#from someone who said they enjoyed the content ?????

[harrysfolklore]

matchmaker - op81

summary: oscar finds a puppy wandering around the streets of monaco that leads him to meet his lucky charm

folkie radio: AN OSCAR FIC FINALLY OMG!!!! i have to say thank you to @cambrayficsrecs for sending this idea !! i LOVED IT and i hope you like this

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, yourbff and 209 others

yourinstagram meet the newest monaco resident: arlo 🤍 swipe to see the goodest boy helping me settle in my new home 🐾

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yourbff HE'S PERFECT!! miss you already but so happy for you 😭

username1 the cutest addition to monaco!!

username2 remember when you said you'd never get a dog? 😂

alexandrasaintmleux my new favorite neighbor!!! can't wait for our puppy playdates 🤍

↳ yourinstagram arlo and leo are going to be bffs 🥹🥹

username3 told you moving to monaco was the best decision

username4 i'm visiting asap just to meet this angel

yourbff2 can't believe my best friend lives in monaco now

username5 you're living the dream with the goodest boy!

username6 look at that face!! when can i visit?

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texts between alex and yn

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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 583,827 others

oscarpiastri Enjoyed being a temporary dog dad today 🐾 glad this good boy made it back home safe! might have to get one of my own now...

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username1 MY HEARTTT

username2 OSCAR YOU CAN’T DO THIS

maxverstappen1 Don't let lando see this

↳ landonorris too late. getting a dog.

mclaren Best teammate and dog sitter 🧡

username3 OSCAR WITH A PUPPY THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username4 the wholesome content we needed today

alexandrasaintmleux arlo already misses his rescuer! thanks again oscar 🤍

username5 get this man a dog asap

username6 the way he took care of a stranger's dog 🥺

username7 okay but imagine oscar with his own puppy

username8 JUST GET A DOG

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yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies:

yourbff ARLO OMG 🥺🥺 what happened to him?

↳ yourinstagram sneaky little minx disappeared from the balcony.. he’s safe tho

username1 omg poor you! good thing you found him

username2 is this knight in shinning armor who saved arlo cute?

↳ yourinstagram STOP 😭

username3 i need to visit so i can meet arlo

alexandrasaintmleux I could give you his insta… or his number 👀

↳ yourinstagram STOP IT ALEX

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texts between alex and yn

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 28,724 others

yourinstagram turns out the nice guy who found arlo last week also happens to be pretty good at driving cars 🏎️ congrats on p2! @/oscarpiastri

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username1 GIRL WHAT IS YOUR LIFE RN

username2 you move to monaco and suddenly you're in f1 garages???

alexandrasaintmleux told you you'd love f1 🤍

↳ yourinstagram love you !

username3 OMG OSCAR

username4 SHES THE OWNER OF THE DOG

username5 this plot twist though 👀

mclaren 🧡

username6 the way this all started because arlo escaped

charles_leclerc I won you know? 🤔

↳ yourinstagram congrats charles !

username7 YOUR LIFE IS A MOVIE

username8 the best meet cute ever??

oscarpiastri Couldn't have done it without my good luck charm 🐾

↳ yourinstagram arlo says you’re welcome!

username9 IS THIS THE OWNER??

username10 the cutest storyline of the season

username11 THE WAY HE COMMENTED

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oscarpiastri sent you a direct message

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liked by username1, username2 and 14,826 others

f1gossip Oscar Piastri spotted having coffee with the owner of the now-famous beagle puppy in Monaco this morning 👀

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username1 THE WAY THIS STORY KEEPS GETTING BETTER

username2 from rescuing her dog to coffee dates we love this journey

username3 this is better than drive to survive

username4 THEY’RE SO CLOSE HELLO

username5 this is the cutest thing ever help

username6 the fact that the dog is there too 😭

username7 someone check on lando he's losing his bachelor buddy

username8 the good luck charm strikes again

username9 living a wattpad story fr

username10 HE LOOKS SO HAPPY

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and 47,935 others

yourinstagram turns out there's more to monaco than just fancy cars 🤍

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username1 THE WAY YOU MOVED TO MONACO AND IMMEDIATELY LIVING A ROMCOM

username2 OSCAR?????

username3 arlo the ultimate wingman

username4 this storyline keeps getting better

username5 OMFG WHAT IS THIS I NEED THE CONTEXT

alexandrasaintmleux told you he was cute 😌

↳ username1 OMFG ALEX

↳ username2 i love her

↳ charles_leclerc 😂😂😂

username6 need full story time asap

username7 the way this all started because she lost her dog 😭

username8 living for this plot development

oscarpiastri arlo approved ✅

↳ username1 OSCAR STOPPPPP

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texts between oscar and yn

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liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 986,033

oscarpiastri Great weekend with the team 🧡 Ready to head back home to Monaco though... missing my favorite good luck charm 🐾"

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username1 OSCCCC

username2 is he talking about the dog? 😭

landonorris which one? 👀

↳ oscarpiastri 🤫

↳ username1 HELLO???

↳ username3 DECODE THIS

alexandrasaintmleux someone's eager to get back 😌

↳ charles_leclerc Your matchmaking services working well

↳ username1 LET ME INNNN

georgerussell63 The power of puppy love

username3 WE ALL KNOW WHICH GOOD LUCK CHARM

username4 the way he said "home" to monaco 🥺

username5 did anyone else catch him waving to someone on facetime after the race??

username6 some of this comments saying “the dog” his name is ARLO and he’s an icon

username7 i’m going to call it right now oscar is dating the dog owner

username8 OSC 😩

yourinstagram 🤍

liked by username1, username2 and 8,739 others

f1gossipinsider Straight from Barcelona to dinner in Monaco... Oscar Piastri spotted at Le Grill with a certain someone 👀

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username1 THE WAY HE DIDN'T EVEN GO HOME FIRST

username2 man flew straight from barcelona to take her to dinner i'm crying

username3 not me zooming in to confirm it's her

username4 THATS DEFINITELY YN AND ARLO UNDER THE TABLE

username5 fastest post-race exit we've ever seen

username6 Le Grill?? Man's not playing around

username7 our favorite story continues...

username8 this man SPRINTED from the circuit

username9 the commitment >>>

username10 our boy's got his priorities straight

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texts between oscar and yn

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liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri and 45,099 others

yourinstagram turns out watching someone drive in circles for 2 hours isn't so bad after all 🏎️ proud of you @/oscarpiastri 🧡

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username1 OMGGGG

username2 look at little arloooo

francisca.cgomes So lovely meeting you! Welcome to the family ❤️

yourbff we have soooo much catching up to do

carmenmmundt You're a natural! Can't wait for Hungary

alexandrasaintmleux look who's becoming an f1 expert

↳ charles_leclerc Stop taking credit for this

↳ alexandrasaintmleux never 😌

↳ username1 HELLO??

username3 the WAGs adopting her immediately >>

username4 ARE THEY DATING??

username5 oh what a plot twist

username6 THIS IS GIVING ME LIFE

username7 so the key go getting an f1 driver to date you is getting a dog i see

username8 ARLO IS SO CUTE

oscarpiastri Best good luck charms ever 🤍

↳ username1 OSCAR STOP

↳ username2 i simply cannot do this

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liked by carlossainz55, yourinstagram and 1,099,832 others

oscarpiastri First Grand Prix Win. Incredible 🧡 Thank you to the two lucky charms who changed everything

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username1 IM CRYING

username2 HELLO TWO LUCKY CHARMS ??

landonorris GET IN THERE MATE!! Proud of you 🧡

alex_albon THATS MY BOY

username3 IS HE TALKING ABOUT ARLO AND YN??

username4 im actually sobbing

username5 man won his first race and chose to be THIS cute about it

username6 SOMEONE SAID HE KEPT SHOWING HER THE TROPHY

georgerussell63 CONGRATS OSCO 🙌🙌

username7 from monaco meet cute to whatever this is im crying

username8 THIS IS ADORABLE OSCAR HELLO

username9 not to be parasocial but he's so in love

username10 THE WAY ARLO WAS THERE FOR HIS WIN

yourinstagram we're incredibly proud of you 🤍

liked by username1, username2 and 10,877 others

f1gossip From first F1 win to celebration dinner - Oscar Piastri living his best life in Budapest tonight! Sources say he couldn't stop smiling and kept calling her "my girlfriend" to everyone 👀

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username1 OH MY LORD

username2 is this oscar "i don't like pda" piastri??

username3 I CANNOT BELIEVE MY EYES

username4 the way this all started bc she lost her dog...

username5 I NEED THIS TO HAPPEN TO ME

username6 this is how we find out oscar is not single anymore

username7 EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU ARLO

username8 lord i've seen what you've done for others

username9 the best meet cute in history

username10 THAT SHOULD BE ME

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 60,826 others

yourinstagram home sweet home with my favorite race winner (and his trophy that he definitely didn't make me pack extra carefully) 🏆✨ still pinching myself about this weekend 🧡

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username1 CRYING

username2 the way we all watched this love story unfold

username3 most precious f1 couple no debate

landonorris Mans giving away his caps now?? love's changed him

lilymhe cutest neighbors ever! dinner tomorrow? 🤍

↳ yourinstagram count on it!

username4 LOOK AT ARLOOO I CANT

username5 i can’t believe oscar has a gf now

francisca.cgomes you two are goals honestly

mclaren Our lucky charm is back home! 🧡

username6 remember when she didn't know what DRS was 😭

username7 she's literally living the dream

username8 how to go from dog mom to f1 wag: a novel

alexandrasaintmleux my biggest masterpiece 🥹

↳ charles_leclerc STOP TAKING CREDIT

↳ alexandrasaintmleux NEVER

↳ yourinstagram arlo was the real matchmaker

username9 HOW DO I GET THIS LIFE

username10 they’re so in love i can’t

oscarpiastri My two favorite things in monaco ❤️

↳ yourinstagram three* don't forget the trophy

↳ oscarpiastri Trophy’s just a bonus 😘

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 1,549,022 others

oscarpiastri To the best wingman and matchmaker in F1 - thanks for running away that day in Monaco. Changed my whole life 🐾❤️ (YN says I need to stop spoiling him but look at that face)

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username1 IM FULL PN SOBBING NOW

username2 ARLOOOOO🥹🥹🥹

alex_albon most successful matchmaker in monaco

mclaren Our honorary team member 🧡

username3 i love one fairytale love story

alexandrasaintmleux YOU’RE ALL WELCOME

↳ username1 alex 😭😭

↳ charles_leclerc you're still not getting credit for this

↳ oscarpiastri It was all Arlo

username4 HE CALLED HIM HIS WINGMAN 😭

username5 from runaway dog to f1 power couple

username6 netflix writing this down rn

username7 cupid who? we only know arlo

nicolepiastri ❤️

username8 most iconic f1 meet cute ever

username9 the real mvp of the season

username10 OSCAR DOG DAD

yourinstagram our matchmaker 🤍

[gloomwitchwrites]

i’ve only recently found ur acc and i’ve fallen in love! ur def becoming one of my inspo’s in writing my own fics!:D

now, what about t141 with an alt s/o who’s always dying their hair or piercing themselves? maybe it’s the first time they find reader doing said shenanigans, what would their reactions be? 🤔 i think soap would have the best one lol, but i’d love to hear what your thoughts about it! <3

Well, hello! Welcome! I'm happy you're here! Now, I had multiple people requests this very thing. I am answering one of those asks and the others will simply fall under this one (since they are all very similar). I did go with some variety here since being "alt" can mean a lot different things. I do have one with hair dying, one about showing off their taxidermy/skull collection, a metal concert, and forcing (Gaz) to have a makeover. I had lots of fun. Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings: established relationship, humor, fluff, swearing, hair dying, taxidermy, concerts, makeovers

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Jesus bloody Christ. What happened?” John stands in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes wide as he surveys the scene. “Did you murder someone?”

You stand hunched over like a gremlin in the shower, holding the handheld showerhead. The dye in your hair is circling the drain, but that’s not the only place is stains. The shower is going to need a good scrub as is the bathroom sink.

“I’m changing my hair?”

John blinks. “You told me you were going to a salon.”

“This is cheaper.”

His mouth opens and then promptly closes. You see the gears turning. John is reigning in the panic.

“It’ll come out,” you insist.

“Everything is red,” murmurs John.

“Only temporarily,” you insist.

“Are you talking about your hair or our bathroom countertops?”

“Are you mad?”

“No,” he says firmly, hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to shut the door and pretend that our bathroom doesn’t look like a crime scene.”

“I love you!” you call out as he starts shutting the door.

“I love you, too,” he sighs heavily. The door is nearly shut before it suddenly opens again. “Do I need to grab bleach from the store?”

“That would be great.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Stop moving,” you mutter.

“You’re gonna poke me in the fucking eye, love.”

“It’s just eyeliner. Calm down.”

“You’ve poked me already.” Kyle points at his eye. The white is slightly red with irritation.

Kyle’s gaze narrows, but you only tut, grasping the bottom half of his face with your hand. Squeezing his cheeks a bit, you tilt his face from side-to-side, observing your work. About half of his face is done. You’ve even added face piercings to his lips and nose.

The clothes were the easy part. Kyle was more than willing to put on what you picked out for him. It’s completely different from his tracksuits and jeans. He looks like he walked right out of the punk scene.

“You promised I could do your makeup.” You put a little whine in it, pouting your lip.

Kyle lightly grasps your wrist and tugs, removing your hand from his face. “I did,” he agrees. “But all this? Really?”

