#not to any satisfactory level anyway

[undertalethingems]

I'm sorry i always leave these announcements until the last minute, but i often maintain a foolish hope i'll somehow be able to get a comic update done despite being really busy the weeks before, haha...

needless to say assorted holidays and visiting family got in the way of drawing the comic, and considering the current pages involve drawing a blaster, i'm gonna need a little more time to get the update ready.

So, have patience and look for it next week, Jan. 18th, instead!

[n4kedeyes]

yeah man could i just get a uhhh gender

[pomefioredove]

Hello! I hope you feel better soon :) remember to drink lots of water!!

Could I request a one-shot with Idia, where reader brings him a meal they cooked themselves since he hasn't had much to eat in the past few days? (Sorry if this is too vague I've just been having thoughts of taking care of Idia)

no this is perfect! <3 actually just what I needed to write rn

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ you have that effect on him

type of post: fic characters: idia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, food, mentions of eating and not eating, depression👍, actually cute, reader is not there much sorry,,,

One breath in. One breath out.

Idia has been counting the snicks and scorches on the ceiling all weekend.

They're mostly his. Haywire robots and Ortho mishaps, which he always takes the blame for. One dark smudge is from his shoe, when there was a bug on the ceiling and his brother was out of the room.

Each like a star in his own sky, memories of the days he could get out of bed.

This is not one of them.

Nor was yesterday. Or the day before that.

Just one of those weeks.

One breath in, one breath out. Idia feels painfully aware of the rise and fall of his chest.

He'd sent Ortho on some pointless sidequest for the day. He needed to be alone- well, not really. He just didn't want his brother to worry about him.

He gives up sleep, and lies on his side instead, opening his phone to doomscroll again. The harsh blue light makes his eyes water in the dark of his room.

It feels like he's been locked in an unskippable cutscene all week.

What would you think of him if you could see him now?

He doesn't want to picture it. Idia feels pathetic enough as a cringey, awkward, social reject, even if you like him that way.

There's no going up. When he hits rock bottom, he starts digging.

Knock.

Idia cringes at the sound. He was hoping to be asleep before Ortho came back.

Knock, knock.

"Come in,"

But he doesn't. Idia finally looks up, at the door. Ortho will give the compulsory three knocks, then wait for a verbal command, and then come in. He was programmed that way. He usually talks, too.

But, nothing.

Not Ortho, then.

Idia cozies himself back up in bed, dressing himself in blankets as if they were... well, a shroud.

Another hour goes by. At nine PM sharp, Ortho's melodious knocks, his happy chiming, and the light from the hall follow.

"Find that thing?" Idia asks. He can't even remember what he asked Ortho to get.

"Yep! And guess what! You have a present!"

Psh. Wut? Idia looks up from his phone.

Ortho hovers to the edge of the bed and hands Idia something lukewarm, in a covered glass dish.

"Whatsit?"

His brother giggles. "Can't you guess? You don't even need a scanner for it!"

Idia can't help but crack a smile at that, and he slowly sits up. He peels off the lid of the dish. It's soup.

"Did you make this?" he asks, inspecting the lukewarm dish.

Ortho gives a negative chime. "It was by your door when I returned. Would you like me to heat it up for you?"

"Uh..." Idia hums. "...Yeah. That'd be good."

Within a few minutes, it's back in his lap, hot again. Idia cautiously takes a bite. It's rich, filling, and good, clearly homemade. Not some cheap junk out of a can. One spoonful is more filling than any of the garbage he'd eaten in the past week.

"Your hormonal levels and body language indicate that it's satisfactory. Do you know who left it?" Ortho asks.

Idia shrugs. "Someone came by earlier, but I didn't get the door. Who'd leave me a home cooked meal, anyway?"

He eats some more. It's hard not to enjoy himself, if only a little.

"Well..." Ortho says. "...I may have mentioned to the Prefect that you've been unwell."

Idia almost does a spit-take. "WHAT?! WHA- WH?! This is- th-"

"Calm, Idy! I just said you weren't feeling well! They must have thought you were sick!"

He almost collapses on his bed. His hands are shaking. How humiliating. And he already looked lame enough as it was.

One breath in, one breath out.

"They came all the way out here..." he mutters, stirring the soup around the dish.

"They must really care about you, Idy!"

Idia's face goes bright red. "Don't say it like that..." he mumbles.

But he'd be lying if he wasn't secretly hoping that was true. The thought of you having made something like this just because he felt bad... well... it's a nice one.

You care.

Idia makes a mental note to send you a DM later. As thanks. And to ask if you have any soup left. It's pretty good...

Maybe the promise of you coming over will motivate him to get out of bed.

You have that effect on him.

[bonesxbows]

Infection (Arthur Nightingale X Reader)

My Masterlist

You can't get sick...right? You're a child of the void, immune to simple bacterial viruses. But yet when you pull into the Mall's garage one day, head throbbing and body aching, you can't help but wonder if that's actually true. To make matters even worse you've been so busy running errands and missions for the Hex that you haven't been keeping an eye on the calendar; it's closer to the end of the time loop than you thought. Arthur's the first to remind you, and the first to notice your change in health.

(WARNINGS) - Graphic Descriptions of Flu like symptoms - Female Drifter (she/her pronouns used)

Guess who got sick right before new years eve and wrote this as a way to make themselves feel better because they're missing out on all the fun parties

I'm still getting a grasp on Arthur's character and I also wrote this while extremely sick so sorry for any mistakes/out-of-character moments

Banners by @strangergraphics

The mission had gone as usual, no kinks or hiccups, smooth sailing as you and your squad mowed down techrot hoard after hoard, the smell of burnt acid and chitin-filled technological carapaces burying the under levels of the old mall. But at some point, your trigger finger began to lag, your steps became staggered and you could feel phantom sweat coat your forehead from within the safety of your warframe. You were falling behind. They wouldn’t leave you, but they wouldn't wait for you either. So you forced your feet to keep moving, willing the energy to keep flowing through your warframe to fend off the techrot surrounding you. By the time you made it back to the garage, you wanted to collapse.

You left your frame next to your atomicycle, not having the energy to pilot the suit even another step. The bundle of supplies you had brought back for the Hex felt like a bag of concrete on your shoulder, threatening to topple you over as your knees screamed in protest, your muscles aching right down to your bones. You were so ready to just trudge up to the backroom and fall into the nearest couch you could find. Luckily, by some small grace, help had arrived. You heard the sliding doors that separated the garage from the rest of the mall glide open, metallic footsteps clicking against the tile floor.

“You’re not usually gone this long. Everything go alright?” You heard him ask, his accent coating over the forming headache in the back of your mind like warm drizzled honey.

You sighed. You didn’t want to snap at him, but you were in so. Much. Pain. Standing on your feet physically hurt. “Everything went fine, Arthur. Can you take these and distribute them, please? I need to...lie down. For a moment.” You kept your voice sweet and plastered a soft smile on your face as you handed the bag of supplies in his direction. He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he studied you. He knew you; ever since you had first arrived you never stopped, never slowed down, always bouncing to the next mission or next bounty, so why now, of all times, were you stopping to take a rest? There was something off, but it was so hard to tell with you. You weren’t built like him, or like he used to be anyway, you weren’t exactly human. He couldn’t read you like he could other people.

“Are you…feeling alright, love?” He took the bag from you, lessening the weight on your body, and immediately you sighed in relief. Your eyes flickered to the door, eager to book it towards the backroom now that you were free from your last responsibility and could finally crash, but Arthur stood in your way, and it was clear he had no intention of moving until you answered his question.

“I’m fine, really. I’m immune to everything, remember? Child of the void and all that. I’m just tired. After some sleep I’ll be right back to normal, promise. You worry too much.” You spoke quickly and then kissed him on the cheek, getting a satisfactory answer out as fast as possible and leaving him no room to argue as you dashed off towards the door. Hopefully, he wouldn’t chase you down so you could actually take that nap you so desperately wanted.

You made it to the backroom in record time, flopping face-first onto the nearest soft surface you could find and passing out as soon as your head made contact.

It wasn’t long though before you woke up retching, a wet cough rattling your chest and scratching your throat on the way out. You groaned, sitting up and leaning back against the back of the couch. You blinked against the lights above you, pulling the blanket that covered your arms up over your head…which definitely hadn’t been there when you had fallen asleep. You poked an eye out, looking around the room, but no one else was there with you. Well, no other people. Your eyes landed on your kubrow who had snuggled up next to the foot of the couch nearest you, curled into a ball, a note laid next to their feet. You reached down to pick it up, scritching their fur as a reward for safeguarding the note for you when you did so. They sighed contently in response.

The white of the paper was blinding to your straining eyes, your headache having only increased from earlier, and his fancy scrawled handwriting didn’t help -you figured it had to be a Britannic thing, Eleanor wrote the same way-, but you managed to decode the note.

You looked cold. Text me when you wake up, team’s taken off the rest of today. I’m all yours. -A

You couldn’t help but smile underneath your little blanket cocoon. It took an extraordinary amount of effort but you stood up, your knees wobbled and your back ached but you willed yourself to stay upright, stumbling your way over to your POM-2 PC. You pushed the on button, the screen flickering to life, making you outwardly hiss as the blue light assaulted your eyes and shot to the very back of your skull like a laser. But you pushed forward, ignoring the pain, and clicked on Arthur’s chatbox.

Hey, A <3

Broadsword is typing…

You’re awake. I take it you got my note then?

I did. Something special going on I don’t know about? You never let the team take days off. 

Broadsword is typing…

Check your calendar, love. 

Broadsword has gone offline.

You squinted in confusion, a small flash of panic grabbing hold of your heart. Had you forgotten something important? You clicked off of the chat page and onto the built-in calendar with the PC, the boxes flashing onto the screen. They were all greyed out, you had reached the end of another month, nothing special there. But then you saw it. December on the top of the screen. December 31st. Today was the end of the time loop. New Year’s Eve.

Metallic footsteps sounded off of the wooden floorboards behind you. You were still facing the PC, dumbstruck by your discovery, nothing but a mass of blanket from his point of view. He came up behind you and snaked his hands around your waist, slotting his head into the crook of your neck, though he was met with a mess of fluffy blanket instead of your warm skin. His eyes flicked between your face and the PC’s screen still brought up on the greyed-out calendar. “Figure out what today is, then?” He whispered.

You leaned back into Arthur’s chest, the heat radiating off of his warframe a welcoming comfort through your blanket.“I didn’t realize.” You spoke, answering his question, but yet you didn’t recognize your own voice. Your eyes widened at the unexpected sound, a hoarse croaking noise as the words scratched out of your throat. Arthur pulled his head away from your shoulder and spun you around as soon as he heard it too, forcing you to face him, his hands now on your shoulders and a concerned look on his face as his brow furrowed. A chill ran over your body at the abrupt removal of his warmth from your back, causing you to shiver, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur. He was looking over you, studying you. You pulled the blanket closer around you, becoming sheepish under his gaze. He took in everything he hadn’t noticed before in addition to your recent shiver and scratchy voice; the way your eyes seemed to sink into your face surrounded by dark circles, the unusual dullness in your complexion, and the way both your shoulders and your spine seemed to slump towards the floor as if the weight of a million bricks rested upon you.

A small smirk crawled over his face, his assumptions from earlier now being undeniably confirmed. “So, ‘child of the void that’s immune to everything’ huh?”

You sniffled, sticking your nose into the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice scratched out like a destroyed record, the words catching in your throat and making you hack and cough, breaking whatever semblance of composure you were trying to feign. You brought your elbow up to your face to catch the cough, the fuzzy blanket encompassing everything as you moved. Arthur carefully dug his fingers into the muscles of your shoulders and neck as you coughed and retched up the fluid in your lungs, the gentle pressure a soothing distraction from the pain coating your throat with every new breath you took. Eventually, you stopped, now looking exhausted from the effort, and you couldn’t help but collapse against his chest, your head finding the crook of his neck. Your breathing became ragged against the metal platings and exo-flesh of his neck, though he couldn’t feel it the sound of it alone made concern worm its way to his heart. He didn’t think about it often, he didn’t want to unless he had to, honestly; but moments like this were blatant reminders of just how fragile you were compared to him. He sighed and curled his arms around you, holding you against him and running his hands up and down your back comfortingly. “Hm. Sounds to me like you’re sick, if I had to guess.”

“Ugh.” Was all you could muster for a response, the sound reverberated through your chest instead of your already painful throat. He reached down and hooked his hands under your thighs, pulling you up and bundling you into his arms so he could carry you. You made no protest to his actions, immediately wrapping your legs and arms around his torso, albeit weakly. He carried you back over to the couch, settling down with you in his lap, the blanket not forgotten about and cocooned around your shoulders. You huddled into the warmth radiating off of his mechanical body as another shiver crawled over your spine, causing you to shake. He let his hands roam your back absentmindedly, working his fingers against your muscles gently and every so often letting one of them wander upwards towards your hair, carding his fingers through the strands soothingly.

Though the quiet moment didn’t last for long as his ears twitched, picking up the sound of footsteps coming up the metal staircase that separated your living space from your workshop. He instinctively tensed, his eyes whipping to the doorway as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, ready to protect you at a second's notice. The mall was a safe zone, he knew that in the back of his mind, but he always prepared for the worst. The need to protect you, especially now given how weak you were in your current state, greatly outweighed any rationality to his thoughts. You were oblivious to everything happening, your eyes long since being closed ever since he had sat down with you.

“You two are adorable.” He heard in his head, his guard dropping as he saw both his sister and Aoi poke around the corner. She had been listening when his instincts had kicked in.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you two knock?”

“Don’t you two answer your comms?” He heard in his head again, a teasing smile on Eleanor’s face.

“Didn’t hear them go off. Sorry.” He explained.

“You, not paying attention to your comms? What’s got you so sidetracked?” Aoi retorted, though her face showed she was teasing as well. Eleanor, however, had already found the answer to Aoi’s question. Her face fell when she saw you clinging onto Arthur’s chest, your breathing harsh and unnatural and your hair plastered to your forehead by sweat. She knelt down in front of him, studying you for signs of something she had long since forgotten even existed.

