#so it certainly wouldn’t be weird to do it would actually be more normal

[hanzajesthanza]

wait and he was also digging up mandrakes in an elven cemetery when they found him.

what the hell, regis. UNESCO (United Nonhumans Elven Scientific and Cultural Organization) is going to come for your ass sooner or later

regis casually suggesting they desecrate tir ná beá arainne, an ancient and sacred elven mausoleum, just because he wanted to see what was up inside

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [3]

during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!

But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.

Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.

But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.

Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.

he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.

now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.

far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.

“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking” 

“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”

there is a pause …  he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.

“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.

“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”

“oh you simply must come visit!” 

well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?

things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.

their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.

but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.

There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?

Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.

Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t. 

He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.

so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.

It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.

it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere

Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy. 

And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.

Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?

He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.

he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.

Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.

If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions. 

Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.

[misstycloud]

Yandere cowboy x fem.reader

Yandere! Cowboy who’s the towns sweetheart. How can he not be? He helps every troubled soul he comes across, doesn’t matter who they are. He works hard every day to easy the load of providing for the family, he’s not a child anymore, of course he’ll do anything he can to help out! Besides, who wouldn’t fall for those muscles and pearly smile? You’d be crazy if you didn’t.

Yandere! Cowboy who you meet the first day of your ‘vacation’ to stay at your grandparents. Your parents though you’d been acting up the last weeks so they decided it was best to send you away for the summer, much to your dismay. Now you’d have to text your friends that you can’t hang out at all. Damn it. Being forced to stay in a in-the-middle-of-nowhere town definitely wasn’t your top priority. There was practically no service and nothing to do all summer. You’ll be bored out of your mind unless you manage to find something to entertain you. Luckily, there does appear to be something worthy of your attention- or rather, someone. It’ll certainly make things more interesting.

Yandere! Cowboy who you think is kinda cute, if not a little weird. He’s no doubt very different compared to the boys in the city- speaking in that special accent, wearing worn overalls, sweat at his forehead everytime you meet and practical thinking above all else. Still, you find yourself intrigued by his contrasting personality.

Yandere! Cowboy who is enchanted by you. You’re just so….wonderful. Funny enough, he also thinks you’re different, which interests him. Normally, he isn’t the type to brag and is quite humble, but he isn’t blind. He can see the way the girls in town drool over him. He knows he’s attractive. But you, you don’t fall over your feet whenever you gets a glimpse of him. You don’t stutter over every word while talking to him- in fact, you’re as cool as a cucumber. It almost seems like you’re flirting with him.

Yandere! Cowboy who notices you way your eyes sparkle when you speak of your interests. He starts thinking about the way you sound when laugh, how you pout when you’re frustrated and what you look like when you’re sad. It’s all beautiful. You are beautiful. Soon, it’s not only that he focuses on. Now, every time you’re walking ahead of him, he pays attention to the curve of your ass, how your hips sway when you walk, and suddenly he finds himself having to adjust his pants.

Yandere! Cowboy who you enter a special relationship with. You’re more than friends but less than actual lovers- that’s how you see it at least and you believed that’s what yan! Cowboy wanted, too. You two spend all your free time together in each others arms and going on cute dates around town and in the forest.

Yandere! Cowboy who wishes to marry you. You’re his perfect match! It must be fate that you ended up in their little town. He’d give you a big beautiful ring- he’s saved up quite a bit during his years of working, so he can easily afford it- and let you have whatever wedding you imagine. He’d make sure it’s exactly how you want it. Then, he’ll personally build you a house. Of course, before he starts working on that, he’ll need to know if you want a porch, what kind of shutter you want and what colour should the exterior be, would you like a fireplace?

Yandere! Cowboy who can’t believe it; you’re leaving? You say that summer is over and you don’t have to stay there with your grandparents anymore. You almost seem…relieved. No, that can’t be it. You love him! Right? Or was the connection he felt just one-sided?

“Sorry, you weren’t meant to catch feelings for me or anything. I just wanted to have fun, pass the time y’know.

“So I didn’t meant anything to you? Not even a little bit?…”

“I do like you. But I live in the city and my stay here was never going to be permanent. Like I said, I’m sorry it got a little too serious.”

“…….”

“Yeah, I gotta go now. I wish you well though, see ya.”

Yandere! Cowboy who spiraled after you left. You’ve dug yourself too deep in him. He can’t imagine going on about his life like you never existed. He thought you could be happy there, even if wasn’t like the big city you were used too, but that was clearly not the case.

If he had to uproot his life and move to be with you, then so be it. He wonders if you’ll be happy to see him again.

[justauthoring]

jerk [3].

because bakugou katsuki is a jerk but he's also unfortunately your soulmate. requested -> me begging for another soulmate fic with bakugou 😔😔🤲🏻 requested by -> anonymous

a/n: something a little happy and fluffy for the episode today :) truthfully, i don't even know what this is...

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

part one. part two.

You liked to think you were good at picking up certain signs.

Bakugou, however, clearly thought the opposite.

U.A. was doing an interactive training program with other schools. This was necessarily anything new, you’ve done them plenty of times now; but what was new was this time you had a soulmate.

Or, rather, you were with your soulmate.

That in of itself was anything new. Lots of people had soulmates and although it was rarer to find yours when you were quite young, as young as you and Bakugou were, it wasn’t unheard of. As you watch the multiple of young heroes in training, just like you, run around, you pick up on the certain singles of bonded pairs.

Two girls walking hand in hand, with beaming smiles on their faces and cheeks rosy from the simple intimacy of their actions. You see a boy pressing a chaste kiss to a girl’s cheek in a corner a few feet away from you, the girl responding with a laugh and half-hearted attempt to bat away the boys wandering lips. Two boys training together on one of the allotted stages, which to any normal gaze looks like nothing special, but you pick up on the way their hearts race and their eyes dance across each other's figures in a burst of excitement because of your quirk.

So, no, you weren’t the only one and certainly not when it came to the world. Of course not.

It was still weird though. At least to you. Bakugou and you have been together for a few months now and at this point you’ve grown used to the relationship. There was even a sense of dependency you felt towards Bakugou, a way that your heart yearned for him in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

The two of you got along great. He made you laugh and smile more than anyone ever had and you seemed to be good at helping him see things through a clearer, calmer lens. There were nights shared together, just the two of you, where hours would pass that felt like seconds of pure bliss as you both simply talked. It was nothing special, if anything it was especially ordinary, but it flooded you with warmth and love and you cherished every second of it.

Things were good. Great.

But in the eyes of others, Bakugou wasn’t a big fan of PDA. He’d do it sometimes; he didn’t mind holding your hand or kissing you quickly after class, things like that. Overall though, his more intimate actions were shared behind closed doors and away from prying eyes and you had no problem with it.

You actually appreciated it. You liked having those special moments where it was just the two of you and no one else. It made them more cherished in your heart.

Bakugou, however, seemed to have no problem with PDA when it came beyond just the eyes of your classmates.

All the different classes had been given a free afternoon; meaning, students were free to choose to focus on whatever they sought best. It was, as Aizawa-sensei explained to your class, an opportunity to better get to know fellow-heroes-in-training and honestly, you’d been very excited at first. There was a group of girls that had quirks you thought meshed well with yours and you’d wanted to talk to them.

That had been the plan.

But Bakugou wouldn’t leave your side! Beyond that, it wasn’t just him hovering nearby, it was him constantly keeping a hand on you and not letting you leave his side. You didn’t necessarily mind if Bakugou came with you until you realized that he seemed to scare every person away from him, which, in turn, meant from you.

“You’re pouting.”

Huffing, you turn away from Bakugou; “I'm annoyed.”

“Is it wrong that I want to spend time with my girlfriend?” Bakugou quirks a challenging brow at you, smirking.

“No,” you roll your eyes. “But you scare everyone away.”

“Oi.”

“It’s true!”

Sighing, there’s an echoed moment of silence before Bakugou frowns down at you. “I’m just worried about you.”

Shifting so his arm is no longer around your waist and rather you’re holding it, you glance up at him; “we’re literally surrounded by a bunch of heroes-in-training.” Then, pausing, you add somewhat spitefully; “which includes me.”

Bakugou just shakes his head; “I know.”

“Katsuki,” you call, reaching forward to brush your fingers across his cheek in the way you know he likes. Instantly, the tension in his face eases; something that never fails to make you smile. “We’re supposed to be mingling.”

He scoffs. “You sound like shitty hair.”

“Because Eijirou is right,” you challenge.

Glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, Bakugou hesitates; “what do they matter? They’re a bunch of extras anyway.”

“I thought we were done calling our friends extras,” you remind.

“They’re not our friends.”

“Katsuki.”

“Fine,” he snaps, face pinched in clear annoyance but a certain frustration in the fact that he knows you’re right. “I’ll leave you and ‘mingle’,” he makes sure to add the air quotes. “But only for an hour. Then I'll find you and we’re gonna do some training.”

“Yes,” you nod, “of course. Naturally.”

Your words are teasing but said with a certain fondness. Bakugou was always training and it was clearly a hobby of his that he wanted to share with you – honestly, sometimes his training sessions were absolute hell but you’d put up with them for his sake.

With a final nod and a kiss, Bakugou stomps off. Distantly, you hear him shouting ‘shitty-hair’ but you figure Kirishima can deal with his clingy ass for an hour while you go and meet some new people. 

And for the first forty minutes, it goes well. You’re bouncing from area to area, meeting new people and chatting with them, even sparring with a few. It’s great. You loved your class and your friends, but it was so interesting getting new perspectives from different people that were training in different ways than U.A. typically did. It was absolutely invigorating and you were reveling in every second of it.

Until you come across a boy named Aoto.

The conversation starts fine; he kind of runs into you but you laugh it off and learn he’s actually from a school located in America that had come down to Japan for this huge hero event. You compliment him on his Japanese, finding it amazing that he nails the pronunciation of words so well and falls into an eased conversation. Then, as the minutes pass by, the conversation starts to shift into a stranger topic.

Aoto asks if you’ve found your soulmate – it’s rather sudden and not something you’re really expecting. Still, you tell him you have and he asks if it was the blonde boy he’s seen glued to your side the entire day; it’s said with a certain edge you’re thrown off by and that’s where you start to grow a little weary.

“Yeah,” you nod slowly. “Katsuki. The way we found out is actually a funny story—”

“Isn’t he the one that the League of Villains took when he was in his first year?”

Your lips are left parted from his sudden interruption, but instantly your eyes narrow at his tone. “The League of Villains kidnapped him,” you say warily, somewhat defensively. “But Katsuki fought to get away and never once even considered their offer to join them—”

“Yeah,” Aoto cuts you off again, dismissing you with a single wave of his hand. “But isn’t he the reason why All Might had to retire too?”

Instantly, all pretense disappears. You’d already been annoyed but your face shifts into something nasty at his insinuation; even more because you knew that was something that still haunted Bakugou to this day. It wasn’t true, of course, but you knew that it still remained on his mind constantly.

“All Might fought to save one of his students,” you hiss, taking a step back from him. “And it isn’t Katsuki's fault the fight ended that way.”

“I don’t know,” Aoto hums, “someone like that? I wouldn’t care if he was my soulmate, I’d stay away from him. He’s quite terrifying too, I’d bet that if given another chance he wouldn’t hesitate to join—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence as he suddenly falls to his knees, clutching his head in pain as he lets out a cry. You step towards him as he does, letting him wallow in pain for a moment longer before letting go. Aoto instantly falls back the second he does, staring up at you in disbelief and fear as you glare down at him; 

“You don’t know the first thing about Katsuki. So don’t pretend you do.”

Aoto just sputters up at you, eyes wide, practically shaking.

Then, a familiar voice calls out; “Y/N?”

You spin, face easing the second you meet Bakugou’s. He’s walking towards you, confused eyes flickering between you and Aoto, who's still on the ground, before Bakugou finally registers the look on your face and instantly, Bakugou’s eyes narrow.

“Did this damn extra do something to you?”

Rushing forward, you catch Bakugou by the arm before he can reach Aoto, pulling him towards you; “Katsuki. Katsuki! It’s fine, it’s okay!”

Bakugou just shakes his head as Aoto stares fearfully up at him, looking near tears.

“No, it’s not,” Bakugou growls, “if he hurt you or said anything—”

Shifting, you press both of your hands against Bakugou’s cheeks, cupping them and forcing him to meet your eyes. He’s panting and his eyes are wild but he instantly focuses on you, gaze softening.

“Let’s just go,” you whisper, “I just wanna spend time with you.”

That catches his attention. All anger wipes from his face instantly and Bakugou is instantly easing in your grasp, face brightening as slowly nods, moving to take your head in his own and threading his fingers through yours. He squeezes your hand, sending one last frightening glance Aoto’s way before walking off, leading you with him.

Then, a few minutes later when it’s just the two of you, Bakugou smirks down at you; 

“Thought you wanted to ‘mingle’.”

Grinning, you shrug; “it’s more fun with you.”

[nyoomerr]

Demon!SY? It's interesting to think of this ridiculous, doting man finding a persona that lets him exist within that culture

i adore all iterations of demon!sy and honestly would love to make a longer fic of it at some point... every version of it is just so tasty, shout out especially to every single person who's done abyssal monster! sy ....

---

When Shen Yuan first realizes the particulars of his transmigration - that is, the fact that he’s a moderately powerful demon in this life - he’s absolutely delighted.

For normal reasons, obviously!! For normal, not-weird reasons!! Like - like the fact that Shen Yuan has the power to help Luo Binghe, as a demon!! Not because of the extra eyes he has, or the too-long limbs, or the scales that glisten in the sun, or three rows of teeth that snap through anything -!

Ahem. Not those things. Just the parts about how Shen Yuan could be useful to Luo Binghe!!

Still, when it comes to actually doing the whole be-useful-to-Binghe thing, it isn’t so simple as waiting around in the demon realm for Luo Binghe to show up before volunteering to be his advisor or whatever. By the time Luo Binghe makes it to the demon realm, he’ll be full steam ahead focusing on conquering and gathering power, and Shen Yuan falling into line wouldn’t really be seen as anything especially useful. 

Shen Yuan wants to help Luo Binghe when it counts, when Luo Binghe will need the help - so naturally, Shen Yuan finds a way into the Endless Abyss.

It’s the perfect plan! Shen Yuan may not know exactly where Luo Binghe gets dropped, but he knows the general topography. On top of that, there are places where the boundary between the Abyss and the human realm is weaker and more prone to tears - if Shen Yuan uses that to map out potential places for the Abyss to open during the Immortal Alliance Conference, and cross references that with what Luo Binghe experienced in the Abyss, then Shen Yuan can certainly find the general area to wait for Luo Binghe in!

And, while he’s waiting, Shen Yuan may as well prepare to be useful! He can make a sturdy little shelter for Luo Binghe to rest and recover in before he has to face the rest of the Abyss - or, wait, should Shen Yuan make more shelters, scattered around the Abyss in the general path from where Luo Binghe will fall all the way to Xin Mo?

Shen Yuan found Xin Mo no problem, after all - of course he wasn’t going to take it, that’s Luo Binghe’s! He just wanted to make sure it was all ready for Luo Binghe when he got there! And really, it isn’t necessary that Luo Binghe fetch the stupid sword from the carcass of a beast, so Shen Yuan can just fetch Xin Mo out of there himself and get it cleaned up, and perhaps put it on a nice little pedestal for Luo Binghe to find later -

Wait, should Shen Yuan just take Xin Mo and have it ready to give to Luo Binghe in the very first little shelter, the one Luo Binghe will stay in after falling into the Abyss? No, of course not, a little bun protagonist like he’ll be when he first falls wouldn’t be ready to wield something as nasty as this toxic sword stinking up Shen Yuan’s yard - the journey through the Abyss is what prepares Luo Binghe for it.

Shen Yuan will just leave Xin Mo where he found it, guarded off from other predators but otherwise cleaned and sharpened and ready for Luo Binghe, and go back to waiting for Luo Binghe in the starting area.

…What if Luo Binghe can’t make it between shelters fast enough, though? What if Shen Yuan had built them too far apart?? 