You’ve set out nearly every product you have, nearly covering the entirety of the bathroom counter.

“We have to match,” you insist.

Kyle’s mouth twitches slightly but he settles. “Fine. But you better make me the best-looking bloke in the joint.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“This is June.” You present the racoon skull to Johnny.

His eyes widen slightly. “Hello, June,” he greets.

You wait for the eventual frown, for the brief flicker of disgust, but it doesn’t come. Johnny isn’t drawing back or judging you at all. His attention is rapt—focused.

You gently return the racoon skull back to the shelf and point to a collection of preserved butterflies. “These were a gift from a friend.”

“They’re beautiful,” murmurs Johnny. “Do they have names?” He leans in, observing the display of colorful wings.

“No, but they do!” You enthusiastically gesture toward the rest of your collection. There are skulls and bones from all sorts of animals, preserved beetles, tentacles in jars, and even petrified fish bones.

Men say they want quirky, but when they get quirky, they run. Johnny though is entirely fascinated.

“Can I touch this?” he asks with an excitement that surprises you, pointing toward a beaver skull.

“Yes. It’s delicate though. I’m always fixing the jaw.”

Johnny lightly lifts the skull and brings it close to his face, slowly rotating it.

No. Johnny isn’t disgusted. He isn’t shaming you for your special interest. If anything, he’s fascinated.

You’re keeping him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The shredding of the guitar reverberates in your chest. It stirs your blood, sending waves of adrenaline through your limbs until even your fingers and toes twitch with anticipation.

The breakdown is coming, and with it will come a sea of bodies. They’ll crash against each other like a massive wave before descending into chaos, nothing but flailing limbs and gnashing teeth.

Already, the energy is pulsing, becoming a frenzy that will eventually burst.

You’ve never been in the middle of the pit before. You usually stay off to the sides or well out of the way, not wanting to receive an injury.

But now you have protection. Now, you have a bodyguard.

Simon stands right behind as your support and your shadow. This isn’t his scene, not that he doesn’t enjoy a metal show, but he could care less about throwing himself around in a pit. When you expressed the desire to do so, Simon agreed, but only if he joined you.

Sure, it might scare some people off, or deter others from getting too close, but Simon is supportive anyway.

He’s just a bit vicious. A bit protective.

The shredding rises. It’s time.

A pause.

Then everything crashes.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[chococara25]

Thanksgiving

AU where Buck woke up, thinking about Tommy and decided to cook for Thanksgiving, baking crusty pecan pies & pumpkin pies, delicious green bean casseroles and sweet potato gratins, cheesy cauliflower cheese with turkey bacon bits, creamy mashed potatoes and the classic stuffings.

After done with baking and cooking, he realized he had no one to give it to (Everyone would just give him weird looks if he brings everything to potluck Thanksgiving dinner, plus they had forbid him from cooking) and wondering if he should donate to the homeless shelters cos at least someone can sleep warm with a full stomach when Lucy Donato texted him out of nowhere complaining how everyone is swamped in calls all day long and how hungry they are including Tommy, who came in to cover someone's shift and EPIPHANY!! He can just give them to the 217 AND check on Tommy at the same time.

He starts to pack everything before separating some food into different containers and stick a sticky note on each of them. He then unload the bread loaves and cookies he had been making for the past week into a basket cos waste not, want not right?

Tommy coming back from a weird call involving some idiots trying to make turkey barbacoa in their backyard when he saw everyone gathering around the dining table, stuffing their face, moaning about the delicious food and praising the cook.

He was confused till he turned around to see Evan of all people staring at him, unruly curls and dark circles under his eyes.

"Hey. Lucy said you guys haven't eaten all day." Evan looked awkwardly at him.

(At the corner of his eyes, he can see Lucy slunking off guiltily, carrying a whole pie and weird a plate of cupcakes with her)

Evan looked as if he wanted to say something but looked away, his lips twisted unhappily. He pushed a bag full of containers and a basket full of bread and cookies at them before running away.

Tommy hid in one of the closets, checking the bag and basket, its contents each marked by a sticky note.

The Banana Loaf - "Everytime I think of calling you, I baked instead. Now my fridge is full but I'm still thinking about you."

The Snickerdoodle cookies - "Jee asked where cool uncle Tommy was. She misses her tea party partner."

Vanilla and raspberry mascarpone loaf cake - "I can't stop thinking how you would enjoy all the cakes and pastries I made for the past few months."

green bean casserole - "I still have your clothes and I kept wearing them to sleep cos its the closest thing I have to you because I have a hard time falling asleep without you holding me in your arms"

Carrot cake loaf - "I saw a helicopter today at work and I wonder if it was you flying it. We never did have that flying lesson."

cauliflower cheese - I'm sorry I never told you I love you when I really do. I love you and I missed every single minute the moment you walk out of my life.

pecan pie - I'm sorry I said the wrong things when I asked you to move in with me. I'm sorry I too much in the end for you and drove you away."

pumpkin pie - I'm sorry you felt pressured but I didn't lie, I really admire you and your confidence made me feel safe, being with you was like waking up for the first time from the lightning coma, I could breath again and you were the one who set me free.

sweet potato gratin - "You said you were my first but not my last. Tommy, you might be my first boyfriend but you definitely my last."

stuffings - "You are my beginning and my forever happy ending. I have no interest in looking for a different happy ending if you're not in it."

By the time he reached the last container, his eyesight were blurry with unshed tears.

Brownies - "Can we try one more time? I'm not ready to give on us."

Tommy was startled when the door to the closet swung open, Captain Pruitt looming over him with a plate of pecan pie in her hands. "I saw firefighter Buckley earlier when he dropped off the food. I don't know what's going on between the two of you and why both of you decided to break up, but Kinard, that man looks as if he still in love with you."

She panicked as Tommy burst into loud tears, holding the container of brownies to his chest.

Evan was cleaning up his kitchen, he was too tired and too emotionally wrung out to stay for the Thanksgiving dinner other than dropping off the last two pies for everyone to enjoy.

He frowned when he hear the doorbell, wondering if Maddie is going to stage another intervention on him when he opened the door, before staring in surprise.

Tommy was standing in front of him, still wearing his flight suit, holding the container with brownies and the sticky notes in his arms.

"Can we talk?" He asked with hopeful eyes.

Evan pulled him into the loft, closing the door behind them.

[temporalbystander]

Was gonna leave this alone, partway through reading this my insecure overly anxious brain was going "oh god this is me, Frosted hates me I should just delete my blog." And... Well you get the idea. I'm sick and I just woke from a nap, I'm not in the best headspace.

But I'm still going to tackle this. I'm still going to fight this. Because for the love of all things good it's not just ML now. Literally every fandom I've been a part of at some point has had these.... Organisms, that feel like they can't let someone enjoy something. That they need to remind you that you're a terrible person because you like a terrible show. And god forbid if you have shown interest in adult content of that show, because then you get called names 8 ways to Sunday all implying the world would be better off with you dead or in jail.

I don't know what it is, I don't know why they do it, and I don't know why ML has picked up so much more of it recently. But the rest of us have had more than enough and, quite frankly, should all be super vehement about the block button. Maybe even a name and shame if they get too out of hand.

I was gonna say more on the show, about my own opinions and what not, but no. I've made my stance clear enough. I've said time and again that I'm done. With the show, with writing, and yet I can't stop thinking about it. About giving it another chance, about catching up or watching the shows from the viewpoint of a normal fan and not a crazy person who got too involved with the OC reactions. And I'm still writing, still contemplating ideas that may never see the light of day but are still there.

Miraculous Ladybug is an amazing show and anyone who feels otherwise has no business saying so on my blog. It's quite obvious what you're getting into here.

you can't make a single fucking post about miraculous ladybug on this site without someone thinking their opinions about how ML Is A Bad Show are wanted or appropriate

[faeries-child]

No place for love part 2

OTHER PARTS: Part 1

Pairing: Azriel x oc/reader

Summary: She was the only way to get the information the spymaster needed, but he would have truly given anything not to see her again. Not to be at her mercy, completely under her control, for she awakened things in Azriel that he would rather had kept in slumber.

Warnings: Mature content, nudity, prostitution, eventual smut, mention's of SA, fighting and a lot of other triggering things :,)

NOTICE: I AM A DYSLEXIC, NOT A NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKER, I WRITE THESE AT 2 AM, HAVE MERCY :)

(Also, I got some inspiration to this chapter from one of the episodes from BBC Sherlock, where there is the legendary Irene Adler)

The man under Brianna had started to annoy her. She had kept him company for hours now. Fucking him, making love to him, pleasing him however he wanted. She was tired, tired of him. His smell was all over her by now and she wanted nothing more than to wash it off in a long warm bath, that she could maybe get to enjoy later, if she succeeded in her mission. 

She was straddling him, running her hands on his chest and smiling down at him. The man was panting heavily under her, eyes closed and his hands still keeping her hips securely in place on him.

 “I do not believe I can go for another round anymore love” he said looking up at her. He seemed to be intoxicated with everything around them and especially with her. 

Brianna thanked the mother that it was over now. Now she could start the real game. “My lord, did I wear you out? but there were so many things that I still wanted to do.” She let out a fake giggle at the end to convince him of the act she was putting on before him. 

She rolled off him, leaving him on the bed. Brianna walked to the other side of the room, where her robe was abandoned on one of the many cushions that covered the floor and made up the makeshift lounging area of the room. She pulled the robe on to cover her naked body. Turning to face the man again, she smiled that vicious smile she knew to make in situations like this. 

“Tell me my lord, now that you are back from your travels, what's next?”

“Oh Brianna. Why must you remind me of that boring thing people call reality?” 

He turned on the bed so he was facing her. In his eyes Brianna could sense a bite of annoyance. But to Brianna he was a simple man, nothing more than plaything in a bigger game she got to play. Getting the right information meant that she would get to meet the high lord’s spymaster again. 

To Brianna it was fun, refreshing almost. Talking to someone who at least tried to be a gentleman. Someone who tried not to look at her only as an object to be toyed and fiddled with. 

“I was only meaning to ask so I would know if you would continue to grace us with your presence in the future. Many of my girls miss you, they would be delighted to offer their services to you.” You lied through your teeth, like hell would you let any of the girls near this man. He wasn’t the worst that there was, but if you would have been given the choice, you would have burned him to ashes before he ever laid a finger on you the first time. But at least he was simple at mind. Easy to control, easy to impress. 

“My Brianna, always so sweet tongued.” He got up from the bed, starting to collect his clothes from the floor and putting them on. “But yes, I will be staying for a while. Business in the east went well, so now me and my men are preparing for the next stage.” He spoke not realizing how much he was giving away.

Brianna could truly now tell that he wasn’t the brightest of the punch. But she had gotten enough information, it was not yet enough proof to prove anything, but at least she had something interesting to report back to the shadowsinger and the high lord. 

Brianna smiled and walked towards the man, straightening his collar while looking into his eyes. “I am sorry to inform you that our time together has now come to an end, my next client is waiting already.” 

At the right moment the doors to her champers were opened, revealing Daphne at the entrance.  “I am sorry my lord, but I must ask you to leave my lady's room now, but if you are in the mood, you can enjoy a drink downstairs at the lounge bar.” 

“Of course, and oh!” The man turned to look at Brianna before saying “I am sorry to disappoint the other girls you were speaking of, but you, my Brianna, are the only one that can satisfy my hunger.” 

He bent down at her level and kissed her as a goodbye, then smelling her neck when straightening his back. After that he left, and deep inside Brianna could feel a shiver of disgust, making her want to burn all that he had touched, including herself. 

It was wrong to say that she had gotten used to it, no one could get used to it. No matter how many times she laid with these men, every single time she imagined herself somewhere else. She wished she could put a dagger through all of their hearts. If only she had the freedom to do so. 

Daphne looked at her lady, her friend. Starting to close the door so she could have a moment to dress and gather herself. Maybe bathe as well. Daphne knew the expression on Brianna’s face, she knew that her friend needed to wash off his touch. 

“Daphne, wait.” She said looking at her friend's eyes. “I have message for you to deliver” 

“What is it Anna?” 

Brianna fully turned to her friend and smiled at her, knowing that soon she really could meet the shadowsinger again soon. 

“Send a message to the high lord and his spymaster. Tell them that I have information that they will want to hear. “

Azriel’s pov:

Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand had been enjoying a quiet evening in the townhouse when the fire message came. Cassian had Nyx sitting on his knee, the little boy was chewing a wing of black bat toy that Nesta had gotten him for a present on his 1st birthday. 

Message appeared in front of Azriel's nose, making Rhys and Cassian turn their heads towards him. “What’s that?” asked Cassian, while trying to keep the little boy still on his leg. 

“The brothel already answered you?” Rhys concluded, making the assumption based on the frown on Azriel’s face. After the visit Azriel had been quiet, at least quieter than usual, which worried Rhysand. His friend hadn’t said anything about who he had met or what had happened at the brothel. 

“Yes” was the only thing Azriel answered. Not wanting to let his brothers know how helpless he had been before the woman. 

“So this means…?” Cassian asked, trying to pry more information from his brother. 

“Me and Rhys are taking a trip to the court of nightmares” Said the shadowsinger, thinking that bringing the high lord with him, he could maybe get more serious information from the woman. 

Azriel still didn’t know her name. In his mind he had started to call her “the woman”, not knowing anything else that fit better. She was certainly no girl. Even though she was young, no one inexperienced could act that way. Her eyes had been so dark and Azriel knew that based on the little bits and pieces he had seen of her living space and life, she had seen more than most of others. 

