#the unfamiliarity and such but there’s something going on something will happen

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x fem!reader

contents: fluff and sweetness. pre-relationship. more than friends but less than lovers trope. many shared little moments with sylus that make it special 🤍

⭒ It becomes second nature for Sylus to carry your purse on his shoulder when you both have an outing and he follows you around like an obedient puppy as you shop from one clothing rack to another. Sometimes he gets distracted on his phone whilst glancing up at you every now and then that he doesn’t realize you both are in the men’s section. A rather adorable pondering expression on your face as you hold a shirt up to his chest. “I think this would suit you nicely.” No second opinion is needed and he collects the item from you for purchasing because if you say so then he believes it.

⭒ When Sylus somehow finds himself a passenger because maybe you wanted to test drive his car that easily has 1600hp—he’s thoroughly amused as you feel out the dynamics of the vehicle. More so when you accidentally step on the brakes a little too hard, as you are unfamiliar with the sensitivity of the pedals. In a show of panic, you throw your arm across his chest to brace for the sudden jolt which earns you a teasing remark followed by a playful quip back at him. However, there’s a subtle smile on his lips as you continue down the road because your first instinct is to save him.

⭒ You and Sylus have a casual routine with Friday nights being reserved for the both of you. When you’d normally grab takeout during the busy working week, you opt for a simple home-cooked meal to unwind and enjoy a leisurely evening. Before you can even register the force of habit, you’re pulling out two plates to set the table and like clockwork Sylus appears at your apartment door. A little bag of your favorite pastries to finish off the meal with something sweet because he learned you couldn’t go without it. Funny how he knows these things about you, and how you knew to grab his favorite cheese pancakes on the way home for appetizers.

⭒ The crow twins deliver you something on behalf of Sylus and he receives a little treat from you every other time this happens. You’d pack a small box of savory/sweet baked goods that you made earlier in the day to return his thoughtful gesture. However, at your words Luke and Kieran assumed a surprise wouldn’t be missed if their boss doesn’t know about it. Fast forward to those two apologetic boys surrounded by a swirling red and kneeling before their boss under his menacing stare because those cream puffs should've been handed to him directly. After hearing about this, you made certain to pack enough for the three of them next time.

⭒ Napping at someone else’s home other than your own feels like uncharted territory because sleeping anywhere but your warm and familiar bed places you in a vulnerable position. Even though Sylus has given you permission to make yourself comfortable at his estate several times, the safest place you feel is beside him with your head lulling against his shoulder when you’re running on a few hours of sleep. He’s the picture of comfort with a fleeting kiss to your head and draping his coat over you, and he may even find his cheek pressed against you to catch some shut-eye himself.

⭒ There’s something to be said about Sylus being led by you—he secretly loves surrendering himself to your every whim and that includes you tugging him by the hand and steering him toward the direction of cute ducklings paddle their way into the waters with a splash. Your elated reaction and innocent sparkle is all very endearing to him and he takes a moment to savor it before shifting his gaze to the small animals. “Now, aren’t you glad we decided to have this stroll after all?” You offer him your response and his heart warms when he realizes that you still haven’t let go of his hand.

[lycanloc]

You guys actually make me kind of fucking sick.

Obviously not directed at OP but at the voters. This is the first post I've seen from them.

TL;DR it's fucking disgusting how some of y'all will forgive a neo-nazi that has actively spread hate in-person but not someone who limits it to only words. I will block you if you say something stupid in regards to this.

Let me start out by saying this; I am heavily against JK Rowling's stance on Jewish people, people of color, and trans people. The Holocaust did indeed happen, do proper research on cultures you're unfamiliar with (especially if you putting them into a story), trans men are men, trans women are women, sex and gender are different.

With that out of the way... what the fuck is this?

Taking from one of the comment reblogs, but going off of percentages... more of you would forgive a Neo-Nazi, someone who actively believed Hitler, the man who actively tried killing all Jews, gays, and trans people, and also believed in "the master race" was right?

This might be controversial, so I understand if you disagree with it, but I genuinely believe Neo-Nazis are WORSE than JK Rowling. JK Rowling has, in all honesty, only talked about her views on Twitter, the worse being the Imane Khelief situation, which... only caused cyberbulling. Still really fucking bad, don't get me wrong, especially since she refuses to listen to what anyone says.

But Neo-Nazis literally try to enact what Hitler wanted. They actively go out and protest, trying to preach Nazism. Just looking up images, one result talks about them preaching anti-semitism, homophobia, and white supremacy in front of DISNEY WORLD in Orlando. In front of LITERAL CHILDREN.

I can not FATHOM how you could forgive someone willing to expose children and even literally babies to sheer hatred but not someone who limits their hatred to tweets. This is absolutely fucking revolting.

And reread the second poll. This isn't some "edgy phase" from middle school, where people like to make the "funny communism haha" type of jokes. No, it explicitly says "a nazi phase in their adult life." Someone who is grown and mature enough to know EXACTLY what they're doing and preaching.

Either some of you are lying straight out of your fucking ass, or some of you are just plain fucking stupid. If you either believe JK did nothing wrong, think JK denying the Holocaust, using racist stereotypes, or outright calling trans people a danger is good, or you would just... straight up forgive a neo-nazi no questions asked, then fuck you. I hope you get what you deserve.

And note; I block quite freely. So if you say something just outright fucking stupid, like "JK is actually based for that" or something, I am not giving you the time of day. Go fuck yourself.

IF and ONLY IF she apologized genuinely, donated a large sum of money to appropriate charities, and showed genuine and sincere efforts to remedy and repair her behavior: would you forgive JK Rowling?

[lexirosewrites]

19 year old omega Steve recently has come into his scent, essentially making it open season and he's able to be courted now

He is being pursued(hunted) by a former classmate, Tommy Hagan

Tommy is an alpha and had been waiting for Steve to come into his scent after he and Carol (Beta) broke up because she finally noticed his obsession with Steve

Tommy became a police officer and unfortunately abuses his position and uses his resources to keep an eye on Steve

It all comes to a head when Steve comes back home from work to find an unfamiliar scent in his nest and things moved around in his room, he also notices some underwear missing

He packs up his nest and some of his clothes and runs, runs to the only person he thinks can help him... Feral 26 year old alpha drug dealer Eddie Munson

Eddie lives with his beta uncle and has been since he was about 13 or so, he isn't ever bothered by the cops except for the Chief who always brought him back to his uncle with a warning but never ever charged him with possession, the old alpha seems to see something in the younger alpha that he doesn't see in himself

To say Eddie is surprised to see Hawkins most desired omega on his doorstep looking a mess is an understatement. The omega looks like he ran across town and through the woods, he was checking over his shoulder so he jumped when the door swung open

"I need help, a cop is after me"

"not my problem little one"

"please! It's Tommy Hagan, he's been after my neck and I can't go to the other officers because they might side with him!"

"surely you have a friend that can house you, I don't need the cops breathing down my neck anymore then they already are"

"they're just pups, and Robin is at college. You're my only hope, please Eddie help me. I'll clean and sleep on the couch, no! The floor... In the kitchen! I'll be out of the way and make meals and anything else. The chief is away for his wedding anniversary and I just need to impose myself until he's back"

Eddie growls low and steps aside letting the younger into his home

"and what if the town thinks I've taken advantage of you? Makes you out to be damaged goods? What if it actually happens and it's not just rumors"

"you're not as big and scary as you like to think you are" Steve says defiantly as he trembles

Eddie was surprised that Steve knew his name and called his bluff, Wayne was okay with Steve hiding out at theirs but told him there is no need for him to sleep on the floor or the couch. Steve would take Wayne's room and Wayne would take the couch

Slowly Eddie learns that Steve knew of Eddie from the pups he looks after that Eddie runs campaigns for, the two also grow closer and closer until they finally start courting for real

The pups and Wayne gave their blessings right away but Eddie took longer winning Robin over, Eddie's friends are nervous about the potential draw back of Eddie courting Steve Harrington but are supportive in the end

Tommy does eventually catch wind of where Steve has been staying and comes to take what he feels is his

However he wasn't expecting the whole trailer park and neighborhood to come in defense of Steve and Eddie and he certainly wasn't expecting to be publicly rejected by Steve and he definitely wasn't expecting to lose his job and be arrested by the chief of police old man Hopper once he learns about all the things Tommy has done

Steve and Eddie eventually mate and have pups the first of which are twins that bring the parents much joy

poor Steve!!!🥺

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Where You Belong

Fem!Reader When you move into a house with 8 men for six months, one seems to be do everything he can to make you stay.

<pt2 pt3 pt4>

♡🏠︎♂♂♂♂♀♂♂♂♂🏠︎♡🏠︎♂♂♂♂♀♂♂♂♂🏠︎♡

You sat at the dining room table, feeling as if you were under some sort of interrogation. The one you had met first- Minho, if you remembered correctly- was nowhere to be found as you sat across from the seven other men.

So much for heading to bed, you thought to yourself.

Now, instead, you were riddled with a crippling kind of anxiety. With the chaos of earlier gone, the reality of your new arrangement set in.

Concerns, both imagined and realistic, swirled in your mind.

Were they regretting accepting you? Would they kick you out? This was never the intended arrangement, but would they blame you for the miscommunication?

"So... Y/N?" A man with a prominent nose and a thick accent broke the silence.

"Yes?" you responded a bit too quickly, mentally kicking yourself for sounding nervous. Your leg jittered under the table, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by the undeniably adorable, chubby-cheeked guy sitting to your left.

"Are you anxious?" he asked softly, his warm gaze meeting yours. "We’re not going to do anything. We’re not perverts! Well, I’m not a pervert-"

A reserved-looking guy with tired puppy eyes clamped his hand over the other’s mouth, muttering something in Korean that you couldn’t entirely understand but recognized as scolding.

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Not exactly," you mumbled, unsure how much to reveal. Across the table, the soft-looking boy with freckles cocked his head at you, his curiosity evident.

"You don’t have to worry," the man with the thick Australian accent finally spoke, his expression kind but slightly strained. "If you’re uncomfortable with anything, you can tell us."

"I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t okay with it," you reassured him, though your voice wavered slightly. "It’s just...a big change for you guys and I feel bad for the miscommunication."

