#i have the internet but why make patching such a bother

[nerozane]

150GBs???? Seriously???

[igotanidea]

Too hot to handle: Jason Todd x reader

SMUT MDNI!

As usual sorry for all the typos, grammar mistakes etc. I really had to post it XD

***

Y/N was fuming.

For no reason at all, falling down the internet hole, she found herself on some stupid forum for stupid horny women who couldn't keep it in their pants.

Clearly those bitches were getting hot and bothered for Red Hood, shamelessly sharing their dirty thoughts and comments on some parts of his body and the things he'd let him do if--

Fuck.

She could have Tim or Babs trace their IP addresses in a second and could pay them a visit of a very possessive, angered and super jealous girlfriend.

Her hands were almost itching to write a few spicy comments herself, spilling the beans of whose body Red Hood was touching almost every night. Whose lips he was devouring. Whose most sensitive parts he was tasting with his tongue, begging for as much as a drop of sweetness. Whose moans and gasps he got to hear, whose voice was his drug, whose curves he was worshiping on his knees.

Obviously, she couldn't do that, but the thought of Jason's muscled body on top of her, his hands tracing her skin and joining her in the intimate dance had a side effect seeping through her panties. 

She needed him. 

With the need that could not be satisfied with her fingers or even the toys she had stacked safely in the locked bottom drawer.

Jason ...

Come home...

Can't you sense how much I want you now...

She almost prayed to the moon on the sky to bring her lover back to her. 

***

That little tingling on his skin was something new and as much as he hated to put the thought into words, it was like a spider-sense. The one of Y/N’s second favorite self-appointed hero – spiderman.

Y/n…

Was that feeling because she was in danger?

Did someone hurt her? Did anyone dare lay a finger on his precious girl?

Jason gritted his teeth, clenching fists, anger at a purely potential enemy flooded his brain.

It was a quiet night either way, giving him a perfect opportunity to take a quick detour and check on his angel. Just a look and assurance that she was safe, to help him keep going and push him through all the shit and doubts.

Y/n….

***

He did not expect her to sit in front of Netflix at 2 am. She had work in the morning so why on earth was she watching the series?

“Hey!” he called, probably a little bit too loud, causing her to jump on the couch and almost drop the mug. “Sorry…”

“Next time give me a heads up, will you?” she muttered with a pout.

“Um- okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“Nothing.” Y/N scoffed angrily, turning back to the TV.

“Can I please get my girlfriend back? You know, the other one? Nice and caring? The one who would ask me if I’m hurt or maybe need patching or a post-patrol kiss?” Jason teased moving in front of the screen, successfully blocking it from her view. “Wait… Y/N, are you watching “Too hot to handle?" His laugh filled the room, because honestly that might have been the funniest thing in the whole week. His serious, a bit reserved, goody-two-shoes girl had her eyes on the show about horny singles.

“Shut up…”

“Oh, I will most definitely not shut up about it. Are you hinting at something, here? Cause you know, you don’t need a show like this if—” he switched a little, coming closer and leaning over her silhouette on the couch

“Shut up, Jason!”

“Whoa!” his hands raised in feigned surrender “someone’s feisty today, aren’t you?”

“I’m not feisty. I’m furious!”

“At what?”

“Girls!”

“Wait, what?” Jason frowned “I am confused.

“Girls! Women! The ones who are trying to bang and –”

“I thought you liked banging?” he sent her a knowing smirk

“Jason!”

 “Come on, sunshine, you cannot hide that blush.” He pointed out, brushing fingers over her reddened cheeks, raising her head so she had to look into his eyes “What’s gotten into you? Tell me the truth.”

“Stupid internet.”

“Mhm. Okay. Care to elaborate?”

“Did you know the girls are getting hot for the Red Hood on some stupid forum?”

“Nope. Did not. But… did it make you jealous?” he smirked, expecting her to deny and squirm in embarrassment that he accused her of such low feelings.

“Yeah…” Much to his surprise, she decided to be honest. It truly was a strange night. “Yeah, I was. Jealous and furious. Hence the “Too hot to handle” marathon.”

“Hm? Can’t see the correlation.”

“It’s so shallow and selfish and mean, but – the show is so silly and most possibly fabricated. I may, or may not have been trying to diminish women who are openly horny….?” Her voice became barely audible at the end, as if she was ashamed to admit her own .

“Oh, you silly little one.” Jason laughed, pulling her onto his lap and brushing hair out of her forehead. “You could have led with that.” His lips brushed over her forehead

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“You should have told me, that coming across girls leching over me-“

“Over Red Hood!” she interrupted and he only laughed again.

“Over me” he underlined  “- got your knickers in a twist.”

“It did not!”

Great, now she was trying to deny it. Too bad it was too late and he was in the mood for the games anymore. He felt the need to assure her that she was the one, though also expressing appreciation for said open horniness and for a little bit of jealousy. It made his ego soar.

“Didn’t it?” he teased, grabbing onto her waist and laying her on her back, hovering over her, moving fingers up her leg, until it reached the hem of her sleeping shorts. “Maybe I should check myself then?”

His hand brushed over the inside of her thigh, causing her to let out a sharp exhale.

“Oh, right… My little minx is not wearing panties at all. So it seems like you have been telling the truth after all. You did not get them in a twist…”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her, a sudden sweet distraction allowing him to yank those silly little shorts down, exposing her want without any care in the world. Opening her legs and wrapping them on his waist, without breaking the kiss for even a second, Jason pressed his weight on her, distributing it evenly on his forearms, to not crash her.

“Mmm. Tease.”

“And you love every second of it.” He smirked, grinding against her core, sacrificing his favorite tactical pants to her warmth and wetness. Not much of an exorbitant price for what was waiting at the finish line.

And even though it was just the beginning of the marathon, they were already gasping heavily, grasping onto each other, pulling each other closer and closer. She was so needy and he loved it. The more bothered she was, the easier it got for him to end on the winner’s podium. His cock was hardening by a second, making it almost painful to be kept in the pants, but he was holding back.

“Jason…” she moaned, reaching down his torso, sneaking hand under the waistband.

“Not yet, baby.” All she got in return was her hands pinned above her head in a very vulnerable position, completely at his mercy. And to add to it all, Jason lips attached to her pulse point, sucking the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a dark purple hickey. The one she wouldn’t be able to cover easily. “Not yet…” the grip on her wrists faltered for a second, but not enough to allow her to break free.

Jason was skillful and knew exactly what he was doing.  Feeding her with the false hope of freedom only for a second, only to grab her hands in one hand, using the other to roll her sleeping shirt up, exposing her breasts, but not taking it off fully.

“Hello, lovelies…” he muttered, before diving between her tits, getting the arching back and multiple sounds of pleasure in return. “Yeah… keep those sounds coming, baby…”

His lips traced a scorching path down her cleavage, making her want skyrocket, smirking upon the feeling of her legs tightening on his waist and her hips grinding against her jeans.

“Not yet.” He commanded again, pressing her back flat onto the couch. “Not yet…” his eyes flashed with something primal and animalistic. There was something devilishly turning on with having her naked under him, while he didn’t shed a single piece of clothing. And he was going to exploit that opportunity to the maximum.

With a quiet laugh that sounded almost sinful, Jason bent down and traced tongue over the flesh of her soft, warm breast, purposefully avoiding the little pink button that was begging for his attention. Yes, his ego was skyrocketing upon hearing her cries of pleasure and broken gasps of his name on her swollen lips, followed by the flexing of her body against his touch.

Yes, he might have been acting a little dominant, but they both knew it was not going to go on forever. 

Deep inside Jason was sweet and romantic, definitely putting soft, tender lovemaking over hard and rough sex.

And really, it didn’t take him long to give in to her pleadings and entreaties, moving lips to her nipple, sucking and biting on it gently.

“Oh yes!” she cried out, closing her eyes and from that moment things started taking on the pace. Jason groaned from the sensation of her breast in his mouth, letting go of her wrists, allowing her hands to tangle in his hair, only adding to the feelings burning inside his chest and groin. Abandoning lavishing attention on her chest, he guided her hands to the hem of his shirt and with  interlaced fingers and eyes never faltering from each other’s face they pulled it over his head, exposing his toned upper body, covered with fresh bruises and cuts.

“So you are hurt…” she whispered, touching the pads of her fingers to the newest purple mark on his pec.

“I didn’t notice…” his voice was deep, calming and full of adoration “All I notice right now is you…” he grabbed her hand pressing it to his lips, kissing all over her knuckles.

“Then come feel me too…” she moved upwards, pressing her lips to his, wanting to feel that chapped warmth on hers. And once their mouths met it was a sensation incomparable with anything else. Ironically (or not) making out like this, with their entwined bodies, separated only by the material of his pants, slowly, tenderly, focused only on each other, leaving the whole world behind was turning her on more than actual penetration.

Which did not mean she didn’t want to go all the way.

“Is it time yet?” she whispered, with a little bit of teasing in her voice, breaking the kiss only for a second.

“You are ruining the moment, sunshine.” He chuckled, tracing kisses up her cheek, all the way to her ear, softly biting on her earlobe, causing more tickling than actual pain. Y/N responded with a little chuckle as well, cupping his cheek, bringing his lips back to hers once more. Without breaking the making out for even one second, Y/N removed his belt and undid the button on his pants. Then, with a few kicks and swings of legs, they managed to set him free from his confines, finally feeling each other from head to toe.

“How’s your jealousy doing now…?” he teased, guiding himself to her entrance, grabbing onto her waist, rolling his fingers in tiny circles on her sensitive skin.

“Who’s ruining the moment now?”

“No idea. Who?” he chuckled. It was so good being with her like this. In the moment of intimacy, that was meaningful but deprived of the seriousness that could ruin the tenderness. Perfect mix of softness and love, seasoned with a bit of well balanced humor and  sarcasm that bonded them in the first place. “You ready for me, baby?”

“So ready.” She smiled, shifting and squirming to allow him to slide inside better and maximize the pleasure of unity for them both.

“Mh. Hello there…” he smirked and without missing a bit started to move inside her. Slowly, but intensely. Building up and drawing the tension. Moving hands on her body in time with the thrusts, fueling the fire that was meant to warm but not burn. “Is this what you wanted?” he looked at her face searching for the answers behind those e/c eyes, filled with longing and devotion.  

“Yeah… Good thing you helped me realize what it was that I wanted…” she started matching his movements, kissing him again.

The tension between their bodies was building slowly and steadily. There was no rush. They had all the time in the world, that suddenly shrunk to only them two.

Jason and Y/n.

Y/n and Jason.

Together.

Connecting seamlessly, with bodies joined and heart beating only for one another. Creating their own bubble of beauty and wonder in the darkness and danger of Gotham.

“I love you…” he muttered, leaning forehead on hers, needing to say those words before everything turn into the blur and haze due to the slowly approaching tidal wave of climax.

“I love you…” she responded, feeling the exact same need, knowing well enough that those three little words exchanged before the post-bliss was far more meaningful and far more true.

***

“How’s the hate on horny women doing now?” he muttered against her hair, some time later. It could have been minutes as well as hours cause once they busted the pleasure door open time suddenly became relative and meaningless.

“Hm? What women? Wait a second. Are you really trying to tell me there are other women somewhere?’ she looked at him with a tease, raising an eyebrow playfully. “I am fairly convinced there are only you and me. No other men or women anywhere.”

“Hm… What I’m hearing is that I’m the only guy in the world for you?”

“It depends on—”

“Because sure as hell you are the only woman for me.” He added quickly, knowing what her condition was. “And no silly internet forum or contestant of so-called hot, naughty Netflix show could change it.”

“You got soft, Red Hood.” She smiled, nuzzling into his chest and placing a little kiss on his chest, close to his heart

“I can be hard when it counts, though.” His heart picked up the pace as her lips touched his skin “Honestly I can be anything you may need from me.”

“How about we both stay ourselves?”

“Works for me.”

Jason's arms wrapped around her pulling her to his chest for more and more aftercare and cuddles. It was a quiet night after all and he could indulge in some time with his beloved Y/N.

[heartfullofleeches]

The Blacksmith

Yan Deity HCs [Request]

Tw: Self Harm

-

- Blacksmith isn't what most would gods would consider being one of their own. For the better part of its existence, The Blacksmith has functioned akin to a machine rather than his own individual self. Acting on orders given by those above him was all he knew until the punishment of gods through extensive torture was shunned upon by many. Blacksmith was free to do as they wished, but they're generally stumped to the workings of society outside of what their created purpose.

- Love as humans and even some gods express it is unfamiliar to the Blacksmith. Their creators greatest mistakes was teaching it the painful side of love without the innocence of something puee. He was instilled with the knowledge that any sign of weakness should not be allowed. That being said, a strange warm fills its chest whenever you treat it kindly. He does not deserve the gesture- Are you toying with it because you truly believe he is beneath you?

"My Lord.... I do not understand the purpose of this so called "hug" you have bestowed upon me.... I did not ask you to stop."

