#i swear I'm a more or less well adjusted human being

[stxneflxwers]

unpalatable.

⋯⁂ summary. suffering with disordered eating, you try your best to brush it off as being picky (as many others in your life have done before.) but, your beloved doesn't think it's mere pickiness anymore.

⋯⁂ a/n. short and sweet post here; so im not really worried about small grammar errors, word count, formatting, or what have you. i just need to get this icky feeling off my mind, ok? for the record as well: i'm writing all of this on tumblr post editor and not in gdocs like i normally do. so there's gonna be things lacking compared to my normal, "formal" works.

⋯⁂ characters. neuvillette. zhongli. wriothesley. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. reader has disordered eating (this is different from eating disorders, pls read further about it online if you want/must!) reader has poor self-esteem. characters being very very sweet. fluff. might be some hurt/comfort and panic. reader's weight is NOT described. there might be occasional OOC moments, but i tried my best to avoid it lol.

neuvillette.

he doesn't think anything of it at first. he understands the life of being..."picky" as some so rudely put it. he prefers his foods very moisturized, any dryness can be too much for his senses at times (most of the time.) the texture when it comes to something dry or even spicy can be very unpleasant; he swears if he ate sandpaper, that's what it'd taste and feel like.

when he starts noticing the worse..."quirks" about your eating habits, he's not sure how to word his concerns to you. he gets around to it and he can only hope he isn't too horribly late about it. he isn't, but he feels like he's late to saying something anyway.

once you both talk it over, he's already helping out. even if he's not quite sure exactly what he's doing. he's the type to fill your head and heart with sweet reassurances and even sweeter praises for doing your best, his smiles are the sweetest treat of all when he tells you these things, though.

even if he's stiff or awkward about the subject and tackling the problem at the root, he's as supportive as he can be. although, don't mistake this support as letting you get away without eating for long periods of time. he can and will pester you frequently about whether you've properly ate (and hydrated) recently. do your best to not damage his lover, alright?

zhongli.

believe it or not, he entirely gets the feeling of uneasiness and the occasional nausea behind a lot of dishes. fish is his worst enemy, for starters. his species doesn't really require tons of food to live off of, unlike your average human. so, when he first started "indulging" in more human dishes, he soon discovered what a gag reflex was. he won't admit to it, but he really hated it back then.

of course, that was so many centuries ago. he's adjusted fine enough to more dishes these days. and when you tell him about your struggles with eating, you initially write it off as you being childish.

he thinks not.

he doesn't let you get away with calling yourself childish—or any sort of derogatory statement that spits out of your mouth.

his hand slides up to yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. and a promise that he'll do his absolute best to help you conquer these problems with food and eating. even when you start to branch out and eat a bit more than you usually do, he feels so proud of you.

he gives you a shining smile, a peck to the forehead, and holds your sweet, cute face with his big hands; while also filling your mind with praises and affirmations about how well you're doing so far. he loves you so dearly, don't push him away.

wriothesley.

you try your absolute best to hide it from him, the man who is maybe the least bothered by most foods. at least, the one man from fontaine, that is. he really doesn't care too much about what he's eating, as long as it's edible. call it a habit from being an orphan. of course, he has his preferences, but who doesn't?

so, when he catches you eating less or being a little too selective (he's observant enough, don't test him), he brings it up right away in private—he makes sure it's with only you two in the room. he'll ask if you're feeling sick or anything lately, promising you that sigewinne can help out.

when you skirt around the subject, he pouts just a little. it's enough to get you to break down in front of him. you call yourself some nasty things over being rather selective about food, feeling incompetent and weird compared to him.

and he really can't believe what he's hearing at first.

his icy eyes go wide and he blinks on repeat like a broken record. he's still registering what you just said about yourself—his darling cutie. he smiles bittersweetly and shakes his head, it's the most he can muster at first. he's still in disbelief.

your heart sinks into the depths of your gut at the response, burning alive and leaving behind literal heartburn in your throat. before you can leave the room, he scurries up behind you and wraps his arms around you, imprisoning you in the softest way.

he tells you he'll help out if you want it and allow him to, mentioning that he hates to see you suffer. he gives you a loving but tight squeeze (one that's perhaps a little suffocating.) he promises to you to help you suffer, at least, less than before.

he loves you too much to see you in any type of pain, external or internal.

you're a prisoner of your own mind while also a cruel warden to yourself. and if it's the last thing he'll ever do, he swears he'll change at least that much.

[bonny-kookoo]

Could we get a Sweet Tooth drabble, of the first time Jimin and Yoongi catch JK & MC cuddling?

When Jungkook doesn't show up the next morning like he usually does, Yoongi is a little confused at first. So while Jimin is still showering, he takes a peek into the room his hybrid shares with you, just to spot Jungkook sleepily waving at him, the problem pretty obvious to anybody looking;

You're sleeping pretty much on top of the dog hybrid, legs and arms around him, even your tail curled around his thigh, while your head resting on his chest, one of your ears occasionally twitching in your sleep. Jungkook is being held hostage, and Yoongi can't help but look at the scene with an amused face.

"Are they up-" Jimin starts, though he's quickly cut off by Yoongi who holds a finger to his lip, pointing at you both, making the younger human laugh to himself.

You're suddenly taking in a deep breath, brows furrowing as you stretch your limbs, before turning your head, eyes slowly opening while your tail uncurls. You clearly need to take a moment to gain somewhat consciousness- and for a moment, you're cute-

and then you're glaring at Yoongi again, tail whipping from side to side in irritation already this early in the morning. "What're you staring at, creep?" You growl, and Yoongi laughs.

"Nothing." He responds, arms crossed. "You comfortable there?" He teases, and much to Jimin's surprise, (You're normally not open at all with affection of any sorts, at least not if someone else could be watching) you adjust your position just mildly to have less weight on Jungkook, though you're still halfway leaning over him.

"No, because I'm being gawked at like a traffic accident." You mumble, making Jungkook chuckle.

Yoongi shakes his head, leaving you both be, while Jimin smiles. "Let's get ready now-" He starts, but you shake your head, nuzzling into Jungkook's skin because of that, refusing, and surprising both the human and the hybrid you're misusing as your personal pillow. "No?" Jimin asks, and you shake your head again, eyes already closed.

"Nop." You deny. "I wanna sleep more." You state, not even asking the dog hybrid you're clinging onto if he wants to get up. It's out of the question for you. That dog should feel honored to serve as your personal comforter, so he's got no option to really opt out now.

Well- he does, you're sure he doesn't actually need to ask to get up at all, considering his toned body. He could pretty much just push you off- but he doesn't. Maybe because he doesn't want to be mean, or maybe because he's tired as well, you're not sure.

What you are sure of is Jimin's hesitance before he leaves, clearly caught off guard by you no longer reaching for him any chance you get.

And as it's quiet in the room, you move your head a little, chin on his chest to look at him. "...you wanna get up?" You ask quietly, hesitant, almost shy- and he just chuckles, shaking his head.

"Nah.. I'm comfortable." He tells you, and swears by his life that you turn a little red at that, before you turn your head away again-

curling up a bit tighter against him, before you fall asleep once more.

[sserajeans]

you are in love | 24. match made in ocean

- gyuthegoofy started a video call.

- ynthesexy, hanthebitch, and wonythemvp joined the call.

audio directory: wonyoung, leehan, gyuvin, y/n

—

"so what are we supposed to be looking at here?"

"the fundraiser proposal.... again."

"someone needs to hold me back before i commit a REAL HEINOUS CRIME against that hagrat excuse of a principal."

"i'm so glad you said that over call instead of text 'cause..."

"shut up."

"wait guys focus please..."

"right sorry."

"i'm using all the brain juice i got i swear but this is so hard."

"right? i have no idea how serenades didnt pass..."

"as much as i'd hate singing around with y/n it was a good idea as a fundraiser. low cost."

"matches the school tradition too. i don't know why so many people confess around christmas time, but it could've worked!"

"for real. hagrat lim."

"you're going down with y/n."

"absolutely not! how could the ever-so-lovely scholar kim gyuvin be disrespectful to his teachers! meanwhile school jock swim captain lee y/n..."

"I'M NOT EVEN A JOCK?"

"we're definitely getting off topic."

"oops..."

"anyways..."

"i think we should definitely stick to something on the romance side. it just sells more?"

"yeah, we can make it a little general for people who wanna do it for friends or family too."

"okay so... romance... romantics... what's something you guys would like to receive?"

"flowers without pollen."

"i laughed a bit i'm sorry."

"jellies!"

"candy could be low-cost, but won't the students feel like they could just buy them from the grocery or the cafeteria?"

"flowers could work. it's quite tiresome to pass by florist shops these days, so having them close by is convenient. sorry, y/n."

"i mean... i guess i'll be fine if i take the medicine before leaving?"

"i'm sorry y/n... we'll keep this as a backup idea so we can continue looking for something better and less... life threatening?"

"it's okay guys i don't mind it as long as principal lim gets off our back."

"we'll think of something else y/n... this'll just be the absolute last resort."

"speaking of flowers and y/n's pollen allergy though..."

"i know where this is going."

"I'M SORRY OKAY.... we just, or i, just wanna know!"

"didn't i tell you already??"

"details, y/n... details!!"

"I ALMOST DIED GYU..."

"LMAO PLEASE..."

"okay so you almost died... DETAILS!!"

"fine..."

"stay strong lee y/n..."

"we went to the cafe after practice, we talked about stuff. started with classes and how she's adjusting to the workload of juniors, then how i'm going around with colleges as an athlete. speaking of which, coach gave me a semi-scolding over text earlier today, but moving on."

"god he dumps the pressure of the swim team's success on you as if he isn't the literal COACH."

"for real like y/n is human too... hello?"

"yeah, then when we got to the cafe we had a mini argument over who was gonna pay but the cashier suggested to pay for our own, so that's what we did."

"you're so... anti-romantic."

"what? what did i do??"

"you're supposed to pay for her regardless, like never back down."

"NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT?"

"NEVER GIVE UP!!"

"but it was a date that dani asked for, so? kinda cancels out right, wony?"

"hm... i guess.. anyways, continue, y/n."

"well... yeah after i updated wony via text when i was in the toilet, we mostly talked about our interests and stuff. so me and movies, music, and mostly swim."

"90% swim. you might've bored her to death..."

"don't say that!"

"i'm being honest! she might've thought you were a fish in your past life or something..."

"she brought up swim in the conversation first actually! she said she swims a lot whenever she goes back home to australia during the summers."

"well isn't that a lovely surprise? match made in heaven!"

"match made in ocean.."

"she definitely knows how to keep y/n hooked that's for sure."

"oh yeah... great pair in that sense!"

"what were the other interests she talked about?"

"flowers, plants, nature in general! she's so outdoorsy."

"this is so ironic 'cause didn't you almost fail biology?"

"so that's where the park part came from..."

"no i did not almost fail bio... it just simply is my lowest scoring subject okay..."

"whatever you say!"

"but yeah that's when she brought up the park, and i just couldn't say no. she was talking about how this specific flower only bloomed in autumn and she wanted to see it at its first day."

"you didn't bother telling her you had an allergy?"

"she sounded so excited you guys i didn't want to ruin that... and i guess i kinda wanted to see the flowers too, they were really pretty! i'll show you pics."

"you couldn't say no to flowers... so you just put your life at risk instead?"

"i had a mask! and i didn't think it'd react that bad again."

"right."

"so yeah that's all that happened, really."

"sounds like you had a fun enough time to almost kill yourself!"

"OH MAN....."

"YES I DID! okay? i did have a fun time! she's really nice, cute, pretty, outgoing and all. we talked about going to a different nature park to rent bikes next time."

"i'm kicking my feet in the air right now you guys have no idea."

"we do actually."

"and don't bother showing us."

"yeah we can go a day without seeing your feet gyu."

"I DIDN'T EVEN OFFER?"

"you'd do it whether we liked it or not, unfortunately."

"she's right on that... AND DID YOU SAY NEXT TIME?"

"SHE DID!!"

"weren't we supposed to be finishing work so we could be free tomorrow? right we were! isn't that right, wony?"

"but... but that's... fine, yeah."

"wonderful! let's get back to work then!"

masterlist. next.

taglist: @yyeonmis @lostamoeba @jisooftme @yoontoonwhs @awkwardtoafault @kvnii @lcv3lies @limbforalimb @spritin @kaypanaq @i06kkura @manooffline @kimsgayness @justme-idle @jenaissantex @mightymyo @sewiouslyz @txtbrainrot @li0ilthecxnt @captivq @paranoxic @sofakingwoso @daniellobers @pandafuriosa60 @haerinkisser @staryujinnie @wowowowcake @lesleepyyy @haechansbbg @rosiehrs @jiwoneiric

[iwriteasfotini]

A query about AO3 ratings and opinions about underage consensual sex in fanfiction.

My series begins in first year, so the rating will start teen and then progress as the kids age. My understanding is mature content shouldn't contain ANY sort of semi-graphic sexual content. But I also am writing two versions of the more descriptive sex scenes, one being what I consider explicit, even though it definitely isn't as hard core as it can go. And the other being... Well, I suppose less explicit...? I'm planning to rate the book explicit, and still offer the more descriptive chapters in a different location. As far as I remember, AO3 uses an honor system in declaring whether you are old enough to read explicit content.

Why bother, you may ask. And my answer is, it's underage consensual sex, which I feel might be a sticky topic (hmmm, yeah there's a pun there) for some people. Here's the thing. Sex is human, sexual development is a process which takes place during the teen years and beyond. And I feel to leave it out is inauthentic to these characters lives. I saw a fabulous post about how sex is often misrepresented in fanfiction. I'll just go ahead and say this is the case in all fiction people (anybody read ACOTAR?)! Duh, no one wants to read the reality of messy, awkward, not as mind blowing as you wished it was sex. We all get plenty of that in real life.

