#like he’ll antagonize him day in and day out just to prove a point. and max is over in the corner like yall hear something?

[grandtheftaristotle]

Okay FUCK Instagram for putting reels of Max Goof and that fuckass frat boy into my feed and making me ship it. Maybe one of the dumbest pairs I’ve ever genuinely shipped in my life, but I’m fully obsessed with them.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

I LOVED your reaper responses to a reader from the future. Could you do the same with the circus group and the Phantomhive/Trancy estate? 😍 Or just the Noah's ark group if the others are too much. Thank you in advance! 😍😍😊

of course!!!

I did something similar with the circus group over in this post, so here I did the Trancy and Phantomhive estates!

anyway MY HEART

Oooooh… wait, no, you’re not just having a go at him, are you?? He’s not some stupid little kid who believes all the fairytales, you know! That said… if you have some kind of proof… he’s thoroughly intrigued by all this. You really are from some point in the future, so, well, why did you end up here? Is he so interesting that you came to see him or what? Hm. He’s glad to let you stay at his manor while you sort things out ― if you’re able to sort it out, that is. If not, he supposes you’ll just… have to stay here with him forever! Much as he knows you probably want to get back to where you belong, he’s also very selfish in that he’ll miss you horribly if you end up leaving. He’s sick of people leaving him all alone. And, you’re better company than most of his servants, at any rate. If you do end up leaving, he takes solace in whatever small keepsake you leave him, and violently hopes you might come back to see him sometime.

Ehh… funny, isn’t that? You’re not just trying to prank the entire Phantomhive Estate, are you? To be completely honest, he doesn’t really know what to say or think. Although he guesses that anything is possible, it just seems impossible to him. That’s the kind of thing you read in stories, people coming back from the future. He also doesn’t understand why you’d come here; if it was an accident, he feels a little more sympathy. Long as you aren’t trying to hurt anyone inside the manor, you’ll be alright by him. He might even let you sneak some sweets or something from the pantry. He’ll mourn the loss when/if you finally leave, but… he’ll make sure to get a big hug before you go back to your own life.

Is he supposed to just take your word for that? He’s required proof for less outrageous claims, so you proving to him that you’re telling the truth is a must. That said… once you’ve done so, he realizes you could be useful. If you pull your weight around the household and do your best, he’ll let you stay. He does get to also pick your brain about the future, for whatever information he thinks will come in handy; refusal to talk will probably lead to him freezing you out a bit. Though, he does manage to get at least a bit close to you either way, to the point that if you leave it almost feels like something else being taken from him. Well. That’s the way life goes, unfortunately. Unable to fully help his sentimentality, if you leave, he does send you back with a little Funtom toy… shaped like your favorite animal, and with a card accompanying it: Sincerest regards from Phantomhive. ― Ciel.

Ah, yes, just what the Trancy household needs… more chaos in the form of a time traveler. Because five demons in service to a young man with a host of emotional issues isn’t quite enough of a three-ring circus. Truth be told, he actually doesn’t care much about you provided that you don’t go out of your way to antagonize him. Even then, it’s hard for him to kick up too much of a fuss, because he’s used to Alois trying to rile him up anyway. Claude is rather indifferent to you most days; he’ll serve you well enough on Alois’ orders, of course. If you don’t make a nuisance of yourself, he’ll likely find your company bearable, and he’s rather able to almost enjoy your presence. He may not show any emotions he has regarding your potential departure… only because demons like him don’t readily show vulnerability. If you end up leaving, he’s left to pick up the pieces of Alois’ anger and grief, but… that’s not to say Claude has none of his own. You really weren’t so bad, were you?

Gosh, that’s just… amazing!! He has so many questions for you! And, well, it seems all of his questions sort of come spilling out at once, so you might need to gently remind him to slow down a bit. Because of everything he’s been through himself, ending up with a power that shouldn’t exist, he doesn’t think anything is impossible. He believes you straightaway, and he’s just as bright and friendly as ever while interacting with you. He does have lots of things to ask, curiosities and whatnot, so he often invites you to come sit with him in the garden while he works. He adores your company, so he’s cheery the whole time you’re here and is quite a good friend. Unfortunately, this does mean he’ll cry buckets when/if it’s time for you to leave. He’s going to miss you!!

Well, that’s… something she hasn’t seen before, though she’s heard tales from other demons about people from the future. Someone like her can’t really claim anything to be impossible, because her very existence is out of a dark fable. She probably does her best to attend to you even before Alois orders her to, simply because she’s sure you must be lonely, having been suddenly thrown into a place you don’t belong. It’s all she can do to try and keep you happy, wanting you to feel safe in the manor as well as around her. She’s thankfully rather amiable toward you, and is willing to talk to you if you want her company. You’re kind and smart, she thinks, so your presence is wonderful for the Trancy Estate. There will probably be tears when you leave, coupled with a long embrace… the entire household will feel your absence, as will her own black heart. … Come back and visit if you can, won’t you?

Well, don’t that just beat all, it sure does! She’s never heard of such a wild story before! Though, she does suppose that given the Phantomhive servants and their master as a whole… not much is truly that far-fetched. She could certainly believe someone from the future either coming back to do research on the master, or going through an accident which landed them here. So, for as long as you’re here, far as she’s concerned, you’re welcome. If you want to tag along as she works, (maybe even help her? You don’t have to, though!!), she’d be very grateful for the company. The days always go faster when one isn’t all by themself, after all. Despite her strong will, if you do end up needing to return to your time… she’ll cry whilst giving you a final hug. She’s going to miss having you around so much; you’ve been such a joy to have round the Estate, it just won’t be the same without you!

Aah… isn’t this a curious situation? A lost little lamb, wandering into the veritable death trap that is Victorian London. Moreover, right smack dab in the middle of households like Phantomhive and Trancy is possibly the worst sector of the Victorian era you could have stumbled into. He finds it quite amusing, in the sense that this is a scenario he’s never encountered before. You’re offering him something rather unique; for that, he will easily obey whatever you wish him to, within reason. He’s tasked with looking after you just like with the rest of the estate, so that’s precisely what he does. With each minute that passes, he watches the scene play out, intrigued by the way you interact with your environment and the people around you. If only you could stay a bit longer… you’re such lovely company, after all. But he understands the concept of returning to where one truly belongs. He will, however, wish you a surprisingly heartfelt farewell if you must go back. He might even be sincere.

Hm, how strange. They’ve never heard of such a thing. Are you perhaps here for a reason? Are you interested in their master, or their coworkers, or them, or someone else? Was it an accident that brought you here? At first the three of them are indifferent to you simply because they think you aren’t interested in them. They serve you well enough because Alois and Hannah told them to, and it’s only after you really start talking to them that they realize… you’re actually a pleasant person. You’re actually sort of nice to have round the house, whether because you help to mellow Alois out or whether you look after all the estate’s residents or whether you’re just a source of stimulation. These three don’t fight over you per say… they rather prefer taking turns. Sometimes you help Thompson in the garden, sometimes you spend time with Timber in the kitchen, and sometimes you accompany Canterbury with everything else that needs done. They’re all happy to have you at their sides, which also means they get sullen if it comes time for you to head back to your own time. Although they may not show it readily, they do seek comfort in each other once you’re gone, because you added something… special to the whole manor.

[cinnamonest]

Diluc Ragnvindr - Yandere Profile

Yall are so kind and I am so undeserving hhhhh

If you stand idly by that flower girl in Mondstadt her idle line is something like "All I can think about is Diluc" And honestly same

This man exudes bde I'm sorry I just... It is a known FACT that Diluc is packing and I refuse to believe otherwise, lord have mercy I'm bout to SIMP

tws: yandere, mentions of violence

tws (below cut): noncon, kinda misogynistic in 1 part

------

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Acutely aware, and in the beginning, frustrated with his own self. He's very much a loner type of guy, and he likes it that way -- in his mind, people are distractions.

He doesn't talk to you too much, but you'll slowly and subtly notice his presence with increasing frequency. He hovers. Silent, but intimidating. He's always there, in the background. Somehow, everywhere you go, you can spot him somewhere if you try, and even if you don't see him, you know someone is watching you, from the skin crawling feeling of eyes on you. It will never go away, and it's easily enough to drive you to paranoia.

In reality, he'd like to talk, really, but he doesn't know how. For the first time in his life, he actually has the urge to speak with someone, not for his own desire to speak so much as speak with you- to learn about you, to hear your voice. But the poor thing has no idea what to say. He's used to just going about his day and only speaking to others when they need something from him.

When he does talk to you, he finds himself even enjoying the silliest and most trivial of things you say. Normally he hates small talk, and he's normally annoyed by anything outside of very serious matters, but even if you're raving about something he has no interest in, he's happy to listen just because it's you.

He's fairly aware, too. Not a delusional for the most part, and he's honestly a bit afraid of rejection - he knows he's not the most pleasant or charming person to be around, and certainly not the best conversationalist. He tries to make up for it in thinking that his money, status, and protective ability can be something he can use to draw you in, so he makes sure to subtly and frequently remind you of those things.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Eventually, it's inevitable. It will happen, it's just a matter of time. His reasoning is less about your fragility and safety, even if he pretends it is, and more of a selfish thing. He doesn't want to be, and he'll certainly feel guilty for it, but he's a silently jealous person. Hearing you talk to others, seeing you smile at others, it drives him up the wall. Even during the day, he can't focus, thinking of what you're doing, who you're with, what you're doing with that person, and so on. He can't get anything accomplished, and people notice something is wrong with him. Really, it won't be a very long time at all.

He's not a very good manipulator, and he can't really think of a good reason to get you to walk into the winery backrooms on your own, so as barbaric as it may feel, he'll settle for the old fashioned way, just taking you, probably when you're walking all by yourself late at night. He is very intelligent, and will most likely formulate a way of making you seen responsible for some crime upon your disappearance, to discourage you from leaving, and to make it seem less mysterious when you disappear. People will assume that the darknight hero got to you. And, well, they’re not wrong.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

Initially, he's watchful, staying at the winery so that you can't get far without him noticing. He'll cancel his plans elsewhere and make sure he's never more than sight distance away from the building. With time, he'll have to leave, and when he does, he'll probably invest in some very high quality locks to keep you in. Should that prove to not be enough, he'll have to use chains to keep you attached to the wall, instead. Needless to say, it's difficult.

If you manage an attempt, he'll be angry, sure, but he understands why. The first time, at least. Don't push it. If you manage to keep trying, his sympathy for you will slowly erode with each successive attempt, and soon he'll run out of mercy, and decide maybe just forgiving you isn't enough, and you actually need to learn a lesson to prevent this from happening again.

"Again? You really... Really don't give up, do you. This is the fourth time now... You've really pushed it, you know, I've tried to be nice. If you're not gonna get that, I'll make you understand."

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Canonically speaking, he's fairly good at predicting the actions of others. He's clever like that. However, he's not the best at reading faces. As far as lies go, he will detect it maybe 80% of the time, but you can probably get away with a bit - once he catches you doing it once, though, he'll suspect you from there on out, and be much less likely to buy your lies.

When it comes to manipulation, he's one of the ones where it's like, he kinda knows, and lets it happen anyway, if it's for the sake of you being happy with him. That, and he's just flat out weak to your smiles and begging for little things. He's got his limits, though, so you'd be wise to only use this sparingly and not push it.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Protective to the maximum degree. Probably the worst of genshin boys.

Absolutely zero contact with the outside. No family, no friends, he might even go to the extent of faking your death to ensure there's not even anyone who will look for you.

Unlike Childe, Zhongli, or Albedo that I've mentioned as allowing you for walks or outside visits... That's not happening with Diluc. No, he's insanely protective, to the point that you very well might not see sunlight again, except through a window.

And he gets that it can get depressing, he really does, it's just the one thing he can't do. He'll try to substitute it, get you nice large windows to let the sun in that you can sit in front of - provided he's there - and maybe after a while build a little screened-in porch for the winery that you can walk around on - again, provided he's right there. You really can't expect him to let you out there when you're alone. What if someone saw you and tried to hurt you?

You get the feeling it's less about keeping anything else out, and more about keeping you in, though.

He's actually good about letting you do things for yourself, though. He won't restrain you from cooking or kitchen utensils or anything like that, unless you do something stupid like try to hurt him or yourself, in which case it'll be a revoked privilege.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Initially, he tries to go easy on rules, as part of his attempt to make you more accepting. He'll keep you more restrained for the first little while, and later on you'll be allowed to walk, but certain sections of the building will be off limits. He's fairly simple - be obedient, stay inside, don't try to fight. He'll invent new ones based on your behaviors as time goes on, but for the most part, he doesn't want to control you too much.

He fears getting too mad and making you scared of him, so, he struggles to punish you initially. He's probably willing to let quite a bit slide, but once he senses you're taking advantage of that, he'll put an end to it. Once again, he can thank the fact that he's naturally intimidating - he'll grab your jaw and force you to look at him, and honestly, just the look on his face is enough to send chills down your spine. If you're persistent, he's not able to leave you all alone and isolate you, no, he can't handle being away from you for that long. He'll appeal to the punishment of boredom, tying you to one spot and giving you nothing to entertain yourself with will get you to crack in a fairly short amount of time.

Humiliation works well, too. You're all alone except for him, you don't need clothes. So if you want them, you'll have to behave.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

This man only has to look at people to send them running. He's very grateful for his scowl once he realizes the power it holds. You'll be none the wiser as to why everyone you meet seems to end up avoiding you, why people get nervous when you approach, why you can walk into a public place and it will clear out within minutes of you walking through the door. It's ok, though, since you have him to go to for your problems. He'll shrug and tell you he doesn't know why it happens to you, but it's no big deal, you don't have to worry about it, because you don't need them anyway, right?

He's not above having chats with people either. If they're not driven off by the glares, he'll give them another chance by spelling out very clearly that they should back off.

With persistent offenders, though, he has to come up with other means. He's not a delusional, and he knows deep down that this is selfish, that they're not really doing anything wrong per se, but his anger is violent and ultimately overrides any guilt. He'll find a way to make them out to be criminals, spies, or some other form of bad person, and they'll meet their fate at the hands of Mondstadt's mysterious nighttime vigilante.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

His default personality is... Irritated. He scowls a lot, he gets exasperated easy - even if he tries to be a bit more pleasant for you. His irritation is so common that seeing genuine anger is a bit rarer.

When he does, though, it's one of the worst. To really, really make him mad, you'd have to be exceptionally, intentionally bratty to the point of antagonism - he's understanding and lucid enough to understand why you fight him, why you try to run, but do it over and over relentlessly, or just be a childish brat and ignore his warnings, and he'll snap. His voice bellows when he's mad, it's deep and terrifying and echoes off the walls, his eyes narrow and he stomps heavily with every step. He'll grab you by the arm hard enough to bruise, and if you refuse to follow and dig your heels in, he'll just roughly swing you onto his shoulder and carry you.

He has to exert the anger in some way, though. He's not like some yanderes that can be talked down or calmed, or are going to go easy on you if you apologize and beg. Once the anger is there, it's there until he physically takes it out in some way.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

It depends, really, because he's highly lucid, so he has very little delusions about you. Unlike many of the others, he's willing to acknowledge your mental competence, and if you're intelligent and have life experience he'll acknowledge it. He won't recognize physical capability, though, since you're nothing compared to his strength. If you are a capable, independent person, he won't delude himself into thinking otherwise. It will, however, have a negative effect, probably the opposite of what you hope for - he's going to feel a bit intimidated by it, really, because if you're capable and independent, you don't need him as much. He's more likely to find ways to force your dependency on him, if so, but deep down he knows you're an equal on a mental level, and it's frustrating.

Now, otherwise - if you're a little more on the ditzy, airheaded side - it will be below. He's realistic, again, and if you genuinely do fall into the category of being naive and a bit dumb, he'll recognize it. He feels more secure in your dependency, and he's more likely to baby you this way, and will absolutely be more protective.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He really wants you to. He's not sure if he deserves it, though. He's acutely, painfully aware of how awful the things he's done are, and to top it all off, he knows that he should wish he was a better man that had self control, yet... He doesn't. He can't lie to himself and pretend to even have a shred of regret, even if he feels guilt. If he hadn't done all those things, you wouldn't be here with him like this, and even though he knows it's selfish, so very, very selfish, knowing that the horrible things he did got him the result he wanted makes it worth it. And given the opportunity to go back, he'd do it again.

He wants you to genuinely love him, and even though he struggles with human affection and communication, he'll try his best to be sweet to you, say nice things, try to be less irritable, try to talk more.

But if dependency, isolation-induced attachment love is the best he can get, well, that's still love.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

He likes to just... Spend time in your presence. He's still ultimately not much for talking, he runs out of things to say very quickly and even if you're not talking, he's very very happy to be around you. If you're being cold towards him even, he wants to just sit there and be beside you, if you get up and sit on the other side of the room, or walk to another room (provided you have the privilege to do so), he'll follow you wherever like a little lost puppy and just silently sit right back down next to you again. He soaks in your presence like sunlight, it makes him happy.

If you show him affection, especially after an abduction or when stockholm syndrome starts to set in, it's one of the few times you'll see him smile. His smile is soft and faint, and it's less his mouth so much as his eyes that seem to light up. If you show him affection, you can eventually reach a very vulnerable, very soft side of him. He keeps up walls for everyone else, and he kind of desperately wants someone he doesn't have to do that with, so he'll crumble to your affection fairly quickly, once he's assured of your love.

Also, he's one of the ones who fully understands why you're mad. He gets it, he's lucid, and he honestly knows how awful what he's doing is. He still hopes you'll get over it, though, and if confinement and isolation except for him is what it takes to achieve that... So be it. Rather than justifying his actions, he acknowledges what he's done, but he's aware that psychologically, he's already long past the point of no return, and he can't bring himself to stop.

“I know this wasn’t... what you wanted, and, I know it’s, I know this was really, really bad, but I only did it for your sake. If you just... try to get used to it... maybe you can be happy, if you try.”

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

High, but embarrassed as all hell. He likes to maintain a very respectable and serious image, and people knowing that behind that neutral poker face is a brain running through nasty, nasty fantasies would not be very conductive to that image.

And that's what he does - working the bar gets very, very slow sometimes, and there's not much to do but sit around and let his mind wander. The more bored he gets, the more involved in these fantasies he becomes, and sometimes you might have to tap him on the shoulder to snap him out of it.

He feels guilty, really, for how he feels about you, and he knows that it's wrong and violating... But. But if you don't know, it won't hurt you, now will it? Nothing about the fact that he just thinks about bending you over the bar tables and fucking you raw is going to actually do anything bad. It's harmless.

He won't be touchy or perverse towards you by any means, and while that's nice, it causes something of a... Buildup. A lot of urges and needs have gone unmet, a lot of desperation to just feel you skin that has never been filled, and the thing about buildups is that when you reach a certain point they'll eventually burst, which is going to be what happens once you're in your new home.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He's moderate. He'd like you to want it, he's not highly sadistic and doesn't get off to your struggling/crying the way Childe or Kaeya would. But, in the end he's very set on what he wants, and if you're not open to it, he's not going to wait long. As aforementioned, he's got a lot of pent-up need that has gone unchecked, and while he normally strives for self control, at the point of kidnapping you, he's built up enough sexual frustration that he's not going to be very patient. Again, he's not going to be mean about it, he's more the type to just kiss your forehead and mutter a few reassuring things, even as you hiss at the pain of being impaled. That's another issue - he's convinced you might just be intimidated by the size, so he'll keep reassuring you that it's not going to last long, your body just needs time to adjust, even though you feel like you're being split in two.