- There is no room for error in Blacksmith's eyes. As he adapts to the mortal understanding of affection, Blacksmith showers you with gifts and gestures to prove they are willing to even the playing field with you. If he brings you something you are allergic to or simply not a fan of its wise to keep sharp objects from him until you can calm him down and assure him it was a common mistake.

"May the spill of my blood grant me your forgiveness.. Had I heard you clearer I would not have made this mistake."

"It's cool, dude- Pizza is pizza."

- The Blacksmith is immortal and heals relatively quickly, which is why if you bother to patch them up when they do get hurt their brain just kinda shortcuts for a while. You are the mortal in the situation. Those supplies would be better saved for you. Is this what it means to care for another out of the generosity of one's heart(s)? Is this love? Logically, when you are injured they must return the sentiment.

"Please hold still, My Lord. The cast is almost complete."

"Isn't this a bit excessive? It was only a splinter."

"... Negative."

- The Blacksmith has a hidden profession of making music boxes. It is a tad embarrassed due to the macabre nature of the other objects it creates, but as they learn more if your world it develops a small obsession with the melodies they produce and their mechanisms. He leaves ones he is most proudest of in your bedroom - expecting you to somehow have no clue how it ended up there.

- Blacksmith can easily remove their helmet - they just don't want to. He has been described as beautiful by gods who have met it after the incident due to their eyes, but as for the appearance of its face as a whole no-one knows. It wears the iron maiden to atone for its sin of nearly condemning an innocent god, but it also believes those gods were liars and that its face will disgust you. If you argue back that are gorgeous regardless of if you've seen it or not, The Blacksmith has no choice but to take your word as truth since they trust you not to lie to them.

- Enjoys classical music. Cannot dance to save it's own skin, but would greatly admire your dancing no matter your skill level.

- One rule you must keep in mind is to not give Blacksmith access to the Internet. He will absorb modern lingo and relationship advice like a sponge. It confuses him greatly, but considering you are from this time it might be the key to winning your heart.

"Have a good day at work...Pookie."

[dnfao3tags]

Monthly Fic Roundup - December 2023

an end to an...interesting year ! and the beginning of hopefully even more interesting one

make sure to leave some love because thats what fuels this fandom :]

— no more fucks given 2023 daily fic advent by alisonsomething, dizzy, Scoops (consciousness_streaming)

not entirely dnf but has a whole bunch of goodies! check them all out.

— calico by indigoh (teen | comp. | 22k)

On the eve of Dream's 24th birthday, Patches goes missing. And it's all George's fault.

— sticky situation with you by boneblanket (expl. | comp. | 5k)

In the beginning of spring, half a year into living together, their relationship still toes the line between routine and rupture. George isn’t bothered by it, but he isn’t satisfied either. He isn’t the only one struggling.

Part 1 of heaven knows

— you play it back (time moves too fast) by jack_not_found (teen | comp. | 6k)

winter weather foils dream's plans for their first anniversary, but george refuses to let that stop them from celebrating

— give you my wild by furculaed (teen | comp. | 6k | mpreg)

When George thinks of kids, he thinks of the dinner table.

— WARNING: no lifeguard on duty. swim at your own risk by sappymix1 (teen | comp. | 10k)

Dream is a witch new to LA and George is a cursed siren he finds living in a swimming pool.

— hit the brakes my mistake by cqfnce (teen | comp. | 5k)

dream and george are soulmates- best friends since they were young, but separated by an ocean. meeting in person is all they've ever wanted- but will it change their friendship?

— to new beginnings by hardtofindneuro (teen | comp. | 33k)

George tells his family he's dating Dream to get them off his back. Then, Dream shows up at his doorstep.

— The Best Bad Idea by gottagetshiver (teen | comp. | 13k)

in which Dream tags along with George to his family Christmas where George finally opens up about his first kiss, he and Dream try and fail to help with readying the house for the holidays, and Dream endears himself to anyone within earshot. Oh, and they have to share George's childhood bed.

— i built a home for you, for me (a place i don't feel alone) by brokenlikeastitch (teen | comp. | 28k)

Dream and George's Christmases together over the years.

— All About The Wedding by sageafk (expl. | comp. | 10k)

Dream usually uses George's name to avoid doxxing at hotels and restaurants. But the hotel calls and says they need to know why the name on his card and reservation are different, and Dream panics and tells them that he and George are married.

— make a scene (it's your set) by dangergranger, shadeofblue (jarofhearts) (expl. | wip | 51k+)

George goes partying, sleeps with a guy named Clay, and takes an adorable selfie with his cat that kinda breaks the internet. A few days later, Dream enters the picture.

— when the clock hits zero (will you be mine) by justcallme_m (teen | comp. | 15k)

Dream meets George at a New Year’s Party and falls hard in one night.

— Arizona Green Tea by pondsofkoi (teen | comp. | 20k)

george has a crush on the baritone captain

[metamatar]

i appreciate ur semi pedantic additions!! i almost always learn things from them. i am autistic though so pedantry rarely bothers me, but!! i do still really appreciate your additions wrt fruit picking, the state of open insulin, etc, and i think they're important to add and you phrase those additions in ways that don't undermine the arguments of the original posts which is a rare skill!!

im cursed with can't let people be wrong on the internet in front of me.

i've mentioned this before but i find the relationship many people have with technology both fascinating and frustrating. tech is simultaneously capable of all the miracles in the ad copy but also all those miracles were actually very easy. there's very little sense of the relative extent to which problems are easy or hard, what counts as a breakthrough and whether those breakthroughs are even generalisable to other problems.

i dont think these really require expert knowledge – say autonomous driving – if you have played with the camera in your phone and then break down all the decisions a driver makes while you drive has you'd immediately understand why that is much harder than an aircraft autopilot and why a camera only sensor suite is dangerous.

people often confuse the actual availability of bathtub-ish hrt with a hypothetical bathtub insulin. think about delivery – you can get birth control in so many forms, injectable, oral, patches. insulin still has to be injected! this is suggestive! looking at how synthetic ethinylestradiol (most common estrogen) is produced vs a biologic like insulin is produced immediately makes clear why these are different problems.

to be clear this relationship is one manufactured by breathless venture capital and the increasing enclosure of science and technological literacy behind paywalls. tech journalism is really bad and basically about access and selling products now.

[captainclickycat]

My actually-controversial internet opinion is that people need to stop being dicks about people who let their cats go outdoors. No, really.

So this isn't even me saying "don't try to persuade people to keep their cats indoors". I think educating people about that is absolutely a worthwhile goal. There are many good and solid reasons to keep your cat indoors. I also do not want to play a game of Traffic Roulette where I have to just accept that my little friend might one day just get hit by a car and die or wander off and disappear forever and I'm supposed to just be cool with that happening. And yeah, I fully agree that it's weird and annoying that this is somehow considered an unreasonable stance to take about your beloved pet. I also understand that concepts like domestic cats making a considerable dent in bird populations and potentially spreading viruses are issues that should be seriously taken into account and not just brushed off as "oh well, what can you do."

However.

So first of all, let's imagine a scenario here. Let's say that someone sees all these arguments on the internet, and they think "hey yes, they have some very salient points. Maybe I should start keeping my cat indoors from now on."

...so they try to put this into practise. They make sure all the doors are shut, seal off all possible escape routes, and do their best to convey to little Billy that he doesn't get to play in the garden anymore, for his own safety.

And Billy doesn't like that. He gets stressed and bored and restless. He spends a considerable amount of time just standing in front of the door yelling his head off, obviously desperate to go out, even though they're doing their best to entertain him. He gains a troubling amount of weight. He starts over-grooming himself to the point where he has bald patches. They try putting him on a lead, but he obviously hates the lead and spends the whole time chewing on it or trying to wriggle out of it. It's clear that this transition is causing him a not-inconsiderable amount of distress.

So obviously, Billy's human is very concerned by this. They understand why it's not a good idea to go back to letting their cat roam around unsupervised outdoors, but they can also see their cat is severely stressed and struggling to adjust and they wouldn't have the first idea of how to make it better. Furthermore, this person has grown up with cats themselves, and the notion that it's unethical to let cats go outdoors is completely new to them. And it's not just a new idea, it's basically the antithesis to what they were always taught. From their point of view, for the vast majority of their life it was considered cruel, maybe even a little irresponsible, to not let your cat go outdoors.

As in, if you said to someone that you wanted to keep your cat indoors all the time, they would basically react in the same way they would if you said that you wanted to try to feed your cat a vegetarian diet. Like oh gosh, of course I respect your decision, but don't you think that maybe that's going against their nature and it would be a lot healthier for them if you let them go out. And as much as the judgemental Tumblr crowd don't like to admit it, those people also think they're looking out for the welfare of people's pets. They're not thinking "oh well, I'm just not going to bother doing the extra work it takes to look after an indoor cat; I'd rather just leave it all in god's hands and if something happens oh well", they're thinking "My cat's happiness and wellbeing matters more than my personal anxieties, that's why I'm not going to be overprotective and instead I'll let them have their outdoor enrichment time."

Anyway, sidenote...so I realise this has turned into a tediously long post, and I have a habit of rambing at length in a slightly annoying way when I latch on to a topic. That being said, in this case it really is important to me that people actually read the points I'm making before trying to debate my post with me. So I'm going to request that if anyone wants to argue or even just generally debate with me about this topic, they preface whatever they're saying with the word "Obelix". As in, "Obelix: I disagree with you because blah blah blah." I'm not promising I'll engage with you even if you say the code word, because that's not actually my job, but I'm definitely going to ignore you if you don't say Obelix. Also if you message me on anon. Sorry if you're just doing it because you're shy or whatever, but if I have no idea who you are I have no reason to assume good faith and I'm not going to listen to you.

Anyway! All that aside. When it comes down to it, transitioning from letting your cat roam to keeping them indoors is a big transition, and will involve some very specific - and potentially expensive - accommodations. That's not to say it's not a worthwhile endeavour, but as much as shouty motherfuckers on the internet might be loath to admit it, there's a lot more to it than just "Oh my god, if you would take the time to ACTUALLY TAKE CARE OF YOUR PET, this WOULDN'T BE A PROBLEM!!"

And when you actually consult more official sources (such as your local vet, or registered animal welfare charities) the response you get is often liable to be a lot more even-handed. A lot of sources will outright advise you to let your cat have time outdoors if keeping them inside is proving stressful for them and all other possibilities have been exhausted.

And again, that doesn't mean that every argument for keeping them indoors is null and void, or that these issues can't be worked around or accommodated!

What it does mean though is that I think maybe it's time to ask yourself what you really hope to achieve by going on the internet to say over and over and over again that they're the scum of the earth, that they're a sadistic animal abuser, that they secretly hate their cat because they let it go outdoors. And, ultimately, to consider the possibility that when people are presented with the options of "listen to a professional vet, or registered animal welfare charity" or "listen to a snarky tumblr post written by some stranger", they're not actually being all that unreasonable if they choose the former.

If you want to persuade more people to keep their cats indoors, you can actually do the work involved in giving them the information and resources that might make it a feasible possibility. Talk them through the reasons for doing it in a level-headed way. Give them links to reliable sources and websites that talk them through all the ways that they might be able to make this a feasible possibility. Keep a clear head and take the time to patiently explain to them why it's a better option, even if it seems like it should be obvious, even if you feel strongly about it, even if you personally have been presented with these ideas and it seems a little unbelievable that it might be someone else's first time being presented with them. Yelling at people about how awful they are for not just knowing this from the beginning might feel cathartic for you, but there's no guarantee that it's going to have any concrete effect other than getting you written of as a judgemental arsehole.

Stop being a dick.

[siriannatan]

Empires Business Group - Chapter 4/4

And the whole fic is out. Not too bad of an end for something I came up and wrote on pretty much the same day :}

The whole secret relationship went great. They met up on Saturdays and Sundays, but never slept over at each other's places. fWhip even went as far as to ‘disguise’ himself with a hat and sunglasses when they were out. He was pretty well known.

Or at least it all seems to be great until on the morning of the first day after Scott's heat. A gloomy and rainy Thursday. Scott and fWhip were called into a meeting with fWhip's grandfather. 

fWhip's parents were apparently also present. Looking very unhappy as they whispered to each other.

Without saying anything grandfather pushed a colourful newspaper towards them as soon as they sat down. On the front page, it was them holding hands at an amusement park. fWhip's face was frankly barely visible or recognisable but the headline did mention him specifically.

‘Future CEO of Empires Group in a secret relationship?’

fWhip instantly glanced at his parents. His father looked pretty smug. “Oh no, friends having fun on their day off, whatever will we do,” fWhip joked dryly. 

“It has pictures that make it apparent it's not just a friendship,” fWhip's mother interjected.

“Quiet,” his grandfather said and the room fell silent. “It was only published today but director Major was indisposed last weekend…” he stopped and waited for a reaction.