“Is she sick?” She asked him telepathically.

Aoi had also heard the question, catching up on the details laid out before her. She sat down on the other side of the couch, her brow furrowing and a small frown adorning her lips. “Can she even get sick?”

“Apparently,” Eleanor answered in their minds, half sarcastically. “Is there anything we can do?”

“What could we do? We don’t have a cure, she’s in no condition to go back to her time and retrieve one, that’s even if they’ve discovered one.” He ran through options in his head, none of them seeming feasible.

“So…what? We just let it run its course? She seems…miserable.” Aoi’s voice was laced with sympathy. You had done so much for them, it felt awful not being able to help you in return.

“I don’t think we have any other choice, unfortunately.” They could hear the pang of guilt in Eleanor’s words as they echoed in their heads, her lips parting in a regretful sigh as she stood up.

“What did you two stop by here for, anyway?” He asked, his eyes flicking to you as you shifted in his arms, but you were still fast asleep.

“We were going to gather in the commons to celebrate the countdown, you know, since we avoided annihilation and all that this year, we figured why not, and we were going to ask if you and Drifter wanted to join us, but…” Aoi explained, her voice trailing off towards the end as her eyes landed on the bundle of blanket that was you in Arthur’s lap.

“I doubt she’d feel up to a party and I’d rather not leave her here alone, so if it’s all the same to you lot I think I’ll stay here with her for the night.” Both women gave him looks of understanding to his reply, but as soon as Arthur had answered your eyes fluttered open and your head shot up, instantly causing you to go dizzy from your sudden movement and you had to place a hand against his chest to stabilize yourself. But that didn’t stop you.

“No, Arthur, you should go.” You looked at him, your words croaking out just the same as they had before, startling the two women who hadn’t heard the severity of your sickness yet.

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself.” He retorted, brown and white eyes burrowing into yours. He knew it was selfish to argue with you when you were less than healthy, you stood no chance at winning, but he didn’t care. Not when it came to looking after you.

Eleanor and Aoi took that as their cue to leave before the conversation got any more heated. “If you do decide to join us, you know where you can find us,” Aoi told the two of you before standing up and making way for the door.

“Take care of her,” Eleanor told her brother inside of his head, a message only he could hear, as she followed Aoi out.

You waited until you heard the familiar click of the backroom door shutting before trying to bicker with the man in front of you. “You deserve to celebrate.” You told him, fighting against the hoarseness in your throat to get your point across.

“And you don’t? We'd still be dead on the floor of that reactor room if you hadn’t intervened. I won’t leave you here to celebrate alone if I have a say about it.” He brushed the sweat-stricken hair off of your forehead as he spoke.

You huffed, the noise sounding more like a wheeze. “You’re stubborn, Nightingale.” You wanted to cross your arms, to pout, to argue back and force him to spend time with his friends instead of wasting his night away in a stuffy old room. But you barely had enough energy to keep your head up as it was.

He couldn’t help but laugh, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “So I’ve been told.”

You didn’t remember falling back asleep, or even when you had laid your head back down onto Arthur’s shoulder, but the next thing you knew he was gently squeezing your hand, trying to wake you. You stirred for a moment, your eyelids fluttering as you came back to reality. “Wake up, love.” You heard him whisper into your ear. But it was then that all of the pain came flooding back, hitting you all at once. You groaned, feeling the stiffness in your bones and the aches throbbing in your muscles. Though you were grateful that your headache had at least subsided, you discovered that your throat still felt like sandpaper every time you swallowed, causing you to wince from the pain. You slowly raised your head up, coming face to face with Arthur. He had a small smile stuck on his face and you were caught off guard when he tilted his head and kissed you, his lips gentle against yours, as if too much pressure would shatter you like glass. You quickly leaned into it though, weakly wrapping an arm around his neck and inwardly smiling as you felt his hair tickle your cheekbones. He pulled away far too soon for your liking. “Happy New Year, love.”

You blinked in confusion for a moment before turning your head towards your POM-2; sure enough, the usual black screen was now flashing big green numbers, “00:00”. The loop had been completed. Soon it would all start again. Whether or not Arthur would still be there with you come morning was now a decision left in your hands.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-BANG CHAN

A loose retelling of Hades and Persephone-modernized and darker than before, but beautiful all the same.

A/N: I'm not happy with this. But you guys can have it anyway.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, Bang Chan, Chan, Christopher, Christopher Bang, Y/N, Femreader, Chan as Hades, Y/N as Persephone, Underworld, Greek Mythology, Hades and Persephone, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Chan x you, Chan x reader, Chan x y/n, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Other members make guest appearances as various Greek gods, Greek Gods

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Warnings: Underworld Shit, Dark Undertones, Underhanded God and Mortal shit and dealings, Death, Dying, Triggering Themes, Toxic Relationships (not main characters), Chan's fucking in love with reader to the point of obsession.

Playlist:

🌸I’ll Be Damned-Gavn

🌸Seven Nation Army-Stevie Howie

🌸Call Me-ShineDown

����Granite-Sleep Token

🌸Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version)-Taylor Swift

Title: Every Last Seed

He goes by many names.

He always has.

Hades.

Ploutos.

King of the Underworld.

God of the Dead.

Bringer of Death.

Lord of Darkness.

But by far, his favorite name is the one that only you are allowed, dripping from your lips, soft and sweet, like honey, like a deadly nectar he's become addicted to-

Mine.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Where the fuck is he?" Chan storms through the door to his office, terrifying the wraith he employs as his secretary, her throat jumping with a gulp, as she straightens her glasses, and clasps her clipboard to her opaque chest.

"Ah, sir, I was just asking his Lordship if he'd prefer tea or coffee-"

"No need." Chan growls, not even bothering to look in her direction. "He won't be staying."

Hyunjin grins from his position behind Chan's overly large desk, his feet planted directly in the middle of some important treaties Chan had been working on the day before for some particularly pesky mortals.

"Ah, is that any way to treat your baby brother, Channie?"

His given name. The only ones who dare call him by that name are his brothers and you.

Everyone else just refers to him by the name the mortals gifted him when he became God of the Dead eons ago-Hades.

Chan stalks toward his brother's reclined form and promptly shoves his feet off the desk with a little bit more force than necessary.

"The perfect way, actually. Especially when said brother is impeaching on my very valuable and limited time, uninvited, I might add."

Hyunjin sniffs, straightening the highly expensive baby blue suit he wears, and plants his feet firmly on the ground, swiveling in Chan's chair to face him.

He tucks a strand of his golden hair back behind his ear and levels Chan with a self important look that makes him grind his teeth in agitation.

"Fine. You obviously want me to get straight to the point, so I will."

Chan feels a muscle tick in his jaw as he taps his foot impatiently, motioning with his hand for the man before him to continue.

"Great. What is it?"

Hyunjin sighs, making a show of straightening the crown on his brow, and then he gives Chan a grimace which he tries to soften with a halfhearted smile that Chan sees through immediately.

It makes his clench his fingers into fists at his side.

"How's the new little wife, hm, big brother? Satisfactory, I presume?"

Chan feels himself prickle at the mention of you, but he keeps his expression unreadable, dark, as he stares back at his clearly prodding brother.

"Fine. Anything else? Or did you travel all the way here and risk your wife's wrath just to ask me how my honeymoon was?"

Hyunjin blanches at the mention of Hera, and clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable now in the face of Chan's obvious ire.

"Yes, well-" He stands up, planting his hands flat on Chan's desk and leaning toward him, as if to appear intimidating.

Chan wants to laugh at the pathetic display.

"-there's been a problem. I'm sure you've noticed the influx of extra souls ever since you uh, tied the knot, without her mother's permission?"

He fidgets nervously under Chan's unwavering, blank stare.

Tugging at the collar of his expensive suit once more, Chan watches as his younger brother, the supposed God of the Gods, seems to wilt under his penetrating gaze.

Finally, he sighs heavily, and seems to implore Chan to give him something, anything, he can work with.

"Her mother's fucking pissed with you, Channie, all right? I'll just come out and say it. I need you to fix this."

Chan remains unmoving, stoic, in the face of his brother's obvious plea.

After another moment of silence, Hyunjin throws his hands outward and exclaims with obvious exasperation, "C'mon, help me out here. Lord knows I've helped you in the past when you asked."

Chan arches a brow. "Helped me?"

His voice is flat, cold, deadly, and Hyunjin winces subtly.

"Okay, listen-" He holds up his hands, as if the weak gesture of peace will stop Chan's building fury. "-you know the delicate balance we have between the mortals. We worked decades for that, and if Demeter keeps fucking offing them left and right, just to spite and overwork you, and the Underworld, we're gonna have a much bigger fucking problem on our hands than a petty little feud between you and your recently acquired mother in law."

Chan hates to admit it, but Hyunjin's right, as much as it pains him to agree.

Fucking Demeter and the chip on her shoulder toward him.

God forbid, her perfect, innocent, naive daughter-the goddess of Spring-fall in love with someone as twisted and dark and wicked as Chan-god of the dead and ruler of the Underworld.

No, the Goddess of Harvest was not bound to let this go lightly, and it seemed he needed to put a stop to this before it ever really began.

A few extra mortal souls on his workload was nothing really, but if she even thought about dissuading you-

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut. He can feel a headache building.

"Fine." He grits out, and he can practically hear Hyunjin breathe a sigh of relief. "I'll handle it."

Ignoring his brother and his babbled platitudes of thanks, he steps toward the window and looks down over the city below, flickering to life beneath the coming darkness.

"But know this-" He turns and levels Hyunjin with a dangerous, black gaze. "-if I even hear a whisper of you and Demeter's little foolish escapades putting my wife in danger, I will end you both without a second thought and with one snap of my fingers."

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

He still remembered the first time he ever laid eyes on you. How could he forget?

Attending one of his younger brothers garish and old fashioned parties-he'd thought they'd stopped doing these kinds of things centuries ago-he'd been dragged over to rub shoulders with some of the greats, one stiff tuxedo away from going the fuck home where he belonged.

And then, he'd seen you, hidden in Demeter's shadow- though nothing could truly hide your exquisite and rare beauty, not even your mother's sour, pinched expression-and his feet had moved toward you without permission, as if drawn by an invisible thread of fate.

Your mother had looked at him as he approached with such disdain it would've set him on fire had he not been a god, but he'd ignored her, striding boldly forward through the party goers until he stood directly in front of you.

"Hades." Demeter had hissed in greeting, dark hatred flashing in her eyes as she'd put a protective arm out in front of you.

You stared up at him with the biggest, most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, and extended one slender, soft hand out toward him, breaching the threshold of your mother's protection without a second thought, as if you could feel the tug of the persistent string too.

"Persephone." You had whispered, than blushed, your cheeks going red, as his fingers found yours. "Or Kore. O-or (Y/N). Whatever is to your liking, your highness."

Your hand was like velvet-warm and silky in his own-and his fingers dwarfed yours, making them feel delicate and almost fragile in his grip.

"I know who you are, Goddess of Spring." He had replied, with far more confidence in his low tone than his quivering gut felt in the moment.

Your expression had flashed surprise at his words, and you glanced away under his direct gaze, red, full lips parted, cheeks taking on an even deeper hue of scarlet.

The look of sudden shy demureness on your features intoxicated him, and his dick immediately took notice.

"I am honored that one such as yourself, your highness, has taken notice of me already."

He had cleared his throat, subtly adjusting himself in his too expensive slacks-some high end shit Hyunjin had insisted he wear-at the soft tone of pleasure your voice took on at his attention, and finally, reluctantly released your hand, even as Demeter ushered you back behind her looming form.

"We really must be going." Her expression went from pinched to furious as his eyes lingered on you just a bit longer than necessary. She ushered you away. "Say goodbye, Kore."

"Goodbye." You had murmured, eyes flitting up to his briefly, before you let your mother lead you away and out of his sight.

Chan took his leave shortly after, giving Hyunjin some bullshit excuse of the Underworld not running itself, and had hightailed it home, his skin itching beneath the ridiculous suit he wore, and his hard-on aching for a release.

That night, he came with his cock in hand, and your name on his lips.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

He arrives home to find you in the garden, kneeling in the dirt, fingers dug deep into the soil.

It's a common occurrence, a sight he's grown used to, but he still pauses, watching you silently for a few moments, enjoying the way your hair falls around your face, the way the curves of your body are accentuated against the early evening light.

Cerberus notices him first, raising his giant, blocky head from his paws where he lays beside you next to the garden plot, ears erect. His thick tail thumps the ground-once, twice-at the sight of Chan and you glance up, following the dog's gaze.

Chan steps from the shadows, and the most gorgeous smile he's ever seen graces your features as soon as you catch sight of him.

It takes his breath away, and as you stand, brushing the dirt from the dress you wear, he thinks, not for the first time, that you're the most fucking beautiful thing he's ever had the pleasure of calling his own.

"Channie." You breathe sweetly, throwing your arms around his neck as he draws closer, burying your face in the juncture of his throat. "You're home."

"I am." He agrees, wrapping you tightly in his embrace, taking a moment to let his nose skim your hair, the smell of blossoms and springtime filling his senses.

You pull back, just enough to gaze up at him, and he lets his finger go beneath your chin, holding you there, so he can study and memorize, once again, every single intoxicating line of your features.

Your lips quirk into the start of a smile, as if you know what he's doing, but you don't say anything.

He's grateful for that.

"Did you have a good day?" You ask softly, your breath warm on his fingers, as he traces the part of your full, soft lips.

"Eh." He lifts one shoulder into a shrug and lets it fall back down heavily. "Not as good a day as I would've had staying here with you, little blossom."

You arch a brow, and he sees it, the stubborn expression wash across your face that lets him know you know he's trying to deflect.

You put your hands on your hips and stare him down, and he resists the urge to lean forward and kiss the tip of your nose.

Fuck, you're adorable.

"I heard Zeus came to see you."

"Is that so?" He questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he watches you hold your ground.

