#pardon this is rather long and rambling

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Homestead.

Continuation of Home Intruder.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader x Yandere!Diluc (Genshin).

Title: 3.5k.

TW: Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, Obsessive Behavior, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Childe's Gone Full 'Fuck 'em Kids, and Continued Involvement Of A Child Of Dubious Origin.

You found Diluc in his chambers, sunken into a velvet-lined armchair, wrapping a length of white gauze around his split knuckles under the soft light of a low-burning candlestick. His shirt (or, rather, the tattered remains of what was once his shirt) had been discarded, along with his coat and his vest, of course, but the exposed skin no longer bothered you the way it once had, even if you still choose not to linger on the field of dark bruises blossoming along his left side.

You perched yourself on the foot of his bed – your bed too, you supposed, considering how often you found yourself sleeping at his side. Even when the threat was distant, when days lapsed between Childe’s ‘visits’, you found yourself gravitating towards him, seeking comfort in his warmth, his presence at your side. There was a reassurance that came with his company – a reassurance that you were reluctant to let go. “Another fruitful night, Master Darknight Hero?”

“Fruitful enough. The Abyss Order’s been minding their distance. The Fatui, as well – they’re stationing their encampments as far from the city’s walls as would be possible without retreating to Liyue.” You smiled, bowing your head, your satisfaction softened but no less apparent. Diluc didn’t overlook your silent mirth. “No sign of Tartaglia either,” he added, his gaze flickering from his tattered hands to you, then back to his idle work. “Not that I’m suggesting you should start taking midnight strolls through the forest. There’s a good chance he’s merely waiting for us to lower our guard.”

You doubted that. Childe was a hyper-violent, murderous bastard of a man, but he wasn’t the type to turn back on his convictions, and since his last attempt, he seemed determined not to take you by force. You couldn’t complain. If his newest delusion was that steadfast tenacity and a few promises of painless forgiveness would be enough to convince you to return to his frozen wasteland of a household, you were more than happy to let him believe it for as long as he cared to. “Maybe he’s decided his time would be better spent stalking another former captive,” you muttered. “I think I might feel a little betrayed if he moved on so easily.”

A raspy chuckle, followed shortly by an airy sigh. He let his eyes close, his head lull back, and with minimal hesitation, you rose from his bedside, fetching a misplaced comb before positioning yourself behind him. He spared you a questioning glance as you undid the already-loosened ribbon struggling to restrain his wild hair, but you only shrugged. “It helps Lina relax,” and then, beginning to pull your comb through the untamed sea of scarlet. “If you’ll pardon the comparison.”

“Pardoned.” The tension seemed to seep out of his rigid form as you pulled the knots out of his long, crimson hair – taking pains not to tug too harshly, not to let the strands you’d already detangled mix with those you had yet to touch. He spoke as you worked, rambling about his day, the state of the wine industry in Mondstadt, matters he was concerned with and matters he wished he didn’t have to be. “I mentioned our engagement at the tavern,” he said, eventually, the comment almost off-handed in its nonchalance. “Only a few drunkards were close enough to overhear it, but you know how they like to talk. It’ll be common knowledge by the time the sun rises.”

You felt something sharp begin to rise into your throat. “…our engagement?”

“That’s usually what comes with having a fiancé, yes.” His tone was not one of levity, but did he sound quite as serious as you felt he should’ve been. As if this was just a part of some scheme the two of you had planned together, in which your compliance was given. “Unless there’s another word you’d like to use? Betrothment, maybe?”

“No, engagement is fine, it’s just—” It was difficult to find the words. You didn’t want to be engaged. You didn’t want a fiancé. You didn’t know how to tell Diluc that you did not want to act as if you did, even if it was just a ploy. “Childe didn’t believe us. Even if he did, it probably wouldn’t do much to stop him.”

“But, it might give his soldiers pause. The other Harbingers, too, if he finds a reason to drag them into this.” You lost focus, catching your comb on a lock of hair still partially braided from the day before, but Diluc didn’t flinch, didn’t seem to notice. “It’d be… convenient to have a more official bond between us, too. A titled relationship can do a great deal.”

It did not escape you that he declined to mention who a titled relationship could do a great deal for.

You forced yourself to smile past your inhibition. “I’ve never really seen myself as the marrying type.”

A slight chuckle, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked over his shoulder. “You’d take advantage of a lovesick fool, then?”

“Without hesitation.” You leaned down, pressing a quick kiss into the top of his head before turning on your heel, starting towards the door. “Take a bath before Adelinde sees what you’re doing to her furniture. I’m going to check on Lina one more time, just to make sure she’s sleeping through the night.”

“Should I warm the bed for you?”

You hummed, nodding as you slipped out of his chambers, but for the first time in many nights, you found yourself colder by his side than you had been apart from him.

~

You were in the library, pouring over a travel guide concerning the few parts of Teyvat you’d neglected during your previous travels, when you received news that Childe and his legion were returning to his posting in Liyue. The sound you made by way of response – half pitching laughter, half irrational screaming – must’ve scared the poor butler half to death, but you didn’t have time to apologize before your body was moving on its own, rushing past him and deeper into the mansion. By the time you realized what you were doing, you were already in Diluc’s office, already throwing yourself at his desk.

“He’s gone.” You were grinning like a madman. “He’s gone, Diluc! I can— Okay, first, I’m going to go see if my landlord ever repossessed my flat, and then, I’m going to take Lina apple-picking in Springville, but not before I get back to the market and finally pay back the mora I borrowed from—”

“Have you contacted any witnesses in Liyue to confirm his arrival?”

Your smile faltered. “He would’ve only left today. There’s no way he could’ve arrived much of anywhere yet, and even if he had, I… I don’t think I know anyone in Liyue to contact.”

“There’s no proof, then.” Said with a sort of tempered stoicism, as if he were attempting to gently guide a very mislead soul away from a dire mistake without losing his own composure. He put down his quill, and with a heavy sigh, looked up at you, his eyes as soft as his tone. “I wouldn’t put it below him, considering what lengths he’s willing to resort to.”

He spoke as if he knew Childe; as if he shared your vendetta, stroke for stroke. Part of you wanted to allow him to pretend, to let someone beyond you and a child too young to fully understand the horror she was facing share in your misery, if only in kind words and appearances. Part of you wanted to carve his tongue from his mouth and leave him to bleed. “Childe’s not that kind of man. He wouldn’t do something so underhanded.”

“Most people wouldn’t consider kidnapping a reasonable course of action, either, yet he’s already demonstrated his tolerance for that.” A hint of levity, the ghost of a sympathetic smile. “It’d be safer for you to remain in the manor, for the time being.”

Two things to you occurred in very short order.

The first was, of course, how familiar your frustration felt. It was the same little irk that’d coiled in your chest when you were with Childe, when months and months of playing dutiful, docile captive failed to earn you the freedoms he’d promised it would. You knew, rationally, that one circumstance was not like the other, that there was no reason to hold the two so close in your chest, and yet, the feeling remained.

The second was that you didn’t recall telling Diluc that you had been kidnapped. Kept hostage, sure, broken down and forced to build yourself up, but not kidnapped. That - the first days you’d spent in Childe’s damp cellar, confused and terrified and utterly helpless to do anything but bite at his fingertips and fight against your restraints - was not something he was meant to know.

You paused for a long moment, your lips parted but your tongue useless. Diluc let his head lull to the side, bringing up a hand to cup your face. “I promise, it’s for your safety.” The pad of his thumb ran over your cheek. “You know that I’ve grown fond of you, don’t you?”

“As I have, of you.”

“And you know that it would hurt me, to see you walk into a trap when this is so nearly over?”

“I suppose it would.”

“So trust me. This is the last time I’ll ask you to put aside your freedom.” You believed that this was the last time he would ask, surely. “For Lina’s sake, if not your own.”

You forced yourself to swallow. “If I tried to walk through the doors to your manor with Lina in my arms and no intention or returning, would you let me leave?”

His eyes were so terribly soft. “Surely, my fiancé would be smart enough to answer that for themself.”

You grit your teeth, locking your jaw into place. “And you promise that you’ll keep us safe, in exchange for my captivity?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t use that kind of language,” he sighed. “But, yes. As safe as treasured gems and as comfortable as royalty.”

You held out for a moment, and then, allowed your eyes to fall shut, letting out a deep exhale. “That’s all I want. For Lina and I to be safe.” You melted into his warmth, nuzzling into his palm. “Thank you, Master Diluc.”

That may have been the widest you’d ever seen him smile. “The pleasure is mine, dear.”

~

Your letter contained five words and five words exactly – ‘I want to go home’. You left it unsigned, addressed it to one of the Northern Bank’s secondary locations on the outskirts of Liyue, and passed it off to the messenger who came weekly to collect the Winery’s mail personally. His response came the next day, in the form of a note bound to the leg of a raven, its feathers wet from flying through the storms that claimed Mondstadt’s skies so often in the summer.

‘Finally.’

He arrived two nights later, accompanied by no soldiers or subordinates. You caught him among the rolling hills, his coat blending with the grey sky, but did not dare to leave the manor until nightfall, when you could gather Lina in your arms and take to wandering through the mansion under the guise of soothing her most recent fit. You slipped out of a ground-story window left unlocked with little difficulty, barefoot and with nothing but your Vision at your side. You did not have the luxury of preparation, as you had with Childe. Anything you might’ve taken, you would’ve taken from DIluc, and you couldn’t give him an excuse to hunt you down.

You didn’t have to look for Childe. He was waiting for you on the beach, where the road to Stone Gate first met the bay. You saw his smile, first, brilliant and fanged, then his eyes, catching in the moonlight, fixating on you before falling to Lina, slumped against your chest. Against your better instincts, you set her down, leaning her against an apple tree. You doubted she would wake up, but if she did, the fluttering leaves and fallen fruit would distract her before she could notice the water.

With little delay, you returned to Childe. He waited for you to face him with an uncharacteristic patience. “You’re bringing her along?”

“You may have outgrown Lina, but she’s still my daughter.” You attempted to hold yourself straight and retain as much pride as possible, but you cracked soon enough, bowing your head and shrinking into a meeker, much less resilient creature. “You were right about him. He’s just as bad as you are, and if I am to be at the mercy of a monster, I’d rather it be the monster brave enough to speak its threats aloud.”

He took a step toward you, closing what little distance you’d attempted to maintain. “You’ve chosen such touching words for our reunion.” You had to fight not to tremble as his hand came to rest on your hip, then skating upward, towards the curve of your side. “We’ll have to tame that clever tongue of yours as soon as we get back to Liyue, but the rest might have to wait until Snezhnaya. I've already asked the Tsaritsa for leave. I just know you’re going to need my full attention, sweetheart.”

You could feel the rain picking up again, weighing down your clothes, turning Childe’s coat a shade darker. You pretended not to notice, not to care. “…and Lina will be safe?”

“Safe enough, at whatever boarding school she ends up in.” He spoke casually, as if he didn’t care at all for the girl he’d been willing to kill for only weeks ago. “As long as you stay where you’re supposed to be, no harm will come to her by my hand.”

He made no promises concerning the hands and weapons of those operating under his command.

“That’s all I want,” you sighed, and then, raising your voice to speak above the pounding rain, the thunder rolling in the distance, “I… I just want her to have a home, even if that home must be yours.”

You buried your face in his chest, and he cooed, his free hand slipping underneath you chin, coaxing your head back until you were forced to stare into his eyes, as deep as the abyss, as empty as the starless sky. You balled his drenched coat in your fists as his lips came to rest against yours, the kiss gentle save for the grin that laid beneath it, as sharp as a blade and twice as fatal.

You could only be thankful that this blade’s wielder was such a fool.

It was a flash frost; a single wave of cryo energy strong enough to freeze the raindrops that surrounded him mid-air. In the blink of an eye, his body was encased in ice – the shell fragile, but strong enough to render Childe immobile as you wrenched yourself away from him, your composure faltering into a collection of muffled screams and frantic breaths. You wasted precious seconds wiping the frost from your hands and tearing the heavy coin purse from his belt before adding another layer of ice, binding his feet to the ground and his hands to his chest, ensuring that he would not be able to break free until your handiwork began to melt. You started to turn away, to return to Lina, but hesitated at the last moment. With shaking hands and grit teeth, you unhooked the gem of his Vision from its holder, and with all of your meager strength, threw it into the bay, praying that the current would not be able to carry it back to shore.

With only a deep inhale and another second taken to gather yourself, you gathered Lina in your arms, fled into the wilderness, and didn’t dare to look back until Childe and the Dawn Winery were both out of sight.

~

Liyue was where it would’ve made the least sense for you to go, so that was where you went. You treated main roads like necessary evils, stopping by the carts of travelling merchants and staying in roadside inns only when the wilderness proved too hostile for Lina. You were frugal with Childe’s mora, but no more so than any weary traveler would’ve been with their limited supplies. Paranoia drew attention, and attention had only ever served to make your life more difficult.

You journeyed to Liyue Harbor, remaining as close to the ports as possible. After securing a board room with an elderly couple content to fawn over Lina, you fell back into your own habits – lingering in the shadowed corners of the darkest taverns, nursing their cheapest liquor while you spoke at length on your plans to venture to Sumeru, then beyond, wherever Teyvat would have you. When you spotted soldiers with grey coats, you spoke a little louder.

You crossed paths with a captain with a missing eye and a white-haired companion, telling tales of all the many storms and sea monsters her crew had bested and brandishing a fearsome claymore. For the first time, you told someone of your true intentions, let your genuine excitement seep through when she mentioned there may be a vacant bunk on her ship when she next left the harbor. When you told her of your young daughter, she laughed and said that a little young blood might help to liven up the voyage. When she asked what you were so eager to get away from, you smiled and told her that you had monsters of your own.

Lina took her first unassisted steps aboard the Crux, spoke her first word; ‘sea’, due to the influence of the sailors who coddled her. You almost mourned having to leave the vessel behind by the time you docked in Inazuma, but you had come too far to let yourself be swayed so easily. You had always been the type to seek shelter, and you would not betray yourself simply because you had been betrayed.

Although you were reluctant to leave Lina in the care of another for any longer than a few hours, you trusted Beidou, and the reassurance that you would not have to leave her side again did much to soothe your nerves. Escaping Ritou without the proper documentation was child’s play, as was making your way to Inazuma City, or more specifically, the Tenshukaku – high and mighty where it sat above the rest of the city, a fortress of stone and steel painted with blushing sakura petals and violet banners. You were no spy, but you did what you could to stow yourself away inside of it, to remain unseen as you slipped into the gaps between the Shogunates’ constantly revolving patrols, as you stowed yourself away in the shadows of the Shogun’s grand hall. You waited until she had seen her guests, her commissioners, her generals, until she had sent her guards away and claimed meditation as her excuse. You waited until she summoned you, as you knew she would. You hadn't grown so bold as to think you could escape an archon's perception, but you did consider yourself fortunate that her first reaction had not been to strike you down.