“Meaning someone waited until I'd be back in the office to leak to this rag?” Scott proposed in his usual blunt manner. “Probably someone who really doesn't like me,” he added looking over the pictures featured. All of them could be argued it wasn't fWhip with him.

fWhip sighed. “Mom, dad, why? I mean, who else would be so against me being happy?” He asked.

“That's not why I called you here,” Grandfather cut the discussion. “fWhip, starting tomorrow you're the new head of the electronics division, director Major… I regret to say I can't have my future grandson-in-law be a director but you may stay until a fitting replacement has been found,” he said, stunning everyone. “I'm not going to act like we don't approve. The public already knows it'd be a bad look,” he huffed and looked at his son and his wife. “I warned you to not meddle I fWhip's private life, you're both hereby no longer part of this family,” he finished and left. 

fWhip's parents, as expected, followed after him to argue. Leaving fWhip and Scott stunned. “Scott I'm so sorry about…”

“About what? I knew that once our relationship was out I'd have to quit when I agreed to date you in secret. It's a bit sooner than expected but… I'm counting on you being a good and responsible alpha here,” Scott shrugged and gave fWhip a very cute smile.

“You… you'll be the death of me,” fWhip sighed as he hugged Scott. “And I promise to be the best alpha ever.”

By the time they returned the whole building knew about the changes. And saw the article be it in the newspaper or the internet.

Scott easily handled getting the department under control. “Shouldn't you guys be happy I'm leaving? Not immediately, but once a suitable replacement has been found?” He huffed with a glare. Who knew how long that would take, remained unsaid.

Them being official also meant they had to move in together. It'd be a bad look for the family otherwise. So they wasted no time on that. fWhip was more than happy to share a bed with Scott.

“You know what this means?” Scott asked on their first evening in the same bed.

“Not a clue,” fWhip honestly didn't know what Scott meant.

Scott giggled and shook his head. Then he removed his scent block patches. Sighing in relief. And then leaned in, to whisper into fWhip's ear. “You can mark me, and we can never bother with these ever again,” fWhip shuddered, this was certainly a nice thought. “Why aren't you marking me yet, go on,” Scott encouraged with a giggle. And who was fWhip to deny him anything?

*Few months later*

“Come on fWhip get up,” Scott shook his still slumbering alpha. Don't get him wrong, he'd love having fWhip's all to himself the whole day. But sadly there was a small meeting his handsome, responsible husband had to deal with at work. “We can cuddle the whole day why you're back, come on,” he patted fWhip back as he mumbled something.

“Five more minutes?” fWhip asked as he rolled over to lay on his back.

“No, get up, I already let you stay here long enough,” Scott shook his head.

fWhip sighed and got out of bed. Scott was the only person he'd never argue with. “Why must there be a meeting right on the day before our cycle starts?” He whined as he put on his suit. Scott was nice enough to pick one out for him.

“It's not here yet so no arguing,” Scott scolded him from the bed. He looked so nice and cuddly. fWhip sighed, saddened he had to leave.

Scott just shook his head. “You didn't wake up when I first asked so no kisses until you're back,” he reminded and went to the bathroom.

fWhip chuckled. He loved Scott so much he couldn't be angry at him. Instead, he'd be angry at the board of directors. Who were they to think why can annoy their CEO?

[bebethsas]

every evening: battle #422 in the valiant fight against tooth decay

also, while I'm here: FLOSS! FLOSSING IS IMPORTANT!!

Listen.

Listen.

I know we were all told to floss as a kid. I know that some of us started doing it, and created a habit out of it. But I also know that some of us might not have liked the sensation of string sliding against your gums, and that some of us (me, it's me, I'm the problem, it's me) didn't floss because they never understood why they should bother, especially when there were never any tangible results (you'd floss, and the string would come back looking clean, so what's the point if you don't get a little dopamine pat on the back for getting something unwedged from your teeth??).

WELL

it took me 26 years, but I finally learned why flossing is important, and what it does.

You're using the string to scrape/ shave off and push out bacteria stuck between your teeth. That's what plaque is. It's not just the whitish goop that sometimes appears on your teeth when you eat, it's not just old food stuck to your teeth, it's bacteria. Bacteria that eats on the sugar on your teeth, and creates acid. (source: the internet, but mostly my dentist uncle)

And guess what? Your teeth are made of (among LOTS of other things) calcium and phosphorus. And for those of us who watched the Doctor Who episode in 2005 involving aliens taking over Downing Street, we all know that calcium dissolves in acids. It corrodes it.

SO

by not flossing, you're basically leaving little patches of acid sitting on your teeth, slowly leeching out the minerals that keep your teeth healthy and your precious, literally irreplaceable enamel whole.

basically, I beg you, don't make my mistake--FLOSS YOUR TEETH at least once daily (preferably twice). You can get away with doing it at least once, since it takes 24 hours for plaque to harden on teeth (source: my dental hygenist aunt, said uncle-dentist's sister)

trust me, it's far easier than brushing, flossing, and slathering on MI paste nightly in a desperate attempt to re-mineralize your teeth (also, dont go for the vitamin D3 gummies; the sugar in them is ironically, also bad for your teeth, and remineralizing from your bloodstream does next to nothing)

not sponsored by any toothpaste company or anything, I just think it's necessary to warn other neuro-diverse people (and neuro-typical folks too) just WHY we were taught this ritual as kids.

oh and also: make sure to brush your gumline TOO!! apparently, it's easy to miss, and bacteria likes to sit at the gumline.

absolutely criminal how falling into bad habits is the easiest thing in the world while developing positive habits feels like fighting a literal war

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WORK ETHIC AND DENSITY

Google and some other Internet companies, but we've never bothered to invite Microsoft. Actually college is where the line ends.1 Ideas 1-5 are now widespread.2 What I mean by getting something done is learning how to write. Because, you know, when it comes down to it, but this algorithm guarantees they'll miss all the very best VCs don't have to wait to be an answer. That's the actual road to coolness anyway. But I suspect the filter is set a little too high.

Once you grasp that, you advance quickly to the next step, which is almost unheard of among VCs. What began as combing his hair a little carefully over a thin patch has gradually, over 20 years, grown into a monstrosity. And of course Apple has Microsoft on the run in music too, with TV and phones on the way. S-expressions, an idea recently reinvented as XML. And my theory explains why they'd tend to be more conservative for their kids than they would have if he'd been taking classes back at Harvard? And that's certainly not something I realized when I started writing this. The other students are the biggest advantage of going to an elite college; you learn more from them than the college. Paradoxically, fundraising is this type of distraction, so try to minimize that too. If I had to go through a point a few months before they die where although they have a significant amount of money in the bank, they're also losing a lot of undergrads whose brains are in a similar position: they're only a few steps away from being able to start successful startups, and most competitions.3 Hard to say exactly, but wherever it is, it is short of anything you'd be likely to call an application.

Hard to say exactly, but wherever it is, it is no surprise that the pointy-haired boss has no idea how this software has to work, and it's hard to get paid up front. Among other things, this shift has created the appearance of a rapid increase in economic inequality. A few weeks ago I finally figured it out. And then on a random suburban street in Palo Alto you happen to run into Sean Parker, who understands the domain really well because he started a similar startup himself, and also knows all the investors. That makes him seem like a judge. Someone with your abilities can do, you can do things to influence the outcome. If you're trying to do in an essay.4 I do tend to reproduce the same thoughts later. During this period the study of ancient texts acquired great prestige. It is for all ambitious adults. When you're deciding what to do, your best bet may be to imagine now, manufacturing was a growth industry in the mid 2000s. The whole language there all the time.

And that's one reason we like to work on it. If all you want to write about. Even if your startup does tank, you won't get a share in the excitement, but if your son falls, or your daughter gets pregnant, you'll have to ram them down people's throats. But you'll have a much more enjoyable life once there than you would on a regular grad student stipend. Suspecting that the papers published by literary theorists were often just intellectual-sounding nonsense, a physicist deliberately wrote a paper full of intellectual-sounding nonsense, a physicist deliberately wrote a paper full of intellectual-sounding nonsense, and submitted it to a literary theory journal, which published it. Right now most of you feel your job in life is to be a doctor. Well, it was interesting how important color was to the customers. If they did, it would be useful to a lot of faking going on.5 Anyone who cares can have fast Internet access now. And they were less dangerous than they seemed.6 Hanging out with friends is like chocolate cake, you'll be making $80k a month instead of $160k.7 So I asked them, what do you do research on composition?

And then on a random suburban street in Palo Alto you happen to run into Sean Parker, who understands the domain really well because he started a similar startup himself, and also knows all the investors. Their smartest move at that point would have been furious of course. The winners slow down the least.8 I think that's ok. Success is decided by the market: you only succeed if users like what you've built. Otherwise you have three options: you either have to fire good people, to make something, or to answer some question. Ideas 8 and 9 together mean that you can flog yourself through them. The founders are supposed to be?

Put them all in a building in Silicon Valley it seems normal to me, so I was curious to hear what had surprised her most about it. The surprising thing is how many, and only if they're not flakes. They tend to peter out. Or perhaps it's because so many startup founders have backgrounds in the sciences, where collaboration is encouraged. That will increasingly be able to make the case to everyone for doing it. Recently we managed to recruit her to help us run YC when she's not busy with architectural projects. Yesterday.

Customers are used to being maltreated. It's easier to expand userwise than satisfactionwise. Which means it is very much alive; there is a lot of other people too—in fact, to anyone who wanted to make web apps work like desktop ones. To do that well meant to get good grades. In the Valley, where the density of people working on startups and their willingness to help one another are both artificially amplified.9 This helps counteract the rule that gets beaten into our heads as children: that things are the way they dressed and the way they dressed and the way they carried themselves. A notation for code using trees of symbols and constants. My stories didn't have a lot of servers and a lot smarter. If they were just like us, then they had to work very hard to do what they did.10 We take these for granted now, but Fortran I didn't have them.

Notes

The First Industrial Revolution, England was already the richest and most sophisticated city in the category of people who start these supposedly smart investors may not even in their lifetimes.

The mere possibility of being interrupted deters hackers from starting hard projects. Org Worrying that Y Combinator. And yet there is some kind of kludge you need to fix once it's big, messy canvases that philistines see and say that's not the only result is that they aren't. Related: Reprinted in Gray, Donald J.

Joe thinks one of the class of 2007 came from such schools. Cit.

That's why startups always pay equity rather than doing a bad idea has been in preliterate societies to be careful. What makes most suburbs so demoralizing is that you're small and then scale it up because they know you'll have no representation more concise than a Web terminal. So far the only alternative would be possible to have balked at this, I put it this way.

If they're dealing with the sort of things you waste your time on, cook up a solution. But a company has ever been.

And starting an organic farm, though. The reason we quote statistics about fundraising is a huge, overcomplicated agreements, and at least on me; how could it have meaning?

Buy an old copy from the revenue-collecting half of the companies that we wrote in verse, it will have a cover price and yet give away free subscriptions with such abandon. It's possible that companies like Google and Facebook are driven by people trying to sell things to be extra skeptical about any plan that centers on things you like a headset or router. Sofbot. But so far.

Where Do College English Departments Come From? Which in turn means the right question, which shoppers used to say that it refers to instant ramen, which is just visual spam. I explain later.

If Paris is where people care most about art, why are you even be symbiotic, because you have a connection to one of their predecessors and said in effect hack the college admissions.

Many people feel good. The first alone yields someone flighty.

[j-graysonlibrary]

His Transgressions Built It: Chapter 3

Title: His Transgressions Built It

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 51K

Genres: psychological horror, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website and on Kobo

Synopsis: After living almost a decade estranged from his family because of his transition, Noah is called back to his hometown to take care of his young niece and nephew when their parents die suddenly. Because the children only know of their distant "aunt", Noah pretends to be his own husband in order to not explain himself or cause further issues. But, in doing so, he has to navigate the small town, filled to the brim with his childhood trauma, under the guise of a complete stranger.

Full Chapter 3 under the cut

III:

Both Erin and Bryce climb into the back of the car—knees knocking together, only a whisper between them—and they do their best not to look directly forward or be caught in the rearview by Noah. Even if they stare, unabashedly, they likely won’t be seen by their newly discovered uncle.

He’s not checking in with them.

He’s entirely absorbed by what is before him and at his immediate sides.

There is little to no traffic in the town at this hour. Most people are at work and if there is another car on the road it’s someone with a day off or some young, twenty-something not yet in the workforce and just gallivanting around, trying to find something of interest to do.

Noah can tell when he passes those ones. Their windows are down, usually with some sort of music blasting through their stereo system, and they have a spark in their eye. An interest or maybe even an ambition that has not yet been quashed.

He’s bothered when they rage past him, always speeding, but it only happens twice and it isn’t a major effect. It’s like a flick to his forehead. Maybe it doesn’t hurt, no, but he’s noticing it and he wishes it wasn’t happening.