"That's understandable, but its no one's fault. Slip ups happen," the freckled boy chimed in, his tone soothing, and his accent mimicking the other guy's. "We’ll do our best to make this easy for you."

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and you slowly began to relax. They introduced themselves one by one, though the names blurred together in your mind. The freckled boy was Felix and the other Australian was Chris, you remembered that much. The others’ names- Hyunjin, Changbin, Seungmin, Han, Jeongin - felt like puzzle pieces you’d need time to fit together.

"Wait," Jeongin piped up suddenly, his voice playful. "Do I call you noona?"

The table burst into laughter as you blinked, caught off guard. You waved your hands quickly. "I don't know much about honorifics." you clarified, your cheeks warming.

When you pieced together your birthdays Jeongin cackled maniacally.

"I can make her call me Oppa-"

"Thats perverted!"

"What did I say about the misuse of that word-"

Chaos ensued and you could see the brotherly affection between all the guys, making you curious about their stories. Your mind trailed to Minho, and you wondered where exactly he fit in the puzzle.

I hope I didn't upset him...I haven't seen him since the boys came back...

The teasing eventually died down, and the conversation flowed naturally. You couldn’t help but notice how each of them made an effort to include you, easing your initial fears. But as the night wore on, one absence grew more noticeable- Minho still hadn’t returned.

You stirred awake in the middle of the night, the unfamiliar setting still making it difficult to stay asleep.

A faint pink glow spilled into the hallway from the bathroom, catching your attention. Rubbing your eyes, you wandered toward it, your curiosity piqued.

As you reached the door, you noticed it was slightly ajar. The glow wasn’t from the usual light bulb but a neon sign that read, "Slay! Go Piss Girl!" bolted above the toilet.

Inside, Minho stood near the switch, his hand hovering over it as he squinted at the sign in a cringeworthy pain, like he couldn’t decide if it was brilliant or a mistake.

You hesitated in the doorway, unsure if you should interrupt, but the soft creak of the floor gave you away.

Minho turned his head sharply, his eyes narrowing slightly before his expression settled into something unreadable. His lips pressed into a thin line as he stood awkwardly in the pink glow.

"Uh...sorry," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as Minho stepped back slightly, giving you space to pass.

"It’s fine," he muttered, his tone clipped but not unkind. He smelled clean, as if he had just showered, though his hair was dry, and he was in the clothes he had been in earlier when you had your first unexpected meeting. He glanced back at the sign, then at you, his mouth twitching like he was debating whether to say something else. Finally, he did.

"Jisung said on FaceTime that you’d like it. He thought it’d be funny."

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected explanation. "Oh...well, it is funny," you said, trying to ease the tension. "It’s definitely unique."

Minho’s brows furrowed slightly, and he crossed his arms self-consciously. "I wasn’t sure it was appropriate...for, you know...a lady," he added stiffly, his gaze flicking to the sign and then back to you. "But Jisung insisted. He said it was the way people joked abroad, but I think he was just being ignorant..."

The way he said "a lady" made your lips twitch, though you bit back a smile. "People back home joke like this," you assured him, your tone light. "I think it’s...charming in its own way. My boyfriend never even decorated so even if it was the worst sign ever- the fact that you guys cared enough to decorate for a stranger means a lot."

Minho froze and then nodded curtly, but the stiffness in his posture didn’t ease. The silence stretched uncomfortably between you as the pink light bathed the small space. He shifted his weight and itched his neck, and you got the sense that he was struggling to find the right words, though it seemed like a losing battle.

"I didn't mean to make it awkward bringing up my ex-"

"About earlier," he said suddenly, his voice low but deliberate. His eyes didn’t meet yours, instead focused somewhere past your shoulder. "That...thing. With the, uh...in the kitchen. I didn’t mean...yeah."

You blinked, unsure where this was going. Then it clocked.

"Oh. It’s okay," you said quickly, trying to save him from the awkwardness. "It wasn’t a big deal."

"It looked bad," he continued, ignoring your attempt to let it go. "I didn’t mean for it to- well, you probably thought it was...an odd situation."

The corners of your lips twitched, and you had to fight the urge to laugh at how stiff he sounded. "I didn’t think anything," you said, trying to sound earnest. "Really. Other than I might have made you upset but it doesn't seem like it so everything is fine. Gwenchana 's the word right?" You said in a teaaing manner.

You managed to crack a smile from him, the pink accenting the curve of his lips.

"Yes, gwenchana."

Minho finally glanced fully at you, his expression unreadable but his ears noticeably red in the neon light. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, exhaling sharply through his nose like he was frustrated with himself.

"Good then," he muttered. "We sorted things out. Because it wasn’t intentional. I want you to feel comfortable in this house. So...there's other stuff for you too." He said motioning to the living room. "We...you can sort through it tomorrow..."

You nodded, though the tension still hung in the air. "Thanks for saying that," you said softly, trying to sound genuine. "And thanks for the gifts.

You stood in another awkward silence.

"Anyway, I was just checking the sign," he said, his tone abruptly neutral again. "It works." He nodded again, the movement jerky, before stepping back toward the door.

You couldn’t help but smile faintly at his obvious retreat. "It does," you agreed. "I'll make sure to tell Jisung it’s a hit."

Minho made a noise that might have been agreement before he slipped out of the bathroom, his figure disappearing down the hall.

You stood there a moment longer, shaking your head as you wondered if all your conversations with him would be like- if he'd always seem this uncomfortable; or if it was just the pink neon light playing tricks on both of you.

♡🏠︎♂♂♂♂♀♂♂♂♂🏠︎♡🏠︎♂♂♂♂♀♂♂♂♂🏠︎♡

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[letteredlettered]

I'm disturbed by the number of de-aging fics I've read where the adult caretaker of the one who is de-aged feels the need to discipline the de-aged one, or "teach them manners," or "make them" do things like clean up their toys or eat their vegetables or go to bed on time, or help them understand that they should apologize if they are "naughty."

This never seems to be a commentary on the fact that the adult caretaker is in fact a bad caretaker who is unable to assess what a child needs in a given situation. The texts always seems to imply, heavily, that this is in fact a good caretaker because they are setting boundaries and providing the child with necessary lessons. It always comes across as though we the readers are meant to feel "look at this responsible adult!"

Instead it reads like the adult doesn't understand children and doesn't know what to do with them. It reads as though the writer thinks disciplining children and making them clean up and making them apologize is just something you do with children; it's just what children need; it's just what children are for.

No.

We do those things with children because it can help them be healthy, develop good habits, and get along with others in life. In a de-aging fic, the de-aged person is already an adult. They've either learned these lessons or they haven't, so there is no reason to teach them now. If the adult caretaker has a problem with the adult version of the de-aged character, they should be taking that up with the adult version and not the child. Taking it up with the child is pointless, since it's the adult version that's the problem; it also feels manipulative, since people consider children malleable while they think adults aren't. It sounds like you're trying to change the child because you couldn't change the adult, which I find kind of disgusting.

An adult de-aged to a child is a fantasy/sci fi concept that cannot happen in real life as far as we know it. They don't have the same needs as children. They wouldn't need life lessons or to learn how to function in an adult world.

When you think about what he only thing a de-aged child would need is the same comfort and safety anyone would need in an unfamiliar situation in which they might not be able to care for themselves. So in those situation there are physical needs--safety, food, shelter, etc--and emotional needs. As far as emotional needs, most kids would be feeling alone and scared at suddenly being thrust into a world with which their not familiar; they need someone who makes them feel safe, whom they feel they can trust. Building trust with a kid is hard, but you don't do it by making them go to bed on time; you do it by listening to what they say and taking them seriously; you do it by not acting like you know best because you actually don't, unless a kid wants to do something that will literally risk their physical safety.

So no. The adult caretaker in such a fic does not need to make a kid take a bath, even if they are filthy. If the kid wants to go to bed filthy they can, and the adult caretaker can wash the sheets. If the kid doesn't sleep well because the dirt irritates them, they'll get up and want to wash or they will be grumpy the next day. If they are grumpy ask them what would make them feel better and try to give it to them. If that doesn't make them less grumpy that is also fine; at least they don't have some random adult trying to put them in their place because that's where children belong.

tl;dr children do not exist to be controlled they should be loved. put it in your de-aging fics pass it on

[cherrysolo]

loooove the way you wrote pissed lu, i remember reading something from his old roommate (?) where he said he never saw him anything but calm so i couldn’t picture it until i saw your reply to the request!! would love to see more of him trying to keep himself calm or how he would react to pissed reader <3

thank you sm!! I remember seeing his old roommate say that! it was very difficult for me to write because I don’t picture him as an angry person, so it was a good challenge! I’m so glad you loved it <3

this little piece is inspired by your request to see how the reader acts when she’s pissed and how lu deals with it. it’s also inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “all too well”. (if u guys get the references hehe). plus I deal with anxiety so this is soooo me lmao.

you and Luigi had flown from Hawaii to Pennsylvania to have a reunion dinner with his fraternity brothers. all of his closest college friends would be there with their significant others. you were so excited to finally meet some of his best college friends, you knew how much they meant to him.

as excited as you were, you were just as nervous. you struggled with social anxiety and meeting new people in large groups, something that luigi didn’t have trouble with at all. sometimes it felt isolating to have a partner who was very social and flourished in large groups. but anyway you did it for him, you just needed to relax and put on a happy face for him.

the dinner was going well as the boys reminisced, and the girlfriends made small talk. explaining their new job titles, talking about post-collegiate bliss, and looking back on their lives at penn.

quickly coming to the realization that you were the only one who didn’t go to an Ivy League school. you just studied English literature in Montreal, nothing special. all of these successful twenty somethings, long history of accomplishments, and you’re just… you. your eyes dotting back and forth at everyone at the table, just realizing how beautiful and blonde all these women are. did lu go to school with them too? my god, you felt so small and insecure with these anxiety-ridden thoughts flying through your mind. the smell of food began to be too much, your hair was sticking sweaty to your neckline, and your leg started bouncing to help calm yourself. you knew that these thoughts were untrue and were created in your mind, but your heart couldn’t stop racing. you didn’t feel good enough, to be by his side.

Luigi has always been a practical person, but he understood you struggled with anxiety and being in unfamiliar situations. He has never truly been in your shoes, but he tries his best to help out in anxiety-ridden situations, by grounding you or repeating your mantras.