He's content with knowing that, even if you mentally aren't wanting it, your bodily reactions show that you're clearly not repulsed or anything.

He's also another one to use that very thing against you, much like Albedo. He can feel you twitch and clamp down when you're close and he'll tell you that if you love him you'll cum, and if you don't love him, you won't. But no amount of trying to bring yourself down is enough to override the overwhelming stimulation.

He's also one to get rougher/more intense with time. At first, he's a bit afraid of hurting you, and he's not entirely familiar with how this all goes, and even can be a bit prudish and reserved. But the more he fucks you, the more and more he realizes he really likes having a sense of control and dominance over you, and just how nice it feels to come home when he's frustrated from a bad day and just fuck that energy out. Once he realizes you're not going to break or anything, you'll notice him gradually getting rougher and harder with time, until it becomes a norm.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Stomach bulging/size kink

He's not normally an outwardly prideful person. His pride is more of a silent aloof type of pride, rather than a smug showoff type. He's not one to emphasize his positive traits just to look good. But, fuck, if there isn't something very, very pleasing about being able to physically see his dick making a bulge on your stomach every time he fucks into you. He'll make sure you don't close your eyes, grab your hair and pull your head down so you're forced to watch it fill you more than you can take, over and over.

He doesn't want to hurt you, really, but of all the things to whimper about, you just had to squeal that it's too big, that it hits your cervix, that it's splitting you apart, and as much as he really wants to be a good guy, you're really making it difficult. Hearing that just breaks something primal in him and makes him want to fuck you harder.

It's one of the few things he can actually get smug about, watching you clutch your gut and whimper from bruising and soreness even long after, and as time goes on he might lose enough shame about it all to make a smug comment. He knows he should feel bad. But again, you make it hard to.

Breeding

It's a possession thing, really. There's something so utterly satisfying about just watching cum drip out of you, listening to you whimper whenever you feel it filling you up. It's kind of cute, when he tells you he'll cum inside you and you panic, you squeal and wriggle and unintentionally clench down hard enough to make that happen, you practically just milk the cum out of him when you do.

Forced feminization?/housewife kink/I dont know what to call it but hear me out dammit

He has in his brain this idea of a perfect little housewife and you're going to fit that model whether you want to or not. When he breaks into goes back to your old apartment to bring clothes for your new home he'll only pick the most frilly, feminine of all the things you owned, and if you don't have too many, he'll buy ones for you.

He just likes the idea of having a nice, sweet little wife to come back to, especially after being so stressed with whatever bullshit he's had to put up with that day. Really, any darling in captivity is kinda sorta filling that role, but he's got a very specific image in his mind of you being very... Domestic. Submissive. Frilly little clothes and aprons and cleaning things and making food, it's very cute and gives him a weird sense of dominance that will inevitably turn to arousal - something about the whole ownership and submission aspect of seeing you walk around in those clothes, doing your little chores makes him really want to grab you and bend you over the nearest surface and just - well, you get the idea.

And he's not gonna listen to your whining, either, even if you're a naturally tomboyish person. You could have been the roughest adventurer there was out there, all ragged and getting covered in scrapes and climbing mountains and fighting monsters, but that's in the past, now. Now, is time for you to give that lifestyle up, in favor of a better one, one that will make you happier... if you just let it. 

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He's yes and no, but mostly yes in theory. It fits into his little housewife fantasy and he feels it would be a good way to keep you attached to him. It would make you less likely to leave, it would give you something to do all day, you'd be happy. He's a bit worried about his own capabilities, though. He's not super empathetic and he's not very talkative. Ultimately, it would probably end up an accident that results from the aforementioned breeding kink.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Another one kind of like Razor, he's not gonna think it out too much, but holy fuck, if he's mad, just fucking feels like a punishment in and of itself. You'll realize just how much he's holding back on the regular when you see what it's like when he hold nothing back. It's bruising, it's brutal, and it's a little frightening to witness that kind of raw strength. He'd be one to pick you up into the air completely, holding your whole body up with his arms, forcing you to cling to him so as to not fall while he bounces you up and down on him. And really, once you account for the affect of gravity, so it's slamming into you at unprecedented force, and fuck, it's likely horribly painful, even if that pleasure is still there.

If he's exceptionally mad, he's another one willing to belt you, and while he'll certainly get off to it, it's something he'll only do when he genuinely has a reason to punish you.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Thighs. He likes hooking them over his shoulders, grabbing the fleshy soft parts with his hands, running his hands up and down the sides. One day, one you're comfortable enough, he'd really like to just lay his head down on them like a pillow, they look so soft. And he loves looking at them too, loves things that show just enough of the curve of your hips to your legs and the soft skin underneath.

[guardianofrivendell]

Broken Promises

Fíli x OC Tullaina

A/N: So I said I was in an angsty mood and unfortunately Tullaina is the victim of that mood. 

Warnings: OOC Fíli under the influence of dragon sickness, angst, angst, angst (I’M not SORRY), Kíli being a good friend 

Complete and utter silence. Only the soft sound of paper sliding over paper could be heard when she turned a page every few minutes. 

Tullaina savoured these rare moments where she could spend some time alone, curled up with a book in one of her many secret hiding spots. 

When they finally settled down in Erebor, she had spent her first few months exploring the mountain, in search of quiet little nooks and corners like this one. 

Her quiet time alone was short-lived however. Hurried footsteps could be heard in the distance, coming closer at an alarming pace.

“Tullaina?” A familiar voice called out.

Tullaina sighed. One less secret hiding spot, so it seemed. 

She spotted Kíli standing beneath the high window sill she was resting on, his eyes wide with worry.

“Tulls! Come down from there,” he shouted, waving at her to spur her on. “Come on, hurry up!”

“What is it?” she asked him, and she jumped down with practised ease. If he was trying to persuade her into pranking Thorin again, by Durin’s beard, she was definitely going to give him a piece of her mind. A very pointy piece. In the form of an arrow in his butt.

“It’s Fíli,” he breathed.

Her blood ran ice cold and she was certain the color had vanished from her face. There were so many reasons why Kíli could be distraught about his brother's well-being and each and every single one of them was bad. 

She followed her best friend through the corridors of the mountain, all the way to the Royal wing. The guards stationed there nodded at her when they passed, they knew her well, she was courting the crown prince after all. Tullaina had refused a room in the Royal Wing, feeling as if she didn’t deserve it, and instead settled for a chamber with the rest of the Company, a few hallways further down. Once Fíli and her were married, she was going to relocate to the royal chambers, but for now, she felt more at peace where she was.

Kíli halted in front of Fíli’s chambers. 

“Will you finally tell me what’s wrong?” Tullaina asked him. “Is he hurt?”

He was completely fine this morning, he would spend the entire day doing his royal duties. That could hardly be considered dangerous, but you never know. He was a Durin after all. 

“It came true…” he said, his voice low, as if he was telling her a secret. “He wanted to try it, even though Uncle said it wasn’t a good idea. But you know him Tulls, he always wants to prove himself. A-and it went well, he didn’t feel anything at all the first few times he went there but now… You have to get him out of it, Tulls! He’ll listen to you!”

“Kíli, what are you talking about?” she questioned him. Why couldn’t he get to the point for once in his life? 

“It’s the dragon sickness…”

She didn’t wait another moment, her hands flew to the doorknobs and she pushed the heavy double doors open. It could not be true. He couldn’t… he promised.

Fíli stood leaning over his desk, in full regalia, something he normally hated. When he had to wear it to formal events, he never stopped complaining. How it was too heavy, how it made him stand out, he didn’t like being the center of attention, ... Now he seemed to wear it with pride.

He was studying the documents in front of him as if his life depended on it. His facial expression was stoic, but his eyes were full of fire. 

“Fíli?”

His head snapped up and his eyes darkened as soon as he saw who dared to disturb him. Tullaina had to fight the urge to take a step back. This wasn’t her Fíli. Kíli was right...

“You!” he hissed. “What are you doing in my chambers? How dare you come in here!”

“Fíli, I’m your friend,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “I’ve been here plenty of times. On your invitation. We’re-we’re courting, remember?”

“It’s Prince Fili to you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve heard me.”

“Fíli- prince Fíli,” she corrected herself, making a small curtsy, even though she didn’t like how he was talking to her. It was best not to antagonize him when he was like this. Kíli was right, she might be the only one to snap him out of it. “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me for a walk? Some fresh air will do us both some good.”

He snorted, but it sounded off. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said, pointing at her while he rounded his desk. “While we’re away, my brother has the chance to snatch the documents and gather information. He’s setting you up to this, didn’t he? He is jealous, he always has been. But I’m not letting him take my crown,” he mumbled the last words to himself, before he crossed his arms behind his back and started pacing back and forth.

“You don’t mean that!” Tullaina gasped. She never heard Fíli say one bad word about his brother before. Well, that was a lie, but it was always in jest, he never meant it. 

He strode towards her until he was standing right in front of her. She balled her fists to keep her composure. This was Fíli. He would never hurt her, even if he was under the influence of the gold. He would not hurt her.

“You’re working with him, aren’t you! You conspire against me!”

“I would never do that, Fíli. I love you!”

He swirled around at her words. His voice changed, it deepened but instead of being warm like honey, it felt as if the room turned colder with every spoken word. 

“You don’t love me! What a fool I was! Oh, you tricked me into believing you loved me, while in reality you’re in love with the crown! With Prince Fíli!” he shouted, opening his arms to show himself in all his royal glory. “Not with Fíli, son of Dís!”

“Please, Fíli! This isn’t you, it’s the dragon sickness. Please, you have to wake up! Open your eyes!” Tullaina pleaded. In her head she kept repeating that it wasn’t the real him, he didn’t mean what he was saying. 

“Oh but my dearest Tullaina, my eyes are finally open! Isn’t it odd that you never told me you loved me until after we reclaimed Erebor? Not before I officially earned my title?” He tilted his head. “You want the gold, don’t you?”

“No!” she cried, now fighting back the tears. She wanted to leave, before Fíli could say something that really hurt her but Kíli was counting on her to fix this. She had to stay, she had to try and get him back. 

She looked at him and smiled, trying to put him at ease. He always said how he loved her smile. 

“Remember when you told me you loved me for the first time? How nervous you were? And the kiss we shared? It was definitely not our first kiss,” Tullaina chuckled. She pleaded with her eyes for him to remember that moment, to remember how he felt. His feelings for her should be strong enough to bring him back. 

Fíli was struggling. She saw it and her heart filled with hope. He was coming back to her. 

“Do you remember our first real kiss?” she tried. “You wanted to show everyone I was yours.”

The corners of his lips twitched and the wrinkles around his eyes scrunched a little. He remembered. Just as Tullaina thought he was back to his own self, he shook his head and the darkness in his eyes returned. 

“Our courtship? You can forget about that! Who would want you,” he mocked her. “You don’t even look like a proper Dwarf! You’re lucky we’re allowing you to stay here. You know you don’t belong!”

“Fíli, that’s enough!” Kíli’s voice boomed from the doorway. 

He had seen how Tullaina slowly lost her composure, the tears silently rolling over her cheeks, her lower lip trembling and he could no longer stand there and do nothing. 

He watched her bow to Fíli, straighten her back and although her voice was shaking, she spoke with enough confidence to get her message across. “I have loved you since Ered Luin. I’ve always been there for you, every step of the way, like you were there for me. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. So if your Highness wants me gone, out of his halls and his bed, I would not dare go against his wishes.”

Tullaina turned around and dashed out of the room. When she passed Kíli in the doorway, he saw how devastated she was. It broke his heart and he couldn’t help feeling responsible for it. It was him who pushed her to do this, he knew it could go horribly wrong and still he thought it was a good idea to involve Tullaina. He really thought she would be the key to break the spell. 

He turned to his brother, who was still standing in the exact same spot, his expression emotionless. Kíli felt rage burning in his chest. Fíli promised he would never hurt her. When he confessed his feelings for Tullaina to him, that was Kíli’s only condition. Don’t hurt her. At least now he could keep his promise to him.

“Dragon sickness or not, I swore to you that if you’d ever hurt Tullaina, you would have to deal with me,” he roared while making his way to Fíli. “And I always keep my promises!”

He swung his right arm and his fist collided with Fíli’s cheekbone before the Heir of Erebor had the chance to react. 

Kíli expected him to blow up after that, but to his surprise Fíli stood frozen in place. After a few seconds he slowly lifted his hand and touched his cheek, wincing when his fingers made contact with the skin beneath his eye.

Fíli stared at his younger brother in disbelief. Kíli noticed how his kind blue eyes had returned. The darkness was gone. His brother was back. 

Then something happened that Kíli never witnessed before. Thick, wet tears formed in Fíli’s eyes before he closed them, causing the tears to fall. It didn’t take long before Fíli was sobbing. Kíli didn’t hesitate and hugged his brother in an attempt to comfort him. 

After a few minutes Fíli seemed to calm down and finally opened his bloodshot eyes. 

“What have I done?”

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​ @kata1803​ @entishramblings​ @artsywaterlily​ @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose​ @marvelschriss​ @kumqu4t​ @myrin123​ @dark-angel-is-back​ @the-fandoms-georgie​ @lathalea​ @xxbyimm​ @sokkasdarling​ @katethewriter​ @aredhel-of-gondolin​ @leethology​ @elvish-sky​ @moony-artnstuff​ @kirenia15​ @hey-its-nonny​ @moarfandomtrash​ @beenovel​ @cassiabaggins​ @shethereadinghobbit​ @laurfilijames​ @anjhope1​

[mugi-chan]

hi! I like your "vice dorm head : who are you talking to?" headcanon. may I request for the same content but with the dorm leaders Instead? thank you🖤

ლ  Tea order: Dorm heads: Who are you talking to? 

ლ  Warnings: None!

ლ Tea shop notes: I actually really love doing the vice dorm leader one, and I was actually do a dorm head one as well but you beat me to it! I decided to make it more fluffy then angst since i’m not in the mood to make angst.  I also wanted to try something new with the headcanons. I hope you like it!

Rules this rule that so much rules! Sometimes you wonder how can people from heartslabyul survive with this! Riddle isn’t so strict with rules ever since his overblot, but there are some tiny rules he’ll throw a fit about. And that’s what happened

You broke the tiniest of rules you had no idea about, Heck not even Trey or Cater knew about! Riddle was lecturing you about how “rules are important” and “we need to follow the rules” 

Yada yada all so boring 

But there was this one thing, this one thing Riddle said that to him he didn’t think would hurt you…butt it did It really hurt you

He was mid lecture when you just got up and left. Trey and Cater were surprised by this, no had ever had the guts to just get up and leave mid lecture! This made Riddle mad, he was yelling out your name and demanding you to come back But did you? nope , what riddle said was horrible and you took it really personally 

The next day Riddle was not mad but confused, what did he say to make you just leave? Was it the rule? Or was it something else? Riddle wanted to confront you about this

He saw you and Trey talking to each other, happy as a bee. When he got there he asked you a simple question “(y/n) my dear why did you leave?” No response, trey was waiting for your response but nothing, nothing at all 

Riddle asked the question one more time but still no response, “Uh (y/n) Riddle is trying to talk to you” Trey said. “Hm? What do you mean Trey-senpai there is no one here” You waved your hand around trying to prove Trey your point, and at that point Riddle just…  left 

You two will give each the other silent treatment as you are both stubborn people. It will take Trey and Cater to convince both of you to come talk to each other. Even then it would be just you two sitting there not looking at each other. Eventually you two will speak after so much convincing from Trey. 

When you two finally do talk you explained to Riddle why you were so angry at him and how it really hurt you. Riddle will apologize after realizing his mistakes, along with you as what you did was probably pretty childish

Leona can have a big mouth sometimes. He’ll say something without even thinking about it, and sometimes those words can hurt people. 

That’s what happened, you failed a test and it was really bringing you down. Jack tried to cheer you up but it was no use. You went to Leona for cuddles since normally he wouldn’t care. When you walked in you saw Leona looking out the window looking distressed. “Leona, what’s the matter?” Leona looked over his shoulder seeing you make home in his room. “Stuff, you seem pretty distressed, what’s wrong my princess?” 

You didn’t respond and just rolled around his bed, Leona just sighed and joined you on the bed. 

You eventually told him what happened about the test and all, and Leona’s response was to laugh. Laugh and belittle you for worrying so much about it. Did Leona think you would take it seriously? No, but did you? Yes 

When Leona was laughing you just got up and left almost in tears, you knew this was going to happen! Leona never really cared about school but he should at least understand your feelings about it! 

Leona didn’t think much about this for weeks. When you started to ignore him just brushed it past him. But when you didn’t come for daily cuddles now that’s the problem. He confronts you about this but gets completely donowall by you. When someone mentions that THE Savanaclaw dorm headis talking to you, you would just respond with “huh who’s that?” 

Well two can play this game. Leona ignores you as well, it was so antagonizing seeing you two not talking to each other. It takes a lot of convincing from Ruggie to even get you two in the same room. When you do get in the same room though it’s a different story. Leona would have to think about everything he said and once he pinpoint about him laughing about your test score he would apologize. Once he does you would apologize as well for ignoring him. I mean you can admit that you miss you two’s cuddle session since those were also really nice. 

But all in all you two would make up with cuddle sessions and kisses everywhere. You can explore what happens next.

Ahh yes Mr.Smartypants, he knows everything. Well at least he thought he knew everything. When you were talking about something Azul mentioned something that you told him you didn’t like talking about. When those words came out of Azul’s mouth you were shocked and angry by this. You told him you didn’t want to talk about it and yet he brought it up! 

The twins were watching the whole situation go down. Seeing your aura go from a nice happy to yeah i’m out. Which that’s what you did, you got up and left the mostro lounge. Azul called after you wondering why his wonderful (s/o) is leaving him be? But there was no time for him to think about that as more customers were coming and needed to sit and serve. He’ll just ask about this tomorrow

Well tomorrow comes and you completely ignore him. His insecurities skyrocketed, some many thoughts and questions ran through his head. What did he do? Did he say something? Did you want some privacy? What did he do wrong? But having to keep that calm and cool persona he would play along with you. A simple good morning and that’s it nothing else. It did hurt him to be so cold to you but if you're not going to communicate so will he. 

This all changes though when he waits by your class to walk with you, you didn’t even look at him and just walk right past him with your friends. Azul was even more confused and tried to catch up. He asked you a question but you completely donowall him, your friends mention that your boyfriend was trying to talk to you. Your response was simply “hm? I didn’t hear anything.” and continue walking leaving Azul alone in shock. 

Overthinking everything he came to the conclusion that you hated him, and that completely broke him. Jade mentioned why not go apologize, he may not know what he did but he can win your heart again right? 

I mean I guess it worked?? He came to your house with your favorite flowers and chocolate. When you opened the door you were about to close it but Azul quickly stopped you and apologized for everything.  He was really sincere with his apologies that you accepted it with a warm hug. 

Ahhh thank goodness was all Azul said while almost on the brink of tears hugged you back. Making sure not to crush those pretty flowers.

This poor baby boy, he accidentally talked about something you didn’t like talking about it! You mentioned to him in the beginning of the relationship what you did and did not like to talk about since it can be sensitive to you. But this poor boy was too excited to talk to you. He forgot about it and accidentally said it. The shock and horror on your face when you left the room was something that confused Kalim. Was it something he said? 