“Come out, little bird,” she called, once you were the only mortal soul left in her company. You abided, stepping out from your hiding place and into the center of her hall, where she could evaluate you from her dais freely. “What an obedient assassin,” She clicked her tongue, as if just coming out of deep thought. “Tell me, did you plan to end my life from such a distance, or were you simply going to wait for me to die of old age?”

“I’m no assassin, Your Eminence,” you said, with a shallow bow. You must’ve been an unsettling sight – sea-worn and ragged, weak from your exertions but too stiff to tremble under her gaze. “I merely come to offer you my services.” You paused, raising your heel and taping it once against the matted floor. In a matter of seconds, each and every inch had been covered by a solid layer of frost – perfectly reflective and perfectly unmarred until you took a step forward, the ice splintering and creeping to either side underneath the soles of your feet. “I am well-traveled, and have found myself in possession of a great deal of knowledge concerning Snezhnayan politics and Mondstadt’s commercial trade and customs. You’ll find that I’m not lacking for insights into the ongoings of any other nation, either.”

She hummed. “And what do you ask for in return?”

“Only your protection, your trust, and your assurance that my daughter will grow up happy and safe on your islands.” You pressed your tongue into the roof of your mouth, squaring your shoulders. “All things the almighty Raiden Shogun is capable of providing, I’m sure.”

Her answer was delayed, but you caught something in her eyes – a bright flicker of curiosity, of interest. Interest, and nothing else. For that, you would be eternally thankful. You would’ve fled that very moment, if there had been.  

You had grown so, so very tired of living on the whims of powerful men, after all.

It was long past time you gave a powerful goddess a try.

[minniesmutt]

𝔇𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢: 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

♱ ━━━ PAIRING: NONE ♱ ━━━ CW: MENTIONS OF WAR, ALCOHOL, IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULTS, MENTION OF PROSTITUTES, DEBT, DEATH MENTIONS, BLOOD, BITING, ♱ ━━━ WC: 2.3K

     He didn’t care. Never did. Not about his kingdom. His wife, his children. Nothing. Truly only cared about power. Y/n knew that from far too young of an age. 

     Until her seventeenth birthday, she was the only daughter born to the King. A pawn to gain more power once she hit eighteen. Destined to be married off to the highest bidder from another kingdom. But war came about. 

     Her brothers were the ones who fought in it while she was sitting at home. Her father— the king who was supposed to lead his kingdom’s army— sat at home while his sons risked their lives and he used the castle maids for his desires. Even though he was on his fourth with, her mother.

     When news arrived of her brother’s had passed and the enemy was coming towards them with plans to take his head, he couldn’t have that. He enlisted outside help. Promising to pay them back in due time. 

     That was five years ago. Y/n’s mother passed away two years after the war ended and her father hadn’t bothered to remarry, obviously content with using the staff. He wasn’t much of a king anymore. He remained drunk all day and used the maids and the town prostitutes. He hadn’t ruled in a long time. The role had unofficially fallen on Y/n. Most of the staff respected her much more. Advisors tried their best to help her but it all just seemed like they were talking down to her and using her to get their chance at the thrown—some more… forceful than others.

     Her brother’s death was the downfall of it all. One of them should have taken over the kingdom. But there weren’t any options in the wake of their death but her. But it was putting unimaginable stress on her. All the voices in her ear told her a multitude of things while she tried to fix the kingdom her father left broken.

     Y/n never knew who her father employed to help them win the war nor what debt he owed them. Rumors around the town, soldiers telling stories of the bloodshed you’d only hear in stories. Some say her crazy power-hungry father employed a clan of vampires to slaughter his enemies. And he had yet to pay them back.

     She didn’t fully believe it until one of the maids ran into her room as she was getting ready for bed one night.

     “You’re Highness!” The maid panted out as she pushed the doors open, “Pardon my intrusion.”     “What’s the matter?” Y/n asked as she stood from her vanity.

     “We have some, unhappy guests in the thrown room. I fear the king may be in danger. They are open for a discussion but the king, he’s…”

     “Far too drunk off his ass to hold a conversation so you ran to me,” Y/n finished her sentence as she slipped her night robe on, heading to the throne room in question, the maid following behind her.

     The door was still wide open. She could hear her father's drunk rambling from down the hall. She turned the corner just to see three men she was unfamiliar with. Two turned to her as she entered while the third had his hand wrapped around her father's throat. His advisors quivered on the ground, apologizing profusely and begging for his and their lives to be spared. All the while the king laughed and threw meaningless threats at the young man choking him against his thrown, at least he was trying to. Rather hard to talk with a hand around your throat. 

     “What’s going on?” Y/n asked, more confused than scared

     “Who are you?” The more built of the two off to the side asked. 

     “The princess of this kingdom. Who are you?” Y/n asked

     “Forgive our late intrusion, your highness.” His tone changed rather quickly when she mentioned she was the princess. He walked to stand in front of her before getting on one knee and taking one of her hands in his. He kissed her knuckles before rising again.

     “Pardon my rudeness, but you still have not told me your name.”

     “Apologies. My name is Bang Chan. Clan leader of the vampires you’re father hired to fight your war.” 

     She thought the rumors were simply just rumors. But with the man standing in front of her as living proof, she had no choice but to believe them now. “May I ask what this late-night visit is for?”

     “Your father has been refusing to pay his debts. We understood for a few years with the loss of his sons and wife and you’re kingdom’s economy. But it’s been growing, yet he still hasn’t paid anything.” Chan explained, “We came to discuss the issue peacefully but it seems that word is not in his vocabulary.”

     “It certainly is not.” Y/n sighed.

     The comment made the three vampires raise an eyebrow before she continued further

     “Our economy has grown better, but it is not due to him. He lays in his room or on the throne all day as a blabbering fool. I’m the one who has been serving as the kingdom’s leader since my mother’s passing three years ago. If I had known about any of the debt we owed then I would have delegated a system to make sure we paid it off. No one made me aware,” Y/n glanced at the advisors on the ground.

     Chan followed her gaze before looking back at the throne. The second vampire still held onto her father’s throat as he weakly threw punches. Chan looked back at her.

     “A debt is still owed. Whether it’s money or blood.”

     A pained moan came from the king. Y/n spared him a glance. Whether they would just take his life or the whole kingdom’s. The latter was far more important to her.

     “May I propose a deal?” She asked

     “Depends. What are you proposing, your highness?” Chan asked, very curious

     “Take me back and leave my kingdom alone. I’ll solely take on the debt. I can delegate people here to pay off my father’s debt to you while I'm there as a form of collateral.”

     Chan seemed taken aback by the offer. “Do you understand the implications?”

      Not fully could she guess what she was getting herself into. But it was a simple chance to get them to leave her kingdom alone for some time. Allow them to get back on their feet and pay off the debt in hopes of getting their princess back. Or give time for her father to finally keel over and the land fall directly to her and allow the vampire clan to rule over them instead. 

     “I can assume them. As long as my kingdom is safe, I do not care what happens to me.”

     The room was silent for a moment. No one dared speak. 

     “Let him go Minho,” Chan stated before the vampire holding her father dropped him. “Make your preparations. We will be back tomorrow night.”

     Y/n nodded as the three made their departure. That’s when the chaos from the advisors erupted 

     “Princess, you can’t leave the kingdom unattended!”

     “We can’t possibly pay back the debt!”

     “We’ll be attacked from all sides with you gone!”

     “You should have thought of this before you evaded paying them back. You knew the monsters you were dealing with yet not a single one of you informed me of it. I could have let them take his head instead. Is that what you would have preferred?”

     “No, you’re Highness.” Each of them bowed out of respect 

     “I will deal with this matter in the morning.” Y/n sighed before turning and walking out of the room. The maid who alerted her of the situation followed silently. 

     “Are you sure about this, my lady? I don’t mean to question your judgment but—“

     “If it keeps them away from the kingdom, yes,” Y/n replied. 

     She finished her nightly routine before getting into bed. The matters were things to deal with in the morning. 

     And she did. She delegated work to advisors based on their strengths, a few maids packed her belongings for her and she managed to send a few guards out to spread the news. Some reported back shock and promises of working twice as hard to bring her back sooner. 

     The local Churches weren’t all too pleased with the news. A few priests made the trip to the castle to protest to her but their words did not sway her. Rather she sent them back home and opted to station her guards along the road so none of them would ambush the vampires. 

    Most preparations were finished by sundown. Y/n ate her final meal in the castle before having some time to herself. However, it didn’t last long until the guards announced the vampire's arrival. 

     Y/n met them in the foyer, castle staff lined up to see her off. It was only two of the vampires from last night. Chan and the one he had stood next to. Minho nowhere in sight. 

     The staff bowed as she descended the staircase towards the two vampires. Taking note her father was nowhere in sight. Typical. 

     “Have you finished your preparations, your highness?” Chan asked as she came to stand in front of them. 

     “Yes.” She nodded.

     The maids loaded her bags onto their carriage before the two vampires helped the princess inside. Both sitting opposite her when they got inside. Chan knocked on the carriage to tell the driver to start moving. Once out of the castle walls and into the nearby town, you could hear the townspeople yelling. 

     “Not all too happy about your departure?” Chan asked

     “We have only been able to recover from the war because of me. My father’s been a drunk since before then. Simply sits around drinking and using the maids.” Y/n sighed

     “Uses?” Both men looked at her as she cast her gaze out the small window

     “Sexual pleasure. Uses his status as king to do so. His advisors are no better.” Y/n explained

     “Maybe you should have let Minho kill them last night,” the blond stated

     “Felix,” Chan sighed as they made it out of the castle town. Many subjects shouting but it was all muffled by the walls. 

     The journey back to the vampires was a bit long. It was also night which provided a lovely view of the land basked in moonlight. 

     Chan and Felix did explain a few things to her about her stay with them. Warned her there would be eight vampires in total. That news did shock her but the two reassured her that each and every one of them was respectful. 

      “There are other humans in the castle as well. Though they are just saff.” Felix added, hoping she’d find some solace in that fact

     “And you are no prisoner. You are free to roam the castle and if you wish to go into the surrounding town, one of us or a staff member can accompany you.” Chan stated

     “Thank you. I fully expected to be locked up in a room and used as feed,” Y/n stated

     “That is a matter we were getting to,” Chan sighed

     There were people in the surrounding town who did offer their blood to the vampires, but there were a few who did like the idea of a live-in feeder. And if there was a dire situation they had someone to feed from without causing their staff too much trouble. Of course, it wouldn’t be an all the time thing and none of them would drain her. 

    “Does it hurt?” Y/n asked

    “Not necessarily. Some points on the body are more painful than others.” Chan explained.

     “If it’s not too much to ask, could I… feel what it would be like?”

     Both men looked at each other before Felix moved to ain't next to her. 

     “Felix is the gentlest out of all of us,” Chan stated 

     “Where are you comfortable?” Felix asked, offering his hand to her for comfort. 

     “Wherever it would hurt the least is preferred.” Y/n placed her hand in his.

     Felix nodded and turned her towards him more, moving her hair off her neck. “Relax,” Felix leaned in, warm breath fanning her neck

     Y/n nodded and took a breath. The next moment she felt a pinch on her skin as his fangs sunk into her. It wasn't super painful, more irritating than anything. She squeezed his hand in reflex. After a moment the pain dulled and a sense of pleasure replaced before Felix pulled away, licking the wound before pulling away. 

     “Well?” Chan questioned

     “Not terrible. Though I do feel tired,” Y/n said

     Both men chuckled before Felix adjusted them so she could lay comfortably while Chan draped his coat over her. “It’s normal for some tiredness after you’ve been fed from. Rest. We should arrive before you wake.” Chan said as she laid on Felix. 

     She slightly didn't trust the two but her tiredness outweighed her distrust. She easily fell asleep against the smaller vampire. The rocking of the carriage itself was also calming. 

     By the time she woke, Chan was carrying her up a flight of stairs. Groaning as her eyes adjusted to the light. 

     “Welcome back princess,” Chan said as he glanced down at her. 

     “How long was I asleep for?” She asked

     “A good few hours. I was sure you would sleep till morning.”

     “Hm. Been some time since I've had a decent rest.”

     Chan hummed in response before opening a door and walking inside. He laid her down in the bed, it was soft, much similar to her own. “I’ll have a maid come and help you change and check the bite mark. We’ll give you the night to settle before you meet the rest of us.”

     “Thank you,” Y/n offered him a sleepy smile. 

     Chan returned the smile and kissed her forehead before leaving the room. 

♱ ━━━ SERIES M.LIST NEXT

♱ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

♱ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[yuuzuforia]

dan heng dan heng dan heng—nothing in the brain but the damn guy that has male living space in the fucking archives!! nothing in the brain but his cold dragon young ass crushing on you!!

dan heng that probably knows you like that back of his hand, i shit you NOT he knows what you like, what you don’t like—the moment you start talking about it, he’s memorized it and stored it in his brain. flowers? he knows exactly what kind and what color. food? he knows what you like and find disgusting.

dan heng who is kinda (he hates to admit it) enjoys the attention you give him. he ain’t slick with that way he’s hiding that blush when you tell him “that’s so interesting! you gotta tell me more!” even when he pardons himself because he catches himself rambling, and you urge him to continue?? fuck, he’s floored.

dan heng who enjoys small acts of skinship. especially when he likes you, alot. the gentle tug of his hand when you both are in belabog as you both navigate through the streets to find a place to sit down. or his steady hold on your hand as you make the warps/jumps in the astral express traveling. if he knows you get scared easily, he’ll let you hold his hand throughout the wrap until you let go. you once gave him a pat on the shoulder with a big smile and saying “nice one, dan heng!” and he never forgot how happy he felt after that. the praise made him happy for the whole day it was obvious.

i am a firm believer of pinky linking with dan heng idc what you tell me. PINKY LINKING WITH DAN HENG.

dan heng, who is jealous! especially when other people show clear cut interest in you as a partner. he’s slightly pouty and grumbles but only in private ;> he’d rather get swallowed by the earth than telling you he feels…jealous because he wants your gaze on him, just him.

dan heng who is, despite it all, terrified of telling you how he feels :( his past, his burdens and worries—all of it goes away when you’re both together but how long could that last? and the idea of you…being bothered by his worries and past scares him. he knows he wants to trust you but he is scared. scared that, once you find out—things will never be the same and that everything would be terrifyingly different and that the trust you developed in him would be broken. one day, he’ll tell you all about it but for now—he wishes to enjoy the innocent smile free from the troubles he’ll face.

—after all, all of this is going to be future dan heng’s problem ( ´∀｀) not his!

[crazylittlejester]

Sooo, I know that you are technically the “Wars expert”, but you are really good at predicting things that will happen the LU comics.