Since he was used to comforting you in these situations, you quietly tried to grab his hand while he was talking to his ex-roommate to his left. you grab his hand, placing it on the table and intertwining your fingers. this is typically what you guys do to ground yourself in public, it’s a simple and sweet gesture.

as quickly as you grab his hand, it’s gone. he gives you a side eye, drops your hand, and continues his conversation like nothing happened. he dismisses you, in a way he hasn’t before. the act is cold and shocks you to no end. you then excuse yourself to the bathroom to calm down. while pacing back and forth in the ladies' room, you begin to have even more thoughts about what just occurred. why can’t he be affectionate in front of his friends? do I embarrass him? do you think they’re noticing how long I’ve been gone? taking some deep breaths, you walk back to the table.

…

“why have you been ignoring me the whole way back to the hotel?” luigi confronted you as soon as the door unlocked.

you scoffed, your anxiety and upset eyes had turned into anger. you felt embarrassed and angry that you even felt anxious and that you couldn’t be as socially acceptable as your partner.

“it’s nothing, I just want to go to bed, I’m tired,” you whispered. but luigi was having none of that,

“baby, you’re the one who said we should communicate better. what’s wrong? everyone was so happy to meet you tonight.” he pleaded with you.

“you dropped my hand.” you plainly stated, as luigi looked at you dumbfounded and confused.

his mouth agape, truly questioning what you meant by that.

“you dropped my fucking hand, what am I supposed to do with that?” you raised your voice, noticing the anger take over.

“I didn’t even fucking notice, what are you even talking about?” luigi matched your tone.

“I don’t even know any of these people. They’re all strangers, they’re all older than me, I feel so out of place! you know how bad my anxiety gets!” rushing to explain your anger but it just makes you feel worse.

luigi rolls his eyes, “I was catching up with my friends! you’re literally saying I dropped your hand. like what does that even mean? I don’t even remember the moment. god forbid I don’t pay attention to you for two seconds!” his tone and aggression shocked you. the last sentence is what made you go quiet. your face dropped, and you silently walk into the bathroom to take your makeup off.

lu regrets what it said as soon as it left his mouth. this is why he doesn’t like to be angry in front of you, regrettable things are said. he genuinely wants to help you during times of stress, but he doesn’t fully understand what goes on in your brain. he couldn’t tell that you were so upset over a small gesture.

as you leave the bathroom, getting ready for bed, you sigh, feeling a bit silly about overreacting. your feelings were valid, but the aftermath of a sudden argument makes you feel dizzy. you know that deep down he cares for you, but occasionally he doesn’t fully understand the extent of your anxieties. luigi was already falling asleep, so you lightly got into bed, not wanting to wake him.

the bed shifts as luigi turns over to face you, putting his hand on your waist. “this okay baby?”. you sighed and nodded yes.

rubbing his hands across your waist and your stomach, he begins to apologize, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or scared. I try to pick up on signals, but I can’t always read you that well. I’ll always be there to hold your hand,”

you hummed and placed your arm on his bicep, moments like these remind you why you love him so much. even during overwhelming situations, or not entirely understanding your reasoning, he still comes around, eventually.

“I love you, lu. I just get so overwhelmed and sometimes frazzled, sometimes my mind is like a car alarm that goes off for no reason, if that makes sense,” you explain, giggling. your laughs due to how silly it sounds out loud, but it’s true.

he smiles softly, trying to make sense of your analogy. “I see what you’re saying. sometimes I feel like a car that has no engine, I just shut off completely.” says jokingly, trying to make you smile.

you giggle, nudging your head into his chest, with his warmth enveloping you. “I think we both need to communicate more, amore,” he says softly, you know he’s joking, but there’s the truth behind it.

you felt him pull you closer, “I love you forever, my love. now get some rest” he softly says and presses a kiss on your forehead.

as you fall into a deep slumber, you feel so loved and appreciated by lu.

[moonmaiden1996]

Zoro as a romantic partner- My thoughts

Alright, hear me out.

Zoro, the stoic, sword-wielding badass of One Piece, doesn’t show the slightest interest in romance—at least not in any of the arcs I’ve read or watched. He’s far too focused on his goals, his loyalty to Luffy, and his never-ending quest to become the greatest swordsman in the world. But... what if?

I’ve been thinking about what kind of partner Zoro might have, and honestly, the idea that keeps popping into my head is less “typical romance” and more... Tatsu from The Way of the Househusband. If you’re unfamiliar, Tatsu is an infamous and feared yakuza boss, nicknamed "The Immortal Dragon," who (after literally defeating all his enemies) leaves the crime world to become a devoted househusband to the woman who once cared for his wounds.

Now, while Zoro definitely wouldn’t go full Sanji mode (because, let’s be real, Zoro cooking is a kitchen fire waiting to happen), there’s something about that protector-turned-househusband energy that feels surprisingly fitting.

Let’s pause for a second on the Sanji comparison. Sanji is all about charm, flirtation, and over-the-top devotion to every woman he meets. He’s a master chef who pours his heart into crafting meals and showering people with compliments. Zoro, on the other hand, would never lower himself to something he might see as “cooking duty.” It’s just not his style.

But here’s the twist: if someone did something genuinely kind for Zoro—like how Miku cared for Tatsu in The Way of the Househusband when he gets injured—I feel like Zoro would be smitten (or at least, as smitten as Zoro can get). He’d show his appreciation in his own gruff way, and his feelings would manifest through actions rather than words.

Zoro’s approach would be much more subtle, quiet, and honestly, a little rough around the edges—more of a “guard dog” than a “gentleman chef.” He’s the type of guy who lets you sleep on him, beats up Sanji to make sure your favorite meal gets cooked, and stares down anyone foolish enough to think they have a shot at you. It’s that unspoken but undeniable protection that makes the idea of Zoro as a partner so intriguing.

Zoro strikes me as the kind of person who wouldn’t even notice someone as a potential romantic partner unless they demonstrated qualities he deeply values—like loyalty, strength, or determination. He’s stubborn as hell, and most attempts at flirtation would probably fly right over his head. But the moment someone proved their worth to him in a way that resonates, those blinders would come off so fast, and suddenly... boom. Enter Zoro, househusband—but with a twist.

I see him as a fiercely protective presence—the ultimate guard dog for his partner. He’d be the type to wordlessly handle problems before they even reached his significant other, standing as an unshakable shield against the world. Whether it’s physical threats or emotional support, Zoro would embody dependability and unwavering commitment. And let’s not forget—if his partner is equally supportive of him, this man would be unstoppable.

In this hypothetical scenario, Zoro doesn’t lose his edge; instead, he channels his loyalty and protective instincts into a new kind of role. And honestly? That blend of strength, dedication, and quiet care makes for a dynamic that’s as compelling as it is unexpected.

What do you think? Could Zoro be the ultimate househusband in his own unique way? Or is he just too much of a lone wolf for any of this to work?

[ranticore]

What are some mythological monsters from Siren? Are any of them actually real? 👀 (some visual references appreciated if you're able...)

i was going to save this to draw something but don't think i'll have the time to work on it

some mythological monsters (really limited list tbh you can imagine that almost every community has their own take)

false phocid/doppelganger/mirror self/etc - this creature can be glimpsed at a distance and appears very similar to you, baby phocid, but you must never swim out to greet them. the mirror self will only swim further and further away, tempting you to follow, until it traps you in unfamiliar territory or even an evil maze, a place that resembles no place you've ever been before. moral of the story: don't trust strangers/teaching basic fear of the unknown

Tel!am - this is more of a godlike being than most mythological monsters, and can be found in the stories of people from the southern hemisphere. Tel!am is the seafloor itself, which is why deadly aerated water, which seeps up from cracks in the seafloor, is known as Tel!am's Blood/Breath/etc. Tel!am is asleep most of the time but wakes during rare high tide events, during which they rage against the moons and smash up any land/infrastructure/people that happen to get in their way. moral of the story: if there's a high tide forecast you need to get the fuck out of there

Odr - kind of an inverse of Tel!am, supposedly Odr was a giant selkie from the northern hemisphere who took on various heroic challenges to prove their might. They shaped much of the ice-caps by fighting monsters and enemies there (every stroke of their fighting spear would carve a new mountain or whatever, that kind of tale) before growing so sleepy that they curled up and fell into a slumber at a point in the icecaps now known as Odr's Sleep, became buried in snow, and is now only exposed during low tide events. the world as we know it will probably end if the tide gets low enough to reveal Odr entirely, causing them to wake. moral of the story: if there's a low tide forecast you need to get the fuck out of there

Kin/Ruler of the High Tide/Ishmael - in the western continent it is believed that there is a common ancestor for all phocids who arose from this region and that's how we got phocids, who were born when this ancestor raised a high tide. which is straightforward enough. but as people spread further and further from the western continent and settled more remote places, the legend grew legs and kind of morphed into 101 different cautionary tales about a morally-neutral trickster character who, again, might end the world if he raises another high tide, or might birth a new generation of sirenians. moral of the story: you guys should be writing your history down better probably

The Endless Kattakati - this one comes from zetas in the eastern continent. In the past it was common for zeta packs of up to twenty individuals to all be in one kattakati (i.e all of them were considered to be One Single Entity, like a culturally eusocial rather than biologically). there are surviving stories of a potential future, like a different fork in the path of history, that resulted in every single zeta being in ONE kattakati. a single person with tens of thousands of bodies. whether or not this idea is a comfort to them varies of course; the more traditionally-minded might think it sounds very peaceful, while those more integrated with outside cultures and people might see it as a frightening tale of assimilation and loss of individuality. some say that it could happen in the future, too, if only they could sum up the will to try. moral of the story: peace and community are within reach if only we set aside our differences more/oh god oh no oh fuck

longwing visors in general - with each one being tied to a specific character, some of them do happen to be monstrous in nature. flying monsters are a common theme - usually based on recreations of the large, winged metal caskets in which many visors were first unearthed. these creatures were said to plague the first generations of longwings, ruling the skies and attacking anything around them, until mysteriously they all died, transferring their powers of long-distance communication and foresight into the visors inside their bodies. moral of the story: sorry you got stuck with a visor with monstrous baggage i guess you're kind of a monster now too

the Night-time Professor - if you join the university at the Spire as a new student you might hear stories of a strange apparition that flies through the hallways and lecture rooms at night. that's actually a ghost of a scholar who got sick and died while working on his thesis, but that's no fucking excuse for not turning your work in on time so he's STILL out there working on it and won't be allowed to pass on until he's finished. moral of the story: we don't accept sick notes and you're not getting that deadline extension

[bunni3bab]

So I really like body horror, and I thought it was a shame that Pressure can't go more in depth about the whole turning an innocent man into a killer fish thing, so i thought this would be funny.