So, I wanted to write scenes which are still good (we are still in fantasy land after all), but show the characters learning about themselves, each other, consent, etc. And because I start they story when they are eleven, we watch them learn and adjust their attitudes over years before any of them actually start having sex. We get to see how each person/pair approaches it differently. The whole point of this post is I feel conflicted about the explicit rating because I wonder if it will exclude the exact audience I'm writing for. I'm writing for myself as a teen, what I wish I could have had access to through fiction. Something really enticing but also REAL. Like here's an often overlooked reality... Sex is always a bit messy no matter your anatomy/methods, and some sex isn't as messy as you think it might be. Why is this rarely included in published fiction and in fanfiction?

Anyways, I've tried to make my sex scenes as mild as possible without completely leaving it out. Really hard to do btw. And then my true explicit scenes are also not pornographic, because they are teens!!! Am I right in using an explicit rating for both situations? Better safe than sorry?

On a related note, is there a certain number of f-bombs you can drop in a story at various ratings? Have you ever hung out by a skatepark? Every other word those kids (and yes I meant kids, maybe tweens...) speak is a swear word, I feel like I'm actually using it in my writing very sparsely!

Reblogs are welcome to try and glean more opinions! Cheers

*If you think underage sex doesn't happen or have a place in fanfiction, we will just have to agree to disagree. I'm a parent and I will be far more focused on being the type of parent my child can come to with questions and curiosities about something they may have read or come across, than trying to keep that content away from them. Once a kid gets unsupervised internet access, you cannot pretend you are limiting what they are exposed to.

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Come Go With Me

A Michael Gavey fic.

EDIT: Now with art! (just a sketch tho)

Summary: It's the spring of 2007 and Michael Gavey has so far kept to the vow he made to never socialize again after Oliver ditched him. Then he meets a cute girl at a coffee shop. Will the vow stand strong or immediately go down the drain?

Word Count: 3986

Rating: T (plenty of swearing, instances of misogyny, objectification of the female body, atrociously incorrect bagel eating, New York City slander, etc.)

Author's Note: yes, the title is the song by Expose. Also, I'm a corny writer.

Divider by @cafekitsune

“I don’t know or care what Oliver Quick is doing this summer,” Michael said, continuing to type on his laptop, not even making eye contact with whoever asked the question.  The guy who asked left without saying anything further.

Some random guy in the library asked Michael if it was true that Oliver was going to be spending the summer with Felix on his family’s estate.  It was more about prying into Felix’s business than him wanting to know anything about Oliver, Michael thought.  Oliver was not on the same level of being interesting (in the eyes of the general student populace) that the Cattons were.  

Michael didn’t give a shit that Oliver was going to fancy fucking Saltburn with his new, snobby, loser, nepo baby friends for the summer.  Really, he didn’t.  When Oliver humiliated him at the bar, he made the decision then to swear off any further socializing at the university.  It was the best thing he ever did.

Already, he felt less anxious.  He had more time to focus on his coursework.  More time to read new books, attend off campus lectures.  Walks in the park by himself were quite relaxing when he didn’t have to think about topics to keep a stilted, dying conversation going.  He even went so far as to set aside time to play video games again.  Every weekend, for one hour and a half, he lost himself in Fable on his Xbox.  

Michael still felt the sting of the bar betrayal from time to time, as he thought he had finally found a true friend in Oliver (or at least, the potential for him to become one).  The new, lone path taken had helped him realize that he was not the problem.  Oliver was just an asshole, like the majority of those who went to Oxford.  

Sometimes Michael wondered why people didn’t like him.  Must be how smart he was.   There was nothing weird about being good at math.  What was so awful about being good at math, anyway?  He guessed that most peoples’ biggest issue with his smarts was that it reminded them they were stupid. Oh well!  Plenty of time for activities by himself now.

One of those activities was fast became his favorite, after only his fourth visit.  Visiting a little coffee shop he had discovered near the river, he was able to “mingle” among people without having to talk to anyone. No one would bother him here and he would still get his dose of human contact which, after all, was vital to the psychological constitution of a person.  As rigid as he intended on being with his new No Socializing At Oxford vows, Michael did not intend on becoming a psychopath.  Besides, the baristas never got his order wrong. They never talked to him beyond the perfunctory taking of his order but after the third time, when he walked in, instead of asking what he would like the person at the register had asked “The usual?” and Michael would just say yes, thank you, and then pay.

Michael packed up his laptop, shoving it and the charger into his reusable Tescoe bag along with his notebooks. He stood and adjusted his sweater, checked all his pant pockets were buttoned up and zipped closed.  He kept his visits only to every other day so as to not have the monotony grate on his nerves. The coffee shop made fresh bagels every day, however, and he had been looking forward to enjoying one all morning (his favorite was blueberry).  He liked to eat his a certain way, scooping out the insides of each slice before finally eating the hollowed out crusts.  Someone at school would surely have an opinion about his bagel-eating method (not that he cared) but at the coffee shop, Michael was left in peace.

 Walking briskly through the library doors and outside in the crisp spring air, he didn’t even look in direction of Oliver walking up the steps into the library with Felix.  They were laughing about something but Michael didn’t even breathe in their direction.

—---------

The delicious smell of bread baking hit him in a wave as he stepped into the coffee shop.  It looked like a rush had just hit, the baristas busy cleaning and restocking various items.  

“Hi! I’ll take your order right over here.” came the chipper voice.  Michael turned.

Oh god, a new hire. An American one (he was pretty sure the accent he heard was American) Maybe he wasn’t entitled to feel irritated about changes in the store, it's not like he owned the damn thing, but Michael felt irritated just the same.  This was HIS spot and someone new had just invaded it.

The new girl had long hair parted in the middle, tied back in a bun.  The hair was turquoise. A very bright turquoise, almost neon, he would say.  It pissed him off even more. Dyed hair was so fucking tacky.

He trudged to the register, hating every second of anticipating having to deal with someone new, someone chatty, even for something as impersonal as coffee.  

The girl was almost as tall as he was, eye-level to him, smiling the fakest fucking smile he had ever seen.  I mean, it had to be fake.  Who looked this happy to be taking a stranger’s order? He didn’t even bother attempting to smile back.  Whatever.  Get my coffee, bitch Michael though.

“I’ll have a large vanilla coffee, sugar free, with a blueberry bagel.” 

“Ah, so just cutting back on the sugar but can’t quite quit it altogether, eh?” the girl said with a wink and another smile, totally unperturbed by his attitude.

Michael pursed his lips and said nothing.  The girl, still unbothered, looked down and clacked away on the touch screen.  He quickly looked over her in the few seconds she imputed his order.  

She had long, acrylic nails, painted a pastel kind of purple.  Her name tag said Cat, which he guessed was short for Catherine.  Maybe.  Also her boobs were big.  Not normal big, but stripper big.  Not that he would know, but still.  Too big for the word “boobs”, for sure.  Tits seemed like a more appropriate word.  If he had ever been to a strip club he was pretty damn sure stripper tits would look exactly like hers.  And she had tattoos covering the entirety of her left arm.  Classy, he thought condescendingly. No wonder she was working here instead of somewhere like a bank.

Michael wondered if she had tattoos on her chest as well…he was so sure he could avert his gaze before she noticed but suddenly her fingers snapped and her head lowered into his line of vision, a smug look on her face.  Small wisps of hair hung in front of her ears, he noticed.

“You lose something. buddy?” she asked.  

“I didn’t mean-I was just looking at your name tag.” he sputtered, fidgeting with a cuff of his sweater.  

“Look, it's fine. They’re tits.” 

Michael flinched slightly at her casual use of the word.  It was one thing to talk like that with other guys, but girls? What was she trying to prove?  Tits tits tits. He made a point to stare straight into her eyes and not look away while she continued to speak. “Its not a big deal, I promise,” she said, finishing up his order on the register and offering her hand to take payment. 

Choosing not to respond, Michael set his Tesco bag on the counter so he could unzip one of his pockets to get at his credit card.  The pocket it was in was hard to open and the zipper always caught, so two hands were needed.  

“You can look, you know,  just don’t be creepy about it.” she continued, as he struggled slightly with the pocket.  

Michael did not look at her as he handed over the card. 

Being branded a “creep” was the last thing Michael needed.  He was already the Lonely Nerd at university, he really did not want to become the Creepy Lonely Nerd (that ogles stranger’s tits).  Not that he would give a shit what people thought, but one less socially crippling label was better than one more.

“I mean, it’s not like I can leave them at home, right?  I don’t mind a little look here and there!” she said with a laugh, handing back his card. Unbelievable.  She was still talking about her tits! 

“Can I get that to go?” Michael answered more than asked.  

“Sure thing. Uh, what’s your name?”

“I’m Michael.” He was not staying here. He was not going to stay and become the Creepy Tit Guy.  Given her outgoing nature, Cat would probably have something to say about the way he ate his bagel, too, he was sure of it.  He would become Creepy Tit And Weirdo Bagel Eating Method Guy if he stayed. Maybe dealing with this at university would have been easier but this was supposed to be his relaxation spot. The coffee shop was ruined for him now, he would never come back.  Ever.  Fuck this place and fuck her.

“Alrighty, dude. Be right back!” 

“My name is not…dude..” Michael stepped away from the register, his voice fading away to nothing as Cat got his order ready, unable to hear him.  There was no one else coming in right now, it seemed he came during a lull. The other employees were still cleaning and restocking. 

“Here you go!” Cat said with a smile, handing him his bagel in a paper wrap and his coffee. 

Still not looking at her, he took his bagel and his coffee and got the fuck out of there, practically powerwalking away. 

 It was only until he made it to a nearby park bench that he finally saw what Cat had written on the other side of his bagel wrapper.  A whole paragraph, practically.  Michael, sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I was just trying to be funny, I swear.  Enjoy your coffee.  Hope you come back! 

Michael felt relief for a moment, before loudly groaning and spilling some of his coffee as he made to slap his forehead with that same hand.  He had left his fucking Tescoe bag at the coffee shop.  His bag that had his computer, his notebooks, his finished papers for a couple of classes. 

He had to go back.  Fuck.

“Yeah, sorry, but she said she knew you.”

Michael swore. The cashier informed him that Cat had just left, her shift was over.  She had taken the bag with her to the Oxford library.  Apparently, she was a student there?  Who fucking knew!?

“You need me to call the police?”

“No, that’s all right, I do know her.”  Michael lied.  “I told her earlier I’d be headed to the library later.  She probably figures she can catch me there.”  Without a single, civil ‘thank you’, Michael practically fled the shop.

He didn’t care how dumb it looked that he was frantically looking everywhere in the library for the familiar, turquoise hair.  People always looked at him funny.  It’s not like he could go to each of them individually and ask them hey could you please stop snidely whispering every time you look in my direction? Old Michael would go back to his dorm, have a cry, wonder why no one liked him and then quickly finish his homework in his dungeon of a bedroom before crying some more and then going to sleep.

New Michael didn’t give a shit.  New Michael was focused 100 percent on his academics and self-care, and right now his academics were in jeopardy because that Tesco bag held papers he had yet to type (Michael liked to hand write his work first, he felt it was more thorough). Also, maybe New Michael should better remember to not forget his shit at random shops.  Old Michael wouldn’t have forgotten. Whatever. 

After scanning the entire first floor of the library, he stomped to the second floor.  If she was a student here, how had he never seen her?  The hair would have been hard to miss.  Of course, it's not like he made it a habit to people watch anymore, especially in the library. 

Suddenly, he saw her.  Way in the corner, at a table right under a huge window, he saw her returning with her nose in a book from the shelves.  On the table, his bag.  

“Give it here.” Michael said, approaching the table.  Cat looked up from her book.

God, she was pretty.  He felt like a troll next to her.  It was so fucking unfair. More importantly though…why was he telling her to hand the bag back?  It was HIS.  He should just take it and go, without a word.  She had basically stolen it.  The girl was a thief and took it to give him a hard time because she was a bitch, like every other pretty girl he had ever interacted with and been cut down by. Maybe he could like her if he gave it a try…but the days of trying to get people to think he was cool or amazing were over.  She was a bitch and he knew it.

Mmm not what the note on your bagel showed, an annoying voice in his head began. That note could only have been written if she liked you because who would write that for a random customer?  You should talk to her an-  

Oh, fucking christ.  Old Michael.  Desperate-to-be-liked-by-someone-ANYONE Michael.  Shut the fuck up, Old Michael. You are dead.

“Yeah, no problem, I mean it is your bag!” Cat said cheerfully, closing her book and holding the bag out to him. “Sorry you had to run all this way to get it, Michael.”

“Um, it’s ok.  I run fast.” Michael said, immediately regretting it. God, that sounded so fucking stupid. He reached out for his bag.

Oh, so we’re no longer on that socializing ban, huh, Mr. Comedian?  I mean, what was THAT?!  Old Michael thought slyly. Shut up shut up shut up shut up!!!!! And, look!  She remembers your name! SHUT UP.

“-couldn’t just leave it there, you know?” Cat had finished saying.

Michael froze. “Huh?” 

What had she been talking about?  Shit. “Uh, why not?” Please let that be the right response.  Please let that be relevant to what she was fucking saying, Michael thought desperately. 

Cat rolled her eyes, but still sounded…not like a bitch?  “The laptop would definitely have been long gone if I hadn’t taken the bag.  I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Oh.  That was it.  That had been all she had said. Michael nodded and mumbled his thanks, ready to go…except Cat still held onto the bag. And stopped him with her next words.

“You play Fable a lot?”she asked.

It’s a trap.  She is going to make fun of you, he thought to himself.  Just get your shit and go. His hand was also still on HIS bag.  That she was not letting go of, for some reason.

“Yeah, I like it a lot.” 

Oh, how riveting.  That will make her swoon! Old Michael chimed in. 

“Really?” Cat responded.  Her tone wasn’t mocking.  It was…interested?  “I like it too but it feels unfinished, somehow.  I wish they would release Fallout 3 for these new consoles already, I bet it would be 1000 times better than this crap that Lionhead put out.”