Ah, he’ll have to wrangle a Snake Headed Horse Monkey for Luo Binghe to ride on! Shen Yuan can train a few of them, even, so Luo Binghe can have his pick, and -

Luo Binghe falls from the sky, landing perfectly safely in the pile of Abyssal Weed Stalks that Shen Yuan keeps to feed his farm animals with.

“Oh!” He cries, brushing dust and grime from his robes, trying to make himself presentable as Luo Binghe scrambles to sit up. “Binghe, you’re here! Ah, but I haven’t finished preparing all the maps you’ll need, and I only have enough food stored for you to last several months, and -”

Luo Binghe blinks at him, looking around with wide eyes at the stable he crashed through on his fall down into the Abyss. His robes are stained with blood - and wow, Heavenly Demon blood really does smell good! Or, haha, Shen Yuan just means that it looks so pretty! Because it came from inside of Luo Binghe! Who is very pretty!! 

….Shen Yuan looks away from the blood stains. He has enough miracle healing plants in his garden for Luo Binghe to have his pick of them later, anyway, it’s fine!!

“...Do you know me?” Luo Binghe asks, wary. 

“Of course!” Shen Yuan says, delighted to be asked about his knowledge of Luo Binghe. “You’re the most incredible person in the world!”

Luo Binghe, somehow, grows more suspicious. 

“Who are you?” He asks, standing and taking on a ready stance despite his missing sword. 

His expression has sharpened into something dark and distrustful, lacking all of the cute confusion he’d worn when first taking in his surroundings, and it makes Shen Yuan want to tut at him. Cute boy, sweet boy, Shen Yuan won’t hurt you!!

Shen Yuan moves closer to Luo Binghe, curling one of his extra arms around him dotingly. 

“Binghe can call me anything he likes,” he says, which is true. Shen Yuan wasn’t given a proper name in this world, after all! “Why don’t you think of something while I get you inside, hm? I have some swords for you to choose from to replace Zheng Yang, and you’ll let me wash your hair for you, and you can get a good night’s rest before you head off to Xin Mo.”

Luo Binghe tries to duck under Shen Yuan’s arm, but Shen Yuan catches him with several of his others. 

“Let go of me -!” Luo Binghe cries, eyes wide and panicked, and Shen Yuan sighs. 

“There’s no need to be afraid,” he says soothingly, his teeth clicking reassuringly at Luo Binghe. “Here, look -”

Shen Yuan pulls Luo Binghe up off the ground, cradling him in his arms and leaning down to press his mouth gently to Luo Binghe’s forehead.

It isn’t a kiss, for the record!! Shen Yuan would never dare to kiss Luo Binghe, or a man in general, or -

Anyway, it’s not a kiss!! Shen Yuan is just showing Luo Binghe that no matter how cool and dangerous his mouth looks, it won’t ever hurt Luo Binghe!!

“See?” Shen Yuan says, straightening but not setting Luo Binghe down. “I won’t hurt you.”

Luo Binghe stares up at Shen Yuan with wide, shocked eyes, his cheeks flushing with color, and stops struggling. Shen Yuan hums, pleased, and uses one of his spare arms to pat indulgently at Luo Binghe’s head.

“Good boy,” Shen Yuan says. “Now, let’s get you taken care of, hm?”

[charliedawn]

slashers(Jason,Michael and Brahms only) with beautiful undead yet friendly bride Reader who is like Emily(from Corpse Bride) and She refers them as Her "Victor" (btw,are you fan of Tim Burton? if not then that's okay)

(Here you go ! Thank you for the request and indeed, I am a big fan of Tim Burton. Hope you’ll like it 👍)

Jason Voorhees:

Jason was scared half-to-death (see what I did there ? 😂) when he saw that rotten bride just sprang out from the very earth he usually buries the bodies of his victims in. Not gonna lie, he kinda ran back to his cabin when he saw you—‘cause if his mama taught him anything ? It was that dead people don’t come back to life for no good reason. The poor boy locked himself up twice. But, it wasn’t enough to stop you. You eventually came in and started haunting him. He tried to shoo you away at first because Jason likes his loneliness, his space. Actually, he doesn’t like people in general—dead or alive. So, Jason tried everything to get rid of you. He swung his axe at you and tried to catch you or trap you, but all his efforts were fruitless. He finally gave up and let you haunt him. But, he didn’t regret it. As you are a ghost, you could guard his home and warn him of any danger nearby. It was nice having someone watching over his back for once.

…But then, you saw it.

The machete that killed you.

On his wall.

You looked back at Jason and your undead heart squeezed in your chest. Had he…? Was he the one who had killed you ? On your wedding day nonetheless ? Wasn’t he your Victor ? And if not. Who was he ?

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms likes to play pretend. He dreamt of having that special someone he could one day propose to and have his happy ever after moment. He was thinking about it and had one of those gummy rings he had saved from his snack time. He was in the forest and had decided to have himself a little repetition for the unforeseeable future and that’s when he saw one peculiar branch that looked like a finger. He didn’t think more about it and did his little game of pretending…and when he put the ring on the finger. Well…He certainly didn’t expect some half-rotten bride to spurt out of the earth and shout:

"I DO."

But it did. That happened. And then, you wouldn’t leave him—not that he minded. Far from it. He was happy to have a wife (even though the kisses and hugs were a lil’ cold) He wondered about telling people about his…well…new ‘bride’. But, he thought better of it when he realised how lonely and sad you were. It didn’t matter that you called him Victor. Or Marvin. Or Hector. Or Derek for that matters…He would take any name if it meant you would stay and love him. And you had said ‘I do’. No takebacksies now.

Michael Myers:

Michael was confused when he first saw you sprang up from the earth. Weird. His victims usually stayed dead. He tried to stab you but…Oops. Already dead. He quickly realised that you must be like Jack Torrance—a ghost. He also understood that stabbing you would be a waste of time. He tried to ignore you, but you would then appear at random times and tell him that you were married and that he was your Victor. As Michael doesn’t speak, he couldn’t rectify you.

Hence, he became ‘Victor’ to you.

At the end, he learnt to tolerate your presence. Especially at night when he would normally sleep alone with his regrets, he would feel your hand stroking his head and your voice singing him lullabies…Maybe having a dead bride wouldn’t be that bad…?

One day, you showed him an old picture of you. He looked at it and you could see that something was bothering him. You asked him about it, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell you he remembered you. He didn’t tell you he remembered your wide frightened eyes when he plunged his knife deep into your heart the day you were supposed to marry…or the way he mercilessly beheaded your betrothed.

That was a story he would rather never share with you.

[luvindrr]

Kenma is harassed into getting his nails done

kenma kozume x fem!reader | fluff | 773 words c/w: skinny shaming (briefly, once)

It’s a weird building, Kenma thinks, as he pulls into the parking lot. Enormous arched glass on a too-pink wall. It hurts his eyes. The entire street does; it’s all so Barbie-like.

He finds the inside is just as pink when he enters. “Time of appointment?”

“Uh, no, I’m just here for my girlfriend.” Where are you? It smells like alcohol in here. Maybe he should just text-

“Kenma!” His eyes whip towards you, as every other set of eyes whip towards him.

“Your boyfriend?” “He’s very pretty.”

“Very pretty.”

“Like a girl.”

Kenma feels himself go rigid. It feels like a family dinner, where every aunt is scrutinizing his long blonde hair. He points backwards with his thumb. “I’ll just uh- wait outside.” Fuck. Why is he so awkward? This is pathetic.

“You sure? I think I’ll be here for another half hour-”

“PICK A COLOUR! PICK A COLOUR!” Cardstock flurries in his face, and he instinctively stumbles backwards. The sheets are shoved into his arms- some land on the floor- and pushy hands are now ushering him into a chair. “Uh, no, actually, I’m just here for my girl-” He’s shoved into a seat- a very plushy one- before it rams into a table, lurching him forwards slightly. He whips up. Are middle-aged women supposed to be this intimidating?

“I’m- uh, I’ll just-”

“Pick a colour.” The sheer intensity of her glare shuts him up.

Fuck, are you laughing?

“Pick a colour, Kenma!” He whips around, affronted. “We can be matching!”

Kenma looks down at your nails-in-progress. Stickered. Sparkly. Kuroo would never let him live it down. “I don’t think I want that.” You smirk, and he knows you know exactly what he’s thinking.

“You have a My Melody keychain.”

He looks down at his hands, still holding his keys. They certainly are adorned with an obnoxious My Melody plush. You won it at an arcade, but couldn’t fit it on your own keys.

“Oh! You should get Pompompurin. He’s yellow, like you.”

“COLOUR!” He snaps back to the woman in front of him, somehow more irritated and somehow more frightening. He cowers. “PICK A COLOUR!”

Is this normal treatment? Is he paying for you to get your nails done or to be harassed and accosted? Because if this is normal he’s not sure he wants you coming to this place anymore-

“Kenma.” Your familiar scent drifts over him, releasing the tension he didn’t know was there. “You can get something simple. What about this?” You pull out a picture on your phone, but he doesn’t really see it, not when he's resting his head on you behind him. “Whatever you think.” Is that a mistake? Will he regret that later?

Thankfully, he doesn’t see the usual devilish smirk on your face, which surely means you’ve taken pity on him. He stares daggers as you walk away, willing you to come back. Why are you ditching him at the boss level? You’re supposed to be a team; this is supposed to be a two-player game.

“Your hands are pretty! Long fingers!”

“Good nail shape. Very healthy.”

“Too soft. You don’t work?”

When did the crowd spawn? And how the fuck did he get roped into this?

—

The next half hour is a blur. Somehow, he weathered the scrutiny of the mob (“too skinny”, “why blonde?”), paid some ungodly sum, and escaped that Barbie dollhouse hell. Fuck. It’s getting dark. He was going to treat you to boba but the shops are closing so he can’t do that. The shops wouldn’t be closed if your appointment wasn’t pushed back- and your appointment wouldn’t have been pushed if that one rude customer hadn’t been late. What’s up with late people anyway? Fuck them. This is why he became a streamer- so he doesn’t have to deal with people. Now he has to drive in the dark- he hates driving in the dark- he’d fucking die if he crashed the car and you flung out the windshield and paralyzed yourself. He’s not going to be responsible for making his girlfriend a paraplegic-

“Kenma. Your face is weird again.”

He’s never treating you to boba again-

“C’mere; I want a picture.” Kenma lets you manipulate his hand into frame, holding yours when you let him. They’re pretty, your nails. They always are, but this time they’re sparkly, catching the light at every turn. His aren’t bad, either. A simple four-point star in the corner of each. And a Pompompurin sticker on one. It’s cute, actually. They’re nice.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He looks back up to the sun. Probably not too late for boba after all.

masterlist

[iizzeee]

Guys, I am begging you. Please please please please please PLEASE do NOT vote 3rd party, or not vote at all.

I get it. I really do. Biden’s handling of Israel has been, not gonna mince words, dogshit. Abominable. Unspeakably bad.

But we cannot afford to protest like this.

We don’t need Biden as president. We do need to keep Trump out of office. And to those who respond “well, I don’t want just the lesser of two evils,” please, for the love of god, grow the fuck up.

For one, why wouldn’t you want the lesser of two evils. It is, by definition, LESS EVIL.

“Why can’t we just have no evil, why isn’t that an option.” I really wish it was. Just as much as you. But it’s not. These are our cards, and we have to play our hand to the best of our ability.

Which brings us to two.

Trump is more evil. Like, so much more evil. We’re comparing apples and oranges here guys.

I understand that a lot of you might doubt that. The largest demographic of people advocating for third party or non-votes are in the 18-26 range. New voters, with one or no elections under their belt.

So they don’t remember.

Most of us (I myself fall under this age range) don’t remember 2016. The election, that is. They don’t remember how so many people protested Hillary vs Trump by going 3rd party or writing in joke votes, because they saw the two as equally bad. And Trump won.

Half of us don’t remember the Trump presidency. We’ve heard he was a weird, bad, bigoted president, but don’t fully grasp the scope of how bad.

So off the top of my head, here are some highlights of real things Donald Trump did while he held office.

- threw toilet paper at hurricane victims like he was trying to shoot a 3-pointer

- fired the man investigating him for election fraud

- called African countries “shitholes”

- appointed members of the Supreme Court who would go on to overturn roe v wade

- stole classified documents from the white house to hide at his resort

- tried to instate a Muslim Ban

- incited a insurrection to try and keep himself in office, and maybe hang his VP if there was time

- looked directly at an eclipse. Like no glasses, full on.

- fueled covid conspiracies. Also told people to “drink bleach” to fight the virus

- withdrew us from the Paris Climate Accord

- cofefe. Remember that? What a fun, normal thing for the president to tweet at 2am.

- employed literal white supremacists

- called Nazi’s “very fine people”

- got endorsed by the KKK, and refused to condemn David Duke

And that’s just what I can remember right now.

So if you’re angry at Biden about Palestine, please please please do not think for a fucking second Trump would be better. He would almost certainly actively be worse. He would give Netanyahu the green light. If you think Biden has used a loose leash, at least it’s some kind of leash. Trump would be all in. Full chips, flying to the Middle East to send in the bombs himself.

If you’re still hesitant, consider this last plea.

Things are bad. These shouldn’t be the only two choice we have, but they are. You can’t look at the menu, which is offering either bland soup someone spit in or actual rat poison and go “could I have some steak”.

You can order the soup and live to write a one-star review on Yelp, maybe call health inspections on the restaurant or contact the owners and say “you guys know your menu has only two options and they’re both dogshit. If you don’t add more, you’ll be unemployed soon.”

Or you can order rat poison and die.

If we elect Donald Trump in the fall, we will be eating rat poison. He has repeatedly said himself to be in favor of a dictatorship. He quotes Hitler. If he is put in office, the change we all want and so critically need will not be fucking POSSIBLE. Because with Biden, it’ll be hard, and tedious, and long, and exhausting, but at least it will be goddamn possible.

So, come November, please don’t order the rat poison.

Please just eat your shitty ass soup so we can live to get really angry about it.

Please.

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀

꧁ 𝙊𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 ��𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Teaser ➤ the day life went to shit and got you a husband

Word count › 4.6k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › talk of trafficking (not actually shown)

Kinks › dub con, a/b/o, bitching

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

Harada (Name) was pretty much a gem to others. An alpha so sweet that he rivaled omegas. He was beautiful, a bit feminine compared to other alphas but most didn’t mind.

His family didn’t care too much about him. Despite everyone else loving him, he was weak compared to his older brother. A stereotypical alpha that was cold and heartless. Only saw omegas as a breeding stock for their alpha pups.

Most now didn’t think that way. Omegas were equals now and had protection over themselves. Of course there was the weirdos, like (Name)’s brother and family, they were really an outlier.

The Harada family were well off to say the least. Their house was certainly large. Nothing to scoff over. But (Name) never knew just what his family did. They wouldn’t tell him. He first believed they were lawyers when he found a diploma for law school.

But they wouldn’t give him an answer. They even told him to no longer bother them about his silly questions. (Name) had stopped asking after that.

His older sister, a beta named Kokomo, was much nicer to him. Maybe the only family member that liked him. His big brother, Haru, hated him. He wasn’t even sure why.

When (Name) reached the age of 18, he was finally going off to college. But he was forced to chose a college that was close in his area so he’d stay at the house.

In hindsight, he should’ve known that it had to do something with the secrets his parents were hiding.

“(Name)! You paying attention?” Hana huffed, shaking her head. She was one of the few true friends he had recently made.

“Sorry.. a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” Kei, another friend, asked.

“My parents. They haven’t come home yet…”

“Oh,” Hana sighed. “Probably got stuck with some stuff at work. Nothing to worry about.”

Yeah, (Name) thought to himself. Maybe he was just freaking himself out. He continued the night with his friends, ending the study session with new confidence for his test tomorrow.

He walked home alone, like always. A hum on his lips as he lightly skipped home, excited to see Kokomo at home. If his parents and Haru still weren’t home, he’d get to enjoy himself with his favorite person in the whole world.