After Gathering their weapons, they put on Hewn city-appropriate clothes so they wouldn’t stick out like sore thumb in the dark catacombs of the city that resided under their beloved house of wind.

 This time Azriel took extra care in securing daggers and truthteller on his belt, not wanting to be caught off guard. Memories of the woman haunting his mind. He had not been able to shake her from his mind. That devilish smirk entering his dreams, his shadows whispering about her every second he got. He wanted her, but at the same time he wanted to stay as far away from her as he could. Lock her up and keep her to himself, leave prythian and never see her again. 

She was going to be the end of him.

Hewn city:

Rhysand gave him suspecting look, when arriving at the front of the brothel. Azriel however ignored the look and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply once, before stepping inside the place. He gestured to Rhys to follow him. 

Azriel saw the girl from earlier. She was beautiful as well, he assumed that all of the girls here were. Daphne his shadows whispered to him. 

Daphne approached them. Seemingly taken aback by the high lord’s presence. So the woman had not told anyone that the high lord would be joining them tonight. She curtsied to the high lord, as well to him. Azriel only nodded to her. 

Rhys had raised his glamor. Trying to blend in, not to cause unnecessary attention and rumors that the high lord of the night court had been seen in a place such as this. 

“We received an invitation. According to you, you have what we asked” Rhysand said, keeping his voice calm,  but still demanding power. 

“Right this way my lord’s” was the only thing she said, turning and starting to walk towards the stairs. 

Azriel and Rhysand followed. Not questioning where she was taking them.

Why are you so tense? It was Rhys, speaking directly into Az’s mind from the open crack that had left for him. 

Be on your guard brother, please. 

It was the only thing the shadowsinger had time to say before reaching the familiar door. Daphne opened it for them, revealing the already familiar room to Azriel. 

They took a step to the room. Both him and his brother assessing the space. 

After making sure there wasn’t anyone else in the room and that the door was shut, he gazed upon her. 

She was at least dressed this time. In a blood red dress, revealing her neck and chest so that it would leave any man drooling. Dress was simple, but clearly expensive, seeing that it was perfectly tailored to her, hugging in all the right places, before widening to airy hem pooling down at the woman's feet. 

Last time he had been so focused at not staring at her, that now that when he looked at her face. Truly looked at her in a beautiful dress and hair that fell freely past the woman’s waist in curls. She was the most beautiful creature that he had ever come across. Right in that momen, Azriel knew he was doomed. Because for him she truly was THE woman, the only woman.

“Good evening, lord of shadows”

continued... (part 3 hopefully coming soon :,) )

[sweets-library]

care and consequence

Shouta Aizawa/reader. hurt/comfort. wc: 7.9k.

READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. DO NOT READ THIS IF THEY DO NOT APPEAL TO YOU. 18+ content warnings: spanking, improper use of a hairbrush, punishment, heavy use of daddy as a title, heavy themes of discipline and D/S dynamics

a/n: holy shit guys, the reception on that last one was actually insane, thank you all so much! i hope you guys like this one too, I'm sorry it took so long! i have a lot of personal life drama going on rn, plus I'm sick again :/ anyways, enjoy and strap in, its a long one! ao3

-

You had regretted coming to the bar about an hour ago, though you’d never admit it. The music thrummed in your chest, matching the relentless pounding in your head. Around you, people were dancing, drinking, and laughing, lost in their own worlds. As much as you wanted to join in, your body felt like it was rebelling against you. Still, you clung to the idea that one more drink might just do the trick.

Navigating through the chaotic sea of heroes, you pushed your way to the bar and ordered a vodka cranberry with a shot on the side. Your last drink had taken a while to finish, but this one? This one needed to count. The bartender turned away, and just as you started to feel the room sway, the door flew open with a booming, "WHAT IS UP, PARTY PEOPLEEEEE!"

Ah, Mic made it!. He had been unsure if he could, with the radio show’s schedule, but he must’ve handed the reins to someone else to show up fashionably late. You watched as he carved a path through the crowd, greeting everyone with that infectious energy, before you turned your attention back to your drinks. Downing the shot in one swift motion, you grabbed your cocktail, setting your sights on Nemuri.

You found her in conversation with Kamui Woods and Mount Lady, her laughter carrying over the din. Sliding up beside her, you felt the brush of her nails as she pinched your side with a knowing grin. Without missing a beat, she continued chatting, but you knew she had clocked you. You were happy to wait, sipping your drink and letting its warmth spread through you, barely tuning into the conversation until Nemuri said her goodbyes.

She grabbed your hand, giggling as she pulled you onto the dance floor, and you let her lead—hoping the music might drown out how unwell you felt.

As the tequila and vodka settled into your veins, the world around you softened into a hazy blur of neon lights and pulsing bass. The club was packed, bodies moving in sync with the heavy beat that rattled the floor beneath your feet. Strobe lights flickered overhead, casting quick flashes of colour across the writhing crowd, while smoke machines filled the air with a thin mist that clung to your skin. The music was loud, so loud that it vibrated through your chest, matching the heat rising in your cheeks.

You finally started to feel it, the carefree buzz you’d been chasing all night. The alcohol loosened your limbs, and you let yourself get lost in whatever dirty, hypnotic rhythm Nemuri was dragging you into. Around you, people shouted over the music, laughed too loudly, and clinked glasses at the bar. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and the faint hint of perfume mingling with something more electric. It was the kind of energy that pulled you in deeper, making everything else fade away.

A few songs passed in a blur of flashing lights and sweaty bodies. You floated from partner to partner, dancing with Thirteen, Snipe, and Nemuri again, before you found yourself twirled straight into the arms of Present Mic.

“Zashi! Hi!” you practically shouted, grinning at him with the same excitement that buzzed through the room. It felt like he was the only one who hadn’t made it to the party yet, and now, everything was perfect. You could imagine him being stopped by every person on the way in, catching up and spreading his contagious energy.

“Heya, baby, how’s it hangin’?” he grinned, pulling you in so close you could feel the bass rumbling through his chest. But even here, his voice cut through the noise effortlessly.

“Soooo good! I love dancing, I’m so happy you came! Thought you’d get stuck at the station,” you gushed, letting the sway of the music carry you from foot to foot.

He laughed and gave you a playful dip, sending you squealing in delight as the room spun for a brief moment. But when he pulled you back up, his smile faltered as you coughed into your arm, the noise cutting through the music like a reminder that not everything was as smooth as the party felt.

“Gave one of the interns the mic for the night. She was over the moon to take it,” Hizashi said with a chuckle, leaning in closer to cut through the pounding music. His usual energy seemed slightly tempered, though his voice still carried effortlessly. He lowered his tone as he added, “Didn’t think you’d make it out tonight. Shouta told me earlier you weren’t feeling so hot.”

At the mention of your boyfriend, you scanned the room out of habit, already knowing he wasn’t there. This kind of scene was never his thing; too loud, too crowded. Besides, he had patrol tonight.

“Sho’s just paranoid. I’m fine, see?” you replied, brushing off the comment with a lighthearted twirl under Hizashi’s arm. The movement made your head spin a bit, but you ignored it, flashing him a grin as you let go of his hand, intent on heading back to the bar for another drink. Before you could get far, his arm looped around your waist, pulling you back gently but firmly. 

“Hey, you trying to leave me all alone out here? This party’s not even close to over,” Hizashi laughed, his voice rising just above the thrum of the bass. You joined in his laughter, not noticing how, with each song, he subtly steered you away from the bar. The colours around you swirled in a kaleidoscope of neon lights, flickering across faces and catching in the smoke-filled air. Every beat seemed to vibrate through your body, keeping you in a daze of music, movement, and heat.

As the hours blurred, so did the people. Dance partners came and went, their faces brief ly illuminated by strobe lights before they disappeared back into the crowd. But through it all, Hizashi never left your side, keeping a playful hand on your shoulder or at your waist as if he were your lifeline in the chaotic sea of bodies.

Then, a slower song melted into the speakers, and the mood shifted. The lights dimmed to soft blues and purples, and the frenetic energy on the dance floor calmed. Hizashi took the opportunity to pull you close, his arm wrapping around you with a gentleness that felt comforting against the heat of the room. Your head fell naturally onto his shoulder as the world seemed to slow down for the first time that night. The sway of the music was soothing now, and the chatter around you dropped to a murmur.

Couples paired off, holding each other close, moving in time to the slow beat, while others used the moment to catch their breath. The heavy scent of spilled drinks, sweat, and perfume lingered in the air, but here, in Hizashi’s arms, you felt an odd sense of calm. You giggled softly as he whispered in your ear, making quiet jokes about the unlikely pairings that had formed on the dance floor. His voice was steady and warm, grounding you.

But then, he stopped abruptly. The sway of his body stilled, and you blinked, the moment interrupted. Confused, you lifted your head to look at him, but his attention was no longer on the dance floor.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I think your song’s been played out,” Hizashi said softly, his voice taking on a tone that felt more final than playful. You lifted your head to question him, confusion crossing your face, but before you could get a word out, he spun you around; right into the arms of someone new.

Or rather, someone far more familiar than you would have preferred.

“Shouta!” you gasped, looking up to find him staring down at you, his dark eyes narrowed in that way that instantly made you feel small. His gaze wasn’t angry, exactly, but there was a sharpness in it that cut through the fog of your drunken haze. You straightened up, biting your lip as emotions flashed across your face, impossible to hide in your current state.

“I thought you had patrol?” you asked, voice tinged with uncertainty.

“I finished early,” he said, his tone even but firm as he wrapped an arm around your waist. His grip was gentle, but the intention was clear as he began guiding you through the crowd and toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, wait, I gotta-” you started to protest, trying to twist out of his hold. But Shouta cut you off before you could finish, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“I paid your tab. You can see everyone another time,” Shouta said curtly, his voice as firm as his grip around your waist. The finality in his words made your chest tighten, but you huffed anyway, stubbornly digging in your heels.

“I promised Nemuri another dance, and I was gonna get another drink!” you protested, though the moment the words were out, you knew they were a mistake. Shouta’s gaze sharpened, his eyes darkening as they bore into you. It was a look that made your heart skip a beat and sent a nervous tremor down your spine. Your feet shuffled on instinct, your earlier defiance wilting under the heat of his stare.

“We are leaving right now, little girl,” he said, his tone low and deliberate. The words slid over you like a command, impossible to ignore. His hand drifted down to your ass, the touch firm and possessive, sending a shiver through your body. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he continued, “Unless you’d like to get a head start on your punishment in the bathroom. Here. And. Now.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, your breath catching in your throat. The heavy atmosphere of the club seemed to fade, the sound of the crowd growing distant. All that remained was the heat of his presence and the weight of his words. The tension coiled in your stomach, leaving you unsure whether to push back or submit.

“No… m’sorry. Let’s go,” you mumbled, your voice barely rising above the pulsing music, but your regretful look and the way you let him pull you along seemed to say enough. Once outside, the sudden quiet enveloped you, your ears ringing from the absence of sound. The contrast was jarring, but it was nothing compared to the weight of Shouta’s disappointment radiating off him like an invisible force.

He guided you to the car, and without even a hint of protest, you slid into the back seat. The cool leather felt grounding against your skin as he buckled you in silently, his focus unwavering. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable, as he leaned in, resting his hand on the headrest. His expression softened slightly, a hint of concern breaking through his earlier sternness.

“Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?” he inquired, his voice steady yet laced with a quiet urgency. You shook your head, trying to muster a reassuring smile, though the flutter of anxiety in your stomach made it hard.

“Okay,” he replied, his gaze steady on yours. “Start drinking this.” He handed you a bottle of water, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want at least half of it gone by the time we get home. And if you think you’re feeling sick, just tell me, and I’ll pull over.”

The seriousness in his voice made your heart race. You nodded, taking the bottle from him, the cool plastic a small comfort in the heated moment. As you unscrewed the cap, you could sense the shift in his demeanour. He was looking out for you, but there was a firmness in his words that reminded you of the line you’d crossed.

“Okay.” you mumble, staring at his chin to avoid the intensity of his eyes. He sighed and closed the door before climbing into the driver's seat and starting the journey home. The ride wasn't long but it was dead silent and it gave you enough time for some of the alcohol to wear off and the reminders that you were sick to kick in. 

Shouta, of course, knew you at the very least, had a bad cold. That morning, he had taken charge, insisting you call off work and ordering you to stay in bed. He had been so sweetly concerned and caring. He had meticulously arranged everything, ensuring you had enough food and medicine at hand. You could still picture him moving around the kitchen, checking in on you with a watchful eye, his brow slightly furrowed in that familiar expression of worry.

Throughout the afternoon, he had kept in touch, sending periodic texts to check on your well-being. Each notification was a reminder of how deeply he cared. The messages were gentle nudges, urging you to rest and take care of yourself. You could almost feel his presence with each ping, as if he were there beside you, coaxing you to indulge in soup and reminding you when to take the next dose of cold and flu medicine.

But as the hours slipped by and daylight faded into evening, the excitement of your friends celebrating the end of the semester began to tug at you. The allure of laughter and music beckoned from the outside world, tempting you to leave the cocoon of blankets and soothing remedies he had encouraged you to embrace. You hadn’t mentioned your plans to Shouta, knowing full well the firm stance he had taken. He had told you when he left for his night patrol that you were to be doing nothing for the rest of the night but resting and getting better. 

In a moment of weakness, you had chosen to ignore his guidance, allowing the crippling fear of missing out to get to you. Now, as the consequences of your decision loomed large, you felt a heavy weight settle in your chest, a blend of regret and dread creating a terrible cocktail with how awful you were already feeling physically.