Michael nodded.  She liked Fallout? She was impatient for the release?? Ask her to go with you to the midnight release next year!!! Ask her ask her ask her ask- No.  Shut up.  Be normal, for once in your life, be normal and chill about something. 

“-able doesn’t feel like it’s TRULY a good rpg, where you can do whatever you want, you know?  You can only go in one direction and can’t put off the main quest at all.”

She was still talking about Fable.  She was still talking about video games, something they both liked, something they had in common.

This is your chance, you know. Old Michael piped in.  Did any of those other people ever show even the slightest interest in the stuff you were into?  Ever? Ask her out!

“Ok,” Michael began. “I see your point, but the mechanics of the game aren’t the star so much as the incredible story and character designs-” 

While he continued to go on a tangent of Fable’s good qualities to Cat, trying his best not to sound too rant-y, Michael frantically gave the idea of asking her out some thought…

What if she said no? Hm what if she says yes? 

It’s stupid. The release for Fallout 3 is next year.  No, not even.  It’s October of that year, so…over a year away!  Almost two fucking years! What kind of weirdo would ask someone on a date almost two years from now?! Plus, she isn’t even into me.  She just likes video games, like any other person.  

Why is she still holding onto your bag, then? Old Michael thought smugly.  Why did she write that little note on your bagel? Why did she remember your name? Why-

All right, all right.  

“Right, so…want to come? To the midnight release for it?  For Fallout 3?” Michael asked, throwing all caution to the wind and swallowing his preemptive rejection rage that already was bubbling up.

“For Fallout?” Cat said, still holding onto the bag. “Which store you going to?” 

“Target.” Please say yes.  I don’t even know you and I know it’s weird to ask you somewhere practically two years from now but PLEASE SAy YES, Michael thought.

“Mm, nah.” Cat, said, letting go of the bag to dig in her bookbag.

Shit. 

Michael’s chest began to hurt, the hand holding his bag falling limply to his side.  He could feel his eyes begin to water.  She was just like the rest of them. Pathetic.  So pathe-

“You should come with me to Game on Queen Street, they always price cut!” Cat said, whipping out her blackberry. “Whatever price we show them for the game, they’ll shave 5 off it!  I mean, it’s not much but I’ll take what I can get! Here, put your number in.”

On sheer autopilot, Michael put his number in.  He felt ashamed the entire time, having choked back a scathing insult at the last minute before Cat had shoved her phone at him.

“Are you ok?” Cat took her phone back, eyeing him with a concerned look.

“I’m fine! It’s just-probably something I caught the other day, I can already feel the sniffles coming on and whatnot.  It’s nothing!” Michael babbled.

It cannot be this easy, Michael thought.  It’s been this easy the entire time?  Hanging out with a girl?  Talking to her?  Making plans?  Why did Oliver never like him when they had so much in common?

Holy shit, forget about fucking Oliver! You have a date with your future wife! Old Michael practically screeched. Jesus fucking Christ, you are desperate. Shut the fuck up!! Be Normal!

“You wanna go back to the shop and get another bagel?” Cat asked, putting her books away and sliding on her bookbag. “ We could use my discount, that way-”

“Yeah, let's go.” Michael cut in.  Grabbing her wrist and not waiting for her answer, he turned and began to swiftly move through the library.  He tried not to get excited as Cat uttered a quick ‘cool’ and kept pace with him.  

He also tried not to think about how awkwardly he was holding her hand. Everyone in the library was staring, he saw it in his peripheral.   It had looked so cool in his brain but now everyone could see how his stupid hand around her wrist slightly resembled him holding his limp-no no no no noooo shut up shut up SHUT UP. 

“Blueberry runs out quick.” Michael said, as they both briskly walked.   “I went one time at around this hour instead of my usual time and I had to settle for onion, which is gross as shit.” You’re rambling, Old Michael chided.  She fucking works there, she doesn’t need a play-by-play of bagel supply issues. Let her say something, idiot!  The reason he never noticed her before, it turned out, was that she hadn’t dyed her hair yet.  Cat also began to tell him about her history degree.  Something about the American Gilded age and how she was deep into research of the British Astors or something.  Michael surprisingly found himself not bored.  Were her eyes fucking green?  Oh, fuck, they were green!

They finally saw the shop in the distance.  Right after his anti-onion bagel tirade and her talk of her studies, he set straight into a long-winded verbal onslaught on the statistics of how rare green eyes were.  Micheal thought his heart would fall out of his asshole when Cat adjusted their hands so her fingers were laced with his.  About halfway through the distance, he had cut in when she mentioned her favorite bagel flavor (pineapple) and talked her ear off the rest of the way about his bagel eating method, insisting on its practicality but really prepping her so that she wouldn’t be horrified when she saw him do it and ditch him like fucking Oliver.  She laughed. 

“That’s so L.A. of you.  New York would hate your fucking guts, though.” she said, with a grin.   “Good thing I’m a California girl!  I’d rather deal with horrible traffic and scooped bagels than having to fight rats for sidewalk space.”

Right before they got to the doors, Michael went for it.  “I’m telling people that you’re my girlfriend.”, he said seriously.  She hadn’t run off when he had taken her hand (wrist).  She had noticed the Fable stickers on his computer.  She had remembered his name after one interaction. The American thing was a slight issue but hey, no one was perfect! 

“Cool, because I already told the staff that you were my boyfriend when I took your bag!” Cat responded. “I told them you like to pretend you don’t know me when you get mad and I just play along to pacify you.  It was the only way they were comfortable letting me take your bag!”

Be cool!  Do not fucking freak out! Act fucking normal! Do NOT scare her away! Say something a fucking weirdo would never in a million years say! Old Michael reminded him.

“Let’s go back to my place after and study some calculus.  Your grades in that sound horrendous.” Fucccccck.  You just got yourself a girlfriend and this is the shit you respond with?! Old Michael panicked. 

Cat smirked. “Only if you promise to fuck me into your mattress after.”

Michael stared at her, almost daring her to say she was kidding.  When she didn’t and her gaze briefly dropped to his lips, he abandoned any doubts he had and turned to walk away from the shop, practically dragging Cat with him.  

Cat giggled and adjusted herself to clutch at his arm with both hands, her legs and his in perfect sync as they made their way to Michael’s room.

—------------

“What the fuck?” Felix said to Oliver, pointing. Both were sitting on a bench, relaxing a bit before their next class.

 “Didn’t he go fucking mental at you the first day? Not to be a dick or anything but is she safe with that guy?”  

Oliver followed Felix’s finger and froze.  

He gaped at what he saw:

Michael fucking Gavey, math genius slash freak of nature, walking happily with the pretty American girl who had said no to their bar hopping invite just last week.  It was definitely surprising, but Oliver was now more determined than ever.  If a fucking social reject like Gavey could get what he was after, then someone like himself was sure to have the same luck if he continued to put in the effort.

THE END

[lumenflowered]

[A video is attached.

"Fuck," Maria says, quietly.

She stares at the cage. The Lugia inside is breathing. Possibly asleep, given the lack of acknowledgment.

"Yeah, I'm with you on that one," Mallory mutters. "Probably for slightly different reasons. The last ocean god's kid I had to deal with was awful to fight. Doesn't look like we're fighting this one."

"I sincerely," Maria says shakily, "hope not. We just have to get them out. Ideally without... you can teleport things."

"That I'm in contact with, and also me."

Maria lets out a haggard sigh. Carefully, very carefully, she approaches the cage. "Once Silver cuts the power—"

As if on cue, the lights in the room—the manmade ones, at least—all go out. Mallory's still glowing a bit, though. And so are Maria's eyes, when she glances back in the direction of the camera.

...It takes a bit for the camera to adjust fully, but there is still light coming from somewhere high above. More natural light. Enough to see, at least, if not all that well.

"I think you should do this," Maria says, looking back at Mallory.

"I don't," Mallory says. "You're kinder than you think. I'm not. And also I think I'd scare them a lot more."

Maria breathes in, breathes out, and curtly nods. She reaches the cage, still metal, and reaches out a hand to touch one of the bars.

No electricity. Not anymore. But the Lugia jerks awake as soon as she does, scrabbling to get away from her with wide eyes.

They're muzzled, too. Of course they are. Team Rocket spared no expense.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Maria says in a shaky voice. "I swear that on my life. I'm... the other Lugia, is that your parent?"

This one looks at her, eyes still wide in terror. They don't move.

"Team Rocket is trying to use you against her," Maria says quietly. "And succeeding, currently, which is... very bad. For everyone. But the bars aren't electrified anymore, they will not hurt you anymore—see?"

She pulls off one glove, revealing a shaking hand, and grasps one of the bars, solidly, for several seconds.

The Lugia watches this, silent.

"Do you know Ho-oh?" Maria asks. "Or... well, I suppose you couldn't know Ho-oh or they would have said something about you, I suppose... I suppose you must be a secret from... everyone..."

"Well, yeah," Mallory mutters under her breath, far closer to the camera. "Gods in this world don't just have kids. Even if it's not a Great One situation. How did he even..."

"Do you know of Ho-oh?"

Slowly, very slowly, the little Lugia nods.

"They are a friend of mine," Maria says, "though I... I cannot understand why, at times. But they are. You being trapped here means that the humans that trapped you here can force your parent to do terrible things, or else they will harm you more—Ho-oh knew that your parent wouldn't have worked with them willingly, and they were right. They..."

Maria inhales sharply and raises a hand to wipe at her eyes.

"I'm very sorry," Maria says, a little too calmly, "if I seem afraid of you. I am. Very much. But that matters far less than the harm that Team Rocket is doing do you, the harm that I cannot allow to happen again, here or—or anywhere else. And it has nothing to do with you, I promise. Whatever my personal feelings, you deserve better, and you are going to get out of here. Do you understand?"

The Lugia makes no sound. They do, however, slowly and awkwardly hop closer to where Maria is. To within her reach.

"If... you'll allow me," Maria says, "I can undo your bonds."

The little Lugia considers this. They blink at her, very slowly, and then—when she reaches a hand closer—they bonk it gently through the bars.

Maria visibly shudders at the touch.

The video ends.]

[yoki-doki-then]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Halcyon

"There's too many bloody kids running around."

"Well, of course there are. It's Little Lady's Day."

A maid and butler take a reprieve by one of Ul'dah's larger fountains, seated on its edge. Nearby, their charge, a young lady as Lalafell as them, shows off her newest accessory to a gaggle of her peers. It's a tiara that's far too shiny, most of the appeal being given from glitter and a glossy varnish over cheap metal, but it delights the young ones regardless. For their elders? Gods, it's hard to look at. The sun just seems to hit all its sharp edges in a way designed to blind you.

So the maid continues to whine. "That headpiece is five times what it should cost. Frankly, I could get an authentic tiara for the same. And there's too many perfumes in the air; I can barely breathe! I swear, L-L-D is just an excuse for merchants to prey on everyone who wants to be a princess. I can't tell if Yoki smells of wood, of berry, of ocean, or of flower at this stage. I get hit with every sample she's indulged whenever we pass her."

"Mmm, it makes your sister happy, Toto," says the butler, Aiaika.

Totolili groans as he lays his head on his partner-in-servitude's lap, hoping to feel some of the fountain's succor on his brow. What was meant to be a fun bit of gender-roleplay turned out to be an exercise in finding out just how heavy a petticoat could be. How fragile an untrained gait could be in pumps. How suffocating a collar secured with a bow could be. And every time he tried to adjust this frilly uniform, his beloved was there to swat his hand, as he's no doubt sure hers was swatted when she trained for the job he's been playing at taking.

"Aika. I'm sorry. I need to shut my eyes for a spell. Just keep an eye on Yoki for a minute."

He feels his nose being flicked. "A maid doesn't relinquish her duties, nor a butler for that matter. There are less than human. They are as reliable as furniture." He hears the smile creep into her voice. "Though, a creaking chair does deserve Byregot's tender touch for doing its duty so well."

Toto shoots up, sitting perfectly, hands on his lap. "Yes, sir," he says, doing his best to mimic Aika's normal tone, but can't help but let a mix of way too many feelings on the suggestion turn it into a squeak. She scoots closer to him, and their fingers entwine at their sides, hidden from their charge's sight under the many, many folds of his skirt.

"... I wish I was more a part of her world, sometimes," Toto quietly says, leaning into his woman.

"Well, you could hardly be blamed. More than a decade between you."

"She spent so much time growing up bedridden. Some days I hoped she'd just fade away, finally. Mom and dad spent so much time at her side. I liked to tell myself it was for her sake that I wanted her pain to end, but I was a teenager, I know that I..."

"Everyone has dark thoughts. Good people don't indulge in them."

He sighs, hand reaching over to hold her arm. "Please never coddle me."

"I don't, and I won't."

"I just don't feel like a brother to her. I am. I try. But how do I relate? There's no shared struggle. I think a four-year difference could mean it'd be all right for me to bully her in a sport of some sort, but as many as we have? That's just cruel. It's like having to step back down the ladder of life to play pretend. I'm always wearing a mask around her. It's a happy one. But it is a mask. And I don't think I'll ever take it off."

Aika's fingers weave through his hair, which is long enough that his headdress looks more fitting than she's sure Toto would enjoy. The pads of her fingers weave circles against his scalp, the gentle rustling filling his ears, her thumbs giving the slightest pressure to his temple. "You wore a mask around me when we first met. Are you still wearing it now?"

"... No," Toto says. "I suppose not."

"You don't feel like you need to turn your nose up every time you saw me in the halls?"

"If I didn't, I would have stared."

It's Aika's turn to be quiet. She finds a hand reaching up to her head, coiling her unnaturally colored bob around an index. "... Hush, you," she says, before silencing him with what was meant to be a short kiss. But when Toto sinks back into her, it goes on. It goes on beyond what anyone should see in public. Nothing as sloppy as what desperate teens would do, but it's such a kiss of love that it makes people question their own lot in life. The kind of kiss where time freezes, because the world itself wants to watch.

"What're you doing?" asks their princess, a part of the world.