I keep thinking that Twilight is getting more and more fed up with everyone treating him like he’s made of glass. What do you think, how long will it take until he snaps at someone for being overprotective? And who will it be? ( my guess is that it’ll be either Wars or Time and that it won’t be long 😉)

okay pardon the fact that my brain is soup rn my head is pounding lmao, none of this is gonna be coherent and most of it is off topic rambling i dont think a word of this makes sense-

I don’t really think the others are treating Twi like glass, at least not now

so in my mind i separate the group a bit into “kids” (wind, four, hyrule, legend, wild) and “adults” (time, wars, twi, sky). Now I think the only thing canonically established in LU is that Wind is the youngest and Time is the oldest, so the rest of the group hierarchy can go literally whichever way you interpret it, but I definitely think of Wars and Twi as pretty close up there to Time in regards to how much “power” (for lack of a better word-) they have within the group. They’re the only two who feel like they have the power to “talk back” (again for lack of better words) to Time in a way where Time might actually LISTEN. I feel like it’s not that the others are treating Twilight like glass, they’re worried about him because he almost died, but they have faith in him. But Time on the other hand has to look at Twilight and see his own future with Malon and all that, and based off the conversation in “Malon 5” it seems like Time might feel at least a little bit responsible for keeping Twilight safe and uninjured. But despite this I think that hasn’t impacted his view of Twilight’s capabilities, like yes he might keep more of an eye out for him, but he knows Twilight can handle himself

The new added element to this whole situation is Warriors and “Wild’s” dungeon inexperience. Because now Time, unofficial official leader, has his two “second” in commands as “Guy who has never stepped foot in a dungeon before in his life” and “Descendant who almost died”, and as we’ve seen he’s been really stressed lately and this is just adding to it. Which, yeah, I would be stressed too 😭

My theory isn’t necessarily that Twi is going to snap because he’s being babied, but rather if we DO see him getting snappy at people (Time) it’s going to be because of how strict he’s getting

That being said I have theories about the breakdowns of the groups, and I’m not sure I see a scenario in which Twi, Time, and Wars would be in the same group. MAYBE two of them, but I can’t imagine all three of them would be in the same spot. If they are tho, that’s be hilarious and the fucking DRAMA- oh my god

I think if Warriors WASN’T with Time, he’d be with either Twi or Legend, but not both, and I think the third person could be Wind. If I were the one building these groups, I’d make it Wars, Legend, and Wind

If Time WASN’T with Twi, he’d be with Wars, and if not Wars then I think Four and/or Hyrule. High Stress Adult + two experienced but very chill “kids”. They’d have their differences in how they do things, but I think those three would work well together. But if Jojo’s feeling evil I think Time, Wild, and Legend would be an EXPLOSIVE group of clashing personalities and all three of them would argue the entire time because they’re all very stubborn. I think poor Wild would really get the short end of the stick in that scenario-

I predict, if these groups are gonna be 3 groups of 3 and the goal is to create well balanced teams:

Twilight, Sky, and Wild would be a POWERHOUSE: two adults + one “kid” with ‘half’ dungeon experience. They’d get along well, they’d work well together

Time, Four, and Hyrule: Again, High Stress Adult + two quieter “kids”, but I really think Hyrule and Four would work well together, and they’d balance out Time’s stress with their goofy little guy-ness

Wars, Legend, and Wind: It’s giving a mom taking her two kids to indulge in their hyperfixation she knows nothing about. Wind and Legend are totally capable in a dungeon, and they both have a good dynamic with Wars that could be very entertaining and funny, and definitely just enjoyable to witness

but the evil voices in me want the groups to be Wars/Time/Twi, Legend/Hyrule/Wild, Sky/Four/Wind, because I’m just imagining Drama Queens (crying, screaming, emotions involved), Triple Threat (pure crack), and The People Actually Getting Shit Done, and that would be so epic

aight thats all i got

*falls over and dies*

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

A Slice of Life

[A Financial Office, Minato City, 12:39pm]

Advisor: Alright, that should be about everything...

*Two figures sit in the office of a financial advisor agency; a space cluttered with stacks of paper and a few framed certificates on the wall. A worn desk separated her from the Financial Advisor himself, a man in his late fifties. His glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reviews the paperwork spread out before him.

Financial Advisor: So, Mrs. Tendo, it looks like you’re in a pretty good spot. You’ve been contributing steadily to your pension for years, and between that and your savings, you should have a comfortable cushion...Um...

*SNOOOOREE...*

Advisor: Um...Mrs...Tendo?

*SNOOOOOREE...*

Advisor: Mrs. Tendo!

*POP!*

Bah...!?

*The middle-aged woman sitting opposite him lazes back in her seat, having somehow entered a deep sleep at some point through the conversation. The Advisors probing wakes her up, and she rubs her eyes.

Ah...sorry...I've been losing sleep these last few nights...

Advisor: That's a shame...Were you perhaps worried about our meeting today?

Not really...It's just part of life, and I'm getting old...

Advisor: Would you...like me to repeat what I said?

No. I still heard you. You said that between my contributions and my savings, I should have a comfortable cushion...Right?

Advisor: Um...yes...but how did you-?

Comfortable. That's the word everyone uses...the goal they all assume we should strive for. But I wonder what comfort really means?

Is it just about having enough money to get by? Or is it something more, like finding a way to fill the empty hours?

Advisor: Um...Mrs. Tendo?

Ah, never mind...Like I said, I'm getting old. I'm rambling like a moron.

In any case, that's good to hear. I’ve always been a saver. My husband used to joke that I’d hide pennies under the mattress if I could.

Advisor: Well, that’s paid off. You’ve got enough to start thinking about your next chapter, whether that’s traveling or just enjoying some hobbies without worrying too much.

Hm...

You know...I’ve been thinking a lot about what comes next...I mean, I'm happy for retirement and all, but...I feel like I've not got much else to do these days.

Advisor: Pardon for the personal questions, ma'am, but...do you have any family? Maybe you could spend time with them?

Nope. I used to live with my husband and my daughter...I lost both of them during the Tragedy.

Advisor: I see...My apologies, ma'am.

Psh...Don't worry about it, it's not like YOU killed 'em...

Advisor: Well, I suppose it was rather cathartic for you then when the perpetrator for the Tragedy was brought to justice.

...Why would that be?

Advisor: Huh? W-Well...

You heard about what happened up in Hiroshima not too long ago, right? That factory explosion?

Advisor: Yes, I did.

Well, rumor has it that that explosion was part of a bigger conspiracy, which is why the Future Foundation actively involved themselves in suppressing tensions. And many are saying that Junko Enoshima is back, thanks to some leaked info from inside.

Advisor: Um...

Not to mention the fact that Izuru Kamukura and Mukuro Ikusaba, and everyone else who helped Enoshima, are still out there...It's hard to be totally at peace with all these rumors...

I mean, I don't know whether to believe 'em or not, but...it doesn't do my heart any good.

Advisor: I see what you mean. But unfortunately, I'm not the right person to help dispel your beliefs or worries. You'll need a different kind of consultant for that.

Right...

My original point was...after all these years of routine, it’s hard to imagine starting fresh, you know? I’ve always been the one holding things together, keeping the house running, looking after everyone else.

Now that it’s just me, it’s…different.

Advisor: I get it. It’s a big change, and it’s not just about money. But think of it this way. You’ve built something solid here, a foundation. Now, you get to decide what you want to build on top of it. No rush, no pressure.

I suppose that’s true. Maybe I’ll give that book club a try. At the very least, it’s something different.

Advisor: I think that’s a great start, Mrs. Thompson. And remember, you’ve got options. Financially and otherwise. You’ve earned it.

——————————————————————

...

*The Saturday morning sun filtered through the canopy of trees lining the town square, casting dappled light on the stalls of the local farmer’s market. The air is thick with the scent of fresh bread, ripe apples, and earthy herbs. Hanami navigated her way through the familiar aisles, her woven basket tucked snugly under her arm.

Hey, Fushimi. You in?

Fushimi the Baker: Ah! Well, if it isn’t my best customer! I set this one aside for you, Hanami. Fresh out of the oven this morning!

*Fushimi gives Hanami a loaf of her favorite sourdough.

Heh...You know me too well. That's a bit dangerous, huh?

Fushimi: Oh come on, what kind of man do you take me for? Besides, it's not like I'm the only one who recognizes you in this part of town. So, what’s new with you? Still walking those same early morning routes?

You know me...I like to stick to what I know. Though…I did get invited to a book club the other day. Still thinking it over.

Fushimi: Now that’s something new. You should go for it! Can’t live on bread alone, right?

...But I like bread.

Fushimi: Hah! Yeah, well, me too! In case me making a profession out if it didn't make that obvious!

——————————————————————

*SNOOOORE...*

???: You really should stop doing that.

Ah!?

[hidden-among-stars]

I do think it’s important to clarify in your OP about the house bill that this is anti-trans legislation first and foremost. while it’s of concern for alterhumans, it is very deliberately being proposed as a way to frame trans people as animals & target trans kids—the author of the bill doesn’t actually care (and probably doesn’t know) about alterhumanity.

This bill will be used to prop up transphobic laws, and probably isn’t intended to be passed at all. I don’t think removing or ignoring that context is appropriate.

- a trans therian

I was going to make a reblog about this exact thing, but I'll say what I was going to say there here instead because I think it's important to make sure everyone gets the chance to see this. This is going to be long because I tend to ramble. TL;DR: Conservatives are not framing transgender people themselves as animals, but their arguments about/beliefs regarding people who identify as animals are absolutely deeply rooted in transphobia, which itself is deeply rooted in a fear/hatred of any "divergent identity." These two concerns are very closely entwined and are part of the same fight (the fight of "just let people be whoever they are"), but are not in and of themselves the same in the sense that this lawmaker is trying to target transgender folks with this specific bill. What makes this bill particularly concerning is the fact that it treats nonhuman-identities as their own separate issue, along with the media coverage it has been getting, which could easily spark other more "viable" anti-"furry" bills to be written and potentially passed in more conservative states across the country. However, this is not a time to panic, but rather a time to be vigilant and start thinking about how we need to prepare to defend one another against whatever comes next.

The fight for trans rights certainly still needs to be at the forefront of our minds, and we also need to be watchful for this threat that is creeping out from the cesspool that is the conservative need for any kind of new "monster" to blame society's problems on.

-Sincerely, another trans therian.

The whole "litterboxes in schools/students identifying as cats/animals" thing started with conservatives who said "if we let people identify as another gender its only a matter of time before people start identifying as animals." These people are well aware that transgender does not mean somebody who identifies as a different species - their concept of nonhuman identifying folks absolutely is rooted in transphobia, but is not in and of itself necessarily about transgender folks.

Reality is, anti-trans legislation and anti-"furry" (read: therian, otherkin, transspecies, etc. - though furries who aren't part of these labels would ultimately be affected as well) legislation are two sides of the same coin - but they are still two distinct sides. That coin is the "divergent identities" coin (and really has many facets, not just two... so... perhaps more of a "divergent identities" cube?), as I'll call it. Anything that isn't cis, het, christian, human-identifying, etc. would be considered a "divergent" identity - a disorder, an illness, something to be cured, something to be eliminated.

Yes, anti-"furry" clauses have up until now been wrapped up with anti-transgender bills. That's conservatives trying to, pardon the horrible cliche, kill two birds with one stone - but one bird they are assuming exists/believe exists because of a sensationalist story, not because they necessarily know it actually exists. Make absolutely no mistake though, now that even the slight possibility of nonhuman identifying folks is on their radar, they are going to work to - in their mind - prevent it, and "cure" (read: eliminate by whatever means they feel necessary) it for whoever already fits that description.

Up until now, it's been a side issue. Something to just tack onto anti-trans bills. The fact that some jerk of a lawmaker decided that it was a strong enough issue on its own to create its own bill is concerning because this marks the first time that it is being treated less like a hypothetical or a side problem, and more like it's own separate issue worth addressing.

However, these two are part of the exact same fight, and cannot/should not be considered entirely separate. The fight is not just about "let trans people be trans," the fight is about "let people be whoever they are." That includes being any sexuality other than allo-het, that includes any religion other than christian (not necessarily an "identity", but still), that includes being anything other than cisgender, and yes, it includes identifying as any species other than human. The focus has recently been particularly targeted at trans folks, but remember that before it was trans folks, it was anyone who wasn't straight.

Conservatives always need a "monster" to defeat. They rely on the outrage of the ignorant and the bigoted in order to get what they want. Its why so many of their talking points aren't really about the economy or infrastructure but instead are about things like abortion, "illegal immigrants," non-Western nations in general, religions that are seen as "foreign" or "satanic," and any identity that isn't considered "normal." The reality is, issues like poverty, poor infrastructure, and prevalent violence are issues that can't just be solved in a day - but humans like quick fixes, so some folks (especially conservatives, though they're certainly not the only ones) think if they can blame all of these issues on anyone who is considered an "other," then many people will be quick to follow them in trying to eliminate the "other" and just push aside all of the real problems that continue to, in someway or another, benefit the people in power.

It only takes one conservative with even half a braincell to decide to google "people who identify as animals" after seeing that a bill was penned to target this specifically, to discover that we therians/otherkin/transspecies folks/etc. really do exist and that the identity is starting to gain more traction especially among youth (thanks, TikTok). I don't think the guy that penned this bill is that one conservative (this dude apparently once tried to create "bigfoot hunting season" so. y'know. i don't think he's doing much research about anything lmao), but with the media attention this bill has gained, it's only a matter of time.

HOWEVER - THIS IS NOT A TIME TO PANIC. I literally cannot stress this enough. Panic is not the response we need to have, but rather vigilance and preparedness for the day nonhuman identities eventually do find their way into the spotlight so that we can be ready for whatever we need to do to fight back against whatever future bills may follow.

[slippinninque]

A Lil' Bit Special

The upcoming holiday has you feeling brave, so you decide to take a change.

Fontaine x black reader

warnings: long-fic, bad attempts at seduction and flirting, cursing, smoking, rambling and my horrid attempts at writing humor lol

::::

It was one of those days in autumn where it was just pleasant enough to hang outside. The sun was strong through the few clouds that grazed the sky, the breeze more cool than crisp.

Stacy decided that you needed to "get out more" so it somehow led to her low-key kidnapping you. Apparently there was a kickback happening with "a few friends already coming".

"It'll get you all ready to play hostess later on, trust me." Stacy offered as an excuse to your rolling eyes.

Wasn't long before you were parked, you two leaving the car to meet up with the rest of your girls.

It definitely became worth it when you saw a familiar Gran Prix not too far away.

You were playing the long game, but this was a beautiful opportunity.

To the knowing smiles and grins from your friends, you pardoned yourself to begin walking over to Fontaine's car.

You faltered when you were close enough to see him speaking with someone bent through the passenger window.

You weren't brave enough to have an audience. Another time then.