As Shouta pulled into the driveway, the rush of emotions overwhelmed you. The tears welled up, unbidden and hot, as the guilt of your choices crashed over you like a wave. You hiccuped, desperately trying to swallow back the sobs, but it was futile. When he parked the car and came around to your door, you barely registered his movements, lost in your own turmoil. As soon as he opened the door, he unbuckled you and gathered you into his arms, cradling you against him. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, as he felt you trembling against him. “I know you’re not feeling too hot. Come on, let’s get you inside and into some comfy clothes. Does that sound good?”

You nodded against his shoulder, the gesture almost instinctual as the weight of your exhaustion settled in. With a gentle yet firm motion, he hoisted you out of the car, his strength reassuring. You instinctively wrapped your limbs around him like a koala, seeking the comfort of his embrace. He adjusted his hold, securing you against him effortlessly as he maneuvered to get the door open with one arm, not even considering putting you down for a moment. The night air was cool against your skin, but Shouta's warmth kept the chill at bay. As he carried you inside, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him.

He took care of you mostly in silence, his hands moving with a practiced ease as he guided your movements. Gently, he slipped off your heels, his touch tender against your tired feet. Without a word, he helped you out of your dress, replacing the once-glamorous outfit with the softness of your favourite pajamas. His fingers were careful as he wiped away the makeup you'd used to hide the ruddiness in your cheeks and the shadows beneath your eyes, his brow creasing slightly as he worked, focused but gentle.

When he pressed the cool glass of water into your hands, you drank obediently, the quiet rustle of him preparing the medicine a comforting sound in the background. As he handed you the pills, his eyes softened, a silent reminder that he was looking out for you. After you’d swallowed them, he guided you to sit down at your vanity, still working methodically, brushing away the remnants of the night.

The makeup wipe brushed over your nose, tickling slightly, and despite the exhaustion and the lingering tipsiness, a small giggle escaped your lips. You leaned up, catching his eyes in the mirror, and smiled mischievously, asking for a kiss. He indulged you, pressing a brief, soft kiss to your lips before continuing, his attention shifting to your hair. The tender motions of his hands as he brushed it through were almost hypnotic, lulling you into a sense of calm as he completed your nighttime routine for you.

A thought bubbled up, slipping out before you could stop it. “How did you know where I was? Thought patrol didn’t end till 4?” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur as he turned you to face the mirror. Catching his eyes in the reflection, you saw a flicker of irritation still lingering there, and the weight of it made you shy away. You broke eye contact, your gaze dropping to the clutter of items strewn across the vanity from earlier in the night.

“Hizashi texted me when he got there,” he replied quietly, his voice steady but tinged with that edge of disappointment. You couldn't help but pout at the mention of it, feeling the sting of being caught, of letting him down. The weight of his gaze lingered on you, but you felt his concern just as deeply, even in the silence between you.

“Tattle-tale,” you mumbled under your breath, but before you could sink too far into your pout, Shouta’s fingers tipped under your chin, gently but firmly, guiding you to meet his eyes in the mirror.

“He wouldn’t have to tattle if you hadn’t been misbehaving, would he?” His voice held that familiar grumble, a mix of irritation and concern that made your heart skip. You swallowed, feeling the weight of his gaze and the undeniable truth behind his words.

“No, sir,” you murmured, looking as contrite as you felt. His expression softened slightly, and he let out a quiet puff of air, almost a sigh, before pulling you up from the vanity.

With his hand steadying you, he guided you toward the bed, but your legs still wobbled beneath you. Dizzy, you tumbled onto the mattress, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you sank into the plush blankets. Shouta rolled his eyes, but there was a tenderness behind it, and with practiced care, he shifted you to the other side and tucked you in properly, smoothing the covers over you.

“Wait, Sho... you’re not... are you mad at me?” you asked, your voice suddenly small and sincere, cutting through the haze of your tipsiness. His brow furrowed at the question, and for a moment, you held your breath, waiting for his answer.

“No, baby, I’m not mad. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he assured you, his voice softer now. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened up. Rounding the bed, he moved to his side, slipping in beside you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that conversation tomorrow wasn’t going to be a pleasant one. But as Shouta’s strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close against his chest, the heaviness of the night melted away. His familiar scent, the steady beat of his heart, and the warmth of his body drowned out any lingering bad feelings. For now, wrapped up in him, everything felt right, and you let yourself drift into the comfort of sleep.

-

The morning greeted you with a vengeance, leaving you feeling every bit as awful as you feared. Your head throbbed with a dull, relentless ache, your sinuses were stuffed to the brim, and your body felt clammy and weak, so much more wrung out than you had been jus the day before. Groaning, you burrowed deeper into the blankets, hiding from the sunlight streaming through the windows. Despite the warmth of the covers, a bone-deep chill had taken root, making you shiver as you curled in on yourself.

“Wake up, baby. You have to take some medicine.” Shouta’s voice, calm and resolute, pierced your cocoon of self-pity. You whined in response, a pitiful sound muffled by the blankets.

“M’sleeping. No thanks,” you muttered petulantly, half-hoping he’d let it slide. Usually, this was when you’d hear him chuckle softly, maybe feel the comforting weight of his hand on your thigh as he gave you a few more moments to stir.

Instead, the covers were suddenly pulled back from your face, exposing you to the cool morning air and making you gasp at the loss of warmth. The sudden brightness forced your eyes to flutter open, though they quickly squinted against the light. Before you could protest, Shouta’s hand was on your face, gentle and deliberate, as he smoothed the strands of damp hair plastered to your clammy skin. The touch sent a shiver through you, the tenderness soothing away your irritation.

His expression hovered between stern and soft, his dark eyes scanning your flushed, pale face with an almost clinical precision. You could feel the weight of his worry as he brushed his thumb over your temple. Despite your exhaustion, guilt pooled in your chest, mingling with the sickness that had you pinned to the bed.

“It wasn’t really a request. Come on, sit up.” His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the firmness behind it. Before you could muster a protest, his strong hands slipped under your back and shoulders, lifting you with ease. The sudden shift left you disoriented, and before you knew it, you were propped up against the headboard.

Two pills rested on the palm he held in front of your face, his dark eyes steady and expectant. “Open,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. Something in the commanding gentleness of his voice had you obeying instinctively, parting your lips without hesitation. He placed the pills on your tongue, and you grimaced as you swallowed them with a few sips of the water he pressed to your lips.

Just as you moved to push the glass away, his hand caught yours, steadying it. “Finish this,” he said firmly, guiding it back toward your mouth. The weight of his worry lingered in the way his fingers stayed wrapped around yours, ensuring you drank more.

You managed another sip, your movements sluggish and reluctant, before he spoke again, his voice softening. “Are you hungry?”

You shook your head, too weary to form words, and he nodded in quiet acceptance. “Okay,” he murmured, taking the now half-empty glass from your hands and setting it on the bedside table. His fingers brushed against your knuckles briefly, grounding you in the moment. “You can sleep a little longer until the meds kick in. We’ll talk when you’re feeling a bit better.”

You gulped and cast your eyes downward, unable to meet his steady gaze. The words he didn’t say lingered in the air, unspoken but heavy, a reminder of the talk you’d hoped that you might avoid. Shouta, ever composed, didn’t press. Instead, his hand smoothed over your hair, the motion tender and familiar, as if to reassure you that his frustration didn’t mean he cared any less.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss between your brows, a soft, lingering gesture that made your chest tighten. It wasn’t fair how easily he could dissolve your guilt and stubbornness in a single moment of care. You couldn’t even summon the faintest trace of upset, not when his touch was so gentle, so grounding. Instead, your eyelids grew heavier, the pull of exhaustion impossible to resist. With a quiet sigh, you let yourself drift, surrendering to the lull of warmth and safety he left behind.

Time passed in a haze, unmeasured and weightless. When you woke again, the pounding in your head had dulled to a faint, manageable throb, and though your limbs still felt heavy, they no longer ached with the same intensity. The room was empty now, sunlight spilling through the windows in soft golden streaks that painted the walls and the rumpled sheets beside you. If Shouta hadn't insisted on taking some medicine earlier, the light would probably be giving you the worst of headaches, but instead, you were able to enjoy the warmth. Of course, Shouta was right, as always. It was no wonder you let him take the reins so often; he had a knack for knowing exactly what you needed, even when you couldn’t see it yourself. It went beyond simple intuition, it was deliberate and unwavering care. It was why you trusted him so deeply.

If you didn’t know that, if you couldn’t feel it in the way he cared for you, you wouldn’t be in this dynamic with him in the first place. You wouldn’t be sitting here now, heart pounding in the quiet aftermath, debating whether pretending to sleep a little longer might save you from the punishment just a little longer, or if it would only make things worse.

But even as your thoughts tangled with uncertainty, you knew you wouldn’t trade this for anything. For all the moments like these, where guilt and the weight of your mistakes pressed down on you, there was always the unwavering reassurance that Shouta would steady you. He’d take you in hand, reminding you in no uncertain terms just how much you mattered to him.

He wouldn’t tolerate behaviour that diminished your worth, not in his eyes, and not in your own. It wasn’t just discipline; it was care, deeply rooted and uncompromising. And when all was said and done, forgiveness would follow, that was never an uncertainty. With Shouta, there was no lingering doubt, no unspoken resentment, only the quiet, steady rhythm of love in its most honest form.

It was about more than letting go; it was about giving that trust to someone who cherished it, someone who didn’t just take care of you but found joy in doing so. And in turn, you found joy in being cared for. It could be terrifying sometimes, to put that kind of trust in someone, but with Shouta it had always felt worth it. 

You sigh and slide out of bed, resigned to your fate. The chill in the air bites at your skin, and the sickness still clings to you making you shiver. You rummage through the closet until your fingers find the familiar softness of one of Shouta’s sweaters. It’s an old crew neck, worn and slightly stretched out, big even on him and perfect for wrapping yourself in his warmth.

Pulling it over your head, you pad out to the living room on bare feet. The sight that greets you stops you in your tracks, drawing a soft, dreamy sigh from your lips.

Shouta is perched on the couch, papers spread across the coffee table in neat stacks. A faint furrow creases his brow as he grades with careful precision, the rhythmic scratch of his pen the only sound in the room. One of the cats is curled in his lap snoring, and a ray of sunlight streams through the window, bathing the scene in a golden glow that feels almost unreal. For a moment, you wonder if you’re still dreaming.

His sharp eyes flick up, catching yours as you linger in the doorway. Before he can say a word, you shuffle over and flop down beside him, burying yourself against his shoulder and letting your eyes drift closed again. The familiar scent of him wraps around you, as grounding as the weight of his presence.

“G’morning baby.” you sigh, and his arm curls around you to tug you to his side properly. 

“Good morning, my love. Feeling a little better?” he murmurs, his voice soft and low, vibrating gently against your ear. You nod, nestling closer into his shoulder, letting the comforting rhythm of his breathing soothe your lingering unease.

The two of you sit in companionable silence, the occasional scratch of his pen the only sound in the room. He finishes grading the last test on his stack, and you catch a glimpse of his expression as he marks something on the page. Oof. Poor kid.

You might have dozed off again if not for the fluttering unease in your stomach, a familiar mix of guilt and anticipation. The thought of the looming punishment makes it impossible to relax entirely, though Shouta’s calm presence keeps you from fully spiralling.

And then, as if he could read your mind, he sets the papers aside with a quiet sigh. The finality of it settles in your chest like a stone. He turns his face into your hair, his lips brushing against your temple as he speaks softly, a warmth and firmness interwoven in his tone.

“We need to have a talk, little girl.”

You bite your lip, the weight of his gaze settling heavily over you. A sigh escapes your lips as you try to find the right words. “I know. I’m sorry,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Shouta doesn’t immediately respond. He pulls back slightly, his eyes scanning your face, assessing. The silence stretches just long enough to make you squirm.

Finally, he exhales deeply, sitting back and crossing his arms. His posture is relaxed, but the intensity in his eyes keeps you rooted in place.

“Why?” he asks, his voice calm but piercing.

Your stomach churns. You know the answer, of course, you do, but the way he asks makes your guilt multiply. He doesn’t raise his voice; he doesn’t need to. You glance down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on your pajama pants, anything to avoid the weight of his disappointment.

“For… for not listening,” you whisper, each word sticking in your throat. “And going out when you told me not to.”

“That’s correct,” he says, his tone steady but no less cutting. “But more broadly, I’m extremely not thrilled with your complete disregard for your own health and well-being.”

The words land with a precision that makes your chest ache.

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his voice softening but still firm. “I love taking care of you. But part of that is making sure you take care of yourself when I’m not there. I need to trust that when I tell you to rest and recover, you’ll actually listen. Instead, you put yourself in harm’s way, and for what? A few hours of fun?”

His gaze locks onto yours, and the weight of his disappointment has you nodding mutely.

“And,” he continues, his voice sharpening, “I have never, and will never, tolerate you lying to me.”

Your head snaps up, a reflexive protest bubbling to the surface. “I didn’t lie—”

The glare he fixes you with stops the words dead in their tracks. It’s a look that leaves no room for negotiation.

“What did you say,” he asks, his voice low and measured, “when I told you to spend the night resting and recovering before I left for work?”

Your cheeks burn as you break eye contact. His stare feels like a spotlight, illuminating every guilty thought you’re trying to suppress. You shift uncomfortably, your voice trembling as you admit, “I… I said, ‘Yes, Daddy.’”