"G-guh!" says Toto, pulling back sharply. He looks at his little sister with wide eyes, their matching red orbs locking as he sees the princess in an outfit so layered it makes his maid uniform look positively breezy. Her hair is pulled up into two immaculately braided buns, jewels woven in their securing bands. "N-Nothing. Just..."

"My lady," starts Aika. "Your lordly brother was worried his breath would smell. I was inspecting."

"Hehe, bad breath."

"I do no-" Totolili realizes the peril of stockings, as they provide no protection from a silencing stomp. "I do."

"Can we go see the Songstress? I think she's performing soon?"

Yoki's maid and butler look at one another with a smile. They give one hidden squeeze with their entwined hands, and rise with palms demurely against their laps. A curtsey, a bow. Toto, of course, stumbles through the more complicated gesture.

"Okay!" Yoki says. "This way!" Somehow, she makes an eager jog look cute, and her charges call her name in their chase.

[annyankers]

hi train! you're sucking me back into your lore too (it's soooo good and i'm invested) so tell me more about your version of darla?

dkfghkls Sorry this took a bit to get to I've been in the Pit with some other stuff that kept making me forget this was in my inbox rip

LET'S TALK DARLAAAAAAAAAAA [AIR HORNS]

Darla My Beloved, My One, My Only. My changes to Darla are honestly super minimal on like, a base level. I love Julie in the role and I think she builds a truly Iconic Character.

Mainly my thing is that it's Fucking Dumb And Stupid that she dies. In one s6 btvs/ats crossover/combination fanfic I swear to the GODS I'll finish plotting and writing I use an oc to help make sure she survives the pregnancy but honestly I don't care how you do it. She Just Does.

I like to keep Connor and her pregnancy because I think it creates a really interesting and unique conflict for Darla that plays well with her utterly heartless and self-centered character. Sharing Connor's soul is the second brush she's had having with one in under a year after 400 years without one. That's super duper fun and interesting to work with. It's fun to have her be conflicted about still being a heartless bitch and maybe caring for at least 1 (one) person just on the principle that they're helpless and cannot survive without someone who cares.

I don't really like the idea of "motherhood makes her better" because that's uhhhhh.... that can be ummm....... but I think there's something to be said for "jerkoff takes some responsibility for her actions and the lives of others". At the end of the day, Darla is still a vampire and still soulless but now she's got some Complex Feelings about stuff and also things. She's more in the Spike Zone of soullessness and how to deal with it in the face of doing shit like giving a fuck about people compared to Angel's whole vibe about the topic or the Master's -- which is her previous stance.

Connor is Her Baby, he's an extension of Her which is important to the douchey narcissist in her. Even after some brushes with having a soul I don't think she'd even CONSIDER a change of heart or just an adjustment to her lifestyle for anyone who's not somehow "Hers". Darla is about Darla before she's about anyone or anything else. Connor being From Her forcibly extends her circle of Self Interest and cracks open the Padora's Box of Possibly Giving A Shit About Others.

The things she felt while she shared his soul also have a big impact on her, she does care about him and his well being. Her stance on the rest of humanity's wellbeing? Less concerned lol. She's not interested necessarily in ~becoming a better person~ but she DOES realize she has to make some change, some life choices, and get better at covering some shit up because Connor WILL look to her as a role model as he grows up and she'd like to minimize the damage she does to him lol. Also recognizes she needs to make some lifestyle changes so that she's got more than just Drusilla helping her raise and protect Connor or WORST SCENARIO IF SHE DOESN'T-- have that asshole Angel STEAL HER SON FROM HER AND DENY HER ACCESS because she's "A Psychotic Heartless Murderer" or whatever dumb shit he's wanking about now. Loser.

She's TRULY the Vegeta or the Hiei she IS the Regina George and you DO have to bribe her into helping. She's a barely domesticated villain she's only here because all these numb nut goody two shoes can't muster up the spine to say no when she asks them to babysit. She and Spike actually end up having much more familial relationship because they're both working through all this Weird Shit about being vampires with no soul who're also grappling with doing weak ass pansy nice guy shit like losers but also it's weirdly fulfilling??? tf???? Since when tf did they like kids-- and not just as dinner??? what happened here???

She's fond of Cordelia because she's Mean, they bully Angel for sport. She and Buffy probably end up with a weird chilled out vibe eventually as two very sexy narrative foils of each other. Shadow selves Baybee. Darla and Anya would be ride or die let's just be real about that they're both unhinged. Illyria is the only person Darla is afraid of lol. Darla and Angel have the most CURSED on and off again sex relationship that torments everyone around them.

Basically Darla is the Cassandra Truth in a lot of ways for ATS. She's the Greek Chorus pointing out all the flaws and issues with Angel's dumbass plans and how X is a trap and OBVIOUSLY So-And-So is upset you ninny. She doesn't listen any of them she's the oldest person in the room she's not taking orders from CHILDREN. Angel is 100000x more competent with her around, it's almost like she was always the brains of the operation lol. Basically she and Drusilla are the muppet critics who're also raising a baby and sometimes help fight crime but only because if they don't they'll have to pay rent.

[iviarellereads]

Fugitive Telemetry, Chapter 4

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Murderbot Diaries, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which I was right!

Ratthi asks if they should call StatSec for help.(1) The transport wants to let Murderbot in, but can't open the lock. MB, trying to force it open via the feed, says StatSec told it they didn't need its help. Ratthi asks exactly what they said, and MB quotes from a memory file. Gurathin wonders if it's being passive-aggressive or willfully obtuse. MB would be more upset except that he's right, and he's not stopped blocking the nearest port authority camera.

MB offers that the transport wants it to come in, and if the door's jammed, it could be a maintenance issue, which would fall under Port Authority jurisdiction, not Station Security. Gurathin says it sounds like Pin-Lee. Ratthi says Pin-Lee's worse, and would be swearing by now. As he's observing that MB and Pin-Lee swear alike,(2) MB finally gets the hatch open.

Gurathin obligingly moves out of the port camera view, so that MB can demonstrate that the door is not damaged, and was opened from inside (ish), so they should have a few minutes to snoop before Port or StatSec show up. Ratthi asks if anyone's aboard, and MB can't be sure, though the transport reported being human-less.

Inside, they smell something wretched, as if the air filtration needs maintenance. They find suspicious stinky stains, as well as a simple blue travel bag. Gurathin wonders if someone was sick, but MB makes a note to tell him to get his visual augments adjusted, as Ratthi says someone was dead, and asks if they call StatSec now. MB finally agrees to that.

It takes StatSec seven minutes to arrive, during which time MB takes plenty of images and scans of the transport.(3) They proceed with their investigation, and the Port Authority bring in techs to help repair the transport. MB isn't quite surprised to learn this is a free service by Preservation, but remarks how in the Rim, the ship would sit idle, racking up fines and fees until its owner or a rep arrived to arrange repairs.

Gurathin suggests leaving, but Ratthi and MB want to stay, so he stays in slightly uncomfortable solidarity. Indah and Tural show up a while in, and Indah says she read MB's report identifying Lutran, they received the body scan results soon after to confirm it, but asks how it knew Lutran was a passenger on this ship.

Ratthi had shifted from acting defensive to acting like this was a meeting we were all having. He said, “So it was him who was killed in there, then? The person who was found?” Tural said, “Unless it was spoofed, there was a DNA match. Spoofing isn’t unlikely, but in this case—” Indah glared at Tural and they shut up.(4)

MB clarifies that the transport identified him, but was unable to report the incident to the PortAuth with its damaged systems. Indah, skeptical, asks how MB knew it was this particular transport. MB says it didn't, it was checking ALL the transports, hence why it took so long.

Officer Aylen, the one who'd showed up first, asks if MB had anything to do with it. MB gets pissed, but then realizes Aylen thinks Lutran was from GrayCris, and MB might have killed him privately and now be trying to obfuscate the investigation. This, MB can't be angry at, because it knows it didn't do it but the assumption is perfectly logical.

MB's reponse is to say it would have made the death look accidental, or disposed of the body so it wouldn't be found. Indah asks how it would dispose of such a body, but MB says if it told, she might find the bodies it's disposed of. Ratthi cuts in VERY fast to say it's joking, while Gurathin sighs, regretting some life choices, and tells MB it should show them where it was during the murder interval.

It realizes it might have gone too far, since a human might get away with that line but a SecUnit would absolutely raise more suspicion with it,(5) and that now if it DOES have to kill some GrayCris agents, it's going to have to be very careful with the bodies afterward.(6) So, MB clips the video from its drone archive and shares it with Indah and Aylen.

Indah sighs, and tells Aylen to continue. Aylen says she had to ask, because of another clip, which she shows MB. It shows Lutran going up to the transport, entering, and then nothing. No one else was inside before, according to records, and nobody entered after, and yet Lutran was murdered and his body moved.

MB thinks how this is even more seamless than when it redacts itself in active memory in camera systems. Its organic bits get goosebumps at the thought it could be another SecUnit, or worse, a CombatUnit.

Aylen says she knows from reports on Mensah's rescue that MB can do something similar. It says yes, but only under certain circumstances, and asks if the StatSec system is compromised. Indah says there's no indication PortAuth or StatSec were hacked, so it seems like a jamming device. MB says it doesn't know of anything that could do that, and it's very unlikely such a tool would be available in the CorpRim, since they live and die by their surveillance.

MB asks if they did the same when the body was removed, but no. Aylen sends another clip which just shows a delivery cart arriving, then leaving seven minutes later, with no apparent human involvement. She says they're looking for the cart, but it's likely been sterilized, since they know the murderer had access to a cleaning field.

Gurathin asks why they didn't clean the transport, and MB suggests they thought they'd have more time to come back and do it.

Indah makes a thoughtful noise, though Aylen still looks like she suspects something of MB. Indah asks what the next step is, and Aylen says she's going to speak to the ship that was due to bring this transport's next cargo. She calls it an "outsystem ship", so MB knows it's non-corporate. Indah tells Aylen to take MB, which surprises them both.(7)

=====

(1) Sweet Ratthi, never had reason to learn that the cops aren't always the best tool for the job. (2) I don't know if I follow Ratthi's guess that Murderbot learned to cuss from Pin-Lee. There are slightly fewer cusses in the earlier books, I think, but I'd have to grab a bigger sample size of instances where each of them cuss to start doing any sort of comparative analysis. Has anyone done this yet elsewhere? (3) Very clever, take advantage of every second to gather your own data pre-contamination. (4) You know, I think we'd like Tural a lot, given a bit of time and better circumstances to get to know them. (5) Which is very discriminatory and biased but y'know, you play the hand you're dealt not the one you want. (6) Not that MB has ever shown much desire to kill people, besides the RaviHyral blackmail incident. (7) On the one hand, I'm sure Indah knows the value of "keep your enemies closer". Also, if MB is getting itself involved in the trouble anyway, it might speed things up to just let it participate instead of going off on its own and doubling the work. Plus, she can't deny it found the murder site faster than her team did. So, I'm not all that surprised at all.

[margridarnauds]

XVI. The Tower and XXII. The Fool please!

Thanks!

XVI. The Tower: Do you easily change your opinion on matters? What makes you lose faith in other people? Is there anything, or anyone you feel safe with?

Do you easily change your opinion on matters?

I don’t really think I change my opinion TOO much, at its base, if that makes any sense? When I’m around people, I do find myself molding myself into what the conversation requires, or at least shutting myself up unless it’s something that I find truly deplorable/can back up easily, but I think it takes a lot for my own personal opinion to change. Except for that one day or so when I woke up a conservative Methodist and went to bed as a liberal (alright I was “libertarian” but that went down the drain fast) atheist. That was a fun time. In my research, I try to keep an open mind, but I’ll own to my own confirmation bias. I can say “This is a good paper, you make good arguments,” but…do I fully accept it in my mind? No. But also I tend to see things more in shades of gray to a potentially annoying extent as it is, so when I change my opinion, it’s…not necessarily a matter of saying “This thing has some bad points” it’s “This thing’s bad points now outweigh its good points in my mind.” Part of why I ultimately chose lit over history as my focus was that I like that there’s not really a press for an Ultimate Truth in lit, in the sense that everything’s much more open to interpretation, whereas history tends to pressure more for definite ARGUMENTS. 

What makes you lose faith in other people?

It’s odd, because losing faith in people, for me, is rarely a matter of ONE single thing. I try to give people second and third chances, I tend to brush off that little niggling, “Something’s not right here” feeling, etc. So, when I finally lose faith, it’s a Big Thing, but it’s also not one that I can solidly put down to a single thing, which also makes it very hard when I’m trying to build a timeline in my head. Betrayal, lies, cruelty (though I do TRY to understand that people can have bad days, but…it doesn’t ERASE it, you know?), willful ignorance, finding out that they support things that I find personally deplorable, all the things that you’d really expect. 

(Funny story there: For ages I didn’t get crushes. Not one. Then, I got a strange…thing on a guy in my German class. Not a straight-up crush, but I LIKED him in a way that was slightly more than platonic. And I was like, “Okay, I’m bi instead of ace after all.” Then, I found out he supported Trump and he made some insanely transphobic and biphobic comments under the guise of “debate” because he was That Guy. /Crush, and that was basically the last time I got a crush on a guy. My brain just went “nein.”) 

It’s also really, really hard if I’d previously really trusted and looked up to someone and that happens. That’s really when I start wondering if there’s something wrong with *me* or if I’m over-exaggerating things to suit my own narrative. 

Is there anything, or anyone you feel safe with?

My dogs, my cats, my mom, for the most part, though she does have the little habit of telling my aunt things in the name of “family unity” when I had meant for it to be a personal matter. See: When I begged her not to tell my aunt I’m an atheist because my aunt is REALLY STAUNCHLY conservative, when I begged her not to tell her that I wanted to get out of the country because of the situation at home + politically, etc. 

Safety is a generally relative concept, anyway; I can trust that my mom and aunt won’t abandon me to be raised by wolves and will be there for me when I need them barring a huge catastrophe, I can trust that my mom can help me work through an anxiety attack and keep a solid 80% of my secrets, I can trust that my friends can handle my various eccentricities and questionable sense of humor, and I can trust that my dogs and cats will be with me no matter what because I’m the one who feeds them and gives them scritches. 