In all seriousness, the first few chapters are light but im going to go into gross detail about how Sebastian's magical girl fish transformation happened and it's not pretty.

This is going to be focused on Sebastian's time in Urbanshade and explore a lot of his character angst 👍

Growing Pains

Chapter One: Entering Jaws

“...I'm here on account of a company called Urbanshade. Ever heard of it?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“Good, you're not supposed to...”

Sebastian was falsely convicted for a crime he didn't commit. Backed into a corner and faced with a pending execution, he's offered a way out.

This first chapter is real light for the most part but just in case, this chapter has mentions of: One singular corpse, prisoner mistreatment, isolation, very light injury mentions towards the end. The next chapters are only going to get worse so proceed with caution.

Nine people were murdered, all in a similar style. Their names were grouped together, unfamiliar faces smiling in photos they had taken before their ultimate demise.

It was a horrible tragedy, really. The news had surprised him, as the neighborhood Sebastian lived in was relatively safe. He had been born and raised in the area. This sort of thing was unheard of.

He sent his regards to the families, he truly did. 

He just didn't understand why he had to be held accountable for it.

Sebastian didn't know them. He had nothing to do with them. When he was sat down in the interrogation room with their faces staring at him from files they had slapped down on the table, he was left speechless and confused. He tried his best to answer their questions. He had never been involved with the police before. He had never been in legal trouble before. Their accusatory questions and dehumanizing stares nearly made him question if he had killed nine people and somehow forgot about it. But he still stayed as strong as he possibly could be. He insisted over and over, “I didn’t do it.” 

But his explanations fell on deaf ears. He was in the area, he didn't have a solid alibi, and his family didn't have enough money for a good lawyer.

Sebastian would admit it, it looked bad— but it wasn't him.

Time stopped when he received the death penalty. Months’ worth of paperwork and planning all meant to try and get him back home to his normal life were thrown away in an instant. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, the decision had been made, and he was powerless against it. His family, his career, his future— it all meant nothing to them, not when they were convinced he was a murderer. The situation was so ridiculous, so unbelievable, he found himself still in denial some days.

He wasn’t due for his execution for at least another fifteen years, he had been told. It took a long while for these things to get finalized. It tormented him. Rather than just putting him out of his misery, they were hanging the reaper over his head. He spent every night going to bed, in his dark cell, thinking about the fact that this is what his future looked like for the rest of his life- the life they let him have. His best moments were managing to stay calm under the harsh treatment he faced from the guards, his worst were in those late nights where he had nothing to distract himself from this harsh reality. His eyes would be crusted with dry tears. The red puff from crying battled the weighted eye bags in which one wanted to be more painfully obvious. He would be dead before he’d ever get the chance to hit 40, a fact that didn’t sit right with him. He used to think of those years as something so far into the future that it was out of his reach, but now it felt so close. Too close. 

He was never one to think too heavily about what his future looked like. He knew what he wanted, but he was open to anything as long as he was happy. Maybe he’d continue pursuing engineering and get a good career out of it, maybe not. Maybe he’d continue playing the guitar and writing songs he’d never have the courage to share, maybe not. He knew that’s what he wanted currently, but how was he to say if that would be the case 10 or 20 years from now. At least he wouldn’t ever have to worry about that, he thought bitterly. Now he knew for a fact that he was going to be a dead man. 

The sins of a crime he didn’t commit weighed heavily on him every day. Despite not being the one to spill it, the blood stained much more than just his reputation. He wore cuffs every second of the day. In the exercise yard, in the shower, it didn’t matter. Not unless he was in his cell, not that he left it often. He wasn’t allowed out of the claustrophobic thing unless he was showering or exercising.

Or if his mother was visiting him. He tried his best to stay positive for her. She always looked one second from breaking. She flashed him that same wavering smile. He had gotten familiar with it over the years, especially after his dad’s death. Despite his protests, she never stopped masking her troubles behind a positive attitude. Before, he took comfort in knowing he could at least help her out financially to take some of the stress off of her shoulders. He felt so helpless now sitting across from her, unable to do anything with glass separating them. 

She’d give him updates on how his siblings were doing. She’d tell him about how Callum was getting interested in computer science, which was ironic considering he claimed he wanted to get into more “exciting jobs” like acting when he was younger.. She’d happily rave about Mira’s promotion at work. She handled the aquatic life at a nearby zoo. He used to tease her for being an animal nerd, but he never stopped her from sharing her knowledge on strange and obscure fish. 

His mother always made sure to let him know that they were waiting for him. She never lost hope that Sebastian would be let go.

“They’ll realize this is all one huge mistake. Everyone knows you’d never commit such crimes.”

She visited him frequently. His sister did sometimes too, though she could never quite look him in the eyes. His mom always insisted that Mira didn’t think he was guilty, but Sebastian never believed it. How could he when she had that disapproving frown on her face the whole time. 

Callum never visited. Too busy focusing on his schoolwork, he was told. He appreciated his mom’s efforts of shielding his feelings, but sometimes he wished she would just be honest with him.

His days cycled the same. Eat, work out, shower, eat, sleep, eat, see his mom, shower, eat. But one day, there was a change that interrupted his daily admiration of the cold stonewall time. He had a visitor, an unexpected one. He was hoping it was his mom visiting at a strange time, or his brother finally choosing to see him. Imagine his disappointment when he found a man in a clad suit sitting at the table instead.

The man's hair was comically slicked back, and there was not a single crease on his suit to be found. He flashed Sebastian a bright smile as he was cuffed to the table, like he was catching up with an old friend rather than talking to a death row inmate.

“Sebastian Solace, I've heard so much about you.” He adjusted his papers. Sebastian caught sight of a printed-out news article about his arrest. The man winked. “All bad things, unfortunately, but don't you worry. I like to keep an open mind. You seem like a good kid, intelligent too,” he chuckled, “I mean…nine people, in such a short amount of time? That must have taken a lot of planning to pull off. I see a lot of sickos here, but this one certainly takes the cake.” When Sebastian only stared at him, the man put up his hands in defense. “But hey, I get it, mistakes happen.”

Sebastian swallowed in an attempt to combat his dry throat, “I didn't do it.”

He laughed, “I've heard that one before, but that's neither here nor there. Whether you're actually the culprit means nothing to me. All I care about is what’s written on paper, and as long as it reads that you’re guilty, you're looking at the electric chair. Not for a long while, of course, but you will eventually. I bet that’s just eating you up inside, isn’t it?”

Sebastian clenched his fists. 

“I'll take that as a yes. That's unfortunate, you know, you're still so young.” The man leaned forward as he carefully studied Sebastian's face. He couldn't bring himself to look at him. He was trapped in a never-ending loop of shame and anger, neither quite winning.

Shame because Sebastian was at his absolute lowest. Shame because of his helplessness. Shame because of how his name has been smeared beyond recognition. It swallowed him whole. Its gentle waves lulled him into a false sense of security, slowly dissolving any argument against his predicament.

Oh, but anger, it stuck around like a pestilence. Its flames reignited every time shame tried to drip too close. It refused to quiet down.

You're innocent, it reminded. This is unfair, it insisted. You need to do something.

Sebastian let his head hang, his cuffs coming into view. The chilled metal caused his arms to shiver slightly, and goosebumps to peppered his arms. Or maybe it was because of the man's scrutinizing gaze, Sebastian wasn't sure.

When the man found whatever he was looking for, he sat back, “Lucky you, you have another chance.”

Sebastian brought his attention back to the man in front of him, wondering what kind of sick joke he was trying to set up.

“…what?”

“You seem skeptical. There's no tricks here, friend. I'm Jackson Barlowe, and I'm here on account of a company called Urbanshade. Ever heard of it?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“Good, you're not supposed to,” he winked, “we handle a lot of boring legal and monetary issues, nothing you’d care for. But they’re interested in you.” Barlowe slid a packet across the table. The cover had some sort of strange eye logo taking up the center space. 

Urbanshade: For the better of the Modern World.

“They’re interested…in me?”

“Well don’t let it get to your head there, pal, they just need more volunteers. That’s all this is, really, volunteer work. But, it does have one key perc I think you’ll enjoy. You’ll get out of death row.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened. Hope glimmered in his heart for a moment, but it was shortly lived as he reminded himself that there had to be a catch. This was too good to be true. There’s no way a company would be able to keep him alive as long as he did simple volunteer work.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, that’s the whole deal.”

“There’s always a catch.”

Barlowe chuckled and turned his head. He looked like he was mentally debating something, “I never said the volunteer work would be fun. You’re going to be expected to do whatever they say at the drop of a hats’ notice. And you’ll still be a prisoner. Cells, cuffs, limited privileges, the whole package. I’m not exactly handing you a paradise here, but it ain’t death, and that’s more than what you got now.”

“What’s the volunteer work?”

“Ah, minor stuff mostly. You’ll have to answer questions for research, test a few equipment pieces, that sort of thing.”

Sebastian tried to hold back his skepticism, he was in no position to bargain after all, but he was never quite good at holding his tongue. “What happens when they don’t need me anymore? For…volunteer work, I mean. Will I ever be able to go home?”

Barlowe took in a deep breath and stroked his trimmed beard. He thought for a long while before responding, “Anything is possible. Urbanshade is pretty flexible with these things, if you can imagine. You behave well and you’ll see your family again. That is what this is about, yeah? You miss your folks?”

He almost laughed, “Is that even a question?”

“What a family man. Well then, Sebastian, at the risk of losing my job,” Barlowe leaned in close and whispered, “Urbanshade has been known to pardon some lucky souls before. Play your cards right and that could be you. You’ll be happy to know that they work fast too. They might not need you for long. In just a year or two, you could be walking out of there a free man.”

