#by rights they should belong to something more sensible

[queerfables]

I have this thought that's simmering in the back of my head, and there's some evidence for it, but I simply can't take myself seriously on it, because the idea hits my favourite tropes way too perfectly. I'm, like, 90% sure I should admit to myself that what I actually want is to write fic about this and skip the meta entirely. But apparently this is how I process things these days, so you get my wild projections masquerading as analysis first, and maybe if you're lucky some kind of story later.

So, Nina's partner, Lindsay. Not so much a person as an analogy, right? The consensus is that this relationship is a stand in for Aziraphale's relationship with Heaven, making Heaven the toxic partner holding Aziraphale back from finding real happiness. But the more I think about it, the more I feel like we've taken that assumption and worked backwards from it to prove that Nina is really Aziraphale's mirror and Maggie is really Crowley's.

Look, I realise that drawing the line from Nina to Crowley and Maggie to Aziraphale feels obnoxiously obvious. There are superficial similarities, but does it go any deeper than their general demeanour? When we look at how Nina describes Crowley and Aziraphale - the hard-bitten one who doesn't trust, the soft one who still believes in goodness - I think there's honestly a solid argument to be made that both descriptions could apply to either one of them. I don't think that's conclusive. The thing that's really giving me pause is that Crowley's car and Nina's shop both play Queen. It seems like such a clear signal that they're foils. There's also the fact that the partition around her shop has a very snake-like pattern embedded in it, quite similar in shape to Crowley's tattoo (a detail that pairs nicely with the apple-tree motif on the French restaurant next door).

If Nina is Crowley's mirror, does that mean that Crowley is the one trapped in a toxic relationship? And here's the part where I absolutely cannot trust my brain to give me sensible feedback, because the little gremlin who lives there immediately shuts off all higher functions at the first hint a character might be unwillingly beholden to a nefarious outside force. Especially if they are keeping it a secret.

Could Crowley have been blackmailed or coerced into working for Hell again, despite nominally being estranged from it? I literally could not tell you, because my brain is too busy yelling yes yes yes please oh my god yes. I just love the idea way too much to be rational about it.

I won't insult anyone by labeling this next section "supporting evidence", but here are some ways I think it could fit into canon as it's been established:

In light of my recent meta on how to think about Good Omen's twists, I've been ruminating on some of the big questions I have about season 2. And one of the ones that keeps jostling for my attention is, why are Crowley and Aziraphale not together yet? I don't mean that flippantly, what I mean is - I believe that Crowley and Aziraphale are both aware of the way they feel about each other, and have been for some time. If that's true, what's keeping them apart? Obviously there are quite a few potential answers to this, including the possibility that I'm wrong and they're not both consciously aware of their feelings for each other. But it's an idea I find compelling. They're not together because they're not free yet. And not just in a hypothetical looming threat kind of way.

When Beelzebub summons Crowley in 2x01, Crowley says "I thought we had a generalised understanding." Beelzebub replies, "We don't. You're still a traitor," and then goes on to threaten him with a bounty. The obvious implication is that the understanding they don't have is from the end of season one, that Hell will leave Crowley and Aziraphale alone. But what if it's a different kind of understanding? What if the subtext of Beelzebub's offer for whatever he wants is that he can have enough power to be free of whatever nasty little job he's supposed to be doing on the sly? (Not enough to break free of Hell entirely, though. Never enough for that.)

On the other hand, Crowley doesn't recognise Beelzebub's new face, but they must have been wearing it for a while given all their meetings with Gabriel. Is Crowley bound to the one demon higher than Beelzebub, then? Sorry, the gleeful brain gremlin is the only one available to take questions on this. It sure would be sexy, though, if both the power difference and the secrecy involved were as extreme as possible.

This is a weird little detail that probably doesn't mean anything, but when Aziraphale gets back from Edinburgh, it's early in the morning the day of the ball. The streets are mostly empty and Nina is just arriving for work. Aziraphale helps Crowley put the plants back in the Bentley, and at some point after this, Crowley takes the car and leaves. He must do, because we see him come back. Where did he go? He can't have been gone more than a couple of hours at most, because he arrives back in time to follow Aziraphale around convincing everyone to attend his ball. Okay, fine, maybe Crowley just needed to get away, relax somewhere there's no amnesiac archangel breathing down his neck. But the timeline is so short it seems like a strange detail. It makes me think that Crowley might actually have been hiding something, here. I don't know that this theory is the most likely explanation, but it sure could be an explanation.

And finally, for maximum angst potential, imagine Aziraphale finding out that after everything Crowley said about how toxic Heaven and Hell are, after all the grief he gave Aziraphale for returning to Heaven, that Crowley had been secretly working for Hell all along? WOOF.

[drdemonprince]

Gender liberation, in the end, is not a war between the good group and the bad. It is a collective struggle against the laws, cultural norms, social rules, and institutional policies that restrict all people, and uses rigid gendered categories to keep us so restricted. 

I think if we are going to be able to move forward in this fight, trans men must abandon the notion that other men are fundamentally the “bad” gender — and that we don’t belong to that category because of our transness. We must embrace manhood as a state of both strength and profound lostness, an immense liability as much as it is a source of gender euphoric joy, and see the frustrated wanderings of other marginalized masculine people as of a piece with our own. 

And so, in the interest of helping us all find our way to each other, here are some of the major struggles that trans men and cis men have in common: 

Gender Dysphoria 

Many people believe the experience of having gender dysphoria is something like having a phantom limb, or seeing the wrong image in the mirror, but that’s rarely true. 

For a lot of trans people, gender dysphoria feels more like a maddening insecurity about how we look and how we are being perceived that seems to know no satisfaction, a mental itching that wanders all across our bodies, our faces, down our throats, across our hairlines, and even all over our clothes. It’s the uncertain sense we are not being ourselves correctly, an out-of-placeness that makes our very being feel like it has no right to exist.

Gender dysphoria is not caused by having the “wrong” gendered brain for one’s body (the notion of “male” and “female” brains is a myth), nor is it a mental illness afflicting only trans people. Rather, gender dysphoria is a pretty sensible trauma response to society’s unrelenting and coercive gendering. All people are categorized as a gender, assigned rules, and threatened with becoming less of a person should they fail to measure up. This means that even cisgender people can experience the terror of feeling that they’ve failed to enact their gender correctly and make themselves socially acceptable— a sensation that often gets called “gender dysphoria.” 

I think I first realized that cis people could be gender dysphoric when the actress Amanda Bynes revealed she had tumbled into a major depressive episode after watching herself portray a male character in the comedy She’s the Man. The disturbance she felt from watching herself enact the “wrong” gender sounded exactly like how I felt back when I looked in the mirror at myself as a “woman.” 

In 2019, when Jason Derulo complained about his bulge being removed with CGI for his role in the film Cats, I was reminded once again that cis people can feel utterly, dysphorically wrong in their bodies or how they are perceived. Each year, millions of cis people spend thousands of dollars on breast augmentations, jaw implants, hair plugs, and leg-lengthening surgeries, at least in part for gender dysphoric reasons, and if you’ve worn both male and female clothing before, you’ve likely recognized how much of the tailoring of garments is done to deliberately accentuate or even manufacture the gendered features of a person’s shape. 

Cis people feel ill-at-ease in their bodies, and fail to measure up to gender normative standards too. That’s how artificially constructed and harshly enforced these standards really are.

In recent years, I’ve spent a good amount of time in gay male bathhouses. When I reveal this fact, even to other gay men, I’m sometimes met with confessions of deep bodily insecurity. The idea of being nude in a highly gendered sexual marketplace often causes people’s worst gendered fears to bubble up. 

“I could never go to a place like that,” one cis gay man in his forties confessed to me. “My dick is too small. Nobody would ever want to look at me.” 

“I wouldn’t fit in there,” said another cis man, a short, effeminate type with long flowing hair. “They might think I was a girl and kick me out or harass me.” 

These men knew, of course, that I don’t have a penis, and can be mistaken for a woman from some angles. And I had just told each of them I’d never had any problem visiting the sauna. Yet they couldn’t shake the sense that I was doing manhood correctly enough, and they were somehow doing it wrong. Despite ostensibly being “cis,” they weren’t quite sure that manhood as a category could hold them as they really were — not when they were nude and vulnerable, surrounded by their idea of the proper man. 

Of course, having been in these spaces frequently, I could have told them that nobody there is the “proper” kind of man at all. There’s just regular human beings in there — with sunken chests, stretch marks, amputated limbs, multi-layered bellies, rounded backs, tiny hands, and eye patches. 

Over the years, cis men have shared dozens of gender dysphoric insecurities with me, about everything from the width of their shoulders to the length of their eyelashes to the way they hold a can of beer. And in some of the sections below, we will explore more specific examples, because these sources of dysphoria mirror trans men’s almost exactly. But it’s important to establish first that the major commonality across both groups of men is our fear we’re not being men correctly at all. 

Every man, I believe, grapples with the disjoint between their actual, complex human selves and the strong, built, stoic, powerful, masculine image that has been pushed upon us. And we fear living up to that standard because the consequences of that failure can be so harsh — these norms are quite violently imposed. 

Failing to be a man, in some sense, is what being a man actually means. We are united in the precarity of our position, as powerful as it is. A man in a tank-top with a bald spot sitting beside a lush pond. Photo by Beth Macdonald on Unsplash

Hair Insecurities 

“I wish I could grow a full beard so that I could pass better,” says Topher, a trans guy with long hair in his mid-twenties. “But I’m realizing that cis men with long hair get misgendered often too.” 

Dunmer, a bisexual trans guy, echoes this experience. “In this one chemistry class a few years ago, both me and this cis guy got called ma’am by a professor. I’m a rather effeminate/androgynous dude, but I have prominent facial hair. And the other guy who got misgendered was pretty masculine, but had long hair and was clean shaven. We both just kinda looked at each other and shrugged after it happened.” 

I’ve found that numerous cis and trans men harbor deep insecurities about their hair — where it’s growing, where it doesn’t, how it looks on their bodies, and where they might be losing it. It may sound like a frivolous subject at first blush, but hair is integral to gendered perceptions, as well as how others view our sexual attractiveness, race, and age. 

Trans men worry frequently about potential hair loss on T for more aesthetic reasons. I’ve known numerous trans masculine people who have avoided starting hormones because they’ve feared eventually going bald and becoming “less attractive.” And in this we aren’t alone, as 52 billion dollars gets spent each year (by people of all genders) on hair loss prevention treatments. 

“It’s helped me to realize that cis men are also scared of going bald,” says Topher. “When I worry about something gender-wise, I ask myself if cis men deal with what I deal with, and it’s helped me settle into my identity more.” 

Cis and trans men also share complicated feelings about body hair. Though being covered in a dark blanket of fuzz certainly reads as “masculine,” male beauty standards for the last several decades have eschewed hairiness in favor of a the glistening, action-figure-y look. Trans and cis men alike often fear that hair sprouting on their backs will make them unattractive, or that growing a “neckbeard” will be seen as slovenly. And it’s no coincidence that hairiness has often been linked with fatness and being racialized in many people’s minds — the uncontrolled proliferation of hair is often cast as animalistic, unclean, disgusting, less than human. 

But some men have sought refuge from such punishing standards within the gay Bear community. 

“I have never felt more welcomed in my masculinity than I have around other bears,” says Kody, a trans male bear. “I’m literally growing in my manhood — getting bigger, hairier, louder, taking up more space. While being really soft and tender too.” 

I wrote about the many struggles that unite trans and cis men, and how a deep appreciation for our commonalities is essential to the fight for gender liberation. You can read the full piece for free, or have it narrated to you by the Substack app, at drdevonprice.substack.com.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

In Every Universe

Well. S2EP7 huh. What a ride. Went back to rewatch parts of it while researching for this fic and man, does it still hit as hard as ever. I suppose the sad Arcane playlist didn't help either.

Right, here it is, the longest piece I've ever written in all my years of fanfiction writing. I'm so glad Arcane existed, for all its flaws I still love the series with my whole heart and especially a certain one-eyed war criminal underground drug lord.

Playlist I listened to while writing this:

Spoilers for Arcane Season 2 Episode 7 ahead

One moment you're face to face with the arcane itself, and the next you're staring at a wooden ceiling that's somehow familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. There's something warm next to you and your confused mind registers the weight of something on your chest.

Your first instinct is to quickly free yourself, to put some distance between you and the possibly harmful object, so you lash out at it, rolling off the bed. A rather familiar sounding yelp of pain comes from your left, but your disoriented mind can't remember why it sounds so familiar.

"Easy there, love," a voice groans. Your breath catches in your throat when the figure the voice belongs to sleepily sits up, rubbing his eye.

Silco?

You shake your head. This can't be, he's dead, you've seen his body, you know for certain he's dead, but then why are you seeing this? An illusion? A trick of the mind? Hallucinations?