It’s all much less depressing than it sounds. 

XXII. The Fool: How much weight do you give to other people’s opinion? What is an adventure you were part of - or you wish you could be part of? Is there something you have an endless passion for? 

How much weight do you give to other people’s opinion?

I blame it on the bullying, but I have this odd…thing where I simultaneously have an “I don’t give a fuck” and “I give every fuck” attitude to people’s opinions. Like, on one hand, there’s probably not been a single feature of mine that’s not been ripped to pieces at some point. I mean, I had comics drawn of me having sex with my cats by my best friend at the time when I was 12 years old. It was a lovely, lovely period in my life. And, as a result, I think I developed a very self-deprecating sense of humor, as well as the idea that, well, I’ll be ripped to shreds no matter what, so I might as well express myself and damn the consequences. 

Well…that and being homeschooled for most of my high school years. It’s astonishing how much your opinions and interests can diverge if you’re not under the pressure to necessarily conform.  

But, at the same time, it also made me sensitive to personal criticism, as I have this idea that everyone hates me and is just being polite, that I’m really annoying, etc. One of the things that actually devastated me in college was reading teacher feedback, because even though I knew they were just trying to help me become a stronger academic, the thought that they might find me…wanting in some way stung. Especially when it was teachers that I really respected and looked up to. (Which, tbh, was all my teachers because I have a painful…thing when it comes to authority figures and trying to appease them and-Oh God I’m actually Peyrol minus the homicide, erratic temper, and questionable BDSM. That and our faculty was lovely.) I legit had to have my mom read the feedback, because I wanted to have it filtered and I was, like, worried one of them would say, “Rachel, you are a disgrace to the Humanities program and this school. This paper is shit. Goodbye” or something. 

I’Il often find myself softening my opinions or keeping silent if I feel like it could be dangerous, or if it might affect someone’s view of me, and I’m hyper-sensitive about, say, pauses in a conversation, because I’ll be like, “Oh, I’ve done it now.” And then in the next second, I’ll reblog, “FUCK OFF ANTIS” on my blog because, again, it’s a strange duality…thing with me. 

What is an adventure you were part of - or you wish you could be part of?

Oh, God, I’ve had some wild times. There’s the time that we were moving and ended up driving over a thousand miles overnight in a fifteen passenger van because we had 17 cats, two birds, and a bunny with us. And then had to travel BACK the next day because we had business to attend to back in our old place. 

OR the time that my late uncle lost his keys on a rollercoaster at Busch Gardens and so we ended up having to travel over three hours from where we live to rescue him, which is how we ended up meeting his boyfriend for the first time. 

OR the time that we picked up the youngest of our three dogs, Riley, when we ran into a curb less than ten minutes out, encountered various and assorted technical issues during the ~4 hours of the rest of the trip, and THEN when we were going back I had my hands nearly nibbled to death by an overeager puppy who was excited by the prospect of new friends. (This is how we met the nice old lady who gave me the money for the Toho 1789 + Riley is a sweet dog once he’s settled, so it was #WorthIt)

I really, really want to get out of the States, travel to different places around the world…see more musicals. Definitely see more musicals. I’m very aware of how limited my experience is, not having ever been out of my own country. (Unless you count briefly being over Canada when I was en route to Alaska, which I don’t.) I would love to go to Ireland and see some of the places mentioned in the various myths that I’ve read so much about, possibly embarrass myself by crying over Bres’ grave; I’d love to hit up the Tower of London or Versailles; go to either a Toho or Takarazuka musical in Japan (If and when my Japanese improves beyond「 アメリカ人です 」since I’d really rather be able to show my face in public). See snow again, maybe, since I do miss it.

 My old college offered study abroad trips to Oxford over the summer and I REALLY wanted to go, but, alas, it was insanely expensive + I wasn’t entirely sure about how much I would be able to enjoy myself if I had schoolwork to do, since I’d end up focusing on making that perfect rather than actually appreciating the trip. 

Alternatively: The Ghost Tour at Saint Augustine. I want to go on it SO MUCH. 

Is there something you have an endless passion for? 

Any of the musicals I’ve been lucky to get into (Especially. The one. You know the one. The one that I don’t even need to mention given that it consumes about 80% of my brain power at any given point), anything related to Irish Mythology, especially when it comes to my boy Bres, the French Revolution even though it also scares me because the scope of it’s so large and I never really feel like I make progress in it, female villainesses who can kill me and I would thank them (which is…a disturbingly large amount, actually). 

In general, I’m the type of person who develops special interests where I’ll become OBSESSIVE over learning everything I can about something and kind of latch onto it, so anything I’ve developed that for kind of goes here by default. 

And my dogs. Because they’re Good Bois (+ one Good Girl) and I honestly am not sure where I’d be atm without them. And my cats for tolerating my shit for this long. 

[whumpsday]

So we've got a time travel au now, but how about a body swap au? (Which somehow makes even less sense than time travel imo but shhhh don't worry about it)

I'm imagining captive Kane waking up in Jim's body, SO confused. He sees himself in the mirror and puts together what has happened. Despite the strange circumstances, he's relieved to be free of pain for the first time in so long but as he thinks about it he realizes, "if I'm here... then that must mean that Jim is...... oh no."

And Jim wakes up on a cold, hard floor, in a world of pain, and since he has no point of reference it takes him a moment to realize where he is and whose body he's in. And by that point the hunters would arrive to have their fun and Jim has to try to convince them that he's human. he swears. He's not supposed to be here!!

Would Kane try to find a way to save Jim? But how can he without contacting the hunters who tortured him? He'd be terrified.. He can't go home either, because he's not currently a vampire and would get eaten alive in vampire territory.

I have Kane and Jim AU brainrot rn (whumperstorm)

THIS IS GREAT. i have imagined "what if bodyswap au" before, but i've always imagined it in arc 3, present day. i've never even CONSIDERED a bodyswap during arc 2. this is genius.

oh, poor jim, the unluckiest man in the world.

kane would absolutely do everything in his power to save jim. the first problem would be finding him. kane doesn't know where the compound is. is prob able to find liz's phone number written down somewhere and call her for help. when liz first hears what kane has to say, she initially thinks jim is just having some kind of bizarre mental breakdown, but it becomes quickly apparent this is not the case. liz is horrified. immediately starts working on getting jim out of there, which is fairly easy for her to do. kane doesn’t even have to go. liz picks him up. kane is completely horrified to learn liz is a hunter, also. liz seeing kane in jim’s body recoil from her in fear makes her... really sad. she knows it’s kane, who she HATES WITH BURNING PASSION, but he just looks like jim.

jim is so incredibly confused and scared. he wakes up in an incredible amount of pain, and trying to explain himself just gets him hurt more. not to mention the fact that he’s unused to a vampire body, especially a starving vampire body. the sensation of total starvation is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. vampires also have much better senses than humans: the lights are too bright, the sounds are too loud, and he can smell everything. especially blood. jim isn’t used to having to restrain himself. gives into instinct and lunges at the first human he sees, and is punished severely with time in the sun for it, the worst pain he’s ever felt by a longshot.

liz manages to rescue him up pretty soon after this, and jim can’t even see or speak or move he’s so burnt. he can’t even really feed. liz pries his mouth open and drips as much of her own blood as she can into there. jim is clinging to her for dear life. liz is crying while assuring him “everything’s going to be okay, i’m here, i’ve got you.”

kane’s got... problems adjusting to being in a human body as well, despite how relieved he is to not be in pain- aside from the dull pain that never leaves his neck. he sees worse (can’t even see in the dark!), hears worse, and can barely smell anything. he’s still terrified of sunlight even though it won’t hurt him anymore. and humans have to eat so OFTEN. two or three times a day AND have to drink water. and so many options to pick from!!! he’s just glad he gets to eat again after years of starvation.

jim recovers within 2 days, being fed blood and all. once he’s brought back home, kane feeds him too. jim & liz keep kane. can’t exactly let him go running off in jim’s body, and kane’s too afraid to leave the house anyway. once jim is healed, the being-unused-to-body thing only gets worse. he’s so strong and so fast. keeps breaking things and running into walls. after that first day, he absolutely refuses to feed on liz. kane readily offers himself for feeding, teaches jim how to do it properly. this is the weirdest thing in the world to jim. feeding on kane in his own body.

a very interesting au indeed!

[peachyysugaa]

scream

― youtuber!park sunghoon x streamer!gn!reader

it's hard to stream horror video games when your neighbor is always filming dangerous mukbangs and screaming.

genre: e2l, neighbors au, angst to fluff, humor

wc: 3.2k

warnings: horror game mentions, cw food and mentions of cooking live things (inspired by this youtuber), sunghoon's a jerk at first :<, one mention of underage drinking (don't follow mc's example pls fisnfkskf), a few swear words

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the last upload! feel free to read on its own! ♞──────────────────────────♞

"AAAGH!" and there it is. your brows furrow upon hearing your neighbor's cry. does he not understand how thin these walls are?! there's a reason only college students stay here! grimacing, you ignore it and move your mouse to look around the dark house.

"oh shoot, i wonder if he's behind me?" you say to your audience while watching your viewers fill the chat with your custom subscriber emojis. "i'm going to do it, everyone, just―"

"OHMYGODOHMYGOD WHYYY?!"

more like why couldn't you be quiet?! you close your eyes in frustration but attempt to keep a straight face for the people watching you. "sorry if you heard that, i guess someone's having a bad day?" you chuckle nervously as you turn around in the video game to see a black slender figure. "oh! whoa, okay, i'm just going to run over here."

you got out of the creepy house and made it to the back of it to see a piece of paper on the wall. "oh, here! okay, this is going to be my last piece unless―whoa!!" the jumpscare comes up, and you're left taken aback as the game over screen appears. laughing at your shocked self, you're filled with glee upon seeing the audience laugh or scream with you. "that was really fun, everyone. i got some homework to do though, so i'll see you all next time i stream! bye bye!" you wave goodbye to the camera and watch as the viewer number drops gradually. after a few minutes, you shut off your stream, place your headphones on its stand, and push back in your secret labs chair with a sigh. "why did i have to live next to a maniac...?" you grumble.

you got out of the creepy house and made it to the back of it to see a piece of paper on the wall. "oh, here! okay, this is going to be my last piece unless―whoa!!" the jumpscare comes up, and you're left taken aback as the game over screen appears. laughing at your shocked self, you're filled with glee upon seeing the audience laugh or scream with you. "that was really fun, everyone. i got some homework to do though, so i'll see you all next time i stream! bye bye!" you wave goodbye to the camera and watch as the viewer number drops gradually. after a few minutes, you shut off your stream, place your headphones on its stand, and push back in your secret labs chair with a sigh. "why did i have to live next to a maniac...?" you grumble.

as if on cue, another scream is heard from the other side of the wall. "EEE! oh my god, i'm going to do it, i'm going to do it!"

what on earth was this kid doing that he was screaming every weekend? you didn't even scream that much, and you played horror games for a living! your stomach growls as you're thinking this and as a living human being, you listen to it and get up to make ramyeon. however, even as you're making your dinner and even as you're trying to enjoy it with some show playing on the tv, of course, you have to be subjected to your neighbor's loud yells. once you're finished, you notice how oddly quiet it is and decide to give whoever this guy was a piece of your mind.

marching over with your keys in hand, you knock aggressively on apartment no. 505 until it opens. behind the door is a tall male with a face so well-proportioned you're thinking it's possible that some being above sculpted it themselves. his nose is accented with one mole on the side of his nose bridge and another a few centimeters under the opposite eye. "can i help you?" his rich voice asks with a slight sting to it.

you snap yourself out of it by blinking, incredulous that you almost forgot your mission just because he has a handsome face. "yea, you can help me by being quieter," you boldly state with your arms crossed in front of your chest. "you realize you're not the only one living in this complex, right? the walls are so thin, i can hear you screaming every time."

the male raises an eyebrow at you and scoffs to the side as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "can you just deal with it? some of us have to make a living."

"news flash, dude, that's all of us! the only people who would be willing to live in this place are college students! listen, i stream horror games for my work, and i don't even scream as loud as you," you retort and point your index finger from you to him. "so i think you should learn how to keep your volume down."

"and why haven't i heard these complaints from anyone else?" he tries to debate back.

"maybe because they're just quietly tolerating you. as for me, i can't anymore, so take this as your first warning, room 505." you turn around quickly with a huff and speed to your apartment next door.

as you're above to close the door, you hear him shout back at you. "my name's park sunghoon, room 506. remember it, because i'm going to make your life a living hell."

"l/n y/n, park sunghoon. we'll see about that." with that, you both simultaneously shut your doors with a slam that causes the walls to shudder a bit.

oh, he kept his promise alright. from stare-downs in the hallway, to bringing weird live animals in the elevator at the same time you're in there, to snarky remarks at the entrance that almost always lead to fights, park sunghoon has definitely made your life hell. to make matters worse, his screaming got even louder. you're sure that's a violation of some rule, right? wrong, the management for the building doesn't care all too much, as long as he's not doing anything illegal and nobody else has complained. you get what you paid for is the right saying here.

you were not having it. as a streamer and college student, weekends are your days with the freest time, and he took that from you. you found out that he was not just a college student but a youtuber, one that filmed dangerous mukbangs with live animals that he would then cook and eat, and because of that, he had also chosen to film on weekends. that was exactly why you had always encountered his screaming on days you were streaming, and now, tired of how petty he was, you decided to just cram your weekdays with school and streaming.

at first, it was fine, but as your days became packed with more studying on the weekends at the library to avoid sunghoon, you grew tired: tired of the crammed weekdays and for god's sake, tired of living your life running away. taking out a bottle of peach soju that your upperclassman dancer friend had snuck for you, you pop it open and make your way to the balcony that you barely used.

as you take a swig of the alcoholic beverage, you prop yourself onto the railing and gaze at the buildings before you, their lights blinding you from the stars of the night sky. maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's your low energy state, but something compels you to scream. "i'm so tired!!" you yell out to the skyline. letting out a sigh, you plop down into the spare plastic chair and go for another drink.