Yes yes it was, was all Jamil said when asked about it. Clearly Jamil and you talk about this as well since sometimes Kalim can forget about what you said and it’s up to Jamil to put him in his place. Once Jamil explained to Kalim what he did wrong Kalim would immediately go find you and try to apologize. 

Well you weren’t ready to see Kalim and again so when he appeared at your window with his magic carpet you just shut your curtains and went to bed. What you didn’t know is that Kalim was still waiting for you to answer. He waited like a patient puppy but had to be dragged away by Jamil. 

Next day wasn’t that good either. You were completely ignoring Kalim and Kalim was like a lost puppy following you anywhere you go. Kalim would try to talk to you and apologize for everything but you just gave him the gold shoulder. 

It took every strength in you to stay mad at him. He’s so cute and adorable. How can you be mad at him? Plus it was an honest mistake and Kalim was trying to apologize. 

Eventually you cracked and accepted his apology. A strict “please don’t say that again” is all Kalim needed before smothering you with kisses and cuddles like always.

Vil is an influencer and has to keep up his appearance. We all know that, and being Vil’s s/o you need to be either up to his standards or keep the relationship hidden. It’s hard sometimes, sometimes you just want to cuddle and love Vil. Today you just wanted to relax with Vil but sadly Vil’s busy schedule does not allow him to rest. Vil’s busy schedule stressed him out. 

You were not so confident in your appearance as much as Vil calls you beautiful and pretty it still doesn’t feel enough. Your semi self conscious and Vil stressed out cause a fume to happen. Vil nit picked you on your appearance even though you were just relaxing and not going anywhere. You even say that but Vil keeps complaining about your appearance, soon you just got too tired to fight back and left. Straight up left Vil mid rant, Vil probably didn’t even know you left until he stopped. 

Vil was offended that you would just leave him there without saying anything. The gull! He didn’t think anything wrong in what he had said, everything was true. It was just a criticism of your beauty, nothing wrong with that. At least that’s what he thought, but it had the exact opposite effect. The next day Vil acts like nothing happened which makes you really mad. You thought he didn’t care about your feelings and deeply hurted you. Now it wasn’t just about the comment he made about your appearance it’s the belief he didn’t care about you! 

Vil approached you and started a normal conversation with you not giving him the slightest attention. A cold shoulder, dono wall, whatever you want to call ignoring someone completely. Rook who is always by Vil’s side was telling you “Roi de Poison” is trying to talk to you, you just brushed him off and mumbled you had to go do something. Now this let an audible gasp from Rook as Vil looked even more offended. Fine if you want to ignore him like this so will he. Although he does that most of the time…

You two may not talk to each other for almost months until it’s just useless to stay mad at Vil forever. You just have to do what couples do, talk to each other. When you do, Vil would expect an apology from you before he ever apologized to you.  Buttt if you explain it real nicely to Vil why you were so angry about what he said he will apologize first and will actually understand sometimes. Hey most of these dorm heads are really stubborn and sometimes won’t admit their own faults. 

But Vil still love you, he may never admit it but he really does. When you ignored him the first time that really did hurt him. 

Being a Shroud is hard enough the pressure to be the perfect “heir”, some people don't even want to be near him because of his family’s name, and the meaning behind the Shroud name always looms over Idia. 

It’s so stressful but not at the same time, being an introvert means that he doesn't have to meet said people who don’t even want to be near him and can stay in his own room where he can control the setting. But recently his family has been pressuring him to start getting more serious with the family business since he is a third year and will have to decide what internship he will do as a fourth year. This started to stress him out and wearing his patience thin. 

Sadly you were there at the wrong time when Idia lost his temper, you tried to calm him down and tell him everything will be okay but that didn’t help Idia at all. He would be ranting pacing back and forth, his hair bright red in flames. You kept telling him everything is fine and that he has you. At that moment Idia snapped, spilling every single thing that he had a problem with you and how it really is annoying. 

You know he was angry and not in the right of mind but hurt, it really did. So you just quietly walked out of his room not saying a word. Idia never noticed you left until he finished ranting. He quickly realized his mistake and wanted to apologize, but reading all the mangas and playing all those rpg games he knows that you may need some time. What he didn’t know was that this time by yourself would take weeks, and those were some agonizing weeks. 

Eventually Idia worked up the courage to go apologize to you, he got his apology idea from a certain manga series was reading. As corny as it was, it was really sweet and touching but he didn’t address the situation at hand. The awful words that he said about you during his rant. So you completely ignore his apology. Ortho would ask if you're okay since Idia was trying to talk to you, but all you said was “hm? Ortho what do you mean we’re the only ones here” that shattered Idia and he sulked away all courage he had was now gone. 

Now more agonizing weeks for Idia to plan the perfect way to apologize to you. He was scanning through all his shoujo manga to find the “perfect apology” and he did! Now time to practice and put it into action. 

After some practicing he felt confident enough to do it. He saw you walking in a very empty hallway. Great! Alone time and no one will for sure interrupt you two. You walked quietly back to your dorm and when suddenly BAM and hand stopped right in front of your face. Turning to face who just slammed their hand on the wall you were met with the shy eyes of Idia. You just sighed and duck underneath his arm walking away, but you were stopped by a soft grip on your wrist. You turn to face to Idia, you were about to rip your hand out of his grip until you saw how soft and shy his face was. So you gave him a chance and Idia spilled out a heartfelt apology and explained his wrong doings and asked for your forgiveness. It was really sweet that how can you not accept his apology! He apologized for what he said and complimented you so much that it was sweet. Although you were still mad you decided to accept him back and he immediately asked if you wanted a cuddle, because he was so socially drained.

Being in a relationship is scary. Especially being with someone who is not exactly like you. That’s the problem Malleus was facing right now, he wants you to be happy and safe around him and that means he may mess up every once in a while. That’s what happened recently. Malleus was talking about something and then a topic popped up that you were uncomfortable with. 

You being shy you didn’t want to agner the prince so you quietly just left confusing Malleus. Sebek was yelling at you on how rude you were for just leaving the prince like that! But you just quietly walked away. Things didn’t escalate quickly until the next day. You were completely ignoring and avoiding Malleus every chance you got. You even started to avoid Lilia and Silver who are in fact the most reasonable ones in Diosmina. 

This action hurted Malleus feelings, he felt betrayed and was saddened by your action. He would try to talk to you or even get your attention but the avoidance by yours is making it really hard. The gaul of you to ignore THE Prince of Valley of Thorns as Sebek puts it. 

One day Sebek was really angered by this and confronted you right in front of Malleus. But all of you said was “Who’s Malleus?”. That caused a lot of reaction, everyone around you gave an audible gasp, Sebek was being held back by Silver while covering his mouth, Lilia was lowkey stifling a laugh, while Malleus looked shocked and offended. 

Malleus sulked for a little bit not knowing what to do and what he did wrong. Lilia told him about this really cheesy way to apologize he saw once in a romantic movie. Malleus practiced this for a little while and when he felt confident about he put it to action. 

He couldn’t wait for the next day and put it into action immediately. He teleported to your location which happens to be in your own bathroom. Brushing your teeth enjoying the silence, then BOOM your body was trapped between a towering figure. You looked up seeing Malleus with his shy face. “Malleus what’s wrong?” The way you said his name made him so happy. But that wasn’t the point, he lay it down on you and apologize for everything and he may not know what he did wrong and he is also growing and learning new things 

You accepted his apology and understand that he is still learning what is going on present day. You ended the day back in Malleus' rooms and cuddled with him making sure your safe and sound in his arms.

Would you like to order something? Look at our Tea shop rules first!

[baya-ni]

SHADOW’s Queer Coding

I first started exploring this idea of Sk8′s implicit queer rep (as in stuff other than explicit same sex intimacy) in this post.

I know we like to joke that Hiromi is the Token Straight of the protag gang, but I argue that he’s as much an example of queer rep as any of our main characters, albeit in a less conventional and fanservicey way.

So that’s what this post is gonna be, an analysis of Hiromi/SHADOW as a queer figure, how his character fits the Jekyll/Hyde archetype as a metaphor for queerness and The Closet, the similarities between SHADOW as a skatesona and early drag, and how his character represents a larger problem of exclusion within queer fandom spaces.

The 1886 Gothic novella The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson is the origin of the phrase “Jekyll and Hyde”. What I’m calling the Jekyll/Hyde archetype, refers to the same thing; it refers to duality, to a character who is “outwardly good but sometimes shockingly evil” (as described from the novella’s wiki page).

And the Jekyll/Hyde dynamic has also long been associated with Queerness. The antagonism between Jekyll and Hyde as two sides of the same person resonates with many people as similar to the experience being in the closet, and many many scholars have written about this queer reading of Jekyll and Hyde. Do a quick google search if you don’t believe me.

Hiromi experiences his own Jekyll/Hyde duality through his SHADOW persona, which seems to entirely contradict with Hiromi’s day to day personality.

Whilst Hiromi is sweet, romantic, and generally very cutesy, SHADOW is mean-spirited, sadistic, described as “the anti-hero of the S community.”  And though these two personalities seem entirely at odds, SHADOW doesn’t exist in a vacuum, he’s very much a part of Hiromi. In the show, this manifests as SHADOW’s sabotage moves being all flower themed, as Hiromi works in a flower shop, and how he’ll “step out” of character when playing babysitter to the kids.

Below is passage from an essay titled, “The Homoerotic Architectures of Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” which reminds me a lot of Hiromi’s character, such that I think his character arc can be read as an allegory for coming out and self acceptance.

The closet, here, is a space not only for secrecy and repression, but also for becoming; it is the space in which queer identities build themselves up from “disused pieces” and attempt to discover the strength needed for presentation to the world. The closet is both a space of profound fear and profound courage—of potentiality and actualization. (Prologue)

Unlike the kid/teen characters, the show’s adult characters all lead double lives. When they aren’t skating, they have day jobs. Kaoru is a calligrapher, Kojiro is a restaurant owner, Ainosuke is a politician/businessman (but tbh his job is just being some rich dude), and Hiromi works in a flower shop.

But of the adult protagonists (so not Ainosuke), Hiromi compartmentalizes the most.

Kojiro leaves his face totally exposed such that he can be recognized both on and off the skate scene. Kaoru at least covers his face, but his trademark pink hair and constant use of Carla doesn’t make it very hard to connect the dots between him and CHERRY. He’s also always with Kojiro in the evenings, so if you don’t recognize him as CHERRY when he’s on his own, you certainly will when you see him interacting with Kojiro/JOE.

Next to these two, Hiromi seems the more adamant at separating his Work from Play.

Even when he’s been clearly found it, he still tries to deny that he and SHADOW are the same person. Miya even uses this to coerce Hiromi into helping him and the boys:

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that the separation between Hiromi and SHADOW can be interpreted as a metaphor for being in The Closet. As SHADOW, he leads a secret life, one characterized by an tight-knit underground community with a vibrant night scene, where he behaves in ways typically frowned upon by larger society. He worries about being found out and judged by the people close to him.

But in Ep 4, the walls of his Closet begins to come down, or in this case is literally imposed upon by other members of his community, by its younger members, who don’t feel the same need to hide their passion for skateboarding or lead the same kind of double life.

We then see the line between Hiromi and SHADOW begin to blur.

He becomes less of an antagonist, and instead the audience sees him become a mentor and “mother hen” figure for the younger skaters. Later on in Ep 4, we see him casually interacting with the other protags in full SHADOW mode, not as an “anti-hero” but as a friend.  In Ep 6, he acts as a babysitter for the kids, and we see him totally comfortable appearing both in an out of his SHADOW persona throughout their vacation.

And I think that this gradual convergence of Hiromi and SHADOW will culminate in this tournament arc.

There’s something more personal that’s driving SHADOW to do well in this tournament. It’s not just for bragging rights or his pride as a skater, but the results of this tournament is going to have some kind of greater impact on Hiromi’s personal life. Personally, my theory is that Hiromi is using this tournament to prove to himself that he’s worthy enough to ask his manager out on a date.

Hiromi is no longer compartmentalizing, his two lives are overlapping and influencing each other. Recall the essay quote I cited earlier:

The closet... is the space in which queer identities build themselves up from “disused pieces” and attempt to discover the strength needed for presentation to the world... of potentiality and actualization.

This is exactly the case for Hiromi. Through skating, he is piecing together the disparate parts of him such that he can present himself to the world as a more unified and confident being.

And the show presents the very skating community that Hiromi has been working so hard to keep separated from his personal life- Reki, Langa, Miya, Kaoru, and Kojiro- as the catalyst for that becoming.

That, my dear readers, is queer coding if I ever saw it.

But there’s probably gonna be people claiming something along the lines of “But SHADOW can’t be queer rep because he’s Straight!” And I assume that’s because he shows romantic interest in his female manager.

First of all, Bisexuality. Also Ace/aro-spec people. And second of all, SHADOW is Hiromi’s drag persona.

And before anyone can say anything about how Hiromi can’t do drag because he’s straight (assumption) and cis (also an assumption) uhhhh no, fuck you.

Drag didn’t start with RuPaul’s Drag Race, that’s just how it got mainstream. And it’s also how it got so gentrified and transphobic. You heard me. But anyway.

Drag is, and has always been, first and foremost about exaggerated, and oftentimes satirical, gender presentation and performance. It’s about playing with gender norms through artistic dress and theater, not so much to do with sexuality or gender identity.

Literally, what’s the difference here?

SHADOW is a persona of exaggerated masculinity with a punk aesthetic. Regardless of his sexuality or gender identity, Hiromi’s gender performance as SHADOW is drag- that makes him queer representation, change my fucking mind.

Queerness is more than same-sex romance, and by extension, good queer representation is not limited to canonized gay ships. The very word Queer, in it’s ambiguity, is meant to encompass the richly unique experiences of everyone within the LGBTQ+ community.

In my opinion, Queer =/= Gay. I mean, they’re colloquially the same yes and even I use them interchangeably. But for the purpose of this post, they’re not the same, and that’s to argue that Hiromi/SHADOW’s lack of acknowledgement as queer rep illustrates a larger issue of exclusion within fandom.

I mean, this is something we all kinda been knew, but in the case of Sk8 specifically, there are a two main reasons why I think Hiromi is rarely acknowledged as queer rep.

1. He’s not shippable with another male character

Fandom favors mlm ships when it comes to what’s considered good queer rep. And the ultimate mark of good queer rep is explicit acts of romance or intimacy between two male characters. Unlike with any of the other characters in the show, we can’t point to Hiromi and automatically clock him as gay, especially because he expresses romantic interest in a woman.

So by default, he’s less popular, because “Ew Straight People” amirite /s.

2. He’s not attractive

This is really interesting, because like JOE, Hiromi is a beefcake.

But fans don’t thirst over him the same way they do over JOE. Granted, the show really plays up JOE’s muscles in a very strip-teasey way that literally encourages viewers to find him attractive. By contrast, Hiromi is pretty much covered head to toe and he paints his face in theatrical makeup- the point is to look scary, not attractive.

In essence, even though Hiromi engages in “queer behavior” through his SHADOW persona, his queerness isn’t palatable.

But I also think there’s some pretty insidious undercurrents of fetishization going on here, of both Asian people AND gay men. Which is... a whole other thing I really don’t have the capacity to unpack completely.

But basically, Hiromi doesn’t fit into any of the popular BL archetypes so he’s less likely to recognized as Queer. Relatedly, he’s also less often subjected to a fetishistic gaze as other characters. I mean...

So again, fans just don’t find him as appealing. Attractive characters are always more popular than ugly ones.

And I’m sure there are a lot of people who just don’t care for Hiromi’s personality, that’s fine, he does act like an asshole sometimes. But this post is meant to illustrate that queer rep takes multiple forms, and unfortunately I think a lot of media just tends to fall back on stereotypical portrayals of queer people for the sake of broader appeal. And by consequence, the fandom’s idea of what constitutes queer rep narrows to same-sex romance, usually between two cis gay men.

With the release of Ep 9, I know a lot of people queer people are going to find representation in the Kojiro’s whole “unrequited love” thing. But personally, I feel more represented by Hiromi, his journey of self-acceptance and subversive relationship with gender- that’s what resonates with me as a trans person.

And I think it’s important to see that kind of less palatable type of queer representation more acknowledged in fandom, and in Sk8′s fandom especially, because I know the demographics of this fandom lean heavily queer.

But that’s all for now, lemme know what you guys think :)

[whumpeeblog]

TW: Slavery, Torture Mention, Death Mention, Pain, etc.

K, away on a decently long journey with A, chose to let N look after his estate and slaves for a period.

S shivered in her cell, sore from a recent beating. The vase had crashed with a menacing promise of punishment. But it had been an accident. Not only had the whip sliced her back, but the blades of knives and the threatening chokes of torture had harmed her feeble body. Weakened from the pain, S’s brain played pranks of mirages and lethargic daydreams.

Footsteps outside her cell. No. Please no. She had been certain that K was on a journey and she just wanted to be left to suffer alone. Perhaps it was a trick and now he would torture her again. Jingling keys toyed with the brass lock, and flickering light, too bright compared to the heavy darkness, crept into the cell.

K had instructed N, a close friend and distant relative, as to what each individual slave and prisoner would get for meals and work, as well as for torture. Burning hatred of cruelty towards any living creature stabbed at his heart. K had demanded the torture and work of the wretch in this cell, however, and he had to follow orders.

K had assumed S was too mangled to be recognized, and she knew the rules of speaking out of turn. N would never know it was her. He hadn’t seen her in nearly three years, and her rebellious spirit ran much more wild then.

Soft light dripped onto the figure shaking like a leaf in the corner of her cell. She was unrecognizable to him, just another slave. K had destroyed her, breaking her into something she was never meant to be.

N stepped into the cell, keys ringing in his fingers and a lit torch in the other. He set the flaming stick into a holder in the wall, then took another step. With each thump of his leather boots against the floor, the pain filled whimpers and sobs of the captive grew more desperate.

N crouched closer, and the girl sunk herself further into the wall, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out in pain.

Hardly a face, covered in bruises and crimson gashes, hung towards the floor. A mangled, broken body melted its way into the stone walls behind it. Muffled wails quietly rung in the dungeon.

N knelt towards the girl, preparing to lift her off of the floor. As his lean figure came nearer, S’s whimpers became more and more horrified.

S’s heart ached to scream for mercy, but there were punishments for that. She remained as silent as possible while failing to hide her trembling tears.

N’s kind heart stung for the child on the floor, her form crushed and shattered by her master. The last thing N wished was to hurt this poor creature, and the last thing she wanted was for him to touch her.

Gentle fingers softly caressed the abused face, feeling the pale skin shiver in fear beneath them.

“Look at me,” N whispered. Something about this prisoner was familiar.

S’s ivy eyes rose hesitantly, but the moment they struck N, his own eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

Those eyes were familiar. He had seen the tortured face many times before, but... it wasn’t possible. K had murdered her years ago. She had been tortured, then her head cut off, or at least, that’s what everyone had been led to believe. Couldn’t be. She was dead.

Dew drops clung to the long lashes that framed the eyes staring into his soul.

“S?”

The syllables startled the wretch and she grimaced and pinned herself even harder against the wall. All she wished was to hide away, to be ignored.

N’s soul broke with the realization that she didn’t remember him just yet. This had to be her, and he couldn’t hurt her, no matter what K threatened.