Your mind races through the possibilities, each more absurd than the last. 'Silco' slides off the bed, carefully approaching you as he should and you properly take in his appearance. Gone is his orange and black eye, instead white surrounds a pale yellow iris. His features are softer, sea-foam coloured eye filled with a level of concern and worry you've only seen him show before he became The Eye of Zaun.

"Love?" His voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

You narrow your eyes at him, muscles tensing. "If this is an illusion, it's a terrible one considering you can't even replicate Silco properly."

"What are you talking about, love? The last I checked, I wasn't an illusion," 'Silco' tilts his head in confusion and raises his hands in surrender. "I mean you no harm, love."

Your hands clench into fists. His words may not contain any lies you can detect but you know better than to let down your guard in unfamiliar territory. You shift your foot and lunge at him, tackling 'Silco' to the ground with a snarl. His eye widens but just like the Silco you know, he quickly regains his signature calm and throws you off.

"I don't want to hurt you, love, but you're not giving me much of a choice with that attitude of yours." 'Silco' huffs. His palms remain open but you can see his muscles tense slightly. You continue your barrage of attacks, and he counters them all with practiced ease, as though he's seen those moves a thousand times before.

The both of you dance until you gain the upper hand by pulling out a move that catches him off guard and pin him to the ground. Your hand slips to where you know he hides a dagger but your fingers find nothing, to your surprise. Taking advantage of that moment, 'Silco' rolls out from under you, panting.

"Now now, love. I know we're married but still, warn me before you start feeling me up." He flashes you a cheeky grin, something he hasn't done in a long time and leaves you even more confused. Something isn't adding up, he's both the Silco you know and isn't. He knows your fighting moves, knows how to counter them which proves that he is the Silco you know and he smells like the Silco you know — cigar ash and scotch. However his left eye is different and he doesn't carry Vander's dagger on him at all times. Wait did he say the two of you are married?

"Married?" You echo.

"Don't tell me you lost your memory," he frowns. "You're acting weird today, love, what has gotten into you?"

"You're the weird one!" You spit back. There's no sensible explanation for any of this…unless…

"Everything alright in there? I know I told you two to turn things down especially at night, some of us need to sleep." Yet another familiar voice sounds from outside the door.

Vander?

"Everything's fine, and don't worry you'll be getting the sleep you need every night," 'Silco' drawls before turning back to you. You stare wide-eyed at the door, throat tightening as emotions threaten to overwhelm you. Flashes of your past with the two brothers race through your mind, Vander's easy smile and comforting presence, Silco's sharp wit and seeming indifference towards you and Vander, your laughter and love for them both. A tear slides down your cheek and you bolt from the room, racing down the stairs you know so well and out the bar, only to be met with a city you don't recognise.

Zaun is lit up, the sun shining down on both cities as Zaunites and Piltovians alike walk past you, chatting away. The streets bustle as hawkers call out their wares and golden light shines upon the Bridge of Progress which is further littered with shops instead of blockades and enforcers. Everywhere you look, buildings stand tall and proud, colour decorates the dirty grey city you knew and your heart shatters.

This…is this what could have been?

Your vision blurs from the tears pouring down your face as it hits you. This is an alternate reality, there's no other explanation. A reality where Zaun becomes independent, co-existing as equals with Piltover. A reality where Silco and Vander's dream comes true.

You stand in the middle of the street with tear streaks on your cheeks, eyes puffy and feel so lost until someone drapes something over your shoulders. It's warm, whatever it is, and smells nice.

"I'm right here." Arms gently guide you to rest your head on a familiar shoulder. "Take all the time you need."

You're not sure why but that's all it takes for the dam to break and you find yourself sobbing hard into his shoulder. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer and you feel his lips press against the top of your head. You hug him tightly, mind still screaming that this is all a dream, but if this is really just all a dream, you don't want to wake up.

Once you've calmed down, you lift your head and Silco smiles softly at you. "Shall we go home?"

You hum in agreement, letting him lead you back to The Last Drop. You can feel his hand resting on the small of your back, his shoulder brushing against yours and lean into the touch, grateful for the support. He feels the same as the Silco you know, and if you close your eyes, you're back there again, before the incident at the bridge, before you were forced to choose between Silco and Vander.

When you enter The Last Drop, 'Vander' slides a glass of your favourite drink towards you while 'Silco' takes a seat next to you.

"Nothing for me?" 'Silco' teases. 'Vander' laughs, but slides him a glass of scotch anyways. 'Silco' takes a sip before placing the cup between the two of you, gently resting his hand on your forearm. You cautiously place your own hand on top of his, it fits the same way as your Silco's hand does, but your Silco is dead and this Silco is alive. Then again your Vander is dead and this Vander is alive.

You sniff the drink in front of you, eyeing it warily. 'Silco' snorts, lifting the glass to his lips and takes a mouthful. "See? Not poisoned. What has gotten into you today?"

You frown, tapping your finger on the counter top as you think of a way to broach this topic. How were you going to explain that somehow, you had been transported into your body from an alternate universe? There was also the nagging question of where Ekko, Heimerdinger and Jayce were, if they were even in this universe as well. You heave a sigh, looking into sea foam and grey eyes.

"Just a nightmare." You can't tell them anything, and doubt they'll believe you anyways. 'Silco' narrows his eyes but 'Vander' places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 'Silco' scowls but relents and leaves you alone for the rest of the day, which you spend exploring this alternate reality.

Turns out, this is the reality in which Vi died in the explosion. 'Vander' has different tattoos, but he still betrayed 'Silco' and tried to kill him. How the two made up, well for whatever reason the two seemed adamant about keeping it quiet, but it made your heart ache for what could have been back in your universe.

That night, you can't sleep. Your mind is racing, going through everything you've learnt today. In the dark, you can see 'Silco' peacefully slumbering on his right side, an arm draped over your waist. His chest gently rises and falls with each breath he takes, his face buried into your chest. He looks completely different from your Silco when he sleeps, his dark brown hair tousled, facial muscles relaxed and lips curved into what looks like a smile. Your Silco never slept on his right side, always preferring to sleep on his left side with a dagger clutched under the pillow.

'Silco' mumbles something, stirring slightly and you shift, only for him to blindly grasp for your arm so that he can bury himself further into your chest, bringing a small smile to your face. It's been so long since you've shared your bed with another, maybe you can indulge him just this once. It wouldn't hurt…right?

You run your fingers through his hair, remembering the times where you'd comb his hair for him, gently pressing kisses to his scarred cheek until he told you he had a meeting to attend and then you'd kiss him on the lips for good luck before letting him go. 'Silco' purrs softly, nuzzling into you and holds you closer, a free heater on this cool night.

You miss this. You miss hugging your lover like it's your last moment in this world, you miss his touch, his warmth. You miss the way he holds you tightly when he's feeling down, the feeling of his forehead pressing against yours, the electricity that crackles in the air when his fingers linger on your hand longer than it needs to as he passes you his cigar. You miss the way he makes your heart race from all the small smiles he sends your way during a meeting with the chem-barons, the way he makes you stifle a laugh when he rolls his eye at their bickering, but most of all the way he holds your hand. Your palms have always slotted into each other's like puzzle pieces, made perfectly for one another.

This 'Silco' is the same, yet different, and despite all his faults, you've always loved your Silco. It's why you chose to side with him over Vander, why you walked down the path towards hell with him despite knowing where it led. You knew that given the choice again, you would always choose him over everything else, and if that made you loyal to him to a fault, so be it.

Still, you wonder if you could've steered him towards the path this 'Silco' took. Would you have been able to nudge him towards forgiveness, leaving his hatred and vengeance behind for the shared dream of Zaun? You shake your head, what's past is past, there's no changing it. The only thing you can do now it look forward, and push on ahead, as you know your Silco would want you to, but doing so is so much harder than knowing it.

I love you, the words you were never able to say to him. The both of you always knew how the other felt, but neither of you ever verbalised it. You trace 'Silco's' scars, wondering if this version of you ever uttered those words to him.

"Can't sleep, love?" He mumbles, rolling over so that he can see you.

"It's just…been a long day."

He hums, and then pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head. Rubbing gentle circles on your back, he nuzzles your hair. "Then you better get as much rest as you can. I'll be here when you wake up."

Tears begin to fill your eyes again but you squeeze them shut, willing the grief away. If this is a dream, you want it to continue on forever. You don't want to wake up, you don't want to lose Silco and Vander again.

But you still wake up.

Because you have to.

On your second day, you learn that Ekko and Powder are preparing for a competition.

"Ekko?"

"Y/N?"

"Are you —"

"Do you know where we can talk in private?"

You've never been so relieved to hear that.

You learn that Ekko and Heimerdinger have met up, and that Jayce is nowhere to be found. Ekko has a theory that recreating what brought all three of you to this universe in the first place might be able to send you all back home, and he's been trying to do just that the past few days.

"Home," you echo, staring at the bustling city below.

"You…don't want to go back?"

"Do you?" Your question catches him off guard and he pauses, looking at the ground.

"I…I don't know."

"You and Powder, right?" You give him a knowing look and he looks away, embarrassed. "I know the feeling."

He raises an eyebrow but you press on, ignoring the inquisitive look he sends your way. "This world…this universe, it's everything we've wanted. Well, almost everything. Looking at all this, I don't know if I want to go back. Do I want to throw it all away just to go back to bloodshed, chaos and war?"

"We have people back home who need us."

Sevika.

Jinx.

Their faces flash in your mind and your throat constricts.

"We can't just abandon them, as much as we prefer this world." Ekko's eyes are hard. "We have to go back."

It's hurting him to say this, but he's saying it anyways because he knows it's right. You look back at the bright city of Zaun and sigh. Ekko speaks the cold hard truth, but you're torn. Going back means confronting the reality that Vander, and more importantly Silco, are forever lost to you, that Zaun is still struggling in the fight against Piltover, that you have to fight every day to survive, but going back also means reuniting with your closest friend Sevika, your adopted daughter Jinx, and you know they need you as much as you need them.

"I've made my mind up," Ekko turns to leave. "Let me know when you've made yours up. In the meantime, I'll be working on my theory with Heimerdinger."

"…thanks."

"Never thought I'd hear you thank me."

"Well, I never thought I'd end up in an alternate universe, so there."

Ekko snorts and leaves you alone with your thoughts. He's right, it seems this alternate universe is starting to influence you, in a good way from the looks of it. You huff in amusement, letting yourself smile and look out at the silhouette of Piltover in the distance. You owed it to your Silco to see his dream of an equal Zaun and Piltover, and the only way to do that was to go home.

"You doing alright?" You turn to see 'Vander' standing behind you.

"Well, that depends really. Are you talking physically, emotionally or mentally?"

"Even if he doesn't act like it, Silco's worried about you. He's been asking me to talk to you since you won't tell him what's going on."

"Aren't you supposed to keep that last part a secret?" You chuckle. He shrugs, moving over to stand next to you.

"Well, it's out of the bag now, he can't do anything about that. So, are you going to tell me if everything's alright or am I going to have to pry it out of you with alcohol?"

"Hmph." You take a seat and he follows, carefully watching your every move. "If you had to choose between being with the one you love and saving Zaun, which would you pick?"

"I would save Zaun." You blink at him, surprised at the lack of hesitation in his answer. You knew which option he would choose, but the speed at which he gave his answer was unexpected.

"If there's anything I've learnt from all these years, it's that the ones we love are never truly gone. They are right here." He places a hand over his heart. "Felicia, Vi, everyone we've lost, they're kept alive by our memories, our feelings, our thoughts, and are always with us."

"You always know what to say," you huff, choking back the tears. "Never missed a beat, not even once."

"You can always talk to us, little dove. We're always here for you, Silco and I." You throw yourself into Vander's arms, hugging him tightly. He wraps his arms around you in turn, holding you securely in his warm embrace.

Little dove. You never thought you'd hear that nickname again. The dove had died the day you chose to follow Silco down the path towards hell, you still remember the looks of sorrow Vander had given you as you turned your back on him, hate filling your eyes. You'd been angry at him for what he did to Silco, hurled words you wish you could take back, screamed then cried, wrapped in Silco's cold embrace as he whispered of the revenge the both of you would take on Vander.

And you never got the chance to apologise.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you wail, clutching at his sleeves. "I should never have said any of that, I shouldn't have cursed you, I take it all back, I take it all back."

"I've already long forgiven you." His words are enough to make you break, screaming out your grief over what you've lost forever. You cry and cry, letting out all your regret, the bottled up emotions finally spilling out after years of containing them for the sake of staying strong. Your nails dig into his arms, gripping onto him for support as your body wracks with every cry. The world around you blurs from the tears and you feel your knees buckle but a pair of strong arms catch you.

"I've got you."

Your body squeezes out one last sob before it collapses, unable to bear the weight of it all anymore.

If only I had your back the same way you always had mine.