He leans forward, fingering one of the loose strands of hair that frames your face, before he lets his gaze dip to your throat, the golden chain you always wear dipping tantalizingly out of his line of sight where it disappears between the swell of your breasts.

"You're correct." He acquiesces, his fingers itching now to reach up and tug the chain free, so he can dangle the wedding ring he knows lies safely between your breasts between the two of you, just so he can remind himself who you belong to once more.

His dick swells at the thought.

He clears his throat, and brings his gaze reluctantly up to meet yours once more, noting the dark flash of stubbornness that washes across your eyes.

"However." He smirks now, stepping closer, letting his hand gently close around your throat, your pulse thready beneath his palm, like a fluttering bird beating against the bars of a cage. "I don't really want to talk about my brother right now, do you?"

He leans forward, and begins to suck kisses along the column of your throat, and you giggle, batting him away and stepping back before he can distract you further.

"Channie." You whine, putting your hands once again on the swell of your hips, and he thinks, not for the first time, that your delicious curves are going to be the death of him one day. "I'm serious."

He sighs, and tries to ignore the hardness of his eager dick between his thighs, knowing you're not going to let him off the hook-or let him fuck you dumb-until he's told you what Hyunjin wanted.

"Fine." He sighs again, and drops onto one of the many benches he had had installed in the garden solely for the purpose of watching you do what you love most.

You step toward him, and he opens his legs so you can slide between them, putting your hands on his shoulders as his fingers find your hips through the thin material of your dress.

"Tell me." You insist, staring down at him and Chan tilts his head back to look at you, arching a brow at your commanding tone.

"Goddess of Spring, are you really telling the Lord of the Underworld what to do?"

An amused smirk flickers across his lips at the look of exasperation that crosses your features.

You stick your tongue out at him, and he chuckles, tugging you to him. You protest a little, but let him do it anyway, burying his face into your stomach, the soft feel of your dress caressing his skin.

He breathes in your perfume, once, twice, and then leans back, meeting your gaze.

"Your mother is throwing a little temper tantrum it seems."

Your eyes widen minutely, and Chan sees your lips flatten into a determined, serious line.

"Because of our marriage?"

Chan gives a slight nod. "It would seem so."

One of your hands clenches into a tight, white knuckled fist at your side, and your chest stutters with a sharp intake of breath.

Beyond your shoulder, a vine springs to life, fraught with large thorns, curling around a nearby tree, up and up, tight enough to strangle the bark beneath its hold.

Cerberus raises his head, scenting the sudden unease in the air, and lets out a small whine.

You take in a deep breath, and the vine begins to slowly retract its hold on the tree.

"Little blossom." Chan murmurs, tugging you down onto his lap, and encircling you in the safety of his arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "It's nothing to worry about, I promise you. I'll handle it."

He feels you shake your head beneath his chin.

"You shouldn't have to handle it. She's my mother. I need to stand up to her."

Chan glances beyond you as Cerberus whines again, and sees the vine's thorns growing dangerously long with your distress, piercing through the trunk of the tree, cracking the bark into splinters.

"Pet." Chan warns quietly, nudging your chin in the direction of the destruction. "Take a deep breath."

You gasp, and let the air out on a long, shuddering breath, and the vine halts its upward progress almost instantly as you collapse against Chan, slumping into his chest.

He can hear the tears in your voice when you whisper, "I'm sorry."

His finger finds your chin again, and he raises your watery gaze to his own.

"Never, and I mean never, apologize for the power you hold, my love. For it will bring gods and mortals alike to their knees, and one day, when they all pass beyond this life, you will be known as their queen."

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"You know, it's usually easier to get into the palace through the front door."

The unfamiliar, male voice startled you and you lost your hold on the branch you were currently coaxing toward the palace wall, snatching it up again with a curse just in time to stop yourself from tumbling all the way back to the ground below.

"Fuck." You glared over your shoulder, down to the newcomer, but could only make out a tall, dark silhouette, cloaked in a hood.

The man tilted his head, as if he was looking up at you, and you swore you could feel his smirk even through the darkness.

"Yes, thank you for the advice." You snapped back with a huff, already reaching out for the next branch as your magic grew it down toward your outstretched fingers. "But I think I'll stick with this."

"Suit yourself, little blossom." The mystery man leaned against the thick trunk of the tree, and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out at gods knows what.

You paused, catching your breath, and glared down at him, even though you're sure he can't see you.

"Don't call me that."

You saw his chest rise and fall in a silent laugh. "Why?"

"Because." You huffed, reaching for another branch, out of breath as you work around the gods awful gown your mother had insisted you wear to visit Olympus. "I don't know you."

"Oh, but I think you do."

You paused to consider his words, racking your brain for anyone you knew in Olympus well enough to give you a nickname, and came up with no one. Your mother didn't let you visit often from the mortal realm.

"I don't." You insisted, standing up on your tiptoes to try and reach the top ledge of the wall.

You heard the man chuckle again as you stretched-up, up, up-and just as your fingers had grazed the cool marble, your foot slipped off its hold on the branch below, and you tumbled, shrieking, back down through the tree and toward the hard ground.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the impact, but it never came.

Cracking open one eye, you stared straight into the face of the mystery man, safe in the warm, strong curve of his arms.

His hood had fallen back in the act of catching you, and your eyes widened as you recognized the handsome face before you.

Fucking. Hades.

Brother of Zeus.

God of the Dead.

He grinned at you, and arched a brow, reiterating softly, "But you do."

Your heart did one sharp staccato against your ribcage, as he set you carefully to your feet, and stepped back, and almost instantly, you missed the warmth of his skin against your own.

"Thank you for saving me." You stuttered out, curtsying deeply, now that you had your wits about you.

He chuckled, staring at you as you straightened back up, and you hoped it was dark enough to hide the blush staining your cheeks.

"Oh, I have no worries that if I wasn't here, little blossom, you would have saved yourself."

He motioned upward with a jut of his chin, and you followed his gaze to the tree, gasping as you saw a thick, dark green vine wrapped around its bulbous trunk, stretching down from the palace wall and to the ground below, curling around your feet.

When you glanced back to the man before you, he was already pulling his hood back up over his face, ready to disappear back into the blackness.

"Wait!" You called out before you could think better of it, and he stopped, cocking his head.

You swallowed hard, and took a step toward him.

"Will I see you again, your highness?"

You swore he smiled beneath the hood.

"Call it what you will, Goddess of Spring-fate, destiny, the will of the gods-but I think you and I will be seeing each other again very soon. Very soon indeed."

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"You can't have her, you know."

Changbin took another long sip of his drink, cheeks already rosy, and followed Chan's hungry gaze across the room to you, standing close by your mother's side.

He simply shrugged when Chan turned to shoot him a glare.

"Her mother would never allow it. She hates your fucking guts. Not to mention-" He leaned over and lowered his voice, as if he was telling Chan a secret. He could smell the liqueur on the younger god's breath. "-the whole 'Underworld Ruling' thing."

Chan is saved from having to respond by the appearance of Minho, flute of champagne in hand, look of annoyed disgust on his face, as he slid past the hulking god beside Chan and took a seat on the duvet across from them.

His brother glanced dismissively at Chanbin, leaning back to take another long swallow of his drink.

"Nephew."

Changbin grinned and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Uncle."

Minho arched a brow and his nose wrinkled slightly in open distaste. "Do you ever not wear armor?"

Changbin grinned bigger, and slapped a loud palm to the armor fitted perfectly to his broad chest.

"Of course not! I'm the God of War. Always have to be ready for anything, Uncle. You know how it is."

"I'm sure I don't." Minho sniffed, raising his champagne delicately to his lips, and taking a tiny sip. "The Ocean does not concern itself with the dealings of mortals. Let alone their trivial pursuits of war."

Changbin merely shrugged, and stood, slapping a powerful hand to Chan's shoulder, which sent him jolting forward in his seat, rubbing his offended arm and glaring up once more at the towering figure of his nephew.

"I'm off to find another drink. And maybe a few maidens." Changbin announced, giving Minho a mock salute, as the man stared him down with annoyed disdain. "Take care, uncles."

And with that, he was gone.

Minho's gaze flitted to Chan, and he took another long, slow sip of his drink.

Chan felt his eyes unwittingly pulled back to the other side of the room, but you had disappeared from view, probably dragged off by your mother for more introductions.

"I'm surprised you came."

Chan let his gaze drift back to his brother across from him, and offered him a tilt of his head in acknowledgement, reaching for his own glass of forgotten champagne.

"Yes, well, that makes both of us. I'd hoped to not find myself at another one of these damned archaic, presumptuous affairs for another eon or so."

The corner of Minho's lip flickered with amusement, and his eyes roamed past Chan to the dozens of gods and demi gods currently mingling on the expanse of Hyunjin's vast dance floor.

"Our baby brother is good for very few things, and throwing amusing soirees is indeed not one of them."

Chan felt his own lips quirk into the hint of a smirk, and he raised his glass to Minho in silent salute.

Minho tilts his own champagne in response, and they both take a deep draft of the shimmering, bubbly liquid.

His brothers were hard to tolerate on the best of days, but he'd always felt like Minho understood him just a little bit more than Hyunjin ever had.

Standing, Chan places down the now empty glass and nods to Minho in farewell.

"I've made an appearance. Now it's time to take my leave."

Minho watched him in silence for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, and then with a flick of his fingers, he filled Chan's empty glass back up with water.

Chan stared at him, and he arched a brow.

"Drink some water before you go, brother. It'll help with the hangover tomorrow."

He sighed, reaching for the glass, and downed the water in one gulp.

"There. Happy?"

Minho's mouth flickered again. "Almost." He cocked his head, and let his gaze roam over Chan's body, as if he could see the way his muscles tensed, the way his mind swirled, already thinking about running into you on his way out.

When Chan went to move past him, Minho put an arm out, stopping him in his tracks.

"Careful, brother." Minho murmured, eyes dark and discerning, trapping him in place. "Interest is a fickle, fleeting thing, but obsession is fatal."

There was a beat of tense, deafening silence, Minho staring at him like he could see right through him.

Chan shook his head, and broke the spell.

"Thanks for the advice." Chan grunted, pushing past him without another glance, stalking toward the exit, not caring as he shouldered past the partygoers, earning himself a round of nasty looks.

The cold night air of Olympus embraced him as he pushed through the double doors and into the opulent garden beyond.

Unlike the swirling colors and lights and noise of the party inside, the garden was deserted at this time of night-dark and quiet and abandoned-just how he liked it.

Taking in a deep breath, holding it as the frigid air seared his lungs, Chan strode deeper into the garden, walking between the towering, shadowy rows of hedges, clearing his head.

The music had almost faded out of ear shot, when he heard it-a small, unfamiliar sound that immediately caught his attention.

He paused, freezing, and listening.

There it was again, just around the next bend, somewhere near the center of the hedge maze, beside the fountain he knew graced the large stone courtyard lined with benches hidden amongst the neatly trimmed foliage.

Taking another quiet step so he could round the corner, he heard it once more.

It almost sounded like-a gasp?

Chan came around the hedge quietly, on full alert, his footsteps silent, and as the fountain came into view, he caught sight of a figure leaning back on one of its edges on the other side, obscured through the haze of the water.

Another creeping step forward, still hidden by the shadows of the bushes, and the person came into view.

It was you-sitting on the marble edge of the fountain, dress hiked up around your knees, leaning forward as you focused on something intently.

Chan narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was you were doing, and when he realized, as another little breathy moan left your lips and your wrist spasmed, he halted, feet suddenly leaden.

Gods above, you were touching yourself.

He should move, he should announce his presence, he should leave, he shouldn't be watching you in this very private, very vulnerable moment, but he can't seem to get himself to break the spell, watching you silently from the shadows of the hedge as you pleasure yourself.

You let out that sound again-a breathless sort of stifled release of breath-and Chan felt his dick start to swell in response, straining against the fine fabric of the slacks he wore.

You let your head fall back, eyes screwed closed, lips parted, as your fingers continue their work, and Chan's eyes are drawn to the way your chest heaves for breath, the perfect swell of your breasts straining against the corset you wear.

Suddenly, he can move again.

Stepping quietly from the shadows, he approached, moving to stand in front of you, and as if you could sense his sudden presence, his eyes on you, your eyelids fluttered open, your mouth forming a perfect 'o' of surprise as you caught sight of him.

"Y-your highness-" You stuttered out, cheeks immediately blooming pink, and Chan was enthralled by the way the rosy color spread rapidly down your chest.

You made a move to remove your fingers, tugging at your billowing skirts, but Chan held up a hand, his eyes meeting your own.

"No. Don't stop."

You froze, staring at him, wide eyed, like a fawn caught in the daylight, and he made an attempt to soften the gravel of his voice, repeating again, softer this time, "Keep going. Please."

You stared at him for another long moment, and he couldn't breathe, maybe you were going to run, maybe you were going to tell on him, what a pervert he'd been, maybe you were disgusted-

And then, slowly, eyes still holding his own, you let your fingers dip back beneath the folds of your gown.

He could tell the moment you made contact again, because your body stiffened, and that sound-the one that went right to his cock-passed your parted lips once more.

Chan watched you, mesmerized, as you let your fingers do the work, arching your body on the edge of the fountain to find the right angles, all the while, holding his gaze unwaveringly.

You were brave, he'd give you that.

You gasped, mouth falling open, and he saw the way your wrist twisted, picking up pace.

He imagined how wet you were, how easily your fingers slid in and out, and he clenched his hands at his side to keep himself in place, to force himself to let you be.

"What do you think about?" He asked suddenly, licking his lips, his mouth desperately dry.

"What-" You started to question, the words breaking off into a breathy moan that had him painfully hard, even harder than before.

He took a step closer.

"What do you think about? When you're getting yourself off?"

Your eyes had screwed closed as you grew closer to release, but you managed to flutter them back open to meet his gaze, your face twisted into the start pleasure, your fingers never stopping.

"You!" You gasped out desperately, chest heaving, free hand digging into the marble ledge of the fountain, fingers white with the effort of holding back.

Chan watched as you came then, crying out and body vibrating, and when the orgasm had finished ripping through you, you slumped back, breathing hard and cheeks flushed.

