time for shoes. It was the no shoe thing that was creeping people out right? Zig didn’t care, he was wearing the first thing that came to hand because he was now on borrowed time. He almost collided with the glass door in his haste to reach the hotel he was 99 percent certain Cherry had mentioned. Once. Accidentally. Fuck Zig, what are you doing? After successfully negotiating the entrance, Zig braced himself against the reception desk, heart thrashing against his chest, his breath coming out as a strained wheeze.

“Can I help you?” A petite, bored looking brunette queried as she stood, peering over the side of the desk where Zig was now crouched, head thrust between his legs as he worked on steadying his breathing.

“Cherry...Cherry...What room number?”

The receptionist sat back down in her chair, making no attempts to hide the distain on her face, clearing her throat once.

“Sorry. I can’t give out details of our guests.”

“You don’t understand.” Zig inched upwards, slowly staggering to his feet, his sweaty hands slapping palm down on the desk to steady himself. “Please, hear me out.”

“Eurgh don’t touch that! I can’t give you any information on her because she isn’t a guest here any longer. She checked out half an hour ago.”

“How do I know you aren’t just saying that to get rid of me?”

“Oh please. A name like that? I’m hardly likely to forget her am I. Now can I kindly ask you to leave?”

Zig grumbled to himself as he left the hotel. The same word over and over again. “Shit.”

***

“It’s okay to be nervous sweetie. Don’t worry, I’m right here beside you.”

Lyla managed a weak smile, her hand still continually squeezing her fathers, as she looked over his features. Flecks of grey glinted as rays of sunshine highlighted them through his dark head of hair. His tired eyes, heavy lidded yet full of warmth, his thin lips smiling in adoration at her as he stood in his smart suit that Dean had picked out for him. He looked every bit the doting Dad, the fierce love visible for all to see. This man, who’s life would come crashing down, who’s life would be destroyed if she didn’t go through with this. No matter the consequences for herself, Lyla couldn’t stand to put him through that.

“Ready?” He questioned, looping his arm around hers.

“Ready.” She nodded, eyes pricking with tears as the doors peeled backwards.

Her throat constricted, the ability to swallow lost to her as she nervously glanced at all the heads, promptly swivelling in her direction. Her face melted into a smile as she picked out the familiar faces of her family members, all seated in the back two rows. Feet gliding down the aisle, Lyla lost herself for a moment, passing dozens of smiling faces, all unknown to her. In a sea of strangers, Lyla picked out just one she recognised. All other emotions ceased to exist for the briefest of moments, hope prevailing. Aaron winked at her, an encouraging smile fixed into place as he caught her eye. And then her heart plummeted, as Lyla realised Aaron was surrounded by strangers. He was alone. Zig wasn’t here. What did you expect Lyla? Too little, too late! Disappointment flooded through her, all traces of hope washed away. The text didn’t send! She’d told him to stay away, that he wasn’t wanted here, and that’s exactly what he’d done.

Lyla’s steps faltered as they neared the end of the aisle, her fathers strong and confident stride carrying them both the remainder of the way. On one side, Molly stood, a tissue balled up in one hand at the ready, and a supportive arm around a hunched up figure sat down next to where she stood, a shawl draped around their head. Aunt Fran really is ancient!

She could feel the cold stare accessing her long before her eyes begrudgingly met his. His dark eyes fixed on her, completely emotionless. A fake smile that only Lyla could see through, plastered all over his face. She’d run out of aisle, and out of time, there was no where left to run now.

“I would like to thank you all for being here today on behalf of Lyla and Dean. They’ve invited you here to share in this experience, and to share their undying love for each other with you all.”

A hushed whisper fell over the room as people settled down into their seats.

“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

Lyla’s Dad stepped forward proudly, both hands clasping hers tightly as she remained a pace behind him, head downcast. “I do.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, before taking the empty seat next to Molly in the front row. Lyla remained rooted to the spot, the distance between Bride and Groom painfully evident, her feet refusing to cooperate. Dean’s however, were more than happy to close the gap, reaching for her hand and interlocking their fingers, squeezing tightly. Too tightly.

“And now I ask that if anyone present today knows of any impediment why these two may not be lawfully joined in matrimony may they speak now, or forever hold their peace.”