A grin spread on his lips as he picked up the pace. He was lucky enough that his house was only twenty minutes walk away from the university. Being an alpha had its perks in that he didn’t fear walking home alone.

Once he reached home, he noticed it was quiet. Way too quiet. (Name) felt a rush of panic in himself, wondering if anything went wrong. He rushed to Kokomo’s bedroom, hoping and praying that she’d just be asleep in bed.

And she was. (Name) sighed with relief, closing her bedroom door back once he confirmed she was just asleep. He shook his head, he was going crazy.

(Name) then just decided he needed a shower and to take a good nights rest for his big day tomorrow.

Once he made it to his room, he saw his window open. Weird. He shrugged it off and closed it, glancing around quickly to see if something was off.

But it was normal.

With nothing odd roaming about, he pulled off his clothes for his shower. (Name)’s body was smaller and slimmer than any other alpha he’s ever met. More feminine like—even with his facial features.

If it wasn’t for his scent, most would assume he was a taller omega. (Name) had always felt insecure about it but he still had many omegas and betas want to date him even with his features so he mainly ignored it.

“Wow, a show? Just for me, baby?”

(Name) shrieked, covering his body with his hands. A random man came out from the bathroom connected his room. Fuck, he forgot to check the bathroom. He panicked, wondering if he could just sprint to his door and run out.

But he couldn’t. The man was right near it, he could easily grab him. The window also wasn’t a good idea since he was on the second floor. Falling to the ground might break some bones.

He also couldn’t just leave Kokomo alone with this strange man.

“Who are you?!”

The man smiled. “Your mommy and daddy haven’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

He sighed, “your parents suck, huh?”

A scream was heard as (Name) felt himself freeze up. No. Why didn’t he think that this man would be alone? All this staring and trying to talk to this man gave whoever his parents were enough time to get to his sister.

(Name) gasped as the man was suddenly in front of him with a napkin in his hands. Before he could even try to dodge it, the napkin was pressed firmly onto his face, directly into his nose. Whatever was on the napkin, he quickly felt himself slipping away into a deep slumber.

All he could see was the smirk on the man’s lips before his eyes closed.

ꕥ

“(Name)!”

A groan left (Name)’s throat as he craned his neck around to get a look of what had happened. His eyes felt a little blurry, as he tried to take in what was happening. From his blurry vision, he could tell that he was still at home, just in the large living room.

He was on the floor, tied tightly around both arms and legs. A cry from his sister caused him to try and fight against the bonds but nothing happened. He wasn’t even sure if his thoughts was cooperating with his body right now.

“Harada? We have your son and daughter here… if you’re done with hiding, come and get them before we leave a nice blood splatter for ya!” A voice chuckled.

No… was his family in a gang? Just what did they do?

A grip on his hair caused him to finally see more clearly. It was the man from the bathroom looking at home, a calm and calculating look on his face.

“Hey, kid, we’ll have to use you and your sister as bait, alright? No hard feelings. We won’t hurt you.”

(Name) wasn’t sure if he believed them but he couldn’t argue. He felt so tired. The man placed his head back on the ground before walking away, leaving (Name) alone to ponder his situation.

There were more people with them. Maybe three others? Two alphas and two betas. The man was certainly an alpha and felt like a leader. (Name) couldn’t see the others but heard their whispering of something his parents and brother owed them.

Were they an omega trafficking ring? He wouldn’t put it past them to do such a thing. A grunt left him as he tried to move around to face the couch from his spot on the ground. He could hear Kokomo crying, pleading on letting her and him live.

(Name) wished he could hug her but all he could do was try and turn his body around.

“Your parents, Miss Harada, are in a bit of trouble. They decided to kidnap our boss’s sister for their little shit of a son. But they didn’t get far.” A random woman laughed, an alpha.

“Papa’s dead. So now we only have big bro and mama. Let’s see what happens to them hm?”

(Name) could heard Kokomo’s cries on the news about their father’s apparent death. He couldn’t find himself to care. They really tried to kidnap some random omega woman for Haru? Why couldn’t he just find someone?

“That’s not all,” a new voice chimed in. “Papa and mama have some crimes they must answer for. And big bro was about to join those little crimes.” A beta male said.

“What crimes..?” Kokomo asked.

“Trafficking ring.” The bathroom man said. “It was stopped a week ago. I’m sure that’s when your parents left for their little work trip.”

And it was. (Name) didn’t know how to feel but it was certainly anger building up. Was that really how they made their money? The luxury he lived in was built off the exploitation of innocent omegas?

“No! Mom and dad aren’t like that!” Kokomo yelled, but even (Name) could hear that she didn’t believe herself.

Did they really know their parents when they focused solely on Haru?

“The police…” (Name) muttered, earning eyes on him.

“We’ll send them after your mom and brother if they don’t come,” the woman said.

“Anyway, aren’t you going to go through with the plan?” A beta female said, startling (Name) when she grasped his hair and pulled him up. He grunted in pain, finally getting a clear look at Kokomo and the others.

Kokomo was clutching a pillow to her chest as she sat on the couch, staring at (Name) with a look of fear. He wished he could run to her and calm her down. But his body still felt weak.

Just what was that thing on the napkin?

“So, how do you wanna do this? They need to see it,” she said, pulling out a knife. Kokomo screamed but was quickly silenced by the male beta. She gripped the hand covering her mouth as wet tears streamed down her face.

The female beta brought the knife towards (Name)’s cheek, pressing it into his skin. He felt completely silent, wishing they wouldn’t go through with it.

But then Haru and his mother stormed into the room, looking completely calm despite the situation they were in. (Name) was not happy to see them but at least the bathroom man was distracted.

“Kimura!” His brother yelled, a snarl on his lips. His disgusting scent filled the living room of burnt marshmallows as (Name) wanted to gag. The other people in the room seemed to agree with his feeling as they also looked mildly disgusted.

The bathroom man, Kimura, smirked. “Haru-Chan! How’s it going? Thought you wouldn’t leave that new home of yours. You too, mama.”

(Name)’s mother scowled. “You already took my husband anyway from me! What more do you want?”

What…? Did she not see Kokomo and (Name) in custody of these gangsters?

Kimura hummed. “Well, I thought you’d care about your other kids but I guess I was wrong…”

His mother only laughed. “Care about a feminine alpha and a disgusting girl who became a beta? You were sadly mistaken.”

The alpha woman shook her head, “wow, no wonder you had no problem having that trafficking ring.”

“The things my family did to give us a roof over our head,” his mother exclaimed. Haru simply nodded in agreement.

“A roof over your head in favor of using those poor omegas?!” The beta woman gasped, pressing the knife deeper into his skin, causing a sliver of blood to appear on his cheek.

“Yes. I did what I could for my husband and son. Those two just happened because his condom failed.”

Oh. He knew she didn’t like him but to actually hear it…

It actually hurt. Kokomo was now sobbing, not believing her own mother would say such words about her like that. Haru’s scent that had previously dominated the room was beginning to disappear, being dominated by something else.

Kimura’s scent.

It was a scent of a rainy night in a forest. In any other time, (Name) would’ve enjoyed it. But now it was angry. He somehow felt the urge to show to Kimura that he would not disobey him. Was it because he was a much stronger alpha?

“I’m sure you do care about the reputation of your family. Now that’s basically gone, I guess I can just do what your son did to my sister.” Kimura muttered, walking over to (Name).

A look of panic washed over Haru and his mother. What they did his sister? Reputation gone? What the hell was he talking about.

Kimura grabbed the knife from the beta and pushed in deep, ignoring the cry from (Name) as he slashed downwards, effectively cutting his skin. Wet blood covered his left side of his face as Kimura soon did it to his right side, equal in length and area of his face.

(Name) felt himself whither in agony, the pain of being cut so deep as blood flowed down his face. He could hear Kokomo screaming as she was kept down on the couch by the alpha woman and the two betas.

Haru and his mother didn’t even try to help. They only stood there in fear.

(Name) glanced up as Kimura tugged at his hair. He didn’t think he could take anymore damage. His face would be permanently scarred now. Matching scars on both cheeks that traveled from his cheek bone to the middle of his cheeks.

“But scarring her wasn’t the only thing you did to her….” Kimura said, loud enough for Haru to hear. “You didn’t get to go through with fully going through with it but I will. Fair is unfair, yeah?”

With a sharp tug to pull his head back, Kimura kneeled down and bite down on (Name)’s scent gland. (Name)’s body rejected the claim, causing him to scream in pain. The physical contortion of his body rejecting the claim from an alpha almost made him completely pass out.

“(Name)!!! Please, don’t hurt him!!” Kokomo cried. “Haru!!! Mommy!! Do something!!”

Kimura leaned back in and bit down on his scent gland again, earning another scream from (Name) the rejection was less violent but he still felt himself shiver in pain.

His body was against it. It didn’t want it. He wasn’t made to handle such bites.

(Name) could only see Haru and his mother just stare in fear. They really weren’t going to do anything. He was going to be killed by the time Kimura was finished.

But (Name) wasn’t even sure what the man was doing.

Was he trying to intentionally hurt him…?

“Only need one more bite and then the process starts…” Kimura muttered, looking back at Haru as if he was waiting for him to protest. Do anything to save his little brother from the worst pain imaginable.

But he only stared.

Kimura shrugged before his sharp teeth bit down on his scent gland, making (Name)’s body actually take this time. His sharp canines went through the gland, effectively claiming him as if he was an omega.

A cry left (Name)’s lips as his body convulsed in jolts of pain. He felt himself faint soon near after, wet tears in his eyes as he knew something terrible happened to his body.

And there was no way to reverse it.

ꕥ

A heavy body on (Name) stirred him awake as he looked around. He wasn’t in the living room. And this certainly wasn’t his home. He glanced down at the body in his chest to realize it was a Shiba Inu. The dog barked happily, noticing (Name) was awake.

(Name) felt any panic in his heart, disappear as he cuddled the dog. He could oddly feel himself purr in glee at the feeling of the dog. But it was odd. He never purred before at the touch of a dog.

He’d seen other omegas do it but he never did.

(Name) reached over on the nightstand for anything but only found a tv remote. With nothing else, he turned on the tv, right to the news to see what date it was.

“Good morning! I’m Yoshida Nana! It’s October 18, at noon today. It’s only been two weeks since the capture of Harada Asa and Harada Haru for their omega trafficking ring. Others have now been caught and charged for participating.”

“The body of Harada Yuki has also been found. We once again thank the Kimura family for bringing the Harada’s to justice and saving all of the victims that were tragically captured. Please, If you find any word of other rings or people who may have participated, report to the police immediately.”

(Name) covered his mouth as he gently pushed the dog off of him and rushed to the bathroom, kneeling down in front of the toilet as he threw up. He forgot. He forgot about everything his parents and brother had done.

No way.

No way.

He couldn’t go back to normal after this. Omega traffickers?? People would think he had something to do with it. He was an alpha as well, he couldn’t just say he had no idea without proof.

The dog whined as it pressed it’s wet nose against his leg, earning a soft smile from (Name). He sighed softly before getting up and walking over to the sink, looking in the mirror to see what has become of him.

He slept for so long. Two weeks?

(Name) gasped. Two matching scars were on his face. They were light, looking to not be too recent but they were still there. He felt a bit better at the fact they’d be gone soon but how long did he have to wait?

Weeks? Years?

He glanced at over parts of his body and noticed he had gotten shorter. Much shorter. His 5’10 frame had gone down at most three inches? He had to be around 5’7 now? Maybe even 5’6. How did this happen?

His legs didn’t look as long as they were. And his body.

It was skinny before. Thin as a pole but now it was plump. His chest had actual fluff. His thighs weren’t just thin but actually had fat on it. His ass as well.. it wasn’t flat anymore. There was a curve.

Like…

Like an omega.

He had features of an omega….

No.

No.

(Name) felt himself panic. Not when he was finally confident in his features and secondary gender. How can it just be taken away from him as if it was nothing?

Why couldn’t anything go right for him?!

Something inside of him was whining. Whining for someone to comfort him. An alpha? But he didn’t have one. (Name) stumbled over to his bed, the tv still playing the news as he collapsed on the bed.

The dog was hot on his tail, barking as if it wanted to get (Name) to calm down. (Name) felt weak. He wanted to sleep. But he couldn’t—not on a bed that didn’t feel like home.

He wanted Kokomo…

With his tired body, he lazily moved pillows and sheets around the bed as he built a makeshift nest. He reached down and pulled the dog onto the bed and laid down, finally able to sleep in something…. More homey.

It was possibly only a few minutes but an hour to (Name) when he felt the touch of someone on his head. He awoke quickly, glancing to see who it was. It was Kokomo. (Name) couldn’t help the tears form in his eyes as he got up, accidentally waking up the dog, and pulling her into a hug.

Kokomo gracefully returned it, whispering about how much she missed him. (Name) felt the sudden urge to scent her. He had never felt this way when he was an alpha. But he had never scent anyone so he wasn’t sure how.

“(Name), are you okay? I was so worried!”

“Mmh, I feel odd. But we need to get home.”

“There is no home… they took it…” Kokomo muttered.

“Why…?”

“We don’t own it. But we don’t have to worry about people thinking we were apart of it! Kimura-San proved us innocent!” Kokomo grinned.

“How?”

A blush appeared on her face. “Oh… uh… well, Kimura-San, the boss of this company, had been previous business partners with mom and dad… they knew something was odd when mom suddenly got enough money to pay off any debts.”

“So they spied of them?” (Name) asked.

“Kinda. They didn’t tell me much. Just that the police won’t need to investigate us… the public is a different story. But Kimura-San will let us stay here.”

“What’s in it for them?”

“Nothing. But it’s good for an omega to stay with his alpha.”

“Excuse me?”

Kokomo frowned. “It was probably traumatic for you. But he did bitch you. It was because his sister was almost bitched by our brother.”

(Name) felt himself frown. “So I was bitched for revenge?! I was forcibly changed and removed of any good status I had in this life because of fucking revenge?!”

He stood up from the bed as he paced around.

“Good status? (Name) you don’t mean that…”

(Name) growled. “Of course I fucking believe that. An omega!? A fucking omega!? I had a good life as an alpha! People loved me! And now I’m stuck as a fucking breeder!”

A slap rang out in the room as (Name) felt his eyes widen in shock. Kokomo had slapped him. He turned back to stare at her, wondering when she got the audacity to hit him.

“I know you are panicked! Turning into an omega isn’t something easy. But I won’t allow you to talk down about omegas or yourself. Taiki will take care of you!”

“Taiki?! Who the fuck is Taiki?!”

Kokomo sighed. “Just… allow him to help you. He’s been caring for you for awhile now.” She walked over to the door. (Name) watched as she left, leaving him alone in the unfamiliar room.

Was she… did she really turn against him?

(Name) felt tears stream down his face as he wondered if this was it. Was he screwed over forever? He glanced over at the dog on the bed as he tried to calm down.

He needed something. He wanted someone.

Despite the bright sun shining into his room, (Name) joined the dog on the bed and went right back to sleep, feeling defeated in his short life. He was sure if he wanted to wake up.

The feeling of something cool against his hot skin was healing towards him. A whisper was heard as he was manhandled into something cool. He could smell that Kimura man… was it because it was his house?

“Sana! Give him some space,” the voice said, pushing away a barking animal. (Name) stirred in the man’s arms, wanting to get a good look at who it was.

He glanced up and saw the bathroom man. Kimura. The man who turned him into this… shell of himself. But he couldn’t feel angry. He felt himself purr at the sight of him. If he had a tail, it would’ve been wagging.

“Baby, are you feeling okay? Being bitched isn’t something most alphas can handle…” Kimura muttered. “But you seem to be handling it pretty well, huh?”

(Name) hummed. “You bitched me because of my brother, right? Why are you treating me like this?”

Kimura gripped (Name)’s chin and forced him to look up at him. “I would’ve bitched you even if your brother didn’t kidnap my sister. I wanted you for awhile now.”

“Wh—wha? How did you know me?”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Kimura smirked.

“Does it look like I do?”