When you next open your eyes, you're back on your shared bed with 'Silco', with a singular sea foam coloured eye watching you. He shifts, moving closer to you and gently cups your cheek, thumb gliding over your skin.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I thought following you into hell was the best thing I could do for you, but it wasn't. I should have said something, done something to stop you from destroying yourself, cleared your vision when it became clouded, but I was too weak to. I didn't want to lose you, not after losing everything else."

He presses a kiss to your forehead. "I'm right here, just as I promised."

That's right, how could you have forgotten? Promises whispered in the dead of night, huddled on the rooftop under a single coat, lips locking as fingers intertwined, foreheads pressed against each other, time freezing in that moment, the world condensed to just the both of you.

Stay by my side, always?

Always.

Moments clouded by the haze of anger, vengeance and hatred slowly begin to reveal themselves, memories buried the day you turned your back on Vander flooding back into your head. A warm hug, a hand ruffling your hair, deep laughter, the clink of glasses raised in toast to a new future, music playing in the background, a pen nib scratching on paper, hands brushing against one another sending tingles up your spine, a shy smile, lying on the rooftop looking up at nothing, dreaming of a better future.

"Stay, please."

"I'm not going anywhere, love. You're stuck with me forever."

You feel the bed dip as he moves to lie down next to you, slipping his hand into yours. Looking into his eye, you see a glimmer that your Silco lost along with his left eye, a quiet look of adoration, of endless love and you lean in, feeling his soft lips, tasting the scotch he loves to drink.

It feels wrong, this is not your Silco, but just for the moment you let yourself drift away, kissing him deeper, pouring all your love and regret into the act. He kisses back fervently, hungrily devouring you, eye closed as time comes to a stop around the both of you.

"I miss you," you breathe, lips parting. "I miss you so much."

"It's only been half a day."

"Shut up."

"Make me." You slam your lips against his once more, savouring the taste of him, fingers tangled in his hair. He pulls you closer, greedily devouring you. One hand rests on the back of your neck while the other rests on your back as he kisses you like there's no tomorrow. Maybe there is no tomorrow, maybe you have to go back to your universe tonight but right now, all you can think about is how much you've missed this.

Your lips finally part as you gasp for air, lost in the bliss of the moment. You feel his hands cup your cheeks, his forehead pressing against yours as you both bask in each other's presence. He's so warm, nothing like the body you cradled months ago as your world shattered, wails ripped from your throat. His touch is gentle, calloused fingers ghosting over your skin as he holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

It's nice, living in this universe where everyone you love is alive and well, where you're happily married to the man you've devoted your life to, but you know you don't belong. Your hands are stained with blood that you can never wash off, Shimmer taints the blood in your veins and your heart is broken beyond repair. In this world of peace, of wholeness, you will never find a place. It's made for the you of this universe, the you who still remembers how to live in a time of peace, who doesn't jump at every shadow believing it to be a threat.

You breathe in deeply, basking in his comforting presence. He still smells of cigar ash and scotch, but it's less sharp. You reach up, placing your hands on top of his and close your eyes. Like this, it's almost as if your Silco is the one cradling your face and you feel a silent tear slide down your cheek.

Damn, you've been crying a lot since you arrived in this universe.

He moves a hand to wipe the tear away, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. As he pulls back, his lips curve into a smile and you mentally save the image. You never imagined he could be capable of such levels of love after Vander's betrayal but here he was, having forgiven Vander, having the courage to marry you openly, having the courage to wear his wedding ring on his finger. He was so much stronger than you thought, and you feel bad for doubting him.

I never thought I'd see you smile like that again, even if it's you in another universe. The thought rings in your head and you can't help but let a chuckle slip. The first genuine laugh you've made since arriving in this universe.

"And what's suddenly so funny?" He does his signature head tilt, mockingly glaring at you. It seems some habits remain the same in every universe.

"Nothing," you hum, heart feeling lighter. It's like a weight has been lifted from your chest, and you feel free. You take in his features, remembering every line on your Silco's face, remembering the shape of his scar, remembering his touch, remembering the way he would kiss you, but these memories no longer choke you, no longer crush you under their weight. Instead, they're cast in a radiant glow, preserved in your heart.

He snorts in disbelief but doesn't press it further, choosing to cuddle under the blanket with you. Your fingers thread through his hair, the rhythm slowly lulling him to sleep and soon he's drifted off, allowing you to untangle yourself from him and slip out.

You head to the rooftop, breathing in the cool night air and watch the lights of the city below twinkle. Gone are the bright and aggressive neon lights of the Zaun you're familiar with, replaced with the soft glow of white lights.

It's beautiful. A different kind of beauty, but still as beautiful as the Zaun you know and love. The night breeze whispers in your ear, carrying the hums of the city's nightlife. You lie down on the cold hard floor, reaching up at the sky with one hand and wonder if you will ever be able to grasp the dream of an independent Zaun for your universe.

"Is the bed not comfortable enough for you?" 'Silco' sits down next to your head, leaning back on his palms.

"Nice to see you too." You've never really registered the fact that he doesn't hide his scars in this universe, but under the night lights, the ridges of his scar stand out, drawing your attention to them. He hums, looking out at the sprawling city.

"Do you think we fall in love in every universe?" You blurt out.

He looks over at you, raising an eyebrow. "Feeling sentimental all of a sudden?"

"Just thinking about it."

He hums, deep in thought. "I would like to believe so."

You smile. "Yeah, me too."

As the night goes by, you feel your eyes start to close. It's so tiring, sorting through your bottled up emotions, but as you look up to see 'Silco' smiling, you decide that maybe it's not so bad if it means you get to see him at peace.

The next few days pass by in a blur. You help 'Vander' prepare The Last Drop for the upcoming Innovator's Competition celebration, hanging up the decorations and drop by Ekko's place for updates on the machine. You do what you can to help Ekko, Powder and Heimerdinger out but amidst geniuses, you can only do so much. Still, as the machine comes closer and closer to completion, trepidation creeps in.

Are you really going to throw it all away just to go home?

On the day of the celebration, you take the chance to explore the city a little more, wanting to take in more of the sights before you return to your universe. 'Silco' offers to accompany you but you turn him down, telling him that it would just be a quick in and out. You see his expression falter for just a split second but he lets you go. You thank him, pressing a quick peck on his scarred cheek before slipping out the door, into the familiar yet unfamiliar streets of Zaun.

You wander around aimlessly, wondering if your Zaun will ever reach the same level of prosperity and peace. Children play in the water fountain, laughing as they splash about without a care in the world. Friends stand around, chatting away as if they have all the time in the world. You feel like a stranger here, used to the dark grey and the shadows that make up your Zaun.

Walking past a bakery, the smell of freshly baked bread fills your nose, bringing you back to the time when you had jumped into Silco's arms, laughing as you clutched a bag of fresh bread stolen from a Piltovian bakery, yelling at him to run before the enforcers could catch up. He had stood there for a moment, cheeks flushed before realising what you just said and took off running, gripping tightly onto your arm. You remember the adrenaline that had coursed through your veins, the loud and freeing laughter that rang through the air, the way you had breathlessly pinned him against the wall, kissing him for the first time as enforcers walked past the both of you, the bag of bread pressed between your bodies. You remember his flustered expression as you broke the kiss, adrenaline fading, his conflicted look before he pulled you in for another kiss, this time deeper.

You buy a bun just for old times' sake, tearing off a chunk. It's pretty good, although not as good as the one you stole. You had shared the stolen bread with Silco, cheekily taking a bite from his loaf and scarpering off before he could do the same to yours, his footsteps and shouts getting louder as he gained on you. He had taken his revenge that day, taking a bite from your loaf before flicking you on the forehead, grumbling about how you made him run so much.

You'd only laughed, ribbing him with your elbow before plopping onto your usual bar stool, eyes shining while he took out his notebook with a sigh, still nibbling on his bread and continued calculating The Last Drop's finances. Vander had shook his head in amusement once he found out what was going on, teasing Silco about getting married to you which caused Silco to bury himself further into his notebook, but neither you nor Vander missed the way the tips of his ears turned red.

The bread that day had tasted sweeter than usual, and back then you had chalked it up to a difference in baking but now that you think about it, it was probably because you were sharing it with Silco. You smile, taking another bite of your bread and continue your aimless journey, watching as the city moves all around you, going about their day.

A particular store catches your attention, the jewellery on display glinting in the light and you make your way over, still munching on your bread. Rings, bracelets, piercings and necklaces fill the counter, but a ring in particular catches your attention. It's a simple silver band on the surface, but you recognise the markings carved into it.

"You've got good taste. That ring's special, carved with archaic runes that are said to preserve the feelings of the gifter." The shopkeeper pushes the box in which the ring sits closer to you.

"So I've heard." You trace the runes, remembering the first time you laid eyes on this ring.

It had been during one of your little adventures into Piltover and a particularly fancy box had caught your eye. Making sure no one was looking, your nimble fingers had swiped the box and you disappeared into the shadows, curious about what lay within. Upon opening the box, you were disappointed by the sight that greeted you. It was a simple silver ring, with nothing of note until you looked closer. Something was carved into the metal, patterns that looked like runes. Now that was a ring worth selling. You had pocketed it, wondering how high you could sell it for until you overheard someone talking about proposing to their girlfriend with a ring amidst a flower field.

A romantic gesture huh. You had slipped the ring out again, looking it over. Would Silco appreciate such a gesture? Marriages were few and far between in Zaun, it was something few could even think about, and fewer chose to go with it. You didn't need marriage to know how Silco felt about you, it was as clear as day to those whom you wanted to know about it and that was more than enough for the both of you. Still, it would make a nice gift, so you had pocketed the ring and headed towards The Last Drop where your proposal had gone terribly unromantic.

You let slip a quiet chuckle as you recall that night, hand reaching for the ring hanging around the chain on your neck and tucked underneath your shirt only to grasp at nothing. Oh…right…this version of you never proposed to Silco via that ring so instead he had proposed to you with a different ring that this version of you wore on your ring finger. You fiddle with the ring on your finger, thanking the shopkeeper for her time before heading back to The Last Drop. It is almost time for the celebration, and you want dibs on the first bottle of alcohol opened.

The walk back feels strangely melancholic, maybe it's the colour the setting sun bathes the city in, maybe it's the thought of needing to leave this city behind when you go back to your universe since the machine is so close to completion, but you purposely walk slower than normal. Your fingers brush along the walls of buildings, run over the stone the water fountains are made from, and gently rest on the cooling metal of the benches.

How will you bid farewell to this universe's Silco? You sit on one of the benches, looking up at the sky, lost in thought. Your heart still yearns for Silco, but you also know that you have a responsibility to Jinx and Sevika, both of whom are in your home universe.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You look to your left as Heimerdinger climbs onto the bench, taking a seat next to you.

"No thanks." You turn your gaze back to the sky, arms draped over the bench's backrest.

"I must admit, I don't know what's troubling you, but I do know when someone's carrying a heavy burden." He follows your gaze, looking up at the sky. "And the burden you bear is a terribly heavy one."

"What do you know of carrying heavy burdens?"

"I know that it's heavier when carried alone, and that the bearer tends to think they're alone when in reality they aren't."

You laugh, "your kind live long lives, don't they?"

"Indeed we do."

"Do you have any regrets then?"

"Oh, plenty, but I've learnt to move on from them. No one doesn't have regrets, what defines us is how we deal with them. Some let their regrets consume them and wallow in self-pity, others rise above their regrets and learn from them. The question is how will you deal with yours?" Heimerdinger looks at you.

"I've been ignoring mine, pretending that they don't exist, but I've been forced to confront them here. I know I can't turn back time to fix my mistakes, I know they can never be fixed, but this — this universe, in this universe my regrets don't exist. I can be free of my regrets here, and yet, I have a duty to those from our universe. I have friends, other family, people to lead. I can't just abandon them, but I don't want to lose this paradise either." You heave a deep sigh, closing your eyes. "I don't know if I can lose the one I love for the second time."

"I admire your strength, it's a kind few possess. To still consider duty when it means losing someone you love again, it's a testament to who you are. I cannot claim to understand how you feel, but I have heard that we only ever truly lose someone when we forget them."

"Hmph. Vander." You snort. "Everywhere I go, he still influences the people around him."

"He must be quite the fellow."

"He is. The Hound of Zaun, people called him. Yet he's the gentlest and kindest person I know. And I let him die." Your words fade into a whisper. "All because I wasn't strong enough to steer the one I loved away from the path of destruction."

"You aren't the only one who has stood by and watched as someone they cared about destroyed themself." Heimerdinger bows his head. "I failed my pupil, and not a day goes by where I wonder if I should have done more back then, but I believe I did what I could. With hindsight as my teacher, I learn not to repeat that mistake so that I won't regret it again. I know you have the strength to do the same."

"Such optimism."

"I only speak the truth. Now then, I must go back to the lab and continue working on our way home. Enjoy yourself at the party, time is precious especially when we only have so much of it left."

"Enjoy myself huh. I suppose I can try." You stand up, stretching your limbs. "I doubt there'll be another party any time soon."