A heavy silence fell upon the room. Lyla glanced behind her, catching sight of the guests giggling nervously and shifting restlessly.

A small chuckle echoed in the otherwise silent room, cutting the tense atmosphere short. “It doesn’t matter how many times I say that, it always sets me on edge. Come now, shall we continue? I believe this is the part we’ve all been waiting for!”

“WAIT!” Lyla instinctively turned to the back of the room. That’s how it always happened in the movies right? Her one true love was meant to burst in through the doors and stop the wedding. Deep indentation lines settled on Lyla’s forehead as she frowned in confusion, the back doors remained firmly shut with no Zig in sight.

“I won’t let this wedding take place!”

Lyla’s attention moved to her left, a voice continuing from the front row. Her eyebrows knitted together tightly, her mouth falling open but failing to find any words.

“Come now Molly, there must be some mistake.” Lyla stiffened at the sound of Dean’s forced laughter, and the sight of him stepping towards her mother. She matched his step, glaring at him with a sudden rush of confidence as adrenalin surged through her, uncomfortable with him closing in on Molly.

Molly’s voice came back loud and clear, strong and steady. She wasn’t afraid of Dean, and she wouldn’t be intimidated by him. “There’s no mistake. My daughter will not be marrying you.”

“I’m sorry Molly but it looks like she will. She’s stood next to me in a wedding dress, wearing my ring, about to take my surname. I’d say it’s pretty obvious Lyla is all set to get married. Although you’ve certainly spoilt her big day now.” A light pink flush crept up Dean’s neck, the veins there straining against his skin as he struggled to reign in his temper, trying to keep up the pretence.

“I’m saving her actually.”

A loud, unattractive snort came from Dean, his eyes shining in the sunlight, a silent challenge for Molly to try her luck against him. “Is that so? Why don’t you enlighten us all then?”

Molly took a step forward, refusing to flounder at his command. “I have quite a few concerns about you marrying Lyla that I could happily voice right now. But for now I’ll keep it to a minimum. Even if this wedding does somehow go ahead, it won’t be legal. Because Dean has previously been married. And is in fact still married.”

“That’s absurd.” Dean scoffed, eyes roving over the faces of the guests whilst he tugged at his collar once, before catching his display of guilt, hands quickly falling against his sides.

“Give it up Dean, Zigmund has told me everything.”

Dean’s lips curled upwards into a sneer at the mention of Zig’s name. “Zigmund. That jealous fool! It all makes sense now. Can’t you see Molly? He’s made this all up in the hopes of finally having Lyla to himself.”

Dean’s words ran over and over in Lyla’s head, a sudden bout of queasiness overcoming her as Dean continued to smear Zig’s name, until her mouth took over. “Zig wouldn’t make something up like that.”

Dean reached for Lyla’s hand, forcing a smile onto his face. “Darling, there’s no need to defend him now.”

As his fingers curled around her wrist, Lyla shook her head adamantly. “No. I know Zig. He’s...” Her words cut off as she stopped to catch a breath, a sharp wave of pain coursing through her as Dean’s nails dug into the soft skin of her wrist.

Dipping his head to her level, Dean lowered his voice, his words intended for Lyla alone. “I suggest you stop. Now.”

“And I suggest you take your hands off of her. Now.”

Lyla’s whole body tingled in response to his voice, her head still bowed, staring at the deep crescent shaped grooves now embedded in her skin as Dean reluctantly loosened his grip.

A firm fingertip tucked under her chin, gently urging her to look up. Fresh tears threatened to fall as she complied, everything seeming to melt away as she lost herself in a pair of dark brown eyes full of anger, warmth, sympathy and love.

“Lyla.” His voice was a breathy whisper, pulling her flush against his chest, chin resting on the top of her head.

“Zig...” Her bottom lip trembled, her whole body sagging against his weakly.

As they pulled apart, Zig placed a hand on either side of Lyla’s shoulders, lowering down to her level, his eyes fiercely searching hers. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.” She managed to choke out, a stray tear slipping down her face. Zig smiled back at her, gently chasing the tear away with his thumb before turning on the spot, attention fixed on Dean. They locked eyes, Dean taking a step forward, Zig placing himself protectively in front of Lyla, his eyes refusing to leave Dean’s, neither backing down.