“Child, I’m not going to hurt you.” N cautiously brushed through her matted hair with his fingers in an attempt to gain trust.

S gradually recognized the man. N. The last time she had seen him failed to reappear in her mind. Perhaps he had changed. Surely this was a trap. Either way, K would return and N would give him a report on her, so she best remember her place.

Chains rattled as N removed the rusty collar tethering S to the wall. The chains connecting her ankles dropped. Tears fell throughout the entire process and she internally begged N not to hurt her.

She must obey him, and prove that she was a good slave, to avoid more pain. He couldn’t possibly be the same N who saved her life five years ago, or the same man who convinced D not to hurt her countless times.

A soft jolt singed S’s cut covered body, and whines escaped her as N lifted her body into his arms. Even his soft skin sent agonizing torment through her when he touched any of her wounds.

“Shh..” N cooed, almost fooling the girl with his gentle tone and soft eyes.

Whatever he was going to do to her, it would end in pain. He was just like K now, S was sure of it. K had been soft with her at times too, but he always seemed to run back to the realization of what a lowly wretch she was. She deserved the pain. She would beg for punishment, then perhaps N would tell K what a good prisoner she had been.

Although N attempted his best to lightly carry the girl, each step threw painful pressure on S’s injuries. She groaned. Groans transformed into sobs.

N couldn’t handle seeing the child in such torment. He set her down against a wall, then used his knowledge of the human body to provoke a pressure point, sending S into unconsciousness.

Unfamiliar sheets burned against bloodied skin as S shifted in her ending sleep. Eyes flushed open in shock. Green pupils stared into the crinkling brown ones above her, almost immediately shifting back down.

Oh god I made eye contact. I should ask for punishment. If I do, he won’t tell K and he’ll know I didn’t mean to. But if I talk, he’ll punish me.

The grieving child flinched in preparation for the sting that never came. Her skin jolted when tender fingers dragged themselves through her damp- wait damp?

Puzzled, S’s hand shakily lifted to slip through her slick roots. Had he- bathed her? Surely he must know she didn’t deserve such generosity. The sore wounds had been wrapped and cleansed as well. This tactic was familiar to her. He would show her mock kindness, healing her wounds, only to torture her again when her body was strong enough.

What if K hadn’t actually left, and he had simply sold her? This was a different castle after all... actually... she knew this place. D’s castle. These walls had distanced themselves for three years. And now she was back. The memory of her first visit haunted her. Her body flung to the floor. Her defiant screams of fear and pain. Before K broke her. Before she became what she was meant to be.

N’s words interrupted her thoughts.

“How are we feeling, lass?”

“Better, Master. Thank you. I don’t deserve your kindness.” The raspy voice barely croaked.

His tone tricked S into almost believing he wasn’t angry for the unwanted eye contact. Surely she wouldn’t remain unpunished.

“Dinna think ye were still alive after all these years. K w’d have us believe he’d tortured ya and killed ye. I can see he’s had his fair share of fun wit ya, hasn’t he?”

N’s velvet voice calmed S and she nodded, a saltwater drop searing a gash on her cheek. N’s hand drove towards her face, and his thumb wiped her tears as his palm cupped her trembling cheek.

“Hush, darling.”

“I’m sorry, Master. Forgive me. It’s not my place to cry.”

“No, no, you’re alright,” N cooed.

“I should be punished, sir. Please. I shouldn’t have cried before and I shouldn’t now. Please discipline me and teach me my place,” S’s whines for authority grew frantic. She had to be taught. If she wasn’t, she would forget what she was. They would have to break her all over again.

“No, love. Hush now.”

N grappled a chilly wet cloth. Frosty shudders danced through S when N dabbed her forehead with the rag. Her voice broke into a moaning tremor. All she wanted was to be punished. Sparing the pain now would create more torture later. Disdain blended with agony laced her high pitched whimpers when N’s soft hand guided the cloth against her face.

“I’ll make us supper. What’d ya like, lass?”

Utter confusion clogged S’s brain. He couldn’t have just asked her that. It must be a trap. She wasn’t allowed to eat unless specifically ordered to, hence the ribs that popped out with every intake of breath. She was merely a skeleton, hidden beneath a paper thin blanket of marred skin. S’s stomach was only given barely enough sustenance to pump her heart for a bit longer each day.

The few times that she had attempted to sneak food, S had been punished mercilessly, then given the opportunity to eat as a test of obedience. This must be another quiz of compliance. Although the punches of starvation beat her insides, S understood that the pain resulting from gluttony would be much worse.

Her new master’s patient gaze saturated her with concern.

“What do you want to eat, girl?”

“I’m ok, Master. I don’t eat a lot.”

That’s it. Perhaps he was testing her to see how much she required to continue breathing. If she showed she didn’t eat a lot or need much to survive, he would let her live. If she didn’t take much from him, he would keep her alive and let her serve him.

N stared through her pale body sorrowfully, a pang of guilt and pity trampling him like the wheels of a speeding train. The poor child. Someone had to help her. What had K done to her? What had become of his little lass? Where was the defiant young child who would have fought tirelessly for her innocent life? Was she dead, or was she simply hiding behind a submissive mask of the years of torture she had been subjected to? Patience for K was thinning. S belonged to him though. There was nothing to be done except show mercy to the captive while she was under his care.

K had ordered her torture when she was healed enough. N refused. Even if he did antagonize her, who knew how long her frail body could handle it?

“Come along, lass,” N softly demanded, whispering so as not to startle the girl. He gently settled his arm around S’s back, and she whimpered when his skin brushed against her freshly bandaged tissue. His strength assisted in hoisting her body upright, then he placed out both of his arms for S to use as leverage.

The hint wasn’t immediately taken.

“Place your hands on my forearms.”

Finally, an instruction. S’s sliced wrists snaked onto N’s tan arms, and with a groan, she lifted herself to stand.

“Go wait in the kitchen for me.”

S lowered her head and obeyed the order, limping out the door and down the halls. As she leaned against the walls for support, her delirious brain began to recognize the place. She had not seen these walls in forever, but they remained the same as they were two years ago. Her suffering body hobbled past K’s old suite, as well as D’s, and the years of torment came thrashing back. Pushing the tears in her mind aside, S slowly tripped down the stairs and into the main kitchen. The layout was similar, if not almost identical, to the entertainment, living, and kitchen area of K’s home.

Rather than hop towards the fridge and pick out a meal, S launched herself to her knees, and waited, head down and body prepared for any punishment or mere entertainment N wanted. The impending footsteps thumped down the staircase.

“What’re ye doing?” N’s bewilderment intertwined into his tone. “Git yerself up off da floor.”

S clamored to stand as tall as her crackling spine would allow her, but a slight slump in her body bent her like a weathered tree. Her right hand crossed in front of her to grasp her left wrist, a sign of submission and preparedness to be bound, if her master saw fit. Her head sank. She was do careful not to look her superiors in the eye. If she proved she was a good slave, maybe N would let her live, or at least make her death quick and painless.

Whether N’s intentions were to execute or torture S hid themselves. She had skimmed kindness and humaneness in his amber gaze, but she had witnessed the same thing from K before. He had shown her leniency many times, and she had even seen a tear shed once or twice, but he always ended up afflicting her again. She couldn’t trust those eyes, regardless of how promising and honest they seemed. Proving her worth would save her life, so she thought. She was a terrible slave. A wretch. An enemy who had been shown mercy. She deserved whatever awaited her in the dungeons; whatever waited behind N’s reassuring hand.

[normal-thoughts-official]

With a little help from your friends (the help is praise kink and the friend is your boyfriend)

Who would have thought that fucking your boyfriend senseless cures dysphoria.

Alternatively: being a dom is actually something that can be so gender,

Fandom: It Lives (Visual Novels)

Pairing: Andy Kang/Tom Sato

Additional tags: let's see, mild mentions of transphobic and racist comments, Comfort Sex, the filthiest comfort sex uve ever seen but WHATEVER, dom andy kang, sub tom sato, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dom/sub Play, Collars, Praise Kink, basically someone says transphobic shit and then tom rides him and talks about how wonderful andy is, except tom has also been in denial for a few days and he's super horny, and andy gets in domspace and everything is great and nothing hurts, Fluff and Smut, Humor, cuz u know these two are incapable of taking anything too seriously, Established Relationship, oh they're both in college and they go to the same college cuz i said so, set after the events of it lives beneath, that's it I think, trans author if that matters to you

Read it on Ao3

Andy isn't having a great day. It's not a terrible, clawing-at-his-chest-trying-to-deal-with-dysphoria kind of day, but he's been trying out this "not comparing everything to the worst possible scenario" thing his therapist has been talking about, so still, not a great day.

The thing is, he thought college would be easier. And it is, in a lot of ways. For starters, there is no evil monster spectre trying to kill him, which gives college at least 5 points over high school. And his uni has a pretty solid queer club, so he knows other trans people there. Some of them are even non-white. Some of them he even actually, truly likes. And most of the time, he feels like he has a place to turn to, and people to support him. He's not alone. He has people who get him. And that makes all the difference.

But basketball is still a nightmare, and his knee still hurts when it's cold, and winter is officially starting now.

People still hesitate to pass the ball to him, and it's frustrating, because Andy fought so hard to earn his old team's trust and now he's back at square zero. And well, Andy has been gaining this team's trust, because he's good, goddamn it, and his team owes at least the last three victories to him. He's not hesitant to say that, especially because otherwise no one will. And he can see that they look at him differently now - nod at him in the hallways, at least, talk to him in the locker room, pass him the fucking ball if his position is very, very open.

But if he weren't trans and Asian, he wouldn't have had to work so hard to get all of that - or well, just that, really. He has a full sports scholarship despite the fact that he had a broken leg, had to retake his last year of high school, and doesn't even have the body type for basketball. If he weren't Asian, if he weren't trans, his team would have assumed his greatness from day one. Instead, he has to show it to them time and time again only to get them to reluctantly admit maybe he's not bad. No one calls him "triple threat" anymore, but he still has to work three times harder than anyone else, and it's frustrating.

And usually Andy can deal with it, but right now his knee hurts, and he can't afford that because he'll lose everything he's worked for if his teammates know that his fucking knee hurts. So, he braved training and then he got the fuck out of there without even changing so no one would see him wince. Which means he's still in basketball shorts, which are short, in the cold, which means his leg hurts more.

At times like these, he's thankful he never got the chance to go through with his promise to break his other leg kicking Noah's ass. Because he would have, and then both his legs would be hurting right now, and two legs that hurt every time it's cold is just too many legs.

No comparing to the worst possible scenario, he tells himself. Therapy is so hard. If he had known there would be homework, he would have thought twice about going.

And that's, apparently, the cue for his phone to go off. Andy smiles, knowing who it is even before he opens the message, because only one person messages him during class, and it's the only person he wants to hear from right now.

Tom <3 sent you a message

Grinning like a fool, he opens it.

Tom <3: dude, im horny af rn. the fuck

Finally, good news, Andy thinks, smiling. Then he remembers why Tom is so horny, and suddenly this day is great, actually.

He quickly types a reply.

You: who wouldve thought that 3 days of denial would make this happen

Tom <3: ill have u kno i was very good at holding it together before today

You: yeah, dw. soon u wont have to hold it anymore ;)

Tom <3: that flirt was terrible, dude

You: said the guy whos calling me dude for the second time in this conversation

Tom <3: what else should i call u? 😩

Andy thinks for a second. Tom and him do longer-term denial every once in a while, but they aren't in a 24/7 relationship. Does Andy really want to go there right now? Yes. Well, that was fast. Okay then.

You: how about "sir"

Tom's reply comes fast as lightning.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

Andy smirks at himself.

You: uve been hoping that id say that, havent u?

Tom types for just a little longer this time.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

----

Many things are wrong with the world, and Andy doesn't mean to make light of the other things, but the fact that Andy can't simply go and fuck his boyfriend whenever he wants is definitely one of them. It should be, like, financial compensation or something. We're so sorry the school environment is transphobic, here, have a free sex pass. Sounds fair to him. But instead, he still has two hours of classes to go through, and Andy is a better guy than he wishes he was, so he tells Tom to pay attention to class instead of sexting him, because he doesn't want Tom to struggle even more with his course when he had already had to leave it once. God damn true love or whatever.

The point is, by the time classes are finally over, his day is back to not being that great; he's tired, and his leg hurts. He gets to their car after Tom does, and Tom takes one look at him, and says, "I'm driving".

Andy crosses his arms. "Why?"

"Because your leg hurts," Tom answers, rolling his eyes and taking Andy's bag from him and putting it in the trunk.

Andy looks down at his legs. He wasn't limping. There aren't any bruises. How the hell-

"It's cold and you're in shorts. I'm not an idiot, dude."

Right. Yeah. Right. Of course. Tom knows. It's… It's alright.

"Bad day at training?" Tom asks, slowly, sympathetically, and Andy feels himself settle in his skin a little bit.

"The usual," he answers, getting inside, and, as always, Tom gets the hint.

---

Their uni's dorms are gender-segregated because these guys have still not gotten the memo that people of the same gender fuck; and Andy wasn't willing to deal with cis college guys' bullshit, much less cis college girls' bullshit; and the uni wouldn't let him simply pick Tom as his roommate. So, they rented out a beat up apartment right next to it instead. It took a little longer to get there, but it wasn't a lot longer, and well, it was worth it.

Tom gets inside, still carrying Andy's bag because he's transphobic and unfair and had taken it and bolted up running so Andy wouldn't have a chance to argue with him. And Andy can't run after him with his leg hurting, which kind of proves Tom's point that he should carry Andy's bag. All in all, Tom is the worst, and he turns up the heat as soon as he gets inside and sits Andy down on the bed, kneeling in front of him to take a look at Andy's knee.

He's silent for a while, massaging his knee until Andy sighs and throws his head back, before Tom plants a little kiss on his knee and looks up at him. Andy's knee always stops hurting when Tom kisses it better. It's a little embarrassing, if Andy is being honest, but still- nice. Really nice.

They stay for a little longer like this, Tom humming and massaging his knee and Andy not meeting his eyes, until the question inevitably comes.

"What happened?" Tom asks, not letting up with the smooth movements of his hands, his eyes big and sincere with worry.

"Nothing. Just the cold. You know how my knee gets."

"I meant, for you to leave practice without putting some warmer clothes on."

Andy looks away. "It was nothing."

"Dude, are you expecting me to go, 'okay, yeah, that totally makes sense and I believe you', or…?"

Andy laughs, despite himself, and throws his good leg up in an almost-kick to pretend he's retaliating. "Don't be an ass."

"I'm not. Come on, Andy. You know you can tell me."

"It's nothing, it's just- Kyle-"

"Oh boy."

Andy laughs. "Yeah." But then he grows serious, "the thing is, he doesn't mean any harm, you know? I know he's not saying it to hurt me, and so that just means that, like... that it's true."

Tom's hands stop their movements, rubbing soothing circles around his knee instead. "What did he say?"

Andy doesn't look at him. "He asked me why I didn't stay on the women's team. Said that I could have an advantage, cuz Asian people are androgynous anyway, so no one would notice that I was taking hormones."

Tom just stares at him in shock for a moment.

"And I was like, 'dude, I've been on T for three years, I'm pretty sure they would notice the changes'. And he was like, 'yeah, but you still look like a lot of Asian girls with short hair, you could write it off if you wanted', and I just…" He trails off.

Tom waits in silence for a second, seeing if Andy finds his words, before asking, "Is Kyle, like, okay?"

Andy scoffs. "I didn't try and fight him, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I mean, does this dude have a screw loose or something?"

"He's very bad at figuring out what is or isn't offensive, yeah, but it's not like he really cares, he just won't go out of his way to antagonize me."

"No, I just- Andy, even when you were a little kid with huge pigtails, anyone would have to be crazy to see you as a girl."

Andy bites the inside of his lip. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. It's just wrong, man. It was so obvious that it was wrong. Anyone could tell. There's nothing about you that says 'girl' to anyone who's looking."

Andy sighs, finally risking looking at Tom's eyes. There's overwhelming sincerity there, and Andy instinctively looks away. "I guess. Maybe. I don't know. It just got me thinking... Maybe T didn't change anything. Maybe I look exactly the same, maybe it was just hopeful thinking that had me thinking it would change anything, maybe it's just- pointless to even try-"

"No, no, come on," Tom says, and the interruption is so sudden it makes Andy look at him again, just in time to see Tom shaking his head vigorously. "There's no way you believe that. What about this bad boy over here?" He smiles, reaching out softly to caress Andy's neck. "You have more of an Adam's Apple than me, dude. And we both know you don't need T to be a guy, but thinking it made no difference is just crazy and you know it. What about those dry pecs? These broad shoulders of yours? Your voice, I mean, come on. You even smell different, man. How can it be pointless, if even your scent is different?"

Andy looks to the side again, but he can feel himself smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Tom gets up, but stays close, putting his hand on Andy's cheek, slowly, as if testing the waters, before turning him slightly to look at him. "Andy. Kyle is an idiot and a transphobic racist who's too damn lazy to realize how fucked up he is. And you shouldn't have to deal with that, and I'm sorry, and I will set him on fire."

Andy laughs. "You can't keep threatening to set every shitty teammate I have on fire."

"I can, because it keeps making you laugh," Tom says, smiling. Well. Andy can't argue with that. "My point is, you wouldn't listen to a word this dude says if it were about anyone else, so don't listen to him when he talks about you, okay? T or no T, you're no girl, and you don't look like a girl, and regardless of whether or not Kyle's dumb ass noticed it, your transition has been doing you good. Remember when your voice started to crack and get all weird? I've never seen anyone be that happy about it."

Andy laughs. "It was pretty awful."

"No, it was great, 'cause you loved it. Do you want me to pull out the 'before' pictures we took in case this happened? Look at yourself, dude. You fit so much better in your own skin, you know? And like, you've always been gorgeous, but-"

"Come here," Andy interrupts, pulling him down because Tom is standing and Andy is sitting and Andy is already height-challenged. And Tom goes willingly, carefully straddling Andy's lap and meeting him in a kiss. Finally, Andy thinks.

Tom kisses him softly, slowly, one hand resting on the back of Andy's head and the other draped lazily over his shoulder, as he usually does, all gentle and a little hesitant, and Andy is having none of that. So he grabs Tom's hair and deepens the kiss, bringing him closer until their chests are flushed together and he can feel Tom's hips mindlessly making little circles against Andy's belly.

They separate - or well, stop kissing, really, because Tom is still as close to Andy as physically possible, and Andy feels about ready to shoot anyone who tries to push him further away. Tom's a little breathless, and his hips are still making these almost imperceptible movements against Andy, and Andy realizes that he's still grabbing Tom's hair and that he's a little breathless, too.

Tom looks down at him for a second, as if debating something with himself, before saying, "and like, not to be horny during a serious moment, but since we're talking about the effects of T... Andy. Andy. Your clit. Fuck. It's so huge now, and it's got a visible head and you can fuck my face and everything, and I could sing it praises for a week and probably will if you don't stop me right now."

"Hmm, but I like it when you sing me praises," he smiles. "Keep going."