The party that takes place that night is nothing like you've ever experienced before. The floor is abuzz with excited young inventors showing off their latest fancy gadgets, alcohol exchanging hands as friends and lovers alike chat the night away, all the while you hang behind the counter, watching the scene unfold.

"Finally acting your age?" 'Benzo' laughs boisterously, slapping you on the back.

"Could say the same about you," you retort, taking a sip from your glass. 'Silco' had left earlier to mingle with other people, but you weren't exactly in the mood to form more relationships you knew were going to end soon. 'Vander' remained behind the bar counter to serve drinks and in the beginning you tried to help him, but you soon began trying each drink that was opened, much to his amusement and he 'fired' you from your job.

"Go out there and have fun, I've got it covered here." He had shooed you away but all you did was move a couple of steps before stopping, refusing to move any further. 'Vander' had sighed but had let you remain there, and still you remain at your spot, even after 'Silco' has long disappeared into the crowd.

Ekko meets your gaze and leans in, "so, what's your answer?"

"I…I need more time to think." You swallow, glancing at where you last saw 'Silco'.

"You don't have much more time." His eyebrows furrow.

"I know. I just…need to sort some things out first, get rid of the monsters of my past that kind of thing," you joke but Ekko doesn't laugh along.

"Tonight, once the party dies down, come with me to the lab. Heimerdinger said he wants to discuss something with us."

"Sure." With that out of the way, you turn to go and find 'Silco'. He at least needed to know that you would be disappearing tonight. Your heart thunders in your chest, anxiety surfacing as you struggle to think of what to say to him. You can't exactly tell him that you're from an alternate universe and might be going back to your universe soon, that would be insane.

You watch as 'Silco' makes his way over to 'Vander', surprised when he slips an arm around your waist and basically hauls you over as well with a smile.

"So, there's a chance for us yet." He places a hand on 'Vander's' shoulder, looking up at the bigger man. He presses a kiss to your forehead, chuckling, "we'll finally get the rest we deserve, love. Aren't you excited?"

Ekko gapes at you, the pieces finally falling into place. "You —"

"The monsters of my past," you smile sadly at him, letting out a deep breath. "You're not the only one."

Ekko shakes his head but you can tell, he understands. You and Silco, your destinies intertwined no matter the universe. I'm sorry, he mouths. 'Vander' pours a drink for 'Silco' who looks at Ekko with a fondness you've never seen before, a mixture of pride and sass.

"Didn't think I'd miss your big day, did you?" 'Silco' smirks.

"Didn't you try to kill him?" Ekko blurts out and you feel 'Silco's' grip on you tighten. You place your hand on his, thumb brushing over the back of his palm and he shoots you a look of gratitude, taking the glass from 'Vander'.

"The greatest thing we can do in life is find the power to forgive." He raises the glass in toast to 'Vander', gaze softening as he turns to you, taking a sip from his glass before handing the rest to you. "Don't get too drunk, love. I'd rather not have to haul you off to bed later."

"I'm not a child," you pout and 'Silco' laughs, nuzzling into your hair. Ekko chuckles, taking a sip from his drink when suddenly, the lights go out and streamers fall from the ceiling. Powder walks in, turning every head within her vicinity. You watch as Ekko steps forward, taking her hand and begins to dance. Their bodies sway to the beat, moving in sync and the crowd moves to make space for the couple. More begin to dance, twirling upon the dance floor as the music picks up and you can't help but watch, wondering what it's like to feel so free.

"May I?" A voice murmurs in your ear and you look down to find a hand extended towards you. 'Silco' smiles encouragingly and you slip your hand into his.

"I've never —"

"Just follow my lead and trust me."

"Don't you go letting me down, you hear?"

"Have I ever?" He pulls you in, pressing a deep kiss to your lips before spinning you around. Soon, you find yourself led by the music and 'Silco's' gentle guidance, your feet gliding over the dance floor. You feel light as a feather, a big smile gracing your features, eyes focused only on 'Silco' whose gaze remains fixed on you. His fingertips ghost over your skin, sending shivers up your spine and you lean in, lips mere inches away from his before you pull away. You can't recall the last time you felt so alive. The air is electrifying, your lungs gasping for air as 'Silco' pulls you in for another kiss, his arms wrapping themselves around you.

Dawn will come, you know, and the night will be over, but while it lasts, you will squeeze it for every drop of enjoyment it has to offer. You inhale his scent, the cigar ash drowned out by the alcohol he's drunk and capture his lips in a fervent kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and he indulges you, savouring the taste of your wine-tainted lips.

"I love you," he whispers. "Always, and forevermore."

You open your mouth to say the words you never got to say to your Silco but they get stuck in your throat. You struggle to say something back, emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

"Yeah," you finally manage to breathe out. "I know."

His gaze softens, thumb running over your cheek and you almost don't tell him of your plan to visit the lab tonight but you catch a glimpse of Ekko leaving the party and steel yourself. You have to, this is not your world, as much as you wish it were. You can't keep running away, if Silco can find a way to forgive Vander, you can find a way to forgive yourself.

"Silco?" The word feels foreign on your tongue.

"Yes, love?"

"I need to leave."

"Leave?" He echoes, confused.

"I…Ekko asked me to help him with the finishing touches of his Z-Drive." The excuse is flimsy but 'Silco' buys it anyways. His touch lingers just for a little longer but he lets you go, gently pushing you towards the exit.

"Then you better get going, or the boy wonder is going to need to pull an all-nighter again."

You blink and then smile sadly at him. "Before…I forget. I want — I want to thank you." Grief bubbles to the surface again and you swallow hard. "For everything. Whether you know it or not, you — you've done so much for me. You mean the world to me, you're my everything and — and I don't know what I'd do without you, but I have to try. For your sake and mine. I can't just keep wallowing in despair, grieve as the world moves on around me, I have to move on, keep going one step at a time, because you'd want me to."

Tears prick the corners of your eyes and you whirl around, quickly fleeing as tears flow down your face freely, blurring your vision. You hear 'Silco' call out to you but his voice is muffled by the blood roaring in your ears and the pattering of your shoes against the ground as you run, run and run until you reach the lab.

Ekko and Heimerdinger turn to face you, concern written all over their faces as you harshly wipe away the tears, sniffing.

"So, what's the update?" Your voice wavers.

"Good news! The machine is ready!" Heimerdinger chirps.

"I see. Good thing I've laid the monsters to rest then." You take a deep breath, stepping into the machine with Ekko. "Time to go home."

As the machine comes to life, the arcane begins to whirl around you, howling. This is it, no more going back, no more running away, no more chasing the past. You watch as Heimerdinger connects the power cables, your limbs going numb as he disappears into thin air. Your alternate self's body and Ekko's appear on the floor, unconscious as Powder and 'Silco' run in, eyes wide.

You watch as 'Silco' hugs your alternate self's body to his chest, then looks up at your real body floating inside the sphere. Your gazes connect for the final time and you feel your heart ache. You want to reach out to him, feel his skin on yours one last time, taste his lips one last time, hold him one last time but you know you can't. Your Silco is gone, physically, and there's no bringing him back. So instead you mouth the words you've always wanted to say, trusting that your Silco will hear it anyways from wherever he is in the afterlife, if there even is one.

I love you.

And the arcane snaps everything to black.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Yandere Jennifer Check and Anita “Needy” Lesnicki Sharing Darling!Reader Headcanons (romantic)

It's obvious right off the bat who the instigator is when it comes to the idea of sharing their obsession in the first place and surprise, surprise its Jennifer. Whether the darling was hers to begin with or Anita's, Jennifer doesn’t mind sharing. At least not too much. And besides, who better to share with other than her bestie? No one, that's who.

There would be quite a few distinctions between Jennifer and Needy sharing a darling before and after Jennifer’s transformation. In the very beginning, Jennifer and Needy can work pretty well together. Sure there’s disagreements about how things should be or what they should do revolving their darling in general but other than that it’s harmless fun for the most part. Things don’t get real intense until after everything happens.

The only big disagreement early on is that Anita wants to be much more lowkey about their obsession while Jennifer wants to show it and their darling off to the whole world. She wants everyone to see what belongs to her and Needy, and only them. Jennifer can certainly takes things too far even before she’s a man eating demon, but she always finds a way to either make up with Anita or get Anita to see her side of it. Jennifer is no stranger to getting what she wants and she’s damn good at it to even begin with. More times then not she gets away with her antics both with Anita and others. And their darling would be no exception to her manipulation and charm either. Whether the darling is susceptible to it or not is another thing.

As much as Needy feels awkward with this whole situation, Jennifer makes it seem like the most normal thing ever. Out of the two, Jennifer is the only one who doesn’t have a second thought about it, meanwhile Anita can’t help her mind racing with pros and cons, right and wrong, what would be acceptable and what would be deemed unacceptable. She can’t help but to worry and worry all the more. The social hierarchy is a real bitch, people talk and things get around, and Needy still can’t quite process everything happening but she knows that she needs you in her life and she wouldn’t want anything to ruin that or take it away from her.

Anita is the more sensible one, not to mention she takes your wants and feelings into account a hell of a lot more than Jennifer can even pretend to. As far as Needy’s concerned she genuinely cares for you. You’re not just some kind of possession or glorified pet like Jennifer makes you out to be, you’re your own person and Needy could never take that away from you. She wouldn’t want to anyway. All she wants is to be by your side, going through the experiences of life with you and just getting to be together but she could live with just keeping a close eye on you from a comfortable distant if that’s what came to be. It wasn’t really until Jennifer was very outwardly and vocally interested in you that Anita would feel overcome with the need to protect you to some degree given the newfound influx of attention sent your way from being even just acquainted with Jennifer, let alone being a romantic interest. And that need would only become all the more intense after Jennifer’s transformation. Needy just had to keep you safe, at all costs.

Jennifer utterly adores you, or rather she adores the idea of you. She likes what she likes and wants what she wants, and you are no exception. It’s one thing if you were her darling to begin with and she picked up on Needy’s interest in you too, but it’s an entirely other thing if you were Needy’s darling from the beginning.

If you were Needy’s darling to begin with than Jennifer would be insufferable to shake off. She would never say she was jealous of Needy or anything, that would be completely ridiculous, but she absolutely felt some type of way about Needy’s interest in you. At first, it started off as a harmless bit of wanting to take something that Needy had but then again how could Jennifer take something that didn’t even belong to Needy in the first place. At least, not yet anyway. Cause that was just so like Needy to not take what she wanted when she wanted, but Jennifer wasn’t like that. When she saw an opportunity she took it without question or she made her own.

Before shit hits the fan Jennifer would be more inclined to share with Anita, cause why not. They can be the best of both worlds, right? Sure there is some pretty heavy competitiveness on both sides that can either be a bit of fun to watch unfold or a pain in the ass to be stuck in the middle of. Either way it starts off pretty tame and slightly petty but still ‘good’ natured in a way. Jennifer and Needy were still very much able to put their competitiveness aside in order to work together for their darling. Especially when it came to one distracting them while the other took care of some unwanted obstacles. But any semblance of teamwork goes out the window after Jennifer’s transformation.

After everything happens, a drift would begin to form between Anita and Jennifer, especially when Jennifer starts full on killing. Particularly people who either gave too much attention to their darling or people who their darling didn’t care too much for, or the people who wronged their darling for any reason, even if it was the smallest thing. Honestly, no one would be safe from becoming a victim of Jennifer when it came to her obsession. And that’s when Anita comes to the realization that this is a whole lot of fucked up going on and she not only doesn’t want to be a part of it but she certainly can’t allow their darling to be involved with Jennifer either anymore. Both for their safety and Anita’s overwhelming anxiety.

It certainly wouldn’t help the situation when Jennifer brings the worst out of Needy’s insecurities as is, especially when it comes to you. But after everything, Jennifer would only be all the more vindictive. She feeds into Needy’s worries and doubts about not being good enough or deserving enough for you in any aspect. She truly is the devil on Needy’s shoulder and only wants to bring Anita to her side of the obsession, the more deplorable side. There are a handful of times that Needy catches herself very nearly giving in to what Jennifer is trying to do. And she feels absolutely ashamed and frustrated. Both with herself and with what Jennifer has become. She can’t just sit by with her thumb up her ass and let Jennifer do what she’s doing. Especially when her darling is stuck right in the middle of it all.

The confrontation would end up being a hell of a lot messier and all the more petty than originally. Anita has every intention of ensuring her darling doesn’t go to prom night, especially not alone with Jennifer. She knows Jennifer wouldn’t kill them, but she could very well still harm them especially when she’s in one of her moods or when she’s told ‘No’ for once. Jennifer isn’t stupid enough to do something as rash as killing their darling, she is extremely selfish after all and she very much wants her darling alive and well for the life she has in mind for the two of them after all of this.