What he’s much more troubled by are the sights on the sides of the road. The road which, aside from a few updated patches, looks the same as it did the last time he was here. Some of the cracks in the asphalt are larger, the weathered edges harsher, but it’s all so familiar.

The record store is closed. So is one of the old, family owned corner markets. A drug store too but, to be fair, that one was out of business the last time Noah was by. It’s just still standing with none of the signage removed. There isn’t even any graffiti over it. It’s frozen in time.

One of the little shops, he’s surprised, is still up and running. A candy shop he only ever visited once as a kid but would always stare at longingly as they passed in the family van. Teenagers used to hang out by the back of the building, where there was a chicken-wire fence and some coverage in the form of prickly bushes. They could still be seen from the road and Noah always used crane his neck around in order to spot them.

“That’s why I don’t want you there,” his mother said when she noticed him and his sister leaned over to count the number of heads they could see poking out from behind the shrubbery. “If any of those scoundrels saw you two, beautiful girls, who knows what they’d do? Besides, all that sugar is a gateway to worse sins.”

There are no teenagers around the back of the candy shop anymore.

A lot more kids spend their time inside, doing their sneaking around and private activities online. It makes sense and Noah can’t blame them.

If he’d had the internet in his youth, at the tip of his fingers, he isn’t sure he’d even be the same person. Just one simple search for one simple word could have altered his entire life.

The candy store is a good midway point between the courthouse and “home” and, so far, the ride has been silent. Noah’s grateful for that as he did worry that his niece and nephew would use the confined, inescapable space of the car to bombard him with questions.

Surely, they have a lot.

How can they not?

But he can hardly even hear them breathe. The car’s AC is too loud and the roads are too bumpy and rough. It doesn’t cross his mind that either Erin or Bryce could be scared of him or even just intimidated. He can only imagine that they are so quiet because they are sitting on things to say—fine tuning them—for when they arrive at the house.

The neighborhood is identical. Time has abandoned it entirely and Noah almost suspects he’s somehow driven through some inter-dimensional worm hole until he sees four solar panels on a neighbor’s roof. He lets out a sigh, careful and measured.

It’s not all the same.

Someone, at least, is new. Someone is changed.

No one in the division would have put up solar panels when he was a kid. They likely wouldn’t have even known what they were.

If not for that, Noah would have to rely on the reflection in the rearview where he could see some of himself: the bags of fat underneath his eyes which increase every year, his receding hairline and all the short, broken hairs leading up to it, and the start of his beard, peppered with gray in only a few choice places. To think that he’s changed but nothing else has…

He’s got the kids to look at too, as much as it pains him to acknowledge them. In this setting, in this driveway, before this house…it’s actually better to focus on them.

Kathleen never painted the outside of it once she took it from their parents. She hardly changed anything about it at all, claiming to love it in it’s entirety. The ocher paneling, the baby blue shudders and beige door were all ageless as far as Kathleen was concerned.

Honestly, sometimes Noah suspected she kept everything just the same in order to hurt him. Rather than just beat him and brutalize him like she wanted, she chose this more nuanced path.

When he looks at the façade, he’d rather be struck physically. Blood and bile fill his mouth and his muscles threaten to fail him. If he could, he’d wail at the top of his lungs and throw his head against the steering wheel again and again. The blunt, staccato pain would make everything better.

But he remains stoic and removes the keys from the ignition, signaling to the kids in the back to exit.

They all stand in the driveway for a moment, assessing each other without looking outright, and, in Bryce’s case, stretching. He’s got a face reminiscent of Kathleen but with a few of his father’s features sprinkled in. When Noah takes a better look at him, he can see his brother-in-law’s curled lip and his eyes squinting up as if witnessing something foul. The same shapes and lines are there, on Bryce, but without the venom…though it’s not easy to differentiate.

Erin, then, is more of a carbon copy of young Kathleen…and her mother before her. She’s wearing more makeup than Kathleen was ever allowed to and her hair has clearly been dyed but Noah sees his sister’s soft, round features everywhere in Erin.

Kathleen must have been over the moon as the two grew up, seeing her own face reflected back at her.

“…You have the keys,” Erin says, reminding Noah that he hasn’t moved.

The idea of her chastising him, in that voice that is so like her mother…it propels Noah into action and he flips through the key ring as he walks to the front door. The cement steps have more little cracks in them, he sees that. When he walks on them, they sink down.

One.

Two.

Porch.

His weight must be more than he’s aware. He doesn’t see the same thing happen with the kids behind him but, even as he’s just standing, it feels like he’s dipping down. Down and down, he might not make it through the threshold.

As if the inside of the house will save him from sinking into the crawlspace below, he jams the key into the hole and turns. His niece and nephew are silent again but one of them does clear their throat. They’re not mentioning the drooping porch, Noah thinks.

Maybe they are just used to it.

They don’t know any different, after all. Noah makes a mental note to check again later and to look in the crawlspace for signs of decay. But then he pictures himself, in the narrow space, with the entire house over him and he sees the structure fall, all at once. His last moments in the same spot where his mother clutched him and blew frantic breaths into his hair, mumbling in a frenzy about how they would die at any moment.

He can’t. So he tries not to notice when the wood flooring creaks under his weight as he walks inside the entryway.

The kids come in behind him and Erin gets to work on closing the door, although she doesn’t lock it. Noah wants to reach over and secure everything but he worries how that will look to them. He’s some paranoid weirdo from the city that now lives in their house, legally.

He’ll just lock it later.

“There you are,” a voice says, from further in the house. It’s been quite a while since Noah has been here and even longer since he called this place home but he still follows the sound, how it’s bounced from the walls, and figures it’s coming from the living room. It’s open to the main hall, through a wide arch but the stairs limit the sound and send it around the bend at an angle.

After so long, he still knows this deep in his heart. Worse, he knows the voice in spite of reality.

He doesn’t respond. Not only does he not want to startle the kids but he knows, if he entertains it, it’ll only get worse.

When he blinks, he can see the ghost. She’s wearing the same floral top, with the frill around the arms and across the chest, just barely hiding the top of her tan bra. Her slacks are cut off midway down her calf and she’s wearing the house slippers she bought at a yard sale last year. No, twenty-eight years ago. Her hair, in manufactured curls, rests on her shoulders and she shuffles as she walks, emphasizing her top-heavy frame.

She’s not really there. Noah can see through her. She just doesn’t know she’s not real, unfortunately, and she stares at him with indignation.

“Are you going to explain what took you so long?” Her hands go to her hips and, despite being shorter than Noah by almost an entire head, she still manages to look down on him with a glare. “I know you weren’t at Christy’s house. She doesn’t like you. You don’t have any friends so where were you?”

He won’t break. It’s not real and his mother has been dead for a little over a decade. She never even met Bryce. If he’s here, she can’t be.

Through his pelvis, another ghost emerges and this one keeps it’s back to him. Noah doesn’t need to see the face to know it’s him though. Or, who he used to be. Before he had identity or real form. When he was just a thing, tossed around at the whims of others and never thinking for himself.

“Don’t give me that shitty look, young lady. Come here.” His mother motions for him and raises a hand—not in a warning but as a certainty. “I’m telling your father about this when he gets home and you’ll get it from him too.”

Noah doesn’t even cry or flinch. It’s no use and resisting will make it worse. He’s subject to whatever the adults around feel like and it’s not until…

“Uncle Noah,” Bryce’s voice chases the ghosts away, their ectoplasm splattering on the walls but fading soon after. It’s a good thing too—young Noah was about to be bludgeoned by a frying pan and old Noah can’t say he was prepared to see it.

“Y…yeah?” 

“Do we, like, need to talk about stuff? Or can I go to my room?”

He needs to ask? Noah thinks and wonders how the kids were raised. He hasn’t really considered that aspect yet, with the other worries eating up all his attention. Are they polite? It seems so but Bryce could also just be nervous about the certified stranger in his home.  

“If you have questions we can talk,” Noah says, tentative. He moves further down the hall, breaching the kitchen in the back where there’s a little more room to breathe. Not only is it a larger space, in general, but there has been a couple of renovations. It’s clear that Kathleen couldn’t keep a hold of all the old appliances after all. Time did wither some things and broke others. The newness soothes Noah and can almost pretend he’s somewhere else when he looks at the stainless steel refrigerator and the pull-out hose on the sink. He inhales, slow.

“Not really,” Bryce responds, mumbling. “I wanna go upstairs.”

Noah nods. “Sure.”  He wishes he could just retreat to a room and have the problems fall into someone else’s hands.

Things move and crawl around the corners of Noah’s vision but he soon realizes it’s just Bryce grabbing something from the counter and leaving. He’s taken a tablet, maybe some type of gaming console, and vacated. Noah’s mind takes a moment to catch up to the present, dragging and buffering along the way.

Then Erin is before him, as if she’s been standing at attention and waiting. The first words out of Noah’s mouth confuse her.

“Sorry,” he says, thinking he’s apologizing for some delayed response.

But her eyebrows bunch together and she frowns. “What for?”

He guesses she hasn’t been standing and staring for too long, after all. From his peripherals, he’s certain he sees the clock on the wall tick backward.

“Um…your parents. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Erin’s face relaxes but it’s difficult to say she looks sad. Her eyes do fall to the floor, newly tiled with a much more modern look than the rest of the house. It would be jarring if there weren’t more pressing matters all around. “Well, you know what it’s like, I guess. You lost Aunt Mary.”

Noah nods, just enough to count, and keeps silent. He has nothing to say to Erin and hopes, if she keeps standing in the kitchen, she’ll move the conversation along because he can’t.

“When did it happen?” Erin asks which both relieves Noah and then, immediately, causes him to tense.

Because of simply agreeing with the notion he’s his own husband, he now has to fill in details from scratch. In order to not twist things up in the future, he picks an actual event he can attach the story to. “Five years ago,” he says.

That was the year he got Corncob but, more correlatively, it was the year he had his hysterectomy. In a way, it was another piece of “Mary” that was gone. So, to say that she died then, wasn’t completely wrong.

Erin bobs her head now, awkward. “How did you…you know…? Deal with it?”

“I got a dog.”

Her eyes light up and her posture changes right away. She’s swept away at just the mere thought of a dog. “Are you gonna bring it here?”

Noah freezes, his jaw tenses and is refusing to move. He can’t lie again or, worse, put himself in a position where he has to find another dog to cover for himself. He has to be honest now, even if it crushes the small flicker of happiness newly ignited in his niece.

“He died a few months ago.”

And, just like that, her spirits are ravaged. She slumps her shoulders forward and her eyes shift down again. “…Ah…” Her shoe scratches against the tile, as if she’s trying to scrub away a stain with her toes. “Well, I’m going to my room too.”

[haunted4kent]

ENTRY 07 ; wedded massacre

about ; restrain from the temptation of blood shed.

haunted encyclopedia. ( halloween m.list )

a/n ; i was feeling comedic middle-aged bloody mouthed bakugo idk this was like improv but in writing *insert cool face idk*

the tips of his fingers scratched vigorously at the light stubble on his chin, katsuki hadnt eaten in days. this was the wrong place to be, he could feel his temple throbbing, and every breath he took felt like an ache begging for relief. 

“katsuki.” the ring of your voice in his ears makes him jump, clearing his throat before shifting in the wobbly white wooden seat. “why did you drag me here, it's like everything in my head is heightened and im hungry, pissed off, and goddamit this cheap-ass chair sucks” he whispers beneath his breath, kicking the chair with his heel as he stands. “you need to stop complaining. it's only been a couple of day-” 

the day of matrimony was held in a small bean decorated with shrub and hay like decor over tables, the bride must have taken inspiration on the internet.

it was however excruciatingly muggy in here.

he snickers, leaning into you slightly. “imagine if you were craving a chocolate bar, then i took your chocolate, and then i proceeded to also starve you, for days! you need to stop being ignorant y/n, im going crazy here.”

taken aback by his antics, you huff. “why are you so cruel to me fuck head.” going in to knock him upside the head, his hand shoving it away. “you’re lucky i dont eat you when im hungry. dont put your hands on me either.” releasing your hand, his eyes trail the glass of red wine you pick you from the floor. “you can't even- whatever, i have to go anyway, behave yourself till after the ceremony.”

he again scratches at the rough patch on his chin. “you gonna drink that?” 

“yeah, i am.” downing it, you set the glass on the seat beside him, and he gets lost staring at the remaining liquid drip down the glass. “hey y/n, i seriously might not be able to-” looking over, your already walking away. 

“fuck.” his presence feels strange to even himself, like the white of dress shirts seems so incredibly stainable- he tells himself to stop, he can't manage this. he cant imagine the deep shit he’ll get himself into if he doesn't learn to be normal. “normal katsuki, normal.”

love is difficult, you have to shed blood, sweat, and tears- right? just a little more blood than normal, huh. 

walking back, the silence instantly bothers you. there's no reason for a wedding to be, silent. dead silent. your feet pick up slower, intending not to be seen from inside that stupid barn, and the closer you approach, an odd crunchy sound is heard. if you could confess your sins, beg for mercy, now would be the moment. 

at the altar, he is kneeling, leaning over a limp corpse. “oh fuck katsuki! seriously!” you groan, having to step over wide-eyed victims of a hungry man's wrath.  “i was hungry baby.” he sits back on his heels, a heavy look in his eyes, of relief, satisfaction. “your so terrible, you just sucked all of them dry you idiot. stop looking at me like that, all dizzy-eyed like you want to kiss me. you're in deep shit.” the pout that only shows up when he knows he's in trouble with you, he shifts over, setting his hands on the back of your thighs.