Kimura simply hummed as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on (Name)’s healed mating mark. A sudden mewl left (Name)’s lips as he felt his cock twitch at the touch. He couldn’t contain his purring as he felt Kimura bit over his mating mark.

“You don’t have a clue on how long I’ve waiting for you.” Kimura whispered. “No matter how much you initially fight me, I’ll continue to love you.”

(Name) blushed. Love? This man, who could be five years his senior, loved him? He, in the first time once he saw him, got a good look at his features. Dark jet black hair with medium length bangs. Sharp monolids that resembled a cat. Medium lips that could widen into a sinister smirk if he wanted to.

He wasn’t scary to look at, at least.

(Name) opened his mouth to speak only to feel a sudden gush of something wet from his ass. He watched as Kimura only had to sniff once to know what he was smelling.

“Already? Your heat is coming.” Kimura muttered, easily maneuvering (Name) to lay down on the bed as he pulled off his boxers. (Name) hated how he didn’t struggle.

He wanted to but his body wouldn’t listen. It was the stupid omega that was purring at the sight of ‘his’ alpha pleasuring him.

“Before you touch me down there, who are you? Yakuza?”

Kimura stared at (Name) before grinning. “Maybe. You can’t be this rich without some side businesses.”

“Like my parents.”

“We’re nothing like your scum of earth parents. Don’t you ever try to say my family is anything like them, alright?” Kimura glared at him, making him quickly agree,

“Don’t worry, baby. You won’t be a Harada anymore. You’ll be a Kimura.”

“Then… you’re Taiki…?”

“Yeah. Taiki, wanna scream it?”

(Name) shook his head even though the slick looking at his ass was beginning to bother him. Taiki simply chuckled before slipping in two fingers into his ass.

A scream left the newly omega beneath him as he thrusted the fingers deep inside, dragging them against his warm walls as they tightened around him. (Name) hated how he craved this. How he wanted to pull Taiki in closer.

“Can you imagine my cock instead of my fingers? I think you’d honestly prefer it,” Taiki laughed.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” (Name) cried, not sounding at all as the angry alpha he used to. Now he only reminded Taiki of a whiny omega who needed to be fucked during their heat.

“Fine, fine. We can sit in silence.”

With that, he thrusted in a third finger, dragging it in deep enough to brush against his prostate. A scream left (Name)’s lips as his back arched. He’d never had anything up his ass before and he hated how easily his body was taking it.

There was no resistance. Slick continued to drip out, making it easier for Taiki to continuously stimulate his prostate. (Name) didn’t really like the silence, being as his moans and whimpers were the only thing in the room.

Well, until a certain bark caught his attention.

“OH MY GOD!!”

“What?!”

“Get the dog out!!”

“Sana is fine. She doesn’t know what we’re doing.”

“Out or you’ll never fuck me!!”

Taiki cursed but did as he was told, removing his fingers and grabbing Sana to take her out of the room. Sana whined at this but didn’t fight his hold. Once the door closed when she was put out, Taiki frowned to see (Name) fully covered with a blanket.

“Seriously?”

“Get away.”

“If I’m away, your omega will cry.”

“No sex.”

“Fine. You initiating it will be sexy later. Since you’re still leaking slick,” Taiki said, turning on the tv.

“I’m stuck like this…?”

Taiki turned his attention back over to him, leaning over. (Name) watched as Taiki surprisingly showed off his neck, his scent gland. Did he want…

“Go ahead. Bind me to you like I bound you to me.”

(Name) should’ve pushed him away. Slap him. Fucking kick him away for doing this to him. But he gripped Taiki’s shoulder and pulled him in as he bite harshly at his scent gland. He enjoyed the grimace he earned from Taiki, making sure the mark would take.

The taste of blood was metallic and a bit gross at best. (Name) pulled away with blood coating his lips as he stared at the mark. It was…

It made his heart swell at the sight. Taiki was his…

The stupid omega in him was fucking happy but he wasn’t.

He couldn’t be.

“Happy?”

“No! Get out of my sight!”

“No. This is my room.”

“What?!”

“And you’re wearing my clothes.”

(Name) was ready to take this clothes off but decided against it. He’d rather not be naked.

“You’ve ruined my life.”

“I think I made it better, Omega.”

(Name) ignored the sudden rush of slick in his ass.

He was screwed.

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Wrote way more than I usual ever do… this character actually has plot 💀 first time besides Riki (who gets a part 2 on Sunday)

Taiki’s debut! Can’t wait to write more for him, if you guys want a part 2!

Thank you so much for 1k followers!

[when-wax-wings-melt]

Keeper of the Lost Cities: A Love-Hate-Love Relationship, And What It Can Do To Your Psyche 

This is the essay you guys wanted to see after this presentation dropped; to be clear, this is the final draft. The presentation was made from the rough draft, so it's rather different.

Also, the essay prompt was to make it personal. So the italicized bits are where I was trying to do that, and they are both separate and a part of the essay. They break up the flow, but are also a response to the normal bits of the essay. You get it. Here we go.

In total, the Keeper of The Lost Cities (KOTLC) series by Shannon Messenger has over 7000 pages, split between nine and a half books (Book 8.5 was, uselessly, a novella) with a planned tenth coming in late 2024. It’s the kind of series that hooks you the same way a fisherman hooks a fish: with a promise of a treat that goes very, very unfulfilled. This is to say: KOTLC is a good series, at least at first. It’s certainly been my core obsession for a good (or bad) five years. It’s a hook because you can’t escape once you’ve begun. It’s my own personal brand of heroine, as Edward Cullen might say if Bella were a too-long book series that doesn’t resolve any plotlines or character arcs and instead piles more information on top of worldbuilding until contradictions are more plentiful than the packed main cast.

KOTLC is a good series, but the idea of recommending it feels like I’d be violating several articles of the Geneva Convention. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, and yet the thought of it ending is an impossibility on the scale of the apocalypse and I hope (I’d rather) the world ends before this series does. KOTLC is a minefield of sloppy worldbuilding, deeply compelling characters, and---where am i without it?---bits of myself woven into the many, many words, sinking under my skin and revealing what I think I have to offer. 

Sophie Foster is the protagonist of the series, trudging the long, never-ending path to what hopefully will be a happy ending. Like the author, Sophie has blonde hair and brown eyes, making her unique among her fellow elves, who all have blue eyes, including the rare-among-the-main-cast people of color.

There are so many things that make Sophie weird, strange, unique, attractive to every boy who sees her, and otherwise out of the ordinary: for example, she has five special abilities that allow her to teleport, read minds, inflict pain, speak any language, and enhance the abilities of others---i cannot do what she can, but she breathes and i do too---There are certain things she has very much in common with her fellow elves, such as her slender build and flawless skin, but much more makes her, as her childhood bullies would say, “A Special Sophie-Flake.”

Sophie was raised by humans, which not only means that the steadily growing pile of unique traits is now tottering dangerously above my head, but also that she’s clumsy and wildly insecure. This insecurity has a purpose and a source, making it one of the most annoyingly (and terrifyingly) accurate depictions of teenage anxiety in middle-grade media (if I were a vampire pulled from normal vampire lore rather than Twilight and I looked at her, I’d be invisible)---so do you get it? do i? 

which one of us is me---Sophie has intense imposter syndrome, never believing she’s worthy of the overwhelming support, approval, and desire heaped upon her throughout her years in the Lost Cities. In Book One, four teenage boys were no less than obsessed with her, possibly because she, presumably, talked to them sometimes. Valin, a “drooly boy” (named due to his constant drooling, as one might expect), is forced to ballroom dance with Sophie in detention, and later gives her a card and a bracelet professing his admiration. Dex Dizznee manages to sustain his crush until he finally makes his move in Book Six, and is rejected in humiliation after she kisses him to make him realize his feelings aren’t actually real---when I know that he was lying to himself, is lying to himself. truth is a phase and it ends once you hit age eight---After Book Six, only two remain: Fitz and Keefe, each of whom has made their crushes very, desperately, embarrassingly clear to someone who very clearly returns both sets of feelings.

“Sooner or later you're going to have to solve the triangle. Or should we get real and call it a square?” (Messenger Neverseen), notes Keefe, with his usual subtle confession of his feelings---only leaving me with questions: did he want her to know at all? is he chasing the person or the change? the girl or the excitement? the wanting or the wanted?---The love polygon of however many vertices is both acknowledged and not by Sophie— she’s aware of her feelings for Fitz from chapter two of Book One, becomes aware of her feelings for Keefe in Book Nine, and mentally friend-zones Dex every other sentence, even when it’s not really relevant to the rest of her inner monologue. Her inability to believe with confidence that she might be worthy of a crush (or any sort of positive acknowledgment) is layered beneath every thought where she considers the possibility of being liked, and then promptly dismisses it.

---she knows that admitting it means being wrong. i will be wrong, unless i guess right and am big-headed, full of myself. who am i---

Sophie’s oblivious nature stems from her human upbringing, directly resulting from the trauma of developing the ability to read minds at age five. She hears her parents wishing she were normal or better at making friends and fitting in, her sister complaining about her presence, and her classmates at school judging everything she does.

She sticks out like a sore thumb in the human world, only to come to the elven world and be called a freak, malfunctioning, a genetic experiment, and a failure, just when she thought she might fit in---when i am a puzzle piece, a corner without the connection---Her alienation in the human world (referred to as the Forbidden Cities in the series) comes from her level of success, skipping five grades due to her elven intelligence and photographic memory, and getting into Harvard at age twelve.

While she hates the combination of jealousy and admiration she’s constantly showered with there---who hates it and loves it at the same time? isolation and contradiction---in the elven world, she’s hated for other reasons: accidentally breaking laws, making mistakes, or simply being a blip on the seemingly perfect streak the elven world has for peace and security. Is there any mystery as to why she would never believe that people actually, genuinely care for her? She’s formed her protective coating of denial that lasts her through every time Fitz gives her a gift and she convinces herself it means nothing, or every time Dex shows his jealousy, or every time Keefe goes to her before anyone else.

Even when she kisses Dex, after he tells her in anything but words that he likes her, she doubts herself—are two sides of the same coin, where heads is insecurity and tails is egotism. question: who is she?---She doesn’t think he actually likes her, appreciates her, admires her. This doubt works its way into everything she does, every relationship she has, platonic, romantic, or otherwise. Yet again, she shows her status as a reflection---answer: she’s a mirror. i know who i am because she exists---reading into everything and still not believing or trusting that it truly exists outside of her imagination.

Any time Sophie sees a girl she perceives as prettier, more elegant, or smarter than she is, she instantly develops a jealousy complex—relating either to how Fitz acts around them, or how they project the confidence and normalcy she wishes she can achieve---to tell me whether or not i am alone---She surrounds herself with people who are described as incredibly stunning even in a world where every elf naturally matches the ideal Western beauty standard.

Yet she refuses to believe that she, too, might be beautiful, and instead considers herself dull and boring next to Biana, Linh, Marella, and Maruca---(and ten books later, i still do not have an answer)---Even Stina, who has committed the number one crime (it’s a federal offense) of having “a mass of frizzy curls” (KOTLC 164), is considered beautiful when her hair is “tamed” and slicked back. This framing of beauty applies to the boys, too, but none of Sophie’s descriptions are quite as detailed, quite as admiring, or quite as wistful as when she’s describing Biana Vacker’s heart-shaped, perfectly glossed lips---so, yes, i look at her and see myself. is that what i’m trying to say? is that what i am?---

But the queer-coding doesn’t stop (or begin, really) with Sophie’s dedicated denial of both her worth as a human being and her desire to kiss her pretty girl friends. A connection called a “Cognate Bond” is often referred to in the text as the closest two elves can become, emotionally and mentally.

Cognates exist when two Telepaths (such as Sophie) have such a deep and unbreakable trust bond that they become more skilled together than they were apart. In creating and maintaining this bond, they have to complete trust exercises and not hold back secrets keeping them from total confidentiality---she thrives on secrets---Sophie’s cognate is her friend (and love interest, and, debatably, ex-boyfriend) Fitz, whose romantic relationship was in a large part focused on their cognate one. Their trust exercises involve staring into each other’s eyes, holding hands, having matching rings, and Fitz telling Sophie that she’s the only person he can truly trust.

Fitz also asks his father at one point if cognates are allowed to date each other— his father affirms the statement. Notably, Alden has the authority to do so since he himself was a cognate, only undergoing a nasty breakup— sorry, only losing the bond, after his cognate, Quinlin, kept too many secrets. It’s implied that two other characters were once almost Cognates, only to grow too far apart when one of them, Prentice, had his sanity forcibly shattered and was locked in prison, leaving his (gay lover) best friend, Tiergan, to raise his son---while cognatedom thrives on truth, and also regret, and also the denial of both---The choice to parallel Fitz/Sophie, Alden/Quinlin, and Tiergan/Prentice was possibly not a conscious one but it still resonates with hundreds of queer teen readers who look at the portrayal of utter devotion and trust between two men and think, Wow. This is what I see in myself---but without the denial, without the regret, what are we left with? what do we see?

we see the truth.

We see ourselves.

There are so, so many other issues that I could easily delve into in this series (such as the strangely Western portrayal of gender roles, the racism concerning the Song family, irresponsible adults and the ethics of genetic experimentation, the girlboss and cardboardification of quite literally every woman, etc) and just as many things that make Keeper of the Lost Cities worth it (Fitz’s anger, the development of villains, Sophie’s trans-coding, Keefe’s trauma, physical ramifications of guilt, Marella and Fintans’ pyrokinesis/queer-coding, whatever Dimitar has going on, etc).

The series tends to skew to the “not good” side, although on occasion it will topple abruptly into the “incredible work of art and exploration of wildly interesting character dynamics” before rising like an angel back to heaven into its original position as “questionable in terms of taste.” Mostly, what defines KOTLC is how it’s interpreted rather than the content itself. Someone far different (and with far worse taste) than I might see Fitz’s quest for vengeance and call him a red flag in elven form, while I call it a ridiculously interesting exploration of what grief, near idol worship, toxic standards, and guilt can do to a teenage boy past his limit.

But I am not the voice of the fandom (even though I definitely should be). I look at Sophie Foster and see myself, but that does not make her me. These characters always feel so painfully real, desperately relatable, as if Messenger cobbled together a main cast from bits of my life, but they are not. In the end, they are just characters. In the end, it’s just a series made for middle schoolers, in the same way the sun is just the sun, and the stars are just there to twinkle merrily and not to be explored.

(where am i without it? I cannot do what she can, but she breathes and I do too so do you get it? do i?  which one of us is me when I know that he was lying to himself, is lying to himself. truth is a phase and it ends once you hit age eight only leaving me with questions: did he want her to know at all? is he chasing the person or the change? the girl or the excitement? the wanting or the wanted? she knows that admitting it means being wrong. i will be wrong, unless i guess right and am big-headed, full of myself. who am i when i am a puzzle piece, a corner without the connection who hates it and loves it at the same time? isolation and contradiction aretwo sides of the same coin, where heads is insecurity and tails is egotism. question: who is she? answer: she’s a mirror. i know who i am because she exists to tell me whether or not i am alone (and ten books later, i still do not have an answer) so, yes, i look at her and see myself. is that what i’m trying to say? is that what i am? she thrives on secrets while cognatedom thrives on truth, and also regret, and also the denial of both but without the denial, without the regret, what are we left with? what do we see? we see the truth. We see ourselves.

[pagannatural]

2.08 Crossroad Blues

-Absolute classic. Sam’s bossy ass saying Dean’s notoriety means they have to be more careful now, Dean flirting by calling him “you innocent, harmless young man you.” Sam feels overshadowed, or maybe he just wants them to be mentioned as a pair.

-Dean doesn’t want to help people who made demon deals, because he feels they’ve brought this on themselves. Sam notices that Dean is being weird about this when normally saving people is his jam. Sam notes this red flag in Dean’s behavior.