Honestly, with how done Needy is and with what all she has to lose if she continues to let Jennifer go on without doing something she would act a hell of a lot sooner than canonly. Anita is by no means holding back when she comes face to face with Jennifer for the last time. She’s so over the bullshit and only has her darling’s safety in mind for what she intends to do. She doesn’t even hesitate when she finally has her chance, going in for the kill but Needy doesn’t want it to be quick she wants Jennifer to hurt for what she’s done and what she would have continued to do. She also wanted to get some stuff off her chest too and what better time than during Jennifer’s final moments? Needy throws Jennifer’s own insecurities in her face, her own jealousy and envy she very well had eating her up inside too. They weren’t so different in that regard after all. The whole ordeal is a roller-coaster of emotion but Anita doesn’t regret it. If anything she would gladly do it a thousand times over if it meant her darling would be safe.

Anita would still inevitably end up in the asylum after everything, especially after getting bitten by Jennifer. She feels this is where she needs to be to keep her darling safe from herself. And for a while it works, Anita is too overcome with the fear of becoming like Jennifer, she could never live with herself if she ever did. But eventually Needy gets to a point where she becomes restless thinking about you and whether you’re really safe without her around. If she’s away from you then that leaves you vulnerable to god knows who else and the thought alone makes her want to rip everyone apart piece by disgusting piece. Especially knowing that godforsaken band who destroyed Jennifer are still out there only has Anita even more on edge.

But she’ll protect you, she’ll always protect you, and nothing can keep her from doing so. Especially not now. Not even a high security asylum can keep her locked away from her darling. She’ll be out in no time and when she is she’ll come for you. It’ll give her even more of an excuse to take care of some unfinished business, all the more ensuring those creeps can’t get to you too or anyone else for that matter.

[chibinasuu]

Killer x Reader ― snowstorm; by the fire

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― anonymous tags: sfw, fluff, GN!Reader, no use of y/n, forced proximity, pre-relationship, cw language (just a tad)

“Heat should go fuck himself.”

You cursed, teeth chattering uncontrollably, “Shortcut, my ass!”

Killer trudged silently beside you, although you could feel him also seething underneath his mask.

The snowstorm that the villagers warned your crew about was gradually getting stronger. The wind howled furiously, making the trees around you sway in a violent dance. 

The First Mate of the Kid Pirates hiked the sack of groceries further up his shoulder, “This won’t do. I think we need to find some shelter for the night.”

You sighed and agreed with him, keeping your eyes peeled for a place to take cover as you continued your trek through the woods. 

Both you and Killer struggled as the thick snow swallowed your boots with every step. The heavy bags of supplies you two were lugging around didn’t help either.

It was supposed to be a quick supply run for the Kid Pirates – and it was, for most of the crew members.

Those who had finished their businesses had made their way back to the Victoria Punk as soon as possible after Wire relayed a villager’s warning of an oncoming storm. 

You and Killer though, always had the longest supply run, being in charge of buying ingredients to feed all 32 members of your crew.

Heat had approached you two before he went back to the ship, handing you a crudely-drawn map showing a “shortcut” through the woods that, allegedly, would lead straight to the coast where the Punk was docked.

In hindsight, you should never have trusted him, seeing that today was the first day he had set foot on this island, just like the rest of you.

You let out a string of curses as your boot got caught on something buried deep in the snow. 

Killer immediately set down his belongings and came to your side, not hesitating at all as he plunged his bare hands into the snow to free your trapped foot.

“Thanks,” you told him.

“No problem,” came his curt reply, though his arms lingered around your waist to help you regain your balance.

You looked at your surroundings again, begging for something, anything, that could shield you from this wretched weather. 

You squinted through the fog, and excitedly tugged on your companion’s sleeve, “Kil, I think there’s a cave up ahead!”

“Come on,” he took your bags, throwing them over his shoulder alongside his own, “Let’s get out of this fucking storm.”

The cave was not very big, but it was enough to fit both of you and your belongings comfortably. 

You shivered as you sat in the dark, dingy site, hugging your knees close to your body. Your wet clothes from the snow added to the chill that penetrated right into your bones. 

Your eyes followed Killer as he attempted to build a fire, using the branches he snapped from the tree just outside the cave. It took a lot of coaxing, and a fair amount of cooking oil you had just bought from the market, but he finally managed to get a small fire going.

The warmth that emanated from it immediately drew a relieved sigh out of you.

He threw in a couple more twigs and splashed some more oil to strengthen the blaze, then offhandedly said to you, 

“Strip.” 

“Excuse me?!” You sputtered, your body instantly overcome with heat that had nothing to do with the flame in front of you.

He started to take off his own shirt without a care in the world, “Do you want to get sick? Our clothes are soaked, we should let them dry by the fire.”

The urge to refuse was strong, but you knew that he was right. Killer had always been the most sensible man on the crew, and you weren’t about to start arguing with him now. 

“Fine!” You snapped as you started to take your clothes off reluctantly, “But I’m keeping my underwear on.”

Killer let out a snort, “Yeah, I’m not about to give you a free show either, sweetheart.” 

He laid out his shirt and pants by the fire, and finally, he reached up and unclasped his mask.

It was not the first time that you had seen Killer’s bare face, but you found your breath catching anyway when you glimpsed his striking blue eyes, his pointed nose, and his plump lips – always painted purple despite being hidden most of the time.

“Like what you see?” Killer smirked teasingly. 

He had expected a sharp and witty retort from you, which was why he was taken aback when all you did was shyly avert your eyes. 

Maybe it was the dark, firelit cave. 

Maybe it was the song of the winds still whistling outside. 

Maybe it was the sudden realization that you two were alone in this tight space in nothing but your underwear. 

Killer’s heart started to beat a little faster when he saw you awkwardly fiddling with your hair.

He had always found you good-looking, but now, sitting there with a bashful look on your face, lit by the orange glow of the fire – you took his breath away. 

He took a seat next to you, keeping a respectful distance between your bodies.

The frigid air settled on your skin, making you tremble wildly, teeth clacking together. You scooted closer to the fire, which inadvertently also brought you closer to him.

Killer watched you wordlessly for a moment, before finally calling out your name. He opened his legs, patting the space between them, “Come here.”

Heat spread to your cheeks at his invitation.

“Wh-what?”

“You’re freezing.” 

You hesitated.

Sure, it would be nice and warm and cozy to be wrapped inside his impossibly thick arms, but on the other hand, you weren’t sure your heart could handle it. 

Killer sighed, “Stop thinking so much and get your ass over here.” 

The unbearable coldness won out over your embarrassment, and you found yourself shuffling toward him.

You tentatively sat in front of him, your bodies barely touching.

A gasp left your lips when he swiftly pulled you in, pressing your back flush to his front. His arms circled you, enveloping you with a delicious warmth that mingled with your own body heat, intensified by his proximity. 

You froze in his embrace, heart thumping as fast as a racehorse. 

Killer’s breaths brushed your ear with each short and shallow exhale. 

When you glanced at him, you saw that his face was bright red. His eyes were looking everywhere but your mostly bare body against his. 

You found yourself relaxing further into him with a small smile, satisfied that you were seemingly not the only one flustered by this situation. 

You chuckled and shook your head, “I never imagined the first time I got to be in your arms would be like this – almost naked and half freezing to death.”

Oh, the cold must have frozen your brain. Why the hell else would you say that to him?

“You’ve… thought about being in my arms, then?”

You covered your mouth with your hand, mortified at being found out having romantic fantasies about your Commander, “Please forget I ever said anything.”

Killer laughed. 

The sound echoed through the cave’s walls – that sound he claimed to despise, yet you found exceptionally endearing. 

A grin made its way to your face at this rare opportunity to hear his sweet, sweet laughter. 

“Just so you know,” he whispered into your ears, “You’re welcome in my arms anytime. Even after we get out of here.”

As his arms tightened around you, his forehead resting in the crook of your neck, only one thought crossed your mind:

You better find Heat a damn good Christmas present.

a/n: first time writing for killer! gaahhh i love him so much

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ main event page || event masterlist ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

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[moonchild701]

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Secret Santa

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Summary: The League has a Secret Santa event and you get Dabi. Chaos ensues.

Pairing: Dabi/Gen Reader

Content Warning: Crack, Fluff, SFW, Quirked Reader (kinda like Blackwhip?), Endeavor Bashing(?)

Word Count: 1.7k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is the 2nd part of 12 fics for a 12 Days of Christmas event. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Prompt: Secret Santa

My Masterlist

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It's really Toga's fault.

Her wanting to celebrate Christmas wasn't really a surprise to anyone who knows her, because it really shouldn't be.

In Japan, Christmas is like another Valentine's day, where it's full of couples in love celebrating with each other, going into the new year.

It's also a time of family, one of which she no longer has, biologically speaking. Now with her new family, she wants to celebrate with them and show them how much she loves them!

And being the baby of the group, the others tend to indulge her when they can, letting her have a childhood as much as they can manage in their line of life.

So when she asked to decorate the bar, they let her.

When she asked to make chocolate chip cookies, Kurogiri made them right along with her.

When she asked to do a secret Santa exchange, they indulged her.

.....And that's where it went all wrong.

Because see, you got Dabi as the one you're to give a gift to.

You think anyone else might've been easier to find a gift for.

Shigaraki would've been easier. Just throw a new video game or game merch at him, and he'll be happy.

But Dabi? What the fuck does that man even like other than arson and revenge?!

You thought to maybe get him some new piercings or something but that just seems so....bland.

And it could work, could be enough for him, but it wouldn't be enough for him to you.

Not after nursing a festering crush on him for almost as long as you've known him.

So after agonizing for days over what to get him, with time ticking down, you resorted to asking the others for ideas.

What made you think asking criminals, murderers and psychopaths, would be a good idea, you don't know, but you did.

And maybe there's something to be said about you that you actually listened to their advice.

"Chocolates and confess!" Toga had said. You swear her pupils turned into hearts at the thought of love, and frankly, you were scared.

"A new fashion sense may do." Compress said, doing tricks with a deck of cards. You still don't know if he was joking.

"A gift with meaning, maybe something you have in common." Twice said earnestly, before immediately ruining it. "You, wrapped in nothing but ribbons. He'd love that!" And, well, you don't feel like simultaneously embarrassing yourself and getting burnt to a crisp so.....

"I can show you where I got my Stain merch!" Spinner said with stars in his eyes. The poor guy looked so dejected when you declined, but again, you like not being crispy.

"Some manners perhaps?" Polishing a glass, Kurogiri said it so seriously, you had to laugh. Again, you don't even know if he was joking.

"Just get him some more jewelry, hon. You can't go wrong there, right?" Of course Magne was the most sensible but it just wasn't enough! You may not want to outwardly confess your feelings but you still want to show it in some way; show him that you care.

And as a last resort, you turned to Shigaraki.

"Tch, I don't know, Endeavor's head on a pike? He's always complaining about him." Shigaraki said, eyes trained on his switch, barely paying you any mind. And yet, it was the most profound thing to you in your dumb, love sick mind.

Because of course that's what you should get him! His revenge on a silver platter! You won't take his revenge from him, stealing his kill and the satisfaction of it, but you can do something.

Now, a sane person would step back and think to themselves, hey. This is the Number Two Hero in the country. Mayhaps have a solid, sensible plan.

But alas, that was not you, for you are in love with a less than sane person, which absolutely made you at least half insane by osmosis.

So with a bright, chirped, "Thanks Shiggs!", you went on your way.

Shigaraki did not acknowledge this, nor did he process a word of this interaction.

*****

Mind set, you find your way to Endeavor's house. You would think that being such a huge public figure, he'd live in a secure, gated community at least. But no, he just lives in a giant house in a normal neighborhood, albeit on the wealthy side of the spectrum.

The traditional style of it is beautiful, if a bit gaudy, but you figure it comes with being Number Two.

At midnight, you sneak in. It's honestly pathetic how easy it is, with no alarms or anything going off.

Light on your feet, you make your way through the house. It takes a while, but you eventually find his bedroom.

The man, of course, sleeps like the psychopath he is.

Flat on his back, hands clasped over his stomach, without a blanket, feet hanging over the edge of the bed by his ankles.

He snores like a congested bear, so whatever sounds you might've made are drowned out.

The black tendrils of your quirk whip out, simultaneously snagging his wrists, arms, torso and legs, as a thick cord of it wraps tightly around his throat, holding him in place as he momentarily struggles, while you inject him with tranquilizer, only releasing him when he falls back unconscious.

You hum in satisfaction at your handiwork, before realizing you need a way to transport and store him.

A quick text to Kurogiri has you in one of the League's spare warehouses, making use of one of the empty shipping crates lying around as it's the only thing on hand that's big enough to fit him into.

Using your quirk, you lift him into it, not caring enough to be gentle, instead just kind of....tossing him in.

Closing the lid, you leave him overnight, knowing he'll stay unconscious, though still breathing thanks to the holes in the box.

The next day, you come back with supplies.

Earphones in, you listen to the news on Endeavor's disappearance, and the fact that there are no leads, satisfied as you get to work.