“Ahh Zigmund, I should have expected nothing less from you really. Congratulations on making a huge scene. Come on then, out with the ridiculous allegations.”

His thumb soothingly stroked continuous comforting circles around Lyla’s as he took a calming breath, readying himself to speak. Until Molly’s voice stopped him.

“Zigmund told me all about your wife the other night, and I took the liberty of contacting her myself.”

“This should be good.” Dean made a show of rolling his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest as Molly continued.

“I know everything about you. I know what a vile man you really are. You will never be good enough for my daughter and I will not let you marry her. And if you think you can blackmail my family like I’m sure you’ve already planned out you can think again. We don’t want your money, We’ve always got by before without it. If it means struggling for the rest of our lives then so be it. As long as Lyla is with someone that makes her happy, and treats her with the respect she deserves then it will all be worth it.” Molly exhaled loudly, straightening her back and nodding resolutely as she finished her speech.

“Well that’s certainly eye opening Molly, but I’m still yet to see any proof.”

“Obviously when you have money it’s easy to tidy things up and make things disappear. I can’t find a record of your marriage anywhere.” Molly mumbled, eyes averting from Dean’s hard stare, a hint of pink rising to her cheeks.

Dean’s smile was smug, his eyes lighting up as he struggled to supress the thick gloating tone to his words. “What can I say? I tried to tell you Molly! You can thank young Zigmund here for embarrassing us all in front of everyone today.”

“I can’t find a record of your marriage anywhere online. But then I went to meet your wife.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, the sound of him swallowing hard audible to the whole room. “Ridiculous.” He bit back through clenched teeth, one single word all he could muster.

“What’s the matter Dean darling? Are we getting a little too close for comfort?”

Every head in the room snapped up, eagerly turning to follow the sound of the voice. Aunt Fran hobbled the few paces along from her seat in the front row, shedding her shawl along the way, to reveal a mane of deep red hair, and a young, pretty face. She shook her limbs exaggeratedly for a few seconds as she stood to her full height, the disguise of aunt Fran completely lost now.

The sharp hiss of air from Dean was all the proof Lyla needed to know this was in fact his wife.

“Terry. Kindly escort them all out now.”

Cherry stepped forward, as Terry reluctantly shuffled along.

“Not so fast Tezza!” Cherry side stepped away from Terry, dashing into the crowd of guests, plucking a handful of papers from her pocket and quickly discarding them into the hands of the guests.

“You see the thing is.” Molly continued, straying to Lyla’s exposed side, Zig still gripping her hand on the other. “Cherry here seems to have the only copy in existence of your wedding certificate, with the added bonus of a photo too, which I’m sure these lovely guests here will love looking over.” The sound of paper ruffling as people turned over hastily to catch sight of the photo filled the otherwise silent room. “So we have the proof that you two are in fact married covered, but, try as I might, I struggled to find anything that would suggest you two ever ended this marriage.” Molly casts a look at Dean’s parents, seated in the front row, both furiously blushing and shifting uncomfortably.

“There’s a divorce paper, I swear.”

Molly smirked at the shrill tone of Dean’s voice. “Oh, so now you at least admit to having been married before? Two minutes ago I thought you said that wasn’t true at all. Come on now Dean, which is it?” She tutted, as a thin sheen of sweat glistened on Dean’s forehead, finding himself at a loss for words for the first time ever.

“I...”

“Divorce or not, you’ve lied to Lyla, and that changes everything. How could she possibly go through with a wedding to someone that would lie to her about something as monumental as this?”

“Surely that is entirely Lyla’s decision to make.” He retorted.

The weight of a hundred expectant gazes fell upon Lyla, a shiver running along her spine at the sudden realisation that this was her way out. The one thing she’d been praying for, suddenly handed to her on a plate. Take it!

Her pale skin seemed to glow, and she had to physically restrain herself from gleefully skipping down the aisle without another word. Two words would suffice.

Biting her lip as she sucked in a giddy breath, staring down at her fingers still laced through Zig's, she peered up at him, a mischievous smile spreading quickly. She kicked the ugly, narrow shoes off her feet, smirking as they slid easily along the floor, skidding to a stop directly in front of Dean. Lyla sashayed the brief distance herself, straightening his slackened tie before leaning in close to whisper in his ear. "Goodbye, Dick.”