Sebastian internally battled with himself. On one hand, the man’s words were unnervingly vague. Barlowe never guaranteed anything, this whole deal was a big game of luck and chance for Sebastian. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t continue to waste his life here, waiting to succumb to death. He hated going to sleep on his cold and hard bed in his cramped cell. He hated spending most of his day thinking about what he could’ve been doing had he not been caught up in this mess. 

But more than any of that, he hated not only being able to see his family for a limited time through glass. He missed helping his mother cook. He missed annoying Mira while she was trying to study or playing video games with Callum. He missed seeing them happy- genuinely happy. He hated the fake smile his mom put up to make him feel better. He hated the look of shame across Mira donned. And strangely enough, he hated that he hadn’t even gotten to see a disgraced look upon Callum’s face. He didn’t care if it was a glare, bottling up all of the world’s hatred and wrath, he wanted to be given the chance to see him at least.

“You can always decline the offer and bite the bullet now, if you prefer those chances, of course. Maybe death row is more comfy than I’m giving it credit for.”

Right, “offer”, Sebastian thought bitterly. “Offer” implied that there was a choice, like he had any room to say no. It was pretty obvious what he wanted to do— what he had to do. Not only for himself, but for his family. 

The man slid a pen over as Sebastian flipped through the packet. It was full of a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo. The information was decorated in fancy language Sebastian wasn’t familiar with. His grip on the paper tightened, creasing the sides. It wasn't a matter of deciding, but rather finding the will to pick up the pen and sign his name on the dotted line, that made the process so difficult. He felt his pride wilt away with every draw of the line, and he couldn't keep his eyes open when he went to dot the “i”. Hope resided in his chest. He had gone this far, he could keep going.

He’d make it home, and his mother would understand, she always did. From the time that he broke her favorite flowerpot, to the moment he was arrested.

“You're a good boy, Sebastian. The rest of the world may have forgotten that, but don't let yourself, for even a moment, doubt it.”

Barlowe collected the papers and pen, “You made the right choice, Solace.”

He certainly hoped he did. 

Barlowe wasn’t lying when he said Urbanshade worked quickly. The moment Sebastian had finished his meeting, he was transported to the back of a truck. A bag was placed over his head for the whole drive. For privacy reasons, he was told.

The drive was long and difficult. His cuffs would dig into his skin every time the truck took a turn and set him off balance. The bag smelt like it had been sitting in a basement its whole life, and it was incredibly itchy. Some of the loose ends would get tangled in his outgrown hair from time to time. He wasn't alone either, there were armed men in there with him. He knew that because he could hear them adjust their hold on their guns periodically.

He tried his hardest to keep a steady breath, fighting against the dizziness that consumed his system. He couldn’t help but be on edge. The knowledge that several guards were surrounding him, ready to aim if he stepped out of line, had his tied down limbs shaking. He tried to focus on the cold sweat dripping down his forehead to keep from spiraling down into a panic. 

When the truck finally stopped, he was blindly dragged out. Sebastian couldn't make out where he was. The air stunk of fish and salt. The sound of water splashing echoed throughout. By the time he was finally freed from the bag, he was already being shoved inside of what he assumed was a submarine. 

He wasn't the only one there. There were other prisoners, all heavily strapped down. There wasn't a single part of their bodies that wasn't tied down, and bags were placed over their heads. The top half was made of mesh, allowing them to state at Sebastian silently. The bottom half was a white plastic, what purpose it served, he wasn't sure.  Some of them had “high risk prisoner” stamped on their suit in red ink.

“High risk?” Sebastian mumbled to himself.

A guard, dressed from head to toe in sleek black body armor, gripped him by the shoulder.

“I wouldn't stress about it, just try to keep your space and you'll be fine.” He laughed as he shoved Sebastian into an empty seat, and began to fasten the restraints. 

They were needlessly tight, the one wrapping around his stomach left little room for air. Sebastian's breaths were shallow, his abdomen trying its best to fight against the strap. His breaths only became more shaky once the guard went to place a white bag over his head.

“Don't take it personal, kid. We have to do this to all of you regardless of behavior. Protocol and all.” His words went in one ear and out the other as the bag was placed over his head. 

Sebastian could only focus on the pounding sound of his heartbeat as the guards exited the submarine. 

Sebastian was in Urbanshade’s Hadal Site, he learned quickly. Submerged deep into the murky waters, away from civilization and contact. 

The air always felt thick and moist. The place reeked of the strong scent of cleaning chemicals and sanitation, and the rooms were towering. They swallowed you whole in big open spaces. It was a nice change from the tiny rooms he was squished into before, but the vast rooms held so much room for possibility, like anything could be waiting in the corners. It was unnerving.

“You’re next, Solace.”

Sebastian was shoved forward by an armed guard. He stepped in front of the height chart and held up his card detailing his name and assigned ID number. 

“Smile.” The photographer snapped a picture, the blinding flash burning his eyes. “Off you go now, low-rank.”

Sebastian stepped off the black mat and handed in his board. A new uniform was placed into his hands as a replacement. Guards led him down a long hallway. They idly chatted amongst themselves, as though Sebastian weren’t there.

“Did you hear that Jeff got moved over to the N.O.S.T security division?”

“You’re kidding! That’s one hell of a promotion. Those guys always get to retire early. Heard the pay is incredible.”

“It doesn’t sound all that worth it to me. They barely ever come back to get paid in the first place.”

“Eh, yeah but they get to see all of the cool stuff. The fish get boring after a while.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. There’s been reports of something real dangerous and big floating around the drills. The thing eats bullets, some of the survivors say. I wouldn’t be surprised if they start sending in low-ranks to handle it.”

“Hah, hear that, low-rank? You might have to swim with the fishies soon.” The man knocked his shoulder into Sebastian’s. The men laughed. He could only keep walking, wondering to himself if they were trying to scare him or if there was seriously something horrifying in the waters that consumed them.

Eventually, they stopped at a locked door. One of the guards scanned something on their wrist, causing the sturdy machinery to whirr and open up his new cell.

It was much bigger than he expected, at least in comparison to what he had before. It was well lit and cleaned, not a speck of dirt in sight. In the corner was a curtain concealing a toilet. How kind of them to give him privacy.

“There ya go, pal. Get changed ASAP, that new jumpsuit is what prevents you from being shot on sight.”

Sebastian turned to the guard with wide eyes, hoping to find any signs that it was a joke made in poor taste. His only response was a shove into his cell and the door sliding shut. He stood there for a solid minute, desperately trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. He was miles away from home, stuck in a place whose location was kept a secret from him. This wasn’t ideal, but he could make this work. It wasn’t permanent anyway. If he did as they asked, Sebastian had a chance at being let go, and that was more than he had before.

He looked down at the neatly folded uniform in his hands. Stitched onto the chest of the dark blue fabric was “LR-P.”  He squinted as he noticed an inverted pentagram printed onto the suit. That was…strange.

He decided not to read too much into it as he changed.

Sebastian was kept surprisingly busy. Every day he was called in to complete a task or a test, and without any explanation of what it was for, he would be sent back to his cell. It was all strange. One day he’d be requested to donate blood, the next he was taste testing candy canes.

One particular instance easily won as the strangest questionnaire he had to participate in. He was sat down and shown a picture of a skinned and headless corpse. You would have thought it would have made him sick, but it only filled him with desperation instead. He felt the strange need to provide it with furs so she could stay warm. 

He was asked to identify the corpse, and found himself stating, with no hesitation, “That’s my wife.”

“Have you ever been married, Mr. Solace?”

“Never exactly got the chance. Being arrested for murder really kills your chances.”

“And yet this is…?”

“My wife.”

He hadn’t realized how strange the situation was until he was sent back to his cell. From the murmurs he picked up on his way out, everyone recognized the corpse as their wife. 

Sebastian never cared for ghosts or the paranormal. He wasn’t a huge believer in them like his sister was, but it was hard to ignore the glaring red flags present. The inverted pentagrams stamped everywhere, the corpse that makes you think of it as your wife, the strange fish situation the guards brought up when he first got there. And the list didn’t end there.

Guards were posted everywhere, heavy duty guns in hand at all times. At random, sirens or alarms would sound, and swarms of guards would rush out in a single file line. Some came back, a lot of them didn't. If he strained his ears, he could hear faint cries throughout the day.

He was constantly being watched. There were security cameras at every corner. As if that wasn't enough, there were men and women in lab coats who regularly circled through the cells, silently watching. Sometimes they’d take another prisoner with them. What they were looking for, Sebastian wasn't sure, but he still felt unease settle within his stomach everytime their eyes lingered on him. It all made him wonder what Urbanshade was even trying to achieve. 

Despite the constant state of unease, he was doing relatively well. His tasks were simple and to the point.

Well, they were simple in concept. Having to carry around heavy boxes wasn’t fun. Sebastian grunted as he set down a heavy package beside a fellow prisoner. He was sat at some table with a prototype of what looked to be some sort of flashlight. 

A beeping collar settled around the disgruntled man’s neck. He had a cigarette between his lips and the top half of his jumpsuit was left neglected to hang at his hips. He grunted out a quick, “Thanks.”

Sebastian’s eyes drifted down to the printed “Doug - MR-P” tag on his shirt. The man followed the movement.

“You new here?”

Sebastian shrugged, “Got here about a week ago.”

Doug shook his head, “Yeah, I can tell. Word of advice? Play nice and you’ll do fine, boy. Do yourself a favor and work up to medium rank. The work gets grueling but the benefits are worth it.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigs. He offered the box to him. Sebastian shook his head.

“Thanks, but I don’t smoke.” He had tried it once back in high school when a friend offered it. He coughed it up immediately and faced the wrath of his sister when he got home and she smelled the nicotine on him. She had promised not to snitch as long as he never picked up another cigarette again.

The man laughed, “Hah, just give it some time. Once you’ve seen what I have, you’ll do anything to ease the edge.”

Sebastian swallowed, seeing an opportunity now that the guards weren’t breathing down his back. “What does this place even do? I’ve done everything from reviewing lollipops to identifying corpses and I can’t get my mind around what all of this is for.”

The man blew out a trail of smoke, “See, that’s your first mistake. You’re askin’ questions. Don’t do that. Less you know, the better. Trust me.”