Pulling your hand from your skirts, Chan tried not to focus on the way your fingers glistened as you wiped them off on your dress.

He was rooted to the spot, watching you come down, cock aching and leaking down his leg, wishing he was the one who'd undone you so fully, when you finally met his gaze once more.

Your expression was unsure, lips pressed into a thin line, when you repeated softly, defeatedly, "You. I think about you."

You sat up, straightening your skirts with your clean hand, and Chan resisted moving closer to you with what very little willpower he had left.

You were biting your lip, staring at the ground between the two of you, when he conjured a trace of shadow, using it to caress your chin and tilt your gaze back up to meet his.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, your skin pebbling into goosebumps beneath the touch of the shadow, but you didn't move, you didn't look afraid.

Chan felt the corner of his mouth lift into the hint of a smile as he let the shadow trace your cheekbone, brushing back a loose strand of damp hair into your elegant braid.

"You know, little blossom, my brothers say you're a problem."

Your eyes widened a little more, and then a flash of indignation crossed your pretty features.

"Why?"

Chan cocked his head, studying you, and you stared right back.

"Because I want you, but I can't have you. And I tend to have a fatal flaw of getting obsessive over things that are kept from my grasp."

He flicked away the shadow with his fingers, burying his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he let the words settle between you.

His dick was still unyieldingly hard.

Your lips parted slightly, as if surprised by his admission, and then a brief, mischievous smile flashed across your lips, catching him off guard.

You tilted your head, and your lips quirked upward into a bigger, sweeter smile.

"Your highness?"

"Yes?"

You hopped down from the ledge of the fountain, and found your shoes, slipping your feet into them as he watched, waiting for you to continue.

When you stepped toward him, closing the distance, he resisted every urge to grab you and slot his mouth hungrily over yours.

You looked up at him curiously, studying his features, your eyes large and dark, framed by the longest eyelashes he had ever seen.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, as if you were telling him a secret only known to the two of you.

"What do you think about when you come?"

He stared at you, trying to put the words with the movement of your lips.

Finally, he swallowed, watching your eyes flit down to follow the movement of his throat.

"You."

"Hm." You hummed beneath your breath, lips twitching, as you finally slipped past him, headed back in the direction of the party.

Chan whirled, watching you go, and as if you could feel his eyes on you, you turned and paused when you reached the hedges, fingers trailing over the dark, emerald leaves, leaving shining pink flowers behind in their wake.

"Interesting." You arched a brow, giving him a half, knowing smile. "And here I was, thinking my little obsession was one sided."

Chan let a shadow slink from the hedge beside you and trail around one of your ankles.

You grinned at him once more, and slipped silently from view.

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Chan steps off the elevator and is immediately met with the largest bouquet of flowers he's ever seen, shoved directly into his face.

He swats them away with annoyance, and the person carrying the atrocity comes into view, panting like they've just carted weighted rocks up the floors of the building and not obnoxiously perfumed flowers.

"Oh, hey boss." Jeongin beams, adjusting the vase of flowers in his arms, so that he can reach up and push the cap he wears back slightly, revealing a sweaty swath of dark hair.

"I got you flowers!" He holds up the arrangement, as if Chan can't see them, and follows him when he stalks past him toward his private office.

Setting the bouquet down on the front desk as they pass, flashing Chan's assistant a winning smile, Jeongin hurries to keep up with Chan's long strides, floating slightly above the floor.

"Well, Persephone did, technically, but you know, she asked me to give them to you so-"

Chan ignores the chattering messenger god beside him, and turns a left down the hall, already silently going over the meetings he has scheduled for today in his head.

Turning another corner, he's just about to push into conference room two, when Jeongin slides in front of him, spreading his arms out to block his way and trying to catch his breath.

"Whoa, boss. You can't go in there."

Chan stares the kid down, expression stoic.

"Jeongin. Get out of my way."

Jeongin doesn't budge, though Chan can see a flicker of fear flash across his dark gaze as he stands in front of Chan's looming, annoyed figure.

He reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck in clear discomfort, and shuffles from one winged foot to another.

"Okay, but here's the thing-" He starts, hemming and hawing, glancing past Chan and to the hallway, then back to the god standing in front of him.

"Jeongin." Chan warns, beginning to think there's something going on that he doesn't know about, and nothing pisses him off more than to be oblivious.

Jeongin clears his throat and gives him a half hearted smile. "Persephone kinda asked me to keep you out of the conference room today because she's kindameetingwithhermomtodiscussthingswithoutyou."

Chan stares blankly at the boy in front of him, wringing his hat now between anxious hands, and then asks quietly, dangerously, "She what?"

Jeongin swallows, the gulp is audible in the tense silence, but still holds his position blocking Chan from the doorway.

It's admirable, he'll give him that.

He gives a little shrug and a sheepish smile. "Sorry, boss?"

Chan growls beneath his breath in frustration, and pinches his nose.

He can feel a headache coming on.

"Fine." He grinds out, the muscles in his jaw popping with his irritation as he clenches his teeth and glances past Jeongin to the waiting conference room. "But you're to come and get me as soon as they're finished." He points a stern finger into the middle of Jeongin's chest. "And Demeter is not, I repeat not, allowed to be alone at any time while she's in the Underworld, understood?"

Jeongin nods and gives him a little salute, even as Chan is already stalking away.

"Yes, sir!" He calls out down the hallway, voice echoing off the walls and exacerbating Chan's growing headache. "I won't let you down, boss! You can count on me!"

Chan mumbles something beneath his breath about hiring new wingmen, and locks himself in his office.

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Chan doesn't get to see you for the rest of the day.

The hours slip by, and he's faced with problem after problem-mortal souls unhappy with their judgement, wraiths he employs needing his every attention and signature, accountants wanting to see him about the toll to cross the Styx ('inflation is happening you know!')-and by the time he finally gets home, well after sunset, his every muscle is tight with irritation.

He walks in to see you in the kitchen, apron tied tightly around your waist, Cerberus at your feet, dozing with his head on his huge paws.

The dog gives a thump of his tail when Chan appears, alerting you to his presence, and you glance up from whatever it is you're chopping, giving him a wide, bright smile.

He's not fooled. It doesn't reach your eyes.

Pushing aside the monstrous bouquet from earlier that now resides in the middle of the giant, granite island that takes up a majority of the kitchen, he raps his knuckles on the stone, watching you carefully, his head cocked.

"I heard your mother stopped by today."

He watches the way your chopping stalls, but you don't look up at him, chest inflating with a silent breath before you turn, tossing the carrots into the large stew pot on the stove.

"Yes." You finally say, back still to him.

He tries to force the irritation simmering just below the surface down, relaxing his whitened fingers one by one, as he blows out a long, slow breath.

"(Y/N)."

You turn then, at the use of your given name said in his stern tone, and resume cutting, chopping blocks of beef into smaller cubes.

Chan blows out another breath, harsher this time, and rubs at his temple.

The headache from before is still lingering, pounding now that he's finally left the office for the day.

"What did you talk about?"

You flick your eyes briefly up to his, and then back to the meat beneath your knife.

"Her 'temper tantrum' as I believe you put it."

Chan winces slightly. That wording probably didn't go over very well.

"And?" He prods, leaning against the counter, leaning down so he can glance into your face.

You bite your lip, and he sees you blow out a breath, before you look up at him and force that smile back onto your face-the fake, overly saccharine one from before, the one he doesn't buy for a moment.

"Do we really need to talk about this right now? You just got home, and dinner is almost ready-"

Chan flattens his hands, palms down, on the cold granite, and doesn't let you look away.

"Yes."

Your fingers tighten around the knife, and he sees you let out a shuddering breath.

At your feet, Cerberus cocks his head, your obvious display of uncertainty grabbing his attention.

"Channie-" You start to say, and he watches the way your throat bobs with a swallow.

Anger swirls into embers in the pit of his stomach.

He leans forward, dark eyes flashing. "What did she fucking do? If she so much as made you feel bad for any of this, I won't hesitate to pay her a little visit in the mortal realm-"

"No, no." You wave your hands, finally meeting his gaze once more, your bottom lip wobbly and your eyes shiny. "It's nothing like that."

Chan feels his heart immediately sink.

A tear drips down the length of your cheekbone, and he resists the urge to lean across the counter and swipe it away.

You rub at your eyes with your hands, and breath in an unsteady inhale.

Cerberus stands, butting his blocky head into your hand, until you let out a slight, watery chuckle, and begin to pet his dark ears.

"She-" You start to say, then stop, and Chan stares at you, frozen in sudden fear.

The flowers sitting in their vase on the counter begin to wilt and turn brown and brittle, dropping leaves to the granite like snow fall.

Chan ignores them.

You take in another breath, and pick the knife back up, moving to chop again.

"She wants to make a deal. She wants me to spend Spring in the mortal realm, with her, so I can fulfill my duties every year. And then I'll stay here, with you, the rest of the time."

You look up at him, your expression vulnerable, unsure. There's hurt in your eyes.

Chan's thoughts stop. His body goes cold. There's a buzzing in his ears, and he doesn't know if the shadows are lengthening, or if his sudden loss of control is causing everything to creep in.

He turns, and without a word, flicks a shadow out to send the vase of now withered flowers crashing to the ground.

You yelp, jumping at the noise, and Chan stands, back to you, staring at the mess he's made, chest heaving, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

The mess he always makes.

After a beat of silence, he hears you put down the knife, and then your soft footsteps, as you pad around the counter and kneel on the ground next to the shattered vase.

Slowly, without looking at him, you reach out and begin to pick up the broken pieces.

Chan breathes in, breathes out. His headache is pounding.

"Little blossom, leave it-"

He starts to say, moving to crouch before you, just as you pick up another piece of sharp ceramic and wince, instantly dropping the piece back down with a clatter, as you pull your hand back against your chest.

Chan reaches out and tugs your hand back into view, watching as the cut on your palm starts to slowly leak golden, shining ichor down the line of your wrist, dripping on the floor between the two of you.

His breath stalls as he glances up to your pained expression, all the anger leaving his body in an instant.

"You're bleeding."

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"You're bleeding."

Chan glanced up at the sound of your voice behind him, meeting your concerned gaze in the mirror, where he remained, leaning over the basin, palms on the cool ledge of the sink, watching the water swirl away down the drain.

"Yeah, well-" He gave a little humorless chuckle as he watched the water shimmer with the ichor he washed from his knuckles, before he straightened and dried his hands, glancing once more at you in the reflection of the mirror. His mouth quirked up into the hint of a smirk, and he winced as it pulled at the split skin of his lip, tasting fresh ichor on his tongue. "-luckily for me, my brother hits like a pussy when he's been drinking."

Your eyes widened. "He hit you?"

Chan turned, swiping a hand across his mouth now, tossing the towel to the side. "Yeah, well, I probably deserved it."

He'd no more than finished the admission than you're at his side, taking his hand in yours, your eyes raking across the golden liquid that marked his knuckles, tacky and congealing.

You glanced up at him, curiosity flashing across your pretty features.

"What did you do?" You questioned in a whisper, as if asking him to divulge a dark secret.

Chan almost grinned-you're too fucking adorable-but he leaned in, his forehead brushing yours, expression serious, and lowered his voice to match yours.

"I told him, little blossom, that there's no way in fucking Tartarus that I'm going to another one of his stupid, historic parties, unless of course, it's thrown for us and planned in celebration of our marriage."

You stared up at him for a silent moment, and Chan almost backtracked, wondering if he'd been too bold, when a slight smile curved your lips up mischievously.

"Well." You released his hand and straightened the collar of the suit he wore, before stepping back, eyeing him up and down, head cocked with interest.

The look on your face took his breath away.

"Then I guess you'd better get me a ring, hadn't you?"

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Chan slips your ring carefully from your finger, lying it beside the sink, before he tends to the wound on your palm.

You protest the whole time, claiming it's fine and you're fine and he's being dramatic, but Chan's heart won't stop pounding in his chest until every last drop of your golden blood is wiped clean from your skin.

When he's satisfied with himself, he helps you get down from your position atop the bathroom counter, and pushes you gently toward the waiting shower.

"I'll just be a minute." He says, as you roll your eyes, but strip your clothes anyway, waiting before he hears the water turn on, before he darts back to the kitchen.

He cleans up the mess he made in his anger, and goes back to the bathroom.

He watches you for a moment, through the steamy, hazed glass surrounding the large shower, your perfect outline stretched back beneath the pounding water, and then gets rid of his own clothes, tossing his suit to the side, before he slips into the shower to join you.

You glance at him over your shoulder as he enters, wet hair plastered to your skin, lips pulled into a worried pout.

"Channie-" You start to say, but he steps to you and pulls you flush against his bare chest before you can get any of the other words out.

Your arms go around his waist, fingers tickling the skin of his back, and he lets out a long, slow breath, the exhale rustling your hair, your face buried in the planes of his chest.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes softly, and you pull back to look up at him, eyes wide and soft.

"You don't need to apologize." You say, reaching up to shove some of his thick, dark hair back off his forehead, starting to grow heavy with water.

"I do." He nods, staring down at you, letting his finger go beneath your chin, as he traces the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"You're my wife, yes, but you're also a Goddess, and I need to remember that."

You stare up at him silently, letting him continue, and he lets out another breath, reaching his hand up to cup the side of your face, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

"You have your own duties and responsibilities, and I'm being selfish keeping you here. I can't hide you away forever."

The corner of your mouth wrinkles, as if you're thinking about smiling.

"Are you sure?" You nuzzle into his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

"As much as I would like to-" He starts, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, moving up along your cheekbone. "-I can't. The mortals-and Demeter-need you."

You sigh, he feels it in the way your chest brushes his, and lay your head on his chest, listening for a moment, to his heartbeat.

He strokes your damp hair, and finally you say quietly, "All right. But I don't have to like it, right?" You pull back, looking up at him with a tremble in your bottom lip.

"No, you don't, little blossom." He gives you a half smile, bending his head to press a kiss to your throat, than to the swell of the start of your breast. His cock twitches at the feel of your soft skin beneath his tongue. "I'm sure as fuck not going to like it."