Something I just realized is that Sam didn’t seem to be this observant with John. Dean knows both John and Sam well but in different ways. He learned how to read John but he can sense Sam like a part of himself. Did Sam not learn how to read John? Did he not have to because understanding Dean was more central to his world and wellbeing? He looked up to Dean and trusted that they could take care of each other. This is part of what makes the dynamic between the three of them so striking. Sam didn’t seem to have that slight fear of John that Dean did, that comes from trying really hard to predict what a parent will say or do next.

-Dean kicks in the front door when Evan locks it, leads the way inside, and goes to kick in the office doors but Sam stops him by grabbing his leg

which leaves him sort of leaning into Dean and holding his leg. Sam then opens the door because it was unlocked. I love this moment because it shows how close they are that Sam feels comfortable intercepting him physically and knew right away what Dean was going to do. It also shows Sam’s role in their relationship tempering Dean’s brute-force reactions, helping him slow down.

-Dean tells Evan unsympathetically “I think you did it for yourself so you wouldn’t have to live without her.”

This episode is so complex when you watch it in context. Right now Dean is mad at John for saving his life because he feels guilty, and because he was brought back to a world heavy with the crushing weight of his father’s absence and horrifying last edict.

But John most certainly didn’t bring Dean back because he didn’t want to live without him—John died right away. This is Dean contemplating bringing John back because he really needs his dad right now. He’s exhausted and he’s confused and he doesn’t know what to do about Sam and the responsibility is killing him. He looked up to John and thought he had all the answers. The temptation to make a deal and bring him back is ripe.

And then— we know that actually Dean would sell his soul for someone just like Evan did, like John did—someone he would rather die than live without, someone he loves with a desperation similar to Evan’s love for his wife. That person is Sam. Dean doesn’t realize this yet.

-Sam can tell what’s going through Dean’s head and becomes worried and scared, asking him not to go to the crossroads demon right now because “I don’t like where your head’s at.” He’s incredulous.

Dean argues “You’re not allowed to say no, Sammy, not unless you got a better idea.” This sounds like it’s one of their rules for hunting. They’ll try the next best idea whatever that may be because doing something is better than doing nothing.

Sam says “Dean you can forget it, alright. I’m not letting you summon that demon.” He’s being SO protective. Dean will do whatever Sam says unless Sam says Don’t go do something dangerous.

Sam tries to make Dean stay.

They talk about the likelihood that John made a similar deal, and Dean swallows and says “what if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul.” He waits for Sam’s reply, and seems truly afraid of what Sam will say, like Sam would say John shouldn’t have done that.

Sam gives him this look that’s got some fire in it, some conviction. Maybe he’s mad at Dean for his self-hatred.

Sometimes I forget that at this point in the story, Sam has almost lost Dean twice. Both times Sam was willing to do anything to get Dean back. He finally has his big brother back after years apart, and he is no longer in a position to really be able to go back to his normal life. He needs Dean, and he chose Dean. I don’t want to come across like Sam doesn’t care about John because genuinely I think it’s made clear that he does, but it is very much supported by the text that Sam would rather have Dean back even with John in hell than lose Dean. He told Dean that he’s the only one who’s always been there for him, he trusts Dean, he feels loved and protected by Dean, and when Dean and John were both in peril he went to Dean.

But we don’t get to find out what Sam would say to Dean’s question, because they’re interrupted. Sam unhappily watches Dean go.

-This whole scene where the crossroads demon offers to bring John back in exchange for Dean’s soul is so, so beautifully acted by Jensen. Dean’s plan all along is to trap the demon and exorcise her, and if he’s going to follow through, he can’t make that deal. He wants to. He feels guilty enough about John’s soul burning in hell for him forever, on top of his grief. When she finally steps into the trap he looks like he might cry. It worked, he moves forward with his plan without taking the deal offered. Why doesn’t he? It’s not what his dad would’ve wanted, obviously, and it’s not what Sam wants. Sam was explicitly worried about Dean making the deal and told him not to go. But I think it’s mostly that Dean hates demons. He makes quite a few sexual jokes this episode and talks about hitting on the front desk girl at animal control, but when the demon kisses him to seal their deal, he doesn’t even make a lascivious joke, he’s just disgusted—and the demon is possessing a beautiful woman who’s his type. His hatred for demons is personal. Demons quite literally killed his parents, ruined his life, and are mysteriously targeting and trying to corrupt his baby brother. They represent that black and white pure evil that he wants to salt and burn from the earth. So his feelings make sense.

-Dean talks about the way John died while he and Sam drive away. Dean doesn’t understand yet, what could make someone sell their soul to a demon.

I don’t think he has entertained the idea of what he would do if Sam died. The king of denial just won’t let it enter his brain.

Sam understands, though. He answers Dean really softly.

This is logical to Sam. He wanted John to prove he gave a shit about Dean, and he did. John did something right, and even though it makes Dean feel guilty, Sam would rather have a guilt-stricken Dean than no Dean.

[saltymongoose]

Hi coming in with another silly idea Imagine that the Player is in early Nevada, and around the time Nexus is supposed to fall they fall into a type of coma. Jeb goes through with his plan (painfully without the player by his side), Hofnarr turns into Tricky with his last thoughts begging for the Player to come back. Phobos' fight being much more easy due to the fact he thinks his god abandoned him. Then the Player comes back like "hey sorry about that" and Jeb starts wailing while Tricky goes YIPPEE and runs around them like an excited dog.

Why is everything you draw so cute omg 😭, everyone is so adorable here. It's honestly a little weird to see the Employers look so huggable, I love it.

To actually get into the scenario though, my thoughts on this are far too long to make it into a normal ask response, so you're getting some sort of unofficial hcs instead lol. Enjoy!

<The Player Falls into a Coma before the Fall> ft. Jebus, Hofnarr/Tricky, the Employers & Phobos

(TW: Yandere)

There was no warning for your sudden coma whatsoever. At most, you felt a tad more exhausted than usual at the end of the day, but this can be attributed to many different things, so of course you wouldn't worry about it. Neither would anyone else either, for that matter.

You had absolutely no idea that when you slowly fell asleep that night, you wouldn't be waking up again for a very long time.

It certainly wouldn’t take long for those you know to find out about your condition either. For one, Hofnarr and Jeb would want to recap their plan with you before going through with it, so naturally they stopped by for that. However, they find you unconscious and completely unresponsive to their every attempt to wake you. To make matters worse, there isn't a sign that you'd been awake at all in the past few days; the buildup of dust on your furniture and the letters in your mailbox shows as much.

Despite their worry, they’d eventually have to leave your side, if only to get more medical supplies and other things to help you. This opens up a window for the others in your life to finally take action, those being the Employers.

The shadowy figures had been keeping tabs on you all the time, so when you just didn't wake up, they would probably be the first to know - even if their actions came second to the Nexus Scientist's.

(You didn’t send the Deliberator a “good morning” text and he started panicking. What could possibly be so bad that you didn't speak to him? A cursory call to the worried AAHW agents the Auditor had sent to tail you was proof enough that you'd deviated from your usual schedule, and you weren't the type to ever be late.)

They were quick to take you from your home and to a more secret place, so that they could keep close observation over you.

Honestly, despite how much the Employers might brag about knowing you better than anyone else (a privilege they gained from being the first to realize your existence), they truly know little about your anatomy. However, they can tell that sleeping for full days isn't normal at all, judging by your previous behavior.

They're also far too stubborn to ask any other mortals for help as well, so they simply resigned to try to help you themselves while keeping you safe with them. They couldn't do much else, so hopefully you'd understand that once you awoke in a strange place.

Nevada rots without your guidance and the grunts you were close to were left reeling by this (unintentional) abandonment you committed.

Phobos loses much of his drive due to his own emotional frailty as he grappled with his uncharacteristic self-doubt and questioning. As it happens, this also makes him more zealous as well. In his last moments, he has a second wind, believing that if he just fights hard enough, you might decide to come back and help him in his battle against Christoff. (But you don't. You couldn't.)

Jebus' feelings are surprisingly parallel to the Director's in terms of worship and near zealotry. Except, he believes it might be his fault that you left, which only increases the fervor he has to complete his plans. It will be painful without you there, but this agony is his repentance for the sins which he has wronged you with. It is only through this that he believes you might show your presence once more, even if it’s not now.

Unfortunately, Hofnarr's transformation into Tricky was just as painful as it would be otherwise, and the pain of abandonment just makes it worse. Funny, how the pictures taken of you with him and Christoff were miraculously unscathed within Hofnarr's lab even after Tricky came to be. The zombified clown must have found some value in them, even if he couldn’t remember the complete reason why he felt so warm when he looked at them.

Of course, you did actually awaken eventually. You had no idea how much time had passed when you woke up, so seeing the Employers look so uncharacteristically worried when you woke up was really odd. You honestly think they’d be weepy if they had the ability to cry.

You really didn’t know how to react to the news that you’d essentially been in a coma for thirty years. Your first course of action is to find Jeb and Tricky to find out what actually happened since you feared your early appearance might’ve had an impact on the timeline regarding Nevada’s fall. This leads to very different reactions.

Jeb isn't one to typically show much vulnerability, but seeing you again completely shatters those walls he's kept up for so long. At first, he thinks you're just a hallucination; the culmination of all the longing he has for you finally taking its toll on his broken mind as almost a cruel joke. 

The first words he speaks to you after thirty years is a short, "You're not real", said as more of an insistence to himself than anything. But when he comes closer and you don’t disappear, and he reaches out a trembling hand to rest lightly on your shoulder, and you stay, he just breaks. The warmth of your form washes over him like it used to, and suddenly he feels an uncomfortable tightness well up in his throat as tears gather in his eyes.

You reach up to hold his taller form closer to you, sinking to the ground with him as he buries his face into your neck and sobs. His hold on you is soft, and his hands are still shaky; he's holding you like he's scared of shattering you, and he only gets weaker when you whisper soothing words and apologies to him.

Compared to Jebus, your meeting with Tricky was a lot more upbeat. It’s probably because he was spared much of the reflection and sorrow that Jeb went through due to his rather unstable mental state, but that didn’t stop him from somehow recognizing you. It’s almost like a switch flipped in his mind, and he went from violently slamming his sign into some poor grunt's face to freezing at the sight of your face.

He then tosses the sign away and almost launches himself at you to envelop you in a tight bear hug, screaming excitedly while you grin back rather tiredly. (You hope your eardrums will be okay after this.) But in the next second, he's whirling away from you, flailing his hands as he continues to talk.

It’s like being greeted by your dog after being away for months; he never stops moving or asking hurried questions about where you’ve been, intermittent with little words about how much he’s missed you.

Both Jeb and Tricky are very clingy after this. Even if they don't get along now, they're not willing to let you leave their sides after this, especially not when you go to sleep. (What if you fall into a coma again? Someone has to be there to take care of you.)

Deep down, they also have a striking suspicion that someone was behind your coma. They didn't know who exactly, but there was no other explanation to them than this. How else would you, Nevada's most powerful being, fall into such a state?

(In the near future, when you come across Hank and the others, let's just say that your scientists won't be deterred from leaving your side quite so easily. You'd been gone for thirty years, so you should only expect their companionship to remain more permanent for the coming years.)

[therealhousewifeofharrystyles]

Harry’s Home

Part II.

Read Part 1 Here!

Pairing/AU: Roommate!Harry // Roommate!Y/N

Word Count: ~ 8.7k words

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Lots of Flirting, Pining, Sexual Desire, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Mentions of Body-Type Biases, Fantasies of Rough Sex, Breeding Fantasies, ~Slow Burn~

My mom adores Harry (probably more than me, sometimes) and she’s confident that we’ll fall in love and get married within the next year or so. To Harry’s chagrin, his own mother seems to also be manifesting some sort of whirlwind romance to ignite within this cottage. Not to brag, but Anne Twist has already practically declared me as her daughter-in-law. She mirrors my mother’s doting of Harry, and I don’t mind it one bit. I’ve even heard Anne and Harry talking about me a few times during her brief visits to the states. Always pleasant things, thankfully.

One time, they were chatting in the kitchen while I’d just passed them to continue laundry in the room across the hall. I could hear every word—whilst I’m sure that Harry hoped to God I couldn’t hear any of it…but these walls are just so thin. 

“‘Scuse me, guys…just gotta get these goin’.” I smiled, making my way down the hallway with Harry’s clothes hamper. Before I’d passed by, I made eye contact with Harry for a brief moment. My heart sank as if I was nervous all of a sudden. I didn’t know why, but things felt weird that day. Between Harry and I, I mean. Normally, I wouldn’t even bat an eye whilst giving the man a quick greeting in passing. I lived with him, he was the first and last person I’d see and speak to every day, so I was used to his presence being a constant in my life. But that afternoon, something just seemed off. 

Maybe it had something to do with his mom visiting us—uh, I mean, him. Ugh, I’ve gotta quit making a habit out of grouping Harry and I together as a package deal. We’re not a couple. No matter how much his mom hugged and doted on me like I was her own daughter, the line was already drawn when we signed our lease.

That’s not to say that Anne has ever made me feel uncomfortable. Quite the contrary. It was strange how natural and familiar it felt to be around Harry’s mom. I suppose one thing that bothered me is that she’d tend to assume things about our relationship. And so the unavoidable reality of my roommate’s mother suspecting us to be more than just friends certainly made me a little uncomfortable. Actually, insecure would be a better word for it. I was insecure that I may have been too obvious in the way I care for Harry, and that I was stupid for even having thought he could feel anything similar towards me. 

I teetered between optimism and self-pity constantly. Men could be so complicated. Nay. Harry could be so complicated. But that’s beside the point. The real issue was the growing tension in the air…the flickering flame left unattended, slowly eating away at both Harry and myself for far too long. And Anne, of all people, would be the first one to bring attention to it.

Once I’d made it to the laundry room, I popped open the washing machine and dumped out all of Harry’s dirty clothes. I was truly minding my own business, drifting off in my own little world; but then I was yanked out by Anne and Harry’s restless banter that echoed down the hall and disturbed my relaxed state of autopilot.

“Oh, you’re cheeky, Harry.” Anne hummed. Even though they couldn’t see me anymore, my ears still worked fine from where I was. I don’t think Harry’s mom really intended to be quiet anyway. “What?” Harry asked after sighing. “Oh, don’t act so shy, dear. I’ve seen the way you look at her.” As the last words exited her mouth, it was like a light switched on inside of her. She gasped and swatted at Harry’s shoulder—him instantly reacting with a, “What I do?!” Anne then scoffed, “Why didn’t you tell me the two of you finally got together?!” A kaleidoscope of butterflies danced around the soft curls that cascaded down my shoulders and traveled south to tickle my belly. 

Harry looked at me…like that? In front of his own mother? So he wasn’t just a horny bastard…he was actually attract—

—“What on Earth are you talking about? Me ‘n her?!” Harry gestured towards the hallway. Anne pursed her lips and nodded. “Oi, tha’s ridiculous! Y/N and me?! Tha’s just…that’ll never happen…”

Oh, um…never mind.

“…‘Sides, mum, you’re mad if y’think I’d start somethin’ up' with my housemate. Just be makin’ things weird…She’s not even my type, anyway.”

I silently sighed out a breath and roughly dumped out the rest of Harry’s dirty clothes into the washer, a faint scowl adorning my face.

“Yeah, right. You can’t possibly expect me to believe any of that rubbish. I think you’re just afraid of getting hurt again.” I could tell by the sadness in her voice that she was frowning. “Oh, my poor baby boy. Don’t you think you should put yourself back out there, Lovie?” 

“No, no. It’s not because I’m afraid, mum. I’m just…I’m too busy. Vol. 6 is working on an autumn collection, and I’m in charge of the ad design. I’ve got a lot on my plate, you know?”

To be fair, Harry was actually getting pretty busy at work. He’d told me about the new campaign he’d been working on and how it needed to be approved by corporate by October. That meant he had a couple weeks to complete it. I was excited for him, as he’d become the brand’s lead marketing strategist earlier this year, which had provided him with a lot of decision-making power in his department. Surprisingly, the promotion made him slightly more humble, but in-turn, he was also a bit crankier at home. I think it was because he was overworking himself, honestly.