That did little to reassure him, but he didn’t get a chance to push further. He was rushed off to try different ice cream flavors. 

Weeks flew by with the same routine. Weeks of not speaking to his family weighed heavy on him. He never got a chance to tell his mom about the “offer.” If he had known Urbanshade would whisk him away so quickly, he would've asked to take some time to think about it. It would be some time before he’d be able to see them again, it’s not like they could swim down to see him. He wondered what they were told, if they even knew where he was. He hoped they wouldn’t be upset with him for leaving without warning. 

They’d do fine without him, he reminded himself. They were all strong enough to keep going without him there, they always were. And once Urbanshade was done with him, he’d see them again. He’d finally be able to hug his mom again, to know that she’s really there, and that all of this was behind them. It would take some work, but he’d do whatever necessary to earn back Mira and Callum’s respect. He’d prove to them that he was never the heartless murderer the jury deemed him to be. And they’d be together again, safe, happy, and home.

He just needed to figure out how he could work his way to getting pardoned. 

Sebastian awoke one night to his cell door sliding open. 

“Hey, what prisoner rank are you?”

A pool of light crawled through the doorway, a silhouette of a man being the only thing to shield him from going blind. He sat up slowly, sleep yet to have released him from its clutches quite yet.

“Huh?”

“This is the low-ranking section, yes? Am I lost again?”  A man dressed in a long white lab coat stood before him. The glare in his safety goggles made it difficult to make out his eyes, but his rosy nose and lips stood out. He looked flushed and sweaty. One glance at his tag read that the man was named Dr. Truman, part of the bioparanormal team. 

Bioparanormal? What did that mean?

Sebastian cleared his throat, “Uh…yeah, I’m low-rank...sir.”

The man nodded. “Perfect, perfect, that's perfect!” He adjusted his goggles to scratch at his eye before placing them back down. He awkwardly fidgeted with his hands for a moment, pacing in his spot as if he forgot that Sebastian was there. When he finally looked back up at him, he made a face as though he remembered what he was doing, “Come with me!” 

It was funny how he said it as though it were a suggestion. Like his hands weren't cuffed in front of him, like guards hadn’t rushed him out of his room using the tips of their barrels to push him forward. Rather, it was said like he was a fellow coworker the man was excited to show off his latest findings to. He envied how excited the man was able to be at what felt to be an ungodly time. It was difficult to tell the time when you were plunged underwater, but he could feel it in his heavy eyelids.

They led Sebastian to an area of the blacksite that he hadn't seen before. The rooms were much larger. The doors were huge, made to not only fit crowds of people through, but giant trucks loaded with cargo as well. Workers travelled through the rooms. He heard the familiar faint cries he occasionally picked up on while completing his jobs. They were much louder now, the low growls shaking the floor. It all nearly made his heart stop. Just what were they keeping here?

As they walked, Truman occasionally turned to look back at him. His expression was difficult to read. His face changed rapidly, never satisfied. Eventually he clapped his hands together, “So! It's Solace, right? Am I right?” He looked back at him, an eager smile present on his face.

Sebastian hesitated. His name tag was clipped to his jumpsuit, wasn't it? He decided not to answer as he found nothing nice to say in his tired and grumpy state, and he needed to keep a clean record. Comply to get pardoned, he reminded himself. He settled for a nod.

“That’s a nice name. Never heard that one. You’re pretty lucky, some people out there get the short end of the stick when it comes to last names.”

“...Yeah, sure.” Sebastian blinked away the haze that clouded his vision. Truman was extremely talkative, more so than any of the other workers here. Maybe he could get answers. “Hey uh, out of curiosity, is it really possible to get pardoned down here?”

“Oh, someone’s not enjoying their time down here,” He had the audacity to laugh, “that’s only for the prisoners who sign up for more…special tasks, to put it lightly. But cheer up, I’m sure you’ll get that opportunity some time! What we’re doing today won’t qualify for that, unfortunately for you.”

Great.

Truman perked up, “You look nervous, is this your first time?”

“First time doing…what?”

“Oh, you know! Helping out the bioparanormal division- well, not technically. I explained to the big man so many times that I specialize in paranormal beings, but he still insisted on giving me assignments dealing with non-paranormal entities. So even though you’re helping a bioparanormal specialist, you’re not helping the division, but that’s neither here nor there!”

It took Sebastian a solid minute to digest all of what Truman said. “I'm sorry, entities?”

“Oh, so it is your first time! I better not spoil anything in that case.” 

Truman stayed quiet after that, leaving Sebastian to openly gape on his own. Entities? Is that what Urbanshade was about? Studying monsters?

What had he gotten himself into?

Eventually, Dr. Truman led them inside a huge room. Sebastian was pushed inside, the door closing behind him. It was pitch black, save for the little light coming through the giant window. Empty waters sat on the other side of the glass. 

Truman’s voice came over the intercom, “My apologies, we have to keep everything dark. This entity’s eyes are pretty sensitive!” 

Sorry, he was in a room with one? Sebastian’s breathing became shaky. He was going to die, wasn’t he? 

“Now, Solace, your job is going to be very, very simple,” Truman continued, “Am entity is going to come in front of the glass. I’m going to observe how you react to it, and if you survive, then you get to go back to your cell. Easy, right?”

A beat passed by.

Truman didn’t add anything else.

He was serious?

“Alright, get ready!”

Sebastian heard the sound of a heavy gate being lifted. He couldn’t see anything in the window, not for a long while.

But eventually, a subtle green glow emerged from the deep waters.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian froze in place, goosebumps trailing his skin.

“Mom…?” It sounded like her. Exactly like her. But she couldn’t be down here. No.

“Mijo, what are you doing down here? You’re supposed to be home.” Her voice, her words, her tone, her her her her.

This was wrong. All of his senses were screaming that at him. His eyes burning from dryness, his ears ringing, his skin crawling, it all came together to tell him that this was wrong.

And yet he couldn’t look away. Not when the alluring green light grew closer and closer.

“This is all a misunderstanding, Seb. Everyone knows it. They’ll let you come home now that they know.”

Home, that’s all he wanted right now. He wanted to go home.

“They’ll let you go, I know they will. All you have to do is look into my eyes.”

He had been trying so hard to remain strong for his family, for himself. He was tired of it. He just wanted to go home now. Home. All he had to do was look. Then he would be home.

“Look into my eyes.”

Bright green eyes bored holes into his own. It stung staring at them, but it felt so freeing. So comforting. He was going home.

“Good, good, just keep looking into my eyes.”

Her voice was sweet, sickeningly so. It was…wrong. Wrong his senses reminded him, wrong. This wasn’t right. He felt something wet above his upper lip. He looked down as he gently wiped it. Blood. 

“Look back up at me, Sebastian. You want to go home, don’t you?”

Sebastian’s head hurt now that he was looking away. How he had missed such a splitting headache like this before, he was unsure. He looked back up, and this time, it wasn’t the alluring green eyes that caught his attention first, but rather, the giant shark that it belonged to.

You could’ve stacked twenty men and it still wouldn’t have been enough to reach even half of its length. Its grey skin had rips and tears in it, with bright emerald eyes peeking out of every nook and cranny. Fishing hooks and spears decorated its fins, and layers of dead and shredded skin hung off of the beast like it was a thin robe. 

“Look into my eyes, Sebastian. Don’t you want to see your family again?” The voice was loud and ear splitting. It tried so hard to sound familiar, and if he let himself give in, it would have. But he couldn’t let himself fall under its spell again.

Sebastian turned his back to the beast, trying his best to steady his shaking hands. It was as though his skull was getting ripped open, allowing the contents to spill all over the twisting floor that shook beneath him. The once smooth design of it now swirled into shapes and colors until it dissolved into nothingness. 

“Look at me, Sebastian. You’re letting them down, you know? All you have to do is look into my eyes and you’re refusing?”

Sebastian began slowly walking back towards the door. The room swayed in protest, his head naturally trying to swivel back to face the monster behind him. He fought it off with each trembling step. 

“You had no issues signing your life over to Urbanshade. You had no issues moving miles away and burying yourself hundreds of feet underwater. It was so easy to leave them behind, can’t you do them this one favor to make up for it?”

That wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, he couldn’t listen.

“Look. Into. My. Eyes. You’ll never see them again if you don’t! Look at me!” It chanted it.

Look at me.

Look at me.

Look at me.

Sebastian heard the distant sound of the door opening. He heard footsteps. He felt someone grabbing his arms and forcing him forward.

You’ll never see them again, Sebastian. Never.

[stars4noah]

HALLEY'S COMET- three.

{WARNINGS}: swearing, drinking, allusions to depression, reader and noah making up yayyyy 🥳🥳

w.c- 2,898

a.n- if you guys couldn't tell by now, this story has kinda turned from being inspired by only halley's comet to being inspired by the entire album! go listen to happier than ever by billie eilish. the album. not the song.

enjoy! <3

{TAGLIST}: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @chey-h @rumoured-whispers @oobleoob

if you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment!

i haven't slept since sunday. midnight for me is three a.m. for you.

three more weeks passed since everything happened. the next day, noah tried to come back. i told him to stay away. forever. i promised him that i would be just fine without him, that i didn't need him to prove to me that he was something he didn't want to be. because i was so convinced he didn't want to be better. he just wanted his photographer back.

i started working at a local coffee shop, the spark in my eyes that was once consistent now gone. i didn't have that kind voice that everyone grew to love. i didn't put any effort into my appearance. i just threw my hair into a ponytail and moved on.

a lot of the time, i was glad i lived alone. i could fall back into old habits without being scolded. like drinking, for example. it was the only way i knew how to handle my feelings. which wasn't working very well.

but you're all it takes for me to break a promise.

i knew the next time i saw his face i would break. i would run back. i would stay. spending years with somebody who you're secretly in love with will do that to a person. so i made it my goal to purposefully ignore him.

every time i would go home, i would scroll mindlessly on my phone. i found out that noah canceled the rest of the tour. mental health reasons, or whatever. i rolled my eyes, turning off my phone and cracking open yet another bottle of liquor, feeling the familiar burn go down my throat that i've grown accustomed to. i walked around my apartment mindlessly, humming some unfamiliar tune to myself.

these past few weeks, music has been my number one savior. aside from alcohol.