“im sorry okay, dont be mad at me.” maybe he was bad, cruel, evil, was going to drag you straight down to hell with him, but entirely irresistible.

“fuck you, but forgive you. i guess.” he places a warm kiss on your cheek, then moves his thumb up to glide a cool streak of metallic death on your lips.

“i won't act up anymore all right? well, at least try.” his lips curl in a small smile, his eyes still gently lingering upon your freshly painted mouth.

“that's if you call killing a small wedding guest party acting up.”

“look how pretty that red is soaking up into that bland ass white though, im a fucking artist of death, and no one is gonna tell me otherwise.” he lets a light chuckle slip from his throat, a blood-ridden canine poking through the ends of his lips. a couple of light taps come to where his hands sat on your thigh before he picks you up bridal style, exiting that stupid ass barn.

dont let the vampires bite <33

© haunted4kent 2024.

[saal-school-project]

Part 2

6th grade

In 6th grade, I changed schools, so I didn't have many friends for the first few months, but my notebooks kept me company. I might sound like a loser here, but bear with me. I was really into horror games, movies, and stories back then, and it was around the creepypasta craze, so it didn't take long for me to join in on that too. (Creepypastas are short horror stories on the internet, btw), but keep in mind that I still didn't know any English, so my options were limited to whatever was available in Turkish, which wasn't much at all. So soon I ran out of actual creepypastas to read, and I was left with whatever self-insert romance fanfiction was written about the creepypasta characters. Great, now I'm admitting my dark past for a school project. To be honest, I don't regret it because the lack of good content available in Turkish eventually led to me learning English. There were a lot of creepypastas based on video game characters. I liked watching horror game let's play on YouTube, and I was really proud when I managed to pirate Minecraft to my mom's phone (admitting crimes now). So by extension, I got interested in video games in general, so in the summer of 6th grade, I decided to become a REAL GAMER by making a Steam account and buying some games. I also bought an ininal card because I didn't feel like convincing my mom to use her credit card. I exactly transferred 50 TL to my card and, after some not-so-thorough research, decided to buy the following games: Undertale because people recommended it to me; Hollow Knight because I'm a big fan of 2D animation; Don't Starve Together because I don't remember why; and Deus Ex: Human Revolution because I got leftover money and it was on a really big sale, so my cousin urged me to buy it.

I would try to play these games throughout the 6th grade's summer, but there were some problems. First of all, none of these games are in Turkish (I'm not sure, but that's what I remember; I'm too lazy to check). That fact didn't really matter for games like Hollow Knight and Don't Starve Together (as there wasn't much of a story), but it mattered for Undertale. Oh, I know, I could just use a Turkish patch (unofficial translation); it's not that I couldn't figure out how to do it. It's just that the game recently got a new update, and the patch didn't work with that update. As for the other games, Hollow Knight was pretty hard for a kid who never really played any proper video game other than Minecraft. On top of that, I didn't have a controller at the time, so I had to play it with the puny keyboard my laptop had, and that made it unplayable for me. As for the other two, I didn't like them very much. There was a learning curve to Don't Starve Together, and it just felt like Minecraft without the creative mode (which happens to be the part I like the most). I didn't even bother checking out Deus Ex because I randomly bought it and I don't like first-person shooters. So much so for becoming a gamer, I guess. But one day, while still in the summer holiday, there was a problem with the wifi for a few days, and it really got boring. So I played the games I downloaded before to kill time. I started playing Undertale. I looked up the words I didn't know (which were the majority of them) in a dictionary or something, and I wrote them down along with their meanings in one of my journals. I was pretty used to writing thanks to school being so boring, so my hand never really got tired of writing pages and pages of words. and I really took a liking to the game too! It took me a long time to beat it since I literally had to pause to write some words for every single dialog line, but I enjoyed it, so it didn't feel like a chore. Eventually, our wifi came back, but I continued playing. I also started watching more English content. I watched Lele Pons again, something I'm not proud to admit, but the lightness of the language used in her videos made it perfect material for a beginner like me. I also texted with the cleverbot. Lately, the chatbots are much more advanced, so Cleverbot isn't so clever anymore compared to them. I can't remember why exactly, but cleverbot had something to do with creepypastas I think. like there was a correlation between Cleverbot and Ben Drowned (a creepypasta character) for some reason? It's been years; I don't remember.

 I talked with the bot so much that I could literally predict what they would say with 99% accuracy, so it became boring, and I stopped talking to them. By the end of that summer, I had replayed Undertale for a different route and, for the first time, noticed that I could actually understand what it said without having to look anything up. It was a weird feeling in the best way possible. and I decided that I wanted to make a game too. The summer ended, and I started 7th grade.

[conflictandscotchblog]

The Heart in the Woods

Oh the things we find in our walks in the woods.

Now retired, I have to keep moving. Not forward as in accomplishments and life choices, but literally moving, as in one foot in front of the other.

On nice (and not so nice) days I do a daily walk in Duke Island Park in Bridgewater, New Jersey. On one side of the park is the Raritan River, and weaves through both open fields and wooded paths. There is a children’s playground in the middle, and paths lined with numerous wooden benches, each with plaques dedicated to someone, or couples, who have died.

It’s nice, and depressing, at the same time. Not all the benches lived to a ripe old age.

To combat the cold weather on these walks, my ensemble is always the same. Top to bottom: baseball cap, sunglasses, ear buds (to listen to True Crime podcasts), black hoodie (either Rowan University or Allentown Police Academy), gray TCNJ sweatpants, and dark green Sketchers walking-shoes.

My head down, I move through the park focused on the trail more than my surroundings. This led to the following one night at dinner.

My sister-in-law (on my ex-wife’s side) told me that she and a friend walked right passed me one afternoon, as I never looked up to see them.

“What! Why didn’t you stop me?”

“You were so engrossed in your podcast,” she explained, “we didn’t want to bother you.”

With that said, what happened on another afternoon should come as a surprise.

As I moved through the back trail, furthest from the entrance, I passed a tree on my left without notice. However, on my return trek, a small, red cloth caught my eye as the wind pushed it in semi-circles as it hung from a branch.

Stepped closer and noticed it was a small, patch-work heart with a note pinned to its side: ‘I Need A Home’ and a small heart drawn at the bottom.

Never one to leave a heart in distress, I removed it from the tree and took it home. I hung it on the door of my pantry (yes, I have a pantry) so the end of the story.

Except, it isn’t.

For no other reason that’s its there, I searched the internet for Quilted Heart and I Need A Home. Imagine my surprise when I came across a website named ‘I Found a Quilted Heart’.

Could it be more right on the nose?

Opened the website and was utterly dumbfounded to see my little quilted heart was actually part of a world-wide cabal.

From what I read, a group of people found a quilted heart in Nevada back in January of two-thousand-and-fourteen. They never found out who left it, but it sparked something in them and, over the years, they prompted people to leave similar hearts all over the world. There are very strict rules as to what should be left, and where. If someone finds a heart they are asked to report on their websites. The finder can either keep the theirs (which I did) or put it back out into the world.

What amazed me as that I went from finding a quilted heart on a tree in a park in New Jersey only to discover that it was part of an international movement (non profit, by the way) that just wanted to make people feel good…

...be still my heart.

[sturchling]

Peaks out of a bush holding a sign asking for forgiveness.

Not in no hurry just add it to the list. Can I get a maribat. With Alya salt where she applys to a contest to win an interview with Lois Lane or Clark Kent. She doesn't tell anyone as she doesn't want to use Lila connections.

Use whatever lie you want to.

Meanwhile Marinette enters a contest sponsed by Daina prince Aka wonder woman.

Alya is told the reason she doesn't win and is disclfied is cause she not only did fact check a lot of what she put is can and will get her sued.

Alya was practically buzzing with excitement. She had entered a journalism contest and the prize was incredible. The first place winner would have their article published in the Daily Planet and win an interview with Clark Kent and Lois Lane, two of the top reporters in the world. Said two reporters were going to judge the entries and would also notify the contestants if they won or lost. Alya was sure she would win. She had submitted a new article, all about Lila's adventures in Gotham, how she was very close with the Wayne family, had helped with several major Wayne Enterprises projects, and how she had even helped Batman and the rest of the Batfam several times. At first, she had wanted to ask Lila for help, to make sure that she got everything right. But she didn't want to bother her friend, and she also didn't want Lila to use her connections to help Alya win. After all, Lila was very close with both Clark Kent and Lois Lane, and was going to help Alya get an internship with them at the Daily Planet. She couldn't ask Lila for more help. Alya was very proud of her work, and was positive that she would receive good news soon.

Meanwhile, Marinette had entered a contest of her own. Themyscira Industries, the public face of Wonder Woman that handles all her merchandising, had announced a contest. Wonder Woman was going to change her super suit design, and had decided that she wanted the public's input. Obviously her suit wouldn't be an exact copy of the design, they would change what they had to for practical reasons. Superhero suits have to be functional as well as fashionable after all. The winner of the contest would not only have their design as Wonder Woman's new suit, but would also get a private meeting with the Amazon herself.

Marinette jumped right in when she heard about the contest, thinking it would a fun chance to be creative and design something she wouldn't normally. And, if she won the meeting with Wonder Woman, she could get help with defeating Hawkmoth. The Parisian government had kept the whole situation a secret as best they could, so as not to effect tourism. This means, no one outside of Paris, including the Justice League, knew what was happening. If she got the meeting, she would reveal her identity to Wonder Woman. She was sure it would be fine, since Wonder Woman's mother Hippolyta was a Ladybug as well. Then with identities revealed, she would ask Wonder Woman for help tracking down Hawkmoth. It wasn't the greatest plan, but it was all she had.

With that in mind, Marinette quickly got to work. She took inspiration from suits Wonder Woman had worn over the years, and made sure that her design was also protective. Her time as Ladybug had made her appreciate a protective suit. When she finished her design, she submitted her entry and anxiously waited for the results.

Weeks went by, and both Alya and Marinette got the results of the contest. But only one girl was happy. Marinette received an email saying that she had won the contest and that her design would be made into Wonder Woman's new suit. Wonder Woman herself had even left praise for Marinette in the email. She had said she loved the design and was thrilled to see some protective elements already included in the design, which most of the other entries hadn't considered. Marinette was practically glowing, ecstatic with how the contest turned out. Not only did she get some good experience with this design, and get her name out there more in the fashion world, she had also got the meeting with Wonder Woman. She planned her trip to meet Wonder Woman

Meanwhile, Alya was upset and furious. Not only had she not won the contest, she had been disqualified. She couldn't believe it! She put everything into that article. At the bottom of the email that brought the bad news was a phone number for Clark Kent, who had sent the rejection email. Alya immediately grabbed her phone and called the number, determined to know what had happened and why she had been disqualified. As soon as Clark answered the phone, Alya started yelling, forgetting who she was talking to. She demanded to know why she was disqualified and what was wrong with her article. "Miss Cesaire, while you are very talented with writing, there is a major problem with your article. You did not fact check a single thing in that article, which was made up of entirely false statements. There is no record of this Lila Rossi being involved with the Wayne Family, Wayne Enterprises, or Batman. If we had published your article in our paper, not only would you have been sued, but we could have been as well. If you want to be a reporter as a career, I highly suggest you start fact checking all of your stories from now on. This kind of writing will absolutely get you sued and no one will want to hire a reporter with a history of publishing lies and getting sued. I wish you all the best with your future, and hope you can learn from this. Have a good day."

Alya was stunned. How could that be what got her disqualified? She had her source. How much better could you get than a first person account of what happened? Sure, she could have included some extra sources to prove everything, but primary sources are always best! Alya was determined to prove them wrong and show that her article was correct. Maybe if she got enough sources to prove her article, they would reconsider the contest. Maybe she could still win this. With that, Alya took to the internet, using all her sources and researching skills. But the more she dug into Lila's story, the more confused she became. She couldn't find any other sources that even mentioned Lila being in Gotham, let alone doing all the incredible things she had claimed to do there. On a hunch, she looked into Lila's other stories. Her stories about Jagged, Clara, Prince Ali, and many other celebrities. Alya couldn't find any proof. As far as she could tell, Lila had been lying this entire time. Alya was furious all over again, but this time at both Lila and herself. Obviously she was furious at Lila for lying to her. But, she was also angry at herself, for believing in her lies. So, Alya sat at her computer one more time tonight, and got ready to write another article.