"God, I was hoping you'd say that. Do you have any idea how much I've been thinking about it today? I didn't hear a single word anyone said to me, all I could think about was you fucking my face, pulling my hair, making me worship you and beg to be allowed to suck you off, I wanna serve you like you're my God." Tom's hips start to jerk up, more visibly this time, shameless, and see, this is why Andy's been really, really liking this whole denial thing - Tom has only started to explore his subby side recently, a little ashamed of it to admit it to anyone, even himself. But when he's horny enough, he gets shameless and desperate about what he wants, and god, nothing is more beautiful than Tom when he asks for what he wants. He feels something growing inside of him, not sure if it's warmth or heat, but seeing Tom like that, wanting him, needing him, definitely makes him feel so much better.

"Yeah?" Andy asks, tracing a finger over Tom's shoulder, close to his neck, just to give him goosebumps.

"Fuck yes, I want it so bad, and you deserve it too, Andy… Sir. You're the best Sir I could ask for, I just want… Want you to use me, want you to cum on me, want to kiss you all over and worship you and pleasure you, you're so gorgeous..." He hides his face in Andy's shoulder for a bit, but his hips don't stop moving. He whines, "Andy..."

"Address me properly," Andy snaps, feeling the edges of worry clear from his mind and giving way to that wonderful feeling of clear-mindedness, of power, where nothing matters but his own pleasure. "And maybe I'll give you what you want, if you earn it."

Tom nods, hips full on thrusting now, and Andy snaps again. "Stay still."

And he does, immediately, without question, biting his lip and keeping his eyes shut with effort. Andy can feel his thighs clenching and spasming over his, trying to keep himself from moving, trying to be good. He hums in appreciation, but doesn't praise him for it, not yet.

"I'll get you ready," Andy explains, before reaching to Tom's hair, and starts to undo his bun, as slow as possible, just to watch him squirm. He gets so impatient when Andy undresses him, which is why Andy never misses a chance to drag it out.

He begins by removing Tom's jacket, sliding his hands slowly over his shoulders, then down his back, feeling the firm muscle there, digging his nails just a little bit so he can see Tom's eyes flutter in bliss. When the jacket falls to the floor, Andy begins circling the hem of his shirt, sliding until his hands are back on front, fingers just close enough to Tom's cock for him to feel Tom tense in his hands, so damn sensitive to his touch, so needy. God, he can't get enough of this, but he pretends that he doesn't notice, lets Tom try and keep himself together as Andy's hands slide over his belly, then chest, over the shirt, collarbone, wrapping and resting on Tom's throat just so he feels the threat of it, before Andy finally grabs the back of the shirt's collar and tugs, taking it off. Then he slides his hands back down, making sure to run a finger just over the sensitive spot where his pecs end, then lower, over his ribcage, belly, hips, next to the bruises where Andy had grabbed him the night before, then back to the middle, just over the bulge in his pants, and Tom finally breaks and jerks up slightly, letting out a little moan.

"Sir," he whines, "please, please, I-" Andy continues to circle the head of his cock with his finger, "please!"

"Patience," is all he says, before going back to his painfully light movements, imagining Tom's needy cock twitching under his fingers, imagining the effort Tom makes not to thrust up or keep begging for more, just because Andy told him not to. "You know how much I like playing with your pretty little cock. You said you wanted to serve me, didn't you?"

"Yes- yes, Sir."

He hums, noncommittally, not looking at him. "Good." He teases the tip of his clothed cock some more, enjoying the way his mind zeroes on that, the way he feels like he has all the power and the time in the world. Finally, he pats Tom's thigh once. "Get off, and take off the rest of your clothes. Get the lube and a condom."

Tom gets up, a little shaky, and does as instructed, while Andy reaches down to the drawer under the bed where he keeps his dick's spine and a few of their toys. He gets the spine, then adjusts his packer briefs so he can put it on - best purchase of his life, really, those briefs. So much easier to use than a regular strap-on and it makes the packer sit over his clit just right, making a little suction and pressure. Andy couldn't be happier that he was already wearing them.

Tom gets back with everything he asked right in time for Andy to finish making his dick hard, and goes on to put the condom on and cover Andy's cock in lube with the kind of attention that makes Andy hold his breath. Tom's so careful, yet eager, and adoring, about it. Andy feels like the hottest guy in the world.

Once he gets permission, Tom sits on his cock, slowly, getting adjusted to it - admittedly, Andy went a little overboard when he bought his first cock. Andy waits until Tom is fully seated, littering his neck with little kisses and praise for how well he's taking him, how pretty he looks, until Tom looks fully comfortable and ready to start complaining if Andy doesn't start fucking him in earnest soon. That's when Andy shows him the other item he pulled from the drawer - Tom's favorite collar.

Tom's reaction is instantaneous. He throws his head back, moving over Andy's cock as he lets out a breathless, almost choked moan; the hands he had resting on Andy's shoulders suddenly squeezing full force in his need.

"God, you're such a whore," Andy says, casually, and Tom nods, even as he flushes. The collar is just a simple black one, with a little hoop for the leash, but inside they had it engraved with the words Andy's whore, and it left visible marks that could be seen for a few hours after they took it off. It never failed to drive Tom crazy, so it always drove Andy crazy, too. "Stay still," he warns, and Tom nods, breathing heavily, gripping Andy's shoulder as tight as he can as he stays frozen in place. Andy slowly puts it around his neck, checking with his finger to make sure it's not too tight, and the second he clasps it in place, Tom's whole body relaxes, a content little sigh escaping his lips, his face slack and blissed out. He likes being owned, so much. Andy can't get enough of it. "Good?" he asks, just to make sure it's not too tight.

"Perfect," Tom answers, the words leaving him in a sigh. Andy then ties the leash to the headboard, making sure that they're just far enough from it that he'll be feeling its pull the whole time. Tom lets out a moan. "Thank you, Sir."

Andy smirks. "Now, here's what I want you to do," he says, "you're going to ride me, just like that, and you're not going to come until I tell you to. You're definitely not going to come before I do. If you come close, you'll have to tell me. I want to hear you scream, so make as much noise as you want. Do you understand?"

Tom nods again, almost dizzyingly quick. "Yes, Sir."

"Good, then get to it."

Tom doesn't need to be told twice. He starts riding him, slowly at first, trying to find the perfect angle for Andy - not himself, Andy notices, pleased. Once it's perfect, Andy orders, "faster, slut,” and Tom obeys, as always, working up speed as he tries to keep himself upright, feeling the tug of his leash with every movement, moaning the whole time. “Good boy,” Andy says, and Tom’s responding whine is high pitched, embarrassing, needy. He gets even faster then, starting to babble as he keeps on working, and Andy just stays casually in place, not having to do a single thing while Tom works to give him pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so perfect, did you know that?" Tom asks, quickly sliding down on Andy's cock, making sure he puts all this weight in the end so Andy's cock will press down against his clit just the way he likes, making sure to go as deep as possible, "I've been dreaming of your cock for days, god, Sir, nothing's better than this," he hides his face in Andy's shoulder, speeding up even more, thighs shaking with the effort, and Andy puts a fist in his hair and pulls, watching as Tom throws his head back and lets out a scream, working even faster on Andy's cock. "Sir!," he whines, "oh, thank you, thank you, feels so good, oh my god, please, I'm gonna-"

"No, you won't," Andy interrupts, "I'm not even close to coming yet. Keep working, slut."

"Y-yes, Sir," he whines, going faster, deeper, and Andy makes it harder for him, keeps pulling at his hair to expose his neck, litters kisses and bites on his exposed throat, grabs his thigh and squeezes hard enough to bruise so Tom remembers he's his, his whore, his toy.

"I love it when you get like this," Andy says, doing his best to keep his tone even, even as he's a little breathless from pleasure, from power, "I bet you want to come so bad, don't you? If I'd just give you the word, you'd be making a mess of yourself, coming on my cock right now-"

"Fuck! Yes, yes, Sir, please, I'm so close."

Andy smiles. "No."

Tom whines, so cute, adorable, and Andy is nice enough to leave a little kiss on his shoulder, grounding, calming him down. Before going right back to torturing him, "no, you don't get to come for a long time yet. I want you just like this, on edge, tasting it…" Andy grins. "Tell me how close you are, baby."

"I'm- I'm so close-"

Andy slaps him in the face. "You can do better than that."

"Fuck, I feel like I'm going to explode, I'm so close, I want it so bad, and you feel so good, God, you have no idea what you do to me, Sir, your cock is so perfect, it hurts, I need it- need to cum on your cock, Sir, please-"

"No."

Tom chokes on a moan, and starts to go even faster. He lets out a little whine, something Andy thinks was supposed to be a word, but doesn't come close.

"See," Andy says, "this is why I won't let you come. Look at you - every time I tell you no, you get so desperate, so obedient - it's what you want, isn't it? You want me to keep telling you no, you want to know your pleasure doesn't matter, that you're just here to serve me."

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes-"

"Good, then keep going. And beg all you want- I like telling you no, too."

Tom does. He begs, and he says thank you when Andy denies him, again and again and again. Thank you, Sir, thank you for using me, for putting me in my place, I'm yours, I'm yours. And he keeps on praising Andy, praising his cock, his body, the way he fucks him and uses him, no one else makes me feel like this, no one deserves to be worshipped and served like you, Sir, I want to make you feel good-... Until even the clear-minded state of domspace begins to crumble and Andy feels nothing but pleasure, and confidence, and power, and he cums to the sound of Tom praising him and begging, once, twice, three times, until his head is clear again and everything, even the need to chase his own pleasure, is gone, and he just feels perfect.

"Stop," he orders Tom, who's still babbling more and more incoherently, endless praise and worship, and Andy finds that he worships Tom right back. "I want you to get my cock as deep inside you as you can, and stay still. I'm going to play with your dick for a while, and when I tell you to, you can come. You did well today, baby."

Tom nods, suddenly struggling to use his words. "T-thank you, Sir," he says, already frozen in place, thighs clenching with the effort not to move and also shaking with all the effort he did before.

Andy coos. "Poor baby. You were so good to me today. Let me take care of you."

"You always- always do, Sir," Tom replies, and Andy smiles.

He gives Tom a long, slow handjob, making sure Tom stays still through it, enjoying the way his thighs shake on top of Andy's, the pressure of Tom sitting tight on his cock, the way his arms also shake with effort where they rest around Andy's neck; Tom's pretty, exposed throat all marked up around his collar, his breathless little whines as Andy makes sure to do it just the way he likes it, makes his cock turn red with need; watches Tom bite his lip, because when he has to keep still he becomes so quiet and needy, even as the little whines go through his lips… Until Andy finally says, "come for me, baby," and Tom screams through an orgasm that lasts almost a minute, hanging on to Andy as tightly as he can to keep himself anchored through the pleasure.

And then Andy holds him, and Tom holds him back, and they hold each other.

----

A while later, they've cleaned up Tom's cum so it doesn't get all sticky on Andy's chest, and Andy's finally taken off those damn briefs - they're great for sex, but get pretty tight when you wear them for a long time - and Andy holds Tom against his chest. He's humming, contently, and if anyone had told him at the beginning of the day that he'd be comfortable enough to have someone close to him while he's fully naked, he'd - well, probably assume they meant Tom, but still be skeptical.

"How do you feel?" Tom asks after a little while, finally opening up his eyes and saying hello to the world.

"That's supposed to be my line," Andy laughs.

"I feel great. Perfect. Next time, I wanna do it for longer. A week? Let's try a week. Or two weeks…?"

Andy laughs. "Let's not make too big of a leap yet."

"Fine. A week sounds good. Great. And now that we've established that denial is totally bomb for me, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I'm feeling great, too," Andy admits, playing with a little stray of Tom's hair, swirling it around his finger, "I think I needed that, a little bit. Who'd have thought that having you ride me and praise my cock cures dysphoria."

"Every trans top on every forum I've ever visited."

"Let me have my moment of realization," Andy mumbles, faux-annoyed. Tom just laughs, holding him closer.

"I'm just glad I could help," he says.

"Please tell me you didn't ride my cock just to help."

"Well, no, in case you hadn't noticed, I was horny as fuck. I just tried to, you know. Use that to give you a little push. Since you wanted to. Y'know. Also, it was all true. So..."

"Thanks, love," Andy says, earnestly. "I love you."

"I love you more."

They bicker about it, and Andy's smiling the rest of the day.

[ddarker-dreams]

what are some punishments for the villain trio (overhaul, dabi, shiggy)? 👀say that their darling is still being defiant and difficult and just overall feisty :3c

Overhaul:

Overhaul is purposeful for any punishments or restrictions he’d put in place. In his mind, he’s not doing it to be “cruel”, but to fix a behavior he dislikes in you. A lot of what he would do would depend on you as a person.

Isolation would be a common strategy. It’s one of the worst things you can do to a person, as human beings are social by nature. If he feels that you’re acting up, he’ll leave you for long periods of time.

On the other hand of this, if you stop eating/drinking, he’ll come back lmao. He wouldn’t want to do anything that effects your health negatively. Overhaul would connect you to a feeding tube if he had to, and you know that’s not an empty threat.

He would try to be more reasonable with you, or at least that’s what he thinks. He explains that if you don’t act up, you’ll be given more freedoms. At this point it’s just kinda up to you to begrudgingly accept it or stay defiant.

Overhaul will talk to you calmly, never raising his voice. He’ll explain your situation to you, and that things will be as good as you make them to be. It feels like he’s talking down to you, his authority unmatched. 

He’ll offer to get you basically anything you want for you to stop acting out. Overhaul feels like he’s being reasonable with you, so any arguments will go in his ear and out the other. If you start asking for things he’ll give it to you with conditions.

Dabi:

For Dabi, this is a bit tricky because it really depends on what exactly you’re doing. Dabi would find it hot in a sadistic way if you were feisty with him, throwing a few insults here and there. He’d view it as wanting to “tame” you. 

It could be considered a punishment, but he’ll mess around with you a lot. Some of the words he says can be flirty, others are borderline cruel. He’ll want to procure a reaction from you, and this seems to be a surefire way to do so.

There are things you can say that’d actually upset him if you stick to it long enough. If you constantly say how much you hate him, that you’ll never love him, it’d sting. He could handle it at first, but would get silently angry if you continued saying this.

Will activate his quirk to reinforce who is in control here. It’s normally enough to get you to bite your tongue, as you feel the warmth from the flames. 

Moves onto further measures if this still isn’t enough. He’ll start taking away certain parts of your clothes when you’re showering, making you beg for them back and apologize to avoid embarrassment. Depending on his mood he’ll give them back, or he won’t for a day to prove a point.

Cruel with his words when you’re begging. “I thought you said you hated me hm? What changed your mind so fast?” and the like. He’ll start feeling better when he sees you squirming and blushing.

Tomura:

His presence is your punishment tbh. There are times he’s talkative, going over things that make no sense to you (normally League plans). Or he’ll just stare at you silently, taking in your presence. You can’t decide which one is creepier.

If he feels like you’re acting out of line, he’ll get pretty morbid. He’ll share details of the people he’s killed recently, talking about how their skin crumbled under his touch. He’ll try and manipulate you by saying how happy you should be he’d never do that to you. 

Prone to get visibly upset if you insult him or ignore him. He’ll throw petty insults at you, saying that you’re being difficult for no reason. Makes threats but those are empty since he wouldn’t actually want to hurt you.

Shigaraki is unnerving to be around. While he can attempt to be more pleasant if you’re being sweet to him, anything less will give an undesirable result. 

If you call him a monster enough time, he’ll get pretty quiet and leave. When you feel like you’ve finally gotten to him, he’ll come back with piles of ash and have you guess what it is. He’ll say that if you keep acting like this, more people will suffer on your behalf.

By this point, there’s a good chance you’ll have calmed down your behavior to stop antagonizing him. He’ll remind you of this, praising you but in a twisted sort of way. “I knew you’d come around eventually.”

[schrodingersdetective]

★

Akechi still stands by the idea that Crowley only attempts to help him because she looks at him and sees Goro or herself, but damnit, she seems to have wormed her way into his head, somehow.

Unfortunately, Akechi would classify the second he met Crowley in person as one of the worst moments in his life. It shoved a lot at him, all at once: 

There was no way she could’ve gotten to his apartment that quickly unless she lived in the area, and he had never seen her in his 4 years of dwelling there.

Something about her presence, beyond the fact that she was there, set him on edge- when she performed magic for him to further prove herself, he realized he must’ve sensed that, somehow.

She immediately realized exactly why ‘Asato’ had been so insistent that Goro could not be Goro Akechi, and the shock on her face because of it was a look he’d been trying his hardest to avoid for the past 4 years.

Because she recognized him, she was either a Detective Prince fangirl or Goro was really who he said he was, but the previous notes lent themselves to the latter.

Paired with the fact that she performed magic outside of the metaverse and everything else?: oh fuck, nobody was lying.

Hence why Akechi simply allowed her inside, set a mug of tea in front of her, and tried his damnedest not to have a panic attack.

And that made every caring statement after she came into his apartment worse. “You deserve your privacy and a chance to start over. Are you safe here? Do you have options? I’m here if you want my help. I’m sorry you were treated that way. No, I wasn’t the cause but it still hurt you.”

She should know who she’s talking to. She told him Goro had given her a lot. So instead of going with the idea that because she knows Goro, she understood what he was doing and disagreed with it and she was giving him a chance out o the isolation he’d put himself in, Akechi decided that it meant that she just saw him as a copy of the other. That the only reason Crowley was bothering was because he was just Goro going through a difficult time, or because she was projecting onto him and wanted to be her own savior through him.

It reminded him of Akira, and it honestly made him hate every second of that visit, which I’m sure got across to some level.

And then she left and messaged him more! God, how infuriating, that she just keeps messaging. Maybe if he answers and shows off more of how he thinks and feels without a proper filter, Crowley will fuck off, uncomfortable with everything to the point she can’t ignore it.

...It hasn’t worked. All it’s really done is somehow turn her into a fussy mother crow, checking in on him, offering to tell people to leave him alone when he offhandedly mentioned he probably wasn’t going to have a choice in someone visiting him, or that Pythiaba was nosing through his blog.

So, while he’ll continue to swear up and down that he hates it, it’s a lie. Just like with Goro, he doesn’t think he deserves that sort of care, but it’s nice to hear it. And he’s... curious about her. He assumed from the start that she was projecting a bit, but to what extent? What’s so similar? He’s not sure yet. He hasn’t asked.

He may soon, though, because that magic anon actually made him worried about Crowley.

When Akechi saw her posts, he realized something was up. Sure, people can have off days, but really? Crowley, acting like this over a pet? Doubtful. So he made a comment to get her attention, didn’t say too much beyond pointing out she was lying about the attitude change and that she should probably stop posting before she chased people away. The response to that- “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind in case I ever get a pressing urge to talk to people I don’t care about“- that’s what told him that something had happened.

Crowley acted like she cared too much about Akechi. There was no way she didn’t care for Goro.

Hinata messaged him shortly after, requesting that he stop antagonizing her, and they actually went back and forth for a while about possible causes. Akechi claimed not to care enough to scour her blog for a Magic Anon post, but he absolutely did. He wasn’t able to help Crowley, in the end- he doesn’t have magic like everyone else, really- which he dislikes.

However, he thinks that everyone who took her words as her honest feelings is a fool. Surely, more than just Hinata and himself realized this wasn’t really her? It was such a switch, it didn’t even seem plausible to be inner thoughts to Akechi!

Apparently not, though. 

Akechi suspects Crowley needs better friends.

For now, he’ll stick with letting her know that he knew it wasn’t really her, and hint at his own concern. Just a bit.

It’s not like he cares about her or anything. He’s just being honest about what he saw.