Anne huffed and said, “Well, not everything in life has convenient timing, dear. Y/N could get scooped up tomorrow and you’d have completely blown it f’yourself!” The front door opened and it sounded to me that they’d slowly made it out onto the front porch. Harry kept the door open, as there was a slight chill in the air and I assumed he was also feeling a bit flushed at the time, so the breeze was welcomed. Since Harry didn’t shut the door, I was still able to listen to their conversation from the laundry room. Though, their voices became less intelligible due to the distance and the outdoor ambiance.

“Oi, mum! Please keep your voice down!” I found it funny how Harry was claiming he had nothing but platonic feelings for me—that he was too busy and we weren’t compatible in that way at all—yet, he sounded so desperate to ensure I wasn’t able to overhear their discussion. If he didn’t care about me romantically, why would he be so adamant about keeping Anne’s volume down? Why would he be so defensive about it? It’s not like he’d be lowballing if he were to go for me. I may not be perfect, but I don’t have to be a skinny little model with legs for days—my body has curves to die for, and no man has to worry that he’ll break me in half. My feelings are fragile, but I can take a good, hard fucking any day of the week. Hell, I’d take it every day of the week if it were up to me. And for his information—I have…it’s just been a while…

“She’s doin’ your laundry, for bloody sake!” That was true, I was doing his laundry. But that was only because Harry’s always insisted that I do it. Ever since this one time when we were sitting on the couch together, and I was falling asleep watching tv. Attempting to get more comfortable, I’d stretched my legs out towards him and laid back against a pillow and the couch arm. Luckily for me, Harry was nice enough that night to let me get away with using him as a leg rest without any complaints. I also remember him starting to doze off. Instead of pushing me out of the way and going up to bed, he squeezed himself to lay behind me and spooned me. He nuzzled his face into my hair and into my neck, and then rested his cheek against my shoulder. I then heard the rumble of his sleepy voice as he said, “Mmh…you smell…s’sweet…kinda like vanilla…I like tha’…wanna smell ya all the time…you should wash my clothes f’me so I can smell you on me wherever I go…”

At the time, as I laid there in a soft daze with Harry’s strong, inked arms wrapped around my middle, his stubble scratching my neck, and something firm rocking back and forth ever-so-gently against my ass…my heart soared at his words, and I couldn’t bear to deny him his request.

Later, standing alone with an alert mind sans sexy, tattooed, British rake pressed tightly against my plush body—I was no longer swooning. Harry was perfectly capable of using the same combination of detergent, softener, and scent beads that I use. If he desired my aroma so badly, the ingredients would’ve been all he needed. I guess he was in charge of cooking and the dishes, so there wasn’t really an imbalance of responsibilities. But, damn. What a doormat I'd been for going through with that. He may be insanely hot, but he’s still just as stinky as the rest of them. Sure, I’ve been more than happy to fold all his clean clothes for him, but only if they’re fresh out of the dryer and smell all light and powdery like Downy.

“No, no, we split the difference! She’s got the laundry, and I’ve got the, uh…kitchen. Cooking and all tha’.” Even though he was responding defensively, he was only digging himself a deeper hole in front of his mother. She saw right through all those excuses, explanations, etc. So did I. However, Anne was approaching her disbelief a lot differently than how I would’ve if it were me who he was blabbing all that nonsense to. Granted, I didn’t raise him from infancy, nor had I even known the man for very long. But the truth was that Harry’s never been great at confrontation—well, when he’s on the opposite end of it, at least. And so he tended to struggle with his words whenever someone caught him at a time when he wasn’t prepared. 

“I know you’ve got feelings f’her, Gemma knows you do…hell, I bet Y/N even knows it! C’mon, Harry. You two are so cute!” Anne sounded absolutely delighted. I didn’t blame her, but I couldn’t share her same excitement.

Instead of stepping in and saving Harry from any further humiliation from his mother, I decided I’d just stay hidden and let him dig himself out on his own. He’s a grown man, he could fight his own battles. Besides, I was too busy doing his fucking laundry.

“I—Gemma’s a right nutcase, and you know tha’, mum!” Harry whispered.

“Oh, nonsense. Gem knows you even better than I do, Harry!”

I have to give credit to Anne for so shamelessly putting him on the spot like that. Typically, I was the one who tripped over the simplest of words and phrases. It’s just in my timid nature. But it was entertaining to hear someone else—someone who’s normally so haughty and snide—experiencing that kind of social mishap. Especially since that same person tended to use my weakness against me. Karma’s a bitch, huh, Harry?

“That pest—!” He seethed before Anne immediately cut him off.

“—Oi, hey! Be nice to your sister, Harry! You know, one day, when I’m all old and sickly…”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“...You’ll want me to live with her! Keep up that attitude, boy, and you’ll be the one changing my diapers!”

Aw, what a Hallmark moment.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if Harry was white-knuckling the doorknob. I could picture it vividly—deep lines between his brows, nostrils flaring, his free hand held up to his bottom lip, whilst his sweet mother grinned ear to ear and pinched at his adorable, pink cheeks. “...Ooh, but Harry, lovie, it’s so exciting to think that once you and Y/N finally get together, I’ll have a second daughter! God, I just can’t wait for the wedding!” Anne squealed. Harry must’ve glared at his mother right then because I couldn’t hear him say anything. “Do you think you’ll have it here, or will we fly you back home? In that case, it’ll probably need to be a smaller ceremony, hm? ‘Could always have the ceremony in Holmes, and then close family can fly out for a reception here. I’ve heard of couples doing things of that sort…No matter—we’ll cross that road when we get to it.” She beamed with a quick laugh.

My cheeks hurt and I didn’t know why until I noticed I’d been fighting a smile. I felt childish. It was silly to consider all of that stuff even remotely possible—I mean, Harry and I being a couple. Thinking about us getting married…no, no…that could never happen. Just as he said.

“My grandchildren are going to be so beautiful!” Suddenly my fantastical mother-in-law sang from the front porch.

G-Grandchildren..? I’d almost dumped the entire jug of detergent into the washing machine at that one. Marriage was one thing. But giving birth to…m-m-multiple children?! 

I didn’t have any intention to have a baby—let alone babies, plural. I might’ve not wanted children at all…well, maybe one…or I could just forget about the classic American Dream and get a cat instead. I had no clue. But now I was thinking about it. 

More than just thinking about it, though. I was fantasizing.

My mind was locked on the specific scenario of Harry impregnating me. Marking me as his own. Sowing his seed deep inside my fertile cervix. Hot waves of liquid heat then soaked into the crotch of my panties. I guess my body was quite fond of that fantasy.

As the damp cotton between my generous thighs uncomfortably clung to my sensitive skin, I thought I’d might as well just add them to the wash. So I pushed them down my legs and stepped out of them before taking a moment to examine the evidence of my obnoxious downpour of arousal. I bit my lip at the sight of the large, sodden stain. How was that arrogant asshole able to do this kind of shit to me? He wasn’t even in the room!

I scoffed, shaking my head at the humiliating outcome of my sexual deprivation and desperation, and flung the soiled panties into the machine. Good thing I was wearing a dress where the skirt was long enough to cover my newly-bare ass and cunt. Well, provided I wouldn’t be standing at the even slightest off-angle. Lord, I was so grateful to have been out of sight as my body was bent over at the waist, reaching out for the fabric softener.

Whilst I kept on loading the washer, I was also daydreaming about my newest fantasy. 

Maybe I wouldn’t mind bearing Harry’s children…one wouldn’t be so bad, would it? I wouldn’t be all that against weaning off my birth control and letting the inevitable happen. You know…once he’d pump all his hot cum inside me…He could give it to me every morning before work…after work…before bed…in the middle of the night…hell, if he called me on a lunch break asking if I could take another load, I know I wouldn’t be able to resist. Standing commando in the laundry room got me wondering what Harry would do if I just started walking around the house with tiny little shorts and dresses and rompers with nothing on underneath (except for a bra, probably. I’d need the support). I was grateful for my large, gap-less thighs at that moment as I could sense that more moisture was threatening to escape down my wobbly legs.

I was trying my best not to peek out from the laundry room to witness the scene unfolding for myself, but I stood still with my back pressed against the washing machine, Anne’s words repeating themselves over and over again in my head. Whether any of that dreamy nonsense was true…that Harry had romantic feelings for me…it just wasn’t realistic. I had to remind myself that it was just a bunch of harmless teasing. That Harry’s mom was exaggerating the truth for a laugh. Making up elaborate future plans to get his goat. Yeah, that’s all it was. I could understand why she’d push Harry into throwing one of his lil’ man-tantrums—he’s awfully adorable when he’s stuttering and all red in the face, having the hardest time letting it go.

Growing curious, and not being able to hear them as clearly anymore, I moved myself out from the laundry room and closer towards them at the entryway. I still kept myself somewhat hidden behind one of the large wooden columns situated between the hallway and the front door, near the kitchen’s island counter. I was right when I assumed they’d already made it outside onto the front porch. Anne was so close to actually leaving, but I guess Anne preferred to do a Minnesota goodbye that afternoon. She proceeded to gush about Harry’s non-existent future with me, adding more details for wedding planning. Meanwhile, Harry was trying to keep her mouth shut in the most patient and polite manner he’d deemed possible. He’d already stayed silent through the comments about providing his mother with grandchildren, but it seemed as though she wasn’t going to end the discussion any time soon. It was time to take more drastic measures. He knew better than to be disrespectful towards his mother, and he never intended to blatantly disrespect her in any way. Except, by this point, Harry was reaching the limit of his patience. If it meant he could keep his personal business from reaching curious ears, he’d be willing to suffer the consequences.

“ALRIGHT! I GET IT! SHHHHH!” Harry was desperate to get her out the door as soon as he could at that moment. He’d never act that way towards his mother, otherwise. Anne, however, was not in the mood to tolerate his behavior. It didn’t matter that Harry was a full-grown, 30-year-old man. A mother will always be a mother. She gasped at the way her son tried to silence her and lightly smacked his shoulder. I saw it coming from a mile away, and I wasn’t even technically there.

“Don’t you shush your mother, Harry Edward.” She tsk-tsked. “But—!” Before he could even defend himself, Anne cut him off. “—Enough! Zip it.” The snap of her fingers made my mind create a hilarious image of Harry standing there at 6-feet tall, but presenting as a tiny toddler on the verge of a tantrum. I had to muffle my giggle with my hand.

Then, I decided to sneak a quick glance from behind the column. From where I was, I could see Harry leant up against our opened front door, his arms crossed over his abdomen, one set of long, ringed digits pulling at his lips. “Oi, and quit picking your lips! She’ll never wanna kiss you if you’re all chapped ‘n bleedin’, lovie!” 

“Oh, f’fuck’s sake!” He whisper-yelled. I heard him smack his palms down at his sides like some crabby 3 year-old having just been told to behave himself. Anne cracked up at her son’s childish display of whiny defiance. “Alright, well, I’ll head out now. Gotta give you two some alone time.” Harry’s mom hummed suggestively. I rolled my lips into my mouth and fought not to laugh out loud.

Then, I had a feeling that, to Harry, I must’ve seemed to be ‘minding my own business’ for a bit too long in the laundry room, and that I should’ve actually been finished with the chore by that time. Except I’d just been eavesdropping like a nosey-Nellie for their entire conversation. Mildly flustered, I bolted back to the laundry room, opened the dryer, and began to hastily pull all the warm towels and linens out from the front of the machine. I was pretty sure my breakaway was ‘smooth’ enough that they had no idea I was snooping. Well, I knew for sure that Harry didn’t…or at least that’s what I thought. 

It was a good thing towels aren’t able to make much of a ruckus when they’re dropped into a plastic basket. I made sure to fuss around—emptying the lint trap, reorganizing the coat-rack, gathering stray hangers, and clicking the ‘start’ button on the washing machine. I was doing all of that just to make up an internal alibi of sorts for having been putzing for so long. Just in case. 

In the midst of my rush to complete miscellaneous tasks, some of the dust from the lint trap puffed out into the air in front of my face as I was dumping it out, and I had to hold a knuckle to my nose in an effort to keep an incoming sneeze at bay. Eventually, the tickle died down and I could carry on dicking around and acting busy. 

“That’s a wonderful plan, Mum. Be seein’ you.” Harry sighed.

“I LOVE YOU, BOTH!” Anne called out with a slight amplification, intending to also inform me of her departure. “Love you, too!” I responded, almost instantaneously, also at the exact same time as Harry. My voice ricocheted against the walls and I knew I’d been much too quick to speak. My hand immediately slapped over my mouth once the words left my lips. There was no way I could’ve convinced Harry anymore that I’d been genuinely oblivious of their back-and-forth, innocently occupied by a pile of towels for the past 5-10 minutes. If he didn’t already know that I was listening in on them, Harry definitely realized it then. But everything just proceeded as usual—Harry grumbling back at his mother, returning her affections with a huff. 

“Um, also, could you let Gemma know that if she keeps running her mouth, she can bloody forget about her early-access to the autumn catalog? Cheers.”

The door closed after one final guffaw from Anne, and Harry hastily turned the lock before eventually releasing a frustrated breath into his hands. I decided it was a good time to get going with my chores.

A basket of warm washcloths, towels, and sheets was held between my plump hip and my soft hands. As I exited the laundry room, the heat radiating off the freshly-tossed cloth caused a flush of pink to wash over my skin. It was a nice contrast to the cool breeze that had entered through our front door. I made eye-contact with Harry who then let his hands drop from his face once he met my eyes looking through his fingers. Warmth radiated off of him like a space heater, his cheeks were flushed red, and it seemed as though he was burning up—unaffected by the bite of the autumn air.

Maybe he’d also been imagining the two of us making babies. Or maybe he was just mortified by the way his mother assumed our relationship to be more intimate than it truly was. It was possible that the idea of marrying me made him nauseous—and not just in an innocent, nervous way, either. Rather, he was disgusted by imagining such intimate things involving me.

Regardless, I found him adorable whenever he blushed like that. To me, his rare displays of bashfulness brought him back down to earth, and they reminded me of the fact that we were similarly human. Similarly sensitive. Similarly deep in our thoughts. I don’t know why he made a point out of telling Anne that I wasn’t “his type.” Obviously, he hadn’t had much lasting success with whoever fits into his “type,” so maybe he could use someone new for a change... 

As I approached him, I gave him a kind smile and greeted him with a simple question.

“So, what’s for dinner?” I beamed at him sweetly.

Right as I was a meter or two away from him, I suddenly needed to sneeze again. That incessant tickle that tortures the nostrils and sinuses before raging out of the body—it came back to sabotage me in that moment. My previous attempt at holding it in was deemed absolutely useless, as this time it felt like the sneeze doubled in magnitude purely out of spite. My body was fighting against me. The universe was laughing, finding my indignity entertaining. I guess that’s what I get for eavesdropping, huh?

I sniffled a few times—my last efforts to prevent the inevitable. But I had failed. I sucked in a deep breath before “achoo”-ing into my elbow. It was a loud, high-pitched sneeze. If I hadn’t known it came from me, I would’ve assumed the television was turned on in the living room, playing a children’s cartoon. At least I didn’t shoot snot onto my pretty, ruffled sleeves. Or worse, failing to cover my nose and mouth and sneezing right onto Harry. Gotta look for the silver linings, you know?

Unfortunately, my sneeze miraculously sent the blushing boy, who felt so close to my level, back up to his normal self—reuniting him with his high-horse, his pedestal, his soapbox, his big head, and everything else that keeps him standing at a mile taller than me. 

“Oh, my goodness…God bless you…” Harry bellowed, his hand pressed to his heart in mock-aghast. Though he was taunting me, I oddly didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. He paused and his lips formed the cruelest smirk before he continued, “…my sweet Bunny.” My thighs subconsciously squeezed together at him using his favorite pet-name he has for me. What I’d never let him know was how it was my favorite, too. 