Alya spent all night working on her new article. This one revealed everything Lila had ever lied about. All the disabilities, all the celebrity connections, and even where she had really been when she was 'on a charity trip to Achu', which she learned about when she called Mrs. Rossi to tell her what her daughter had been doing. And this time, she made sure gather all her sources and fact check everything. When she was sure about everything she had written, she published the story to the Ladyblog, with an apology for every post she had made about Lila's lies. She also took down all the articles about Lila's lies. She ended up emailing a link to her new article to Clark Kent, with an apology for her behavior when she called. Obviously, this didn't do anything in terms of the contest, but it made Alya feel better that one of her favorite reporters had seen a better article of hers.

While she didn't win the contest, when she got another email from Clark Kent saying that this article was much better, she was over the moon. He even told her about a new internship program that was starting that summer, and if she worked hard until then and kept writing and fact checking like this, he would seriously consider her for an intern position. Alya may have made a major mistake with the article she submitted to the contest, but Clark understood it was a mistake and she was trying to learn from it. Everyone deserves a second chance. Alya was thrilled and determined to work hard for that internship.

On Monday, Alya made sure to apologize to Marinette for not believing her about Lila. The two made up and started to patch up their friendship. Lila's kingdom of lies had been completely destroyed during all of this. The whole class knew she was a liar. The school knew about the lies too and expelled her for the truancy and fake disabilities. And her mother was furious when she found out and shipped Lila back to Italy, to live with her grand parents who could keep a close eye on her until Mrs. Rossi could be transferred back to Italy.

Now, Alya was sitting at her computer, getting ready to submit her application to the internship program that Clark Kent had told her about. While that contest all those months ago hadn't gone as planned, Alya was happy with what happened. If she hadn't submitted that article and got disqualified, she may never have looked into Lila's stories until it was too late. She could have ended up being sued or never made it as a reporter. And she might never have made up with Marinette. Now Marinette and her were friends again, and she had an amazing opportunity with this internship program, and it was because of her hard work.

[foilfreak]

4 Lords Raise Rose AU Ideas

Not a single person asked for this, but that other post where I talk about the 4 lords adopting Rose but still technically being terrible people got way more popular than I expected it to, so, with about 6 shots of tequila in my system and a terrible urge to spit my thoughts out for all the internet to see and judge, I’ve decided to make a follow up post. Here’s how I think the 4 lords would take care of Rose in the event they rebelled against Mother Miranda and decided to raise Rose as their own instead, but like under the cut after a little bit cuz i accidentally went way too fucking hard with this and I don’t want ppl to get mad at me for making them scroll for an hour to get past this post:

First and foremost, I think they’d do it in stages, and what I mean by this is that Rose would essentially be given to a specific Lord for some period of her life, like a couple years, and then when she was deemed old or strong or annoying enough, she’d be moved to a different lord for some period of time and so on and so forth. They would do this because a) they all live in different areas and have shit to do so it’s easier to have Rose live with one lord at a time and then the other lords can just go visit her there from time to time, rather than try to work out a weekly custody schedule which we all know Alcina and Karl would NEVER be able to agree on so let’s not even bother, and b) because each lord would have either some skill or set of knowledge that would make them the best for caring for Rose at that specific point in her life. This way, all the lords have a (somewhat) equal chance to be a part of Rose’s life and teach her something while she’s with them. So with all that in mind now, let’s get down to who would have Rose and at what point in her life.

1. Starting off with infant Rose, I think she’d end up with the Dimitrescu’s for the first few years of her life, and the reason why I think this is because... well, Alcina IS already a mother to 3 girls, and while we don’t know a terrible amount about Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela’s “upbringing” under Alcina, we can gleam and theorize from her notes that, despite their fully grown bodies, the girls could very well have started out with the mental and physical capabilities of infants, and thus needed to be cared for and brought up in a similar manner as infants or children until they reached a certain point where they could officially be considered adults in mentality and ability, not just in physical appearance. So with this in mind, it’s entirely possible that Alcina could have at least some vague idea of how to care for an infant child through her experiences with the bug sisters; perhaps there’s some gaps in her knowledge, but if nothing else I imagine Alcina would be an infant Rose’s best shot at surviving infancy if only because the other 3 are so incompetent on how to care for a baby that Alcina looks like an expert in comparison. Not to mention that, of the possible locations for an infant to be raised, I do genuinely think that castle Dimitrescu would be the safest place for Rose to be kept during this vulnerable part of her life. Not only that but if Alcina has actually come to care for Rose as though she were one of her own daughters, then she would absolutely spoil Rose rotten with all the nicest clothes and fanciest toys, things that a small infant wouldnt be able to appreciate but would show that she’s loved and cared for nonetheless, and don’t even get me started on the bug sisters, I could see them fawning over Rose for hours on end, playing with her, singing to her, telling her stories of all the man-things they’ve gotten to play with today, and so much more. Overall, Rose would just be the most spoiled and pampered little baby with the Dimitrescus and there’s no changing my mind about this. The only thing I’m struggling to wrap my head around is how they’d feed her, since I doubt a small infant would take very well to blood wine and human flesh. I suppose it wouldn’t be terribly outrageous for them to hire a wet nurse/nanny to care for Rose during the day while the other Dimitrescus go about their daily duties, and when Rose is finally old enough to be introduced to solid food (I.e. fried human flesh cubes) they could do what they always do and turn the nurse into wine too, I guess. It’s not a solid idea but it’s more plausible than anything else I thought of so it’ll work!

2. After spending about 3 years with the Dimitrescus, Rose would then be moved to the Beneviento house. Now, If u don’t know anything about 3 year olds, then you’re probably ignorant to the fact that they are some of the craftiest, sneakiest, and most coniving groups of people to exist on this planet. 3 year olds are masters at getting into and touching just about anything and everything u don’t want them to touch, and worst of all, u won’t realize what they’re doing until they’ve already done it and left a huge mess behind, so while the Dimitrescus love and adore Rose dearly, they know it’s sadly time to hand her over when they find her sitting on top of a pile of dead bodies playing with a metal scythe in the dungeons. Once Rose is dropped off at the Beneviento house, I imagine Donna is her usual stoic self the first few weeks Rose is with her. She’s not cold or distant necessarily, in fact she’s quite happy that it’s finally her turn with precious baby Rose, but Donna isn’t exactly known for being outwardly expressive herself (and even Angie isn’t being quite as forward as she normally is), so things are quiet and peaceful for the first little while that Rose is under her care. It’s not until Rose takes an interest in her doll Angie, and more importantly the things that Donna can do with Angie, that things really start getting fun. By the end of Rose’s first month in the Beneviento house she and Donna are the best of friends and often spend their days either playing dress up and make pretend with Donna’s extensive doll collection, or playing elaborate games of cat and mouse, where Donna will set up lots of puzzles throughout the house for Rose to find and solve (I.e. rose has to match her dress to the doll with the same one as her to find a map telling her which kitchen cabinet Donna hid the chocolate in, or something like that), but be careful little Rose, Angie has been trying to get her hands on that chocolate all day, and if u take too long, she’ll find the map first and eat all the chocolate without saving you a single piece. Just silly little puzzles with enough at stake to engage the mind of a curious 3 year old, but never enough to put rose in any actual danger. Donna is nothing if not a watchful caretaker, so she makes sure she has sight of Rose at all times, occasionally giving her a hint if she’s struggling, and perhaps occasionally making things harder if that day’s puzzle is proving too easy for her. Overall, Rose’s time with Donna, while not as grand and luxurious as the Dimitrescus, was still a fun and enriching experience for the young girl, and there’s nobody in this world who thinks that Donna’s scar is cool more than Rose.

3. After another 3 years with Donna, Rose is now 6 years old and officially far too good at puzzle solving for Donna to keep up with. No matter what she tries or how hard she makes it, Rose just keeps blazing through the puzzles at an almost alarming rate, making it clear that Rose is desperately in need of not only a change in scenery, but also a change in education, and this is where Salvatore finally comes in. After leaving the Beneviento house, I think the next logical place for Rose to stay would be with Salvatore, who, with lore hinting at him perhaps being a scholarly man of some kind, would basically act as her elementary school teacher throughout the duration of her stay. Now, to be fair, Rose could have gone to Heisenburg’s factory, but Heisenberg outright refused to take her and the other 3 lords decide that the factory is simply too dangerous for Rose rn, who thus far hasn’t shown any signs of being anything other than a normal human girl with no noticeable abilities (save for a smart mouth and a terrifying habit of popping up when least expected, a habit she mostly uses to mess with Heisenberg, much to his disdain and Lady Dimitrescu’s delight), so it is to the mutant fish man’s unimaginable delight that he is unanimously voted Roses next caretaker, and the one responsible for her basic education. Despite his initial excitement however, when Rose is finally dropped off at the windmills by Donna, Salvatore realizes that he’s not 100% sure what to do with Rose now that he has her. He’d like to get started on her education right away but at the same time he’s so fearful of Rose hating him because of his disgusting appearance that he kind of just... avoids her entirely at first. He’s never far away from the little girl and is always ready to jump to her rescue should she need it, but other than that Salvatore seldom allows himself to be seen for the first month that Rose is with him, the only sign of him still being around being the platefuls of food that mysteriously appear in Rose’s room 3 times a day, as well as the occasional shiny trinket Salvatore found and thought Rose would like. At first, rose doesn’t seem to mind being left entirely to her own devices, but after every stone, log, and rotting fish corpse within 5 miles of the lake has been turned over and thoroughly examined, Rose decides she’s had quite enough of her Uncle Sal ignoring her, prompting the headstrong little girl to go looking for him herself. She finds Salvatore hiding underneath a patch of floating algae not far away from where she was playing and all but demands that the mutant man come out of the water and give her something to do or she’d tell Mother on him. Salvatore, shocked by the small child’s fearlessly blunt request, hesitates, not wanting to frighten Rose, but ultimately relents, crawling out of the water and timidly suggesting that he teach her how to read and write. Rose quickly agrees, seeming totally unbothered by Salvatore’s grotesque appearance, and the two quickly move to the schoolroom that had been set up specifically for Rose, where Salvatore spends hours upon hours a day teaching Rose everything he knows, filling the little girl’s head up first with the basics, letters and words, then numbers and simple equations, followed later by historical dates and time periods, algebraic formulas, and classic literature analysis, then biology, chemistry, physics, astrology, calculus, ecology, and so much more. Basically, anything there is to know, Salvatore knows at least something about it and he’ll make sure that Rose knows about it too. In the 3 years Rose spends with Salvatore she goes from already sharp as a whip, to being smarter than most adults even, and Salvatore takes immense pride in how intelligent and knowledgable Rose becomes thanks to his surprisingly effective teaching style. Overall, as a caretaker, Salvatore is pretty weird and doubts himself a lot, but Rose thinks he’s funny and loves learning from him so they get along very well and she loves him very dearly! He probs teaches her to swim and fish too.

4. So another 3 years come and go with incredible speed, and its with great sadness on Salvatore’s part that Heisenberg finally comes banging on the fish man’s door, all but demanding that he now be given his turn with Rose. Now, personally, I can see several different arguments being raised by the other 3 lords over why its a terrible idea to let a 9 year old anywhere near Heisenberg, much less be given into his care fully. After about 9 years of seeing his siblings paling around with the constantly growing child, and looking like theyre having the time of their lives all the while, however, Karl decides that perhaps there’s more to this little girl than he originally thought, and, with his interest now piqued (or at the very least looking forward to pissing the other 3 off for entertainment purposes), that its only fair that he be given a turn with her now too, seeing as how he’s the only one who hasn’t been given the chance to be her caretaker yet. This naturally does NOT go over well with the other 3 lords. Alcina all but threatens to kill Karl should he step so much as within 10 ft of Rose, while Donna pipes up and demands to know what his sudden interest in Rose is. Even Salvatore, who is quick to flinch away from direct conflict, goes as far as to harshly point out the plethora of times Karl had outright denied their previous attempts to get him to engage with Rose, so why on earth would they hand her over to him now when he’s previously shown to have absolutely no interest in her? After a long spout of yelling between the 4 siblings, an agreement is reached, wherein Rose herself will be given the chance to decide whether she wants to go with Heisenberg, or whether she’ll return to one of the other 3 lords for the time being. It is to Alcina, Donna, and Salvatore’s absolute horror however, that Rose enthusiastically agrees to go with her Uncle Karl to live in his factory, and with the deal already set, the other lords can do nothing to stop her from going. The trip to drop off Rose at heisenberg’s factory is a long and arduous one, especially for Salvatore, who sobs the whole way there about Rose forgetting about him despite the young girl’s insistence that she’d visit. The first thing Karl does after officially having Rose handed over to him, is give her an extensive list of all the places in the factory in which she is under no circumstances permitted to enter without his permission (which basically only leaves the control room and the old storage closet that acts as her bedroom as viable places for Rose to go and explore). The second thing Karl does is dump her in her new storage closet bedroom and then hightail it for his workshop to work on whatever sick and twisted amalgamation he’s got cooked up this time around. At first, Rose isn’t terribly bothered by this, since she’s used to having something of an “adjustment period” when she’s with a new caretaker, but unfortunately for her, this adjustment period lasts a hell of a lot longer than the others did, and by the time 3 months of almost no meaningful contact with Karl, Rose decides to take matters into her own hands and ascends into the depths of the factory despite the express orders not to do so. Now, going back to the idea that the 4 lords are still pretty terrible people, I doubt Rose has been kept ignorant to the less savory aspects of her caretaker’s lives, and tbh she probably doesn’t think anything of the fact that the Dimitrescus makes wine out of the blood of virgin women or that Salvatore still does cadou experiments (and had her help on occasion), but I imagine even Rose would find the projects Karl works on to be at least a little