'Another time, then.' You thought, turning to retreat to retreat when you heard the soft bop of a horn.

Fontaine crooked his finger for you to come over and you huffed to hide the smile creeping on your face as you did.

"Huh, so you're honking at me like I'm some sort of peasant?"

"My bad, Lil'Bit, my bad. It looked like you wanted to talk to me about somethin'."

Your face warmed at his nickname for you, "I do, actually! Real quick, I know you're busy an' all that. I didn't want to interrupt."

Fontaine smacked his lips and gestured to the passenger seat.

"C'mon in here and talk to me, don' be standing out there."

Your heart squealed but you played it cool, "Can't do that--I'm hangin' with the ladies right now, but I do need you to say 'yes' to something."

He huffed a laugh, "And what's that?"

You leaned into the car a bit through the driver side window, propped onto your elbows and wore your best smile.

"I'm here to invite you to my Friendsgiving soiree later this week."

Fontaine paused, eyes going a bit narrow, "Friendsgiving?"

The butterflies returned under his scrutiny but you busied yourself, reaching out to run your index finger along the ridges of his steering wheel's grip. As far as your finger could reach before going back tracking on the opposite side.

"I don't have any family here, so I host one for all my people that can come through. ."

When you looked up, you saw he was watching your fidgeting with rapt attention.

"I would like to see you there. Big Moss too, if you can bring 'em. Anyone really--there's going to be enough to feed an army."

This was a bit of a risk for you. After all, he could consider you more of a familiar customer if anything.

You could have the vibes all wrong. Misread the looks, the small but thoughtful gestures. The few but pleasurable conversations they've had thus far...

You watched his eyes slide from your fingers and up to meet yours, the most expressive pair of eyes you've seen, your favorite part of that man.

"Yes."

You couldn't help but to smile. You were down bad but if there was a chance that Fontaine would like to join you, fuck it. You wanted to burrow in that.

"Wonderful! Bring anything you like, but it's not mandatory or nothing." You spotted a dude walking up through the passenger side window and straightened.

"I'll see you later, 'Taine, yeah?"

He nodded and when you turned to make your way to your friends, you could feel them warming your back.

::::

You spent the rest of the week getting ready to host. You did all of the prep and cooking of the essential sides, just in case plans changed. You would rather have too much food to end up giving away rather than too little to share.

When thanksgiving finally rolled around, you allowed yourself to get swept up in the festivities.

There was a lot of food. Friends who couldn't make it sent forward a dish to be shared the next day. Coworkers who came through to get something on their stomachs before going to the company's booze-only party.

Neighbors who lingered and played a few hands of Spades, bringing fruits and plants as gifts. There were drinks and smoke flowing with the easy togetherness that you were grateful for.

You were in a bit of a difficult standing with your family at the moment. A lot of silences, hesitant texts. It just needed some work, when you were ready to do it. Until then, you still reached out to the fam to let them know you were still thinking of them.

The evening came and your core crew began dispersing. You felt floating and full yourself, tipsy from the good time you've been having since the afternoon. Your apron was filled with messes and you long ago slipped on your slippers.

While farewells happened in the front room, you went into the kitchen to make a few to-go plates and map out exactly how all the left over were going to fit in your fridge.

"You wasn't fuckin' around, Lil'Bit."

Startling, you looked over your shoulder and saw Fontaine standing there with a few bags in hand. You felt your face flame, knowing how much of a mess you looked.

"You're here already?" You checked the time on your phone, "Of course you are, you'd said you'd be a little later. Sit, sit. I'll make you a plate."

"I ain't trippin', I can make it--"

You turned, walking right up to Fontaine and for some reason found yourself grabbing the zipper of his jacket.

"I'm glad you're here, Fontaine. Show me what you brought while I make your plate."

Silently, Fontaine put the bags on the island. Putting the assorted fruit platter and wine bottle onto the kitchen counter.

Bless his heart, he brought paper plates and plastic silverware too. You cooed, grabbing the big count of assorted utensils and immediately tearing into them.

Before long, Fontaine was leaning against your fridge with a hefty plate as you returned to the to-go plates.

"Is 'Moss with you?" You just remembered with a jolt.

Fontaine hummed a positive, "Out there talkin' to Stacy."

You laughed a bit, making an extra plate. With the finished plates, you went to the front room to pass them out. You greeted Big Moss and wished safe travels to your departing friends.

There was only Big Moss, Stacy, yourself, Fontaine. You should have stayed in the front to get Stacey to put away her pretty little eyes, less she get involved in the whirlwind of Big Moss and his baby mama--but...

You switched on your radio and lowered it, asking them if they needed anything.

"Girl, sit yo' tail down." Stacy admonished, shuffling a deck of cards while Moss poured something for them both, "You've been standing all day. Eat something too, while you're at it!"

"Eek, alright, you can't fuss at me in my house!"

Stacy made a show of narrowing her eyes and you hightailed it out of there. You took one of the stools with you, plopping it next to the one already pulled to the island.

Fontaine was rolling a blunt next to his plate. When you finally took a seat, you took a deep sigh. The kitchen would have to wait until morning, you would put all the food away the best you can.

'A happy trouble.' you told yourself as you took in the spread on the island.

A bunt being set in front of you brought you out of your head. Fontaine rounded the island to take a seat on the stool before you. Taking out the lighter in your apron, you fired up in one flame.

"My bad for comin' so late. Big Moss' Mama roped us into cleaning up after her and her gang."

"Her...gang?"

You passed the blunt to him as he nodded, "Somethin' about a knitting circle potluck. I ain't even sure, but she was laughing...so..."

He shrugged but you understood. So long as Mama Moss was having a good time, it didn't matter what she needed.

"Not the Mama Moss Gang." You giggled at the image of Fontaine and Big Moss chaperoning knitters going wild.

He grinned, chuckling a bit. You both fell into easy conversation, comfortable and familiar as you passed the blunt back and forth.

In the background you heard Stacy and Big Moss talking shit and a Lauryn Hill song played. Fontaine glowed in the low light of single kitchen light.

"You want somethin' sweet?" You asked him, your appetite perking up. Fontaine made a low noise, considering?

He tamped out the blunt, "Whatchu got sweet, Lil'Bit?"

"Ugh, I demand a new nickname." You leaned over to grab the top of the cake container settled in the middle of the chaos, "How'd you feel about pound cake? I made the frosting too."

You didn't wait for his response. You cut two generous slices and put them on the same paper plate.

Fontaine passed you a plastic fork, "Can't do pound cake, I ain't lettin' no one else call you that shit."

You stared at him blankly for a moment before you scoffed, soon trying to smother your laugh into your hand. You stood to pour two glasses of milk,

"Well, I don't like Lil'Bit. It makes me feel like you don't take me seriously."

"I take you serious, 'Bit. Trust an' believe. I'm tryin' not to take you too serious."

"What's that mean, Fontaine?"

He tilted his head and gave you one of those faraway looks that meant he was choosing his next words very carefully. You sliced your cake into little squares and waited.

He reached out and took one of your hands it began to fidget, "That came out crazy. I dig you. I think you're somthin' special. I don't...want to run you off. 'Cause you ain't seen it all yet."

Turning your hand so you'd meet his palm to palm, your stared into his eyes.

"What is it that you think I need to see to make me not want you?"

That was a bit heavy handed, but you couldn't make yourself feel regretful if you tried. Especially when you saw his eyes train onto where you still held hands, not able to say anything.

"I don't mean to force you," You said softly, "I just wanted to let you know how I feel. That I like what you've let me see so far and...I would like to show you more of me too."

His brows rose and you sighed, "Alright, I'm a few double-shots down---Okay? I can't dismantle every innuendo."

You were glad to see his face soften, the hand around yours holding a bit tighter.

"It's all good. I'm looking forward to what we'll show each other next."

He lifted your hand, paused a bit, then pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

He promised to think of a name that would 'better suit you'.

Your heart sang at the nearly bashful look he shot you and suddenly you couldn't wait to see how many nights you could get this man to kiss you over dessert.

You kept yourself present, though. Fontaine seemingly done with words as he turned back to his cake. He was content to hold your hand, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles.

There was still more words to be had, but there was always tomorrow.

This, right now though, was one exciting start.

-----------

notes: PHEW! this one was a longer one. thank you for reading all of this, i just really wanted to write something holiday themed for Fontaine. Any feed back is welcomed!

[unlimitedhearts]

I’m dreading the third game of Spiderman might kill off Harry :/ either he’s goblin (solo or probably along with daddy-o) and dies a la Hero Sacrifice. Or kept comatose and in the end with grim results the decision is to pull the plug on him. idk I feel Harry’s fate is doom and gloom. But they could have killed Harry at the end of this sequel giving a strong motivation for Norman to be the Goblin and hatred for Spider-Man…yet they didn’t. idk rambling thoughts. What do you think?

Personally i can see both options. I saw someone in the tags of my last headcanon post say that it wouldnt make sense to save him from death in this game only to kill him in the next. On some level i get that, why wait when you could do it now?

I have two worst case scenarios in my head:

Harry wakes up from his coma w amnesia a la the third Tobey Maguire movie. Hes unaware of Pete being Spider-Man and Peter, thinking hes protecting Harry, wont tell him. This may cause a rift in their friendship when Harry finds out - or if Norman ends up going goblin and dies - Spider-Man is to blame in Harrys eyes and he'll go after him then. To me this is a tired trope of Harry getting an intense hatred for Spidey and wanting to kill him over his father. It always felt out of character for me and i truly TRULY hope they dont go this route.

Harry becomes the Kobold. In the comics, Kobold is essentially Harrys way of making the Green Goblin a good guy. If he still wants to fight by Peters side, he'll find a way to do it. Kobold would make a lot of sense to me personally, as it kind of continues their dynamic from this game. Then at the end theres a heros sacrifice to be made and Harry goes for it despite Peters protests. This would be lazy to me too though because he essential already did the heros sacrifice in this game. Seems like theyd just want us to have more time with him to love him even more, just to make losing him hurt worse. I wouldn't put it past an intrepid writer to think they could make it work, but it just seems lazy to me.

Actual best case scenario for me though? Harry wakes up as the g-serum is being injected. Hes against being his dads experiment all over again so he runs and finds Peter. Hes not aware of his pseudo-retirement, he just goes straight to the place thats always been his safe haven; Peters home. He asks Peter to hide him from his dad. Tries to explain everything but hes exhausted and frantic. Peter agrees and they take him into hiding.

Norman, ever the expert deflector, doesnt see this as a failing on his part. Hes convinced spider-man had something to do with his son escaping so he puts out a hit on him. Hes ready, willing, and able to capture and kill at least one of the two spider-men it doesnt matter. We see him pardon Wilson Fisk for this job, and when Fisk cant do it, he has to. Normans going to go Goblin. I know it, i can feel it in my bones.

Miles asks Peter to get back in action and he does. Fisk, plus potentially Otto again, plus this brand new villain in town is too much for any one person to handle. Heres where i see Harry becoming a "Guy In The Chair" for Peter like Ganke is for Miles. Two Guys in the Chair helping the spider-men is definitely better than one. I could also see Harrys goblin powers start to emerge but he keeps pushing them down. Last time he gave into power it didnt end well for anyone.

In an effort to not write out the entire plot of the game as i see fit (because itd be long and there are so many moving pieces and characters and IDEK WHERE THEYRE GONNA PUT SILK IN-), i think if Harry does take on the cowl he'll be doing so against his father. I think i see Harry becoming Goblin/Kobold to fight against Norman and ultimately try to help Peter/Miles. This is where i see Harry either accidentally killing Norman or Norman killing his son (and of course, blaming Spider-Man)

There is also room, in my mind, to bring back Venom a la Lethal Protector/Agent Venom. But tbh if they do, i would much rather Venom go to Eddie Brock or Flash Thompson. But thats just the separate Venom Fangirl Entity within me.

Ultimately my hope of course is that Harry not die and they dont go down that all too tired and hackneyed trope of Harry growing to hate Peter dor whatever reason. I truly TRULY hope they dont go that route it is just SO tired and lazy. I want them to stay close and loving. Whatever route they go with will be SO MUCH MORE IMPACTFUL if Harry Osborn lives and doesnt make a full 180 on his best friend for no good reason.

[rosies-emporium]

Dove kept her guard up as she made her way through Cannibal Town, trying to.make certain that she wouldn't be next on the menu. She had heard the tales from Alastor and others; despite their background, they were surprisingly pleasant folks who loved musical theater.

She was on a different mission however.

Her gaze fell upon Rosie's shop, taking a deep breath as she entered into the establishment, "Hello? Anyone here?"

A customer!

From her spot behind the counter, Rosie hurried over to greet the newcomer. Unlike usual, the emporium was rather quiet today, so a new arrival sparked her interest. Especially since it was so blatantly obvious that they weren't from around here...

Why, welcome, welcome! What can I do for you today? It's not often that we get visitors from outside the town...

Ah, don't let me start rambling about that now or I won't be done till noon! You must've come a long way. Not too chilly out there?... Alright! I'm all ears. Tell Rosie what she can arrange for you. Or are you lost? Pardon my bluntness, dear, don't you look quite very unique-

[mx-jinxous]

Chapter 6

Steve didn’t know how he got here. One moment he was sleeping under a tree with Dustin, settling into his new role, next he’s in the middle of a guarded shopping market in the village. Last time he had been here, Brenner tried to remove his arm from his body over the equivalent of an engagement ring. Now he was being watched at every corner. 

After Joyce had woken him up in the garden, he’d carried Dustin and left him with the guards on his way to collect his belongings from his temporary room. He took a carriage ride with Joyce and her children to their home, filled with silence aside from the thumping of the road. The home itself wasn’t big by any means, but spacious enough for this family size. For the night, Steve had to share a room with Joyce’s eldest son, seemingly the silent type. He’d taken the settee, giving the other boy his bed without a word, which led to the awkward morning. 

When he’d woken up, it was the man from the garden, snuggling him tightly while he snored in his ear. He was frozen in place, unsure of what to do as with each passing breath, wondering if he should push the man off and risk waking him for an even more awkward encounter. It was going to be awkward regardless of how it was approached, however, it couldn’t have been more horrifying and embarrassing than any other option. Steve jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat, waking the man behind him. The young man watched as the gardener raised his head, looked over his shoulder at their visitor, looking down at him, and repeated the process once more before sitting up with a stretch.

“You pardon the spontaneous cuddles, my sir. I believed you were Johnny, and if I must say, not a bad cuddler.” He stood, giving Steve a front view of Jonathan and how the gardener wrapped his arms around the young man.

“Ah, thanks dude? Duly noted.” He mumbled, sitting up and avoiding eye contact with either boy.

“Dude?”

“Um, yeah. Like bro, or man… sir.”