You give a little laugh, slightly watery, and reach up to swipe the tears from your eyes.

"What will you do?" You ask with a shaky breath, staring up at him in a way that makes Chan's heart squeeze, his insides feel tight with all the love he has for you. "While I'm gone?"

He gives a slight shrug, leaning against the shower wall, as you move to start shampooing your hair into a lather.

"Run the Underworld. Judge the mortals. The usual stuff. I mean, what did I do before I had you?"

"Brood." You reply back instantly, glancing at him cheekily over your shoulder as you turn to rinse your hair.

He leaps forward and pins you to the wall as you shriek, tickling your sides as you wriggle to get away from him, laughing so hard it makes you breathless.

He pulls back, letting you breathe, and you push some wet hair from your face, taking in a couple of calming breaths, before your eyes meet his once more.

The mirth disappears from your pretty features, and Chan feels his chest tighten.

"Seriously though, Channie, I-" You swallow, Chan watches your throat bob, and your eyes grow shiny again. "-I don't know how I lived all those eons without you. And now, to have to leave-"

"Hey, hey." He steps toward you once more, caging you in the protection of his arms beneath the warm spray of water. You bury your face in his chest. "Pet. Look at me."

Finally, you do, raising watery eyes to his, and he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

"Listen to me, little blossom." He reaches up, stroking your hair behind your ear. "We're talking about months here. Just a few months topside, to soothe your mother, and then you'll be back home with me before you know it."

You sniff, swiping at your nose, and then nod.

"You're right. I know you are."

Chan gives you a half smile, gentle and soft, and leans down to press a kiss to the part of your lips.

The thought of you leaving his side is ripping him apart, but he manages to keep his expression neutral, if only for you.

He presses another, longer kiss against the column of your throat, and takes a moment to breathe you in.

"I love you. I always have, even before I knew you, even before I saw you, and nothing, and no one, will ever change that. You are, and always will be, my obsession, Goddess of Spring."

You look up at him with tear filled eyes, and lean up to press a kiss to his own lips.

"I love you too, God of the Dead. You're the only thing in my entire, immortal days that has ever managed to bring my heart to life, and I thank you for it."

A genuine smile tugs at Chan's lips now.

"Ironic, coming from the Goddess of Rebirth about the Ruler of Souls."

You give a little laugh, eyes sparkling as you look up at him. "I guess so."

Chan tugs you to him and, determined to memorize how you feel, kisses you long and hard beneath the cooling water of the shower.

Inside his chest, his heart flicks out a shadow to meet the flowering vine snaking from your own.

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"Do you think we're all fated to another?"

You ask, lying beside Chan on the grass, the cool night breeze kissing patterns across your bare skin.

He turns his head to look at you, staring up at the stars overhead, fingers twined within his own.

The ring on your finger brushes his knuckle, and a warm sensation washes over him at the thought that you're his now-for eternity.

"Isn't that mortal shit?" He asks teasingly, and you turn to give him a glare, but it only succeeds in making him more endeared, your nose crinkling up and your lips pursing.

"Well, yes, but-" You shrug, turning back to the sky, reaching up your free hand to splay your fingers against the backdrop of the shimmering stars. "-do you?"

Chan considers.

He's never put much stock in fate, or destiny, or anything else the mortals believe in, and he says as much, rolling over to look at you, his hand skimming your bare hip.

"I don't know. But what I do know is this." He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, where you lie, watching him, from the grass.

He lets his finger trail over the marks of his teeth blooming on your shoulder, the love bites already turning purple up the column of your throat, soothed by his tongue.

"Fate is fickle, I don't like to rely on it. Fuck, sometimes, I don't even think I can rely on myself, but I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you and I, little blossom? We were meant to be. And nobody, not fate or any of that other shit that mortals believe in, made that happen. We did."

He watches you as you pause, considering, and then you give him a smile that steals his breath, sitting up beside him to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"Fuck fate." You breathe against his lips, and right now, in this moment, with your skin pressed against his, your warmth settled firmly in his lap, his ring on your finger, Chan thinks he has to agree.

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Chan trips over one of Cerberus' toys and gives the big dog a glare, tucked safely away under the kitchen table, his head on his paws.

"I swear to god, your mom is coming home today, and if she sees the state you left this house in-" He threatens vaguely, waving the toy around, before tossing it into the basket in the corner.

"I'll what?"

Chan whirls so fast at the sound of your amused voice that he almost gives himself whiplash, turning to face you in the doorway, a grin on your lips and your suitcase in your hand.

You give him a little wave, suddenly shy, as he continues to stare at you, rooted to the spot.

"Hi?"

He's moving then, crashing into you and sweeping you up into his arms with such force that you lose your breath, dropping your suitcase to the floor, as he pulls you in tight to his chest.

You're laughing and crying, and Chan breathes you in, nose pressed to the top of your head, like he's a starving man seeing food for the first time.

You pull back, just enough to smooth your palms over the side of his face, your eyes still shiny with unshed tears.

"I missed you, Channie."

"Fuck." He breathes out, crushing you back to him again, never letting you go. "I missed you too, little blossom."

You laugh again, a watery sound, and press kisses to every inch of his face you can reach from his embrace.

Chan feels like he can finally breathe properly for the first time in months.

"What did you think about while I was gone?" You ask, your eyes sparkling, as if you already know the answer.

He lets out the breath he's been holding, and leans forward to kiss you breathless.

"You." He breathes back in response, and your lips part with pleasure at his answer. "Always you."

And then he kisses you long enough to make up for all the time missed-past and present.

[freckles-a-constellation]

The Doctor is a tragic character in the best Greek tragedy tradition.

So y'all know how the most common driving factor for intelligence to develop in species is if they're social? (Octopi aren't very social but let's ignore that real quick, the Doctor's a vertebrate anyway so invertebrate intelligence can probably be dismissed as irrelevant) Because after a point, more intelligence isn't really needed to avoid danger or gather food. But more intelligence does make it possible to communicate more efficiently, form more complex social bonds, eventually develop culture. Cue why social species tend to be more intelligent than solitary ones of otherwise comparable lifestyle. And cue why humanity is the way it is.

Now look at Gallifreyans. (I am purposefully ignoring the Timeless Child thing bc I don't rlly believe it and besides, even assuming it's true, The Doctor is similar enough to Gallifreyans to have flawlessly believed himself/themselves/herself to be one for 13+ regenerations, so anything that can be concluded to be true from analysis of Gallifreyans has good basis to be presumed true about the Doctor, whatever the fuck semantics you wanna use) So, Gallifreyans. A species much more advanced than according to DW canon humanity will ever be. More intelligent than humanity. High levels of education and not on the basis of private tutoring. Lives in cities. Has complex language and technology capable of instantly translating pretty much any language of any other species to be understandable to them. (Hell the TARDIS consistently still translates shit to English for the companions while they're outside it.) Complex social structure. That's one fucking social species.

And it gets better. The TARDIS is meant to be operated by a team of six. And even if River was joking about six, it's still clear that it should at least be more than one. Compare the Doctor steering the TARDIS alone to when he was with Susan. I mean, even those two looked like they could use an extra hand. Have you ever seen a human private use vehicle designed with 2+ pilots in mind? Definitely a species more social than humanity.

And the telepathy thing? Hello? Insanely, mind-boggingly social species.

Now take a being this fundamentally social and do something to them so that they see no recourse other than to take one (1) same-species (as far as he was aware disclaimer ig) companion, steal a ship they have little to no clue how to pilot, leave everything and everyone they've ever known and run without ever stopping for breath, no matter how much they miss home, no matter if it hurts. (And I do believe something must have happened to make him run like that, since the beggining, way before the Time War) Have them be scorned, judged, punished, mistreated and rejected by their species, again and again, for ages. Have them love, again and again, only to always lose everyone they've cared about, through abandonment or death. Have them essentially be forced to exterminate their whole species and believe themselves to be the last of their kind, only to be proven wrong by the whole Master situation, which alright is better, but also in some ways is worse. Have them, once again, form deep bonds with companions and once again lose all of them in various varyingly tragic ways until they have no hope left that anyone can ever truly stay for any amount of time even close to satisfactory, that love can for them end in anything but loss and pain. And they can't even avoid love altogether in an effort to spare themselves the inevitable agony of losing loved ones, because they're incapable of not growing to care for those around them. And they can't be without company either, because their sanity goes straight to hell in a handbasket within like,, 5 minutes of being alone.

Let me remind you this is not a human we're talking about. It's a member of a species much more inherently social than humanity. My point?

The Doctor is literally more lonely than the human brain can comprehend.

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

Really genuinely asking- I love Louis btw I just have been thinking about this. I feel like Louis relationship w Oli is a little… I’m not even sure. If I’m being completely honest I think there’s no way that’s a normal friendship. I can’t imagine making one of my childhood friends my PA, I get so confused when he calls Oli his best friend sometimes bc what kinda best friends have a friendship where one friend is basically serving the other and on their payroll. I’m not saying it’s bad of Louis or anything I think it’s nice of him to give him a job but I lowkey am so confused by what their dynamic is. I feel like if u present it on paper it’s just … odd. Like what motivation (other than a job) does Oli have to dedicate his life to Louis? I used to wonder if they were dating but then that weirded me out bc i just rly don’t like the thought of that bc now he’s his PA childhood best friend and … anyway. I’m just sooo confused by how and if they have any sort of normal relationship. And also HOW? I hope this makes sense

Like any longterm relationship, it’s an arrangement that both find satisfactory, at least for now.

Louis gets to have someone he trusts close to him at all times, someone that his family can contact knowing he will get messages to Louis and be reliable.

Oli gets to live the life of a rock star’s assistant but be treated like a friend, a colleague. He can travel the world and meet people, be given respect and status because of his friendship.

Imagine if Liam had a friend like Oli who is reliable, trustworthy, and discreet? Available at all hours? Keeps Louis real and grounded?

Oli isn’t independently wealthy, at least not on Louis’ level, which is a good thing. As many fans have noted, unlike most 1D “friendships,” Oli isn’t scheming to make money from his association with Louis.

I doubt that Oli is with Louis all the time when Louis isn’t on tour or vacation. At some point, Oli will likely leave to start his own family.

[megabuild]

can i ask for ur life series impulse thoughts again because the spirit (bdubs DL watchthrough) is haunting me again. like he doesn't do anything too awful but like. what is his deal man.

hi liau. its very funny to me you are not the first and will probably not be the last to ask me what traffic!impulse's problem is, because i seriously never talk about it or give a remote shit about him, and every time i DO talk about him i am constantly terrified an impulse main will come and get mad at me for being wrong, which i likely am. but anyway, i think you've very succinctly hit the nail on the head in your ask without even meaning it; that impulse's problem is that he doesn't do anything too awful.

3rd life and its sequels are series where all characters are at the very least morally grey. if you're doing analysis you have to take the situation somewhat realistically, and within that you must assume that while they are in a survival situation, they are still killing people or aiming to kill people, so there is never going to be a character who is completely exempt. then, above that, you have characters who closer resemble villains (though i wouldn't personally call them that) due to having more overtly "morally wrong" actions- eg. secret life scar, third life grian, limited life martyn, even last life bdubs. that isn't to say these characters are bad, but rather that their actions stretch a little further, be that due to betrayals, overzealousness, or mockery. and something special about 3rd life is that most of the time they own this. they lean into the villain role, or are self aware enough to recognise their actions are bad, but do it anyway; it gives them complexity! and in a survival game, you can understand why.

so, leading on from this, impulse's problem is precisely as you said: in a game of people who are willing to be awful, he isn't TOO awful, but is still awful enough that it grates. (full disclaimer though it should be obvious this is 100% his character- i don't know if the cc plays it like this intentionally or not, but i don't have any ill feelings towards him regardless.) frankly i think his issue is a total lack of self awareness in general that the others seem to have. impulse, beginning in 3rd life, is traitorous, an ally to all but friend to none, flitting between alliances with the goal of not committing to any of them. other characters do this, but imo they do it better- for example, etho is regularly shown as a character who is absent in his alliances, but often he doesn't pretend to be there, and it's less a goal with the expectation of betrayal but rather a part of his personality. martyn in both 3rd life and limited life is uncommitted to his alliances, but this has a satisfactory ending both times, where in 3rd life he eventually changes his mind to fight alongside ren, and in limited life where he snaps and kills his allies, eventually winning (which also ties into his longer-running lore with e&e quite well imo). impulse, on the other hand... does this okay in 3rd life, and his ending is actually very satisfying- struck down crying that bdubs was a traitor while being a traitor himself. the problem is that this continues on, even once he's moved past the idea of being a traitor, even after he commits to the southlands, into double life where he keeps. bringing it up. impulse's issue isn't that he's a bad guy, it's that he's just mildly annoying enough that it goes against the spirit of the game. in a game of people who own their villainy, not only does he not live up to being a villain, but he can't even own being a Slightly Awful guy, and that grates so much more.

ofc this creates an equally complex and interesting character to analyse but as the local bdubs enjoyer it just frustrated me to no end. a solid 70% of my issue with him probably rises instead from that, because while bdubs is also a pretty awful guy, the character at least seems to have a level of self awareness about it, knows what he wants and how to get it, and doesn't care if he has to tread on others or let himself be tread upon to get there. impulse just sort of... doesn't get that. he doesn't seem to actually act on anything, he just sort of... is. like how in double life he comments on bdubs' traitor behaviour but takes no steps to amend that or actually discuss it (likely because they're jokes from a cc perspective, but within universe, it takes a different meaning). i don't know. i really don't know man. how do i finish this post? i don't even know what the fuck i'm saying. did this make sense to anyone

[101ocs]

For Yourself

NOTE: Rae is @sh1mmer-add1ct ‘s bby!! this isn’t actually like…canon canon but it could be…if vie wants *wink wink* ;3 anyway i love these stinkies!!

Despite being known as the family’s book worm, Leslie didn’t like books with no pictures. He loved Batman and Superman or really any sort of superhero comic that was displayed in the corner store downtown, but when it came to novels with just words, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. That’s the position he found himself in that summer afternoon — trying his hardest to keep his attention on the book in his hands, stained-yellow with age.