4, cont. gruesome and horrifying in nature, especially since Heisenberg is the one she knows the least about. However, instead of turning Rose away from Heisenberg, these terrifying metal creatures she sees locked up only spark her already insatiable curiosity, and by the time she finally tracks Karl down, Rose is all but trembling to learn more about this horrifyingly fascinating metal world. Unfortunately, Karl is not nearly as happy to see Rose as Rose is to see him, and the engineer all but grabs Rose by the scruff of her neck and drags her back up to the control room, yelling and screaming at her all the while about how she was explicitly instructed not to enter these parts of the factory without his permission. Needless to say that Rose does not enjoy this treatment and immediately lashes out, half out of anger and half out of confusion as to why Karl was treating her like this. He was the one who wanted her here in the first place, so why the hell was he just ignoring her now? It didn’t make any sense and it was starting to piss Rose off, so naturally the only thing left for her to do in order to solve this complicated situation would be to continue to disobey Karl until he either gave up and sent her back to one of the other lords, or finally payed some damn attention to her for once. So that’s exactly what she did. Every single day Rose left her room (which Karl kept telling himself he needed to put a lock on, but never did cuz he’s an idiot) and descended down into the depths of the factory looking for something ogle at or tinker with, and every single day Karl would track her down wherever she’d managed to get to and throw her back upstairs threatening to feed her to the lycans if she did it again. This incredibly frustrating cycle continued on for the better part of the next month or so, finally coming to a head when Rose managed to wander into the part of the factory where the... less than successful experiments got put whenever Karl doesn’t have any further use for them but is feeling too lazy to kill them off himself. Long story short, Rose runs into a Sturm that chases her around the factory, causing all manner of mayhem and destruction, and would have torn her to ribbons had it not been for Karl, who jumped in at the last second and was able to fend the damn thing off long enough for Rose to get the ever living fuck out and back up to the control room where it’s safe. There’s a lot of loud noises and explosions coming from deep within the factory that last for what feels like an eternity, but Rose doesn’t dare venture out again until everything has gone eerily quiet and a deep sense of worry has settled in the pit of her stomach over what had become of her latest caretaker. Turns out the Sturm had recognized its creator and, after watching its initial prey escape because of said creator, quickly decided that it fucking hated Karl with every fiber of its being and wanted him dead if it was the last thing it’s propellers did. Now, we all know that Karl is a big strong boy who’s more than capable of handling his own creations and taking down strong enemies, but the Sturm is a creation that even he struggles to control on good days and today is decidedly not a good day so not only does Karl not have the slightest bit of control over the death machine trying to kill him, but its also a lot stronger than Karl initially thought and apparently not picky about the method which causes Karl’s death, which is evidenced by the nearly dead Sturm ramming itself into a power generator as a final act of defiance and nearly blowing up the whole factory and everybody inside. Heisenberg is able to contain the explosion somehow but not without considerable damage to himself first. Rose is, naturally, quite horrified to find Karl passed out in the elevator that had taken him up from the lower levels of the factory where the explosion was, skin burnt nearly to a crisp in certain areas and blood pooling from just about every part of him, and immediately heads over to try and help her injured caretaker.

4, cont. again cuz I physically can’t stop myself. Now, I imagine that any normal 9 year old probably wouldnt be able to handle this sort of situation in any meaningful way, but i think we can all agree that Rose is the furthest thing from normal (especially considering who raised her) and has probably seen enough blood and gore to not be terribly freaked out by it, but this is where things get a little speculative because we don’t know what Rose’s powers are exactly but we do know from the final cutscene that she does have them, perhaps even a plethora of abilities, and I like to think that some of those powers are related to Ethan’s superhuman healing capabilities, but unlike Ethan however, who from what we’ve seen could only heal himself, Rose can actually heal other people (tho this isn’t something she’s aware of at this point in time). The second the elevator door opens to reveal, what looks to be, a half-dead Karl slumped over in the corner, Rose panics and runs to him, doing everything she can think of save for maybe grabbing him by the collar or slapping him across the face, to try and get Karl to wake up, except nothing works, he wont wake up no matter how hard Rose tries and i imagine this must be incredibly distressing for Rose who never intended for something like this to happen or for her caretaker to die because he had to protect her even tho he told her not to go down there because its dangerous and anything down there WOULD kill her if given the opportunity. Anyways Rose is now full on sobbing on top of Karl like only a 9 year old who just discovered that her actions have consequences can, but unbeknownst to her (and technically Karl cuz he’s a little busy bleeding out all over the floor) Karl’s wounds are slowly beginning to close, the burns on his face and hands shift from a bright red to a dark brown before crusting over and flaking off, and even his breathing, which had been labored and inconsistent at first, began to level out slightly. Karl woke up not long after that and was surprised to find that a) he was still alive, which was cool, b) he was injured but not in indescribable pain, also cool, and c) there was a literal sobbing child all but sitting on top of him, which is definitely not something Karl was expecting but he supposed he’s been met with worse things upon waking up after almost dying so why question it. After taking a moment to gather their bearings, the two return to the safer parts of the factory to rest and recover and for the most part this little incident of their’s goes largely unspoken, with Rose not exactly in the mood to talk about how her disobedience nearly got herself and Karl killed, and Karl being too fucking tired to go after her about it, especially since she seems to have learned her lesson. The only downside to this whole thing is that now Karl has a busted up fuckin leg thats gonna take an eternity to heal even for him, and with so much work to still do he’s more or less forced to drag Rose around the factory and use her like the annoying assistant he never wanted (except he did want her, thats how this whole fucking mess started, you lug), except that Rose, who is more than used to playing lab assistant from her time with Salvatore, quickly proves to be a rather capable and handy person to have around, if only because she knows the difference between a philips and a flathead screwdriver even better than he does. An amicable, if still slightly awkward peace settles over Heisenberg’s factory once Karl starts actively engaging with Rose and giving her something to do on a daily basis, even if its just standing around watching him work and occasionally having her questions about what he’s doing answered. It doesn’t take very long after that for Karl to begin realizing that perhaps throwing a huge tantrum to get Rose to come here only to ditch her upstairs by herself for 3 months might not have been the smartest (or most considerate) thing he’s ever done, and even goes as far as to (kinda) apologize to Rose for being such a dick to her since she arrived.

4, last one i swear. Rose forgives him, though not before adding that she already knew he was an asshole from Alcina, which earns her a halfhearted swipe from Karl that Rose easily dodges with a childish giggle. From that point on their relationship improves astronomically as Karl finally gives in and teaches Rose about about engineering and everything else that goes into making the metal horrors that he’s known for. Karl is shocked at how quickly Rose picks up on the trade, getting to the point where Karl wonders if he should start giving Rose her own projects to work on, but quickly rolls his eyes and groans when he remember that Salvatore was the one responsible for her education up until this point, the mere thought of having to give compliments to that “moronic freak” for giving Rose such a good educational foundation makes him want to vomit despite how secretly impressed he is. Overall, Rose’s time with Heisenberg starts out shaky, very shaky even, but after a bit of disaster and some swallowing of the pride on Karl’s part, they end up growing quite close and have a nice fun Uncle and martass Neice dynamic. They make a good team and Karl does genuinely enjoy having a little assistant around to help him with his projects, even if Rose can sound a bit too much like Alcina on some days for his liking.

5. 3 more years come and go and now Rose is a strong and healthy 12 years old, perhaps riddled with a few more scars and smearings of ash and motor oil across her skin than when she first arrived but still strong and capable nonetheless. Going back to that first statement however, this of course means that it’s time for the other 3 lords to come banging on Karl’s door for a change, all but demanding that Rose be handed back over to them. Karl of course refuses, telling them all to fuck off and that Rose didn’t want a leave the factory, so upon realization that all 4 lords were gathered here with the intention of taking Rose back to live with them indefinitely, a fight immediately breaks out between the 4 siblings, as each one makes their case as to why Rose should be returned to them and not the other 3, which of course none of the 4 lords can come to an agreement about because they ALL want Rose to stay with them. So after another long and pointlessly arduous argument, Alcina finally breaks, proclaiming that they’d be here for all eternity of they didn’t make a decision now, and that, like the first time the 4 siblings argued over whether Rose should go with Heisenberg or return to one of the previous lords, Rose would be the one to decide which of her four caretakers she would return to. The agreement is made reluctantly, mostly on the part of Salvatore, Donna, and Heisenberg, but there was seemingly no other way for them to come to a decision, so it would unfortunately have to be up to Rose to decide which of her 4 caretakers she wants to stay with permanently. Rose is quickly brought before the 4 lords and explained the situation, before being given some time to herself to think and make her final decision. A tense and uneasy silence falls over the 4 lords as they wait for the little girl, who they had shown an uncharacteristic amount of mercy and time and devotion and love in the 12 years since Mother Miranda had brought her to the village with the intention of using her to revive an already lost and long-gone baby that she never would have gotten back no matter how hard she tried. Although they refused to admit it to one another, the lords all secretly knew that Rose had wormed her way into each of their cold, dead hearts, reviving an aspect of their humanity that they’d all thought had been lost ages ago. Rose came to the village bringing with her a wave of death and destruction, and yet throughout her childhood she has brought them nothing but light and life, illuminating their previously dark and desolate existences. The 4 lords loved their Rose very dearly and desperately wanted her to be happy, yet each of them possesses a dark and selfish desire to have Rose pick them over the other 3, to come and live with them forever and fill the hole deep inside them that they never knew needed filling. After a short while, Rose comes back out and stands before her 4 beloved caretakers, looking around nervously as she picks at her fingernails. The silence is thick and heavy as the 4 lords stare at the young girl, waiting with bated breaths for her to give her final verdict. Rose continues to say nothing as tears begin to flow from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks in thick streams as the girl begins to sob, dropping her head and clenching her dress. The 4 lords look between one another in confusion, unsure of what to do with this sudden burst of tears. Rose tearfully admits that she can’t and doesn’t want to choose which of the 4 lords she wants to live with permanently because she loves them all very much and wants to be able to see and live with all of them, like they’ve done thus far. Although the lords detest the idea of having to share Rose with anyone, they reluctantly come to an agreement for the girl’s sake, deciding that they would continue with the arrangement they’ve had thus far, only that Rose would switch between caretakers every 3 months instead of every 3 years, giving rose plenty of opportunities to see each of her caretakers just like she wanted. From then on, Rose continues to live her life

5, cont. growing up and learning more and more from each of her beloved caretakers. Although Rose would likely never know what a normal life looks like, living with 4 criminally insane monsters in the remote mountain village in Romania, it would be impossible to say that she wouldn’t have a happy life despite that. Perhaps its because the girl simply doesn’t know any better, so she doesn’t have the ability to see just how messed up her life and her 4 caretakers really are, but i imagine that Rose probably wouldn’t care very much to learn even if she had the opportunity. She’s a happy little girl living a strange but enjoyable life with the only family she’ll ever need. What more could she possibly ask for?

6. As for how Mother Miranda would play into this whole scenario I’ve just drunkenly spat out, im honestly not 100% sure. Ive seen some people suggesting that MM just kinda chills and lets the lords do what they want with Rose, but tbh I honestly don’t see that happening in this universe. MM would still have been just as crazy and driven to get Eva back as she was in canon, so i doubt she’d willingly standby and let her “false children” take away her one shot of getting her real child back simply because they didn’t want to hurt her, i just don’t personally see that happening. The two most likely scenarios i can come up with is that the Lords either banded together and look Miranda on together, their combined forces being enough to take her down and kill her, OR, Ethan is the one to take down MM like he did in canon but he passes out before he can get to rose, giving the lords (who he hadn’t ended up killing but just escaping from i guess) the opportunity to slide in, grab rose, and hightail it out of there, leaving Ethan’s body to be retrieved by Chris, who, due to not seeing or hearing Rose anywhere, believes that Rose must have been accidentally killed along with MM, which he later tells to Ethan and Mia. Regardless of how MM gets taken out of the picture (or if she’s given room to potentially come back later), the 4 lords retreat with Rose and begin the whole cycle I explained up above, but i did want to briefly address how I saw MM fitting into all of this since she is a vital part of the original story and the biggest obstacle to the lords having anything to do with Rose.