“Humph, thanks.” I sniffled, trying my best to pretend unfazed by the special nickname. His eyes finally drifted down my figure, and it seemed he was parched due to the way he was drinking me in through his pupils. Everything around me, especially Harry, seemed massive compared to my shrinking frame. Perspectives were changing drastically, and I was no longer safe from Harry’s sharp scrutiny. I was aware I’d been the one to place myself under his spotlight—that I had the ability to stay in my lane and keep my nose clean—but I was too weak. I craved his attention. I was starving for it—for every inch of me to be thoroughly inspected and explored by that smug son of a bitch whilst he just stood there and acted like he owned me. 

I wanted him, and I wanted him bad.

My bottom-energy may seem readily accessible to Harry, but that’s only because he’s made it so easy for me to tempt him into his dominance. I just knew he was internally obsessing over how he’d further push me into submission. That’s one of the many reasons why being a sub is so liberating. I’m the motivation. I’m the star of the show. I’m the cum-dump. And God, I’d been wanting for so long to be all of those things and more for Harry. Only Harry.

As I continued walking in his direction, a washcloth accidentally fell onto the floor by his feet. “Ope, sorry…” I squeaked. I stepped up to him so that we were directly in front of one another. I dramatically dropped to a bend at my knees—spreading them widely apart in a bouncy crouch in order to retrieve the rogue towel, giving Harry a nice view of my cleavage as I stretched my arm downwards over my hiked-up skirt, intentionally pressing my breasts together with my straightened elbow. If only he was at a lower angle, then he could’ve seen a different set of drooling lips desperate for his cock…

Christ, alive—I am so glad I wasn’t ballsy enough to accidentally say that out loud.

His eyes followed my movements, but he stood in that same spot unwaveringly, not stepping away even a little bit. My confidence strengthened due to his intense fixation upon me. The basket I was holding at my waist was slightly tipping at the new angle whilst I was reaching for the washcloth. My gaze flickered down to the basket, then back up at Harry. Ambitiously provocative ideas and scenarios flooded my brain. I thought about what would happen if I were to dump the basket onto the floor on purpose just to provoke him. Perhaps he’d tease me for my clumsiness and help me. Or maybe he’d get pissy instead and leave me to my mess. My body reacted out of curiosity and desire before my brain had the chance to refute the idea. Well, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, right? 

The towels had poured out onto the floor at Harry’s feet in a massive heap. Letting out a soft gasp, feigning shock, I set the basket aside and knelt all the way down to sit on my knees. I blinked my doll-like lashes back up at Harry, whose stare never left me, and I couldn’t distinguish what he was thinking, let alone feeling. His expression was set in a firm deadpan. He could’ve been on the verge of an outburst, but he also could’ve been plainly unimpressed by my foolish antics. The man was annoyingly skilled at masking when he wanted to be.

I swallowed thickly at the silence. On the inside, I was kicking and screaming with regret. Why did I think he was going to play with me?! Why, after hearing him explicitly tell his mother that he wasn’t interested in me, did I believe it would be a good idea to get on my knees in front of the man?! He obviously didn’t desire me! I was humiliated. Rather than scrambling back onto my feet like a fool, I thought it would be best if I were to just stay in character. Hoe hard or hoe home.

“Oh, no…I’m sorry, Harry.” I managed to peep out without my composure cracking. My voice was small and cute, but it still held enough power to it that I saw Harry’s jaw clench. It worked. I finally saw him narrow his eyes down at me with a tight jaw and flared nostrils. Sure, Sarah warned me that he had a hot temper, but she never told me how sexy he gets when his buttons are pressed. I’d witnessed it myself a few times before this, but my body perceived it differently as I was down on my knees. 

My breathing became harsh, my cleavage rising and falling more noticeably as I anxiously awaited more of a reaction from the man before me. I realistically expected a snarky quip and an eyeroll. Inversely, his face gave the impression that he was frustrated and struggling to keep it together. I was confused as to why he hadn’t raised his voice at me yet. I expected him to be in more of a sensitive mood after his mother embarrassed him just a few minutes prior. I guess all that talk of marriage and babies didn’t have much of a negative effect on him after all. Harry stayed stoic, and his silent glare was locked onto me for a good minute. 60 seconds is dreadfully long when there’s nothing but steamy sexual-tension filling the room. My filthy mind had me imagine he was fighting his urge to throw me down prone onto the cold hardwood, lift my dress up over my ass, and spank me until I was begging him to fuck me. That was certainly my ideal outcome. 

Logically speaking though, I could tell from the speckles of amber in his sage eyes that his emotions were in the red zone—he was angry. It wasn’t because of the mess. No. 

Harry may be a himbo, but he’s not stupid. He knew what I was thinking, he knew why I was acting the way I was, and he definitely wasn’t going to let me get away with any of it.

He was hatching his own plan, and I was convinced a part of it was stretching this out for as long as he could physically restrain his primal instincts. It excited him to play this little game with me. How did I know? Because the bulge in his pants was almost at my exact eye-level, and I had no shame in looking right at it. 

Why wouldn’t I? That was my doing. I deserved to observe my hard work from my delicate little point-of-view.

Feeling a bit more daring after successfully bothering Harry with my suggestive positioning on the floor beneath him, I pouted my bottom lip and grabbed onto the bottom hem of my skirt, dragging it up and down my juicy thighs tauntingly yet sheepishly. The goal was to tease him and guilt him at the same time as if to tip-toe around being blatantly naughty. The breathy moan I’d added on top of it all definitely did him in because I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped at the sound. 

My gaze fell back down to the tightness in the front of his pants for just a second or so, and I couldn’t help the giggles that escaped me. Once the reality of the situation finally set in, I was unable to hide my true intentions.

There I was—on my knees, looking up at him, my tits pushed out, eyes rounded and glossed over, my angelic face adorned with a devil-woman’s lip-biting grin, and the rate at which I was collecting each piece of laundry was just too agonizingly slow to be a legitimate attempt at the task. 

You know what…he could’ve pulled his cock out and fucked my throat right then and there. He could’ve pushed me down onto my back and flipped my skirt up before shoving himself deep inside my needy little cunt. He could’ve demanded me to sit pretty while he jerked off onto my sweet little face. He could have held me down and made me scream so loud that Anne would’ve heard me from her car, which was probably already 10 blocks away and counting at that point.

He had the ability to do whatever he wanted to me; I was physically and mentally incapable of resisting him. And yet, there I sat, my natural essence dripping down the backs of my thighs as Harry had me wrapped around his finger—and he didn’t do a single fucking thing to me. 

And so I huffed, and I repeated what I’d asked him previously before I sneezed, and before he said the one word that tipped me into my subspace.

“Humph…What are we having for dinner?” I asked softly, my voice sultry, yet impatient, and I had my arms crossed over my chest to emphasize my defiance towards him.

Harry took a deep breath and reached out to me. He caressed the side of my face and jaw with his gentle hand. I leaned into his touch as I awaited his answer. I was literally in the palm of his hand—I mean, if he was holding bread crumbs, I’d be licking it all up without a second thought. I would take anything and everything from him. What had this asshole done to me?

I felt his thumb slide up from my chin to fondle my bottom lip. It grazed from side to side for a while before he pulled downwards, tugging my lip down and releasing it. The gesture caused me to keep my lips separated for him. Harry took advantage of the small opening by pushing the same digit through to make contact with my slick tongue, and I instinctually gaped my mouth wider to grant him more access to my drooling entrance. He tapped the pad of his thumb onto my tongue a few times and I moaned at the taste of him—at simply the salt of his skin. My lips wrapped around his thumb and I gently suckled. I can’t even imagine how much of a desperate slut I made myself look like as I slowly nursed on his thumb and hummed against its warm tip with my eyes lazily rolling back. 

He just observed me in my catatonic bimbo state. He stood there and allowed me to put on that pathetic display on the floor at his feet for a few moments longer. I was sure he’d got just as much pleasure out of it as I did, as the sensual act taking place before him had forced a moan out of his throat.

He slowly pulled out of my drooling mouth and rubbed the wetness across my pink lips. 

“D-Did you hear me?” I whispered breathlessly against Harry’s slippery thumb, my lashes fluttering up at him. “Yes, love. Of course I heard you...” He sighed. Then, he bent down to a crouch, lowering himself down to my height so he could speak directly to me. “...But…I don’t think it really matters what we have, hm…?” My brows furrowed in confusion which made him smile. Then he continued, “...You’ll take whatever I choose to give you, won’t you, Bun’...?” 

His fingers raked through my hair lovingly as he said it. His voice was so soft yet the words so deafening at the same time. They pounded against my eardrums and almost knocked me on my ass when they left his lips. 

I just nodded in reply, my eyes and my mouth glistening as rays of the afternoon glow beamed in from the front window and illuminated my irises. Harry’s mouth twitched as if he was fighting a smile. He never once took his eyes off of me. I had all of his attention, and it was addicting.

“...Mmh, sweet girl…never you doubt these ears of mine, either…I can assure you, I hear everything…”

I couldn’t stop the helpless whimper that came out of me. It was like he was speaking to me through code—telling me much more than what his words were able to reveal.

The sun was setting beyond the glass at our home’s entrance. The air around us was almost bitterly chilly. I typically preferred the cold, but it seemed to be much more noticeable at the time. Goosebumps covered my arms, my neck, and my bare knees. I was feeling exposed and naked regardless of my dainty dress providing modesty.

But I could still feel Harry’s hot breath warming the cooled tip of my nose. His closeness cloaked my bare shoulders with security. Even though the wooden floor was bruising me, I felt entirely protected by Harry’s touch. By his presence. By his expressive adoration of me. My heart pulsed so hard against my chest, yet Harry seemed so relaxed. So calm. So strong. I needed him. I could not continue this ridiculous charade of ignoring my natural instincts just so that I can protect my feelings from potential social betrayal. His eyes bore into mine so deeply, so intensely. It was like they held me there, silently commanding me to keep being good for him. I’ve always been such a good girl for him. His best girl. 

Whatever he wanted, I knew at that very second that I’d obey each demand with a goddamn smile on my face. It didn’t matter what he desired to give me. Whatever it was, I would take it, no questions asked. I lived off of his affections, addicted to the attention he provided. Was he as intoxicated by this as I was? Was he holding back? Did he need me, too?

Before I could even stutter out a response, Harry rose back up to his feet—releasing me from his trance and his touch by curling a lock of my hair through his fingers and setting it bouncing free.

“...I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you, a’right?” He assured me kindly. 

I confirmed my understanding with a  subtle nod. My lips rubbed together and I swallowed the abundance of moisture that had threatened to drip down the sides of my mouth.

“Th-thank you.” I just about squeaked out.

With that, he smiled sweetly and backed away into the kitchen.

The next thing I knew, I was still sitting alone near the entryway, my fingers fiddling with the tag of one of the bedsheets from the pile. I was worried I’d made a puddle below me with my arousal, but my legs had been clenched too tightly for any of it to escape past my thighs. My knees were suddenly aching from the stiff support of the hardwood, and the clean linens—of which had been forgotten about since before I’d even taken them out of the dryer—were all cool and wrinkled. I shoved them all back into the basket as quickly as I could and hid in the laundry room until he called out to me that the food was ready. 

Harry was right. I took whatever it was he made for us that night without a second thought. If he hadn’t already served me a plate, I probably would’ve eaten out of his bare hands. My brain had completely shut down for the rest of the evening. I remember I had to take care of the ache between my legs right after our meal, it was so unbearable.  

That reminds me—didn’t he mention something about his ears? 

🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠

I typically get home from work before Harry does, and so my current state of rest and relaxation—coincidentally adjacent to the book I’m holding: My Year of Rest and Relaxation—is an occurrence Harry’s used to coming home to by now. I mean, not that he’s coming home to me. He’s just…coming home, and I also happen to be living here. Speaking of which, I’m situated in my bedroom. I've already slipped into my night clothes—thin, loose pajama pants and an oversized crop tee—laying my back against the cushioned headboard of my bed. 

Suddenly, my ears perk up. The hum and vibration of the garage door opening and closing pulls my attention away from the novel I’d been engrossed in for the past hour towards my empty door frame. Less than a minute later, a door slams, physically startling me, and my posture straightens as if I’m expecting a scolding from an authority figure. I have no reason to react this way, really. It’s not like this is anything out of the ordinary.

Harry’s home.

That’s all. But judging by the door slams, I should prepare myself for the likelihood that Harry’s had a bad day (again). He’s been so overworked lately, but he doesn’t like to talk out his stressors in much detail or duration because it just riles him up more. More accurately, in his own words:

“I appreciate that you care, Bun’. I do…but it’s just too complicated…’s too much to get into right now. Think I’m just gon’ meditate, or whateva’.”

His therapist definitely had more to advise him beyond meditation, but I think that Harry just cherry-picked whatever was closest to what he’s accustomed to…and so he thinks that his isolation method is perfectly justified (as long as he calls it meditation). He’d never admit to that, though; and I’d never call him out on it either. I know better than to poke an angry bear.

Harry believes he can continue living and avoiding the inevitable, but I have a good feeling that he’ll take me up on my offer sometime soon. I just want to help him relax. Help him release some of that built-up tension. However, he prefers to hide himself away whilst simmering in a fuming silence until his primal instincts are numbed away. 

I wished that I could be some sort of Black Widow to his Hulk—although the incredible sulk would be more like it…but he can’t stand being around anyone when he’s angry, not even me—nay—especially not me. 

I can’t help but to feel somewhat unworthy. As if Harry isn’t comfortable enough with me to unpack all of his emotional baggage. Or maybe it’s not that I feel unworthy, per say, but rather that I’m sick and tired of waiting for him to make a fucking move on me already. I’ve been patient for so long. The least he can do is use me as his stress relief…in whatever way he needs to. Honestly, I’m not picky anymore. I’m dying for anything he can give me at this point. 

We've had our arguments as I’ve mentioned. He'll seclude himself in his bedroom for an hour and eventually knock on my door once he’s cooled down to apologize. The vulnerability and innocence he shows me is quite sweet. I appreciate that side of him. And I understand that the man needs his space. It makes sense to me because whenever I’m upset, I’d prefer to be alone as well. So each time Harry taps his rings all melodically against my door after one of his little fits, I always acknowledge him warmly by opening the door and pulling him in for a hug. Emotional compatibility is one of our greatest strengths as…friends. I think he appreciates me in that way, too.

It’s become a thing with us now—ever since the day that I cried. I’ve never shared a closeness like this with another person until I moved in with Harry. We have this mutual understanding that home is a feeling, not a place. And honestly, I’ve internally accepted the fact that it wouldn’t have mattered where we would’ve lived—as long as I was with Harry, I’d be at home. 

To me, Harry’s home.

One time, we brought this topic up…Harry likes to refer to it as the ‘kindness law’ or something like that. Harry began with, “Well, I jus’ wanna treat you the way I wanna be treated—w’kindness.” He sighed, plopping onto his back on his bed and resting his hands behind his head, looking at me. I stood at the foot of his bed with my hands on my hips. He not-so-subtly raked his eyes over my figure and smirked to himself.

“So, you’re gonna be nice to me now that I’m doing your laundry, Styles?”

He chuckled and scooted up the bed until he could rest his back against his headboard. “Mmm, tha’s right. I do have you doin’ my wash. Y’so good to me, Bunny...” I rolled my eyes and turned to walk out, but Harry quickly grabbed my hand in protest. “…Oy, where y’goin’?” I looked back at him over my shoulder and giggled. “What, Harry.” I asked with a bored voice, but a cheeky smile on my face to counteract it. “Wasn’t finisshhhhed-uh!”

I was typically the whiner, so I was immediately cringing at the sound of Harry’s attempt at my art. He playfully tugged on my arm until I clumsily toppled over face-down onto his bed, and he chose my giggle fit as the perfect time to continue his speech about…whatever it was he was talking about.

“Alright, now that the class is all here…let me continue…” He boasted confidently. I slowly calmed down and propped myself up onto my elbows next to his lap, my loose curls messed and my oversized, off-shoulder sweater disheveled enough that he now had an excellent view of what was beneath my sweater: my ample breasts and the plunging push-up bra holding them up. 

I smiled and nodded my head, signaling for him to carry on. He cleared his throat and ran a hand awkwardly through his hair. 