“Like a term of endearment. I like it, dude.” He smirked, wrapping himself around Jonathan, the younger boy’s face flushing across his cheeks. The long-haired gardener chuckled, using his shoulder to rest his chin while rocking them. They were the perfect picture of a smitten couple and it made something ache inside Steve, like a rock was taking up most of the space in his chest.

“Yeah… kind of.” A silence fell on them as awkwardness between them from before returned. “So… why are you sneaking around the Byer’s home? You’re the king’s gardener, right?”

“Oh yes! The name is Argyle, but I spend most nights with Johnny. I arrived well into the night, so forgive the cuddles.”

“It’s cool, man, just not used to this arrangement. Joyce said something about setting up my room before returning to the castle.”

“Yes! Today is a day of rest for the workers. We are spending the morning shopping for clothing.” 

“That is our plan if you boys can drag yourselves out of bed.” Steve jumps, Joyce having snuck into the room while they had spoken. “Hop is dropping the children off at the castle for their classes and will be back to set up your room. If we wish to return before their classes conclude, then I suspect we should move our feet rather than drag them.” 

That’s how Steve found himself thrown into the middle of the market, joined by not only the Byers, but Argyle and a girl named Robin. He’d seen her around the castle, yet hadn’t spoken, though neither seemed to want to reach out. She had already been in the carriage when they had climbed in and seemed to be nominated by Joyce to be his shopping partner and lecturer. She had been rambling, jumping between topics, while she was dragging him from stall to stall. It was a prime example of ADHD if Steve had ever seen one, which was too hard for him to follow, so he spaced out.

He came back to when she snapped her fingers in his face, directing an annoyed glare at him. “I have already repeated myself twice and will not do it again.”

“Well, sorry, I can’t keep track of you.” Steve growled.

“If you would stay alert then you could possibly learn something, Curantis. I assume you cannot reiterate what I just explained to you.”

“And you’d be correct. You lost me on your tangent about what clothes would keep me from sticking out like Bigfoot in the city.” He rolled his eyes, scoffing as he crossed his arms across his chest protectively. This caused the young woman to groan, throwing her head back in frustration.

“You say such outlandish things that make no sense.” Robin turned and marched on, trying to leave Steve with the last word. He followed without hesitation, only for her to whip around without warning. “I was trying to explain the different magic classes to you since you will be in charge of several children that fall into those classes, yet if you continue being an ass, then I will let you learn on your own. Mind you, they are in that age where emotions run high, that being said I hope you enjoy losing your lushes locks.” She scoffed, flicking a strand of Steve’s hair to emphasize the point, before turning on her heels and leading him to another stall.

“Fine, then go on and explain.” He groaned as he followed.

“Gods, you are dense in the head. If you had paid attention the first time, then we would not be in this predicament.”

“Whatever!” Steve growled, the others finally catching up with the two. Joyce had an unpleasant look on her face and gave the classic hands on her hips. 

“Robin, what is going on with you?”

“I do not understand why I am tasked with teaching the intruder!” She growled, looking at the woman with a glare. Joyce sighed, looking back at her son, whose attention was on Argyle haggling with a merchant, a small smile on his face.

“Jonathan, would you please take over for Robin and explain things for Curantis?” The young man jumped, nodding with a blush to his cheeks. He switched with Robin, leaving with Steve to give the two women a moment alone. “Come. Let us speak while we stroll.” 

The younger woman didn’t say anything, just followed her through the market. She knew a lecture was on Joyce’s tongue and was bracing for it. It didn’t come swiftly, instead they were in a more secluded place when the older woman decided to speak up. “I hold you in high regards. Where Nancy has a logical approach, you have a compassionate one, so you must understand why you are being so cold towards Curantis. I had chosen you for this role, to fold him into our world and get him prepared for the role he was given. I am disappointed in you for this out of nowhere coldness come from?”

True to her word, there was only disappointment in her voice, which seemed successful in pulling a pout from Robin. When Joyce turn to face her, she saw the young girl staring down at her feet while she kicked stones.

“Perhaps we should all think like Nancy from time to time. I am not sorry for being wary of a thief just because he brought another criminal in for justice. The last time we trusted a stranger, he harmed your family. After what happened to the twins and Chrissy, forgive me if I do not wish to see them harmed again.” She scoffed, refusing to look up at the women. 

“I understand where you are coming from, truly. I vouched for Martin and he harmed my babies, which is something that I will have to live with for the rest of my days. I need you to understand where I am coming from. He is not Martin, he is just a lost young man. Perhaps you should talk to him before making assumptions.” Robin scoffed, taking the lead to the jewelry stand, Joyce shaking her head as she watched the young woman. Debating whether to try to reason with a girl, but came to a stop when a chill ran down her spine, causing a shiver. She wrapped her cloak while an unsettling feeling befell her. Joyce wanted to hurry this trip along.

The silence that fell over the three boys filled with an awkward silence that seemed to be the normal between Steve and Jonathan while Argyle happily bounced around the stalls. They stood off to the side, avoiding eye contact anyway possible. Steve knew he should say something, or at least apologize for the accidental cuddling with his boyfriend, but couldn’t figure out how to broach the subject. He tossed some ideas around in his head, only to be dragged out by said man clearing his throat.

Steve jumped, whipping his head to face Jonathan. The young man was staring, neither seemingly able to push through the tension to address the other. At least Steve couldn’t. Jonathan seemed to drag enough strength to look at the other. “My mother has told you about some magic, however, to what extent?”

“Not much. I just know that there are different type and that those kids I’m in charge of fall into those classes.”

“I see. Then I shall start with listing the different types of magic schools, followed by those that fall.”

“Ah… sure?” Steve situated himself against a wall, Jonathan closing quarter, but not leaning like the other boy.

“To begin, you have the more common classes, sorcery and druid mages. We have more sorcerers in our ranks than any other. You will be in charge of Dustin and Erica. You will meet fewer diviners and enchanters, which sadly have been dwindling over the years. El and Will are the only diviners I have ever come across in my whole life, and Lucas, Erica’s older brother, is an enchanter. That leaves the final class, a vitamancer, the one and only in the region, being my mother.”

“Why is she the only one? Wouldn’t you or your siblings be healers?”

“The twins fall in their class and my magic is too weak to fall into a class.”

“But we love Johnny all the same.” Argyle appeared, wrapping his arm around Jonathan. A mirror of this morning. The other boy was bright red as the druid tucked a flower into his hair. They joined hands on his hip, the two smiling with eyes only on each other like they were the only two people round.

That was abruptly cut off by a shrill scream that reverberated from a nearby alleyway. Without hesitation, Steve led the charge to find the sight that made his blood boil. Dangling by her arm from an overly tight grip of a man three times her size was one of his kids, Max, if he recalled. He was shaking her violently as he screamed at her face belligerently, while she screamed back, trying to kick him, unable to by the way she was being shaken. 

Steve didn’t hesitate, grabbing the nearest the wall, a metal bar to his luck. He stepped into the guy’s line of sight, glaring at the man as he took up a swinging stance. “Hey dumbass! Put her down or I’m going to realign your face into something prettier!” He growled.

“Keep to yourself scrawny. This brat’s brother owed me and I am getting my due one way or another!” He spat in Max’s direction, repulsing the red-head.

“Keep your hands to yourself! I don’t care if her brother owes you even a coin. She’s my responsibility. Let her go now or I will knock what little teeth you have out!”

The men stared each other down, Steve puffing his chest out to try to intimidate the man. “Fine. If you are in charge of her, then you can pay up.” He threw Max to the ground, a sickening crack echoing as the man kept at Steve. He didn’t get a chance when blood spattered across his face and torso. A rough scream echoed in his ears as he was shoved back, finding himself back out on the street. 

The world went numb around him, and couldn’t process anything around him, just the blood dripping from his hands. He hadn’t seen this much since the museum, the thieves’ blood covering golem Kas’. His chest was hurting, his breathing quick and shallow, a reminder that death loomed over him recently and he couldn’t fight the panic that poured over him.

The only thing that held him at the moment was hands wrapped around his. It was enough to look up and see Robin, her eyes wide with panic, her mouth moving, yet the words were drowned out by a ringing in his ears. “I-I ca-can’t breathe.” There were hands on him, one gripping his throat. He was thrashing as the corner of his vision was clouding and before he knew it, his sight was gone and his body collapsed.

When he came to, it was to the familiar stone ceiling of the castle, a wet rag on his forehead. Through a sore throat, he let out a groan escape, which was enough to signal those in the room. “Well, well. Back to the land of the living, I see.” Joyce smiled as she peered down at him.

“What happened?” A grumble escaped as he sat up.

“The guards took the assailant down, now locked up in the village. I believe the blood had set you off in a panic. You were squeezing your own neck while gasping for air and passed out. How are you feeling?”

“My throat hurts. Other than that, I’m fine. How’s the kid?”

“Max’s ankle was broken. However, I was able to heal it. Here dear, let me heal your neck.” Steve leaned his head back, a warm light casting against his neck. It was brief, but the pain resided with the glow. “There we are. Now, shall we go join the others for dinner? Journey ahead of us.” She offered out a hand, which the younger took without hesitation. He was still slightly drowsy, so he allowed Joyce to pull him through the castle to a large dining hall already filled with the castle’s occupants.

Dustin was the first to see him and nearly knocked him over when he sprinted from his chair and wrapped his arms around the babysitter. “You are awake!”

Steve couldn’t help the chuckle that left him wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Now Dustin, Curantis must be hungry. Let us take a seat.” The young boy excitedly pulled the babysitter towards the table.

“Come, you can sit by me and then we can go read more about Knight Alderman.”

“I don’t think I’ll be staying long enough for reading time.” Steve found himself between Dustin and Max, the young girl, looking better than she had earlier. She was picking at the bread on her plate while looking bored at Dustin’s huffing. “But tomorrow, before class, we can read a whole chapter.” Dustin pouted, but turned his attention back to his food.

With his excitement tempered, Steve turned to his dinner just as his plate was filled with unknown meats, cheese, and bread that made his mouth water. One of the blessings of being sent whenever this was, which he was going to miss sorely when he went back to living out of his car. He has no doubt he’s been fired for being MIA, knowing he’s just another number. Part of him hoped Grey would care enough to file a missing person’s report, but then again, the old man was just kind and didn’t owe him anything.

Still, Steve wasn’t going to ignore a hot meal, so he dug in like everyone else. There was hardly chatter, the clatter of silverware on ceramic dishes echoes were filling the room. It was nice being surrounded by people for once in the few years he’d been on his own, though his parents traveled far more than spent time with him in his teen years. It was a warm feeling, and he was gonna hate losing it.

Sadly, it was over way too soon for his liking, and he left with the Byers’, the others making their exit soon after, leaving Kas to corral Dustin and Max to their room. The young girl tucked herself while Eddie tucked in the boy, who seemed a little distant.

“How do you both like your new curantis?”

“I think he is a weakling who faints at the sight of blood. Either way, he was stupidly brave or just stupid to go against that brut.” Max scoffed, staring off to the wall and away from the others.

“I think he is thriving! We have spent quite enough time together. Perhaps you should try it instead of studying him afar!” It is like having a brother whose job is to only spend time with us.”

“I do not need another brother. I have one already!” She snapped, only making Dustin react with another snap.

“Do not be such a prude, Max! I am just telling my truth!” Kas held his hands up at the two, trying to coral them before it got turned into a full-fledged fight. Both were sitting up in bed, glaring at one another, ready to say things that worried the king.

“Your truth is replacing your dead loved ones with anyone that gives you an ounce of attention. I, however, will not be replacing Billy with someone that does not even have a name! It is your fault you do not mourn your mother!” That’s where he drew the line, cutting both children off.

“Enough! Both of you are walking a fine line and someone’s going to get hurt. No one is attempting to replace Billy, but you cannot go tearing someone else down for the way they deal with a loss. Both of you need to apologize to the other because neither is wrong here, but what you both said was.” Neither said anything, laying down with their backs facing one another. Another sigh left the king, but he decided to leave the rest for tomorrow when they all had a night’s sleep. 

Leaning over, he blew out the single candle that lit the room, not missing the quivering breathing from both sides of the room, wanting nothing more than to comfort the children. He knew, though, that tomorrow was the best time to broach the subject, only hoping for a better day tomorrow.

Though the day ended less progressive than had been planned when they set out, Joyce had managed to obtain a healthy amount of clothing and blankets that the two were currently putting into the room Hopper had gotten the room put together with the bare minimum. Steve loved having a room back and even if it had just been a pillow and a sheet, taking in the comfort of laying on the bed while Joyce was fitting the clothes into the wardrobe.

“You were rather protective of Max today, jumping in to try to save her.” The older woman spoke up.

“Well, she is my responsibility and I don’t give a damn about what happened between that guy and her brother, but you don’t attack a kid. I would have knocked him out if I hadn’t panicked over the blood. I guess the museum is haunting me, even though I’m on good terms with Kas.”

“Trauma has a way of doing that. I myself am familiar with such. You seemed to be a natural protector when it comes to reactions though, I admire that.” He could hear the smile on her lips, though he couldn’t see her.

“Well, this isn’t my first time babysitting. Between jobs, I would watch the children of my wealthy neighbors that wanted to live out the best years of their lives instead of taking care of their children at home. I made great money that way until my parents kicked me out and outed me to all the neighbors. They all treated me like a heathen for liking both genders. I guess it was fate that I ended up here taking care of the kids.” A chuckle left Steve, ignoring the dip beside him on the bed.

“While you are here, you have no worry of judgment. Some of us become parental over our wards. I had a young man I taught that was like a son to me. He was the only other vitamancer I had met and was quite gifted.” He wanted to ask more, to learn more about this kindhearted woman, yet the look on her face seemed to tell an unhappy ending to this story. Joyce seemed to sense his curiosity and offered a nod to Steve’s suspicions. “You do well with the children. Dustin seems to favor you.”

A smile slid on his lips at the mention of the young boy. “He’s a good kid, just wanting to belong. I get what it’s like to be alone.”

“Hopefully, you will not feel that way with us. I am here as a listener, if you wish to reach out.” With a pat to his shoulder, she stood and made her way towards the door.

“Thank you, Joyce.”

“It is no problem, Curantis.” She said, sliding out the door. His mouth worked before his brain could comprehend whether he’d regret his decision.

“Steve.” She stopped before closing the door, dipping her head back into the room with a wide smile.

“Please get some rest then, Steve. I will wake you in the morning.” With that, she shut the door, leaving Steve to rest.

[foodforthought00]

Sand really dug himself a feet into the ground everytime boeing was brought in front of ray. In words and in person. He legit said no worries only to turn around and act full worried.