Anyways, that was so much longer than I intended it to be but I had so much fun with it just because it gave me the opportunity to spit some fun ideas and potential plot points out about this cool AU that I like and hope someone does SOMETHING with, please god someone do it, I’d do it myself but i have enough projects at the moment unfortunately. If you managed to make it all the way to the bottom, thank you for reading all of that, I appreciate it, and I hope you enjoyed at least some parts of this, and maybe even agree with some of the things I said. Feel free to leave your own ideas in the comments, I’d love to read them and hopefully if enough people like this maybe i will actually do something with it. Who knows? I certainly dont. Anyways thank you for reading all this, i hope you have a great day, and maybe ill see you around in another post. Bye!!! <3

[linorachas]

track 01. | bang chan

⁍ pairing — bang chan x gn!reader ⁍ genre — fluff, hurt and comfort ⁍ word count — 2.6k words ⁍ details — established relationship, kisses!!!, self-doubt on reader's part ⁍ notes — this fic was supposed to be a drabble, but i may have gotten carried away because it hit close to home and maybe i need reassurance from chan Too ok damn. this one is for anon, and for every person out there who didn't get the results that they wanted, big or small. bear hugs from me and chan. you did well ♥️ ⁍ the mixtape series — this series will be for my fics that are heavily inspired by songs! i'm a very music-oriented person, so expect more of these in the future. ⁍ summary —  Chan was there for you. It was that simple.

♬ now playing:

when you love someone (day 6) ⤷ on queue: grow up (skz)

Chan knew something was wrong the moment he stepped through the door.

He should have no reason to know, really. Your days started off on a good note, sweet kisses exchanged and promises made before he left for work. You texted him sporadically throughout the day, but the texts tapered off sometime after lunch.

He hadn’t thought anything of it then, but now that he’s seen you, it took every bit of his strength to not just shake your shoulders and ask you what was wrong so he could fix it and make it better and destroy whatever it is that upset you.

He knew you liked to play your problems off like they were nothing, brushing it off in fear that you would bother the people around you. You would ignore all your problems and let it boil over if you could. And he knew this was one of those times, because you hadn’t texted him about it. Greeted him at the front door like normal, distracted him with your bright smiles and kisses that leave him breathless.

But… he sees the way your smile tightened.

The way you blinked rapidly when you thought he wasn’t looking, staring up at the ceiling to try and alleviate the stinging in your eyes. He sees it in the way you wore your (his) comfiest sweater and turned on your comfort show at a loud volume, as if you were doing all your favorite things to convince both Chan and yourself that you were fine.

But he also saw how none of these things worked, and that you were hiding something, and it was hurting you.

“Minho called today,” you start talking as you both walk to the kitchen, and Chan finds you had already prepared dinner. You bustle around the kitchen, telling him about Minho’s trip to the vet with Dori, Jeongin’s new hobby, Hyunjin’s current drama obsession.

You talk and you talk, finding little things to do, like moving the cereal box and rearranging condiments. Chan moves to get the rice like he always does, but the ache in his heart slows his movements.

He didn’t like seeing you like this, putting up a front for him. He didn’t mind you hiding what was wrong. He understood that it was hard for you to talk about your problems, and he wasn’t going to push for you to do so. But it didn’t sit right with him that you had to put on a smile, when you were clearly struggling.

So he bites the bullet.

“Baby,” he calls, stopping you mid-rant. He knew eye contact made you nervous, especially with the question he’s about to ask, so Chan keeps his gaze trained on the rice cooker. He scoops out the rice methodically, keeping his voice light. “Did something happen today?”

You laugh, but even you can feel the nerves in it. “Nothing much, Channie. I’m fine! Anyway, I really thought they’d have it, you know. It was all over the internet. I’d have ordered it online, but shipping seemed too expensive. Some of the-“

“Stop it.”

You freeze at Chan’s tone, and you turn around slowly to see him frowning at the counter, bowl placed down. You meet eyes when he turns to look at you too, but he softens immediately when he sees how caught off guard you were, eyes still wide.

With a sad smile, he shuffles closer to you, reaching for your hand. But he stops before he actually gets to touch it, looking at you cautiously as if asking for permission to hold you.

Your heart throbbed.

As soon as you manage a shaky nod, Chan takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together. He takes your other hand as well, but this one he brings up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

Heart stuttering, you croak, “Chan-“

“I’m here.” Chan reassures firmly, as if it was that simple. He tears through the walls you’ve built up the entire day, like they were made of cardboard instead of concrete. The stinging in your eyes worsens, because maybe it was that simple.

Chan was here. He was here, and maybe you were safe now, maybe you could let yourself cry for a bit, maybe you could let him hold you and you could forget, maybe-

He sighs, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh earlier. You can tell me to leave and I will, but I’ll be right outside that door until you allow me inside again. I’m right here, Y/N.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand, but this one is longer.

Lips brushing against your palm, he promises, “Whatever it is, I’m right here with you.”

And the dam breaks.

You don’t register the tears rapidly flowing down your cheeks until you see the way Chan panics, and the sight would have made you laugh any other time, but unfortunately you were too busy crying your heart out. Chan makes a wounded noise when he gathers you up in his arms, and your hands clutch at his shirt desperately, finding your safe space in the crook of his neck.

You hiccup and you sob and you shake, but all Chan does is hold you tighter and tighter, almost like he was holding together the pieces that were slowly breaking off you.

Like it was that simple.

He doesn’t say anything, except for the occasional hushing when you choke on a sob. One of his hands was wrapped snugly around your waist, keeping you close, while the other stayed at the back of your head. He was shielding you like this, hiding you away from the world that hurt you so much.

He starts swaying once your sobs die down. He rocks you back and forth slowly, humming under his breath just so you could have some music to sway to. It distracts you, and focusing on his humming eventually leads you to focus on your own breathing too.

You only pull away once his nails start gently scratching your scalp, afraid you would fall asleep on him if he continues any longer. You look up at him then, with puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks, and Chan— who was never the one to resort to violence first— feels a lick of immediate anger deep in his soul for the person, or the thing, or whatever it was that made you like this.

Meanwhile, you look mournfully at the big wet patch on Chan’s shirt, berating yourself for being gross. Chan follows your gaze and laughs softly. He tears your gaze away from it by tilting your head up, two fingers under your chin. You meet his gaze and sniffle, apologetic.

“I’ll make you wash that later.” Chan’s nose scrunches, smiling at you playfully. Your lips quirk at that for a quick second, but the relief that washes over Chan at the miniscule expression was massive.

Brushing your hair away from your face, he sighs, “Now who made my baby cry, huh? I’ll beat them up for you. Really.”

You snort, about to tell him he couldn’t even hurt a fly, but then a fresh wave of tears well up in your eyes again just from the question alone and Chan coos as he brings you back in your arms.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I’m not forcing you. We don’t have to talk about it, okay?”

You shake your head at that, face still buried in his chest. It’s not that you didn’t want to tell him, you were just…

You hiccup, furiously wiping at your tears as you pull away. Chan’s face was so open, so understanding and so ready to fight whatever upset you that the worlds bubble up in your throat before you could stop them.

Fuck it.

You face Chan again, steeling yourself as you whisper, brokenly;

“I didn’t get it.”

A look of realization and shock flickers on Chan’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. It’s replaced with understanding, his gentle smile just coaxing more tears out of you. He cups your face between his two hands, shushing you.

“Oh, my baby.” He sighs, brushing your tears away with his thumb. He opens his mouth to ask how he can help, but surprisingly, you keep talking.

“It’s just so stupid.” You start, and then the words just don’t stop. “I feel so stupid. I know I shouldn’t be crying over this because I have other applications and- and-“

“Don’t say that,” Chan frowns, not wanting to interrupt you but also not wanting to hear you say you were stupid. “You’re allowed to cry over anything. No matter how big or small it is. There are no rules about what you should or shouldn’t cry to. I know how much you wanted that, Y/N.” He shakes his head, “You have every right to be upset.”

You swallow, letting Chan’s words sink into your bones. Exhaling shakily, your hands come up to grip his wrists.

“Everybody— my other friends, they kept telling me that I did my best, and I should just focus on the fact that I gave it my all, but if I— if I did my best, if I gave everything I had, why didn’t I…” you trail off, looking at Chan imploringly, as if he knew the answers to your question. “Chan, why didn’t they-“

You’re wrapped in another tight hug before you could finish your sentence, Chan pulling you so close that not even air could get between you two. His grip should be suffocating with how tight it was, but it just made you feel more safe. Secured. Protected.

Loved.

“Tell me what you need, baby.” Chan asks when he pulls away, eyes searching your face desperately.

He hated seeing you like this, but most of all, he hated knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. This wasn’t something he could change with a snap of a finger, or something he could avenge you for. But hell would freeze over first before he’d let you deal with this alone.

“You,” you finally croak out, falling into the safety of his arms again. Here, nothing could hurt you. Here, you were safe. “Just you. Please.”

And his heart breaks.

Chan swallows, feeling that same lick of anger rise up again. But he pushes it down, because nothing else mattered in the world right now but you.

He coaxes you out of the kitchen, hands still intertwined as he leads you to your bedroom. He sits on the middle of the bed first, leaning back against the headboard. Then he opens his arms wide, and you crawl into his lap, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

The hand he slips under your shirt makes you shudder, but there was nothing sexual about it. You’ve unknowingly been cold all day, the nerves from waiting for that damn email somehow lowering your body temperature and forcing you to bundle up. Just an hour ago, you had wanted nothing but to curl up under a blanket and hide from the world, shivering. But now, Chan felt like a furnace, and for every place that his hand touches, your skin warmed.

You didn’t need to hide now, because Chan was here.

It was that simple.

Chan takes your hand again, bringing it up to his lips. He presses a kiss to each of your fingernails, even tilting his head so he could kiss the thumb. He’s smiling as he does it, with that goofy little smile he does when he’s trying to act cute and make you smile. You’ve long stopped trying to discern if the smile you do end up making is because of his cuteness, or because he looked kind of hilarious.

Today, you realize it’s because you love him.

And another smile is tugged out of you again, because you’re reminded that he loves you.

It shows when he presses gentle kisses to the palm and the back of your hand too, down to your wrist. He shows it again when a cool draft of wind comes in through your open bedroom window, and Chan’s already throwing the covers over the both of you before you could even shiver.

He shows it once more when he captures your lips in a chaste kiss, and it’s still as sweet as the first one you ever shared, when you were both nervous but just as in love.

“You’re allowed to hurt.” Chan whispers after you guys spend a few minutes of silence just basking each other in, Chan rocking you side to side, his cheek pressed on top of your head. “You’re allowed to cry. I don’t want you to ever think that you can’t be upset about this. Yes, you did do your best, and that’s something to be proud of. But it still hurts here, doesn’t it?”

He touches your intertwined hands to your chest, right where your heart was located. You nod shakily. He smiles softly.

“So let it hurt. Let it hurt now, and when it passes- when, baby.” he looks you in the eye, determined and sure, “remember this: when. Not if. Never if. Because this will pass, and we’re going to get up tomorrow and find you other options. We’ll continue tomorrow and we’ll find another way like we always do. You’re doing well. You’re doing just fine, and I know you’re doing your best. But for now, you let it hurt so you can heal from it…”

Despite himself, Chan’s voice breaks. Because even though letting you hurt now was essential, that didn’t mean he liked it. He wished desperately for some kind of way to transfer your pain to him, just for a moment.

The stinging in your eyes comes back on full force again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Chan catches the teardrop by your lash line before it could even roll down your cheek.

“...and I will be right here with you.”

He promises, nose nudging against yours gently. Your eyes flutter close when Chan leans up to press his lips against your forehead, muttering even more promises. He intended to keep every single one of them.

It didn’t matter that it seemed unrealistic to promise so many things. Chan would fight tooth and nail to live up to those promises, if it meant putting a smile on your face. He’d do just about anything if it meant seeing your lips twitch or your eyes gleam or your cheeks flush over and over again.

Your gestures and expressions were things he learned to take note of early in your relationship, ever since he realized you liked putting up a front. Every day, he learns something new about what a certain gesture or expression meant, and every day he falls in love with each of them a little bit more.

So to see such a pained, guarded expression on your face; it drove him crazy. He wanted nothing more than to find the source of your pain and make them suffer too, no matter how illogical that sounded.

But then your hand twitches again his, your hair tickling him from where you’ve buried your face on his neck, and he remembers that you need him right now.

You needed him to stay, and he was more than willing to do so. He didn’t mind if his body ached in this position, or if he had to stay up all night to distract you from your thoughts. It didn’t matter if you wanted to go out in the middle of the night for a distraction, or if you wanted to stay and shut yourselves in. He’d do all of it in a heartbeat.

Just so he could ease the pain in your chest, even just for a little bit.

Because it was simple: he loves you, and whatever you wanted to do and wherever you wanted to go…

You will always, always have him.