His mama wanted him to break the cycle of illiteracy in the family. Her, Sissy, and his Uncle Drayton were the only ones who could actually read in the bloodline, so having an extra set of eyes would benefit them in the long run. There was a time where Mama tried to teach Johnny how to read too, but he just wasn’t having it. And when Johnny makes up his mind, it’s impossible to change it. That’s why their mama put all her concentration onto Leslie instead, so that she’d be able to have some success somewhere. Luckily for her, Leslie was able to surpass the reading comprehension level of his age.

But that didn’t mean he liked it.

Pouting his lips and swinging his legs under the table, Leslie furrowed his brows and tried his best to stay focused. The words were steadily becoming more and more irrelevant to the thoughts in his head and, eventually, he allowed himself to give his eyes a break by looking up.

Across the table sat the family’s dessert. Bound by rope and gagged with a cloth wrapped around his head, his head hung low and his eyes were wide with tears. Leslie didn’t think much of him before, but seeing as how bored he was, he decided to fixate his attention onto him instead.

“Hey,” Leslie whispered.

The sound of pots and pans clicking together in the kitchen was enough to muffle his words from being heard by anyone else. The man’s eyes shot up at him instantaneously, wide and tense. That was the first good look Leslie had of him. Usually their faces looked a lot less pretty at this point, but his eyes lined up just about right with all the others.

“Do you know how to read?”

The question was sort of stupid. Anyone from the city could most definitely read since they all went to school by law. But Leslie didn’t know what else to say, so he ended up rolling with the punches. The young man nodded.

Wiggling in his seat, Leslie looked up toward the ceiling trying to think of something else to say. “Mama wants me to read this book, but it’s really boring. Do you wanna read it instead?”

The response he received was less than satisfactory. He wriggled and lowered his head again, grinding against the gag in his mouth. Like all the others. Boring.

Leslie sighed and stood from his seat, approaching the man with a discreet look of disappointment. He turned his head away from Leslie as soon as he came into reach. It was almost funny to think that an almost full-grown man was afraid of a ten-year-old.

“I’m pretty scary, huh?” Leslie teased. He placed the book in front of him, pointing at the word he was previously trying to read. “Hey, c’mon. If I untie the cloth in your mouth, will you tell me what that word is?”

Suddenly a spark of hope burned in the man’s eyes. He nodded rapidly and fixated his gaze onto Leslie’s face. As much as he hated to admit it, Leslie almost felt intimidated.

As he worked to untie the gag in his mouth, Leslie found himself muttering a few apologies for tugging on his blonde hair while trying to loosen the knot. Considering uncle Nubbins was responsible for the bind, it took him a while to make it come off. Once it did though, the man coughed violently and swung his head back with heavy breaths, nearly hitting Leslie in the forehead.

Leslie pointed at the word again. “What does that say?”

“Indistinguishability.” His chest heaved in and out with every syllable, his face covered with sweat. “It says indistinguishability.”

“Indistinguishability. That’s a big word.”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, it is.”

With a hard blink or two, Leslie tried to think of something else to say. Mama never let him speak to visitors before so making small conversation wasn’t particularly his forte. Thinking back on how Johnny spoke to people in the city, he decided it would be best to replicate that.

“So, what’s your name?”

With a sharp breath, he responded in a whisper. “Rae. What about you, kid?”

“Leslie Sawyer,” he said with a big grin. “But everyone calls me Les.”

“Les,” he repeated. His eyes were an electric blue. “How old are you?”

“I’m ten.”

“You’re old enough to think for yourself then.”

Even though he was confused as to what he was getting at, Leslie nodded confidently. “Uh-huh.”

Rae glanced at his wrists bound to the chair. Leslie followed his eyes.

“Do you think…” he hesitated for a moment or two, taking a look around the room to make sure no one was around. “Do you think you can help me out?”

Leslie had a feeling he knew where this was going. “Mmm, I dunno. Maybe.”

“There was a girl who came here with me. Do you know where she is? I-Is she…” His voice died off from the endless thoughts of what could have happened to her within the time they’d been separated.

“Mama doesn’t let me see our guests very much. Johnny’s the one who shows me. I’d have to ask him.”

“Johnny…” Rae’s voice wobbled. “Don’t mention it to Johnny.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know what he’d do to you for asking something like that. I…I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Leslie laughed. “What? Johnny wouldn’t hurt me! He’s my big brother! Don’t we look alike? …Well besides, why would you care if I got hurt anyway?”

“You’re a kid,” Rae said. It sounded as though he was almost trying to convince himself. “You don’t get how fucked up this is. That’s why…I don’t mind talking to you. I haven’t said a word to anyone else.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think that’s why he’s keeping me alive. He wants to get a reaction outta me.”

That wasn’t a bad theory. Johnny loved to push every button on someone until they cracked. And when they did, they’d meet the “bad man.” Leslie didn’t like thinking about that side of his brother.

“Listen, Les. I want you to tie that knot again.”

“Huh? Why?”

Rae lowered his head and scoffed. “Like I said, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt because of me. If they catch us talking, I don’t think they’d react well. So tie me up and don’t tell anyone we spoke.”

Even though he didn’t want to think that his family would hurt him, he had a feeling Rae was right. For that reason, Leslie tied the knot back up as tight as he could and grabbed his book. Before he scurried off again, he leaned in close to his ear to whisper one last thing to him.

“Don’t die before I come back. I’ll find her.”

Rae nodded. His eyes had a spark again.

/—/—/—/—/—/—/—\—\—\—\—\—\—\

“Johnny?”

The door creaked open louder than anticipated. Darkness shrouded the interior of the shack other than the light that poured in from the opened doorway. Inside that darkness Leslie heard a loud groan, presumably from his older brother just waking up.

“Shut the damn door.”

Leslie gulped and stepped inside, shutting the heavy door behind himself. Now that he was inside, he couldn’t help but get nervous. Johnny wasn’t someone to mess with in the morning like this — especially after drinking the night prior.

Approaching the couch he always slept on, Leslie played with the buttons on his flannel. Heat rose to his neck once he saw the silhouette of his brother’s face.

With another groan, Johnny slightly opened his eyes. “What do you want?”

A hundred ways to start this conversation came to mind. Picking the first one that stuck, Leslie put his knee on the side of the cushion. “I wanna tell you something, but you gotta promise not to tell mama.”

Rolling over on his side to give Leslie some room to sit, Johnny shut his eyes again. “You know I wouldn’t.”

“But just promise me anyway…”

“Fine. I promise.”

“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, Leslie sat down and scanned his face for emotion. “Last night before dinner, I talked to that blonde guy.”

Johnny’s eyelids sprang open in a millisecond. Before Leslie knew it, his shoulders were being gripped tighter than ever and his big brother’s eyes were intensely set in on his own.

“You better tell me every word of what that bastard said to you or so help me God.”

“Okay, okay! Stop squeezing me so much, it hurts!”

Rolling his eyes, Johnny released him and turned on the lamp. He hissed from the light hitting against his face.

“You’re not gonna tell mama, right?”

“No, I’m not gonna tell that woman a word that comes out of your mouth. Now, tell me what happened. All of it.”

Leslie vaguely explained how the conversation started and how it ended, timidly playing with his hair to make himself feel better. After calming Johnny’s nerves enough, he moved forward with the question he really wanted to ask.

“So, do you know where that girl is? I mean, is she still in the basement or…?”

Johnny let out a hoarse laugh and stuck his finger at Leslie’s stomach. “Right in there.”

They had her for dinner. A wave of guilt rushed through his body like a heat stroke, making him feel nauseated. Johnny didn’t seem to notice. He stretched his arms out and leaned against the back of the couch, seeming almost proud of his sly answer.

“We didn’t kill the blonde because Drayton said we don’t have enough room in the upstairs freezer right now. Meat always tastes better in the upstairs freezer. So I’m guessing he’s gonna stick around for another day or two,” Johnny said. “I threw him in the basement last night. Roughed him up pretty bad. He’s a fun one. He doesn’t like to cry. But I made him. I can promise you that.”

Leslie shuddered. He knew that whatever Johnny did, it must’ve hurt like a bitch.

“Okay, lil’ boy. I’m gonna lay down now. Either get out or be quiet.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

There was a long while of silence. Leslie sat on the floor and went through the pile of magazines next to the couch, hoping to find something interesting to read. Most of it had new car models, but at the end of the pile had a bunch of half-naked girls. Leslie’s heart rate spiked just from looking at it. He flipped through more pages than he’d admit.

“Pipsqueak.”

Leslie nearly died of a heart attack, shoving the girl magazines underneath the car ones. “Yeah?”

“When you’re ready for your first, tell me. I wanna be the one to teach you.”

He didn’t have to specify what he meant by “first” — Leslie already knew he was referring to his first kill. Despite being around the family business for as long as he could remember and seeing each member of his family do it, he never did it himself. Uncle Drayton told mama all the time that she should be teaching him by now. She didn’t want to. Whether that’s because she didn’t think he’d be able to handle it or because she didn’t want to let go of her innocent baby, no one knows.

Peering up where Johnny laid, Leslie couldn’t help but smile. “Okay.”

/—/—/—/—/—/—/—\—\—\—\—\—\—\

Upon entering the basement, Leslie had a cold chill that ran up his spine. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was nervous or because of the temperature of the damp air, but nevertheless he tried his best to ignore it.

Johnny wasn’t lying when he said he roughed him up. Just as Leslie suspected, Rae was sleeping with heavy breaths and wounds scattered across his body. He wanted to poke at them. He liked the way flesh felt on the inside.

Fighting against his strong urges, Leslie grabbed the young man’s shoulder and helped him off the ground. “Get up.”

Rae jerked awake after only a few seconds, his eyes shooting around the room to look for any threats. When he realized it was only Leslie, his gaze softened.

“Wh-Where is he? He’s coming to kill me, isn’t he?”

Leslie shook his head. “He’s asleep.”

With a relieved sigh, Rae leaned against the wall and held the bloody gash on his forearm. He winced at the feeling of dirt being mixed into the open wound from his palm.

“Can’t you…stop him? You can tell him to leave us alone…”

“He wouldn’t listen.”

“Did you ask him about her?”

In the back of his mind, Leslie was praying that wouldn’t be brought up. Avoiding his eyes, he bit his tongue. It wasn’t fair to keep him hoping but telling him felt even crueler. With that in mind, Leslie forced the words out of his mouth.

“She’s gone.”

Rae’s eyes, the color of the ocean floor, were reduced to dullness. His worried expression steadily faded into complete and utter despair. Nothing more, nothing less.

Trembling, Leslie stood up and backed away. He couldn’t stand that look. It was like one of the many mangled corpses he’s seen before, only this time…

“I’m sorry,” Leslie muttered. “I’m really sorry, sir. I, um…” his voice was wobbly and for a second, it was like he was a kid all over again. He didn’t want to be treated like a kid. He knew he had to toughen up. Taking a deep breath and nodding firmly, he forced himself to look the blonde in his eyes again. “You won’t have to be away from her for long.”

Rae scoffed with a defeated smile. His eyes lowered to the concrete. “I’m next, huh? Your big brother’s gonna fuck me up? Hm? How do you feel about that, Les?”

Leslie stared at him for a long while. “…How do I feel ab—?”

“—Him killing me. You ever thought it might be wrong? You ever thought for yourself, Leslie?”

Again, silence for a long while. Leslie took a hard swallow, sweat dripping from his forehead and palms of his hands as he processed the question to the best of his ability. Thought for himself. Surely he’d thought for himself before. He was thinking for himself right now. All these decisions that he made thus far interacting with Rae were all controlled by his own thoughts, his own personal beliefs — he was thinking for himself.

And yet, he had never felt so lost in his life while faced with this question.

Leslie’s eyebrows twitched, his lips becoming tighter than a line while he pondered deeply on the subject. Then, with a soft sigh and sad smile, he nodded to himself.

“You came onto our property. You saw everything. If you escaped, you would tell the whole world about what you saw. You’d separate all of us. You’d destroy everything. You’re an outsider, so…so…”

“I have to die.”

Leslie couldn’t bring himself to say it. Dropping his tough facade and biting on his tongue, he finally allowed his true emotions to slip, his true thoughts on the matter. “It wasn’t your fault you saw. You guys were just being…dumb younglings, that’s all.”

“So what, Leslie?”

Finally, he said it. “You don’t deserve to die.”

Rae’s smile, once weak and frail, widened into pure adoration for the boy’s answer. Leslie, on the other side of the coin, felt more conflicted than ever, staring at Rae as though his eyes had opened for the first time.

Softly, with a hoarseness to his voice, Rae called to him. “Then let me go, Les. I won’t tell a soul, I swear to you. Please…”

Leslie looked down the hall where the exit was. Nobody had escaped before. If Rae did, he wasn’t sure he would get blamed for it. Maybe Johnny? Maybe himself? He couldn’t be sure. And what would the punishment be for letting an outsider go back outside? He had to weigh the consequences. He had to toughen up.

“Okay,” Leslie said, kneeling down in front of him. “Okay, but this is all I’ll do. Everything else…you have to figure it out on your own.”

Raw didn’t answer, lifting his wrists for the rope to be cut with Leslie’s small switchblade. It took two attempts before the material finally gave out, falling to the floor and releasing Rae’s once bound limbs.

Leslie stood, backing away instinctively in preparation for Rae to make a foul move. Rae stood with a heavy pant, grabbing at his wounded side.

“I’ll never forget you, Leslie.”

Leslie avoided his eyes with a frown. “You better not get caught.”

[gamesindustrynormal]

It's national coming out day today, back when I was still closeted I spent a good amount of time thinking about what coming out would be like. As I started my transition I started writing down the things I wanted to say – telling my story, in a way – but as I slowly came out to groups of people I realized that telling my story wasn't something I needed to do. The messages I posted at work and on social media ended up being short and factual. The impact it would have on my acquaintances would be minor at best, after all, and I figured the ones that wanted to know more could ask.