The Boeing conflict of Ray-sand, for once, isn't about sand saving ray from Ray's explosion but rather ray saving sand from sand's implosive tendencies. Tables turned and for that I'm happy, but Sand's behaviour although understandable, really peeved me. Understandable coz sand is the type of person who knows everyone's dirty laundary and baggage. Everyone overshares with him coz of his authenticity and kind persona but sand barely ever gives enough of himself to others. He only does so when he really connects and such connections inevitably become romantic working towards permanence and exclusivity. So it really is no wonder that that he deeply cherishes the connection he makes with his ex lovers who also are essentially his best friends despite them being cheating as******. So he might need a shove from ray to help him shove boeing out of his life for good.

Despite all that Sand's behaviour with ray, who is his established boyfriend atm is appalling. It is not his incapability to brush off boeing that sets me off half as much as his dismissal of ray. Sand basks in loud affection and ray revels in Sand's silent care but with boeing sand isn't giving ray his due diligence and that is hurtful to someone who is trying so hard. Ray without label was hurtful and confused but he was always honest and upfront about everything including his feelings and confusions but sand is quiet in his pain and anger and affection. Sure he has a face splitting grin and is accepting of everything but his first instinct is to hide and clam up. With him it's half truths and silence, both of which are detrimental to relationships. Ray needs to push sand to take action. Sand has to be cornered to be honest. Sadly getting cornered and cornering would become tiring real fast if these two cannot come up with less emotionally taxing ways of expressing.

Ray as a boyfriend is amazing. And boy is he loud about his feelings. The first half of the episode made me really happy to see sand being paid attention to and showered with so much love. Rays devotion and love, I hope never turns toxic or runs out because as long as sand finds a way to communicate and acknowledge his wants, needs and emotions he very much deserves someone who embraces him and all his flaws and dreams and baggage tightly, refusing to let go even when threatened with bodily harm.

Personally, I always felt like Ray's love would be a lot to take as he has never had someone to unload his love, ever. He gives as good as he gets. And Ray's brand of crazy is fun and when I saw it confront boeing's brand of crazy I bought out a bucket of popcorn only to realize the episode is over.

One last thing about sand: When confronting he's a lion. Gets all up in your face, making u own up to your shit and forcing u to take action and solve it. He's mature and reasonable and brave. When being confronted, he's a cat better yet a mouse, even when the problem is up in his face asking to kiss he simply makes droopy faces and hopes to ignore it into oblivion. My child it doesn't work that way, didn't work with ray and most certainly won't work with boeing. For once, Allow yourself to just feel and act on those feelings freely.

Phew, that was long. Pardon this senile lady her ramblings. Also if you have actually managed to read this from start to finish hats off to your patience. And a heartfelt thanks for ur interest.

[madphantom]

New Sarah snippet under the cut!

"Good day, I have been told you used to work for the Winston household."

The man's voice lit up. "Oh, yes! I began working as a servant there when I was fifteen. Lovely people. Such a shame the family line has ended."

"It has?"

"Oh yes. The old Winstons passed away in the same year, almost twenty years ago, first Margaret, then William. They had a long and hard life, I believe it was quite the relief for them both."

"Didn't they have a daughter?"

"Oh, they did. Sarah Winston died in spring 1871." Joseph paused. "Poor girl, she was always a very unhappy person. She drowned in the river when it overflowed after the snow thawed that year. Her parents were devastated, they never expected that to happen. She had always been such a good swimmer. They never found the body, God knows where she rests. But, pardon the question, why are you asking this?"

"I have a patient here who claims that Sarah Carlyle, neé Winston, is alive," I confided. "An old gentleman on his deathbed, who appears to have had a history with her. I found a diary in his possession - well, rather, he gave it to me - in which he details a summer romance with her. However, in the middle of said diary, the author changed from his name to hers."

"Perhaps the deluded rambling of a dying man, yearning for the sweetheart from his youth?"

"The diary is dated summer 1871."

Joseph paused.

"...that is indeed peculiar," he finally said. "Wait, Carlyle you say?"

"Yes."

"The Carlyle boy came back," Joseph mumbled.

"What?"

"I said the Carlyle boy came back. He had a disagreement with his mother and father one night just a few days before Sarah passed, packed his things and left. For a while they thought it was his youthful stubbornness that kept him from returning. Then his baggage was found, almost completely emptied, at a train station about 200 miles west from here, containing a bloodstained rag. It was assumed that during his hot-headed travels, he had simply been robbed and murdered. An old woman was murdered in the area just a month later, so it seemed reasonable."

"Oh, what a tragedy." I thought about the night Frankie had described in his diary, the night when he told the storyteller about the beheaded old woman. "Wait, but what do you mean he came back?"

"With the first snow he suddenly stood before the door and asked to be let in. His skin was white-grey as the November sky and his eyes dead. It was so early in the morning and so foggy that at first the household thought him a ghost. Perhaps they weren't so wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"He came back wrong, but less in a horrifying way and more in a…mourning way. He was never the same as before…something or someone had changed him to the point of uncanniness. He would spend hours staring out of the window at the winter sky like a captured bird. Take walks in the park early in the morning, when the glistening snow was still untouched. He was often seen wandering through the white fog like a ghost, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by a red-headed stranger, and sat for hours on a bench beneath the old willow trees." Joseph sighed. "He never spoke of the time he was gone. By the time he was twenty-five, his hair was as white as his face, and he looked more dead than alive. Something had murdered him during his time away after all, and it was just some tiny spark of life that kept him walking."

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

More Than Words

A Rovickie one-shot with a side of Jargyle and Platonic Vargyle. Okay, platonic Vargyle turned out to be a big side. Oops.

Vickie had wanted to be paired up with Robin for their next and supposedly last mission, but Hopper had other plans. It might have been a smart idea, though, she thought. She would have just gotten distracted, but she hadn't really had a chance to talk with Robin since all of this happened. It all had to happen quickly, though, to save Hawkins. They were sure that this time, Vecna would be destroyed or, rather, they hoped he would be now that more people were in the know and were willing to help out.

Argyle and Vickie were on guard duty while the others took on the main mission. They all had their own little jobs. Vickie couldn't believe how much Robin had spoken up for her and trusted her enough to have her watch over Max. Jonathan had trusted Argyle enough to watch over Max as well. They didn't know the girl at all or the others, but Vickie was learning quickly that these people were family and they would do anything for each other. It was so clear to see.

"I don't like them either," Argyle spoke up.

Vickie stopped humming to Kate Bush, the music that was currently playing in the hospital room, and looked at Argyle, who stood on the other side of Max's bed.

"Pardon?" Vickie asked.

"Guns," Argyle said, raising his own. "You had this weird look on your face, man, I thought it was the guns. I hate having to use them, but I will if it means protecting this girl."

"I was just thinking about how close these guys are," Vickie said.

"And you feel like you're intruding a little even though they put their trust in you?" Argyle asked.

"Yes! How'd you know?" She asked.

"I'm more than just a pretty face, Lady Vickie," Argyle said, and then he paused. "I feel the same way, too. It feels odd. They all have this history, and I feel like we're both coming in during the final inning. . .did I get that right?"

"Yes, well, I'm glad I'm not alone in feeling this way. I know it's not the most important thing, right now. . .I just feel weird, and I'm glad to be helping here, but I also wish that I was out there with Robin and helping her, you know? I mean, what if she dies? What if I die and I never get to tell her how I feel? But again, there are more important things to worry about right now than that, but then I think about her lips and the fact that she rambles just like me - do you know how many people have told me to just shut up and that no one cares about what I think and the fact that Robin understands that, that she makes me feel like I'm not the only one in the world who does that, who's not a freak for talking like this - and holy shit, I just came out to you before coming out to Robin! I don't even know you!" Vickie exclaimed and slapped a hand over her mouth.

"It's alright, I get it. I'm the same way with Jonathan. I'm still not sure if he's still with Nancy or not," Argyle said. "We're both lone wolves with a shit ton of anxiety. I wanted so badly to help him with that when he first moved to California. . .this adorable boy, who looked completely out of his element. I just wanted to hug the stuffing out of him. We both had shitty dads and were both raised by a single mom with a ton of anxiety because of it. No one ever really wanted to be my friend before because people think I'm too weird, and I say stupid things, but most of it is just me trying to brighten people's day. School sucks, I just thought I could make their day, but it took me a long time to realize that they were laughing at me and then pretending to be my friend for my weed. Jonathan was never like that. He was my first real friend. He actually thought I was funny, and I didn't need to try so hard to be funny around him. I didn't have to be afraid when the laughter stopped with him."

"So, you drove him all the way from California to Indiana and risked your life doing so?" Vickie asked with a soft understanding smile.

"Wouldn't you do the same for Robin?" Argyle asked.

"I would," she said sweetly.

Argyle and Vickie shared a knowing smile with each other. It was nice to know that she wasn't alone with feeling this way, and she was starting to feel relieved that it was Argyle she had been stuck with. . .happily stuck here with. Vickie stared at Max's prone form and Argyle's eyes followed her line of sight.

"I hope she wakes up," Argyle said.

"Me too," Vickie said softly and touched Max's fingers. "Hey, I know that you don't me, but my name is Vickie, and this here is Argyle. We're looking out for you while your family is out there fighting for you. No pressure or anything, but I hope you're fighting just as hard as they are. I know my word doesn't mean anything to you because we're complete strangers, but I want you to know that we're going to fight just as hard for you."

"You should listen to her, man. She knows what she's talking about," Argyle said to Max. "And not just because she's also a redhead like you."

Vickie grinned, flashing her dimples at him. Suddenly, their radios crackled to life.

"Fuck! Goddamnit! Demogorgons in the hospital - stupid, Callahan!" Powell's voice said. "One is heading your way, Miss Fisher and Mr. Argyle!"

They had been guarding the entrance to the hospital along with some of the people who served and people who just wanted to fight. Vickie and Argyle paled. He raised his gun and faced the door while remaining on that side of the bed. His long hair was braided and out of the way. It was startling to see his usual soft face suddenly become hard. Vickie shook her head and turned away from him, pointing her own gun at the door. They heard the sound of the demogorgon coming closer, and then they heard it trying to get in. There were tons of objects blocking its path, and she hoped it was slowing it down. Heart pounding in her chest, she managed not to jump when it finally burst through the door. It opened its face and roared.

Vickie and Argyle began to fire immediately. The force of the bullets stunned it for a moment, and it flew back into the mirror that was hanging in the room. Shards of glass fell onto the floor. It only pissed it off. Argyle's weapon ran out of bullets, or it jammed, she wasn't sure. Either way, he tossed it aside and threw his entire body on top of Max's.

"You have to get to me before you get to her, asshole!" Argyle yelled as its claws swiped at his leg, causing him to bleed.

Vickie kept firing, but she ran out of bullets, too. The demogorgon roared again and moved closer, stumbling on the glass. It was bent down at an odd angle now. She saw a shard of glass on the ground and swiped it up immediately. Vickie used the hospital bed as a jumping off point and wrapped herself around its back. She plunged the glass into its neck, not caring that it was also cutting into her hand. Vickie screamed as she stabbed the thing in the neck repeatedly. She did a lot of damage, but it wasn't what stopped it or made it collapse. She fell to the ground with it, and a moment later, everything started shaking. Vickie moved to sit against the hospital bed, Argyle sliding down to sit next to her. She took Argyle's hand with her cut up one and held onto it tightly despite the pain. The shaking stopped a few minutes later.

"Do you think it's over?" Argyle whispered.

"I hope so," Vickie said. "I really hope this means it's done."

"The demogorgon is dead, so I think so," he replied.

"God, my hand is fucked up," Vickie whimpered.

"Yeah, so is my leg," Argyle said.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we? I think I know what this means now," Vickie said. "We're what Steve and Robin are, I think. What's that word. . .it's completely fallen out of my head."

"I think you're in shock, man," Argyle said. "So am I. I could go for some purple palm tree delight right about now."

"Yeah, me too," Vickie said and paused. "Wait, what's that?"

"Weed," he replied.

"Ah, never had any. . .always wanted to try, though," Vickie said.

"I'll show you the ropes," Argyle said.

"Thanks," Vickie said and winced.

"Platonic!" Argyle exclaimed.

"That's it," she giggled.

"I can't believe that I had to come to Indiana in the middle of Apocalypse to find my platonic soulmate," Argyle said.

"I feel like that should be on a shirt," she said and winced again. "God, my hand!"

"I have two good ones. I'll let you use my other one as long as you give it back," he said.

"Done. As long as you are willing to use my leg and give it back to me when you're done," Vickie replied.

They both burst into laughter, which is how the others found them after they came screaming down the hallway with news that they had won. They froze at the sight of them laughing and looked in confusion at the pair. Steve and Robin seemed to somehow get it, though, smiling at them in understanding. The smile slipped off of Robin's face when she saw Vickie's hand.

"Oh, my God! Vickie, your hand!" Robin exclaimed.

"I'm fine now that you're here," Vickie said as Robin knelt down next to her.

"Argyle! Your leg!" Jonathan exclaimed as he rushed over to him.

"All I need is a little bit of purple palm tree delight, and I'm good to go, man," Argyle said. "Also, Vickie wanted to try some."

"What the fuck? Who's there? It's fucking dark. . .can someone turn on the lights?" Max's voice startled everyone.

Lucas was by her bedside in an instant, jumping over the dead demogorgon to get to her.

"I'm here, Max," Lucas said.

"Lucas. . .?" Max asked. "Fuck, I'm blind, aren't I?"

"I'm here, Max," Lucas whispered as he placed his hand on her cheek. "I'm here."

The next morning, Vickie had woken up before anyone else. They were all at Steve's house, the base of operations doubling as a shelter as well. She was sitting in the kitchen, staring at her bandaged hand that was resting on the island. She wiped the tears away with her unbandaged hand, and then she hurried to clean her face when she heard familiar voices coming closer.

"I really think you're doing it on purpose, Robin," Steve said as he walked into the kitchen.

"My mother herself told you that I've been kicking in my sleep since the womb. You were warned," Robin said, following him.

"Whatever, I'm up now," Steve said. "Oh, hey, Vickie. Are you an early riser, or does your dad kick in his sleep, too?"

"No," Vickie giggled. "By the way, thanks for letting us stay here."

"You're welcome. The more the merrier. Although, I wish it were under better circumstances," Steve said.

Vickie burst into tears and threw herself into Robin's arms.

"I dreamed you were eaten by a demogorgon, and I couldn't save you!" Vickie sobbed. "And I never got to tell you how much you mean to me that I like you how I like boys, which I guess means I also like women. It's weird but a good kind of weird, you know. I mean, I should have known when I kept pausing on Phoebe Cates's boobs, you know?"

"You know, I'm going to go. . .somewhere else. Uh, I'm cool with it, by the way, Vickie," Steve said. "I'm bisexual too."

He left the kitchen. Vickie pulled back and stared at Robin.

"I'm bisexual?" Vickie asked.

"If that's what sounds right to you. . .I'm a lesbian," Robin said. "I like you how I've always liked girls. It's weird but a good kind of weird."

"You like me?" Vickie asked softly, sniffling.