Catching sight of Dean's balled up fists by his side, and the animal like snarl that followed, Lyla beamed, knowing Dean wasn't stupid enough to attempt anything with all these witnesses around.

Placing a protective hand on Lyla's shoulder as he stood behind her, Zig glared at Dean. He longed to tear a strip off of him, but he'd settle for Lyla's safety and freedom. For now. "I don't think Goodbye Dick is what I was gonna go with." Zig chuckled, eyes never leaving Dean's.

Dean stepped forward, eyes lingering on Lyla's hand as she grabbed Zig's, swinging it back and forth animatedly.

"I could tell you what I was thinking..." Molly smirked, winking at Lyla and Zig, as they made to leave, running off down the aisle hand in hand, giggling like a pair of kids.

Tagging: @zigortega4life @emerald-bijou @littlegreenmoo @krsnlove @choicesthot @sarzkh31

[forest-of-stories]

End-of-year fandom post

Apparently the last time i did this was in 2016?

Your main fandom of the year: Revisiting Tamora Pierce’s Tortall series - especially the creepy subtext between one of the Big Bads and his squire - was an unexpected delight.

Your favorite film this year: I loved Black Panther, but I think The Last Jedi (which I saw on New Year’s Day! It totally counts!) appealed more to my fannish creativity.

Your favorite book this year: I have been telling everybody I know to read The Dreamblood Duology (The Killing Moon and The Shadowed Sun) by N.K. Jemisin (here is the post where I talked about it for the first time).  I also loved - in no particular order - The Belles by Dhonielle Clayton, Ship It by Britta Lundin, and Tamora Pierce’s latest, Tempests & Slaughter.

Your favorite album or song this year: My friend Ray introduced me to MisterWives; I really loved “Hurricane” and “Queens.”  Also, like (i suspect) most of us, I have listened to Janelle Monae’s “Pynk” a non-small number of times.

Your favorite TV show this year: Black Lightning and The Good Place, both of which came out before this year but appeared on my radar much more recently.  I’ve also been loving the rebooted Voltron and She-Ra.

Your favorite tumblr blog this year: I was happy to see @empty-movement, the Tumblr branch of the Revolutionary Girl Utena fansite where I spent a large percentage of my time as a twenty-something fangirl.

Your best new fandom discovery of the year: A lot of the above answers fall under the category of “stuff that I would like to write about even though I haven’t yet.”  Also, everybody who said “Hey Neva, you should watch Legion” was totally right.

Your biggest fandom disappointment of the year: I have some spoilers on the end of Voltron that sound pretty disappointing, though I’m trying to reserve judgment until I’ve seen it play out on screen.

Your TV boyfriend of the year: Takashi Shirogane was my TV Boyfriend, TLJ’s Luke Skywalker was my Movie Boyfriend (haters are gonna hate), and Numair SalmalÍn was my Book Boyfriend.

Your TV girlfriend of the year: Olivia Caliban from A Series of Unfortunate Events is both Life Goals and Wife Goals.

Your biggest squee moment of the year: Spending the day at Fan Expo Boston with @ronchronchronch! <3

Your most missed old fandom: X-Men will always hold a special place in my heart.  I’m still writing fic for it, but I don’t have quite the same fannish community context.  Also, I had a falling-out in 2017 with a friend whom I met in XMFC fandom, and although I take full responsibility for what went wrong, I still frequently miss talking to her.

A fandom you haven´t tried yet, but want to: I’m looking forward to finishing the first season of She-Ra, and I suspect that some of the characters and dynamics will be Relevant To My Interests.

Your biggest fandom anticipation of the New Year: New episodes of Steven Universe, and hopefully a sequel to Tempests & Slaughter! 

[butyouvealwaysbeenthecaretaker]

Rationalism: Pros & Cons

I’ve been toying with both adding “rationalist adjacent” to my Tumblr bio, and attending an IRL meeting – but I’m feeling very two-minded. The pros are so powerful and important – but so are the cons, and I’d venture to say the cons are actually worse.

I think it would be good to come up with a new label for a certain sort of Rationalism. The diaspora is very big, and like many social movements, has a lot of different splinters. I’d like to use a new term for “the bit of the diaspora I like”, because there is so much here I don’t want to be associated with. And so much I do.