After trying to make him look somewhat presentable, sticking a shiny, blue bow to his forehead with gorilla glue, because his sweat kept making it peel off, you wrap and decorate the crate, trying to make it as pretty as you can given the circumstances, and you smile satisfied with your gift. He's pumped full of tranquilizer and quirk suppressants, wrapped up nice and tidy, so all that's left is to present him.

You hope Dabi likes his gift.

*****

Christmas day is soon upon you, and everyone is ready with their presents.

Tomura gets some prequirk game from Spinner and he lights up brighter than the Christmas lights Toga put up.

Compress gets a pair of pretty, gold cufflinks from Shigaraki.

Twice gets a book that he's been gushing about for weeks from Kurogiri.

Toga gets a case with vials of blood, within a bat themed purse from Magne.

Kurogiri gets a new wine set from Compress.

Magne gets a dress from Twice, handmade and pretty.

Spinner gets some Stain merch from Dabi, which...fitting but why the fuck do they know where to get them??

You get a pretty knife with intricate carvings on the handle from Toga.

The last one to receive their gift is Dabi, and you're nervous. You ask Kurogiri to transport you all to the warehouse, explaining that it can't fit in the bar and it might not be safe anyway, and all of them follow curiously, not knowing what to expect.

*****

Dabi looks at the giant, wrapped box with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

It's big. Bigger than what should make sense for a Christmas gift. It's wrapped meticulously in shiny, blue and black iridescent wrapping paper, topped with a giant, pearly white bow, and it sticks out like a sore thumb, looking out of place among the bland brown of the surrounding crates and grey, concrete walls and floors.

He feels an ominous presence from it, and is sorely tempted to just light it ablaze.

Glancing at your nervous yet excited smile, he decides against it....for now.

You gesture towards it, with a shaky, "Merry Christmas Dabi." He hums, walking cautiously towards it. He considers burning off the paper, but decides to keep to the tradition of tearing it apart like a child on, well, Christmas, to reveal the shipping crate.

He glances at you one last time, then opens the crate, before promptly bluescreening.

Because inside the crate is the last thing he expects.

Within it, Endeavor lays slumped, tied up, with a blue ribbon stuck to his forehead, drooling onto his chest.

The warehouse is completely silent, everyone in disbelief at what they're seeing.

You play with your fingers, twiddling your thumbs. "Do you like it?", you ask, all hopeful and sweet, like you didn't just gift someone a grown ass man in a box.

In the silence, your voice echoes, and it seems to be what they needed, because everyone snaps back into their bodies, realizing that oh. This is real.

"What the fuck..." is Dabi's first response, his voice shaky with bewilderment.

"Um...I also have Chocolates?" You laugh nervously. Maybe he doesn't like it.....

Suddenly, Dabi grabs your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours in a firm kiss, then pulling back to stare into your eyes. "You're mine now."

And you smile, dopey and bright. "Uh huh."

The moment is interrupted when Shigaraki finally reboots. "WHAT THE FUCK, WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU—" He begins to rant, but you cut him off, confused.

"Shiggs, you were the one that gave me the idea...." you say, brows furrowed.

Shigaraki looks positively baffled at the foreign truth you speak, a vein bulging at his temple.

"WHEN THE FUCK—" He starts again.

"WHILE YOU WERE PLAYING ON THE SWITCH?!?! TWO DAYS AGO!?! PAY ATTENTION WHEN PEOPLE ARE SPEAKING TO YOU DAMMIT!!"

In the background, eyes bright, Dabi kicks the crate, jolting the unconscious trash, and grins.

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[rawmeknockout]

Can we have some command trine x minibot!reader? Please and thank you, king 💕💕💕

Dweeb is the most apt description for the whole lot of them.

It's almost funny; you used to be so terrified of them. They're still intimidating. The most skilled fliers to ever come from Cybertron, capable of razing down Autobot forces like they're insects. More than once you've been at the business end of their null rays, barely escaping being shot down (usually due to your miniscule size in comparison). You're clearly no match for them one-on-one, despite being able to escape being offlined by the Decepticon seeker forces more times than you care to count. You don't know how many more dogfights you've got left in you before you're a little energon smear on Earth's crust.

In comparison to the Decepticons, you're a clumsy, amateur flier. Forged for carrying cargo, as opposed to Starscream, Thundercracker and Skywarp who are the pinnacle of fighter build. The first image that comes to mind when mechs think Decepticon. They're elite soldiers with a tight formation and more combat experience than most mechs. Probably because most mechs can't survive as long. More than once Sunstreaker has compared Skywarp to an organic cockroach; the sort of mech that won't die no matter how many punches he takes. They have so much combat experience that the more you run into them, the more you learn as a result. That's perhaps the only good thing to come from having contact with them as a flight frame.

One of the things you've learned is that all three of them are absolute dorks. Thundercracker is the most tolerable, sensible and calm when the others are lost in their feelings and schemes. He would rather take atrocious orders than give them. You begrudgingly find him handsome, with a smile that belongs on an ad for denta scrub as opposed to getting knocked clean off from throwing servos with the likes of Brawn. His optics sparkle when he reaches down to hold your small digits, something that should NOT set your lines ablaze. The fluttering in your circuits makes you want to purge.

Skywarp is a plain nuisance, on the battlefield and in everyday life. When he's not warping in your way and playing stupid pranks, he's picking you up in his stupid big arms and warping off with you. He uses his ability to an obnoxious degree, irritating not only you but everyone around him. The zzZZ-VOP of him materializing from nothing haunts your deepest nightmares. He is irritatingly giddy around you, dementedly giggling right in your audial when he curls his large build around yours. But, just as you are forced to tolerate him, Skywarp is steadfastly tolerant of everything you do. Even the harshest insults you can levy are nothing more than water off an Earth duck's back. He might be actually nice to hang out with, you might be able to laugh off his antics, if he wasn't so insistent on banging pelvic armor.

But the one you least understand is Starscream. You've spent so long analyzing his flight patterns, copying the sharp way he dips and dives through the air, trying to morph your frame's movements to match his grace and deadly skill. And yet you're still no closer to understanding the mech himself. Not that you're exactly part of logistics and strategy, you would rather leave that to Prowl, but it would be nice to know what in the hell you did to attracted Starscream of all mechs. Thundercracker and Skywarp were easier to understand, more Cybertronian. They were deadly but noticeably more alive, Starscream is like a scheming, plotting machine with only torment on his mind. If it didn't hurt another mech, why would he care? But, as little as you understand it, when he's not shrieking at the top of his vocalizer at his brethren, he's trying to sneak his treasonous claws into your servo. You've learned it's best to ignore this, even let him do it, because if you question him he'll blow your audials out with how little he thinks of you screamed at the top of his voice like a hawk. You also blithely ignore the way he struts around like a peacock, flaring his wings in a blatant attempt to attract your attention.

Where once you felt fear, loathing, and reluctant respect for the elite trine, now you just feel weary. Perhaps it's the curse of being a mini flier. There aren't a whole lot of your kind left, and it's not exactly a popular frame for construction. It's got to be the novelty of it. That's all you can think. Why else would they be bickering with you trapped in the middle, Starscream's claws bearing down on your poor shoulder armor while Skywarp squeezes you a tad too hard. Thundercracker doesn't help much, more focused on shouting the others down than saving you.

A pack of sqwaking hens.

Maybe in this next battle you'll be shot down and you can take a nice long rest in Ratchet's medbay. That sounds nice.

[cloudcountry]

Ahhh i dont really know how Tumblr works (this is my first time requesting someone) but i see that ur request was open

i want to request an academic rivalry trope hcs with riddle or Azul or both (bcs i absolutely LOVE the way u write them 😞 it makes me giggle)

Thank u in advance and have a great day or night (⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠)

SUMMARY: Riddle & Azul with an academic rival!!

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: omg i love you for this!!! this is one of my favorite tropes ever and these two are so emotionally constipated they wouldn't know what to do with themselves. i hope you have a lovely day too anon <33 and im so glad you like how i write them hehe azul is the loml so it means a lot when people say that!!

Riddle doesn’t know what to do about you. He feels so incredibly frustrated every single time you score higher than him on a test because he should be better. How can he pride himself in being Heartslabyul’s Housewarden if he can’t even be at the top of his class?

So what does he do with that frustration? He studies harder and harder because clearly he isn’t trying hard enough. His health deteriorated, and if it wasn’t for Trey, Riddle would be even more of a wreck.

Then he finally does it. All of that work culminates into Riddle finally scoring a point higher than you on his Magical History exam. He stares at the board smugly, really admiring his name above yours (which is how it should be, in his mind.)

You approach the board too, and he expects you to say something about how you’ll score higher than him next time or how you can’t believe he’s finally beaten you, but instead, you nod cheerfully and walk away.

You just walk away. You don't even look at him. You’re satisfied with yourself?! Riddle feels rage bubbling up in his chest, and he almost screams at you right there and then in the hallway. What is wrong with you?!

It doesn’t help matters when Crewel assigns a huge project that's to be completed by two people, and places you and Riddle together. He’s so hell-bent on avoiding you the entire time, even when your face grows annoyed at his inability to cooperate.

“This project is a long one, you know.” you tell him one day, staring daggers into the side of his skull, “It takes six months to complete. If you want to get a good grade you’ve got to lay down your pride and talk to me. I’m not put up with this for half a year.”

Riddle hates that you’re right. He hates it so much because he’s always supposed to be the sensible one. He’s studied the rules over and over and yet you stump him. You make him wrong.

Is he wrong to resent you for that? Is it wrong to want to destroy your pride? Is it wrong to hate that you seemingly get everything you’ve ever wanted so easily while he’s worked hard for it?

Is it wrong that he wants to cooperate so hard and so efficiently with you that you take back everything you said to him?

Azul wants to get you in his debt so BADLY. He isn’t at the very top of his class, no. That title belongs to Riddle, who has refused his offers for a contract time and time again. Maybe there’s something you want, though.

He will find it. He will examine you every day and pick apart every insecurity and moment of sadness. That smart little brain of yours may be good for tests, but when it comes to manipulation, you have nothing on Azul.

It’s a small comfort if nothing else. You may have the entire school wrapped around your finger and the Leech twins might be fascinated with you, but that doesn’t matter.

Well, it doesn’t matter until you show up at the Lounge of your own volition. Azul is shocked when he hears the twins call your name, and you enter his VIP Room looking far too calm.

Floyd almost hacks up a laugh from laughing too hard when you ask for tutoring. Azul is baffled as Jade snickers, wondering why the person who outscores Azul continuously would ask him for tutoring.

But this is his chance. And so he writes up a contract, asking for something vague because he doesn’t know what he’ll need from you yet but he’s certain you’ll come in handy in the future and suddenly—

You wrinkle your nose and hand the contract back to him, pointing at one of the conditions. “I don’t like that one. Change it.” you say, and Floyd starts cackling again because no one has ever read them that closely.

It’s a condition that states you will come to the Lounge whenever Azul summons you. It’s vague enough that the signer may not realize he truly means whenever, but outlined enough to make them assume that it only applies to the time frame in which the main part of the contract is in effect.

It’s sneaky, and you caught it. Azul’s eyebrow twitches as he stares at you, forcing a smile on his features. Why, of course he can change that for you! What would you like it to say instead? You should know that he’s on home turf right now, and he never loses in the comfort of his VIP Room.

[bl0ssom-skies]

Fear Written in Ink

Journaling is a rather useful thing. It's all Flaming Spice Cookie had been doing these days. As a matter of fact, he has been doing it for quite some time now. It was pretty useful in preventing outbursts... or accidentally setting something ablaze, which happened more times than he could count. Journaling It helped keep his mind clear amongst his rising instability. Especially now.

It was dusk. Flaming Spice Cookie was in his home office, he had gotten off of his shift about an hour ago. Normally, he'd be just as energized as he was at the start of his shift... but.. nowadays, he feels absolutely exhausted. His constant tension seemed to be draining that seemingly endless energy right out of him. He didn't even feel like eating anything this time around.

He simply opened up his journal, and began to write at his office desk.

It's been about a month since her majesty had succumbed to corruption.... the very scenario he dreaded horribly. His job as the general had gotten harder as well amidst the tension in the kingdom, the other heroes falling into corruption, and his own growing stresses and anxieties. He could barely stand to be around his own queen without feeling like he was on the verge of having something terrible happen to him. It wasn't exactly a pleasurable thing to experience.

As he wrote in his ink and tear stained journal, he began to wonder... should he leave the kingdom? The longer he stayed here, the more risk he'd be putting himself in after all...

But... he is the general! What kind of general abandons the people and the kingdom he was supposed to help protect? That was his job, his duty... What kind of leader would do such a thing?!

....

... well.... he certainly knew a few that did just that.

If Flaming Spice Cookie was sensible, he would have left the moment she became corrupt, just as some of the citizens did... but he didn't.