"I really do. You absolutely drive me crazy in a good way, and I like the way you laugh, especially when I make you laugh. I like the fact that you have a good heart and you're willing to go out of your way to help people. You went above and beyond for Max. You and Argyle both. I love the fact that you ramble like me because I know I'm not the only one who does it, who's not alone in getting odd looks from people when you just can't stop the words from escaping. You make me lose my words more than anyone, and I honestly could just sit here rambling forever. . .to know that you would be there rambling with me would be a dream come true. You're the girl of my dreams, Vickie Fisher," Robin said.

"You're the girl of my dreams, too, Robin Buckley," she whispered. "You know. . .I think I've finally run out of words."

Robin grinned, picked her up, and set her on the counter before stepping in between her legs. Vickie's heart leaped into her throat, her stomach full of butterflies now. She wrapped her arms around Robin's neck and drew her in for a kiss. Her lips molded against Robin's perfectly, her lips as soft as she thought they'd be. There were so many good things to do with your mouth. . .talking, kissing. . .oh, she definitely liked kissing Robin. A euphoric feeling filled her up, from her toes to her stomach to the top of her head. She wrapped her legs around Robin, her hand running through her hair, and nibbled on Robin's lip. Vickie smirked when she let out a moan. Everything around them no longer existed. It was just Robin and Vickie wrapped up in each other. Robin. Robin. Robin. It was the only word floating around in her head. Suddenly, the door to the kitchen burst open.

"Oh! You got the girl!" Argyle said cheerfully. "Way to go, my dude!"

Argyle and Jonathan stood in the kitchen with Steve breathing heavily behind them. Vickie noticed that Argyle was holding Jonathan's hand.

"I see you got the boy," Vickie grinned.

"Hell yeah!" Argyle exclaimed and high fived her. "Well, we'll get out of your hair. Jonathan had a bad dream, so we came in here for a glass of water."

"Oh, don't feel like you have to leave. The kitchen is a common area," Vickie said.

"What are you guys doing up so early? I mean, besides making out in the kitchen," Jonathan said.

"I had a bad dream, and apparently Robin kicks Steve in her sleep," Vickie said.

She looked at Robin and smiled, loving how flushed the other woman looked. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Robin grinned.

"I don't think I'll be able to get back to sleep," Robin said.

They all gathered around the island, and for a moment, there were no words needed. It was just the feeling of being around each other, knowing that you weren't alone after everything you've been through. Sometimes words were needed, and sometimes they weren't. Vickie enjoyed the feeling of having Robin in her arms. They didn't talk or ramble. . .they had the rest of their lives to do that. Vecna was dead, Hawkins was saved, and his victims freed from his grasp. Eddie's name would soon be cleared. Yeah, people were dead, Max was blind but life constantly showed you that things could always be worse. Vickie felt like they could get through this together. She could fight the nightmares, knowing that she had her newfound family by her side. Strange how quickly that happened.

[eldritch-queern-magicat]

I was looking for something completely unrelated in the DID tags and I happened upon your post about dronification for DID. It's been something I've been thinking about for a long time! I was amazed to see another system talking about it. I have theorized that something like this could be helpful in stabilizing my system and getting things done. Would you have any resources for a system looking to get started with this?

So for most of this, I’m gonna have to go over what I’ve learned in the process of doing everything. A lot of what I’ve been doing was cobbled together from multiple things over the course of about a decade of meditation, hypnosis for fun, and general trance practice. I do also have a very solid background in a childhood full of projecting my internal maladaptive daydreaming shenanigans outside of my mind in my very rural neighborhoods because I didn’t have any friends around, often for miles. It’s also probably the ADHD.

You’ll probably be able to tell I was given a lot of time and space to think about things on my own. That’s what I had rather than much of a social life. I had far too much time to philosophize. I’ve often felt like the Thinker statue at the Smithsonian. Just sitting there, wrapped up in my own thoughts. Alternatively, engaging in stories in any available form.

So pardon the whole essay, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else really talk about being a drone as a system, either, as a method of healing. For a lot of these things, I’ve had to learn almost entirely through direct experience. So I’m honestly really excited to talk about it more. This ended up getting much longer than expected, too. It’s sort of a stream of thoughts that I tried to organize a bit. I also haven’t written very many things in far too long. So I let myself get a bit carried away and go into some of the details. Plus I really want to recognize just how much we managed to get through in what still feels like too short a timeline.

I also used to email lengthy, semi-organized rambling novels back and forth with at least one person. This is going to be similar to that. It’s also why I miss college very deeply. I’m a big fan of academic studies and analysis. My attention span is getting better again.

I will slip between singular and plural pronouns somewhat seamlessly. The logic is that when I use singular pronouns, it’s the whole system as a singular unit, without dividing certain things because it’s simply not relevant. Otherwise, plural pronouns are for when differentiating all the nuance is relevant.

The hypnosis files online

I like to lurk on the dronification subreddit, but it’s not especially active. The only reason I don’t interact is largely because I’m wary of interaction of that kind in general, given where I’m still at in recovery. Since most of dronification is about altered consciousness, hypnosis is the most common method of getting into that mental space of non-identity.

You can find some pretty general drone hypnosis videos on youtube, but I’ve seen people in both the dronification and the erotic hypnosis subreddits very frequently recommend soundgasm. WarpMyMind is an archive of files from many different people, some premium and some free. I haven’t looked very recently, but I know they have files for just about everything. There are also hypnotists with their own websites with exclusive content or just stuff too spicy for the algorithm. Some of those websites also have spiral makers, if you’re into that.

But to be honest, I don’t explore very much anymore, and I’m hesitant to recommend any one person or another because I don’t know what’s going on with hypnotist discourse and frankly just don’t have the energy to spare for it. The one exception is a youtube video shared on a sideblog that hasn’t totally been connected with the rest, but one you can find if you look at the drone sideblog’s pinned post. I haven’t used it lately, because of personal things around the holidays.

Either way, choose what you listen to with care and allow your mind to bend suggestions in whatever way you’re most comfortable with. Make sure a file does exactly what it says it’s supposed to, and nothing more. Jump into the middle of a file and preview the contents just to be safe, honestly. Look for transcripts of any given audio. And don’t be afraid to stop for a while if things go south at any point and come out of hypnotic trance, and figure out what triggered what. It’s incredibly likely you’ll stumble across things you didn’t see before that you’ll need to sort through. On top of just being a mess that needs cleaned up in the first place, you’ll develop trust a lot faster if you let others slow down as needed and not just rush in.

The drone-state of mind

This actually requires specifically and intentionally entering a state of depersonalization, just to be entirely clear on what you’re doing. But the key point is that you’re actually embracing it in a safe environment, set with rules of behavior and anything you can think of as reasonable fail-safes in case you need to act immediately for any reason. Because the interesting thing about dealing with any form of dissociation is that to heal from it, you need to have some form of control over it. By actually taking control of how you depersonalize or otherwise dissociate, you learn how to keep yourself grounded in the present reality better. A way to hide your face is incredibly helpful when you’re letting go of individual identity, but I’ve also found that it’s not strictly necessary if you can dissociate hard enough already.

You should put together a document beforehand that you can come to a collective agreement on. It doesn’t have to be fully comprehensive at the start. Just start with the basics and develop it from there. This will be your instruction manual, or whatever you choose to call it. Make however many copies you think you’ll need, because starting over any on kind of document isn’t fun.

Pick a single, consistent style of language to use for your drone-state that isn’t overly complex. Keep your instructions clear and concise, so that even in your lowest energy states, they’re easy to understand. It’s been a lot of ‘if ___, do ___’ and explaining the terms used, as well as the command phrases you go with. You should also make a habit of studying those instructions, and definitely do so as a drone. Because as a drone, that’s literally the only thing you’ll have any attention on in the moment, and since you’re in a very altered state of consciousness, it sets into your mind a lot easier. And don’t forget to consistently review your instructions, because things change and you will find yourself adapting them over time.

If you have someone you trust supporting your recovery in the external world, like a friend or family member or other care provider, you should probably give them at least a rough idea of your new method of stabilizing yourself. This can be phrased however you think is the most appropriate. I explain it, when talking about it, more or less that I’m treating my mind similarly to a computer, because the people around me know that I like digital technology. I already wear earbuds at least half the time, especially out of the house. It’s just a thing because I love music a lot. The right music literally helps me regulate my emotions. I don’t even mention the specifics, just that I’m using technological framework to understand how healing works for me. I halfheartedly blame my parents, and my dad in particular, because they were both nerds and tried to keep up with technology. Dad’s still at it now, 66 years old. He likes to be the Mr. Spock type usually, so emphasizing that I’m trying to balance my emotions with logical understanding works really well.

A long-term process

This will inevitably take a lot of time, depending on how unstable you are now. Do not try to put together a clear time frame to have this done by. I promise, you’ll take a lot longer than you initially expect to. I’ve been taking a break for about two months now because the holidays tanked my own stability, and I’m still picking myself back up from it. Especially when things are hard, give yourself the grace to slow down so you don’t overheat the system. It won’t help to try and speed-run becoming a perfect drone. *semantics mode* Perfection may be perpetual motion, but only at a rate that won’t destroy that which is in motion.

And to be honest, we literally just stumbled our way into using this to stabilize ourselves. So for us, this just started out with only a small cluster of parts bumbling around with often mature kinds of hypnosis fantasies partially in an attempt to work out the mess that is our sexuality and relationship with gender. At least, after a while. Until then, it was purely for escapism. We experimented with a lot of different things along the way, slowly progressing through different types of objectification from dolls to statues and whatever. Slowly, we did start to form ideas about what we wanted specifically, because we noticed how easy it had become for us.

We didn’t actually really consider being a drone until 2022. And then I’m pretty sure that was just me, as a specific part. Others slowly came around with time, waiting to make sure it wouldn’t be some disaster. And I’m not gonna lie, even I wasn’t so sure it would work out all that well. But to be honest, I feel like combining healing with pleasure is more effective than many people realize.

From my perspective, this is largely because of the dominant work culture. On that, the standard model of specifically US American Protestant work ethic is obsessed with work sucking so bad and being miserable. But you should enjoy the process of healing. If being a drone makes it easier and brings you joy, and you generally know what you’re in for along the way, then I don’t see the issue. People just get all worked up because it’s not considered normal to use a specific kink to heal trauma. It’s literally just purity culture bullshit, and just outright shaming people for being happy and making the best of a shitty situation. I had to spend ages working through that faulty logic about recovery with my therapist, because the assumption that it’s an entirely painful process is very prevalent in society. Sometimes it’s going to hurt, but then at other points, it should feel more like the best damn thing you ever did. Thinking it’s always about how much you’ve gotta drag yourself up and not enjoying the peaks you’ve already reached will only hold you back.

So with all that bumbling around, it only really became a thing to help with functioning in real life last February, and that was largely Lilu’s idea while we were fused. That was simply just about functioning through pain and general mental issues, and setting solid routines. More apparent efforts to integrate wouldn’t come until at least late summer when other parts more preoccupied with keeping things running behind the scenes took an actual interest. It took even more time to get more parts onboard with the whole thing, and we still have many that haven’t.

It was at least partially a joke, but Pandemonum was the one to suggest using the drone-state to help organize our mind better, with an offhand library comment. Because somewhere, I think with Zemyx and Isaac, the idea stuck. One of Pandemonum’s less present fragments, Bran, hangs out a lot in the library. It’d be easy for an idea like that to slip into the library crowd. Through a lot of convoluted events, such as Lilu directly delivering a challenge of shenanigans to Galaco (Sir) and Cyan, and then others finding it to be infectiously fun. The more parts we pulled in since late August, the more appealing using the drone-state to organize our mind became, so we could at least integrate our memories and straighten our life out. Aria emerged with a new form and gave us a new sense of psychological stability across connected parts.

And in external world, we were learning to get more involved in the community we live in, and get to know other people better. So by the end of the summer, we were really learning how to communicate with other people, as well. We found an incredibly supportive group of people from kinda all over the state I live in, who we share a lot of ideals with. So we were taking our growing social skills and using what we’d learned to reconnect to each other. The individual traumas getting strung back together into something intelligible was hard, but we had learned how to reach out to others and were able to get the help we needed.

One thing led to another, and our childhood friend picked us up to see Wonka at the mall on December 15th, to cheer us up. Alexiel decided on leaving the metaphorical doors wide open to broadcast the whole movie to anyone it could hypothetically reach. It was amazing. We even pulled parts out that were buried in the absolute depths, and got an even clearer picture of our earliest memories, psychological or physical ones, than we’d put together before.

Then, because we’ve been practicing radical acceptance for each other, Joshua decided to try and chip away at his own barriers. He’s a liminal part, one of the few able to pass between sidesystems with any amount of ease, because he enforced the rules directly the most. And it, ah, triggered a whole refresh of our childhood brainwashing that came right out of left field. It quickly became a situation of damage control when he began struggling to stay where he wanted to be by his own focus.

It was ultimately a lack of communication on our part, so we’ve been largely on break from being a drone for various things, but we had already been on a slow decline for a while. We simply had to entirely focus on stabilizing parts that had been refreshed in the weeks before Christmas. The reason our damage control actually went so well was we already proved our own competence at the beginning of December.

We were away from home at a membership assembly with the previously mentioned people from around our home state, and Ash managed to have his wits together enough to not worry about thinking and just stepped in to prevent an already stressful interpersonal situation from getting any worse. At dinner in the middle of our own meal, to the sound of someone falling out of their chair during a family dispute almost halfway across the cafeteria. It went surprisingly well and he was very clearly in control of himself the entire time. I think we’re all still processing that one.

And even if you don’t end up dealing with a lot of different kinds of complex trauma, it takes time to fully integrate all that you represent into that single network. We ran into a lot of errors along the way, as well has having to deal with restricted access to a lot of what kept us so dissociated. A lot of very explicit trust is involved because you’re basically backing everything of you up on what amounts to a shared cloud storage or server. For those of us that keep the connection running on a permanent basis, it also allows us to peek through their subsystems. It was how we started mapping even more parts to realize, yes, we do have several hundreds of parts simply because of, well, everything. But the silver lining is that we’ve finally gotten to clean the skeletons out of our closet and lay them down to rest and decompose. We’re learning what to actually do instead of dissociate from the situation completely.

Some final thoughts

Another key part of making all this work is that we’ve agreed to function without a singular point of authority or hive leader, despite how it might otherwise seem. Any shenanigans that do incorporate any sort of hierarchy are purely for shits and giggles. You’re agreeing to equal representation and responsibilities, in accordance with what you’re ready for. This will result in more equal access to your skills across those of you taking part. Think a very patient Borg, just without a queen (I got a fair bit of exposure to Borg propaganda in the last year or so because I follow someone who simps for them so hard and I initially just followed her for her general Star Trek posts).