The silence that follows feels deafening. You dare a glance up at him, but his expression is unreadable. The weight of your admission hangs heavy in the air, and you shrink under the judgment you can feel emanating from him.

Finally, he sighs, the sound carrying more disappointment than anger. “You know what you did,” he says, each word deliberate. “Now it’s time to face the consequences.”

Your stomach twists, dread pooling in your chest. His tone is calm, almost gentle, but it carries a finality that leaves no room for debate.

“I wouldn’t normally punish you while you’re sick,” he continues, leaning back against the couch, his voice even. “But since you seem to think that being sick has no bearing on your decisions, I won’t let it affect mine either. Stand up.”

Your knees feel weak as you scramble to obey, rising unsteadily to your feet. Confusion flickers across your face- why not just pull you over his lap like usual? Why make you stand?

“Go and get the wooden hairbrush,” he says, his voice low and dispassionate, the command sending a shiver down your spine. “The flat, square one. And lose your pants on the way.”

Your gasp escapes before you can stop it, your hands instinctively clutching at the waistband of your pajama pants.

He doesn’t budge, his expression firm, his gaze unwavering. “You heard me.”

The room feels colder as you move, your steps hesitant. The gravity of the moment weighs heavily with each step you take toward the bedroom. Your heart races as you reach for the brush, the smooth wood cool against your palm. Sliding your pajama pants down your legs, you feel your cheeks burn with a mixture of shame and anticipation. You decide to take off the sweater as well, knowing Shouta would have you sweating soon.  

When you return to the living room, brush in hand and pants abandoned, Shouta’s eyes meet yours. His gaze softens slightly, a flicker of care visible beneath the stern exterior, but it does nothing to ease the butterflies raging in your stomach.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, gesturing for you to come closer. You obey silently, beyond arguing at this point. There would be no getting out of this, Shouta cares too much about you to let you get away with this. You hand over the brush and he places it on the arm of the couch, and then you fold yourself over his lap obediently. Without another word he folds your shirt up to expose the entirety of your backside, and places his hand on it, making you squirm with dread.

“Safeword?”

“Red” you whimper, accepting your fate.

He doesn't hesitate any longer, steadily applying his hand to your ass with all the restrained muscle of a pro hero, just hard enough to make sure you know exactly where you belong. The first few swats land on your bare ass, and you already want to start crying. And then he starts talking. 

“Let's go through each unfortunate choice you made yesterday, shall we?” he says, and you try not to tense up at his disappointed tone.

“First, you disobeyed me when I specifically told you to stay in bed while you weren't feeling well, and second, you lied to me and said that you would be home for the night. Third, you disregarded yourself and your health, which we will be going into great detail about with the hairbrush.”

As he laid out your actions, your ass got steadily reddened, and the tears started falling against your will. You fisted the fabric of the couch and willed yourself not to squirm, knowing it would only make things worse for you. 

Shouta’s voice was calm but carried the weight of unshakable authority, each word landing like a stone in your chest. “Do you think I asked you to stay home for no reason? That I ask you to listen to me for my own amusement?”

Your stomach churned at his tone, the disappointment in his voice far worse than any raised voice could have been.

“You trust me to know what’s best for you, and in turn, I trust you to be honest with me. I specifically told you to stay home, to rest and recover. Instead, I get a text from Hizashi that you’re out, you’re drinking, and completely ignoring what I asked of you. What if he hadn’t messaged me? What if I had come home to an empty house, no idea where you were, and no way to ensure you were safe?” 

The image his words painted made your chest tighten with guilt. You could hear the strain in his voice, the quiet upset that cut deeper than anger ever could. You knew how much this dynamic meant to him—not just as a way to care for you, but as a source of reassurance in a life that was chaotic and dangerous. Being a pro-hero came with enough unpredictability; this was one area of his life he could keep steady.

Even with that realization weighing heavy on your chest, you couldn’t help it. Against your better judgment, a pouty response escaped your lips, soft and stubborn, laced with defiance that you immediately regretted. 

“I was gonna be home before you got back—” The sharp crack of his hand meeting your thigh cut off your words with a yelp, the sting blooming as tears welled in your eyes. His hand rested firmly on the offended area, grounding you.

“That is not the point and you know it. You dont get to have a bratty attitude with me about this, or the hairbrush is going to be followed by a long time out in the corner for you to fix it. Am. I. Clear.” 

“Yes- ‘m sorry, I'm sorry sir.” you cry, your face soaked and dripping onto the cushion. 

“Hm. As I was saying, this will not be happening again. You misbehave, you get consequences. For the next two weeks, you will be in this house and in our bed by 9 p.m. sharp. If I’m not home, I expect a picture of you in bed, and then you will put your phone in my bedside table.”

The shame of his words was almost as unbearable as the sting still radiating from your thighs. You sobbed into the couch, mortified at the level of supervision he felt you required. “Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered, your voice hoarse.

“I am not playing about this,” he pressed on, his gaze unyielding. “If I find out you’ve stepped foot out of this apartment, you had better have a damn good reason—or you’ll find yourself right back here, no excuses. If you can’t take care of yourself on your own, I will do it for you.”

You nodded again, your sobs turning into shaky, uneven breaths. The shame was overwhelming, and yet you knew he wasn’t done.

As the spanks land, the force behind them pulls a sharp gasp from you, and each strike feels like a wave of guilt crashing over you. His words pierce through the haze of pain. "I think this way you might begin to understand how serious your actions are. His disappointment lingers in your chest, making it harder to breathe.

The spanks stopped for a moment, and you gasped, your body trembling as you tried to catch your breath. Shouta’s hands, firm and unyielding just moments ago, softened as they rubbed soothing circles on your spine. His voice, low and steady, cut through the haze of your tears.

“Breathe, baby. Take a few deep breaths,” he murmured, his tone no longer sharp but filled with an unyielding care that made your chest ache.

You hiccupped, following his instruction as you sucked in shaky gulps of air. The relief of his touch warred with the knowledge that this reprieve was temporary. Your breath finally evened out, and your tears slowed, but they didn’t stop.

“Good girl,” he said quietly, though there was no warmth in his praise—just a steady, measured approval for doing as you were told. His hand drifted to your shoulder, squeezing gently before he continued.

“Now,” he began, his tone sharp once more, “let’s discuss the way you’ve been treating your health.”

Your stomach churned, and your heart thudded as the words landed. His hand left your shoulder, and you braced yourself for what was to come, dread building with every passing second.

The hairbrush came down with a crack, the sound cutting through the room and drawing a pained cry from your lips. Shouta didn’t bother to shush you; the punishment was meant to leave a lasting impression, and he doesn't want you to hide where you are at emotionally.  The strikes weren’t as rapid as the earlier flurry of his hands, but each one was deliberate, the wide, heavy impact sinking deep into your already tender skin.

You sobbed with each blow, your cries punctuating the rhythm he set.

“I will never, ever stand for you treating yourself the way you chose to last night.” His voice was calm, but the sharpness in his tone felt like another lash, hitting somewhere deeper than just your body. “You were sick- you are sick- and the fact that you thought you could just disregard that to go party makes me think you don’t understand how seriously I take your wellbeing. Not to mention how seriously I expect you to take it yourself.”

The hairbrush came down again, and you twisted slightly, though his firm grip kept you in place. The dull thud seemed to echo in your chest, a physical reminder of just how much you had messed up.

“Every part of you is important, mind and body,” he continued, the cadence of his strikes steady and unrelenting. “One of our biggest rules is that you don’t disrespect yourself, and you know very well I don’t just mean self-deprecating words. I expect you to take the same care for yourself when I’m gone that I do when I’m here.”

The words hit harder than the brush, and your quiet whimper turned into a full sob. His disappointment was unbearable, an ache in your chest that far outweighed the sting of your reddened skin.

“Clearly, you can’t be trusted to do so on your own,” he said, pausing for a moment to let his words sink in.

The tears streaking down your face weren’t just from the physical pain; they came from the overwhelming guilt of letting him down. You knew how much he valued self-care, and how hard he worked to instill that same value in you, even when he struggled to prioritize it for himself.

You sniffled, hiccuping through your tears, and a treacherous thought flitted through your mind. Hypocrite. He barely looked after himself most days. Your attitude almost made itself known again before the next blow snapped you out of your thoughts, and you yelped, realizing too late that the silence had stretched on too long.

“Every day until you are one-hundred percent better,” he said, his tone unyielding, “you’re going to sit at that table and write me fifty lines, telling me exactly how well you’re going to take care of yourself in the future.”

You let out a soft wail of protest at the thought, but he ignored it, leaning in to speak into your ear.

“And trust me, little girl, you do not want to have this discussion again.”

And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. The punishing rhythm of the hairbrush ceased, and the room settled into a heavy, tear-soaked silence. Your sobs, however, remained steady, shaking your body as it lay slumped over his lap.

Shouta’s hands shifted, their movements no longer firm and corrective but gentle, smoothing up and down your back and thighs. He didn’t rush you, letting you cry as long as you needed, his presence grounding you even as your emotions spilled over.

When your cries softened to hiccups, he gently helped you upright, maneuvering you so you were straddling his lap. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you buried your tear-streaked face into his shirt, soaking the fabric with every breathy sob. He didn’t mind; his arms held you just as tightly, encasing you in a protective warmth.

“Okay, kid,” he murmured, his lips brushing the crown of your head as he swayed you gently. “Alright, you’re okay now. I love you so much, baby.”

His voice was soft, full of love and patience, and it was that tenderness that finally cracked the dam inside you. The moment you had enough air in your lungs, you blurted out in a desperate rush:

“I’m so sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry I fucked up—I didn’t mean to! I just—I wanted—I’m just so, so sorry,” you wailed, clinging to him like a lifeline. The words poured out of you like water from a broken dam, each one carrying the weight of your regret. You weren’t just apologizing for the mistake, you were apologizing for letting him down, for making him feel like his care wasn’t enough to anchor you. The thought of betraying the trust he put in you made the tears fall faster.

“Oh, baby,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he hugged you even closer. “Okay, okay. I know. Thank you, babygirl, I know you are. You’re forgiven now, okay? You did so good for me, you’re all forgiven.”

His words were a balm to your guilt, soothing and grounding you as you took shuddering breaths, gradually winding down. Your sobs quieted into occasional hiccups, and he gently tilted you back to examine your tear-streaked face. Shouta’s soft smile held no trace of the earlier sternness. He reached over, plucking a tissue from the side table, and methodically wiped away your tears, along with the snot and drool that added to your humiliation. He discarded the tissue without a second thought, his focus entirely on you.

“Let’s go take a bath, baby, clear up your sinuses,” he murmured, his voice warm and soothing. He hoisted you into his arms with ease and carried you to the bathroom, grabbing two towels along the way. Setting them on the counter, he gingerly placed you atop them, your seated position making you just a little taller than him. He stood between your legs, his hands resting gently on your thighs, and studied your face with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice earnest and patient.

You took a moment to check in with yourself, cataloging the aches in your body, the tenderness in your emotions, and the lingering sting of your punishment. Eventually, you nodded and murmured, “Yeah, ‘m okay. I’m just really sorry.”

His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. Leaning up, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “I know, sweetheart. I believe you.”

He didn’t push for more, understanding how fragile you felt. Instead, he gave you space, letting you sit quietly while he started filling the tub. The sound of water rushing against porcelain filled the room, and he quickly stripped down before helping you out of your oversized shirt. His movements were efficient but tender as if he were afraid to overwhelm you.

Once the tub was full, he climbed in first and extended a hand to guide you in, settling you between his legs with your back pressed firmly to his chest. The warm water enveloped you, and his arms encircled your middle, holding you close.

“There we go, my good girl,” he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your temple. The praise made you shiver, the tension in your body melting away as you nestled further into his embrace.

“Always my good girl, no matter what,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you so much.”

His words wrapped around you like the heat of the water, comforting and secure, and you let yourself relax completely. This was where you belonged—wrapped in his love and care, forgiven and cherished.

[marisol-000]

The Sandbox Scientists ch. 3

Sooooo I may have been off about how long this would take, in my defense this is only my second multi-chapter fic! My solution to this is to stop guessing when things will be done so you get ch. 4 when you get it <3

Something I realized when double checking the opening scene is that I accidentally made it very unclear which Henry is narrating XD, I’ve decided to leave it that way

Big chapter this time! I thought about splitting it up but that's lame so you get what you get <3 Happy Thanksgiving!

(a03)

Henry was over the moon.

The adults liked science!!!

The adults like science the way they liked science!!!!!

They weren't mad or grossed out at all! Like the other grown ups and kids were when he talked about it.

The “Lodgers” as they called themselves had shown him and the other him all sorts of cool stuff! Like a GIANT octopus, and a metal man with glowing eyes, the biggest telescope he’d ever seen in his life, and even mice that were invisible!

There were so many labs here that were used for all sorts of things he didn’t understand yet!

Mr. Sinnet even let them hold his flamethrower!!

Not even his mother liked when he showed her his ‘science projects’. But these guys! They let him put his hands in the dirt and pick up a plant that moved!

Other Henry touched some slime that didn’t stick if he was fast enough!

And one of the lodgers gave them candy!

Whatever this place was was the best place EVER! He hoped Momma would let them come back sometime.

Archer, their new friend, leaned next to them while they tried the big lollipops someone named Doodle gave them.

“So, what kinda science is you two’s favorite? Neuroscience? Engineering? Cryptobiology?”