He had a feeling it would be quite difficult for him to get away without any troubles, and he was blinded by his desire to protect the people he didn't even truly belong with. A desire he had ever since he succumbed to the same fate of corruption... Ever since he watched his own people die in front of his very eyes— and by the witches, if he had the power, he would break those soul jams into a MILLION LITTLE PIECES AND—

And...

Ah, goodness.. he must've gotten caught up in his thoughts again.

His hair was beginning to flair up too. Great. Flaming Spice Cookie sighed. He set his quill in its holder, and gently closed the journal. He sat there, taking a few rounds of deep breaths as his head rested in his hands. He soon slowly opened his eyes, bringing himself back to reality.

His hair was back to its normal size and brightness once again.

"Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to make myself some dinner..."

he muttered to himself as he slowly got up from his desk. He put out the candle that illuminated his desk area, and walked out of his office. His tired eyes looked out into his living room. A cozy, warm, and quaintly decorated space. Perhaps he could make himself some curry... he does have some spices ready for harvesting in his garden after all.

He walked onto his back porch, and looked up at the dark, starry skies above. He would usually feel at peace watching the stars shine down through the clear inky skies... but he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over him. He dreaded tomorrow.

It seemed as though this cycle of heroism and corruption would never end.

.

.

.

Wanted to write a lil short something since it's been a hot minute, and school has been messing with my motivation to write lol

There is something hidden in the text, it may be a bit obvious, but I wonder if you can find it? :)

(Au by @cuppajj!)

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Oh we are so BACK

When I tell you I saw this and died. HELLO?????

I keep hiding my face lahshjsdhjgfsaf HE HAS NO RIGHT. NO RIGHT AT ALL BEING THAT SEXILY INTENSE AAAAAAAAAAA

Anyway, I should probably try to make some attempt at describing the event since. If I don't I'll just be barking/crying/hiding my face for the next twelve hours.

Basically--and I'm not sure this is going to be across the board, but it held true for Napoleon and Sebastian at least--each suitor has a birthday event this year instead of a separate story. Comte's won't be released until tomorrow, but they have posted a preview.

From what I gather, he talks a little bit about himself and reveals parts of his past that haven't come to light in the game yet. There wasn't really enough to convey a coherent narrative beyond attending a party, but the line displayed here does get across the larger theme:

Comte: (I don't need momentary pleasure or ephemeral affection any longer. Now that I know love, there's nothing but you.)

He talks about how the aristocracy have thrown parties and extravagant celebrations for his birthday for most of his life. But none of it has ever really made him happy, largely because he knows that they are attempts to strengthen and broadcast power relations within high society. While I don't think he means it's entirely devoid of well wishes, I do think he sees it as a nexus of influence--and thus, by nature, impersonal. And honestly, I don't think he's wrong about that; the higher the echelon in social standing, the more it requires performance to maintain the position.

That being said, there is a fascinating flashback where he remembers a pureblood telling him about how falling in love with a human is an experience of another caliber entirely. My understanding is that Comte was still a fairly young vampire at the time, so he didn't really understand what the person was getting at. It seems like the other pureblood was trying to convey the difference in feeling, perhaps the fact that humans are more grounded in accordance with how they live--the reality and necessity of change.

After reading this--and the recent 5th bday story--I can absolutely see how change is something Comte has a complicated relationship with. He's known a certain way of life for so long, has constructed a sensibility of distant, rational maturity. After all the heartbreak of his youth, and two very acute traumatic events in his life, I can see why he'd be so afraid of broaching any kind of proximity with another person. Because on some level it's so much easier not to put your feelings on the line, to never have to fear devastating loss. And that's to say nothing of the worry of being unable to measure up on behalf of another person, of letting them down.

I'm so excited to see the rest of the contents, but something about the preview made me equal parts giddy and enamored (all I do is kick my feet with excitement LOL). I think what gets to me with Comte is that he truly does love companionship as a place to rest, a place where he can be honest about himself and his feelings without fear of ridicule (and the same goes for MC). In a world increasingly obsessed with surface level performances of power, status, and emotion, it's hard not to feel his exhaustion to the core.

Also, because these lines at the end more or less destroyed me in the best possible way:

MC: ...The you who had nowhere to belong no longer exists. In much the same way...Abel, I belong to you. Comte: ... Comte: I wish I could say to myself all those years ago, the me who kept indulging in such paltry things. Comte: Until you meet MC, you will never know love... The warmth of MC in my arms filled me with such joy I was near tears. (I don't need momentary pleasure or ephemeral affection any longer. Now that I know love, there's nothing but you.) The moment my lips found hers, the sweetness lit a fire deep in my body. Comte: These cute lips that melt against mine, the heat of your skin, the love that envelops me in your embrace--always leaves me so deeply in love with you.

[unfortunatetheorist]

Is Klaus' legal logic of The Bad Beginning sensible?

* Joint Theory: @unfortunatetheorist with @snicketstrange *

Klaus's speech to the audience during the events of The Bad Beginning had a carefully thought-out structure, anchored in deeply rooted legal, but more so ethical, principles. In defence of his sister, who was forced into a marriage, Klaus appears to have adopted a multifaceted approach to challenge the marriage's validity.

Firstly, John Locke.

John Locke was one of the first people to suggest that humans have natural rights. He also wrote a book about this called the 'Two Treatises of Government'.

Klaus likely invoked John Locke's arguments on natural rights to contend that the marriage was not consensual and, therefore, violated his sister's fundamental rights to life and liberty. The idea that the bride must sign "with her own hand" is interpreted here not literally, but as an indicator of action "of her own free will," supported by Locke's principles.

Secondly, Thurgood Marshall.

Thurgood Marshall was the first black Supreme Court Justice of the USA, who fought for the rights of black citizens against Jim Crow's extremely racist ideologies.

His defence of the 14th Amendment may have been used by Klaus to argue that, in cases of ambiguity or doubt, the judge's decision should lean towards protecting the more vulnerable party. This point strengthens the point that, if there is doubt about the how valid Violet's consent is, the legal and ethical obligation is to invalidate the marriage. The 14th Amendment to the United States Constitution is crucial for establishing constitutional rights and consists of various clauses. The most relevant for Klaus's case is probably the Equal Protection Clause, which states that no state may "deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws." Klaus may have leaned especially on this clause to argue that, in situations of uncertainty, i.e. his sister's forced marriage, the interpretation/application of the law should be done in a manner that protects (in this case) Violet. This would align with the principles of the 14th Amendment, using it for equal protection under the law to invalidate the marriage and protect his sister's rights.

Third, Ida B. Wells.

Ida B. Wells was, similar to Thurgood Marshall, an early civil rights campaigner, who campaigned for anti-lynching (a word which here means, opposing the brutally violent act known as lynching).

Klaus likely drew inspiration from Ida B. Wells to assert that everyone has the right to be heard and protected by authorities, regardless of their age or origin. This argument would serve to legitimize his own standing as his sister's defender in court, neutralizing any potential prejudice against him for being a child or, perhaps, belonging to a minority (he and his sisters are Jewish).

Moreover, the presence of a judge at the ceremony should not be viewed as merely a formality, but a control mechanism to ensure mutual consent, something that resonates strongly with Locke and Marshall's ideals about the role of government and law. Thus, if either of the spouses gave any evidence to the judge that the marriage was conducted under duress, the judge would be obligated to invalidate the marriage. Violet's chosen signal was to sign the document with her left hand instead of her right hand. As the judge explained, the marriage could be invalidated due to this discreet yet appropriate signal.

Lastly, the word "apocryphal" that Lemony uses to describe Klaus's argument suggests a non-conventional but insightful interpretation of the law, something that seems to echo Marshall's "doubtful insights" and Wells' "moral conviction." Instead of resorting to literalism ('literally' - with her own hand, i.e. Violet's dominant hand), Klaus's argument was much deeper and grounded, touching on the very essence of what legislation and the role of judges are. That's why Justice Strauss was so fascinated by the young boy's speech.

In summary, the historical references evidence that Klaus wove these diverse elements into a cohesive and compelling argument, utilising the legacy of these thinkers to question and, ideally, invalidate his sister Violet's forced marriage.

¬ Th3r3534rch1ngr4ph & @snicketstrange,

Unfortunate Theorists/Snicketologists

[juniperss]

Band of brothers medieval au ,that's just a thought...

anon, your mind….lets take this a step further if you don’t mind me doing so:

knights of the round table au. Now I’ll be honest and admit that my knowledge on King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table is entirely sourced from BBC’s Merlin so you’ll have to bear with me BUTTTTTTTTTT

“We would fight a thousand armies with our bare hands for you. We are never alone. We stand together." -Elyan to Arthur

In this AU I clearly picture Richard as Arthur. Just as in Band of Brothers, we see how quickly Easy Company (led by Lipton and so on) admit they would rather be transferred (or even killed) than to have to serve under Sobel. It’s clear from the beginning who the loyalty of the Company belongs to and that is Winters.

Now there aren't enough Knights of the Round Table to have each member of Easy Company, so I'm going to divide Easy into the Archetypes of each Knight that they most reflect in either all or most aspects (in my opinion!) -Sir Gwaine Archetype: "I think we have no chance. But I wouldn't miss it for the world." Bold, seeing the best in others, flirtatious, confident, fiercely loyal, humorous, throw hands first and ask questions later, and believed that people should be defined by what they did rather than who they were [Guarnere, Toye, Speirs, Talbert] - Sir Lancelot Archetype: "It is not just his deeds that we'll never forget. It is his courage. It is his compassion. His unselfish heart." Kindhearted, compassionate, courageous, humble, loyal and self sacrificing. [Lipton, Roe, Malarkey] -The Sir Elyan Archetype: "He's [Elyan] just one of those types of people, never settles down, never thinks about the future. Just follows his heart wherever it takes him." Affectionate, adventurous, loyal, brave, kind to others, cunning and quick on their feet, giving. [Muck, Skip, Nixon, Liebgott, Luz] -The Sir Leon (THATS MY MAN!) Archetype: "I have fought alongside you [Arthur] so many times, there is no one else I would rather die for." Steadfast, loyal, sensible, knew the difference between courage and foolishness, outspoken, humorous, good natured, self sacrificing for the greater good [Martin, Buck, also Lipton] -The Sir Percival Archetype: "Your enemies are my enemies" Quiet, man of few words, skilled, brave, gentle and softhearted, decisive, mischievous in the right company. [Shifty, Bull, Babe, Skinny]

Prince Richard presents his plan to stop an evil that has grown so powerful and destructive that he isn't sure he can actually succeed but he vows that he will try anyway. He doesn't ask his friends for help, but one by one they pledge their aid to him.

The Knights that Richard chooses aren’t all nobility nor are they approved by the King. They are simply men who have shown unwavering loyalty and love to him, they are men he trusts. And they are there when he has no one else, and they commit themselves to his cause knowing full well that they might not survive. Their numbers aren't many (only 5 Knights with any skill in battle and 3 honorary members) but they are steadfast and skilled.

After Richard establishes the Knights of the Round table, he would later abolish The First Code of Camelot that states that only men of noble blood can be Knights. After all, blood does not make the man. It's his actions and loyalty that do.

I do absolutely adore the idea of the Knights (Easy) wearing red cloaks and armor like the Knights do in Merlin. It's so dramatic and I think it should be allowed *bangs gavel*

Something something the Knights were so deeply loyal to one another that it bordered on something more than platonic something something the dedication to one another that after the death of their leader there was too much grief to continue on something something.....

While the Knights are meant to be a symbol of the realm and its power, I also see them as representative of the common people, especially in the BBC Merlin version after the Round Table is established. These are men who have come from varied backgrounds and experiences and there's not a way that they wouldn't be seen as what could be for the future.

watch this video and tell me i'm wrong (pls don't tell me i'm wrong)

[kinnbig]

50 for KinnBig

50 - a goodbye kiss that says ''I don't love you the way you love me, and I'm setting you free''

When Porsche’s voice travels in from the hallway outside, Big pretends to be asleep.

His door crashes open a moment later, and then two sets of footsteps are approaching his bed. One set is slightly hesitant, awkward; belonging, Big assumes, to Porsche.

The other footsteps, Big would know anywhere.

“Oh,” Porsche is saying, “the nurse outside said he’d been awake today.”

“He’s just had major surgery,” Kinn says gently, “he’s going to need a lot of rest.”

His voice is low and contemplative, almost soft, and Big has to fight to keep his face still, force himself not to throw open his eyes and look, not to drink in every expression that crosses Kinn’s face, not to gasp his presence into his lungs like a man drowning.

It’s embarrassment that keeps his eyes firmly shut.

He doesn’t think he could look Porsche in the eye, look Kinn in the eye. Not now, not after what he said. After what he did.

It’s quiet for so long that Big wonders if he didn’t actually fall asleep and miss them both leaving.

Porsche breaks the silence with uncharacteristic uncertainty. “Why do you think he did it?”

Big suppresses a flinch.

Khun Kinn loves you so much.

Kinn sighs. “He’s an excellent bodyguard.”

Usually Big would be delighted with the praise. Today it sinks into his stomach, aching with something akin to grief.