“So…” He hesitated, noticeably struggling to remember what he was saying previously. “Kindness?” I reminded him. “Yes, yes…kindness. Uh…well, uh…Home is where, um, where love’s made, or whateva’, yeah?”

I practically squealed and I added, “Ooh, yeah! Home is where we make all the love, huh, Harry?” Harry just blushed and shook his head. He was trying desperately not to stare at my chest as my lower half sunk down onto the floor and I held my hands and breasts against the edge of his bed whilst I wheezed with laughter. He spent the following 10 minutes with a pillow over his lap and he eventually asked me to leave because he was tired…

The only reason this had been remotely funny beyond our shared childish humor was because neither of us had anything going on in that department for ages. Actually, come to think of it, I don’t think we’ve ever discussed each other’s sex lives. But what I know for certain is that both of us have been extremely horny. It’s been dreadful. According to Mitch, Harry hasn’t had sex in at least a solid year and he can’t even remember who he last slept with. 

Apparently, there’s just this vivid memory Harry has of not being able to stay hard, the other person complaining, and then everything suddenly stopped. Harry quickly grabbed all his clothes and just rushed straight out the door to drive back home to me. The only reason I can attest to this rumor of Mitch’s is that I remember when he came home that night. He reeked of cheap, floral body spray, his eyes were puffy as if he’d been sobbing the whole car ride home, and he burst through the door calling out for me. He apologized if he had woken me up, as it was a bit past midnight. However, I was still up watching reruns of The Nanny and nursing on a pint of ice cream when he came home, so I just laughed at him. He told me to pause the show and hurried to his bedroom to change his clothes. I silently thanked God he did because the second-hand perfume stench was stale and it made me a little nauseous. His natural scent is much more pleasant than whatever that girl was wearing. Not to mention a part of me died inside at the thought of Harry being close enough to another girl for that long to come home smelling so strongly of her.

Once he’d switched into new clothes—a fitted t-shirt and flannel pajama pants—he’d climbed up onto my bed and eventually squirmed his way into laying his head atop my thighs. My hand brushed through his soft curls that had loosened into waves by that time. I think he fell asleep in my lap after one episode. It felt so natural in the moment that I, myself, started to doze off. And so I turned the tv off and pulled the man’s lean body down onto the pillows so I could be the big spoon and I held him. We fell asleep like that.

The next morning, I woke up and he’d already left my bed. It hurt me to see he was gone. But I had no reason to take it personally. He’d just had a rough night and he needed some love. I was happy to have been the one to give it to him—even if it was just some innocent, virtually-platonic cuddling, and nothing more. A part of me still ached a little bit whenever I thought back to how Harry chose to release himself from my arms and abandon the cozy nest we’d unintentionally made together. Maybe that was just the lonely part of me feeling that way. I’m not gonna lie, it’s been a while since I’d been sexually intimate with someone as well. I’ve never brought anyone back to the house (neither has he), but Harry always notices when I get dressed up to go out and then come home late…and he knows I was with someone else because—similar to the way his scent had been overcome by a putrid cloak of trashy body spritz—my signature scent would also be significantly altered. It causes a stir in Harry. He knows how childish it is to huff and puff to himself in his bedroom as he waits for my arrival. He knows he shouldn’t be upset when the two of us aren’t romantically involved. And he knows I‘ll always come trudging my way back home…back to my own bedroom where I end up finishing the job for myself. Regardless of his understanding of the situation, Harry refuses to act upon it. Refuses to take initiative. And I have no fucking idea why.

🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠

Part 3

Writer's Notes: Hi, everyone! Ok so there will be at least 2 more parts to this baby. Again, I'm sorry I suck at updating regularly. I have a job and stuff lol. Also I'm a compulsive perfectionist when it comes to my writing, and I'll re-read my work and edit it until it's a million pages long...but I hope y'all like what I post and that you wanna read more! Please like, reblog, follow, send me messages/requests/submissions/anons, and let me know if you wanna be on my taglist! And I appreciate any and all feedback you can give me. Truly. Thank you for reading. :) xoxo - Regan <3

@victoria-styles @daphnesutton @pishhhh20989

[marbles-for-breakfast]

Thoughts/Arguments about Endogenic systems:

(for context, I’m probably best described as “quoigenic”, but I don’t really identify with any origin label because I think they ultimately cause more confusion than clarity)

Firstly, for those who don’t know, the term endogenic is about the narrative of your own existence. It was created by a diagnosed DID system which believes they were born plural and would have been plural regardless of the trauma they experienced. Whether you personally believe that to be true is your business, but I fail to understand how people think that idea is harmful, ableist or anything else. Not everybody wants to conceive of the origin of their existence in the same way. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Trying to force people to adopt a certain narrative about their own life doesn’t help anyone or prevent any sort of harm.

As far as willogenic systems go (because they’re under the endo umbrella, I’m pretty sure), I really don’t know enough about them to have a super definitive opinion. People seem to have mostly positive experiences with it, and it sure doesn’t affect me whether somebody I don’t know tries to make headmates through things like meditation. It’s obviously something quite different than DID, but I imagine it could work similarly in some ways, so I don’t really mind them using terms like ‘system’. I do understand the aversion to willogenics to some extent, though. I feel that sometimes too. And ultimately I think that’s because they get to make a choice that I wasn’t given. And they get to skip syscovery, and probably a lot of dissociation on top of that. It’s tempting to resent them, to assume they see it as a fun or frivolous thing, and are totally ignorant of our problems and suffering. But I don’t think that’s true.

They know what DID is. They know it’s usually caused by trauma, and often serious abuse. They know it is a serious disorder that can make life very difficult. They also know that they created headmates through meditation or something, and now they’re a system. Why should that upset us? Why do we think we own plurality just because we suffered more on the road here? Maybe you think they’re wrong about having headmates, but…. how would we know? Just because an experience isn’t accepted or understood by the field of psychology doesn’t mean it’s not happening. And I make a point to believe people about their own minds.

Just because they don’t have DID and have very different experiences to people with DID doesn’t mean they can’t acknowledge that those experiences do have some similarities. And it certainly doesn’t mean they can’t find community with OSDDID systems who want to normalize plurality itself in order to make life easier for all systems. It may seem “weird” to us, we might not understand it, but that doesn’t mean we should deny just because we originally learned that DID (and therefore plurality) can only form through extreme trauma. Aren’t a lot of the things we originally learned about DID wrong? Aren’t a lot of the things we assumed about it wrong? We, as a species, have never understood the human brain. Even doctors and educators make assumptions about what’s impossible without looking into it enough to prove that.

But when tons of people tell you they created headmates on purpose, and you don’t really have a reason to think they’re wrong other than “I don’t think that’s possible”, maybe it’s time to switch to, “idk how that works, but you do you”. It’s time to acknowledge that someone living their life in a way that you wouldn’t choose for yourself is actually completely fine. I mean, as long as they’re not hurting anybody obviously, but willogenics are not hurting anybody by being openly willogenic.

So yeah, endogenic systems are not inherently a threat to you or anyone else.

This post sums up my thoughts pretty well, so I might just refer people to it in the future. If you’re here from that, thanks for hearing what I have to say. I hope it helps you refine your worldview in some way. You don’t have to agree with everything I said here. I just hope you at least interact with people with more good faith (believing what they say until they give you a reason not to).

[cosmerelists]

Favorite Boardgames of Each Order of the Knights Radiant

It’s Radiant Boardgame Night on Roshar! What would be the favorite boardgame of each Order of the Knights Radiant?

1. Bondsmiths: Connect Four

It’s a game about forging connections! 

Stormfather: Yes, Dalinar, allow the red pieces to fall into place! Complete the line! Forge the bond!

Sibling: Use your wily human ways to be victorious, Navani!! Go diagonal or something!

Dalinar: They certainly are...invested in this game.

Navani: Just so long as the Stormfather doesn’t blow over the board when I win.

Navani: ...Again.

Stormfather: I’m very invested in connecting!!

2. Dustbringers: Jenga

With their surges of Division and Abrasian, the Dustbringers have powers that could be called...destructive. I think they’d enjoy Jenga. 

Malata: Ha, ha! I have made the tower CRUMBLE

Ral-na: You are aware, of course, that per the rules, this means you have lost the game.

Malata: Wait, we’re playing by the rules? 

3. Truthwatchers: Clue

The Truthwatchers believe in finding and sharing the truth. Like...the truth of who murdered Mr. Body this time!

Renarin: It was Mr. Green in the Library with the Wrench!

Rlain: You won AGAIN?!

Stump: You’re not using your future sight or something, are you kid?

Rlain: You know Renarin wouldn’t do that.

Stump (muttering): Just think it’s weird that I never win.

Renarin: That might be because you always accuse Colonel Mustard.

Stump: That mustache is DEFINITELY hiding something!

4. Skybreakers: Monopoly

The Skybreakers believe in obeying the law, no matter what. And if there’s a game that people don’t normally follow the actual rules for, it’s this one. The Skybreakers? They’d play it “right.”

Szeth: The other knights speak of something called “House Rules” for this game.

Nale: “House rules” are not rules at all, but merely inventions of unreliable human actors who wish the game to be “shorter” or “more fun.”

Nale: We will NOT continue the game until SOMEBODY buys this property at auction.

Joret: Personally, I LOVE not having fun!

Cali (muttering): Kiss-ass. 

5. Lightweavers: Pictionary 

With their artistic skills, Pictionary would surely be a delight for the Lightweavers.

Beryl: It’s an apple!

Shallan: Shhh...hang on...I’m not done...

Vathah: Come on, come on, that’s already the best drawn apple we’ve ever seen, etc.

Shallan: Aaand done!

Gaz: Time’s up.

Ishnah: It’s still tied.

Ishnah: Mostly because we’re all drawing only one picture per round.

Shallan: Maybe timed games aren’t really for us...

6. Willshapers: Mousetrap

The Willshapers love two things: building and freeing those who have been unjustly imprisoned.

Eshonai: Wait, you said this game was about freedom, but it seems that I will be trying to trap you in a mouse jail?

Venli: Shhh...I’m putting the final touches on my mousetrap! Ha! It looks AMAZING

Eshonai: Are we trying to keep ourselves free by imprisoning others? Is that..okay?

Venli: Don’t think too hard about it.

7. Elsecallers: Scrabble 

The Elsecallers are thoughtful, scholarly, and logical. I think they’d enjoy transforming a bunch of disparate letters into words!

Jasnah: Ah, I seem to have another 7-letter word. Amusingly, it is “radiant.”

Jasnah: And over here I can make “crab,” which is not bad with the “b” counting twice on the triple letter score.

Jasnah: Looks like Side A is currently winning.

Jasnah: ...

Jasnah: Sometimes I wish there were other Elsecallers. 

8. Stonewards: Risk

The Stonewards tend to be soldiers and to enjoy warfare, weaponry, and challenges. They can make do in difficult circumstances. It seems like they’d enjoy a good game of Risk!

 Zu: I shall reinforce Greenland! That is where my troops are most needed!

Badali: Wow, another game heading into its third hour!

Badali: Take two people who are both stubborn and good at strategy...

Zu: And you have great fun all afternoon?

Badali: That’s what I was going to say!

9. Edgedancers: Pandemic

The Edgedancers are healers and helpers, those who listen to people who may otherwise be ignored and remember those who may be forgotten. I think a lovely cooperative game, and one in which you work together to heal the world, would be great for them.

Lift: I did it! I discovered one of the cures!

Godeke: Great job, kid!

Lorain: It’s no nice to play this game without a worldwide pandemic actually going on, huh?

Godeke: What, uh, made you say that?

Lorain: You know,  I have no idea!

10. Windrunners: Chess

I know chess may sound like an Elsecaller game, but hear me out. The Windrunners are all about military ranks, and in chess all the pieces represent a rank. The Windrunners believe in protecting the weak--like the king piece. Sometimes they have to accept that they can’t protect everyone, like when they must sacrifice pawns. They’re good at working in tandem, and chess is about getting disparate pieces to work together. So Chess seems like something they’d enjoy...with maybe a few exceptions.

Kaladin: Well, this game gets one thing right.

Teft: That it takes a squad to protect a man?

Skar: That the ardents go their own way?

Sigzil: Bishops.

Skar: Whatever.

Moash: That everyone is forced to protect the king, even though he is demonstrably the weakest and most useless piece?

Lyn: That any pawn can attain ultimate power?

Kaladin: No. 

Kaladin: It gets horses right.

Kaladin: Why are they the only piece that consists of a giant, creepy head?

Kaladin: Why are they big as the castle?

Kaladin: Why the hell do they move like that?!

Kaladin: This is a game about how terrifying and creepy horses are.

Teft: Maaaaybe that’s enough chess for today.

Kaladin (whispering): No one gets me like chess does. 

[save-the-villainous-cat]

How about some hurt/comfort about a sleep-deprived villain?

Convincing themselves that they were fine was easier than accepting that there was something unhealthily, severely and unmistakably wrong with them. In the back of their mind, it was normal to stay up for 22 hours a day. Not to mention that this had been going on for months.

What should’ve been a wake-up call left them yearning and moody. One time they’d seen the hero break into their apartment, their fingers sprinkled with blood, their suit glued to their muscles. The villain had wanted to jump up and confront them but they’d been much too flustered to do anything.

As if they were living together, the hero had taken their clothes off. They’d kissed the villain. Pushed them into the pillows. Gotten on top.

Two days later, the villain had mentioned it. And as the hero stared at them, blushing from head to toe, muttering that they were out with friends at that time, the villain noticed that there was something terribly weird going on. It had been a hallucination. A good one. So good that they wished it was real.

Some sick part of their brain thought that if they slept less, they’d get more of these. But they didn’t. Slowly, they found themselves hallucinating more. Creatures in the dark corners of their rooms, their food rotting in their fridge after a day, dead animals on their balcony. The villain considered doing some extreme things, going as far as using alcohol to end their suffering.

Eventually they didn’t. They deserved this.

One restless night, the hero showed up on their porch and in all their delusion, the villain was sure they were a hallucination, too.

“Hey.”

The villain didn’t answer.

“You lost your weapon today.”

What?

“When we were fighting in the parking lot. You lost it.”

“That’s why you’re here?” the villain asked, still not entirely convinced that this wasn’t only happening in their mind. They imagined what it would feel like if the hero pushed them against the door in this very moment.

The last months had been ridiculously lonely. A single one-night stand was all the physical touch they’d gotten over this time. After that they’d felt horrible. Sleeping with a stranger didn’t feel at all like they’d expected.

“No, actually…what you said about me coming over to yours brought me here.” The villain looked up from the spot they’d glared at.

“Forget about that. It was just a silly dream.” They were about to throw the door into the hero’s face but their enemy stepped into their house, foot holding the door open.

“I know you’ve lost your sidekick,” the hero said.

A punch to the throat would’ve been less painful. The villain’s grip on the door handle tightened until their knuckles turned as white as chalk.

Pushing it away was hurtful but not as hurtful as this. Confronting it. Thinking about it. It was so real yet so difficult to grasp. Understanding that someone is gone needs time and the villain simply hadn’t allowed themselves to take it.

They’d been so young.

“I…” A headache formed behind their forehead. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I lost my first sidekick, too. It broke me,” the hero said. “I did some…questionable things while I was grieving. I’m not proud of it and they certainly didn’t help.”

“I’m okay,” the villain lied. “Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”

“Why not? Goal achieved.” The hero took another step and walked into the villain’s house faster than the villain thought to be possible.

“Because I save people. I don’t want to destroy them.”

Then where were you when they died? The villain didn’t say it out loud. Accusations wouldn’t bring them back.

“Please let me help you,” the hero whispered.

“Is this to clean your own conscience?” the villain asked.

“Actually, it’s because I like you.”

The villain froze.

“I can’t sleep,” they confessed. “I get two hours per night if I’m good.”

“Alright, I’m gonna run a bath for us. You need to relax,” the hero said, inviting themselves in. The villain could only stare as they walked past them.

I’m gonna run a bath for us.

For us.