I really like what Rationalism means on Tumblr, and how I understand it from participating here. We could call it Handmedown Rationalism, 2nd Generation Rationalism, or maybe there is a term for it that I've not encountered. Maybe the term is "Tumblr Rationalism", although I am not positive that using "Tumblr" as a prefix will communicate kindness and gentility well. "Kelseyan Rationalism", perhaps.

You get a radically different vision of what Rationalism means depending on...

You mostly read EY and Less Wrong

You mostly read r/ssc

You mostly read theunitofcaring

You actually live in San Francisco, and these people are in your social structure, not merely your news feed

It's very important to me to communicate "I believe in a kinder world, and want to be part of making it happen". Rather than "statistically, white people are better, and consent isn't evolutionarily sound" or "The biggest issue of our time is a hypothetical technology's hypothetical behaviour, and if you don't sign your children up for cryogenic freezing you are a lousy parent".

I've been researching and reading for months now, and I don't think I can use the term because there's such an huge iceberg of esoteric ideas below the surface, and too many of them are silly, terrifying or wrong. But I think most people who've encountered Rationalism through Tumblr are in a similar place about what they want to communicate when they say "Rationalist", and what they think "Rationalist" means - or want it to mean.

Is there another word? Can we make one?

Under the cut, long post of my “pros and cons” of adopting the label…

Nice things about Rationalism

1) Discourse norms which make me feel comfortable and supported to participate in discussions. The only people I feel entirely safe around on Tumblr. Both: people I always feel safe commenting on or reblogging, and people who rarely if ever put distressing content or behaviour in my newsfeed. The sorts of complex conversations and big ideas Social Justice promised - but no one is yelling at me or weaponising social shame.

2) Evidence-based reasoning, and a call to be open criticism, change your mind, listen to those you disagree with, and back up your positions.

3) Optimism that we can change the world – much needed, in the face of cynicism and apathy. Beautiful traditions like celebrating the eradiction of smallpox.

4) Social structures offering alternatives to the traditional role of religion: whenever core Rationalist bloggers write about their lives, I am deeply envious. Co-living, people who are united by shared values and vision, social norms favouring neuro-atypical people, etc. I would like this in my life.

5) I really like the idea of stepping away from the “Culture War”, because it generates “much heat but no light”. There’s an important kernel of truth there, about focusing on facts and productive work over clickbait and quick wins.

6) Some of their low-level issues are salient for me. This includes – attempting to have a more generous approach to men as a group, a general fear of Social Justice norms, and a belief in experimental self-care/improvement regimens.

7) I really grok Rationalists. I'm on the same wavelength. They're people I want to spend time with. Rationalism makes people happy and gives them purpose; that's always a good.

I think most tumblr people who use rationalist/rationalist adjacent are primarily communicating 1 & 7. They have discomfort with social justice norms: they want the discussion, politics and tolerance, without the shouting and death threats. And they intuitively see Rationalists and think "ah! my people!"

Unsettling things about Rationalism

Pretty much everything in this category boils down to “it is most rational to act effectively to achieve a stated goal. Too many Rationalist community tropes encourage extremely inefficient approaches.”

1) Missing the wood for the trees. Or focusing so hard on the wood you walk into a tree.

Like: politely playing footsie with fascists. There is such thing as too much civility. It’s good to be open minded and question your assumptions – but life is short. I’m OK with calling scientific racism a settled conversation so we can move on to something more important and productive. Like: a lot of the background noise about women, relationships, and consent. Sometimes things can’t be explained from a pure rational stance, and it’s uncomfortable to watch people try. How comfortable am I being associated with a group which includes Robin Hanson…? His writings about rape are - simply awful.

I do not for one moment wish to be mistaken for a person who agrees with those articles, or believes racism deserves a fair hearing when repackaged to sound sciency.

Every group is like this, right? But it's an odds game. I'm OK with identifying as a feminist, because I know our fringe crazies are safely on the fringe and small in number. With Rationalism...the fringe is putting the best ideas into practice effectively, while the core writings and influential figures are so far out the Overton Window they've actually hit the ground and started walking.

2) There’s nothing more stupid than a man who believes he is very clever.