NOAH'S POV.

these weeks without her proved to be difficult. having fallen into a depression after alyssa and i broke up, [y/n] leaving only made it worse. i sat in my room, staring at the door. sometimes i would pray that she would walk through. surprise me and say it was all just a cruel prank.

countless bottles of hennessy sat in front of my bed. that was all i had been doing. drinking and working out and writing to ease away the pain.

"but nevertheless, i'm fucking depressed. i hide it with sex, and drink till it's fatal." i murmured to myself, taking another sip from the bottle before letting it clatter to the ground, snatching my pen and paper from my desk.

when i went through things like this, i always liked to write down my thoughts. some of those thoughts ended up in songs. and since we were in the middle of writing a new album, this was perfect.

there was a knock at the door and i grumbled a greeting, my eyes never leaving the paper. a couple seconds later, jolly walked in.

"christ, man, you look like hell."

i hummed, continuing to write as he sat in front of me.

"look, i know you're struggling. because of-"

i knew exactly who he was talking about. i didn't want to hear her name. she hurt me enough. "don't say her name."

jolly sighed. "because of her. but dude, we're worried. you know none of it was your fault, right? she was stupid to do that to you."

i scoffed. "she said it herself, jolly. 'he's richer, hotter, and bigger'" i scowled, repeating her words that she had said to me that night. some part of me regretted walking out of that door. i loved her. for years. and i had grown used to loving her. she was all that i had. she was what made me what i am. she was right, really. i would be nothing without her.

"you're doing it again." he said. at this point, i had stopped writing, staring off into space. "doing what?"

"that thing you do when you get all into your head. blaming yourself for everything. how many times do i have to tell you it's not your fault for you to get it in your head, man?" he said, sternly but gently.

i rolled my eyes. "you're wrong."

"how?"

"because i loved her, jolly. i fucking loved her, and i screwed it all up because i can never do anything right. i'll never be good enough. for myself, or anybody."

i buried my face in my hands, sobs racking my body once more. i never liked to be this vulnerable with anybody, even my closest friends. but honestly? i didn't give a fuck anymore. let them see.

"i know man. i know." he said, rubbing his hand over my back in an attempt to sooth me.

it pained jolly to see me like this. i knew that. but it was better to tell people of my thoughts than to keep it bottled up inside, right?

READERS POV.

i was making that damn song all the way till the early morning. i didn't even realize how late it had gotten until i woke up to my alarm. i had fallen asleep at my desk, my computer still running and everything. i didn't have work today, so that left me plenty of time to do whatever the hell i wanted.

months passed. months without seeing or talking to him. i would occasionally text the others, but i wouldn't dare send him a single text. i caught up a bit with folio and jolly, telling them about my ongoing journey with music. i still pursued photography as a side hustle, but my main focus was getting this song perfect.

it was almost done. almost ready to be released. maybe as an album? no, i can't get too carried away. music isn't for me. but as i listened to the song and made sure everything was right, my feelings began to change.

"i don't want it, and i don't want to want you. but in my dreams, i seem to be more honest. and i must admit, you've been in quite a few."

it wasn't a lie. he had began to show up more often in my dreams. not as nightmares, but as something that we could've been.

"Halley's Comet comes around more than i do. but you're all it takes for me to break a promise. silly me to fall in love with you."

that promise. that stupid promise.

"[y/n], please. let me explain-"

"no, noah! i don't care about your shitty explanations and your shitty behavior and your stupid face! i promise, i'll be just fine without you. leave me alone!"

"i haven't slept since sunday. mdnight for me is 3:00 a.m. for you. but my sleepless nights are better with you than nights could ever be alone, ooh-ooh-ooh. i was good at feeling nothing, now i'm hopeless. what a drag to love you like i do, ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh."

it wasn't entirely a lie. when i imagined him in the bed next to me, it felt like i could sleep better. when i pretended everything was okay, everything felt lighter. the weight on my shoulders seemed to momentarily disappear, only to crash back down when i realized it was all just a fantasy.

"ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh. i've been loved before, but right now in this moment i feel more and more like i was made for you. for you. i'm sitting in my brother's room. haven't slept in a week or two, or two. i think i might have fallen in love. what am i to do?"

as the song ended, i found myself picking up my phone, going to his contact. i laughed softly to myself as i saw the contact. it was still the same. when everything was nice. when i wasn't all alone. i decided to jump the gun, shooting him a text.

i breathed out a sigh of relief. maybe he didn't hate me as much as i thought. i immediately thought back to the time i took it. when things were better. happier.

"come on! put it on!" i laughed, holding out the little plastic tiara to him. we had gone to disney world for a summer vacation, and i won a tiara from one of the game booths.

"i'm not putting that on." he said, his arms folded across his chest.

i pouted, looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes i knew he couldn't resist until he groaned, snatching the tiara from my hands and putting it on his head. despite his previously grumpy demeanor, he still wore a smile when i took the pictures.

i missed that.

the moment i saw him walk through those doors, it was like everything hit me all at once. he looked terrible. i did too, but definitely better in comparison.

"hi." i said softly.

"hi." he said back, sitting down in front of me with his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

i bit my lip as we sat in an awkward silence for a moment before i spoke.

"noah, i-"

"[y/n]-"

i couldn't help but smile softly as we spoke at the same time.

"you first." he said.

i took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself. "i know you've been through a lot, noah. and i should've taken that into consideration when i said all that shit. honestly, i haven't been doing too well myself, if you couldn't tell." i said, gesturing to myself.

"it sounds stupid as fuck, but it feels like theres this void in my chest that's just been so empty since i left. i miss you guys. i miss the band." i said.

he sensed there was something more. "but...?"

"but," i began. "i can't come back as the photographer. after i've recovered somewhat from everything, i realized photography isn't for me. i was to pursue something bigger."

"like?"

"music."

he raised his eyebrows. "you want to become a musician?"

"i know, it sounds absurd and like a child's dream, but i really think-"

"no, [y/n] that's fucking amazing." he said with a small laugh, leaning forward. i smiled slightly. there was that smile i missed.

"yeah?"

"yeah. i mean, i've only heard you sing a handful of times, but you're great. you're gonna make it big, trust me." he said.

my heart warmed at his words. "thank you." i said.

"look, [y/n], i'll be the first to admit how much of a douche i was to you. i've had time to think about it. to get over it and stop wallowing in self-pity. and i'm really sorry. i'm kinda shocked you didn't quit sooner, honestly. but, if you'd like, we could start fresh. you don't have to come back to the band, but we can hang out and shit. maybe i can help you with your music."

his words only made my smile brighten. "yeah, i'd like that. a lot. thank you."

"of course, princess."

after our little friend date, we went to his studio to work on some things. he showed me how different things worked and helped me on writing a song that i had been thinking about.

i bit my lip, jotting down a few lyrics in my notebook as he watched.

i don't really wanna know why you went there. i kinda don't care. you want to kill me? you want to hurt me? stop being flirty. it's kinda working.

i hummed a soft tune to myself as i read the lyrics, trying to figure out what would work right.

did you really think this is the right thing to do? is it news? news to who? that i really looked just like the rest of you.

noah snapped me out of my continuous thoughts, turning back to the computer. "i've been working on stuff, too." he said.

"yeah?"

he hummed in response, pulling up a file full of different songs. "pick one." he said, leaning back.

i bit my lip in thought before clicking on the one titled The Grey.

"evened the scores, then i let it all go fall apart. and every step forward put a little more sword in your heart, yeah. looking sideways when i say i'm okay with the past. but i'm afraid of what i might say if you ask."

i leaned back in my chair as i listened to the lyrics, knowing that this song could be about one of two people. me, or alyssa.

"gave you way too many chances, you ran through them all. got everything i could want but it wasn't enough. nobody left for me to talk to, nobody to call. got everything i could want but i still wanted more. yeah, i still wanted more."

the pure emotion in his voice was enough to make my heart break into pieces and clarify who it was about. i knew after what happened with her, he was broken. and this song was only proof.

"there's not another way, don't let me go. don't dig another grave today. i'll make the same mistakes, i'll never know who i was before i faded away into the grey."

the recording stopped, and my eyes darted from the screen to his face. "that's all i have right now." he said. "we have more sessions later this week to finish it."

i gulped. "noah..."

he looked at me and raised a brow. "what?"

"that was fucking beautiful."

i almost felt like i was going to cry. i always loved his voice, but that was on a whole other level. usually he was screaming. he never had those soft vocals like what i just heard.

he smiled softly. "thanks. now get in there."

i blinked, shaking my head. "sorry, what?"

"go on. get in the booth. i want to hear you sing this. we can figure something out."

"noah, i-" "don't argue. go."

i sighed, getting up and heading into the recording booth. maybe it would be okay. i wouldn't fuck it up. i put on the headphones, looking back up at him through the glass. "which one?" i asked.

he hummed, looking through the notebook i had left on the desk.

"what about my future? start it off strong."

i nodded, mentally preparing myself for whatever the hell was about to happen.

"i can't seem to focus, and you don't seem to notice i'm not here. i'm just a mirror. you check your complexion to find your reflection's all alone. i had to go. can't you hear me? i'm not coming home. do you understand? i've changed my plans. cause i, i'm in love with my future. and i, i'm in love. but not with anybody else. just wanna get to know myself."

it really was a beautiful song. and it was me putting all of my feelings on the line. the lyrics didn't have a deeper meaning to them like noah's often did. their meaning was just laid flat out. i changed my plans for the future, and i'm waiting to sort things out with myself before falling in love again.

"i know supposedly i'm lonely now. know i'm supposed to be unhappy without someone. but aren't i someone? i'd like to be your answer. cause you're so handsome. but i know better than to drive you home. cause you'd invite me in, and i'd be yours again."

the lyrics seemed to flow freely as i sang, my eyes closed and hands moving in random directions. i didn't even notice him staring.

"but i, i'm in love. with my future. and you don't know her, mm. and i, i'm in love. but not with anybody here. i'll see you in a couple years."

i opened my eyes and looked at noah, noticing how his mouth was slightly open. i laughed. "don't start drooling."

he shook himself out of his thoughts. "sorry, that was just. really fucking good. you're a natural, princess. i'm jealous." he said.

i rolled my eyes, stepping out of the booth.