The main reason I conceptualize it as robotic and digital is because it acts as a system based around at least speculative science, in contrast with the extreme religious nature of my trauma (and it brings really nerdy joy to do it this way). What I’m doing is conceptualized as altering my literal programming because it gives me a way to intentionally recondition myself with a healthier understanding of myself and the world. I’m a concrete thinker, so I have to conceptualize the process very literally before it produces any really tangible results.

Almost counter-intuitively given how technological it comes off as, it’s like a kind of magic. To explain it in a more mundane way, it’s a combination of logic, consistent methodology, conceptualization, and the placebo effect from your belief in that process. This is why reinforcing your conditioning with written instructions regularly is important, because you need to exercise those mental muscles as best as you can.

I tend to rely, perhaps hilariously, on things like western astrology and tarot as a structure for self-reflection. Engaging in rituals that harm no one are actually pretty important, because they’re methods of grounding yourself. In a way, dronification is also a ritual. You’re altering your state of consciousness very intentionally for personal fulfillment, to enhance your life experiences.

And I can’t overstate how important it is to remember that you don’t have to be progressing on a linear path all the time. Recovery isn’t a two-dimensional picture, and neither is getting the hang of being a good drone. Any changes you’re trying to make to your lifestyle will take time to settle into.

Take care and good luck

I wish you the best, and if you have any other questions, you’re free to ask. I probably won’t have an answer for everything, because I’m pretty much just making it up as I go along. But I’ll go as far as my logic and intuition can take me and try to point you in a decent direction. There is, of course, an amazing podcast episode from Off The Cuffs that I listened to in March of last year. It’s specifically episode 241--Unit 4015, which also helped me understand the appeal of the specific niche that dronification is.

I honestly wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it’s just generally attractive to people with dissociation, but that’s also, at this time, a purely personal speculation. You don’t have to take it seriously if you’d rather not. I’m just starting to ramble even more at this point. I really appreciate the ask and getting a chance to talk about the process. Going into detail about everything I’ve done with this helps me to process it and understand where I am now as opposed to before deciding to experiment. Honestly, thanks.

-Era 🍎😺

[marypsue]

So, yesterday I did say that I might post an origfic sample if I got no questions...but I never said that I wouldn't post a sample if I did get questions. Want almost 2100 words of navel-gazey rambling about how a returned King Arthur might be manufactured into a comic-book-style superhero (and how he might feel about all of that), from the perspective of a British government employee, written by a Canadian who's never been there? Yeah you do, here goes.

...

When Agent Jane Carmichael had joined MI5, this was not what she’d expected to be doing.

Of course, it was the domestic Security Service, but still, she’d expected espionage. Intrigue. Complicated geopolitical…something. She’d dared to hold out hope for a slinky red dress and a thigh holster. She’d even anticipated all the paperwork. Well, most of the paperwork. Some of the paperwork, certainly.

She had not expected to find herself sat beside the legendary Arthur, King of the Britons, awakened from centuries of ensorcelled slumber to come to the world’s aid in its hour of greatest need, stuffed into a cramped Mini Cooper with the fabled sword Excalibur in its jewelled and enchanted sheath poking her in the kidneys through the seat as she inched through the solid wall of traffic that was Piccadilly in the morning rush.

Still, Agent Jane Carmichael was nothing if not a professional. She’d taken stranger things in stride, though admittedly not many of them. And there was always a small chance that this would be the mission where she’d require the red dress.

It would help if she had any idea how to make small talk with a mediaeval warlord, though.

“Do you expect to find it’s really Morgan that the Motherboard’s captured?” Jane asked, as she signalled to merge despite the furious honking that rose all around her. Like a whole flock of ducks disturbed from the placid surface of a pond on some rolling estate. Jane let her thoughts turn briefly, wistfully, to the DVD of Emma waiting for her at home for all of about six seconds before taking both a deep breath and the barest sliver of an opportunity to merge. The honking grew in both volume and anger, but they’d made the inside lane.

Jane realised, mid-quiet triumph, that Arthur had been a little too silent for a little too long.

As though he’d read her mind, though, he chose the very moment of realisation to speak. “Who can say? Morgan’s mind weaves patterns that no man may see until they are fully worked.”

Jane took advantage of the fact that traffic had ground to a fuming standstill as they came up on Piccadilly Circus to steal a glance at the man sat beside her. In some ways, Arthur looked nothing like she would’ve expected an ancient legend come to life to look, while in others, she couldn’t believe she’d ever imagined him any other way. The trim the department stylist had given his dark, wavy locks and ruddy beard managed to look both modern and timeless, accentuating the narrow nose, high cheekbones, and proud jaw that Brand had gleefully pronounced looked like they belonged to ‘the lovechild of Chris Evans and Richard Armitage’. It was a regal face, almost haughty, but the brown eyes set under the deep brow were warm and kind, if a little sad.

He was, however, shorter than Jane had expected.

Stockier, too, though Jane had to admit she’d been watching rather a lot of trashy superhero films in preparation for the role she’d found herself thrown into. It wasn’t as though anyone had had a better handbook to offer her. Her immediate superior had used the word ‘unprecedented’ no fewer than seventeen times while briefing Jane, before she’d even been allowed to meet Arthur, before all hell had broken loose.

At any rate. No one had abs like the film superheroes in real life. Not even the closest thing the real world had to an actual, genuine, bona fide superhero. And Arthur did come pretty damn close to being an actual, genuine, bona fide superhero, pardon Jane’s French.

The Motherboard, on the other hand…well, Jane was simply not going to go there. She had extremely mixed feelings about calling what was almost certainly a millionaire CEO’s vanity project a ‘superhero’. She could think of a few things Elin Brand might have done toward saving the world that would have been more useful than building a fancier gun –

Arthur shifted in his seat, and Jane managed not to start. She’d – not forgotten he was there, but let herself be distracted. She should be better than that.

“Seldom have I known Morgan’s mind,” Arthur said, slowly. Jane turned to look at him, but he didn’t meet her eye, looking instead out the window at the mess of traffic as though he were watching a David Attenborough special on the migratory habits of the domestic English office-worker. “They tell me that she spirited me to Avalon, after I was dealt my death-blow. To heal me. To keep me, until the world had need of me again.”

Given that he was there, now, magic scabbard and all, Jane was inclined to believe whoever ‘they’ were. “So it would seem,” she said, laying on the horn when a lorry with a load of chickens under a tarpaulin tried to merge into standstill traffic ahead of her. Jane wondered if they were lost.

Arthur still didn’t look at her. “Do they know that it was only through Morgan’s treachery that such a wound could strike me at all? Do they know that my own sister had turned against me, in those late days, she who had been dear to me as mine own eyes? Do they know that Morgan had as her sole ambition, for I know not truly how long, to bring Camelot and even Britain itself to ruin if it meant it might bring me to my knees?”

“We have a number of myths and novels about it,” Jane offered.

“Do any of them tell why she might do such things?” Arthur demanded, turning to Jane at last, his dark eyes flashing fire, and for a moment Jane realised she could see the family resemblance.

“Not really, no,” she admitted, and Arthur sank back in his seat, as though she’d stuck him with a pin and all his air was leaking out.

“Nothing is simple,” he said, heavily, and Jane felt a twinge of sympathy jab at her heart.

“It must all have been very confusing to wake to -”

Arthur pinned her with a stare, and then flashed a wry smile. “It was none the better for which to fall to slumber.”

When Jane didn’t say anything, not wanting to betray her lack of understanding, Arthur ran a hand through his hair, turning a wistful smile on the glove box. Jane allowed herself to be momentarily distracted by – and envious of – the way those dark waves fell perfectly back to frame his face. Did the man have any bad angles?

“Camelot was…a dream of mine,” Arthur said, and it sounded almost like an elegy. “And like all dreams, it did not survive the waking world intact.”

Jane thought, briefly, of the halls of Parliament, of her badge tucked inside her black suit jacket. “I understand.”

“Do you really,” Arthur said, turning back to look out the window at the city. It didn’t sound like a genuine question.

“I believe I do.” The car in front of Jane pulled forward, but she waited, letting the lorry full of chickens creep in ahead of her. “You set out to do something good, and it all gets…complicated.”

“If by ‘complicated’, you mean it ends knee-deep in blood and shit, your friends lost or turned foe, your own queen a traitor, everything you built in a heap at your feet,” Arthur said, absently. “The men you united tired of peace and slavering for a taste of blood – and not any blood, but your own. All turning upon one another like the wyrms at the root of the tower, bringing down anything and everything built upon them. If that is what you mean by ‘complicated’…”

Jane nodded, once. “Politics.”

Arthur sighed, with a weary but good-humoured half-smile. “Politics.”

He drew a deep breath before turning to face Jane. “If – when we find Morgan. Should she wish – should she have had another change of heart. Should there yet be some chance -”

“You think she might still come back from this,” Jane said, unable to totally keep the note of disbelief out of her voice. “Need I remind you that she did try to kill you. And me. And the Queen, and the rest of London -”

“I know she will not – ‘come back from this’, should she be tried and condemned at once. Should she have not the blessing of your monarch.” Arthur’s stare was a little too knowing. “Should there not be watchful eyes kept upon her, that she may not play some trick or lay some snare without our foreknowledge. And, of course, should she not prove of some use to your…MI5.”

Jane turned, at last, to look Arthur straight in the eye, giving him her full attention. He looked back, steady, his gaze unwavering. Not pleading. Not even challenging. Not exactly. But hopeful. Though that hope seemed tempered.

Some journo hack, early on, had looked at Arthur’s medieval chivalry and early ignorance of modern technology and come to the conclusion that Arthur was…naïve. As perfect and simple and innocent as those of his legends that were suitable for children. The newsmedia had run with that interpretation, subtly encouraged by the Security Service. After all, it so complemented the untarnished, apolitical image they wished to put forward. The legendary king, symbol of so many ideals, could be easily presumed to be a blind idealist himself.

But only, Jane thought, mentally adjusting her assessment, if you didn’t know him.

She met those eyes, dark and sad and wise, and said, “She’s the only one left. That’s it, isn’t it.”

Arthur broke her gaze, turning his face away.

Jane turned her attention back to the road, inching the Mini forward. “You should know,” she said, feeling a curious distance from the words, “MI5 is looking into tracing Merlin, as well. I don’t know that they have any concrete leads, or anything really other than a fancy, but the consensus seems to be that, if you and Morgan could both survive for centuries in what seems to be some sort of alternate dimension, another magic-user might have done the same.”

That wrung, surprisingly, the dregs of a smile out of Arthur. “So they accept, now, that it is magic that Morgan works?”

The government scientists were still calling it by a parade of pseudo-quantum physics jargon, which Jane, who had seen Morgan in action up close and personal, couldn’t take seriously at all. If one could not adjust one’s worldview to include the unbelievable when presented with direct physical evidence of it, how could one call oneself any kind of scientist?

Jane admitted, “They seem to have proceeded on from trying to disprove it to trying to understand it.”

Arthur said it for her. “To be able to counter it. Or replicate it.”

Jane regarded him for a moment. MI5 had been glad to push the ‘superhero’ angle onto Arthur, render him politically toothless. The legendary king, symbol of so many ideals, was less inconvenient, easier to control, as a symbol. Less complicated than actually dealing with the intricacies of having two living monarchs, neither of whom had surrendered the crown. But it was difficult to forget, speaking to him, that Arthur had very much been a politician. The politician.

“Yes,” Jane said. “They think it would be…prudent, to have such a power at our disposal, so long as our enemies also do. No doubt they’d leap at the opportunity to study Morgan and her abilities.” She bit the inside of her cheek, tightening her grip on the wheel for a moment before relaxing it again. “It might even be possible to persuade those who make such decisions that Morgan, if willing, would make a valuable operative.”

Arthur made no reply to that.

“If willing,” he said, ruefully, after what felt like an ice age had come and gone.

“If willing,” Jane agreed.

“You must think me an addled, sentimental old fool.”

“I think,” Jane said, shortly, putting her blinker on to take a right, “that she’s your sister."

"Half-sister."

"Fine. Half-sister. And that the both of you are rather strangers in a strange land.”

“A land that should be home,” Arthur said, and the bitter sorrow in it surprised even Jane. Arthur caught her eye with a sidelong look, a flicker of dark anger crossing his face before he shook his head and gathered his composure. “I beg your pardon. This world has been nothing but welcoming to me.”

Jane opened her mouth, unsure of what she was going to say.

As it turned out, though, she never got the chance to find out.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

This is probably random... but I wonder if you have any headcanons regarding Sabrina and the apothecary in Castle Village? 👀 I don't know why, but she's giving a witchy vibe/aesthetic, and it's pretty cute. There's a black cat on the roof of the apothecary, but that's just a thought. I think she's nice because of the way she spoke to the farmer.

I headcanon my farmer worked in that apothecary with her as an apprentice, and I feel like Jadu might be involved with the apothecary, too. Hm, pardon my rambling! Sorry if this isn't a good ask.

Have a good day!

- 🌺

Original character as Sabrina's assistant in Castle Village? Interesting 👀💕

To be honest, I don't have a lot of headcanons because Sabrina only appeared as a teaser. Although on the other hand, the same Jadu had only a few dialogues, and we all have already written so many headcanons on it, heh. Thanks for the ask, flower anon, and enjoy! 😊🫰

_________________________________________

Some random SVE Sabrina headcanons:

She loves growing plants. Sabrina, as the chief healer in Castle Village, obviously takes care of the herbs and flowers in the greenhouse for healing elixirs, ointments and cures. But beyond that, her room is full of pots with various ferns, ornamental lemons, orchids, roses and other plants. Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom - there isn't a room in her house that doesn't have a few pots of beautiful flowers or bright green plants. Sabrina loves them all and has given each plant its own unique name.

Sabrina is the one of the strongest witches in Castle Village. Although her main magic is healing wounds, she is second only to her counterpart Camilla in strength and number of combat spells. Sabrina is the kindest of souls, but there was once a case of trespassing in the Village where she showed that you will regret everything if you ever dare to piss her off. Better for the young adventurers not to know in detail what happened to those invaders after the battle was over.

Camilla and Sabrina are best friends. And the ultimate gossips. When the two witches want to relax together, it's often over tea/coffee/wine, delicious sweets, and the latest rumours they've heard. Moreover, Camilla is the only one Sabrina shares all sorts of secrets with. Who fell in love with whom and who had a fight with whom, events at the Ministry of Magic, rumours from other Guilds and so on - everything will be discussed by these two besties.

Has a beef with her parents/guardians over her choice of profession. As I mentioned earlier, Sabrina is considered to be one of the strongest witches in Castle Village with great potential and knowledge of combat spells. Except that the girl herself preferred to heal rather than maim, so she went to study to be a healer, much to the disapproval of her family/relatives. They pissed her off for so long, demanding that she drop everything and go back to the academy to become a battle witch, that Sabrina stopped talking to them.