“My idea is more logical than yours” functions a bit like “I’m more oppressed than you” in Social Justice spaces. If the space holds the value that “the most logical argument is king” or “the most oppressed person is prioritised”, then you don’t actually get rational debate or equality. You get a stick everyone tries to use to get ahead. Too many people presenting themselves as clever, not enough actual humility or uncertainty. When more status is granted for Writing Clever Worldbreaking Things, it encourages overconfident pseudoscience instead of authentic, accurate doubt.  

Also: factoring in emotions, impulsivity, and irrationality is a vital part of getting the right answer when it comes to human beings.

3) Subcultural norm against participating in politics. Political engagement is an important tool for changing the world. It’s not perfect, but it’s what we have – ignoring it is dangerous and daft.

4) Related: subcultural norm for starting from scratch over participating in someone else’s project.

The world is changed by those who do the dishes and take minutes at meetings. Lots of big-scale Rationalist projects attempt to duplicate stuff that already exists, or re-invent the wheel, instead of improving something imperfect and building on work already done. The Libertarian streak encourages this attitude towards government, and the urge to set up parallel agencies and initiatives – instead of working at the grassroots. Which is not glamorous, but it is effective.

5) The wrong goals.

You can change the world at a local level – whether that’s pressuring a local store, supporting local people, writing to councillors, becoming a councillor. Focusing on existential risk is…well, to reuse the phrase, it’s a lot of heat and no light. Masturbation and no money shot. Debates without answers, actions, or measurable outcomes. In short – it’s bad activism. Martin Luther King won by focusing attention on a particular cafeteria protest, a particular bus company.

6) Poor use of power.

Rationalism appeals to some of the smartest and most influential people on the planet – well-paid people in tech, who are ambitious, courageous and motivated. I’m pretty furious and horrified the ideology channels this energy towards AI Risk rather than, say, global warming – something which is definitely happening, hurting people right now, and could absolutely benefit from that passion, innovation, money, and a Libertarian alternative to government dawdling. Tech is – worryingly – powerful in the ways that governments are powerful; if you’ve developed a ideology which connects powerfully with people and makes them believe they can save the world, it’s a crime to then tell them to LARP about with imaginary robots. Like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos farting around with Mars rockets instead of nuking wealth inequality, or setting up top-quality schools in deprived areas, or eliminating HIV, or…

7) Feels like a dodgy pyramid scheme.

“We should pledge to give a percentage of our income in effective ways to change the world” – brilliant! “We define ‘effective altruism’ as ‘AI research done by the founder of our movement’ – even though AI research has minimal impact, and our founder has no credentials.” Hmmm. Also "thank you for donating to our group for teaching Rationalist thinking. We have now decided to change our focus towards the aforementioned AI research. Alas, it's so speculative, don't expect measurable results or accountability for this - just know your money has been well spent, saving the world."

I think it’s very ugly to fill people with beautiful feelings, and then channel them into giving you money.

I think it's unsettling that Rationalism provides community for people who are outsiders, who are disabled, and who have scrupulosity issues - then says "good people in our community donate to our founder. It is the most rational action, and the only way to save the world."

Like, you have a captive audience of people who have - at long last - found their tribe. They're very vulnerable to social pressure which may lead to exclusion from the group. They're motivated by the idea of acting rationally, inspired by purpose you gave them to go out and make a difference - and experience acute distress at thinking they are not doing enough good. Do not. Squeeze these people for money. You asshole.

I don't think it's deliberate - but it's still wrong.

8) I like what the Sequences stand for – but not the Sequences themselves.

Learning how to reason, how the mind works, learning critical thinking, developing flexibility and introspection are all excellent. But I want to learn that from original texts by the best thinkers in the world. That is pretty emphatically not You Know Who.

9) Related: Amateurism.

In theory, I like the idea of teaching individual citizens how to use statistics, analyse scientific papers, how to run experiments, and tailor their own medication etc. In practice, these fields have experts in for a reason. Someone who attempts to use statistics, and does it poorly, is far more dangerous and worse off than someone who does not pretend to know, but trusts a reliable source. Core-Rationalism frequently includes people making definitive statements and presenting themselves as an authority, and being very overconfident about their expertise.