[onewfantaesy]

In prankster au, Taemin spends a good amount of time with Luna and Onew. Luna is stil close with their father, and she gets along well enough with her step-mother, and Taemin has just adored her since he was born. She was 23 when Taemin was born, so she’s been the go-to babysitter his entire life. Taemin absolutely loves her, and Luna has been dating Onew since before Taemin was born, so he doesn’t know any different.

“Luna, Luna, Luna,” Taemin sings when Onew unlocks the door. Taemin usually stays at their house after school until his mother gets off work and comes to pick him up.

“Taemin, Taemin, Taemin,” she sings back from where she’s folding laundry in the living room. “How was school?”

“Terrible because Onew was mean to me.”

“What?”

Luna looks shocked, a little concerned, and then just sighs.

“What did you do this time?” She asks.

“Nothin’!” Taemin whines, flopping onto the couch to cling to her side. When she gives him a pointed look, he pouts and mumbles, “M’teacher found fake bugs in my backpack.”

“Again?”

“But I didn’t do anything with ‘em!”

“Did you get detention again?”

“No,” Taemin mumbles, fiddling with Luna’s shirt. “But I gotta sit on the bench at recess the rest of the week.”

Luna sighs and puts a hand on his head, “Oh, Taemin.”

“Mommy ‘n Daddy gotta sign a slip ‘cause of it.”

“Well they need to know you got in trouble again.”

“But it’s not a detention!” Taemin clarifies, sticking a finger up as if to prove a point. “So Daddy can’t take my Pokémon games away!”

“That’s up for Daddy to decide,” Luna tells him.

“Tell him not to,” Taemin whines. “Tell him I wasn’t doing it to be bad, it was for my friends!”

“Why don’t you tell him that yourself?”

“‘Cause he’ll believe you more.”

“Tell me everything that happened,” she coos, smoothing back his hair and sending a quick smirk to Onew when he scoffs and passes behind the couch to go change in their bedroom.

“Well it started with Chanyeol being a jerkoff during PE-”

“Don’t say jerkoff, that’s not nice.”

“Chanyeol’s not nice!”

“Not saying bad words will help you get your point across that you weren’t being bad,” Luna explains.

“Fine, it started with Chanyeol being a meanie during PE.”

“That’s better. Tell me the rest.”

Onew comes back a few minutes later, and Taemin is already done telling his little tale. Before he forgets though, Onew leans over the back of the couch and taps Taemin’s head.

“Hey, you,” Onew says, waiting for Taemin to look up at him. “Go get that bag of fake bugs. Now, please.”

“Why?” Taemin whines, but he pulls his backpack up and pulls out the bag of fake cockroaches and centipedes. When Onew takes it from him, Taemin whines even louder. “Hey! What’re you doin’ with it?”

“These bugs, wherever you got them from, have only gotten you in trouble the last couple weeks. They should have been confiscated a long time ago.”

“You said you’re not a teacher when we’re at home!” Taemin accuses. “Give ‘em back!”

“I’m not confiscating them as the vice principal, but as a concerned family member.”

“You’re not my dad, you can’t take my stuff!”

Taemin is kneeling on the couch now, reaching up to try and grab the bag from Onew’s hands.

“Give it back, give it back!”

“Why are you getting so upset?” Luna asks, trying to get Taemin to sit back down. Then she turns to Onew. “And you! Stop antagonizing him!”

“These bugs have been nothing but trouble!”

“They’re mine!”

“Don’t yell at me,” Onew warns him.

“Stop acting like my dad, you’re annoying!”

“You know what’s annoying?” Onew asks him. “Having your little brother-in-law get in trouble almost every other day and having to discipline him constantly. You’re in fourth grade, Taemin. You shouldn’t be getting in this much trouble.”

“I’m not in high school!” Taemin snaps back. “I don’t have’ta be responsible yet!”

“Why don’t you both just calm down?” Luna insists, pulling Taemin to sit down and look at her. “Why do you want these bugs so bad?”

“Because they’re mine,” Taemin cries, his face turning red.

“Where did you get them?”

“From the pier! They were just throwin’ them out!”

“Oh jeez, the ones from the balloon popping game?” She asks. When Taemin nods, she sighs. “I thought they looked familiar.”

“Can I have them back now?” Taemin whines.

“I think,” Luna says carefully, not wanting to upset him, “that you can live without them for a week or so. When your mommy comes to pick you up, I think we’ll talk about it with her.”

Taemin whines and falls against her lap.

“Will you just tell me why you’re so upset?”

“I don’t want Daddy to take my games away,” he whines, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s not fair.”

“If Daddy said you would get your games taken away if you got in trouble again, I think that’s very fair,” Luna says.

“That’s ‘cause you’re a grown-up.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Grown-ups are all mean and stupid and have no fun and make everything boring,” Taemin snaps.

“That’s not very nice,” Luna teases. “You’ve been getting in trouble a lot lately. Daddy gave you a warning about what would happen if you got in trouble again so soon. And you didn’t listen, or you didn’t take it seriously, and now that’s coming back to bite you in the butt. The only person you have to be upset with is yourself.”

“And Chanyeol.”

“You should have told a teacher he was being mean to your friends when it was happening,” she tells him. “You can’t punish him yourself. That’s not how it works.”

“But then I’d be a snitch.”

“Taemin,” she sighs, running her fingers through his hair. “There’s just no pleasing you, is there?”

“No.”

“Will you tell me what else has got you so upset?”

Taemin pouts and looks towards Onew before whispering, “Only if he isn’t listening.”

Luna turns to Onew, shares a confused look with him, and then shoos him out of the room. Once he’s gone, Luna looks at Taemin with a very worried expression on her face.

“What happened?” she whispers. “Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Taemin mutters, moving to lean against her side and play with her hair. “I dunno. Sorta.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“It’s just,” Taemin stutters, a catch in his voice. He won’t look at Luna. “He always - he’s meaner to me than he is to anyone else and it’s not fair and it’s just ‘cause - ‘cause he knows me and it’s not fair and he didn’t have Ravi or Kai or Moonkyu in his office as long as he had me in there and it’s not fair and he didn’t even have Chanyeol in there as long as me and why does he think I’m so bad?”

“Oh, baby,” she sighs, holding him close and trying her best to comfort him. “It’s not that he thinks your bad. You’re not bad at all! You’re just a little bit of a troublemaker, that’s all. And he probably kept you in there longest because he knew he could get the whole truth out of you. It’s not that he thinks you’re bad, honest.”

“I wanna go home.”

“Well you’re stuck with us for another couple hours,” she teases. “Come on. Do you need help with your homework?”

“I only want you to help me,” he whines.

“That’s fine,” she says quickly. “Get your homework out, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Taemin pouts at her, looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. He just gets his homework out and pretends he doesn’t hear her go tell Onew off for making Taemin so worried.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

a handful of fun-or-something selections from my four separate attempts at writing a benston fic (prior to the s5 premiere evidently lol). shit is On Brand in there. ordered vaguely along the lines of [most Depressive Introspection] <-> [most Things Almost Actually Happening]

"Ben's talked to him after they were in a meeting together, sure, but also when Winston was having lunch, or sitting at his desk, or waiting outside Taylor's office to bring them a weekly report and maybe having selected that particular time to do so because he knew Ben was around. But why wouldn't Ben talk to him specifically, and even seek him out? He's in charge of Taylor's quant department, it's probably only polite, and Ben's always polite—to Winston, and to the other higher-ups, but also to other random analysts, and really anyone he meets. And if the way Ben treats him during their interactions always seems kind and gentle to the point of carefulness, or maybe delicacy, it's probably only because, from the very start, Winston has been flustered and tongue-tied around Ben, sometimes so unprepared to be in his presence that it makes him tense. If anything, Ben's probably a friendly enough person to feel bad for Winston, the social inept, unpopular computer nerd who really doesn't have anything going for him and is less on top of things than ever when Ben's around.

He can't let himself start thinking maybe Ben likes me, too? Maybe just a little? because there's absolutely nothing to indicate this. Ben's nice to everyone. He's given Ben nothing to like. It makes sense for him to catch feelings for Ben, of course, but no sense for Ben to be having the same experience over him, of all possible people. He can humor himself just a little, enjoy getting to talk with such a thoroughly lovely person, maybe even try to tentatively flirt—as long as he can remember there's only going to be one outcome. If he does nothing, he won't have a relationship with Ben. If he outright asks him on a date, he won't have a relationship with Ben. And if he tries for some compromise—like allowing for the fact that maybe Ben really was specifically hoping Winston would show tonight, and strategically sitting near him but not too near him, and seeing what happens—he won't have a relationship with Ben."

_

"But then again, they don't seem that keen on being friendly with anyone at all in the first place. Less competition - though if Ben hasn't turned the heads of any other Mase Cappers a radian or two, Winston wouldn't understand it either, though it might encourage him a little more. Despite how warm and patient and welcoming Ben is, Winston doesn't even know if he's single. Or if he's interested in men. Or if he'd be interested in Winston. And despite the fact they're technically coworkers and Ben's willing to be a go-between, maybe he's not willing to get romantically entangled with anyone from Mase Cap.

And it'd be easy for Winston to just beat himself up and call himself a coward for not simply acknowledging his interest in Ben and shooting his shot, but he knows that the level of rejection he often inspires in people goes beyond a simple "no." In some way it might be a relief to have Ben definitively turn him down - he'd just be able to set the crush aside and not end up pining his way to greater heartache. He's not exactly afraid of that; he'd be disappointed but completely unsurprised. It's the possibility he'd make Ben uncomfortable. His smile might flicker at the sight of Winston. He might want to avoid Winston to the point it could interfere with work somehow. Winston might have to watch Ben's expression fall once he infers Winston's meaning, and that thought alone is disheartening enough to keep him from going for it."

_

"He had to admit he was sometimes afraid of this, enough to linger in a relationship with someone he knew didn't even like him all that much, but who still sometimes kissed the corner of his jaw or got into bed with him."

_

"And, hell, maybe a cashier at a bodega near Ben's apartment is crushing on him. It's obvious just from a moment with Ben—Winston must have so much competition.

And what's he offering against anyone else? He might head a department at Taylor Mason's fund, but even that's probably not enough to make his career as a quant seem glamorous to anybody besides another quant. He blends into a crowd or even a small group; there's nothing strikingly attractive about him like there is with Ben. He's not charismatic or charming. People don't really take to him—he's been all too aware of this for a long time. Even if he were to go up to Ben and make some sort of move—try to flirt or just try to make any kind of positive, lasting impression—he'd surely just cement himself in Ben's mind as annoying, offputting, awkward, or any combination thereof. 

Also, Ben might be straight. Or maybe he's already with someone. Of course Winston isn't going to go up to Mafee or Taylor and ask about Ben's sexual orientation or relationship status. But even without confirmation one way or another, there's no reason to think that Ben's available, or interested in guys, much less interested in Winston in particular.

The fact that Winston is trying to convince himself to keep his hopes down, though, probably means he's already gotten his hopes up too much."

_

"He was well-aware that he was lonely. And he'd had bad experiences from a setup like this - maybe leaning too hard into a crush because he was hard-up for something positive and wanted a new relationship to change things for him - and he'd simply get turned down in varyingly embarrassing ways, or spend a while agonizing over how to make any sort of move, only to eventually judge that the interest was not at all mutual, or end up with someone who wasn't that great to be with, and be stuck there for months longer than he wanted, because he was the one who wanted this in the first place."

_

"But he's supposed to be managing this crush, not indulging it to the point it runs away from him. So he has to be okay with the probability that he might not catch Ben's attention at all tonight, save maybe for a cursory greeting and/or goodbye. And why should he expect more? He shouldn't. But he'll put himself in the position to have a chance. Because a workplace crush is okay if he keeps himself grounded and realistic about it—if it's just some small, private embellishment to his day, harmless, just adding this aspect of fun and color to what can often be a fairly lonely and dreary workweek."

_

"Nowadays, with Taylor Mason Capital a supposedly temporary subsidiary of its supposedly former rival, Axe Capital, it's hard to imagine what could properly compensate for the daily stress levels. And Winston knows he doesn't have it half as hard as Taylor does - they're keeping their feet under themself as always, and it's hardly as though he never saw them unhappy, tense, or worried during their fund's first year, but there's an edge to them so frequently now, coiled and guarded, which he hates to see but completely understands. Worse, he has to be grateful for some of the additional stress they're heaping on themself. Taylor works to protect him and their other employees from not only Axe himself, but the pettiest bullies and hotshots and every struggling analyst with something to prove. It's miserable for all of them, stuck in the same office as these people who barely bother to temper their obvious antagonism.

In this situation, there's a head-turning gleam to the least silver lining. So "in having to work alongside these people, you also get to work alongside Ben Kim" is like sunshine.

Of course Winston had noticed Ben the first time the core Mase Cap team strode together into the heart of Axe Capital HQ. A guy standing at the front, obviously attractive, and the double endorsements in the form of another Axe Capper shutting him down but Mafee returning his greeting meant that Winston could admit to himself that Ben was cute. A bright smile, a baritone to make you weak in the knees - Winston had kept a wary eye on everyone and everything around him all that day, but this only made it easier to periodically glance at Ben."

_

"The closest he ever got to a usable moment falling into his lap was the time Ben and another Axe Capper (one of the less aggressive ones, luckily) rode the elevator up from the lobby with Winston and Lauren. Winston had been rendered incapable of speaking, but Lauren kept up a fun, relaxed exchange for the duration of the ride, and Winston at least managed to look back and forth between the others, following the conversation, and when they were two floors away Ben caught his eye and smiled and Winston immediately smiled in return and couldn't entirely stop smiling until he'd been settled in at his desk for a solid ten minutes or so - and it would've taken longer for the mood boost to dissipate if any workday's baseline stress level weren't so high."

_

“"But formally meeting Ben just the once was more than enough to make an impression. It wasn't a situation where Ben wasn't as nice up close and personal, or where his face fell when Winston introduced himself - in fact, he'd smiled brighter, and Winston's hand had tightened in Ben's, and once again, Ben's expression didn't sink in the slightest. Winston spent that meeting trying to play it safe - only speak when directly asked a question. And spontaneously jumped into the middle of an exchange only three times. And at the end of that meeting, Ben's lovely, kind smile hadn't closed off to him at all.

Winston doesn't like having crushes. But despite what most people think of him, he's not clueless. Which is why he knows that most people think he's clueless. And it took about twenty minutes to know he had a crush on Ben, and, within a week of having met each other's eyes and exchanged smiles, he knew his interest in Ben wasn't going to evaporate overnight. But this wasn't the first time Winston had been in this situation, and he knew better than to just sink into the warmth and fuzziness."

_

"As he listened, he thought Taylor seemed slightly more relaxed than usual—it was a subtle difference, and although he was usually tuned into Taylor's wavelength with precision, it also might be wishful thinking on his part, wanting to see the best in Ben, like Taylor was indirectly endorsing him."

_

"He's already thought about Ben like that, too. Not so much outright fantasizing as with the pleasant memories of his ex, more of just...wondering. Exploring, almost. He's had plenty of fleeting thoughts at the offices, noticing things that were attractive about Ben from afar. Watching his arms as he leaned back in his chair and stretched them overhead, focusing on the lowness of his voice when he trailed off to complete a thought in a murmur, letting himself glance at the occasional emergence of scruff along his jawline, at his lips, at the small wedge of bared skin at the open collar of a button-up. Whenever he's actually directly interacting with Ben, though, or even close enough to him, that observation of Ben's attractiveness loses granularity. He's hit with so many aspects of him at once and just gets swept up in the experience."

_

"Winston's generally aware when Ben drops in, even when Winston's just spending the whole day at his desk. In part because Ben tends to swing by to greet his team at some point before leaving, which...he has to do just to be nice. Nobody has any incentive to schmooze with the quants. Especially not fundamental analysts from a the fund which is only technically an affiliate because their CEO wants to feel like he's got their CEO in a cage. But Ben appears for at least a moment anyways, smiling and soft-spoken, asking if they're okay today. He never looks at Winston first but inevitably does, like he's deliberately holding off on it, and Winston meets his gaze in that moment because he's waiting for it, and Ben smiles a little wider with a nod, and Winston twitches his shoulders up and smiles faintly in return. 

He's reading into these kinds of routine moments, and that means he's sitting poolside on the verge of slipping right in too deep."

_

"He was also told that he would need to attend such a meeting that upcoming Thursday—that he didn't have to prepare anything, or even really expect to say anything at all, but should be present in case this Axe Cap liaison had any questions regarding the quant team. Once he stepped into the meeting room and saw Ben sitting beside Sara, it immediately clicked—the beautiful, velvet-voiced man who'd been friendly to Taylor and Mafee. It made perfect sense he'd be the one willing to regularly visit Mase Cap headquarters—it just hadn't occurred to Winston to think he might be this lucky.

He'd hesitated at the sight of him, caught up in a double-take, which gave Ben plenty of time to look over and meet his gaze and at once offer a smile. Small, but still incandescant. With that alone, Winston decided he needed to figure out a word for this effect that hit him where he stood, making any sense of self-possession scatter from his grasp like dropped papers. What was it called when a moment of "a guy this cute smiling at the sight of you" caused you to careen down a tangled mental tangent of word-invention when all you should be doing is acting like a regular person who knows how to smile and nod and sit down—instead of staring breathlessly at him for half a second too long like you've never seen another person before, then be somewhat mentally overwhelmed by the task of figuring out which chair to take?

Taylor had spoken up then, offering him something of a reset by introducing him to Ben by name, then vice versa. Ben Kim, Winston had told himself, firmly suppressing any mild panic as Ben again turned to him, smiled, and leaned in to shake his hand. Don't let this keep you from remembering his name. Ben Kim, Ben Kim—his handshake was solid, but not the aggressive-assertive clasp you'd maybe expect from some random high finance businessperson wanting every interaction to be a power struggle. Hands warm. Ben Kim. Ben Kim. Winston managed to flicker a smile in return, hoping his nervous tension wasn't going to read like he was offput by Ben, or trying to act distant, or anything at all—regardless of how pleasant and attractive Ben was, it just made sense to want the Axe Cap go-between to like him, to make a good impression for Taylor's sake if nothing else. But his thumb twitched against Ben's as they ended the handshake, and Winston blinked in a flurry but couldn't make himself look away first, so they were just looked at each other for another moment, and he probably seemed ridiculous, if not incompetent."

[annhellsing]

The Sawhorse.

Notes: this bad boy’s a direct, long-overdue sequel to the drawbridge which you can read right over yonder!!! Rating: she’s still sfw. Pairing: alucard / female reader. Word count: 3,321

“This place is a conspiracy,” you say with a half-glance over your shoulder. Adrian guides you from a decidedly rear position, you walk ahead of him with no idea of where you’re going. 

“In what way?” he asks, you can’t help your smile. He takes everything so seriously, it’s charming. 

“In the way that I don’t know for sure at any given point if the room I’ve just been in will exist once I’ve left it!” you exclaim and to your never ending joy, Adrian joins you in smiling. He seems bashful about the castle’s intricacies, disturbed by its strangeness. You like it here, absolutely, but it’s a learning curve. 

“When I was a child I wondered the same thing. But there are a few, key rooms that always manage to stay in one place.” You slow your steps enough to let him fall in line next to you. Getting close to him in any sense is impossible, but he allows it this time. 