No one ever asked Henry what kind of science he liked! He also didn’t know what those words meant but he couldn’t wait to find out!

“Potions! I like to make potions with stuff I find outside! Oh and monsters! When I grow up I’m gonna be a monster doctor so I can help monsters when they get sick!”

Other him jumped in at this. “Yeah! I’m gonna make potions that bring people back to life, like Frankenstein!”

Someone nearby gasped. A hushed mutter ran through the crowd at this. Lodgers who had started to drift away and chat with their neighbors were suddenly pulled back into the boys’ conversation.

Archer straightened, and had an odd spark in his eyes.

“Sooooo, you like Frankenstein then?”

They nodded, “Mm hm! He’s the coolest scientist ever! I wanna be just like him!”

The whispers grew louder, with people giggling and nudging each other.

“You don’t say? Then I bet it’d be <em>really</em> cool if I were to tell you about a certain someone who’s in town.” Archer mused.

Henry paused in trying to bite his lollipop, “Who?”

Surely they couldn’t mean…

“Oh no one special,” he said, someone snickered behind them, “It’s just that we just so <em>happen</em> to have a certain… mad scientist in our attic right now.”

The boys froze where they were. For a moment Archer got a little worried.

“FRANKENSTEIN?!?!?!??!?!??!”

Frankenstein was having a quiet day.

She’d had her fair share of that in life, living in the wilderness, distancing herself from society. Hell, even before everything she had isolated herself from the world, driven everyone away lest the small minds find out about her incredible experiments.

Which was fine, she didn't need anyone else. So what if the lodgers had barely stopped by to talk to her all day? It didn’t bother her at all! It wasn’t like she took the slightest indication that she was being ignored with anything less than the <em>utmost</em> grace and dignity.

She huffed into her book and pretended not to be eyeing the door instead of it’s pages. Glaring as though hating it personally. As if her lovelies were just on the other side waiting to see her and this stubborn door was the problem.

Creature, the stone wall, was as content as ever with the silence. Enjoying a book of his own in the corner, likely philosophy or something.

Although constant companions and wholly comfortable talking to each other, the two had worn out their conversation topics years ago. Either agreeing on certain things or tired of arguing in circles on others.

There were days when they'd debate for hours about something she was <em>clearly</em> right about and days where they pretended the other didn’t exist.

Lately he often mocked her about her ‘adoring fans’.

Judged her for how greedily she drank up the attention like a surgical sponge. Languishing in the first shreds of approval she’d had in decades.

Well, he hadn't actually said any of that, but he was thinking it! She knew he was!

She could just feel his disapproval in how easily she was letting herself get attached as if it were her own…

Bah! What does he know?

She hears them before she sees them, WAY before she sees them. The gaggle of lodgers charging up the steps with almost as much enthusiasm as they did on her first day awake.

The woman straightened immediately, practically tossing her book aside and giving her full attention to the door.

Finally, Frankenstein’s day was resuscitated as a crowd of almost every lodger in the building burst into her room. All chattering and shifting and even waving at her like her prison of a bed was a grand stage or operating theatre.

They kept a respectable distance considering how small the room was with so many people in it. And she preened under their attention, ignoring creatures sigh at his reading being interrupted.

“Frankenstein! Frankenstein!” everyone called out excitedly. Eagerly talking over each other.

Everyone was smiling and leaning around each other to get a better view of her. All their words blending together. 

A hearty laugh bubbled out of Frankenstein’s chest. They were so energetic and curious, smart and idealistic. They were perfect scientist material!

She wanted to put them all in her pocket and take them with her on her travels, tell them stories, show them the world.

Oh, how she resented that idiotic Doctor Jekyll for keeping them in a box. The way he had them eating out of his perfectly manicured hand, thanking him for their gilded cage.

Well it was about time they bit that hand!

Couldn't they see how the world was not in their books and manuscripts, it was out there!

Frankenstein held her gloved hands up to quiet the noise, taking a big breath for what was sure to be a rallying speech that would finally convince the so-called lodgers to fight for their freedom.

“Frankenstein! We have some special guests who want to meet you!”

She was cut off by a few of the lodgers. Fighting their way through the crowd, they were ushering someone to the front, entirely hidden behind the energetic scientists.

Frankenstein blinked in surprise as there, pushed out of the huddle as though in offering, were two…children.

She froze.

A cold wind rushed through her, instantly snuffing out the spark she’d held seconds ago. Cutting through her coat to her core.

The two boys in front of her were distinctive in appearance, it nagged at her, distantly. But all she could see was William.

“These are our newest recruits! Henderson and what was it? Benry? Yeah Benry.”

There was no way anyone named these unfortunate children that, unless London had gotten weird while she was gone, but the two seemed too entranced with her creature to correct them.

The boys weren't even looking at her like everyone else was, eyes instead on the homunculi like he was some celebrity they got backstage tickets to see.

“We found them snooping ‘round our labs!” “Cripes they were hard to catch.” “These two are gonna be fine scientists someday!”

The creature that had killed her youngest brother.

She understood why he did it.

She understood it was her fault.

It was her fault. For making a monster with such strength, just to see if she could. It was her fault for abandoning it, leading to the resentment and hatred for all like her. All Frankensteins.

It was her fault he was dead.

No! It was the price one paid for Science, she was wrong to have attachments then and she would not let herself get attached to these kids now. Not when it meant people got hurt. Not when - aannnnnnd Creature was letting them climb on him like monkey bars.

To her shock Creature was holding perfectly still, staring in utter befuddlement at the small things crawling on him like bugs.

As hesitant as he looked, he wasn’t stopping them. Merely watching.

It was… odd.

This had never happened to him before. Fully grown adults who were hardened from life and trained to deal with criminals turned tail at the mere sight of him, yet here were two children, gazing up at him with round eyes like he was Santa Claus.

“WOW, you’re Frankenstein's monster?!”

“Did you kill Frankenstein?”

“Are you gonna kill someone else?”

“How did Frankenstein make you?”

“Can we be friends?”

“Do you wanna play doctor with us? Mr.Tanis gave me a scalpel!”

One of the lodgers yelped, “What!? I most certainly did not!”

The way they were looking at him…

The lodgers looked at him the same way. At first he had taken it with suspicion, as he did all things. Assuming that their looks were of scientific curiosity, and that they were imagining all the ways they could dissect him. Take him apart and find out how he ticked, just like Moraue longed to.

But now, it was obvious, they were looking at him with childlike wonder.

Creature stared mutely as the lodgers wrestled the knife from the boy with brown hair, not quite understanding it yet.

The blond’s hair tickled as it brushed against his shoulder, though he did not react to it. The two children were being surprisingly careful where they placed their hands, taking care to not pull on any of his seams.

Creature watched as the little one slipped off, landing back first on his lap with an “oof”. The fall wasn't tall enough to knock the breath out of him though, so he seemed fine.

Creature lifted him up, holding the boy in one palm. He giggled in response.

One of the lodgers whose name he didn’t know called out to the boys.

“Hey! Didn’t you want ‘ta meet Frankenstein?”

The man was standing by the bed, gesturing to his creator with a smile.

The two boys gasped and scrambled to her.

The woman seemed almost startled to have her name called, snapping out of her trance.

Frankenstein shook the clashing thoughts out of her head. The two children at her bedside were staring at her, opening and closing their mouths like they couldn’t grasp what question to ask first.

She looked at the one with brown hair. She had snorted instinctively when he pulled an actual scalpel out of nowhere. A fine scientist indeed.

The blonde one had eyes like she’d never seen before. Perhaps he was some sort of creature? Or a descendant of one at least. No humans eyes produced light like that for no reason.

They looked at her like she hung the stars, like she held the secret to life itself. Which she did of course. 

No wonder these boys had snuck into the society just to see her! Why, who wouldn’t want to see the infamous Dr. Frankenstein!

And what's more, these precious children were untainted by Dr. Henry’s lies! The false ideas of what a mad scientist should be, reliant on his wealth and equipment.

Victoria had always seen herself as Job, a man who had everything taken from him, everything he loved and everyone who loved him, only to be rewarded for his faith.

She’d always seen the advancement of science as her reward for carrying out her experiments, a higher plane of understanding, the closest a human could come to godhood. But… hadn’t Job’s been everything he’d lost twofold?

Maybe, when she and Creature left London, they wouldn’t have to leave alone.

[I was struck by LIGHTNING when writing this sentence. All of the sudden a whole new plotline was open to me. One where Henry stays with the society and Edward is offered the chance to leave with Frankenstein to the _ forests.

It reminds me of gravity falls when the twins argue over Dipper taking Ford’s internship.]

Frankenstein puffed up her chest and launched into a story.

When Lanyon returned he waltzed through the kitchen door, swinging it open dramatically.

“Rachel, I'm back! I told the tailor Edward lost their bags on the trip here, so they need a new wardrobe.” he crowed, only to see an empty kitchen.

Hm, not in here. He wandered out again, peeking down random hallways.

He hadn't really told them that. As soon as he’d handed off the note and the words “childrens clothes” were out of his mouth Lady Beatrice and Lady Kimberleigh had practically mobbed him. Gushing and asking if he and Everly had finally had luck with a baby. He nearly had to beat the women off with a clothing hanger!

He shuddered at the thought of what rumors would come of this.

Regardless, the outfits were ordered and they could pick up a set in the morning.

“Rachel! Henry! Where in the blazes are you?”

“Robert!!”

He paused in the middle of the hall. That was Rachel. But he’d never heard her shout like that. She sounded almost scared, Rachel never sounded scared! Not even when Hyde disappeared after the fire.

He turned around and was surprised to see her running up to him with wide eyes, her hair a mess like she'd been running her hands through it. Her eyes red and puffy.

“Robert I’ve been looking everywhere and I <em>can’t</em> find them I can’t I've looked everywhere please tell me you know where they are.” she gasped, skidding to a stop.

His eyes widened, heartbeat picking up, “Know where- what?! Rachel you were the one who claimed <em>I</em> couldn't handle them, don’t tell me you’ve lost them already!”

The day manager tried to catch her breath, swiping a lock out of her eye.

“I was-! I took my eyes off them for just a minute! I left them to get changed while I made some sandwiches and I told- I told them to come to the kitchen after but they didn't and I went back for them but they- Robert they weren't there and I’ve <em>looked</em> everywhere oh what if they’ve left the building? Robert I <em>can’t</em> lose him again! I can’t!” she cried.

Lanyon had <em>never</em> seen her like this, she was always so sure and confident, it honestly made him nervous.

She reached out to him for a hug and he flinched back like her arms were livewires.

“Er, Well!! They can’t have gone too far! I’m sure they're just hiding or something. Kids do that, I think. Surely there's some nook or cranny you haven't checked yet!” He was stone stiff oh god where was Jekyll when you needed him, he can't comfort this poor girl!

Rachel just shook her head, curls flying, “No no I checked my room, Henry’s office, I checked all the labs and rooms and bathrooms I can’t think of anywhere else <em>to</em> look!”

“Well, they’ve gotta be here, can't the lodgers whip up some sort of, I don’t know, finding device?” He peered down the hall, hoping to flag down the nearest one and get them to deal with this. Unfortunately it seemed like he was on his own for this one.

“I don’t think that's how it works Lanyon, besides it’d take far too long, what if they're hurt?”

“Well they should at least <em>try</em>.” He huffed, “It wouldn't hurt to have more people looking either. Where are the lodgers anyway?” Now that he thought of it he hadn’t seen anyone besides Rachel since walking in.

Rachel sniffed, rubbing her face and breathing more evenly.

“Oh yeah, they were all running around earlier, some sort of emergency.

I think Griffin finally turned invisible and they lost him or something.”

She looked around, just noticing how empty the halls were.

“Uh, that was a while ago actually. They should have found him by now.”

Lanyon shifted uncomfortably. First Henry and Edward, now the whole society? Whatever was going on couldn’t be good.

In fact, it was almost suspicious how everyone had gone missing at the same time while he was gone…

“Wait. Oh god, What if the lodgers have them? The lodgers hate Henry! What if they took him away? What if they’re experimenting on him right now to find out why he’s small?!” Lanyon yelped.

Rachel frowned at him, “The lodgers do not hate Henry.”

“Oh yeah? What about the exhibition they’re all refusing to take part in? You’ve heard what they're saying about him, that he’s somehow corrupt and ‘rotten’ just because he hasn't gone off the deep end and killed anyone using science or something!”

“They're just going through a bit of a rebellious phase right now.” she defended, “And besides, even if they did, they love Hyde, they drink and play games all the time! They wouldn't hurt him.”

“That's worse!” Lanyon cried. He resisted the urge to run his hands through his styled hair, “Hyde’s planning on killing Jekyll for his will! What if the lodgers are in on it? What if they know he inherits the society? Now would be the perfect time to do it, they probably took him off to Queen Frankenstein while he’s small and defenseless!”

“Edward is <em>not</em> plotting to kill Jekyll!” Rachel shouted, “Would you give that a rest already! As for Franken..stein…”

The two looked at each other with wide eyes and bolted for the stairs.

“And that's when the beast pounced! I dropped my torch and rolled out of the way, I heard it crash into the brush behind me and took the chance to make a break for it. I ran all night, struggling to see my way in the dark and knowing it had no such human limitations. 

Miles away from civilization I knew my only chance was to somehow find Creature in the snowy woods before the beast found me.”

The lodgers gasped quietly and whispered to each other, sitting criss-crossed on the floor.

Both children were sat on Frankenstein’s lap, enraptured by her tale. They looked up at her with wide eyes, hanging on her every word.