"drinking your worries away? that's not going to solve anything," a male voice speaks up. your eyes catch sight of sunghoon, who has slid open his own balcony door. he's dressed in a casual beige hoodie and sweats as if he had spent the day just relaxing.

"as if you care," you mumble with your lips pressed against the green glass. "you're literally at the root of all my problems."

he scoffs at your statement. "this again? look, i'm getting tired of you placing all this blame on me when i'm—"

"are you so sure about that?" you calmly and sternly interrupt. the alcohol really has unlocked your usually inhibited thoughts. "why did i move my streaming days onto the weekdays when i normally spend them studying? because your screaming on the weekends always got picked up by my mic. why do i get 4 hours of sleep every day and study all night at the library on weekends?" it's like when sunghoon had taken a stick to prod at you, the floodgates burst open. you weren't stopping until you gave him a piece of your mind. "because i have to cram my streaming schedule and studying schedule to accommodate to your filming one. maybe i am blaming you, but i've tried my best to do my job all while studying and having to deal with an asshole like yourself who's so inconsiderate that he can't even do one thing for his neighbor who's practically dying to adjust their lifestyle because of someone else's."

your neighbor goes silent after that, choosing to just sigh and go back inside his apartment. you relish in the silence that comes after he shuts the door and down the rest of your bottle before heading back inside yourself. strangely after that incident, you heard less and less of sunghoon on the weekend and thus were able to return to your normal schedule. even while passing by him, he kept his mouth shut and would just nod a cordial hello. you guess what you said that night really got through to him.

and he proves that because after about three weekends, you hear a knock on your door. upon opening it, you're surprised to see sunghoon behind it, his hands behind his back as he shifts side to side. "oh, hello sunghoon," you greet him awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"hey y/n," he returns. the youtuber stops fidgeting for a moment and bows after gathering up some courage. "listen, i just want to say i'm sorry." he looks up at your face, searching for some sign of hatred and he thankfully finds none, so he continues. "i didn't realize how much of an asshole i was until you said that. i was just thinking about myself and not about you or anybody else. i hope i was able to prove it to you these past three weeks, and i promise i won't go back to my old habits."

your silence is not so reassuring, so sunghoon nervously lifts his head to peek at your face to find an astonished expression. you stammer a little bit and hold the doorframe to keep yourself in place. "u-uh... gosh, i don't know what to say, sunghoon," you stutter. then, you notice another neighbor exiting the elevator, looking at the two of you strangely since sunghoon is still lowering his head. "oh! you can stand up straight now! please."

he does as you say, smiling sheepishly, and you notice how much better he looks smiling than the usual smirks he had sent you before. "apology accepted, sunghoon."

"r-really?"

you nod. "i mean, you really have proven yourself lately, so i don't see why i shouldn't."

"great!" his smile grows wider, making you blush and look anywhere but his face. "then i have a surprise for you to start over." you shoot him a confused look that he disregards out of boyish excitement. "close up, come over to my place for a few."

"o-okay, give me a moment, i'll be right over," you say as he rushes back to his apartment. you hurriedly grab your keys and look in the mirror next to your door to smooth out your hair before you're scolding yourself for caring about looks when he literally just saw you. closing the door, you lock up, head over to room 505, and knock.

"it's open," his voice calls from inside, and with that, you push the door open to find the living space of your own apartment, except totally flipped. to your left is a small living room, complete with a two-seater couch, a tv stand, and a tv. whereas to your right, there was a dining room fit for two, the kitchen right behind it before a hallway leads to the single bedroom and bathroom. you're too busy taking in this opposite room that you don't notice the fish tank on the round table full of live fish. "come over here," he says with an enthusiastic grin.

"yah, park sunghoon. what in the world is this?" you say flabbergasted.

"i'm showing you what i do for a living and cooking you a fresh meal," is all he has to say as you grimace and reluctantly move towards him. "this is my second time cooking it, so it should go a lot better."

"and what exactly is... it?"

"mudfish, way less than what i usually have for mukbangs though." you know, you had completely forgotten what the guy did on youtube since his handsome face distracted you for a handful of moments, but now reality had set in for you: he was going to do this live in front of you.

if you're uncomfortable with cooking live fresh food, please skip to the next italicized line!

"i swear to god, park sunghoon, if you do anything stupid, consider this restart invalid. you'll be hearing from my lawyer," you unsuccessfully warn him as you watch him put on some gloves and grab a cup of salt.

"relax, you're with me. i'm practically a pro," he tries reassuring you, but then he sprinkles the salt inside the tank. the fish start splashing around violently, causing you to let out a small yelp as some splashes of water get on you. "yaaah, this is way better than last time!"

"is this what you do every weekend?!" you shout at a low volume and cover your eyes with your hands.

"you can look now, it's fine," sunghoon says, pointing at the fish. you peek through the gaps between your fingers to see that the fish have stopped moving. sunghoon smirks as you take your hands away from your face. "see? i'm a pro."

coating and deep frying starts here!

he starts to coat them one by one in egg and flour and lays them down on a baking pan lined with paper. you watch as he handles each one delicately with concentration. "do you want me to start the oil?" you offer.

"oh! that would be great, thanks! the wok is already on the stove, just turn it on," he explains. you find the wok exactly where he had told you and turn on the gas stove accordingly, as if you've been here hundreds of times before, but in reality, you just have the same appliances. by the time the oil has been heated to the right temperature, sunghoon has already finished coating the fish. the two of you work together to place each one in the oil, listening to them sizzle and pop.

"we make a good team," sunghoon comments once every fish has started frying. you take care of the tongs and move them around when appropriate. "you should come by and guest star in one of my videos."

"if it's anything like today's, no thank you," you politely reject.

"what if... i invite you to eat after i cook?" he shoots his shot again. rolling your eyes playfully, you see that the fish are all thoroughly fried and turn off the fire. with his own tongs, sunghoon puts the fish on the plate as you go off to prepare two bowls of rice. the small dining room table gets cleaned up, so the two of you can start your meal. "okay, your answer?"

"depends on how good this mudfish is," you reply, holding up a fried fish with your chopsticks. he follows suit, and you two cheer your meals together.

"i'll eat well," the both of you say in harmony. finally, you take a bite of the crispy fish and hum in satisfaction, your eyes widening.

"mm! it's really good!" you compliment as he takes joy in your pleased expression.

"i'll take that as a yes to my question then?"

"hoon, i'll come over whenever you want me to," you exaggerate.

"deal," he accepts quickly so that you can't take it back. and that's how your first meal went with park sunghoon. soon enough, one meal turned into two, to five, to ten, until you're basically spending a lot of time with the youtuber. pretty much every weekend, you and sunghoon set it up so that you would cook and eat together in the afternoon so that you would have the rest of the evening to stream.

at some point, you find out that his major is biology, which is similar to your own in biochemistry, so your time with sunghoon extends to studying together and eventually gaming. one of you is always at the other's place and vice versa like you couldn't be without each other for a single moment.

you're eating takoyaki with said boy in your apartment this time, staring at his well-proportioned facial features as you chew slowly and think. he catches your unwavering gaze and chuckles. "is there something on my face, y/n?"

"i'm just thinking," you vaguely reply.

"about the thing on my face?" you shake your head at this. "then what is it? i know i'm really handsome and all, but you literally see me all the time."

"that's exactly my point!" you cry out as if you hit eureka, shocking him in the process. "we're together all the time. we were literally enemies at first, and now it's like we're dating! what is this, some kind of shitty fanfiction?" yes

"well, do you want us to date?" luckily, you had just swallowed the last bit of your takoyaki ball because that could've made you choke. instead, you suddenly start coughing, and he pushes your water towards you.

the coldness of the water does nothing to help your rising temperature as you take big gulps of it. "wh-what kind of question is that?" you ask, patting your mouth dry with a nearby tissue.

"a serious one," he answers nonchalantly. "because i like you." stream dreamcatcher BEcause

"huh? since when?" you're practically in disbelief. no way sunghoon liked you back. you had just discovered your own feelings not too long ago when you had tucked him in after an intense study session and he whispered your name. ever since then, you got butterflies in your stomach around him, and not because he made it a mukbang. (but you wouldn't put it past him?)

the male rubs the back of his neck. "it's been a while. i just know that i like you."

"st-stop saying that!" you wave your hands in front of your face frantically to hide the redness you know that has spread all over.

"oh? or what, room 506?" he gets up from his seat across from you to prop his elbows on the table, getting a closer look at your cute, embarrassed appearance as he rests his head on his hands. "make me," he prods some more.

reminiscent of the first time you cooked together, you peeked through your fingers to witness his adorable grin waiting for you. as if wanting you to seal the deal, he closes his eyes and smiles with just his lips. you shyly reach out to grab his cheeks, taking a moment to brush the fringe out of his eyes so you can adore the moles that dotted his face, and slowly bring your own lips towards his to press them together in a kiss.

it's short but sweet, and soon you're pulling away and finding your fingers more interesting. sunghoon's eyes flutter open and fondly gazed at you. "be mine?" he speaks up.

"if you stop making my heart scream, then yeah," you mumble, stealing a glance at his smug smile. he laughs, stands up, and walks over to your side of the table. turning your chair around as if you weighed nothing, he places his hands on the table behind you, engaging you in between his long limbs.

"sweetheart, that's the whole point," he says, leaning down to chase your lips and kiss you until your heart can't take it anymore. you're both screaming on the inside as your hearts keep pounding in your chests, but at least this time it's from your pure feelings towards each other.

a/n: omg this is the last of captured on camera EEE thank you all so so much for being here with me on this journey of my first one-shot series <3 this really shows my growth as a writer, and i'm so glad i could share it with y'all! i hope you all look forward to my next one-shot series~

taglist: @cha-raena @imjustme-things @misoiishi @rikitaiyaki @fiantomartell

[miss--aura]

Saw your requests were open! I too love Fatgum so maybe an +18 plus scenario with some angst? Like maybe you were good friends but now both are stuck in limbo after sleeping with each other one night. Confused about what they are. Sorry if I'm not making sense.

Stuck In between

Pairing: Taishiro Toyomitsu x Reader

Warnings: angst, bad smut because I had a headache while writing the ending, idk what to put for warnings, banana milk sucks

Requested by: ness-is-a-vanillabean

On a serious note I decided I don't know how to wrote angst or if this counts as angst lmao.

It was a spur of the moment decision, at least that's what you kept telling yourself. You were drunk, and let your lust get the better of you and now you didn't know what to do.

You shouldn't have let Midnight convince you to go, you shouldn't have taken the wine glass offered to you. It was all just some big mistake that you made, and it landed you where you are now.

You haven't left your house in a week and you certainly havent been checking any messages on your phone. Luckily you could work from home, but you couldnt hide forever.

"God, I'm so stupid!" Slamming your head on your desk with a groan, tears forming in your eyes as you choke out a sob.

No matter how hard you tried it kept replaying in your head. The way his eyes seemed to drink you up, his hands caressing every inch of your body, the way he filled you up hitting the spots that made you forget your name.

Part of you didn't regret it at all, getting out all of the lust filled emotions was such a nice release to something you've been holding onto for god knows how long.

Yet, you couldnt look back on the memory in a fond light. Because in the end, you said I love you. You said I love you to your bestfriend, and now you couldn't even talk to him.

He'd called you at least 15 times a day since then, over 200 messages being left unread. You just had to go and be selfish, didn't you? Ruin the one good thing you had in your life.

You wondered how he was doing, not that you'd ask. But at the same time, you were his bestfriend and you confessed your love to him in a drunken haze and haven't spoken to him since.

All the ways you could've confessed, you had to go and do it when you were drunk out of your mind and being pounded into a mattress. Going back to work at the agency would be a nightmare now.

One week left until you actually had to go back to the agency. Meaning one week to figure out how to avoid Taishiro for the rest of your life. Did you want to avoid him? No, but you'd rather avoid him than own up to your own emotions.

Picking your head up off the desk you decide to actually do something productive for once. You needed groceries anyways and right now was the perfect time to do so, considering Taishiro would be patrolling the other side of town.

You quickly freshen up and head out the door, the grocery store being only a few blocks away so you could manage walking there and back.

It was a short walk, being about 15 minutes give or take a few. Now that you were scanning shelves you realized how long it had really been since you've seen, well, another human.

It almost made you laugh, how seeing really people made you feel better about the situation your in. Sucking in your cheeks you put a small case of banana milk into your cart.

Taishiro didn't really care for it, but it was almost a comfort item for you. He always said it just tasted like a banana, and it'd cost less to buy regular bananas instead. Though you'd disagree everytime he brought it up.

Sure, it tasted like bananas, but it is banana milk so whatever. Plus it came in cute boxes with a straw and who were you to deny something that looked so cute.

Making it to checkout, you place your items on the counter. Allowing the cashier to do their job while you let your eyes wander around the store.

It wasn't big, but it had a comforting feel. Maybe it was because you'd been feeling down, or maybe it was the way you'd been here so many times that the familiarity was comforting to you.

Never the less you give a small smile to the cashier, finishing the rest of your items as you pay. Fishing the bags into your arms as you start the short journey back to your home.

"Need help carrying those bags?" The voice made you freeze in place. There was no way this was happening, he wasn't supposed to be here. He was on duty, right?

"Listen we need to talk, you can't keep ignoring me."

"I don't wanna talk right now, aren't you on duty anyway? I have to go put these away." You start walking off, hurrying to get away.

"I'm a hero, I help people in need. You aren't feeling like yourself which means it's my place to help. Is it not?"

"I said I don't want to talk, I said something I didn't mean, and I have to face the consequences for that. Okay?"

"So you don't love me?" You swear you could hear the hurt in his voice, but you told yourself you were hearing things. You can't ruin this anymore than you already have.