“How polite of them,” you say. It’s honest facetiousness on your part, but you can’t help the little shiver that runs up your spine all the same. 

This place isn’t haunted, he is. Adrian walks with memories of the living and the dead, you hear him whispering to the shadows sometimes. But it never fills you with fear, you’ve found. Only sadness, deep-rooted sadness that you wish you didn’t understand. 

He’s sparse with personal details, but you’ve coaxed from him an admission that the large hole leading from the second floor corridor to the library was caused by a heroic attempt at patricide. 

Adrian’s caught you in a tiny children’s bed room with a hideous bloodstain permanently affixed to the floor. You were apologizing for weeks and the door is now locked. 

His home is largely, however, yours to explore. Despite the odd dissonance between  the mystery of what happened here and the way he seems unwilling to feel things, you could be happy here. 

All you wish for, you suppose, is a chance to help him. 

You’ve never seen him cry but the remnants of redness around his eyes is unmistakable. There’s a monster in your woods and he is so terribly alone. 

Perhaps it’s why you visit as often as you do. Your fascination with his mother’s life’s work is real, gripping you in a way you’re familiar with. But to say that the attraction is purely intellectual would be a blatant lie. 

He has friends, this Adrian. One of them wields a whip and is a Belmont, something you have to learn how to accept. The stories, despite their exaggerated details, run deep. The other friend is a woman, the magic user with the quick hands. You could smell the crackling electricity of her power despite never laying eyes on her. 

How difficult it must be for him to exist in the stillness of her wake with only a head full of too-realistic memories and lightning on the air. 

It isn’t as if you’ve experienced any grand adventures with him. But as you’re taken back to the library you’re reminded that may not be so terrible a thing. 

You watch the gaping hole in the wall. It does not move, never does but you can feel it watching you. You pick up books even still, months after the catastrophic battle and mourn a few, singed pages. 

“Will you stay with me?” You ask when he begins to look uncomfortable in the space that should be home. It’s unfair to ask this him, you know it, but you can’t help but feel an all-consuming urge to give him company. He meditates too much in his father’s empty chair. 

“If that’s what you wish,” he replies, “the filing here has certainly seen better days.” Adrian assumes the role of library catalogue and you don’t have the heart to let that stand.

“I know where things are,” you start, adding in at the last second, “but I wouldn’t rely on that, of course.” You hear a soft exhale behind you, a reserved laugh from your most esteemed companion. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Of course,” Adrian continues, but seems to consider what you’ve said more carefully. He hums, brief and tuneless as if contemplating the options before asking, “What about?” 

“Things,” you say, it isn’t very helpful. You place a book back on a shelf and look at him again. His expression is unsatisfied. “You’re very nearly a patron of my studies but I know almost nothing about you.” 

Only that he had a mother who died for what you’re attempting to continue. And his father was Dracula, wasn’t that a nasty shock? 

“Perhaps it’s better that way,” he replies. It’s a dark thing to say, but he delivers it with the air-light tone that accompanies most of his jokes. You grin at him, broadly. 

“I’d like to know you,” you aren’t sure why you decide on that, but it makes him break eye contact quickly. “Can I ask you something?” 

After a short pause, Adrian makes his decision. 

“Yes,” he says and he’s looking at you again. But the smile is gone from his eyes, they’re lukewarm and on the edge of confused. Rather than mill about between ruined stacks of books, you sink into a nearby armchair. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” it’s a safe enough question, the first that popped into your head. Bizarrely, you admit, you want to see that smile in his eyes again. It works with some success. 

“My what?” he puts thought into his answer when you repeat yourself with a childish giggle. The man makes a show out of it, sitting int he armchair perpendicular to yours and resting his chin on his fist. “I’ve never given it much thought. Perhaps burgundy, or purple.” 

You chime in with your agreement on purple just as he turns his head. Windows are scarce in the castle, something you find deeply oppressive, but one is angled perfectly facing the north wall. 

Adrian casts his eyes towards it and says, “Blue, actually. My favourite colour is blue.” 

The daylight outside shines with a benevolence that he’s missed for years. Adrian doesn’t stare at it for very long, looking back to you as if he hopes you didn’t notice a thing.

It calls another question to your mind, one with heavier implications than a favourite colour. The pause makes him uncomfortable as you debate asking, but ultimately decide it’ll do no harm.

“You can walk in the sunlight?” you ask. After another beat, he nods. “Are all dhampir’s so lucky?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met another.” he looks at you with a terrible uncertainty that you want to end. You restrict your questions to surface-level stuff. 

“Blue’s a good colour, it’s very heroic,” you say. You’re not sure why, but that makes him smile again. 

“If you think so,” the conversation lapses into a comfortable silence after that, with books returned to their proper shelves. Every so often you’re distracted by something anatomical. You’re shocked at the sheer volume of manuscripts.

“My whole lifetime’s passed in the space between when some of these textbooks were written,” you say over your shoulder. Adrian hums, but the bridge of his thin nose is stuffed in a book of poems. 

“It’s a shame,” he replies, as if to prove he’s listening.

“Isn’t it just? If there were more arguments about these sorts of things— perhaps a bit less fear of the church—” you’ve picked up a dusty-looking copy of Galen’s On the Natural Faculties and now sneer at the cover. 

A complaint about taboos surrounding the dissection of human bodies for scientific purposes dies on your tongue when you look at Adrian. He’s stiff at the shoulders, no longer reading his book but instead staring at the far wall. 

Something you said’s upset him, clearly. But he presents as otherwise unbothered a few seconds after you noticed. You frown and set Galen aside, ready to antagonize him another day. 

“Adrian?” you ask. There’s a minute flinch when the sound of his name lands on his ears. “Did I—”

The book closes with a hollow thunk, placed on the seat-side table very quickly. You’re almost afraid he’ll stand and leave, leave you without even a parting word. But Adrian looks to you, his head cocked to the side. 

“Did you what?” he asks. But you’re unfazed. Very few things your certain about, but you said something that concerned him. Still, if he doesn’t want to talk about it—

“Never mind,” you say, casting a sorry glance back at all the books. But you have to make up for whatever it is hurt Adrian. You hold out a hand and motion for him to follow you as you leave the room.

“Where are we going?” he’s beside you in a flurry of blond hair and black coat. It’s almost shocking, but you smile up at him and utter nary a gasp. You’re getting good at this. 

The library sets you on edge, you want to say. You do not. 

“Since you’re a daywalker, quite like myself, I thought you might want to walk. In the day, I mean,” you explain. You look at him so fondly, Adrian’s inability to speak for a few, precious seconds couldn’t have anything to do with that, right? 

“You did ask me to stay with you,” he replies. 

“Mhm,” you hum, “and you agreed. It’s too nice a day to be reading, I think I’d like to hunt for herbs.” 

There is no room in the castle identified as belonging to you, but a little alcove on the second floor has become something of a home-away-from-home. Your basket sits there in the late-afternoon sunlight and your battered journal sits within it. 

You take it on one arm and hold the other out for Adrian. That beaming, lovely smile makes him take it. He wants, quietly, not to see that smile fade. 

“Do you get out much?” you ask, walking through the throne room that smells like old dead and dust. “Not a judgement, just a question,” you add. 

“If you asked a handful of years ago, the answer would’ve been yes,” he replies. You’re nearly surprised he does. “It’s less true, now.” 

“All the more reason to walk. The castle is stunning, but—” Adrian cuts you off as he glances at the high-vaulted ceiling. You’re given a quick, casual smirk. 

“It’s as oppressive,” he begins, “as it is wondrous.” 

“I would never say something so insulting about your home,” you reply with an air of faux-offence. Adrian’s nudged gently in the ribs by your elbow, a gesture that brings back sudden memories of a woman in blue robes. “But you have all the right to, I shan’t disagree.”

He recovers, not wanting a repeat of the scene that played out in the library. You walk very close to him, it’s not unpleasant. 

The sunshine greets you when he pushes the heavy door open. It’s chilly, though lovely and you start off down the steps with Adrian in tow. If you were to look back, you’d see his momentary look of shock before it melted into sentiment. 

You’ve done your best to wear a path away from the castle, but you veer off into the woods instead of taking him home. 

You’re made happy by all the things meant to bring humans joy.  There are smiles given to every delicate touch of nature, the singing birds and the rushing river winding onward towards a lake. Adrian’s never been there, you suppose. Perhaps one day you’ll convince him. 

But not today, you tell yourself. This is just a short walk, something of an apology and a way to brighten his dour mood. 

Adrian lets him leave you, in spite of how much he was enjoying your warmth at his side. You rush to the river, journal in hand to compare botanical drawings. 

You left your pen in the alcove on the second floor, he noticed. It’s where you do your writing, the window with the best view to look out on. But, he knows as you skim through the pages of your mother’s medical journal, you’ve run out of space. 

Nothing his father ever did was right, Adrian knows that. But he can still admit that the human tendency to dangle knowledge just out of the reach of those who could do it best is thoughtlessly cruel. 

“Ah!” you exclaim and successfully pull him from his thoughts. Adrian’s not sure what it says about him that he assumes you’ve been hurt. 

You’re on your knees by the riverbed, however, delighting in some plant of intense fascination. You look at him over your shoulder. 

“Lavender bushes, Adrian!” you wave him over. “Not the most exciting thing in the world but exactly what I’ve been running low on.” 

“How interesting,” he says. There’s an unexpected truth to the way he says it, like he might actually be interested. “What do you use it for?” 

“Poultices,” you tell him, “something to ease aches and pains.” 

He hums again, still interested but unwilling to leer over your shoulder. You stand with a fistful of purple buds and look them over very carefully. 

“They’re good for sleep tonics, too,” you continue.

He can pinpoint the exact second another question pops into your head. It’s alarmingly charming.

“Do you sleep?” you ask. Before he can answer, you keep talking. “No,” you pause, before seeming to think the better of it, “what do I know?” 

“More than most,” Adrian admits it easily. He’s smiling though he hasn’t fully noticed he’s doing it. It’s a truly welcome sight. “But I do— sleep, that is. In a sense. I did for a year underneath a city named Gresit.” 

Your eyes widen, just as he expected them to. It’s uncommon he encounters fascination instead of horror. 

Adrian lets the sun warm his face as you ask him the how, the when, the why. 

“My father’s rage was limitless after the death of my mother,” he says. You tilt your head again, that curiosity abating for the sake of decency.

To your credit, you look genuinely sorry for his loss. 

“He lashed out against me when I tried to stop him,” Adrian continues, “I needed time to recuperate.” 

“You needn’t hear again from me how awful that sounds,” you say, “but you know your father was very sick when he hurt you.” 

“Yes,” Adrian says. The light and the warmth and the beauty around him feels very cold all of a sudden. It’s distant, untouchable. Even in the face of happiness, he finds ways to make himself miserable. 

You could read the sorrow on his face for miles, it’s what forces your hand. It makes you reach out, picking up not his arm but his cold hand this time. 

Adrian allows it, though he’s uncertain as to why. His hand is held, palm-up as if expectant of a gift.

You thought once that whatever lived in such a hellish place might demand offerings. Blood, bones, body parts came to mind even though all you carried were petals. But flowers, you find, suffice when you put the prettiest-looking lavender spring in the cup of his palm.

“Beautiful and practical,” you tell him with a knowing smile, “not unlike yourself.” 

Adrian stares at the flower to keep from staring at you. Its short, stiff petals are unbothered by the gentle breeze that’s blowing your hair away from your eyes. 

You’ve never seen Dhampir tears, but for a moment Adrian is terrified that you might. His long fingers close carefully around the little spring, he summons up a thankful smile and swallows the lump pressing at his throat. 

It’s difficult to describe, the way you speak about his father might be misinformed or lenient but they’re near-exactly how Adrian thinks of him. When you speak about a tired, lost, deeply ill man named Dracula it is with the full honesty that you’ve never in your life thought about killing him. 

You never wanted to do him harm, Adrian wonders if something like that could ever belong in such a giving heart. You listen to the breadcrumbs of information he drops about the man who raised him, you pick through the underbrush like a magpie searching for little treasures. 

Adrian misses Trevor every day, Sypha several times every day. But they never thought of his father as something once human. You do. You’re so very sorry. 

“My mother’s name was Lisa,” he says very suddenly. “It occurs to me I never told you the name of the woman who’s body of work you now learn from.” 

“Lisa,” you repeat, willing to let any prior topic lie still in the grass. Poor Adrian, you think. “I couldn’t find any names in the journals, they were all in first person.” 

You reach into your basket, dropping lavender springs too ugly for his hand on top of the leather cover of your hand-me-down journal. But you touch the torn cover so gently, like comforting an old friend. 

“She reminds me so much of the person I wanted to be— when I saw my mother work, that is,” you say. 

“There’s far too much knowledge shut up in Dracula’s castle for it to waste away,” Adrian admits. 

He’s managed to make eye contact again, his hand holding the gift of lavender is carefully placed in his pocket. It retracts, empty.

“I like to think it’s better for it to be read,” you start, “instead of ending up as bedding for the rats.” 

Alistair’s soft, strange laugh rustles like the tree leaves overhead again. You’ve heard it before and tend to when you make jokes more macabre than would be welcome in polite company. You allow yourself to smile alone. 

“It’s not my castle that’s infested,” he says, “but if it is, they likely crawled up from the old Belmont library.” 

You resist the urge to shudder again at the name. You can’t help that you’re most familiar with lies, although Adrian hardly seems to notice your bodily, negative reaction.

“You’re so mean to someone you’re so fond of,” you say, “I hope to meet this Trevor Belmont one day, if only so he can know just how much you care.” 

“And what makes you think I’m fond of him?” Adrian asks. His laugh’s died but his smile’s still there. He shows off two, white fangs without a thought towards scaring you. They never have before. 

In fact, you lean in with your basket of flowers and grin back. No fear in your eyes, it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. 

“You feel,” you tell him with a delicate huff. You’re moving again, stepping around his curiously tall form. At the last second, your shoulder brushes against him. “I’d have to be blind not to notice it.” 

Adrian doesn’t know if it’s mercy that keeps you from jabbing at the sore spot of his emotions. He was open with Sypha and Trevor, for the most part. But you’re painfully new, potentially not to be trusted. But he doesn’t like the confidence with which you make such a statement, even if it is true. He doesn’t know your intentions. 

You start off without another word, again. It’s becoming a habit, both you walking and him following. You take to the path again, swinging your basket. The half-turn of your head tells him you were at least slightly worried he wouldn’t come. 

That extra smile, the one that makes it look best like you care is a needless addition. It only serves to strike his sternum, to make the inside of his chest thump with a useless heartbeat. 

He’s never had need of it before, Adrian knows. He wanders back to the castle with you.

[myherorp]

THE QUIRK DATABASE HAS BEEN UPDATED !

incoming information on villain, red.

get to know them !

faceclaim: lee taemin 

name: jo kioh

villain name: red

gender & pronouns: male, he/him

age: 26

association: none

occupation: thief, informant

reputation: he’s not all too well known, but that’s something kioh’s tried hard to do. he doesn’t really find satisfaction in infamy. it just seems like a lot of work, but then again, it’s not like his power is incredibly useful. find the right circles, and they might have something to say about red. annoying, with a hood pulled up and half-hiding, too nosey for his own good and with a mouth on him. it’s only when he talks too much, knows too much, and that’s when it’s learned that he’s got a quirk. it doesn’t matter how much you try and rearrange him, he’ll go and put everything back in the right order. it only crosses the line into dangerous if he knows too much about you. and that’s the good part of blending in, nobody cares about telling things to someone they think is unimportant. one might liken him to a rat, and kioh would likely shrug and agree.

the quirk !

quirk name: regenerative healing

quirk description: this mutation allows for kioh to heal rapidly from any physical injury or ailment due to cellular regeneration. it allows for him to recreate lost organs or appendages (such as limbs) without leaving behind a trace of injury (scarring). due to the fact that the mutation is constantly working to regenerate itself if something is wrong or broken, it means that kioh is usually in top physical condition as he is constantly in the process of reverting back to a healthy state.

abilities:

self repair: all physical injuries are repaired through regeneration of cells. time may vary depending on the severity of the wound or injury.

inexhaustible stamina: since the body is repaired within moments of being broken down, it is near impossible for him to overexert himself or to put strain on himself in a way that would cause fatigue. however, it is possible for kioh to essentially ‘run out of fuel’ and pass out due to the body attempting to repair itself with he does not have enough in way of energy to do so while he is still physically moving.

disease immunity: due to the mutation constantly regenerating and repairing cells, a disease would not have enough time to take effect on the host.

weaknesses: 

while kioh obtains the ability to heal himself, he cannot suppress his pain and so he is still vulnerable to inflicted attacks despite being able to heal from them. though he does seem to have a somewhat amplified pain tolerance.

the larger the injury, the longer it takes for kioh to heal himself. while a cut may only take a few moments, for a limb to reattach or re-grow it would take a considerably longer amount of time.

despite immunity against diseases, drugs or poisons can still have an effect ( such as pain ) and will not be broken down due to regeneration. however, if said drugs cause damage to his organs, the damage would then be repaired.

while the regeneration keeps him in optimal physical condition, it cannot halt or slow the aging process on his body as a whole.

the regeneration applies only to physical ailments, and not to mental conditions or diseases.

since the mutation took over and replaced his own immune system, if depowered for an extended period of time he is incredibly vulnerable to infectious diseases as he has no way of dealing with them.

regeneration increases his nutrition requirements, and as a result has an incredibly fast metabolism that he has to keep tabs on in order to attempt to maintain his weight.

the history !

triggers: bullying, violence/injury, pain as a coping mechanism

january, 5 —

when he sticks his hands into the snow, they burn. cold searing in past the skin and biting sharp like mice teeth. kioh hisses, curls his fingers, retracts his hands, then repeats the motion. he’s five and doesn’t entirely understand the concept of a coldness like this, or how it can ache like fire. he just thinks it’s pretty when the sun scatters across ice fragments — wants to dip his hands in and roll it into a ball. so he withstands that pain, digs teeth into his lower lip and ignores the wind curling up and under the hem of the ill-fitting jacket sliding down one shoulder. claws out his handfuls of snow.

he’s disappointed later, when it all melts into puddles that leave him bone-soaked and shivering. ignores that gut kick of an impulse to cry over it all while his mother scolds him in the kitchen for making a mess while she tries to scrub warmth back into his hands through the pilled fabric of an old kitchen towel.

it’s the first winter kioh ever remembers.

he doesn’t like the season much anymore.

may, 13 —

his parents fight like it’s their hobby, so kioh decides he likes it too. not in the way of fists and violence, but with his mouth. antagonism pools like acid under his tongue, and it’s around the time of middle school that kioh can’t help but spit it out.

it doesn’t match him well; too gangly with colt limbs and an inability to hold his ground. but he can’t help himself. he can’t just take it with his head tipped down until boredom replaces that sadistic glee of that underdeveloped empathy of middle schoolers.

there’s no bite past his bark, and his status in the classroom matches this revelation. it tuns him into something of a pariah, circling with his sharp-toothed intentions, his classmates drifting off and away. there’s no real blame there, for not wanting to associate. for not wanting to invite that treatment on themselves. for sticking next to the kid inviting in antagonism from boys twice his size.

he was never blameless.

but he was always lonely.

august, 15 —

his house feels hollow.

his parents coexist within the walls of their cramped apartment, but that seems too understanding a term.