This being said, reading the accounts of other trans people has been helpful to me, and I do think every story is unique in some way. So I'm writing it here.

Compared to most of my trans friends, I grew up in a climate that was very egalitarian. The expectations of boys and girls were very similar – we were all expected to learn how to cook and clean, to sew and do woodwork, to have athletic as well as artistic pursuits. I definitely tended to favor activities that had a majority of girls doing them, but boys and girls being friends was not seen as a problem and I never got any pushback. I realized wanting to partake in the "wrong" things that were still gendered made me different, but suppressing those things didn't have a great impact on me. Like, I understood that I wasn't supposed to wear dresses, but honestly most women rarely did that anyway.

Feminism was a big talking point back then, and the dominant idea was that gender differences should be minimized or erased in pursuit of stamping out inequality. And that's the mindset I had grown into when I first heard about transgender people.

It is important to note that the media climate at the time had no sympathy for explicit gender nonconformity. Men pretending to be women was always absurd and played for either comedy or horror, sometimes both. Blanchard had published the autogynephilia drivel, and the common view was that people who wanted to change their sex were crazy, perverts or predators. I mean, some people still believe that but as a teenager I literally had no other impression. When we went over the concept in biology class there was a picture of a man with a beard putting on a wig, my teacher scoffed and proclaimed it to be weird and never touched the subject again. In response to the hostility, the trans community had adopted a narrative of being born in the wrong body, that they were the gender they said they were on a fundamental level and that it would be impossible for them to live as their assigned gender.

It seemed like a way to resolve my feelings and find community so I read everything I could come across from and about trans people. But ultimately it wasn't satisfactory – most of the time, I hadn't been prevented from doing what I wanted, girly or not. I had my friends, my intellectual and creative pursuits, I was doing fine – not despairing under the weight of dysphoria. There were still things I was missing, sure, and I always knew that given the option to be seen and treated like a woman I would have taken it without hesitation. I didn't feel like I could realistically pass though, which meant if I tried I would just be seen as a freak. And there were certainly trans women who didn't pass – if they chose to transition and I was scared to, clearly I did not have the fundamental female essence that the trans women were talking about.

Honestly, perversions and hangups seemed to explain it more easily, like we were supposed to pursue an equal society so struggling with the trappings of manhood was something everyone did, right? thinking about changing your gender felt almost regressive – you were both shirking responsibility and giving it a weight that it shouldn't have.

I talked to a few mental health professionals over the years, they mostly just asked me if I was trans and I said no, which was not super helpful. Finally my current therapist asked me to deconstruct my feelings, stop thinking about it as an all-or-nothing affair and really consider what femininity meant to me, how I could have more of it and how that would feel. Looking at the different parts of transition individually is what finally helped me move forward – I changed my pronouns to they/them, people started saying that and it was a relief I didn't even know I needed. I started accessorizing more, felt better about how I looked and got positive responses for it.

My therapist suggested makeup and I said I was uncomfortable looking at my face in the mirror – they then asked if I had thought about hormone replacement and what it would do for me. Thinking about what the effects would be and how they would individually impact my well-being made it a much easier decision to make than seeing it only as part of a sex change. It took a month or two on hormones before the mood changes kicked in and I started feeling at peace with myself – the rest of it got much easier to figure out after that.

I started transitioning fairly late. I will probably live longer under my current name than my deadname, but it is by no means a given. And for sure part of me wishes I had started earlier. Early enough not to worry about hair loss. Early enough not to have to surgically revert some parts of puberty, and live with other parts. Maybe most important, early enough to work on my identity and flaws at an age where it is more accepted to do so. But at the same time, I can't say I have not taken advantage of some of the privilege afforded me – would I have been as successful an engineer? Would people have placed the same faith in me? Would I have been able to push through impostor syndrome if I wasn't surrounded by peers who looked just like me? I would like to think passion would have carried me, but statistics imply I would have given up. I don't know the person I would have been had I transitioned earlier – she doesn't have my experiences and I don't have hers. For this reason I could never spend too long obsessing over what-ifs.

As a closing note, in script-writing they talk about “the lie the character believes”. I fundamentally had three;

“I can never pass in a way that I am happy with” - having seen what hormones, makeup, fashion and surgery can do this is just not true for most people. The surprising bit is how the mental changes can make it feel unnecessary.

“If I can't pass, there is no point in doing anything” - Pre-transition it's easy to look at clocky trans women and think they have given up, that this is the best some can do and doubt yourself. But it's hard to realize that once you start getting what you want, you get happier and being happy means you maybe don't need as much as you thought you would.

“I can live out my life without transitioning” - This one is tricky, maybe I could have. I don't know that I would have been able to handle the stress of the current games-industry meltdown without being comfortable in my own skin, but there is probably a version of me that survived without. To quote Nimona though, “If I didn't, I'd die. Not die – die, I just sure wouldn't be living”

Happy national coming out day!

[ahc-au]

Heyyy! Love this au and I've gotta know something.

As far as we've seen Bishop's personal guards are all aliens and mutants and an oddly expressive Kraang. Personally I find it hard to believe that even as the beloved and totally-not-evil president, Bishop would ever trust aliens with his personal safety. Especially since in "The Day of Awakening" we see Bishop's personalised task force and it's 99% humans and one Triceraton (and the turtles ig). And I believe that one triceraton is just there for the sake of "Hey, why is there only one alien?"

In short, why do you think Bishop would trust aliens/mutants enough to make them his bodyguards? Or is there more to it?

Hello!! Fellow Bishop stannie 🫵 Very glad to hear you're enjoying the AU!

I'll say that I do believe the majority of Bishop's force is human, moreso because he operates out of earth and humans are still the overwhelming majority there. Any unnamed guards (or maybe they'll get names too eventually?) can be assumed to be human. The four named guards are, in a meta sense, pre-existing OCs repurposed to fill out the background and make the world feel a bit more lived-in.

It's worth mentioning that Bishop does not feel the same about aliens that he did in his EPF days. That's the major reason EPF is gone, after all! He still won't trust any of them, but that's about on par with how he treats anyone: distant and distrustful, hidden under a veneer of politeness. The way I've always parsed it, Agent Bishop didn't see aliens as people, more demons, and then being rescued threw that entire belief out of wack. So now humans/Terrans and aliens are a bit closer to the same level, for him. He'll prioritize Earth's citizens, but that seems to include some extraterrestrial immigrants, too, nowadays.

So! Having said that, there's a few other elements that go into it. For one, frankly, it just looks good for Bishop to employ aliens from among PGA's allies. It's a show of trust-- not that he entirely does; vets them very thoroughly. For another, non-humans just have really handy abilities. This gives him more versatility in how he can choose to approach a problem, if one ever arises (he is, after all, a military commander at heart.) For example (since I doubt it'll ever come up,) Hambone has an elasticity that means she can absorb blunt force and fit through small spaces. Lyssis (who has not made an appearance yet I'm p sure, woops,) can absorb fire and elecricity. Stuff like that, yknow?

Anyway that's about the jist of it, I hope that's a satisfactory conclusion! Some of these characters also have more involved reasons for getting recruited, but since that gets into OC lore I'll leave it below the cut 👍

--Adelram

I think it should be fine to divulge a little lore since, again, background characters, probably won't come up too centrally. Hambone and Lyssis were mutated incidentally in an attack on PGA HQ back in 2080. Bishop publicly took it upon himself to rehabilitate the mutants involved, (who had been driven mad and violent by the strange mutagen,) handing them off to his personal scientists. He kept closely involved, hoping to find a lead to the source of the attack, and for this reason both mutants partly credit him for their recoveries and even being able to meet each other. They're loyal for this reason, and he knows it. They are also undoubtedly citizens of Earth.

Ritter is a bit more of a wacky story, one that won't really effect the plot. But their being an Utrom is not publicly known, as it happens. It's not a secret, per se, but they pass so well that most people assume they're human. They've been around since EPF, having served under Agent Bishop among its ranks. Bishop is aware they're an Utrom, and unfortunately they've proved very loyal and very useful, so he supposes he has to keep them around. It is pretty nice having a guard who doesn't need to sleep and only eats like once a month. This is also kinda the only life Ritter has ever really known, being under Bishop's command. They'd follow him anywhere, would do anything he asked of them.

[silvergeek]

For anyone in the USA:

Look guys, I need you to please not ignore this post.

https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/house-bill/6749/text

Please go to the link and contact your representative. Please ask them to vote to pass the house Menopause bill. Please. I'm begging you on a personal level.

Trying to get satisfactory medical treatment has been emotionally challenging. My GP, psychiatrist, and even my gynecologist, have extremely limited knowledge on how to treat perimenopausal and menopausal symptoms.

These symptoms are NOT just physical. They also affect women on a psychological/emotional level.

When estrogen decreases, so does serotonin, norepinephrine, dopamine, and even endorphins. My symptoms have included chronic insomnia, night sweats, hot flashes, dry/bleeding skin, hair loss, air hunger, sleep disordered breathing, heart palpitations, as well as sudden onset of anxiety and depression without any direct cause.

My doctors are **confounded** and it has been four years of not getting proper treatment. I have even dealt with some nasty, dismissive attitudes from doctors. Why? Because next to NO research exists to back up the very common symptoms I am bringing to them.

They need MORE training, across all specialist fields! Please pass this bill. We need more research and better training.

Please don't ignore this. Please scroll down and contact ypur rep and ask them to vote to pass the bill. I don't care if you hate your rep (I hate all of mine). Ask them anyway.

[opinated-user]

Catching up on stuff I missed and that whole debacle with Batman’s food just doesn’t make reasonable sense no matter what way you slice. Why do you need to show a receipt for buying cat food? Does this person not know what a receipt is for? It’s mainly for being eligible to return an item if it wasn’t satisfactory to your tastes, but you can’t just do that with food, because you have to have ruined the packaging in some way in order to use it. No store is going to take back a cereal box someone opened up because the cereal turned out to be stale. You keep receipts for shit like buying clothes in case the clothes might not fit, which is actually what happened to me a few weeks ago when buying new jeans so there’s an example right there.

And second, this has to assume that Courtney wouldn’t, you know, feed her cat, like she said she was going to. What kind of person would just intentionally starve their cat, if they weren’t already abusive to their pets? The fact that she considered pawning off her laptop, which is going to have long term consequences in any capacity, just to feed the poor guy shows she clearly was really to take the long term hit just so she doesn’t have to lose her cat.

And third, how the fuck does this relate to Lily using money that was supposed to go to Mikala (not sure if that’s spelled right) immigration fees to buy a new desk. This is a giant stretch to put those on the same levels of seriousness. I can reasonably understand that Courtney’s current situation could mean that she can use some of the money meant for cat food to buy other things, since I can reasonably assume that her Ko-fi was made for that purpose, and Courtney’s character means she would probably be upfront if that’s something that happened, and good on her for doing that anyways, she seems to be tight on money as is. Meanwhile, Lily committed actual fraud. I’m not sure if this could count as charity fraud, but even someone like me, with no law experience, clearly knows taking money meant for something big and spending it on something else is legally questionable.

THERE WAS AN ENTIRE CONTROVERSY LATELY WITH THE COMPLETIONIST HAVING DONE EXACTLY THAT, WHY DID NO ONE QUESTION THIS

Sorry if this is long-winded and redundant at this point, but I saw that whole thing when catching up on the LO drama and I just needed to vent my whole frustrations with that.

i have to thank you, anon, for putting everything i have felt about that particular situation so succinctly. after everything was said and done, i have a strong feeling that sparky was behind those messages. just like i'm almost sure that he was behind all the "apparently" messages that LO is getting with archived links of our posts. why? because that's exactly how he used to talk to me just to hear my response. the only times we talked at all was when he wanted to bring some new thing that LO had said or done. that without even bringing up he confessed to Brittany he just likes to stir the pot to see what happens. that's his way to try to sympathize with you, to show you that he is on your side. "i bring you all this stuff that you can use against the people you dislike, so that must mean that i'm good in your eyes, right? only a friendly person would do that!" nevermind that even back then, i'd find weird the frequency with which he did it because... sometimes he'd share completely innocent and small messages from LO and i'd have genuinely no idea of how to respond because they were completely useless to prove anything. that's the exact same thing he is doing with LO, but he has upgraded now to just completely lie or intentionally misrepresent everything to self that distorted version back to LO. LO's being played like a fiddle, just like he played all of us for a while until he revealed his true colors. i have no doubt in my mind that only an individual acting in bad faith would seriously try to take me trying to talk about LO scamming her audience, literally going out of their way to copy my words, spamming me with multiple messages even after i blocked their IP by using a VPN, as somehow Courtney being the one to scam everyone because she didn't show the receipts for cat food. but of course that LO only cares about having something, anything, against the sibling that is dennouncing her, so she won't bother to use reason, logic or even check if the allegations are true before just publish them for her audience to stick only with whatever she tells them. they already believe that a 6 year old can be blamed for the abuse perpetrated by an adult after all!

[misscrawfords]

Recently I made a new friend who I just instantly clicked with - proper "friendship at first sight" and I had her over for tea because I was so firm that I "needed to be friends with this person" and, y'know, making friends in your thirties is HARD. Anyway, I baked scones and brownies and she stayed over 5 hours and we had the BEST conversations.

Clearly we are kindred spirits because we talked mostly about relationships and it turns out we are very, very similar in our attitudes towards men and dating and, frankly, our bad habits in this area. It was like having a mirror thrown up. And you react differently to hearing someone else express your experiences (or similar ones) than how you react to your own experiences. It was very illuminating.