(A lot of this is neurodiverse stuff, right? Setting up your own grandiose project from scratch; being an auto-didact; mistrust of traditional authorities; being very clever etc. I’m too ADHD to function, so I can see where it’s all coming from – but it’s hardly optimised for efficiency or outcomes.)

10) There is no such thing as a safe community, and getting these things right is very difficult.

However, it is discomforting how many people close to the heart of power have credible abuse accusations against them. Also, how one of the key Rationalist organisations responded to an abuse accusation, with an inadequate internal process which concluded everything was fine. They’ve since backtracked. That’s not enough for me, because abuse scandal management reflects your innate understanding, bises, beliefs and background. You can’t backtrack when you realise that it looks bad, because the original misstep continues to reflect your group’s true values.

Also, the wider movement has a lot of beliefs which lay the groundwork for abuse: mistrust of feminism, economic approaches to dating, gender and sex, evolutionary psychology and pseudoscience, key figures arguing that rape is nicer than being cheated on...

11) People who say "I don't like Social Justice", and lowkey mean "I don't like feminism or being nice to transsexuals". Rather than how I mean it: "I don't like being frightened or walking on eggshells, I don't like how rage and shaming are totally OK, I don't like how inflexible and bad faith ideas are, I don't like how I've seen it used in real life as a weapon to gain power and control. I don't like bullies."

We are on the same venn diagram, but not nearly enough of an overlap. (Given the choice between a nasty person who supports my rights, and a kind one who does not, I choose: cutting off contact with humans and never leaving my house again)

12) Rationalism is a mere degree of separation from a lot of online movements and subcultures which are definite problems. The resurgence of polite scientific racism; anti-progressive pushbacks on LGBT rights and feminism; some of the MRA stuff, some of the incel stuff; treating Trump/politics as a dinner party debate rather than an active threat...

Can one promote Rationalism, without accidentally building these movements too...? It feels too close, and wilfully blind.

13) I want what the Rationalists I follow have. When I think about attending the local meetup, I imagine an evening spent with reddit users who think racism is very clever, and use phrases like 'not technically rape". How can I even consider adopting a label when I figure the odds are like...70/30 in favour of the rape Nazis? I do not imagine meeting people I would like to leave my child with. I do not think I will find an IRL mirror of for the cool, compassionate, nerdy people I follow online.

If you even have to ask "what percentage of this group are likely to be rape Nazis?", your have your answer.

[lesbiancouplescounseling]

Does Lesbian Couples Therapy Really Work?

That’s a pretty good question… Does lesbian couples therapy really work?

And the short answer is (drum roll)…

Yes!

But I’d bet my comfy Birkenstocks that the question that keeps circling through your worried brain is more like…

Can lesbian couples therapy save my relationship?

And the answer to that (more relevant) question is…wait for it…

Yes!  If certain important factors are in place.

Don’t worry. Having the key factors in place doesn’t mean that all the stars in the universe have to align just right.

Or that you and your babe have to have all your shit together before you start lesbian marriage counseling.

Or that there’s an endless list of boxes to check before you can get help.

HOW, THEN, DOES LESBIAN COUPLES THERAPY REALLY WORK FOR MY RELATIONSHIP?

Actually, there are only two (count them…one, two) key elements that need to be in place for lesbian couples counseling to both save and vastly improve your relationship.

First, both you and your partner will have to come to the table with an openness to therapy and change.

Second, you’ll need to work with a well qualified couples therapist that specializes in lesbian relationship therapy.

If those two things are in place, I promise you can go from an oh-my-god-my-relationship-is-about-to-fall-apart nightmare to your dream relationship.

Go ahead and let that relief sink in.

And if you want to reach through your screen and give me a virtual Thank You hug, I’ll take it.

Okay. Let’s flesh-out the two factors that lead to an affirmative answer to that question…

HOW DOES LESBIAN COUPLES THERAPY REALLY WORK?

1. SHOW UP TO THERAPY AS A COUPLE THAT’S MOTIVATED FOR CHANGE

I can tell you, after working as a couples counselor with hundreds of couples over the past 2 decades, it’s become crystal clear that the couples who get better, that fall in love again, are the ones that really embrace therapy and change.

One of the biggest mistakes I see couples making when they come to therapy is that they’re each hoping the therapist will get their partner to change. And when you hang onto that fantasy, couples counseling won’t work.