"great, now let's work out a tune."

we spent hours and hours fixing up the song, getting carried away in our musical abilities. last time i checked, it was around 2 am. i didn't want to go home, so i suggested we took a little break and watched a movie or something. he nodded and we sat on the couch, turning on the tv (of course he turned on naruto). my head ended up lulling to the side, landing on his shoulder as i slowly fell asleep. the last thing my brain registered before falling into dreamland was the soft kiss on my forehead and his soft words.

"goodnight, princess."

his lips against mine felt like heaven. it felt like my whole life was complete when i kissed him, when i felt him. he felt like home. something i hadn't known in a long time. i pulled away, breathing slightly heavy as i looked into his chocolate brown eyes.

"noah.." i whispered.

he smiled softly and hummed.

"i fucking love you."

"mm.. [y/n]." he mumbled against my lips.

"princess."

"[Y/N]!"

[thefreelancebioexorcist]

Byron looked down at Lydia with a supportive look after giving her a quick kiss, reaching to give her hand a quick squeeze before Charles ushered him out the door. He could immediately tell that she was worried from not only the look on her face, but from the sheer amount of nervous energy that was radiating off her. This would be the first time they had been such a distance apart in the mortal realm. Separation between the Nether and the world of the living didn't really count, since he was free to roam in the Nether. But in the mortal realm, he was bound to her, and they hadn't really tested the limits of the boundary their original contract put upon him. Betelgeuse had always assumed he had a fairly long leash due to his wanderings at the college, but then again he didn't stray very far from whatever classroom Lydia was in…or he was at his home in the Nether when she was at class or work.

So, this would be the first real test of that boundary…and just how long he could hold up his mortal guise while under the pressure of that boundary, in addition to remaining corporeal. Here's hoping the trip into town was quick, because even though Betelgeuse was powerful, the energy he'd have to exert on three different points might exhaust him if he wasn't careful.

He was thankful that Charles didn't really expect him to respond to the things he was pointing out on the drive in to the hardware store, other than appearing interested in whatever they were looking at. He was far too busy trying to quell the anxiety that was roiling about within him, which he didn't really understand where that was coming from. He wasn't exactly worried about what might happen. If his guise fell later in the grocery store, he'd turn non-corporeal where Charles couldn't see him and hide out until he felt recharged enough to be able to make the car ride to their home under the guise. He could feign getting turned around in the unfamiliar place. Charles may be a business man, but the ghost had fooled him before. Furthermore, he could feel the tether now. It was like an invisible wire in his chest growing slowly tighter, but it was nowhere near the point of it's end yet.

When it did, Juno would be alerted, and he would have to high tail it back to Lydia. Of course, the poltergeist was sure Juno would understand the situation once she realized where they were. At least, he hoped so. It occurred to him that he and Lydia really should have a sit down with Juno and go over the terms and limitations of the contract again. He wasn't going anywhere. They were irrevocably bound in this life and the next, after all. Besides, he wasn't about to leave Lydia.

There wasn't much going on at the hardware store when they visited. Charles checked on the two employees who worked there, eyeballed the stock of the items sold there, made some small talk with two old ladies getting some gardening tools, and introduced Byron as Lydia's boyfriend. Byron was all charm, of course, and by the time they got to the grocery store, almost 30 minutes had passed since they reached the hardware store.

All the while, he still felt this anxious energy and it was getting worse by the time they were doing the actual shopping. Between that, holding up his guise, and the tether pulling taught-er, he was beginning to show some discomfort and tiredness on his face, so much to the point that even Charles noticed.

"Are you doing okay, Byron? You're looking a bit…ill," Charles asked, concerned, like he looked green or something.

"I, uh, think the breakfast isn't sittin' well with me fer some reason. No offense t' yer wife, o' course. I'm just gonna run t' th' boys' room and see if I can't sort m'self out. Y' keep shoppin'… I'll find y'," Byron answered, rubbing his chest like he had a bad case of heartburn. And, then he was heading towards the back of the grocery store as quickly as he could without floating. Once he was safely in the bathroom with the door locked behind him, he let the guise fall and he let out a sigh. It had helped a bit, but now the feeling of nervousness had turned to anger, which was an emotion he was very familiar with, but it occurred to him that these feelings were not his own, because at this moment he had nothing to be angry about. So the only explanation was…

Lydia.

Lydia was angry about something. Or at someone.

And then very suddenly it turned to panic.

Byron didn't like that. At all. Especially since he couldn't tell WHY she was panicked. He threw his guise back up and rushed out of the bathroom to find Charles, who was just checking out at the front of the store.

"Oh good, yer done. Lyds just messaged me that I left my wallet at the house. I kinda wanted t' get her a little somethin' while we were out, but I guess I'll wait until she an' I have the opportunity t' go into town ourselves," he said as he made a point to help Charles with the bags so they could get to the car faster.

"If you know what you want to get for her, I can loan you the--" Charles started to offer, thinking it was very sweet of Byron to do something like that for Lydia.

"No offense, Mr. Deetz, but I prefer to spend my own money on yer daughter. Now, let's get home shall we?" He said as he climbed into the passenger seat.

Charles looked a bit unnerved at the response, but got in the car anyway, as he figured maybe breakfast really did a number on him and he just wanted to get back home and lay down. Sometimes Delia's cooking did that to him too. And moments later, they were on the way back the the Deetz's home.

I'm comin', darlin'. I'm comin'.

Betelgeuse tried to feel calm, hoping whatever he was feeling would transfer back to her so she wouldn't feel as panicked. The closer they got to the house, the less tired he began to feel, and he almost launched himself out of the car when they parked. He managed to make it look like a brisk walk, saying something about wanting to make sure the ingredients got to the refrigerator before they got too warm. Delia was still in the kitchen when he got there, and he handed the bags to her with grin before he started to quickly made his way upstairs.

"Breakfast wasn't sitting well with him," Charles explained to Delia as she gave him a curious glance at Byron's quick exit.

Meanwhile, in Lydia's room, the light smell of old cigarette smoke wafted through the air as an older woman in a business suit with a string of large pearls around her neck to hide her slit throat appeared on Lydia's bed.

"Barbara, really, it will do you no good to upset the girl. You're only going to make Betel mad, and I would really rather not clean up after him," Juno stated calmly, as she fished a packet of cigarettes and a lighter out of her blazer pocket, and took one out and lit it.

As if on cue, Byron opened the door and slipped inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked right past Barbara and went straight to Lydia, as if he knew she was upset. He didn't even notice Juno until his arms were already around Lydia, and when he did, he said, without much preamble, "I didn't go beyond the limits of th' tether."

"No, you did not, but given your history with this place, this family, and the fact that I knew you were here…and that they were here." Juno pointed to Barbara with her lit cigarette. "I would have been pretty stupid not to check in. Especially since this one looks about ready to blow her top. Nice mortal disguise, by the way. Were you going to keep this from the whole family, then?"

Clearly, this question was directed at both Byron and Lydia. Byron answered first, letting his guise fall away. "Not fer forever. We wanted t' tell 'em. Just not…right away."

The panic that was tightening in her chest began to subside the very moment Betelgeuse embraced her.  Lydia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as he placed a gentle kiss against the top of her head. She gazed adoringly at him as he gave Barbara what-for, and she couldn’t help the faint smile that began to play at the corners of her mouth.

God, I love him, she thought to herself.  

Barbara, however, stood completely still, her chocolate brown eyes wide as dinner plates. Adam, too, was shocked, his jaw gone slack in awe at how this complete stranger was speaking to them as if he knew them. 

But he was passionately defending Lydia, and wouldn’t he do the very same for Barbara? Adam took note of the man’s gentle nature as he silently comforted Lydia, and how the young woman completely melted into his arms. He saw how Byron’s hand gripped Lydia’s shoulder–soft, yet with an undertone of possessiveness. As a man, he read the body language easily. It screamed “She’s mine, and you’re hurting her. This is a warning.”

Byron’s spiel ended as Charles appeared in the doorway, blissfully ignorant of what had just transpired between everyone. There was a moment of terribly awkward silence as they just stood there, not knowing how to react. 

“Oh! Uhm! I changed my mind!” Delia called out, her voice cracking a bit. She immediately started bringing out skillets and placing them on top of the stove. “How does sausage, eggs, and bacon sound? Hm? Want some toast as well? There’s orange juice in the refrigerator!” 

Lydia smiled inwardly and gave her dad a good morning kiss on the cheek. She lead Byron into the living room to sit for a bit, just so she could decompress after what had just happened. Barbara’s eyes followed them all the while, until Charles and Adam began exchanging pleasantries. 

“Thank you,” Lydia whispered, her hand finding Betelgeuse’s and giving it a tight squeeze. 

[takeyourdailydoseofcyanide]

posting isn’t giving me any sort of sense of familiarity or stability in the foundation which makes sense given that everything has been replaced yet again but damn

[hoofpeet]

I'd probably have to read the printed version and web version back to back at some point to note all the differences but... ough

[theconceptofkidney]

Wei Wuxian wonders how he didn't notice before. It's true that he didn't know about these things back then, but couldn't he have noticed something was off? "Wei-xiong, I…" Huaisang fiddles with his fan. He makes as if to open it, then closes it. He looks to the table, to the window, to his fan. "I don't know." They hadn't seen each other face to face since Wuxian came back. He's had his suspicions, yes, but he hasn't been able to confirm anything. Could it be that Huaisang knows? "I…" He finally looks at him "I really don't know." He has no eyes.

-- From an early reconstruction of Wei Wuxian's thought record

[journey-to-the-attic]

hmm not sure how to feel about obey me running the same pop quiz concurrently in both games

there's a weird disconnect - the new ui and sfx of nightbringer did a good job of giving that disjointed feeling of being somewhere unfamiliar, but given that the pop quiz seems to be taking place in the present that mc came from, the nightbringer ui just feels.... off in the wrong way

given that i've got more resources there i'll probably keep using the original game to play the pop quizzes, but since you can get devil points for s ranking a rhythm stage in nightbringer, seems like these events will be a good place to farm some!

(though in the first place i'd rather they finish the nightbringer story before adding supplementary content like this)

[5-pp-man]

i thought i already finished samflam a week ago.