Porsche doesn’t say anything to that. Big hears him scuffing his foot against the ground.

“Maybe we should come back later,” he says eventually, “when he’s awake.”

“Of course,” Kinn says, “you go ahead. I need to double check with the nurses about security.”

Big hears Porsche hum his agreement and shuffle to his feet, and then the door is swinging shut behind him and Big is alone in the room with Kinn.

The air feels thick with it; with Kinn; settling heavy on Big’s rib cage and making it hard to breathe.

Kinn’s hand settles on his shoulder. It burns like a brand.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Kinn says softly, “for what you did for Porsche.”

Big’s chest aches.

He doesn’t open his eyes.

It wasn’t for Porsche, he wants to shout, you know it wasn’t for Porsche.

Kinn squeezes his shoulder.

“You were right - I love him. I love him more than is sensible, and I - thank you.”

Kinn moves closer, and Big senses what’s about to happen milliseconds before it does. Kinn’s lips brush his cheek; light, chaste, gentle; and Big’s eyes flutter open involuntarily as Kinn pulls away.

He doesn’t look surprised to meet Big’s clearly conscious gaze. He just nods, formal and final, and collects his jacket from the arm of his chair.

“Take care of yourself, Big.”

He doesn’t say goodbye.

He doesn’t need to.

It was for you, Big lets himself admit into the emptiness he leaves behind, it’s always been for you.

kiss prompt ficlets 💖

[toujokaname]

Game master / Episode 14

Author: Akira

Characters: Aira, Kohaku, HiMERU, Hiiro

"Of course, HiMERU doesn't have emotions such as fear."

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Season: Winter

Location: Mountain Hut

About an hour later. The second checkpoint in the test of courage showdown, an abandoned house.

Aira: Ahhh, no way no way no way.... I didn't become an idol to get scared like this!

I just wanna go home alreadyyy! Munch on some convenience store food, and catch up on idol livestreams from the safety of my couch!

Kohaku: Yeah... I was real excited 'bout the test of courage and feelin' pumped, but now that I'm settlin' down, it's gettin' kinda spooky...

Even though I've got good night vision, it's gettin' too dark to see anythin'.

HiMERU: Thankfully, the weather is good amidst the misfortune, but when you enter places where the starlight doesn't shine through, it's like blindly feeling your way through the dark.

Aira: This place really has those countryside vibes, with no artificial lights at all. It takes me back to visiting my grandma's place in the past.

Hiiro: Aira's grandmother was from a country called France, right?

Aira: Yeah... It's not as rural as the Amagi Village, but all we had around our house were vineyards for making wine.

I remember hearing what seemed like wolf howls back then, it was super scary.

Kohaku: Now that ya mention it, there ain't any signs of wild animals or insects in this Amagi Village.

Though there's a presence within the buildings, it's likely just the villagers.

Aira: The villagers are kinda creepy too...

It's typical of a backward village, but besides that Takashi-kun who's a Hiro-kun lookalike, everyone else is holed up indoors, not even peeking out.

Hiiro: I think everyone's just cautious because outsiders are rare.

But, I was also concerned about what Oukawa-san pointed out.

Kohaku: Bit late for this, but quit callin' me “Oukawa-san," like I'm some stranger. Kohaku's fine.

Hiiro: Umu. I was also concerned about what Kohakucchi—

Kohaku: I didn't allow ya to go that far?

Aira: Stop! Only I can use that nickname! No stealing!

HiMERU: Fufu. It's scarier when people are silent, so it's helpful to talk even about trivial topics.

Of course, HiMERU doesn't have emotions such as fear.

Kohaku: You some kinda robot or somethin', HiMERU-han?

Aira: I have a theory that HiMERU-senpai's the most scared out of all of us... For some reason, he always hangs back where he can use someone else as a shield, never in the front...

HiMERU: Isn't this the most sensible arrangement? Given that HiMERU lacks the night vision of Oukawa or Hiiro-san, wouldn't he be inadequate to lead the way?

Kohaku: You're always so quick to make excuses...

Hiiro: Hehe. Well, it might be that the lack of signs of wildlife is the villagers' consideration. Maybe they've already removed them so we won't get inadvertently attacked.

But what we should be concerned about more than such trivial discomfort is that the ghost story Mayoi-senpai told us is gradually becoming more believable.

Aira: Yeah... I wanted to believe it was just nonsense to freak us out, but...

We're following the exact route they told us to take.

And yet there are still traces of the staff from the paranormal show, who got caught up in the mysterious phenomena.

Though it's probably all set up by Rinne-senpai and the other scarers... Even at the last checkpoint, there was something like a staff member's notes placed there.

HiMERU: Just like the account told in the notes, we stumbled upon vinyl strings and carvings left by the staff as markers.

Aira: Carvings? Were there really?

HiMERU: There were scratches on a tree made with a knife or something similar. It had dates and names presumably belonging to the staff of the paranormal program carved into it.

Naturally, those dates and names matched the ones in the notes.

Since there's no internet connection in this village, we cannot be sure that people with those names were once real and are now missing.

—Along with other facts that cannot be verified.

Aira: S-So, those notes and everything, they're all just made up by the scarers, right?

HiMERU: Who knows... It seems too elaborate for that.

It's not something that can be done overnight, writing lengthy notes and leaving traces exactly as described.

And the scarers arrived in this Amagi Village at the same time as us. It's hard to believe they had time to prepare for such a test of courage.

Kohaku: Yeah... After arriving in the Amagi Village, Rinne-han and the others were with us the whole time.

Of course, given Rinne-han's status, he might've ordered these preparations from the villagers.

He's always dead serious 'bout havin' his fun, but why go through all this hassle? And even if he did, what'd be the point?

Aira: D-Did he really wanna freak us out this bad?

I bet Rinne-senpai's out there somewhere, laughing away from behind some bushes even now!

Kohaku: Hmm... Even Rinne-han ain't that nasty deep down— Mm?

Aira: W-What's wrong, Kohakucchi? Don't suddenly stop moving, or you'll startle me?!

Kohaku: My bad... Hmm~ Must've just been my imagination.

(I've been feeling strange gazes for a while now... Even if they're the guys tryna scare us, there's too many of them, no?)

(Maybe the bored villagers get a kick outta watchin' the dumbass idols from the city doin' dumbass things?)

Aira: Ugh~! Can we just get this over with already?

This test of courage showdown's just the fourth match, so Matrix isn't even halfway through, right?

It'd be stupid to use up all our energy and strength being scared here. I wanna wrap up the unpleasant work quickly!

Kohaku: Right. In fact, it'd ruin the atmosphere if it gets light in the mornin'. We gotta get through the checkpoints as soon as possible.

HiMERU: Yes. The Amagi Village is smaller than expected, so it's fortunate that there isn't much distance to cover.

HiMERU: (But even that feels slightly offputting.)

(Based on Rinne's previous remarks, HiMERU had predicted that his hometown would be much larger—the size of a nation, even.)

(Has he been carelessly trusting of Rinne's penchant for grandiosity, overestimating its authenticity?)

[ ☆ ]

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[terrence-silver]

what would terry's reaction be to beloved refusing to cry or be vulnerable with him? we know he lives by showing no weakness, even in front of beloved, but would it change if beloved also refused to? would it be different if beloved was a woman/man?

Ironically, he would feel bereft.

And make no mistake, beloved will cry.

Why? Because Terry will make them cry.

They won't even know he has an premeditated agenda as it happens.

He'll make them cry because he artificiated a situation that'll upset them so much they'll sob up and he can watch and then swoop in and be the big damn hero as he comforts them and fixes whatever it was he himself caused purely to see those beautiful, delectable tears. He'll make them cry as he fucks them because of how good and orgasmic it feels when he edges them and pounds into them while they beg him to cum and he denies them the release some more just on the off chance he gets to witness those shiny, sad, pleading eyes. He'll make them cry in sheer joy due to how happy he's made them about something and they get emotional, unable to contain themselves. He'll make them cry in every way possible and it will happen and he'll be there to relish every moment of it, because those tears? Much like everything else about beloved? Those tears, they belong to him. He feels entitled to seeing them. Experiencing them. Controlling the narrative of how and when they take place. Whenever and however he wants to. Drawing them out of beloved bit by bit whether they want to or not and whether they're even aware it is happening as it is happening. He feels it is his ultimate right to being the only one who causes them, sees them, wipes them away, savors them --- licks them. You name it. He might just say how they should be open with each other, always, giving beloved a sense of safety so they could laugh, giggle, scream or cry in front of him of their own volition without inhibitions, because he's here for them, for whatever they need. Oh, yes. Cry. How delightful. How perfect.

One set of rules for Terry, another set of rules for beloved entirely.

Because there's an explanation as to why Terry Silver lives by a 'no weakness, no mercy' mantra and he very firmly, to the very core of his being, believes he's justified in certain things the way others might not be. Life has taught him these lessons for a reason and then he taught himself how to embody them fully. He became hardened and tough for a reason as well. He didn't do it just for show. His reason is the war. Vietnam. His career in the military. His own personal worldviews. The martial arts style he lives by as a result of that, which is infinitely more than just a way of fighting --- it's a way of life. With an almost cult-like connotation. If he doesn't cry openly, it's because men, or rather, men like him in particular, don't cry. Not anymore anyway.

Again, he understands it's hypocritical and doesn't particularly care.

When beloved does the same, yeah, he feels he's denied a very crucial access to them and that won't do. That just won't do. He views it as direct challenge fuel. He feels he has to reprogram them until they're sobbing putty in his hands. He feels there's a wall up that he must demolish. Demolish it he does, brick by brick and nobody discovers just how sinister the connotation of what he's done really is; beloved might just be there, getting all misty eyed because Terry's bought and remembered some very special gift they've always said they wanted, not even realizing that the only gift Terry craves for here like a starving animal is the sight of their tears as they unbox the present. By the end of it all? Beloved will be so vulnerable in front of them they'll feel this is precisely the way things should be, feeling infinitely glad they've Terry there to understand their sensibilities (never opening their eyes to the fact he's caused, fueled and cultivated all of them).

[princesscolumbia]

So as I write this it's the 22nd of July, and that means that I've lost nearly 2 weeks of quality writing time. My goal had been to get through a full month's worth of backlog for Code of Ethics on the Mon./Thurs. release schedule before switching over something else, probably knocking out a short story or two before turning the crank on Goldrush, CO.

That, obviously, isn't happening.

So as my hand is still feeling kinda burny if I hold it wrong and the pain slowly ratchets more and more if I type too much, it looks like I may have just enough time to finish one #AU Roulette 2024 entry before jumping into something else.

If you missed my post on #AU Roulette 2024, here's the story ideas I came up with based on the prompts I got for the event:

Divine Beans - Donut Joe is getting on in years and expanded his offerings from his beloved donuts to include coffee, and in the years since he's catered to many, many customers...but none quite so unusual as the two that showed up on the twentieth anniversary of Princess Twilight's coronation. Big Enough - Adora's retiring. After nearly a decade of hunting down rogues and outlaws, she did one too many jobs that made her feel dirtier than a pair of riding boots at the end of a long ride. She finds a small town that's not likely to have ever heard of her and moves out to live out the rest of her days...but doesn't expect one of the most notorious gang leaders she'd ever faced to be in the same little town. In Plain Sight - Sunset is the producer of the show 'Un/Known,' where the hosts seek to prove or disprove the existence of ghosts and cryptids. The hosts are the ever sensible Applejack, known for her down-to-earth attitude, skepticism of the supernatural, and methodical approach to their investigations and the wildcard Rainbow Dash, ever ready to charge right in and ready to believe in even the wildest supernatural stories. Behind the scenes, Rarity does their make-up and wardrobe. Fluttershy is the animal wrangler, often discovering that a 'haunting' was just a poor critter that wandered where it didn't belong. On both the technical advisory side and the in-field editor angle is Twilight Sparkle, also known to their fans as "SciTwi," who brings a level of lore knowledge and research that boggles even the most die-hard believers in their audience. Pinkie Pie is...there. Nobody's quite sure what she does or how she follows them from shoot to shoot, but she's not on the payroll and apparently is completely oblivious to the fact that she's on a show, she just insists on "hanging out with her friends." To everyone's frustration, she's not a cryptid. What none of the rest know is that Sunset is a cryptid. An alien to this universe, to be specific. She's been able to keep this a secret for years now...but there's a report of a new cryptid appearing in the form of a tall, willowy woman (with "Big Mom energy" according to a local witness) in exactly the small, suburban town she first arrived on this world in, and worse, she suspects she knows exactly who the new 'cryptid' is.

So which of these three short stories should I hammer out in the time between when my hand stops burninating and the end of the month? (I'm leaning toward "In Plain Sight," but you all probably know I'm a total slut for "Momlestia adopts Sunset")

Want to vote? Head on over to my Patreon and let me know in the members-only poll. It's in the free tier, so you don't have to drop any money to pitch in with your opinion.