I'm really, really trying to change my patterns of pointlessly wasting literally years of my life pining over men who, for whatever reason, are unwilling to express any actual interest in me despite occasionally throwing me a crumb of something that might be platonic friendship (and often not even a very satisfactory version of that!) and might be romantic interest. It's hard in the modern world, where platonic friendships between men and women are possible. But I'm trying to change my behaviour and seeing what this lovely new friend was saying just absolutely reinforced this feeling that I absolutely cannot go through another non-relationship like this again. She's pining over a guy I know that she's very close friends with and, oh... who can say? It's just like the situations I've got myself into on multiple occasions. Right down to being in multiple group chats with him and constantly over-analysing how he texts and what he's saying to other women and wondering if she's special or whether he's also like this to others while he makes her feel so special because he confides in her. And like, SERIOUSLY. When you hear it coming from someone else, it sounds bonkers. I'm not saying I don't feel for her and see the way it's difficult to interpret... because I do, I empathise completely. But also, it is bonkers. A relationship shouldn't be this hard. I don't mean that you don't work at it, but it shouldn't take this much second guessing of people's actions and motivations. Two people who want to be together should... be together. It is so complicated. So, so complicated. But at the same time, as my A Level Greek teacher said to me back when I was 17, "If it's going to happen, it will happen" and if neither party makes a move and just continues with acceptance of a close platonic relationship that could be something else but never is, well, it's probably not going to happen. A man who truly wants to be with a woman and is mature enough to have an adult relationship (and I mean in every sense not necessarily sex because immature people can have sex) surely is going to make some kind of effort? Am I talking to her or me? I don't know.

Anyway, it was an illuminating afternoon! And I'm so glad I have a new friend!

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Twelve “Acceptance doesn't mean resignation; it means understanding that something is what it is and that there's got to be a way through it.”

Bucky settles into his prolonged captivity until his creator is ready to return to him, and finds out exactly what it means to obey without question. Prompts fulfilled; - ‘Fell Asleep Crying’ - @multifandom-flash (Dozen); - 'Everything Comes With a Price' - Winter Wonderland Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo); - ‘The End… Or Is It?’ - Multifandom Flash (Beehive); - ‘Begging’, ‘Handcuffed’ and ‘Punching Bag’ – @fandom-free-bingo (Frosty Edition). CW: Restraint, forced obedience, physical punishment, sexual slavery/non-con, self-induced vomiting, disassociation following trauma.

Check it out below or on AO3 here. Boards at the bottom. Please heed the CWs and consume responsibly.

Banner by @mmadeinheavenn! Very apt. <3

The days passed slowly in my new prison.

It was far comfier than my previous quarters, and I could exist in the space without losing feeling in my extremities. I was fed more sufficiently for my increased metabolism, and my body began to gradually hide the sharp angles of my bones once more.

There was no more random torture or tests of endurance, no pushing my mortality until it bent or I broke.

But everything comes with a price.

I was forced into backbreaking manual labour, lugging machinery and anonymous crates, and frequently used as a punching bag for any perceived slight, whether real or imaginary – not working quickly enough, not carrying enough, or for simply seeming ill-manner or ingrateful for their ‘generous hospitality’. For this, my hand would be bound behind my back and secured to a chain in the floor, holding me fast and limiting my capacity to fight back.

Not that I had the willpower anymore anyway.

No. I simply took the blows and returned to work when they directed that I do so, completing my task even as welts rose on my bare skin. All I could hope for at this point was that they eventually grew tired of punishing me for arbitrary reasons, and that I could spend my time here flying under the radar as much as possible.

I lived in a vague hope that this may be feasible right up until I was summoned by Lebedev, around a month after our last interaction.

Fierce trembles wracked my body as I entered his office, skulking silently past the two guards stood either side of the doorway. I coulnd’t help ut recall what had happened to me the last time I had been in the Lieutenant’s presence – the hand in my hair that forced me to my knees, humiliation making it hard to breathe as I stayed rooted to the spot, even when his touch lifted from my head to secure the heavy metal around my thoat.

I could only pray his intentions this time were less dehumanising, but the flow in his steel eues left me with little hope, his gaze flicking to the collar still secured around my neck.

“Kneel.”

This time I obeyed without hesitation, wincing at the heavy collision of bone and concrete that echoed around the space in my haste. He smirked, nodding approvingly, and moved to stand behind me. “Hand behind your back, Asset.”

My hesitation was minute, but my wrist was grasped and wrenched back without warning, shoulder creaking in protest at the violent motion, and I let out a soft hiss of discomfort, eliciting an amused snort.

“If only you’d learn to obey orders immediately, you may not have found yourself back here.” His voice was quiet as he secured a cuff tightly around my wrist, rotating my collar to anchor the restraint before stepping back once more. I was helplessly trussed up, only able to peer up at him pitifully as he stared down at me with a grin. “As it is… I hear you’ve been making a nuisance of yourself. Failing to complete orders in your allotted time, or failing to complete them to a satisfactory level.” With a quiet tut, he moved to stand before me, still wearing a predator’s smile, his fingers catching in my hair once more. “I suppose I’ll have to oversee your training myself.”

A dry lump formed in my throat, terror gripping my muscles tight and setting up an intense shiver throughout my entire body at the thought of what may yet be ahead of me. He moved closer, and my stomach seized as he reached for his belt.

No. God, no. Not that. Anything but that.

“Now… show me how obedient you can be. Suck my cock.”

Bile rose in my throat, and I looked up, meeting his eyes as I shook my head. “No.”

His hand found my cheekbone, and I groaned as my skin split under the blow, feeling the bone crack under the force.

“I wasn’t asking. You’ll suck my cock, or I’ll find somewhere else to put it.”

“Please. Please, I-I can’t… I don’t want-”

His thumb found the break in my bone, and he pressed firmly, making me yelp and recoil automatically, but a hand in my hair held me fast as I squirmed. “Get it over with, Asset, or it’ll be worse for you.”

Fuck. Please. No. Not this. Anything but this…

Breathing softly around my clenched teeth, I diverted my gaze as I pulled him from his slacks, squeezing my lids shut as I took him in my mouth lightly. He was already half-hard, stimulated by my fear and my trembling hands.

It was warmer than I thought it would be, sliding easily over my tongue and making me wince when he brushed my tonsils, recoiling automatically.

His fingers wrapped harder in my hair as he thrusted roughly, tutting. “No, no… You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be soft and gentle. You don’t deserve that. You deserve to choke on it,” he grunted, and I gagged briefly as he pushed against the back of my throat. “I hope you think about what happens when you disobey while I fuck that pretty mouth.”

Tears spilled from my clenched eyes as my dry lips split, and pain sparked in my cracked cheekbone. He let out a soft groan, and I wished I was anywhere else.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” I shook my head as best I could, fighting back a whimper as his length dragged over my tongue, and he hissed. “Oh, I bet you have… You’re trying not to, but I can feel you suckling at me. Desperate.”

No. That… That’s not true. I don’t want this. I hate this.

… Don’t I?

I know what I am, but…

But I don’t… want it. I don’t.

He grunted as his hips snapped up, my fingers curling instinctively where they rested against my back, and he chuckled roughly. “Oh, you like it like that, do you? You like it rough?” I shook my head again, but he flicked the bruising on my face firmly, hissing when my jaw clenched minutely through instinct. “Easy with the teeth, boy, or you won’t have any. Look at me.” Swallowing dryly, I forced my eyes open, locking with his and eliciting a quiet moan. “That’s it – see? You know how to obey orders… You watch me with those baby blues while you take it.” His hand fisted my hair tighter, holding my head still as he fucked me mercilessly, the feel of him grinding against my throat making my stomach turn. “That’s it, boy. Just like that.”

He released without warning, pushing himself deeper as I coughed and spluttered, his seed thick and choking, clinging to the inside of my throat. I tried to pull away but he simply snarled, forcing my head down, his eyes still locked on mine as they blew wide with pleasure and I was made to swallow.

Trembling and twitching, he eventually released me, leaving me to retch and gag, wishing more than anything I could be sick. He watched me in silence as he reassembled himself, letting out a quiet, horrifying chuckle as he undid the cuff restraining my wrist. “It’s not so bad. Now… Get out of here. I hope you have learnt your lesson.”

I stumbled to my feet obediently, shivering with shame and revulsion I entirely deserved. “Yes, Sir,” I muttered quietly, wrapping my arm about myself uncertainly.

“What do you say?”

I glanced back reluctantly, not quite meeting his gaze where he still stood buckling his belt, panting lightly.

“…Thank you, Sir.”

I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.

He nodded once, offering me a truly ominous grin. “We’ll teach you to obey soon enough, Asset.”

I stumbled back to my room – my cell, just with a prettier dressing – without escort, blinded by tears and still coughing on the cloying taste of him. The door locked automatically as it slammed behind me, and I staggered into the bathroom instinctively, hoping against hope that the motion of leaning over the toilet would be enough to trick my body into sickness.

When it wasn’t, I resorted to reaching into my own throat, recalling the bile that rose in my oesophagus when he buried himself against my uvula, the churning of my stomach, the-

Oh, God…

It doesn’t taste any better coming back up.

The taste and texture of the regurgitated seed was enough to encourage my stomach to continue emptying until I was retching fruitlessly, drool hanging from my lip and driving further dry-heaves until I managed to spit it away, trembling weakly. My body ached, throat and nose burning from stomach acid – but more than anything else, my heart was breaking, shattering under the force and dehumanisation of the assault.

That was the first time I was with another man.

That will always be the first time I was ever with another man.

Fear made my muscles contract automatically at the idea that this may not be the first of my firsts that he stole from me, and I whimpered under my breath as I headed to the shower, the break in my cheek aching from the force of my vomiting.

By the time I crawled into bed, my muscles tender and my head pounding, my mind had lapsed into numb silence. I still shook with unconscious disbelief and fear, but I couldn’t form a single coherent thought, too stunned and broken to be anything but empty. Tears still fell silently down my cheeks as I stared distantly at the wall, the sheets gathered around me, my emotional void allowing the exhaustion to take over my body.

This is it now, isn’t it?

This is the rest of my life.

This is what I am now.

He was right.

Bucky Barnes is dead.

I’m just… An Asset. A slave.

I’m only darkness.

[maridiayachtclub]

let's try documenting a big Satisfactory project!

so i have this facility called SPINE. it's a multi-function structure with a stupid (but cool) name. pics under the cut because they're big:

it's bad and it could stand to be renovated.

it was one of the first large facilities i built. it was conceived as a centrally located factory that would gather in resources from the surrounding area, use them to manufacture various fundamental parts like iron plates and screws and whatnot, and then funnel them outward to specialized factories. where possible, additional functions could be built within what felt at the time like a roomy interior, and the structure could be extended upward to make more factory space within.

in addition, it was built on legs, making space underneath for three purposes:

allowing tractors and other vehicles to pass through (at the time, i had an automated tractor running stuff back and forth between a few buildings, and anticipated having a fleet of little wheely friends going to and fro)

making space for ceiling-mounted conveyor belts that would not just move materials through the building but provide the means to deliver them up into the building's interior for processing

room for aminals to wander through :)

so, seeing as this was going to be the center of a general stream of many different products needed throughout my growing factory-city, it seemed analogous to a a spinal column. hence, SPINE, or rather, S.P.I.N.E. what do the letters stand for? i figured i'd think of an appropriate combination of words eventually, but i never did. the name nevertheless stuck

SPINE has been doing what i have asked of it for a while now. the inside chambers mostly look like this

anyway, as mentioned, this was made early on, and while i think the concept is sound, the implementation has ultimately proven insufficient. the space underneath ended up being too small for the variety of materials i require to move through, as well as all the necessary branches needed to move things back and forth between the transport space on the bottom and the factory spaces inside. here's what the underside looks like:

seriously it fuckin sucks down here bro

i can't just keep extending the conveyor lines further down from the ceiling; making enough space to move all these materials and move them up into the factory requires all sorts of stupid twisty turny conveyor belt tricks. the backside, where everything funnels in, is absolutely embarrassing. wizard-of-oz-man-behind-the-curtain bullshit. glasgow willy wonka experience-ass levels of fulfillment. slapdash mickey mouse duct tape effort. real "I didn't do my homework and now i gotta make up this presentation live in front of the class and they can see me sweating" energy embodied.

the horrid tangle running through SPINE is complicated by its output, set up so that it delivers things to my central storage barn. things need to leave the facility in a very specific way, like so:

this part, at least, works fine. this massive vein of conveyor belts is a bit ugly but it works very well. i put a lot of time into designing my central storage barn (there were spreadsheets involved) and it paid off. look at this shit, look at how neatly everything gets sorted into easily accessed bins

i love it. the power fantasy of living in an organized environment, realized here in digital form!

unfortunately the clean functionality of this building just draws into stark relief how bad SPINE is. even if I spruced up its exterior, fully finishing the walls and adding fripperies such as signage and doors and lights, its core functionality is insufficient for my needs. SPINE was conceptualized and built far in advance of my understanding of what i would actually need it to do and i can't stand it any longer! no more!

so, i'm planning to tear it all down and replace it with a bigger, better-organized SPINE. in addition to making it look nicer, it could actually be expandable without adding another strand into its already tangled guts. it would give me an opportunity to incorporate the functions of numerous smaller satellite facilities, cleaning up the surrounding landscape a bit and making room for other factories i know i will have to build in time. it would, potentially, allow me to incorporate a train station or two, so products could be picked up or delivered as needed... not something i need at this time, but even if i never do, having the capability of entertaining visiting trains is a worthy goal in itself.

anyway i haven't started on that yet. SPINE 2.0 is still in the planning stages, and i'm leaving on a trip in a day or so so i'm not gonna be able to start on this project in earnest for at least a week.

i might keep documenting the project here for funsies. i love Satisfactory; it's a perfect vehicle for one of my favorite things to do in a game: turning nothing into places. if you're in a video game and you see a bunch of hills and trees and rivers and piles of iron ore and other natural features, it doesn't really mean much on its own, but spend enough time there and you grow accustomed to it. you put together a mental map, figure out whatever routes you're going to be taking through it, learn how to navigate it quickly and efficiently, and soon that random bit of wilderness is a place. the rocks you have to navigate around and the rivers you have to jump over become familiar sights. and if it's a building kinda game, and you're populating this unsullied wilderness with the mortal profanity of civilization, that place is even more place-y than before. i very much like the places i have built in Satisfactory, so regardless of how this is received, it's fun to talk about it, get some of my internal thoughts on this project down in a format that can last. at least until tumblr shutters its doors and gets sold to some venture capitalist vultures in 2026