it’s always cold, even trapped in the humid swells of summer. they hate interacting, kioh can read it in their posture. stiff at the shoulders and something chilling in their eyes. sometimes it’s tipped out onto him, spills out across the room and drowns out whatever intentions he’d once had of fixing it.

he thinks they regret. they regret each other, they regret their lives, they likely regret him too. sometimes it feels like they’re all acting out a make-believe role to another reality. one where they’re all fractured apart, strangers dropped into the same building.

he sneaks into the kitchen at half past two and eats the rest of the cereal hunched over the sink like it’s a sin. ignores his father and the way he knows he’s drinking soju by the bottle from the smell alone. main characters of their own droll plays, and kioh doesn’t want to disrupt the pointedly settled stagnation that’s grown over their lives.

he feels like if he breaks it, it’ll topple. a ripple effect and finally everyone will pin the blame on him.

so he drifts along like a ghost instead. sneaks out and pretends like his parents might care if they find his bed empty at four in the morning. if they find the liquor stashed in his closet.

it never comes up as an issue.

september, 16 —

there’s something comforting in the way a bruise blooms across his skin. unfurls in petals of black-blue-green; like an imprint of reality. scars are similar, moments left scattered across his body that he can’t forget. proof of existence. and he’s developed this sort of dependency on it, morphed violence into this sense of satisfaction.

the reaction’s better, kioh thinks, when he’s doubled over in pain with a laugh trapped up in a wheeze, tripping over empty lungs on the way out. there’s a sort of bewilderment found there, the way they might forget to grab at his backpack, dig through it to see if he has money or smokes they can take.

he likes that sharp pull of focus, and the endorphins that fizz their way up his spine and explode white and blinding in his head.

he doesn’t really talk about it to anyone. how he intentionally walks himself into situations that leave their marks across his body. doesn’t really talk about how he’s decided it makes him feel more settled, less lost.

and anyway, who does he have to talk about it with?

march, 17 —

and then his self-made reality fades away.

kioh half hates it, his quirk. his skin is too pretty now. entirely smoothed out. can press a bruise into his shin and watch it fade before it has time to form.

it feels like a loss of control at first.

and then he turns reckless with it. like the beating of wings against this proverbial cage, but it doesn’t matter if those bones snap anymore. they just revert. he learns this too as he pushes the limits farther and farther. the sharp, blinding pain of cracked bones before they knit their way whole again. half a day later and kioh’s fine.

a split lip, a gash, landing wrong on a pipe and walking home with a limp. it didn’t seem to matter, his body would just fix itself back up again. like proving a point, that kioh couldn’t even lord over himself. at the whim of something improbable.

was it really a surprise he never grew into a hero?

november, 20 —

at first he tries. his quirk isn’t obvious, and it’s easy to skate under the surface. presumed normal in near-every situation. his family doesn’t have a lot of money, nor the care needed to push kioh into a better sort of life than they had.

he tries to study, ends up at a part time job for a while. then he moves out and into a half-basement apartment for dirt cheap, peeling wallpaper and poorly-covered mold growing near the ceiling. not that he has to worry about his lungs.

he spends too much money on cigarettes and convenience mart food and somehow remains the same despite his penchant to overeat.

it’s when he fails out of his third semester and gets his hours cut that it all starts to tremble, the threat of reality over his good intentions.

and he starts to think.

it’s not like it would matter, really, if someone hurt him on the tail end of a robbery.

it’s not like his body wouldn’t fix itself. put everything back into the right place.

he could deal with the pain. he always had.

december, 24 —

kioh considers himself to be something of a freelancer. willing to walk himself into dangerous situations for a price, and he doesn’t really care what the reason is. money or information or something stolen.

sometimes it’s his own selfish interest. wants money, mostly. isn’t that what it boils down to in the end?

he can pretend like he’s an alright person. might not target someone who looks like they’re in a similar position to himself. but what’s it matter if he lifts an expensive watch off daytrader? pulls a wallet off a man dressed head to toe in a designer fit?

he’s got a decent knack of falling under the radar. as long as the police don’t pick him up, it doesn’t matter too much. the threat of violence poses little deterrent for him. like a cockroach, kioh is able to bounce back, slide himself in through the cracks, insistent and undying.

it’s probably in his own favor. he’d never lost that inclination to use his mouth.

july, 26 —

kioh tries not to make a name for himself.

technically, he’s terrible. the antithesis of a hero, and he doesn’t want to be one. seeks out enough money to make rent on an apartment that’s not a whole lot better than his first. keep his abilities as hushed as he can.

but it’s hard so many years in, despite his best efforts.

more annoying than anything, the boy who refuses to both die and shut up.

he becomes a threat when he starts to get nosy. stows too much information in his head that they can’t knock out of him.

but what’s kioh to do other than turn it into the next best enterprise? finding intel and selling it off to whoever promises to foot the bill.

dead men tell no tales, sure. but that hasn’t been applicable to kioh now for years.

all you have to do is pay him.

the personality !

scavenging for information he can put to good use. the problem with this containment is that it leaves him lonely. residually; something that has spanned and stretched out taffy-thick throughout his life. he’s not so sure he can recall what it feels like to welcomed, wanted, some word lodged in between. everything has been left hollowed out and drafty. and with that came a peculiar sort of coldness. a desire to freeze people out; scathing and biting and bruising in order to keep himself in his hollowed out space of nothingness.

he’s vindictive, and won’t leave things well enough alone. talks too much, and he says it’s because it doesn’t matter, because if someone hits him for it everything will settle back into place. leaving him looking unaffected enough, just an off-kilter smile and red-stained teeth. he seeks it out though, that pain. even if he doesn’t really admit it to himself. uses it like a tool - a way to cope, or some sort of self-punishment. like he’s proving to the world that he doesn’t like himself all that much, either.

so what if nobody else does too?

so what if it’s left him a villain?

at the core of it all, he’s tired. but he’s twisted up so caustic and near-cruel that it’s nearly impossible to wring the admission out of him.

self-defense mechanisms at their finest, and a desperation to keep all the pieces of himself in place.

[duelposting]

i have been obsessing over the headcanon that seto has bpd almost all day god i feel so blessed to have seen it I LOVE MY BOY

I apologize for taking my time responding to this. I wanted to convey my thoughts on the matter properly, so here we go.

Let’s start with the big one:

Identity: Markedly impoverished, poorly developed, or unstable self-image, often associated with excessive self-criticism; chronic feelings of emptiness; dissociative states under stress.

We all know who Kaiba is, right? Except… We don’t, really. We know he had a traumatic childhood. We know he is a rich CEO. We know of his accomplishments in Duel Monsters. It is almost impossible to divorce him of these aspects. We know that Tea likes dancing and Yugi likes puzzles. What are things Kaiba enjoys? At best we could say he likes dragons.

And you can’t say Duel Monsters. It is a painstaking labor for him. It keeps him up for hours doing research into the night. Not as a hobby, but through compulsion. Though there might be momentary satisfaction to gain from it, I’d be hard-pressed to say it’s for fun. During their second duel he even tells Joey “I don’t have fun.” He struggles with the concept as nothing is ever fulfilling.

You take Joey away from the card game and you still have a funloving, loud-mouthed, knucklehead …But what is Kaiba? He’s probably unsure of the answer himself.

“Dissociative states under stress”

He actually calls himself “nothing.” He is his own worst critic. He determines his worth by how well he can play Duel Monsters because that’s his thing.™ It’s my whole identity, my whole life is based around this so if I can’t be good at it then what’s the point.

“Suicidal threats, self-destructive or risk taking behaviors.”

This speaks for itself. Also, [spoilers] in DSOD Kaiba sacrifices himself so that Yugi may call forth the Pharaoh and then fades, for all we know, from existence forever without so much a goodbye, and consistently rushes headlong into danger for Mokuba. Almost as though he doesn’t care much for his own wellbeing or realizes he’ll be missed at all.

“Feeling fearful, apprehensive, or threatened by uncertainty; fears of falling apart or losing control.”

Do I even need to mention how many times the duel with Ishizu had him freeze up in abject horror? He was utterly shaken. Not only if he lost would he lose humiliatingly in his own tournament, but it’d be a grander reminder he has no control over his destiny after all and that absolutely terrifies him.

Empathy: Compromised ability to recognize the feelings and needs of others, or hypersensitivity.

Remember that time Joey literally died and two other people got sent to the infirmary which Kaiba casually disregarded for the sake of completing his tournament? But, Pegasus summons a toon Blue-Eyes and suddenly he’s highly upset like it burned all his crops, specifically, to slight him?

While that may not seem like a big deal to us, he actually says “you know how much I hate that thing!” In such a frustrated and hurt tone that it’s clearly very offsetting to him. He’s demonstrably apathetic yet pretty sensitive. Certain things seem to trigger explosive fits.

“Pattern of unstable and instense relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation.”

He’s always touting Yugi’s skills as a duelist and 100% sure Yugi can beat whoever he’s up against! Except for when he isn’t. Yugi’s losing? Disgraceful. Pathetic. I misjud– oh, Yugi’s winning? I knew it!! Yugi is the best!

This black and white thought process is often referred to as “splitting.” It can occur with anyone, (or anything) but in relation to an FP (favorite person); someone you’ve imprinted on and have a large attachment to, it’s the most drastic.

These can be people you’re so consumed with you don’t bother acknowledging anyone else which, Kaiba has a tendency of doing.

“Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger.”

Recall this outburst from season 4. He’s visibly distressed. And notice just how freaked out everyone is by this reaction. This isn’t usual Kaiba anger.™ He genuinely feels betrayed. He’s so disconsolate he doesn’t even give Yugi a chance to explain himself. If Yugi had unknowingly become his FP, this extreme reaction would make sense.

Hostility: Antagonism. Persistent or frequent angry feelings; irritability in response to minor slightly and insults.

I don’t even have to explain this one. [Insert any given interaction between him and Joey or the gang ever.]

“Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment.”

*GESTURES WILDLY AT THE ENTIRETY OF DSOD*

Anyway, I don’t really know how to wrap all this up but, it’s worth noting somewhere that people with BPD struggle with interpersonal relationships and making friends as they have issues with emotional permanence. Meaning, they’re constantly needing to “prove” a feeling, or person is really there. They have trouble believing anyone will stay or are really there for them and tend to isolate.

This could explain Kaiba’s standoffish attitude and why he constantly wants to challenge Yugi to prove he is the best. He may also be seeking validation from Yugi that he is a good duelist. Because there is only now to him. The present defines him. “If I’m not the best at this very moment,™ was I ever the best?”

People with BPD constantly feel that they have to earn the right to exist, and constantly wage battle with themselves to be their version of what’s useful or the “best” so they can feel they’ve made their steak. Kaiba’s narcissism is a defense mechanism. He seems to fluctuate between overzealous manic episodes, and crushing, despairing, depressive ones.

At his core, he is insecure and attempts to fill the void with winning tournaments, or building an amusement park– any project or interest to keep him busy. However, he tends to hyperfixate to the point of obsession. All of which are symptomatic of Borderline Personality Disorder.

Tl;dr: Kaiba’s character perfectly reflects and aligns with a plethora of diagnostic criteria listed for BPD in the DSM.

[statementends]

Pulled Apart

Characters: Sasha, Jon, Elias, featuring Tim and... NotMartin

Pairings: None, Gen

Warnings: Non-canonical Character death, The Web, The Stranger, Brutal Pipe Murder mentioned. 

Summary: Sasha has spiders in her head, but controlling and manipulating her coworkers doesn’t mean she can’t look after them. 

AO3: Link

-

Keeping Jon on task wasn’t easy. Finding Gertrude had shook him. Sasha couldn’t blame him. After all they’d gone through finding his predecessor was the last straw. Still, she had a job to do, and Jon antagonizing Tim wasn’t going to get it done.

“He’s being a paranoid prat.” Tim grumbled.

“Yeah, but you know how Jon is. He’s not the type ready for an emergency.”

Tim laughed, a bit tense, a bit high. “Yeah. Worms and monsters.”

Sasha smiled at him encouragingly. They were friends after all. Comforting Tim wasn’t so hard, and it worked into the greater web so there was no harm in keeping the peace. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Good luck,” Tim sounded doubtful. She patted his shoulder.

Tim wasn’t who Jon needed to be afraid of.

“I’m heading out,” Martin….

No… Not Martin. She had to remind herself sometimes. She could only just remember him. A large man with a round face and kind eyes. The web inside her trapped the thoughts that the stranger tried to tug out of reality. She was determined to remember Martin. No one else would.

The stranger was thin and pointed and left briskly. He didn’t stay late. He didn’t make tea. He had a confident air and was unconcerned about everything.

She went to Jon’s office. Jon was worse than he had ever been. He knew there was something wrong, but couldn’t name it or know it. The spiders whispered and explained to her why that was so difficult for him. Why it would make things easier for her in the long run.

Controlling her co-workers for a greater plot, well… maybe it was evil. Maybe she was a monster, but she could make things easier for them. Kinder.

“Jon?” She asked softly.

He fumbled with his tape recorder quickly clicking it off.

“Sorry, yes, I was just… finishing up. Did you need something, Sasha?”

“I need you to go home Jon,” She said. “You slept here last night.”

He jolted. “How do you know that?”

“You’re in the same clothes as yesterday.” She pointed calmly at his rumpled shirt.

“I--I was working late.”

“And you need to leave Tim alone.”

“Tim?”

“He’s not doing well after what happened.”

“He’s been angry…”

“He’s been hurting,” Sasha corrected. “And he doesn’t know how to deal with what happened.”

Jon looked caught out. “Well… I don’t have any answers for him.”

“Jon, you don’t need to have answers.”

He looked at her sharply. “That-- yes I do. Yes I do. That’s why--I need to know. I found something. A letter in the rubbish bin--”

“Jon,” Sasha interrupted. “How can I prove to you we won’t hurt you?”

“I--I don’t think that you’ll--”

“I know you think one of us murdered Gertrude. Jon, I’m not going to ask you to trust me. I know that’s hard for you right now, but let me help you.”

“What were you doing when she was murdered?” His voice went low and… there was something behind it. Like a thread tugging her towards the web. But it wasn’t spiders on his tongue.

“I haven’t the foggiest. But if it helps I’ll find out.”

Jon’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” He mumbled. “I just… I can’t.”

“Here, I brought you some tea. Drink that and then go home. You’re exhausted.”

Jon gazed at the cup frustration welling. A memory. Maybe he could almost remember Martin.

“It would be Martin,” He had said to her.

-

He held an axe in his hands standing in front of the table.

“Jon!” She yelled. He gave her a vicious look and tried to bring the axe down. With no other choice she reached out and caught his wrist in a string. Jon shook. He was terrified now.

“You’re one of them.” He said. “You’re a… a spider. Just like--”

“I’m not going to hurt you Jon,” Sasha said. “I’m trying to save you. If you break that table you’ll release what’s holding that thing back.”

“It--it took Martin!” Jon shouted. “And you knew. You hid it.”

“I didn’t want you putting yourself in danger, Jon. I’m not your enemy.”

“You’re a monster.”

She winced. Takes one to know one probably wouldn’t be the best strategy in this case.

“I heard the tapes. He… I don’t remember him. I don’t recognise him. He sounded...so lost and I hated him. Why would I hate him?”

There were angry tears in his eyes.

“I don’t think you did,” Sasha said softly.

“He lied on his CV.” Jon went on. “I went to see his mother, about some lie he had written her about. She hadn’t seen him since… since Prentiss. She laughed and asked if we finally found out he was scamming us. I--it always drove me crazy his Latin translations. He didn’t seem to know how to format things properly, but he had never known, he was just trying to get by with a sick mother and I disliked him because I thought he should know better--and I don’t even remember him. Just… just the impression on a few cassette tapes.” He was babbling now. His arms were still strung up by her web holding up the axe.

“How long?” he asked suddenly.

“How long?”

“How long have you been one of them?”

Sasha sighed. “Since Prentiss.”

“How many people did we lose that day?” His voice broke a little. “Is Tim--?”

“Tim’s human. Just… angry and a bit broken. Jon, if I let you go will you put the axe down?”

“Is it yours? Did you bring it here so that it would--”

“No,” She shook her head. “I didn’t… we didn’t bring it here, and if you break it then the thing pretending to be Martin will be free to kill us all. Right now it’s trapped, tethered.”

“How can I trust you?”

“I’m still me, Jon.”

“Have you used your powers on me before?”

“Not until now. Will you let go of the axe, Jon?”

He nodded.

She let the threads fall.

He slammed the axe down hard on the table.

-

“Damn it.” The person living in the tunnels had somehow cut her off. NotMartin was trapped, but she was separated from Jon. “Hey, help me out,” She called to the spiders that had claimed the tunnels as their own. The spiders skittered to her and then proceeded down the tunnel in droves. She followed them. Her senses were messed up in the tunnels. There was no controlling the buried in its own domain.

She finally found the trapdoor back to the archives and lifted herself out. She heard metal hitting flesh coming from Jon’s office and ran to it. She was sure NotMartin had been trapped but--

Elias stood over the ruined body of a man holding a pipe. He was covered in blood.

“Ah,” he breathed heavily. “Sasha. Good. We should chat.” He threw the pipe aside and moved past her. “Quickly now, Jon’s going to come back any moment.”

“You--” Elias… had…

“The Mother of Puppets and I have an understanding. If you don’t want to break that understanding follow me to my office, now.”

She felt her own webs tugging. The Mother’s guidance. Damn. Damn it!

She followed Elias into his office. He threw his bloodied coat to the side. “Well, that could have gone better.”

“What are you? I thought…”

“The Web is very good about moving the players on the board. The Eye is good at knowing who the players are.” Elias said. “I know you’re here to make sure things continue on schedule. I don’t have a problem with that, but it will be hard to convince Jon of your loyalties knowing what you are now. He has a thing about spiders.”

“What’s Jon going to think when he sees that body in his office?” Sasha asked coldly.

“He’ll run. He’ll know it was me and think I want to kill him.”

“Won’t the police suspect him?”

“I’m not worried,” Elias shrugged. “Jon needs to go learn some lessons. We can keep the police at bay for a little while I’m sure. I know you’re going to help me Sasha, so I won’t ask.”

“I’m going to help my friends,” Sasha corrected. She felt it. Hate curling in her stomache because he must know he had to know about everything that had happened. He could have protected them from Prentiss properly. He could have saved Martin. He could have saved her. He had just watched.

“Control is the Web’s expertise. Not mine.” He plucked the thought from her head. “If the Distortion doesn’t keep him, Tim will be back soon. He’ll probably need some help.”

“That’s it?”

“Now we both know where we stand with one another. I think that’s enough for one evening. I need to--”

“Destroy evidence?”

“You’d be helpful in that, but I won’t ask you to do it.”

“Good.”

Sasha turned and walked out of the office. She went back downstairs to the archives just in time for Tim to burst through a door that had never been in the archives before. He panted looking behind him, terrified.

“No, no, Helen!?” He called out.

“Tim?”

“Sasha! Sasha we need to get out of here now, that--that Michael. It--oh… oh god.” He looked in through the open door of Jon’s office, seeing the corpse.

“He--I didn’t think… I thought he was getting better.” He stumbled over his words.

She hated getting tangled in someone else’s web. Elias had been setting things up for a long time though. She took Tim upstairs to the breakroom and called the police.

She was going to have a hard time convincing Jon to trust her. Right now she just needed to keep everyone left together.

“I’ll make you some tea,” She offered.