“At one point I stumbled my way into a clearing, the…vollmond shining down on me. It was close behind, I could hear the thing snapping branches like twigs. I knew the only way was forward and started running. I could barely breathe, my legs felt like lead, with every step I took it only got closer, bounding after me on all six legs. It’s wide maw-”

The door slammed open with a bang. Everyone jumped, some people screaming in surprise.

Everyone whirled around.

At the door were two figures, hidden by the shaded doorframe.

Frankenstein huffed, more annoyed than anything. 

“Really doctor, this is the second time you've interrupted my tales for your insipid formula…Oh, the other one.”

The doctor coming toward her was not Jekyll, as she assumed, but Lanyon. The purple man was trudging through the crowd on the floor, stepping on hands and nearly tripping over people in his haste.

She crossed her arms, huffing, “Really, you and your-”

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

As soon as he was in range Robert snatched Henry off her lap. Earning a startled yelp from the boy.

Frankenstein jolted, confused. She hadn't seen this man much and while he was never the most agreeable person, she'd never seen him so furious.

She sputtered as he held the boy to his chest the way mothers did when she and Creature walked by. If she were in a better mood she’d get a kick out of the gentleman fearing her more than her creation.

“What in the world do you think you're doing? Grabbing this boy like you own him when I was <em>clearly</em>-!”

“What are you doing to him? Huh? Putting ideas in his head, trying to make him mad like you!” he accused, holding the boy tight while he squirmed uncomfortably.

“I bet you people are trying to brainwash him! Get him involved in unnatural things and mad scientist nonsense!”

Rachel, who was much shorter than the doctor and was caught behind the now-standing crowd of lodgers, tried to call out to him. “Er, Robert! I don’t think-” 

“Hey! What's your problem?” “We’re having storytime here!” “You're in the way!” “Leave him alone!” “Frankenstein ain’t done nothing wrong!”

Lanyon turned on the crowd with a snarl.

“Nothing wrong? Are you people crazy? She hit him!!”

Everyone gasped at the wild accusation. Of course they were on her side! Nevermind that Henry was just trying to help her when she hit him! Nevermind that she didn’t even have the grace to apologize!

One of the lodgers he did recognize, Helsby, immediately jumped to the quacks' defense.

“How <em>dare</em> you say that about Frankenstein! You rich pricks are all the same! Slandering good people's names when it suits you!”

“Frankenstein would never do that!”

“Yeah! We’ve been here the whole time and she never hurt him at all!”

Frankenstein herself looked unbelievably offended, her face a likely unhealthy shade of red for someone her age. “Dr. Robert I’m aware you disapprove of my presence here but I have NO intentions of hurting any child.” she spat coldly.

“Oh yeah? Even if that child is Jekyll?” He challenged.

“I- what on earth are you talking about you simpleton, that's not doctor Jekyll thats…”

Frankenstein looked at the boy squirming in his arms, <em>really</em> looked at him.

The smaller boy was still on the bed with her, pulling on the brunette in Robert’s arms. The brunette reached back, holding onto the other, looking at him with red eyes… he had a rather hooked nose…

The lodgers took up her rebuttal with vigor.

“What? Lanyon, did you hit your head man?”

“Yeah obviously that's Benry!”

Robert stared incredulously at the room full of scientists and doctors. Jaw hanging wide.

“<em>Are you telling me not a single one of you realized they're Jekyll and Hyde?!</em>”

Every person in the room stopped still.

“<em>WHAT???</em>”

“What did <em>Jekyll</em> do to get on Ito’s bad side?”

“Wait, you guys didn’t know that?”

“You did??? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I thought we all knew and just weren't talking about it!”

“WHY WOULD WE DO THAT?!”

“Oh, I thought they were Jekyll and Hyde's secret love children.”

“<em>What?!</em>”

“What, you think one of them's a girl? And besides, Hyde's only worked here the past two years, these guys are older than that!”

“So? Are you saying Hyde didn't exist before then or what? You think Hyde spontaneously came into existence two years ago? Huh?”

“Are YOU saying only girls can give birth? Some gals are guys!”

“Sure but Hyde??”

“He <em>is</em> rather short for a man his age.”

“Actually I was thinking Jekyll, he seems kinda feminine doesn't he?”

“Maybe Hyde knocked Jekyll up and recently found out about them! And he stayed to be a good father!”

“Pfft! Hyde? A good father? Now you're talking crazy.”

“I bet <em>that's</em> why Jekyll’s kept him around so long! He's the father of their children!”

Lanyon felt anger and disbelief rush through his whole body. He worked his mouth trying to say whatever was on his mind that wasn’t straight cussing.

“I - I - NEITHER OF THEM ARE WOMEN AND THESE AREN'T THEIR SECRET LOVE CHILDREN WOULD YOU LOT SHUT IT ALREADY”

Robert held a hand to his temples, his face screwed into a scowl.

“We suspect they were testing some sort of potion and something went wrong, turning them both into children.”

“Both of them drank it?” “What kind of potion?” “Wait but why don’t they remember us?” “Are they stuck like this?”

“Stuck like what?”

He stiffened. For a moment he’d entirely forgotten he was still holding Henry in his arms.

The boy was looking up at him, wide red eyes searching his face for something.

“Are-are we, we didn’t…?”

Suddenly Lanyon realized they had been hiding it. He and Rachel hadn’t mentioned who they were, why they knew them, or the real reason they couldn't go home. Hell they had even left the kitchen earlier to talk out of earshot.

They hadn’t meant to keep it from them. Honestly hiding it hadn't crossed their minds, but, neither did telling them. 

It felt wrong somehow. Like they weren't planning on having them around long enough to have the need to explain it to them. 

The boys hadn't asked why they knew them, too young to really distrust them. They just assumed all adults knew everything.

Before he had to answer and make everything worse, Rachel cut in. Now free of the jostling crowd and finally making it to Frankenstein’s bedside.

“Er, so, you remember when we found you, and we knew your names?” she asked.

The boys nod slowly, quietly looking at her.

“Well, nobody told us your names, we know them because, well I guess you told us.

We’re friends. We have been for a while, but, you two are supposed to be adults. Like us. Your names are Edward Hyde and Dr. Henry Jekyll. And you work here at the society, like we do.”

Henry tightened his hands on Robert's sleeve, face unreadable.

Edward gaped at the woman, still standing on the bed.

“But- but we’re not, we didn't drink any potions. We were at home!”

“I know, I know this doesn’t make any sense, I’m sorry for that. But, this isn’t so bad is it? We can take care of you! We’re gonna find a way to fix this. Right?”

She glanced at Robert, who was tight-lipped and looking at his friend with a distracted look in his eyes.

“Uh, right.”

“That-That’s ridiculous!!”

Right. Frankenstein was still there.

Robert slowly composed himself, the smugness he felt in realizing the woman had been speechless that whole time fueling his salty soul.

As mad as she had looked earlier, it was a cold sort of anger. This? This sputtering rage was fuming.

“This boy cannot be Dr. Henry! He is a scientist! That blasted doctor is nothing but a-a-a shameful fake and a stain on the name of science itself! Henry Jekyll is a disgrace of an alchemist and false idol of respectability and hollowness!

I detest that horrible man!” She gestured to the boy in Robert's arms, “How dare you make the wild claim that he is…that…”

Her eyes widened as she saw the expression on said boy's face.

Everyone in the room stared in horror as both kids BURST into tears.

“What is <em>wrong</em> with you??”

Rachel grabbed Henry from Robert. Who was holding the sobbing boy as far away from himself as he possibly could. Then snatched Edward up under her other arm. Storming from the room in a hurry.

She could hear Lanyon and Frankenstein start shouting behind her, quickly joined by everyone else. 

Rachel kicked the door shut behind them and sprinted all the way to Jekyll’s office.

When they got there she had to put the boys down to open the door. 

They had stopped crying by now but were eerily silent. Both looking down at their feet.

“Don’t listen to Frankenstein, both of you. That old hag's hated Dr. Jay since she got here for no reason at all! She isn’t even a real doctor!” she huffed.

Her voice hammered through the silence in a way that almost made her regret speaking at all. But the boys didn’t so much as flinch.

Creasing her eyebrows in worry, Rachel led them to the side room she knew Jekyll usually slept in instead of his own house. She's not sure exactly how old they are right now but they were definitely young enough to need a nap after all that.

As the boys walked past her she snatched Edward up into a hug and <em>squeezed</em>.

He startled, kicking his legs around. “Hey! Stop doing that!”

“Goodness sakes you two! Do you have any idea how worried I was when you ran off? I have half a mind to lecture you for leaving like that! But…”  now wasn’t a good time to scold them, “ I’ll let it slide if you chickadees lay down without a fuss.” she promised, nodding to the bedroom.

Henry looked around the room, there wasn’t much to see. More red curtains blocking out the light, a single bed pushed up against the wall, and a rather large wardrobe. Like the office, there were a lot of books, either on shelves or just the floor. There were many frames on the walls but it was too dark to make out many details.

They didn’t have shoes to remove so Rachel set Edward down on the bed, Henry hopping up next to him.

Sniffing, the two nuzzled into the pillows quietly as Rachel tucked the blankets in around them. 

Rachel is leaning against the doorway between Jekyll’s office and room when she hears the doorknob rattle.

She startles a bit, instinctively reaching for the kitchen knife in her pocket. <em>I swear to god if that wretch hobbled all the way here just to-</em>

The office door swings open to reveal Lanyon.

He blinks when he sees her, but doesn’t look too surprised. Mostly he just looks tired.

Behind him was Ito, who followed him into the room silently. She nodded at Rachel in acknowledgement, who nodded back.

Rachel peeked into the room, still asleep.

She pushed off the doorframe and with a final glance back, gently closed the door.

Lanyon sighed, stopping at Jekyll’s desk.“I talked to the lodgers, they're not to tell anyone outside of the society about this. Ms. Ito has volunteered to take a look at whatever potion they drank.”

Ito, who had been drawn by the shouting, had been given a rundown by the other lodgers. And, unamused at the grown adults all talking over each other, waited politely til Lanyon was done to offer her services.

“Dr.Jekyll taught me everything I know, if anyone can figure out what went wrong it would be me.” she stated.

“Alright, we think this is the potion they took.” Robert grabbed the glass container lying on the desk to hand to Ito, “It was the only one out of place when we came in, though neither of us actually saw them drink it.”

She nodded, taking the glass and holding it to the light.

There was very little liquid left. It looked to be a dull brown at first but when she tilted in one way and the other there was an oily red and green residue around the edges.

She sniffed at the potion, the smell alone almost made her gag. An unholy mix of so much salt she could smell it and residual fumes that made her head spin. Frankly she's surprised the two men managed to swallow this at all. Though with the things she’s seen Hyde eat maybe she shouldn’t be.

Ito sighed, “This just doesn’t make any sense, Dr. Jekyll would have measured out exact amounts, and certainly taken it one at a time if they were testing something new. Unless it had a delayed reaction.”

“What if it wasn’t something new?” Rachel suggested, “What if they did this a lot and were more casual with it?”

“Maybe, but what would they be so casual with? Do they take the same medication?”

“Mm, not that I know of. Maybe not medicine then? I know Edward drinks random potions sometimes for the hell of it.” she laughed quietly, “One time he vomited some sort of green goo in my sink and ran all the way to Jekyll's office.”

“Not to mention we practically have to force Henry to take medicine when he <em>is</em> sick.” Robert offered. The only thing he knew of Jekyll self-medicating with was wine, and it didn't typically de-age people by almost thirty years.

Ito poked around the desk in silence. She knew Dr. Jekyll was usually a dedicated note-taker, but again, if this was something he did often there would be no reason to.

Frustratingly, the habit of putting ingredients away after herself that the doctor tried so hard to drill into her was working against them now.

Usually it meant that volatile materials weren't lying around waiting to be knocked over and cause messes, or even small explosions. But in this case it meant she had no idea what ingredients were used in this experiment.

Dammit. She sighed and turned to Rachel and Lanyon.

“Alright, so basically I have no clue what this was originally supposed to do, much less how it went wrong, much less how to reverse it. 

I can take a closer look at this with some equipment but this isn’t a lot to work with.”

The two looked at her in shock, like she’d grown another head.

Robert bit his lip, tiredness quickly replaced with nervous energy.

“Can’t you just, give them a potion that makes them older?��� he asked.

Ito made a face. “I…don’t think that would be a good idea. If we forced them to grow up they still wouldn't have any of their old memories, they'd just be adult-shaped children. And that's <em>if</em> something like that would work and not mix negatively with whatever they've taken. For all we know this could be a temporary side effect, and changing anything would mess everything up.”

“So they just, won’t remember us? Everything we’ve done together, everything we’ve talked about, all the time we spent together is just gone?” Rachel cried, “There's nothing we can do to get them back?”

Robert clenched his fists on the desk.

Ito sighed, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear but I think the best thing to do is just try to wait this out.”

She refused to say something so terrible out loud, but there might not be a solution to this.

Lanyon’s expression is blank with shock, then twists into anger.

“Well are we just supposed to wait forever?! Wait for them to grow up naturally? What about our friends? Our- our-!”

Ito clenched her jaw, “They’re my friends too.” she snapped.

“Look, there’s not much I can do with the information we have, Dr. Lanyon.

Even if I knew what went wrong and how to reverse this we'd need a ton of body parts. One of the most basic rules of alchemy is that mass can't be made or destroyed and I’m not even sure where it went when they shrank!” she said, throwing her hands up.