You can't bring yourself to respond, quickening your pace as your eyes fill with tears. Trying to blink them away only causing them to slide down your face. Not that you bother to wipe them because you know Taishiro is still watching you walk away.

He doesn't like you like that, he's a pro hero, you're just an office lady. That's what you have to remember. Whatever you thought you had, was just you trying to convince yourself that something could happen.

It didn't matter if you wanted to run into his arms, nothing would change. You'd be the hopeless romantic who had feelings for a hero who didn't have time to waste on a relationship.

"Y/n wait! Stop walking so fast I can't keep up!" Taishiro's voiced filled through your ears, your heart melting at the sound. But for once, your head was in control. Head over heart, that's what your mom always said.

"Go away 'shiro." It came out more broken than you wanted it to and you knew he could see right through you as much as you wanted to hide away from your feelings your feet plant themselves no longer letting you move further.

Two arms wrapping around your waist in the tightest hug you've ever experienced. Stealing the air from your lungs as a small whine of pain escapes your lips.

"Y/n, listen to me. You can't keep avoiding me. I've been worried sick about you, can't you tell? I thought I was dreaming when you told me you loved me but just as soon as that happened you dissapeared. Please Y/n talk to me."

You shook your head more tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to speak without sounding like you were dying. Though it felt like you were.

"You don't love me 'shiro, I gotta get over you but whenever you're near me it makes it so hard. No matter how hard I try I keep falling harder."

"Who said I don't love you? Angelcake, you never asked me if I loved you. Look at you, what is there not to love about you? When you said you loved me I'd never been more happy in my entire life. So please, stop running away from me, I hate not being with you."

"'shiro..."

"Shh, let's get you home, I wanna show you how much I love you."

Arriving at your house, you force the key into the door as quick as you can manage. Taishiro taking notice to how desperate you were to enter.

Pushing the door open you realize how messy your house was, an awkward smile spreading across your face as you let him in. "Please excuse the mess, it's not usually like this I've just been having a hard time recently."

"As if it's any worse than mine, besides I'm not here to judge you." He grins placing his hand in yours and leading you to your bedroom. Seeing as he'd been here enough to know the lay out of your house.

Just as soon as you were in your room, he was all over you. Kissing you with so much passion you thought you were dreaming by the way he seemed to be bleeding out lust.

Taishiro opted to use his normal form in moments like this, his fat body not working when it came to the more intimate moments. Not that you loved him any less in any form.

You whine into the kiss, your body on fire from the arousal building up within you. Clawing at your close to get them off, desperate to have Taishiro's hands be on your bare skin.

"Someones needy, aren't they?"

"'shiro, please I want you. I've been waiting for this."

He hums, giving you a small nod as his hands sneak up your shirt. Helping you strip out of your clothes before falling suite with his own.

His hands grope your breasts squeezing lightly to get a reaction out of you. Which you give through a small moan. The noise is just enough to get him going though.

Spreading your legs and holding them open with his knees he slides his fingers over your folds, getting a grasp for how wet you were for him.

The more he teased the more you squirmed under him, small begs passing through your lips. Begging for him to hurry up.

"Taishiro, please stop teasing me I cant wait anymore~"

He only smiles in response, placing his cock at your entrance. Having done this just a week ago he was more than ready to plunge into the depth. Slowly thrusting into you allowing you to adjust.

You whine out his name, back slightly arching off the bed in ecstasy. Clenching around him your eyes clouded with list at the sensual yet familiar feeling of him filling you up.

He thrusts harder, finding a sweet rhythmatic pace that made the both of you feel good. Not too fast, but not too slow either. The perfect momentum between the two of you.

Leaning down to kiss you, he finds himself smiling like a little kid, happier than ever to be with you in this moment.

"'m close baby, where do you want my cum?"

"Anywhere, I dont care."

Satisfied with that response he thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and letting his cum cover your lower abdomen.

"I told you I loved you babe, is that enough to prove it?"

"More than I could have ever asked for."

[teawithotome]

R3! Ready! Reserve! Rescue! “Crikey! It’s a Hybrid”: Fun Times at Mankai Nature & Hybrid Reserve - Now with Cafe! [Sexy Animal Farm AKA That One Hybrid AU That I Will Not Shut Up About]

1: Mankai Nature Reserve || 2: Fleeting Youth (Hybrids Go Through Puberty Too)

summary:

Izumi Tachibana leaves home looking for a change and ends up with her hands full of… paws, hooves, claws, and talons! (insert various animal noises)

Mankai Nature Reserve used to be a home for many wild hybrids - beings that can shift between human and animal - but in recent years it’s fallen into disrepair. Will Izumi be able to restore this rundown nature reserve into a blooming habitat once more, and help domesticate the wild hybrids she encounters along the way?

… Doubtful. But she loves a project!

notes: in which Izumi reassesses her parenting style and a stain is left on the armchair

warnings for this chapter: swearing, mild hurt/comfort

Maybe, Izumi thinks to herself as she sips her mug of hot cocoa, this place isn't so bad. Granted, that sentiment is largely due to the tall, dark, and handsome stranger who introduced himself (when asked) as Tetsuro and very quickly had both Izumi and Iku relatively dried off and bundled up in some spare blankets

Despite being the silent type, he had a comforting air about him that put Izumi at ease.

The squirrel from before had actually helped make the cocoa, and it did lift Izumi's mood a bit to watch the little guy carry a bag of marshmallows nearly as tall as himself over to the counter and carefully place a few into her drink.

Now she sits on a well-worn couch by the cozy fireplace inside the cabin, nursing her cocoa. Iku has a blow dryer trained on him on the floor, set to warm him up as well. The chinchilla fluffs and grooms himself in front of it to help get the rest of the damp out of his fur.

The interior of the cabin has an open floor plan, with a reception desk by the door leading into a cozy sitting area and a small kitchen. All wooden floors and walls, dingy and dull from years of neglect.

Tetsuro, standing nearer to the kitchen, slides a small dish of birdseed into the cage, which he'd brought inside and set on the countertop. The bird, still throwing a tantrum, knocks it aside with an off-key squawk. The squirrel flinches away from the noise, scampering back onto Tetsuro's shoulder and peering around him warily.

"EAT MY ASS!" The bird cackles in the way only birds can, shaking out its feathers from the rain and spraying droplets all over.

Tetsuro doesn't seem discouraged, and merely sighs, covering the cage with a cloth.

The bird protests initially, until its profanities dwindle, eventually fading entirely as soft snores start to emanate from the covered cage.

Izumi finds this amusing. "He needs a time out, huh?"

Tetsuro tosses her a sidelong smile. "Mm."

The cabin door bursts open, and the scruffy man reappears, dripping wet, but notably no longer covered in mud or whimpering in defeat on the ground.

He adjusts his glasses, taking a moment to collect himself, and then beams broadly at Izumi. "I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot! Allow me to introduce myself-"

"Isuke." Tetsuro interrupts, then inclines his head towards the window, where rain is still pouring down.

"Ah, yes, yes, you go on ahead. I'll take care of our guests." The scruffy man replies, and Tetsuro takes his leave through the back door.

Izumi suddenly feels less cozy and more cautious. She subtly beckons Iku to come and sit on her lap, and he does so, burying himself in the crook of her arm.

Izumi closes her free hand around the carabiner in her pocket, just in case this guy tries anything funny. They may have been given shelter by these people, but that doesn't change the fact that they're strangers. She's listened to too many true crime podcasts to let down her guard completely.

The guy comes around and sits in the armchair opposite, ignoring the fact that he's still dripping wet. Izumi cringes internally at the sight of the darkening upholstery as the damp spot spreads around him, but decides not to say anything.

"Like I was saying, my name is Isuke Matsukawa, and I'm the manager of this beautiful nature reserve." Matsukawa states proudly. "I'm sure you must have lots of questions, and I'd be thrilled to answer all of them!"

Izumi looks around the cabin. She stares at him. "No, not really."

He reels back as though physically pushed. "You… you don't have any questions?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious that this place is falling apart." She sets her drink down on the low coffee table off to the side. "You said there was a 'grand reopening' or something? A hybrid cafe?"

Matsukawa nods fiercely and stands up, his eyes lighting up behind water flecked spectacles. "That's right!"

Izumi holds up a hand before he can continue, ignoring the way Iku's ears perk up. "Sorry, but we're not really interested. Thank you for the hospitality, but we need to get going."

Iku shifts back into a boy, his clothes and hair still a bit damp, and rolls off of Izumi's lap, turning to the scruffy man with that glimmer of hope. "I'm interested! You have a cafe?"

Izumi sighs. She'd been afraid this would happen. "Iku, we need to get back on the road."

"Iku, is it? Well, aren't you a cute one!" Matsukawa crouches down to the hybrid's level and adjusts his glasses proudly. "That's right, my boy! A soon-to-be certified hybrid cafe! The first one outside of the city."

Iku's bushy tail whips around excitedly, and he turns to Izumi, clasping his hands and pouting for all he's worth. "Please Izu! Please, please, please can we stay to see the cafe?"

Izumi chews her lip. She hates being the bad guy, but she knows she really should have a talk with Iku about his little escape earlier, which she would much rather not do in front of strangers. That kind of reckless behavior shouldn't be rewarded.

Plus, what kind of hybrids would work at a cafe run by this man? If the nudist bird from earlier is one of them, then she doesn't want Iku anywhere near the place.

Before she can buckle down, thunder rumbles loud enough to rattle her cocoa mug against the table, and Matsukawa speaks up.

"Well, you certainly can't go out on the road in a doozy of a storm like this! You should at least stay here until it's safe to drive." He claps his hands together. "Oh, we even have a guest bedroom upstairs you can use!"

"A guest bedroom?" Izumi asks, getting antsy to leave. What is this, an airbnb?

"Well, up until about eight years ago, it belonged to our director of operations here, Yukio Tachibana, but he-"

Izumi freezes. Yukio Tachibana? It can't be… She stands up suddenly, to both Iku's and the manager's surprise.

"You know what? You're right. It's not safe to travel in this weather." She takes Iku's hand and manages a smile in Matsukawa's direction. "Where's that guest bedroom?"

—

Izumi recognizes that she may look a bit silly, reprimanding a chinchilla. But it’s part of her responsibility as an owner and caretaker.

“What were you thinking?” She says, now that she and Iku have some privacy from disheveled managers and profane pigeons. “You know you can’t get wet like that, it’s dangerous!”

Iku stays put in his animal form, hunkering in on himself on the foot of the small bed.

Izumi huffs, and kneels on the ground, elbows resting on the bed to be at eye level with her small companion. “I know you want to make friends, but you can’t put your wants over your own safety.”

Iku lets out a small vocalization, turning away from her.

Is he sulking? That’s… unusual for him. She expected Iku to apologize and need some comfort, if anything. He’s always been a bit of a crybaby. “Look, bud. I was ready to tear this place to the ground looking for you. You really scared me.”

Nothing.

She reaches out to pet his back, and he whips around to nip at her fingers.

She yanks her hand away. Is he… angry?

Her surprise turns into mild irritation. Doesn’t he understand how serious things could have been if Tetsuro hadn’t found him? Maybe it’s something else. Has his diet changed at all? She let him have an extra peanut butter cracker after dinner last night, but nothing too out of the ordinary. He’s been getting enough sleep.

“Iku, talk to me. Come on.” She clicks her fingers together in a gesture which usually makes him snuggle into her hand. Now it only brings about more of the furry cold shoulder act.

Well, she’s tried lecturing, comforting, and talking things out.

“Alright. Seems like someone needs a time out.”

It’s these words that cause Iku to finally shift, hopping off the bed to stand at his full height of five foot three. His bushy tail shakes and lashes around behind him, ears pressed flat against his head as he stares up at Izumi, eyes red and watery, but filled with a fiery determination.

"I'm not a BABY anymore!" He shouts, his lower lip quivering, chin set. “I know it was dangerous, but I’m all ALONE! I need-” He chokes. His eyes squeeze shut as he sits on the words that were stamped so deeply in his heart, he must have pried them out with a crowbar.

Oh… Izumi’s throat constricts.

Chinchillas are social creatures. One of those hybrid types that you really should adopt in pairs or with others so they don’t feel isolated. She'd always thought that by sticking with Iku and being his constant companion… she would be enough to compensate for that.

But she realizes now that she might have only hurt Iku in trying to help him. And broken her own heart in the process. Because she recognizes that loneliness, that terrible feeling of not having anyone who understands you.

Izumi tries to take a tender hold of his shoulders, but he shrugs her off, reluctant to give up his newfound rebellion, even as he swipes away at his tears.

Izumi looks him in the eyes. Makes a conscious choice to do what her mother never could for her.

“I’m sorry.”

Iku’s chin quivers, and he breaks. Izumi holds his head against her as he collapses into her arms and blubbers his own apologies, but she shushes them. It’s her job to make this right, not his.

The truth is, Iku’s right. He’s not a baby anymore. He’ll be turning sixteen next month. She’ll have to do a bit of research on navigating a hybrid’s teenage years. What to expect, how to adapt. But most importantly, she’ll have to learn to let Iku take the lead.

It's less than an hour later, once Iku is tucked in, reassured that they can talk more in the morning, and snoring softly in the simple bed beside her - fresh linens provided by the manager to replace the old and dusty ones - that Izumi lets herself think about what Matsukawa said earlier that evening.

Director of operations. Yukio Tachibana.

What had her dad been doing here, in this place?

He hadn't been in her life since she was around five or six years old, and even then, her memories of him are fuzzy and infrequent. After that, he simply wasn't there.

Her mom used to tell her that he was "finding peace among nature". Her mom had always been a bit eccentric. Finding peace in nature sounded really cool when she was young - she had imagined her dad meditating beneath waterfalls, and learning how to move stuff with his mind - but she understood later that it meant he'd died.

Now she's not so sure. Eight years ago, she was sixteen. And Yukio had been… here? In this place, away from his family?