For lesbian couples therapy to work for you, it’s essential that you wrap your head around the fact that you, too, have some changing to do. Not just your partner.

Don’t freak out! I’m not talking about changing who you are as a person. Or even making huge changes that you can’t possibly sustain.

The changes I’m referring to are usually small. And they are always doable.

But…

They require a heaping tablespoon of your very own motivation.

No kidding. If you aren’t willing to fully show up to therapy, dig deep, and tap into your motivation to change a few things…

Well, I hate to even say it, save yourself the money you’d spend on therapy. You’ll probably need it for a divorce lawyer.

That may sound harsh. But I’m just shooting straight. (Or should I say, I’m shooting gayly forward? ;-))

Back to motivation for change.

I’ve got two questions that will help awaken your motivation.

Ask yourself…

What if nothing changes in my relationship?

Take a minute to answer that question honestly.

I wonder, is the pain of nothing changing (which may likely lead to a break-up) greater than the pain of change?

If so, you’ve just tapped into a well of motivation. Haven’t you?

A second question to help amplify your feeling of motivation is this…

How will you benefit from making the changes that are required of you to improve your partnership? And consider how those changes will benefit the other people you love.

So, one of the two big keys to successful couples therapy is to find the motivation within yourself to show up motivated to become more self-aware, to own your own part in the problems, to see yourself and your partner as a team, and to face your growth edge.

2. PICK A TRAINED COUPLES THERAPIST THAT SPECIALIZES IN LESBIAN COUPLES COUNSELING

Here’s the thing…

Not all therapists are equal.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that some therapists are more awesome and valuable human beings than others. That would be a mean thing to say.

I’m not talking about equality in terms of intrinsic human value.

When I say that not all therapists are equal, I’m pointing out that some therapists are much more skilled than others at providing great lesbian couples therapy.

If you’re shopping for a couples counselor to help you and your same-sex partner, there are two important qualifications you’ll want to make sure the therapist has.

First, be sure to find a therapist that is a licensed marriage and family therapist, or that at the very least has had loads of training in couples counseling.

See, most psychotherapists, counselors, and psychologist market themselves as doing all types of therapy including individual and couples therapy.

What most folks don’t realize is that a huge percentage of those people haven’t actually gotten much training in couples counseling.

Yikes!

Most graduate school counseling programs only include one or two marriage therapy courses. The exception is graduate programs in Marriage and Family Therapy (MFT).

MFT programs are chalk full of courses, clinical training, and supervision specifically related to couples therapy.

And let me tell you, individual counseling is a different animal than couples counseling. It’s kind of like the difference between driving a golf-cart and an 18-wheeler.

So when you’re shopping for a therapist to help save your relationship, be sure they’ve had lots of training, supervision, and experience in couples counseling.

That’ll insure the best odds that your couples counselor will have the skills necessary to lead you and your partner from the edge of demise to a place of security and happiness.

The second qualification you’ll want to know your therapist has is a specialization in working with women in same-sex relationships.

This way you’ll be sure the therapist has a deep awareness and sensitivity to sexual minority (lesbian) issues and norms. Please don’t underestimate the importance of that.

It’s not enough for a therapist to say something like “I don’t judge gays. And I have a niece that’s a lesbian.”

In order for you to say yes to the question, does lesbian couples therapy work, your therapist must:

provide a gay affirming environment

understand the pitfalls of their own hetero bias

have a working knowledge of the unique clinical issues that lesbian couples face

And that’s a tall order for a straight therapist. Not impossible. But not something that simply appears magically.

Just last week I got a call from a lesbian in her 40’s about scheduling couples counseling. She told me that they had gone to another therapist, but felt completely uncomfortable. Especially after the therapist said, “Well, I know this works for heterosexual couples. And I think it’ll probably work for you, too.”

No. No. No.

Save yourself the heartache and the money. Find a therapist that specializes in working with lesbian couples.

A shortcut to finding such a therapist is to locate a couples counselor that identifies as lesbian or queer.

Problem solved.

So if you’re in the Denver area and you’re looking for a lesbian therapist to help you and your partner turn your relationship around, you’ve landed in the right place.

The therapists at The Lesbian Couples Institute are highly trained couples counselors and we’re part of the lesbian community. Give us a call today if you’re looking for help.