The neo alchemist took what remained of the potion and walked out of the room, leaving the two leaning over the desk in despair.

“I'll keep working on it but please, don’t get your hopes up.”

She closed the office door behind her to give them some privacy.

[apolloagain]

Chapter 40.

Damn. Okay. I have thoughts and feelings. Was glad the other day to see the author thanking someone for a comment that "gets it" because my hubris makes me think that I Get It and would so prove that if I had an ao4 account yet (and yeah it was a good comment lol). But this one has challenged me!

I felt my "indignant" levels go through the ROOF this chapter. We all knew that Sarah's suffocation plan wasn't going to work, but that made it quite easy to root for her attempt. So seeing that fail - and I don't know about anyone else, but that was my last stab at a suicide plan for her - and then the doctor's "Lucky you don't have a choice" after her very sincere but pragmatic speech that could not make her wishes clearer... damn, I mean, I felt the frustration. I really really did. Like some fucked up cousin of Kafka where the system is completely built to circumvent yourself despite your best efforts, except everyone won't STOP caring and "loving" you. Notice how I put loving in quotes? I've been enjoying living through Sarah vicariously, feeling her rage and humiliation but also enjoying it, being a step above as the horny dream-god-reader I am. But this time... well, sure, still doing that a little, maybe. But feeling Sarah's nightmare quiteeee a lot this time! I FELT felt that trapped rage and humiliation and it DIDNT feel good!

First of all, like said, the lead up really has made this a claustrophobic and aggravating place. But then the punishment... okay, damn, look, the spanking before was hot, but somewhat subdued. Even the degradation seemed to end very quickly. But this... wow, jesus fucking christ. Way beyond that. I mean, whipping her BACK???? That's fucked up! That's really visceral! Jesus!!! I'm not at all surprised to hear that every other instance has been under that threshold, but wow, yeah, this one... double the threshold... I can believe that too! Sure, sure, making her say "Yes Mistress" is hot and dommy and whatever, except honestly, the actual content of the punishment is such an upsetting change of pace that I can barely take that in.

This sounds a little like a criticism - it's nothing more than my honest reaction. In reading all of these chapters, I guess I make meta-fantasies. So here's the one I realised I was having for this one: I really wanted Sarah to not back down. The glorious human spirit, I don't care what you call it. I want her to keep saying how until she's been abused to a shocking point. I want Rose to realise what she's done in a savage-hypocrisy- in claiming to love her, instead inflicted real physical damage and torture and really, really hurt Sarah. I wanted the guilt to come crashing down on her, for her to try and say sorry but know nothing can help, for to realise that she took a massive gambit and it FAILED, Sarah WON, the bluff was called and Rose went above it and is a monster for it and Sarah still didn't back down even though she's asking to die and part of Rose really now can see why, which makes her want to as well.

This sounds like a pretty morbid and sadistic fantasy. It IS morbid, but it's not sadistic- again, Sarah being whipped on the back was honestly not nice for me. It's more a fantasy of childish self-pity, like a "They'll all be sorry about how I treated me" catharsis. I don't think I'm the only one who wants it, as you can see in the comments confidently projecting their "predictions" (see: not so subtle wants) saying that Rose will soon find out that torture doesn't work. Sorry guys, but I don't think it's going to NOT not work!

Most of my fantasies have been, sans Sarah submitting and loving the affini, kind of from Rose's desires- that is to say, it's taken delight in the adored cooing and embarassment of watching Sarah play pretend on screen, even though I think that I've experienced a lot of that fantasy THROUGH the placed-perspective of Sarah (urgh, there are literary terms for what I'm trying to distinguish here, but even if I could remember them it would be muddled by me being a messy switch lol). But what happens right after Rose's eyes are glowing then? Sarah poops the party with Facts and Logic, putting what she's doing both matter of factly - Hab wouldn't make her feel "self-conscious" - and presenting it as a bad thing Rose is doing that further proves that her narrative of "love" is self-serving and illegitimate. When she does this, Sarah has to fight holding back a smirk. That's HER bratty ol' fantasy, a self-satisfied rage against the machine that's not just calling them klats and being violent to herself/rude to them, but undermining their control, shaping the narrative her way, no, fuck you, I can condescend right back because this is a disgrace, I'm indignant, I'm RIGHT, this is NOT the story you think it is, fuck you, I hate you, die. That's a cathartic fantasy in and of itself. And I've indulged in that meta before reading this... but not much. Firstly, because from the title alone we know that it's a foregone conclusion. Secondly, because the other one is hotter lol. But thirdly... well, look at how I'm feeling indulging heavily in those emotions and narrative right now. I wanted Sarah's suicide to work! Beyond that, I wanted Rose to go overboard and harm Sarah ONLY so that she can feel bad about having done so. Undermining Rose's system by undermining Sarah. It's self harm, ultimately. Sorry Sarah, but the horrible truth is that your way of life leads to harm. It's too destructive a fantasy, ultimately helping no one.

And yet... and yet this chapter did still make my indignation levels go critical. And I think that despite looking forward very much to the next few chapters, I found this one less enjoyable than maybe I was meant to. Ifelt bad for Sarah man, I just did! Am I taking it too seriously? Am I getting too wrapped up? And YET And Yet... that comment that had the author saying they "definitely get it"? Well, I take comfort from it, because I think I really DO get it- because here's part of it:

Sarah has made a lot of really good points. It does make me hope that Sarah will be able to win some sort of victory. It won’t be a total win - a total win against the Affini is impossible. But some sort of concession or something. You know?

I do know. Apparently we'll be heading to the C Chapters soon, so I have little faith in Sarah holding out for some melodramatic shadow of what my righteous justice wants here- she'll be saying Yes Mistress eventually, progress will be achieved, and I imagine the next few chapters of her Actual Punishment are going to be a lot of fun again, hopefully in a more attractive way than how genuinely shocking the back whip thing was. But overall.... well. Like I said, there are two fantasies at play here, and I believe they both need satisfaction, and I believe Ms Floss (feel like that's a good way to distinguish between character and writer lol) knows that too. I think that by the end of this story, Sarah will be sprouting by some of her own terms as well. It wouldn't be right to have her whole heartedly become a Winston Smith without any rebellion meaning anything, because I wouldn't be able to love Big Brother myself. Sarah's fire will burn, the Affini leaves will catch it somewhat, and there'll be a small mutual respect and understanding for the girl who stoked it. Even if most of said relationship is built on her being the most adorable floret the world's ever seen, who can't believe they were ever so nasty and allergic to happiness and are sure to get teased and reminded by Rose for it.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.

"Every Sophont is a Seed" is a really good HDG fic. Sarah rages like a force of nature, her resistance to the Affini is incredibly strong-willed and really feels like a proper fight (despite, you know, the inevitable). There's good reason for it too- to be THAT much of a fighter, you can't just be intelligent and stubborn, but genuinely, well, mentally unwell and destructive. The arc is going to be a long and richly deserved one.

Also it's hot, also it's regularly updated.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

"fandom discourse isnt that serious" yeah duh but i feel like i should be allowed to talk about things like people being misogynistic or justifying abuse without being told im complaining too much or something, when these are such extremely prevalent issues in fandom 😭

[opqrstuv04]

Still thinking about Hozier and am currently feeling incredulous about the “fairy goblin gentle bog man” perception so many people have of him. WHERE did that all come from??? Solely from Wasteland, Baby???? Listening back to self titled is insane because nearly all of the songs are overtly or subtextually sexual or political, or both! Take Me to Church goes straight into Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene, there’s a brief upbeat interlude with Someone New but goes right back into it with To Be Alone. It Will Come Back. Foreigner’s God!! The “goblin”est songs off this album as far as I can pick are In a Week and Like Real People Do, and even those are so much richer than -core ing them enables them to be. For 2014 I’d say this is music that borders on gritty and morbid, it’s not designed to be palatable. AND YET!! The complexity of Hozier’s music being boiled down to an easily accessible aesthetic makes me want to 💥💥💥‼️

[daesungindistress]

[closed]

[columblorbo]

.

[reigningm4x]

You try way too hard with fic writers and the way you talk about their fics are you ever normal

no :)

[oranberrie]

Ah the autistic experience of randomly remembering a situation from your childhood and realizing things

[hellohoihey]

I love being obsessed with things. Like I'll come up with the weirdest scenarios for said thing to come into conversation, but whenever I find out someone else knows and likes that thing we'll talk about it for five sentences max.

[cookinguptales]

So I’ve been enjoying the Disney vs. DeSantis memes as much as anyone, but like. I do feel like a lot of people who had normal childhoods are missing some context to all this.

I was raised in the Bible Belt in a fairly fundie environment. My parents were reasonably cool about some things, compared to the rest of my family, but they certainly had their issues. But they did let me watch Disney movies, which turned out to be a point of major contention between them and my other relatives.

See, I think some people think this weird fight between Disney and fundies is new. It is very not new. I know that Disney’s attempts at inclusion in their media have been the source of a lot of mockery, but what a lot of people don’t understand is that as far as actual company policy goes, Disney has actually been an industry leader for queer rights. They’ve had policies assuring equal healthcare and partner benefits for queer employees since the early 90s.

I’m not sure how many people reading this right now remember the early 90s, but that was very much not industry standard. It was a big deal when Disney announced that non-married queer partners would be getting the same benefits as the married heterosexual ones.

Like — it went further than just saying that any unmarried partners would be eligible for spousal benefits. It straight-up said that non-same-sex partners would still need to be married to receive spousal benefits, but because same-sex partners couldn’t do that, proof that they lived together as an established couple would be enough.

In other words, it put long-term same-sex partners on a higher level than opposite-sex partners who just weren’t married yet. It put them on the exact same level as heterosexual married partners.

They weren’t the first company ever to do this, but they were super early. And they were certainly the first mainstream “family-friendly” company to do it.

Conservatives lost their damn minds.

Protests, boycotts, sermons, the whole nine yards. I can’t tell you how many books about the evils of Disney my grandmother tried to get my parents to read when I was a kid.

When we later moved to Florida, I realized just how many queer people work at Disney — because historically speaking, it’s been a company that has guaranteed them safety, non-discrimination, and equal rights. That’s when I became aware of their unofficial “Gay Days” and how Christians would show up from all over the country to protest them every year. Apparently my grandmother had been upset about these days for years, but my parents had just kind of ignored her.

Out of curiosity, I ended up reading one of the books my grandmother kept leaving at our house. And friends — it’s amazing how similar that (terrible, poorly written) rhetoric was to what people are saying these days. Disney hires gay pedophiles who want to abuse your children. Disney is trying to normalize Satanism in our beautiful, Christian America. 

Just tons of conspiracy theories in there that ranged from “a few bad things happened that weren’t actually Disney’s fault, but they did happen” to “Pocahontas is an evil movie, not because it distorts history and misrepresents indigenous life, but because it might teach children respect for nature. Which, as we all know, would cause them all to become Wiccans who believe in climate change.”

Like — please, take it from someone who knows. This weird fight between fundies and Disney is not new. This is not Disney’s first (gay) rodeo. These people have always believed that Disney is full of evil gays who are trying to groom and sexually abuse children.

The main difference now is that these beliefs are becoming mainstream. It’s not just conservative pastors who are talking about this. It’s not just church groups showing up to boycott Gay Day. Disney is starting to (reluctantly) say the quiet part out loud, and so are the Republicans. Disney is publicly supporting queer rights and announcing company-supported queer events and the Republican Party is publicly calling them pedophiles and enacting politically driven revenge.

This is important, because while this fight has always been important in the history of queer rights, it is now being magnified. The precedent that a fight like this could set is staggering. For better or for worse, we live in a corporation-driven country. I don’t like it any more than you do, and I’m not about to defend most of Disney’s business practices. But we do live in a nation where rights are largely tied to corporate approval, and the fact that we might be entering an age where even the most powerful corporations in the country are being banned from speaking out in favor of rights for marginalized people… that’s genuinely scary.

Like… I’ll just ask you this. Where do you think we’d be now, in 2023, if Disney had been prevented from promising its employees equal benefits in 1994? That was almost thirty years ago, and look how far things have come. When I looked up news articles for this post from that era, even then journalists, activists, and fundie church leaders were all talking about how a company of Disney’s prominence throwing their weight behind this movement could lead to the normalization of equal protections in this country.

The idea of it scared and thrilled people in equal parts even then. It still scares and thrills them now.

I keep seeing people say “I need them both to lose!” and I get it, I do. Disney has for sure done a lot of shit over the years. But I am begging you as a queer exvangelical to understand that no. You need Disney to win. You need Disney to wipe the fucking floor with these people.

Right now, this isn’t just a fight between a giant corporation and Ron DeSantis. This is a fight about the right of corporations to support marginalized groups. It’s a fight that ensures that companies like Disney still can offer benefits that a discriminatory government does not provide. It ensures that businesses much smaller than Disney can support activism.

Hell, it ensures that you can support activism.

The fight between weird Christian conspiracy theorists and Disney is not new, because the fight to prevent any tiny victory for marginalized groups is not new. The fight against the normalization of othered groups is not new.

That’s what they’re most afraid of. That each incremental victory will start to make marginalized groups feel safer, that each incremental victory will start to turn the tide of public opinion, that each incremental victory will eventually lead to sweeping law reform.

They’re afraid that they won’t be able to legally discriminate against us anymore.

So guys! Please. This fight, while hilarious, is also so fucking important. I am begging you to understand how old this fight is. These people always play the long game. They did it with Roe and they’re doing it with Disney.

We have! To keep! Pushing back!