Did her mom know about this? Maybe her parents had a falling out and he ran off. There's no way to know for sure. Izumi can't exactly ask her techno-phobic mom now that they're so far from home. Not that she'd even want to, with the way she'd left things.

She carefully extricates herself from Iku, who had shifted back into a chinchilla in his sleep. He stirs slightly, squeaking at her absence, though his eyes remain closed.

"Just going pee, be right back, bud." She whispers, and this seems to be enough to let him drift fully back to sleep.

Once he's safely snoring again, she takes a moment to look around the room. Her father's old room.

Bed, desk, small wardrobe, window. The decor is sparse, and she gets the sense that function was prioritized over fashion, aside from a single piece of art on the wall above the desk.

She steps over for a closer look, the floorboards creaking a little beneath her feet. It's a cross stitch design. A nature scene. A male deer - what’s it called, a stag? - standing tall and proud atop a rock, sunlight glinting off the antlers. A river and forest of trees make up the backdrop.

Her mother does cross stitch. Did she make this? Would her father have kept it if they did have a falling out?

Too many questions. No sign of answers.

She sighs softly, examining the vertical drawers of the wooden desk. She expected them to be locked, and they are. Except the last one.

A small, leather-bound book. Dusty, like everything else in the room. Iku could practically take a bath in here.

She thumbs through the pages to find scratchy handwriting. A journal?

The light is dim, and she doesn't want to risk using her phone flashlight and waking up Iku. So she opts to tuck it in her jacket and look at it in the morning.

She sweeps her eyes around the rest of the room, searching for… she's not exactly sure what. A hint. A sign. A clue. Anything that might bring a bit of light to the dull and foggy memories she has of her father.

A small bookcase lines the wall. She hadn't noticed it before, since there were storage boxes in the way. She creeps around them to look at what sort of books fill the shelves.

A History of Mythical Beasts, Harmony & Nature - A Guide to Spirits, Encyclopedia of Hybrids and Humanoid Creatures of Unknown Origin.

Mythical beasts and spirits? So her dad was a whacko too, huh?

She snorts to herself. She would think the director of a nature reserve would be a little more grounded in reality. But she can't knock a man she barely knew for having hobbies.

Upon skimming further down the shelves, she finds some more useful books. Hybrid Care 101, The Household Guide to Hybrid Happiness, How to Train Your Hybrid… the list goes on.

She picks one out on Helping Hybrids Through Puberty, and calls it a night.

[giorno-plays-piano]

You were all I wanted

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, kidnapping, human trafficking, slight mention of body shaming, allusion to non-con.

Words: 2195.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

P.S. Peter is an adult!

__________

"We hope you are going to enjoy your new girl, Mr. Stark." The man loosened his grip on your shoulder as he let you march straight into the arms of a stranger in a fancy striped suit and big frightening men with guns surrounding him.

"Nah, this one isn't for me." The stranger who bought you brushed it off as if your presence meant nothing. "She's a present for the boy. Peter, where the fuck are you?"

You almost jumped at his loud voice, keeping your head low and watching your unstable feet. Well, you expected as much - before you that mysterious Mr. Stark bought one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life. Her striking black hair was shining even in the dim lights of the dressing room where all captured girls were taken care of before the start of the auction. She costed twice more than you and had much more admirers - you remembered how men were shouting, trying to outbid each other. You weren't that popular, but still ended up being purchased by the same man she was. Now it all made sense.

"I'm here, Mr. Stark!" A young boy's head popped out in the crowd of other buyers, and he emerged right in front of you with a long men's coat in his hands. "I'm sorry it took me so long!"

"Look at this gent." The man smirked at him, and his guards laughed a little at the boy's enthusiasm. "So caring! I hope you're not going to take the girl straight to church?"

Now there was an inappropriately loud burst of laughter, and you bit your own tongue. They all were a bunch of bastards, but your life depended on them now. You needed to keep your mouth shut if you wanted to make it out alive.

The boy smiled brightly at his patron and looked at you with sparkles of happiness in his dark eyes. Oh, at least he was more or less pleased with the way you looked, you thought.

"Congrats with your first girl, Peter." Mr. Stark's smug grin suddenly turned warm at the sight of the boy who was almost jumping with excitement in front of him. "You're sure she's the one you want? I can still get a replacement if you've changed your mind."

"No, no, Mr. Stark, she's perfect for me!" Once the man in the suit nudged you to come closer to the boy, Peter gently wrapped your shoulders into the coat he carried and smiled at you widely. "Thank you so much for your present, sir!"

"Enjoy, kid." His patron smirked and motioned to the men waiting for him. "Let's get going then, I have business to attend to."

Judging by their nasty smirks, his business had something to do with that gorgeous black-haired woman they took somewhere earlier. You did your best not to throw up at the thought of him forcing her down her knees.

"Can you walk?" The boy suddenly asked you quietly, and you blinked. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Nice joke. The guy looked twice slimmer than you, skinny as a rail. You'd break him in half, probably. You weren't sure whether he was mocking you, but it was obviously not the right time to throw a temper tantrum.

"I can walk. Thank you." You mumbled and made a step towards those men who were already leaving.

"Ok. Come with me then." You thought his boyish smile looked pretty.

You walked past other girls dressed in expensive flashy lingerie adorned with glitter, sequins, and laces. Some of young women were as terrified as you were, their faces red with tears; the others seemed strangely happy, shouting something to each other and giggling in front of their new masters - you thought those girls were prostitutes or someone of the same kind because the idea of laughing happily after being bought like a piece of clothing didn't sit well with you. You spotted a few more ladies who were still unstable on their feet because they were given too much drugs, probably. Two dozens women, maybe more, were gathered in a place like that to become someone's property. Like you did now.

It was cold outside despite September being usually warm in New York. You had never lived here before, but one of your friends moved in the Big Apple two years ago and was always talking about nice weather they often enjoyed.

"It's right over there." The boy pointed to one of the cars in a long row of them, Mr. Stark already getting inside a ridiculously fashionable one. Peter's old Honda was nowhere near that, but you were relieved. It made you feel like you weren't taken to some scary place full of criminals waiting to fuck the shit out of you.

The kid opened the door for you like you were some fairytale princess or something, and you got inside, holding the coat that almost slipped from your shaking shoulders while the boy quickly landed on the driver's seat. You couldn't guess his age, but if he drove the car he was probably older than 16.

"I'm so sorry, I know you're cold." He glanced at your silk robe beneath the coat, your legs bare - you had nothing but fluffy slippers on your feet. "It'll get better in a minute."

What a considerate little guy. If he didn't show up with that overconfident mobster who looked like he owned New York, you'd think Peter was some sweet high schooler who spent his weekends working in an animal shelter. But you weren't stupid to believe his innocent looks.

At one point you thought he might be Mr. Stark's illegitimate son, but something told you  it wasn't that. The way Peter looked at him with adoration proved that the man was more of his patron as you suspected from the very beginning.

"I know they didn't feed you today, so I brought you some chicken soup." He said and reached to grab something from the back seat - you glanced at the metal food jar thermos that softly landed on your naked lap.

Did he bring you food? For real? No, it must be some trick - there were drugs or something like that there, for sure. Why else was this guy playing the role of your mother, for God's sake?

"You're not allergic to chicken, are you?" Kid looked concerned, watching the troubled expression on your face. "Oh shoot, I didn't check your allergies!"

"I'm not allergic." You quickly replied, afraid to make him upset.

He was getting restless too fast, you thought. Peter really behaved like a kid. What was that Mr. Stark told him after the auction? Something like "congrats with your first girl", wasn't it? So, it probably meant Peter had never been with a woman before. Not that you had been with a man, either. Maybe that's why he picked you.

But it also could be all an act. Teenagers weren't getting slaves to take care of their sexual needs. Maybe this Peter wasn't as young as you thought, and in fact he was some psycho who planned to drug, rape and murder you.

Either way, he would get mad if you didn't get started with that soup - you could read it in his face.

Opening the jar, you felt a delicious smell filling your nostrils when your stomach made an ugly sound. Damn, you had never been so hungry in your entire life.

The truth was the supervisors who took care of all the girls before the auction made you starve for two days "to get you in shape". They said you were too fat and they had to do something to make you at least a bit more presentable.

"Well, if I'm going to die, I will die with a full stomach." You thought gloomly and started gulping down the warm soup. It tasted heavenly good.

The boy watched you in awe as if you were becoming more and more beautiful with eash sip.

"I'm not much of a cook, but Aunt May managed to teach me to make a chicken soup." He said with a sudden warmth to his voice. "So, um, don't worry, you won't die of starvation with me."

You forced yourself to smile at his attempt to make a small joke. As far as you were concerned, your body was perfectly okay even after you finished eating. Maybe the drug took longer to start affecting you, but maybe you were just lucky and there was nothing in the soup at all.

All of a sudden, Peter's phone started ringing, and he took it from the pocket of his jacket immediately.

"Where the fuck are you again, kid?" You could hear Stark's thundering voice even from your seat.

"I'm sorry, sir!" The boy squeaked and adjusted his seatbelt. "We're coming!"

____________

The room he brought you to was fairly large and comfortable to your tastes: there were a comfy king-sized bed, a huge table with a dozen of oddly-looking gadgets and two screens, a chair, a drawer and a closet. There was also a newly-bought TV that wasn't set up yet, and a microwave on a side table.

"I'm terribly sorry for the mess." Peter apologized to you as if you were his parent who came to scold him. "Don't worry, I'll take it all away. Please come and sit here."

He briefly gestured to the bed, and you bit down on your lower lip nervously. The kid was fast.

You didn't talk much in the car since you were waiting for the drug to kick in, but nothing happened. As for Peter, you thought that he was too shy to talk, but maybe he just didn't want to. In the end, he asked his patron to buy you for a very different reason.

"The bathroom is over there. You can take your shower, if you want." He smiled childishly at you.

How could he keep such innocent face when he was about to rape you?

You gathered whatever courage you had left and said, "C-can we talk?"

The boy froze on the spot and dropped whatever gadget he was holding back on the table. You glanced at his skinny boyish figure, that dark ruffled hair and a really pretty face - he looked like your neighbor's sweet son who would climb a tree to get a cat stuck up there back to the ground.

"Of course!" Peter landed on the bed close to you, watching you with his undying enthusiasm. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Why did you choose me?"

You really wanted to know. You weren't the usual goods they sold on that auction, the human traffickers said. Though there were a few girls who weren't breathtakingly beautiful, most of the ones brought there were well above average women. They looked like they came straight from Victoria's Secret Show.

"Well... um." You could see his ears getting red. "You're... pretty. I like you."

Huh, funny. Why did you ask? The answer was obvious - you were cheap. Mr. Stark didn't want to spend too much money on a present for the kid, so Peter had rather limited choice, probably.

"Why are you getting upset?" He sounded so concerned that you made yourself smile again to calm him down. Anyway, it was better to be grateful. You were almost sold to some disgusting old man. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you didn't. I'm sorry." You hurried to say. "I'm sorry you didn't get anyone better than me. That place was full of magnificent women."

What the fuck were you saying? Did you seriously think those poor souls deserved to be sold like cattle just because they were prettier than you? God, you were so messed up.

"Wait, no!" The boy grabbed your hands in his and made you flinch involuntarily. "No, no, you're beautiful! I chose you because I like you more than anyone else."

Bewildered, you looked at his worried expression, his eyes staring at you intensely while you squeezed your thighs together. Hearing the boy say that felt very odd, but kind of... comforting? Not many people ever called you beautiful, mind your mother and a few friends. It was stupid to think about it now when the one calling you that was the man whose property you had become, yet you couldn't help but get those little butterflies in your stomach.

You eyes watered, and you quickly wiped your tears away.

"People were treating you badly, weren't they? It's terrible." The boy pulled out a pack of napkins and took one, gently pressing it to your wet cheek. "But I swear I fell in love with you once I saw your photos on the website. You're the prettiest girl I've ever met, for real!"

When he removed the napkin, you saw his pupils dilating and felt his breath becoming ragged, heavy. One of his hands rested on your thigh as he leaned closer to you and sniffed your hair. Your body went stiff.

"No one gonna say anything nasty to you from now on. I'll make sure of that."

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @msruchita @opheliadawnwalker3

[idvask-hunterfinn]

Judgement. (Don't overdo yourself btw, take breaks between asks <3)

A/N: First-person again!

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Question: Have you ever done something that you were really ashamed of?

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"It's complicated."

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When people kill, is it for fun, pleasure, or some form of justice? Is it an outlet to some? Is it a way of life for others? No one is born to kill, right? I guess that's a discussion for the plants on another day. At the end of the day, it's just natural selection. The strong go after the weak, those less fortunate will be targeted, and so on and so forth. But when I apply these things to me, it just becomes more of a mess to understand my actions, and myself. I wish I knew the answers, well I do but I know deep down that it's a falsehood.

I know that I am fully conscious and in control when I kill. I think killing is fun, some form of justice, and I find pleasure in it. It may be an outlet for me, a way of life that I've adjusted to ever since my first kill. But I don't know if I was born to kill. I sound so narcissistic right now, it isn't that I swear. Great now that's- focus, Finneas. You know that the divines are judging your every move, it's not worth going up against the inevitable.

I know my life is messy, there is no doubt about that. I was once a well-mannered man, now I'm someone in the forest. But humans and plant life, they aren't that different. We grow in the richest soil, bringing beauty into the world, until we wither away or get plucked out from the homes we grew up in, taking our roots with us. I had good parents, and I was surrounded by good people, but I had this pull to nature that no one really understood. I would run to the neighboring woods back when I was in the city, now I'm in the woods. Pretty nice to think about it, if I'm being honest with myself.

Though my honesty, it just depends on my experience as a person. I go after people who I deem to be corrupt without a second thought, but even with the rumors I listen to, and them confirming it at their last breath, I just can't help but wonder what goes on in their heads. This is why you should only stick with Mother Nature and her fellow people, they're easier to be around than people. We work hand in hand, even though I happen to take most of the credit, I pay back by growing flowers.

So why do I feel as if I'm supposed to be eternally tortured?