#this was my first thought reading the title- i’m tired listen

[scorchedmazes]

[halfbloodfics]

hi I’m not sure if anyone has asked for something like this but how about a dark and possessive snape, he walks into the great hall for dinner and sees reader all happy and talking to Remus lupin so he gets jealous and angry fucks reader 😭(sorry I get if this is weird)

YYYYEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW

Title: R U mine?

pairing: snape x female prof!reader, established relationship

18+ minors dni for the love of god.

cw: harddom!snape, rough sex, face fucking, choking, hair pulling, degrading, spanking, finger sucking, angry sex, threats of voyerism but no voyerism, begging, threats orgasm denial, ownership kink, slight breeding kink, fluffy ending, lil bit of aftercare described/rest of it implied

disclaimer: this is certainly a more rough smut than the other ones i've written. in ALL my writing, i always write with the intent that the actions of both characters are fully consensual, informed and desired. in this smut in particular, consent is explicitly given, but it is also provided before hand. i always write with the idea that characters boundaries, desires, safe words etc have been previously discussed. while smut is fun to read, extra care needs to be taken irl with hardcore sex and more rough kinks. consent, boundaries, and safewords are important xox

~

Severus had had a day, to say the least. He'd spent the previous 6 hours dealing with students and staff who seemed to be more interested in causing disturbances than their academic pursuits. Needy colleagues, roudy students and a quite literal physical fight between two first year Gryffindors.... Not to mention the never ending pile of papers on his desk that he had barely put a dent in, or the looming reminders of Dumbledore's plan creeping into the back of his tired mind. Severus had had, a day.

He found a quiet relief in the idea of spending the evening, alone, with his partner, you. Even if the past six hours had been excruciating, even if he still had more work to do today and the next day, and even the day, hell weeks, after that, at least tonight he could be by her side.

His gaze softened at the mere thought of it, walking down the long, stone corridors of Hogwarts down to the Great Hall.

A dinner. That's it. He thought. A simple meal, eat a few bites, take a few sips of wine, pretend to be at least somewhat listening to the small talk around. And then peace, finally p-

His thoughts trailed off as he entered the Great Hall to see you there. His brows furrowing once again, not at the sight of you, looking as gorgeous as ever, your hair down, dress hanging perfectly off your body. Not at the stunning smile on your face, the scrunch of your nose as you grinned or he rise of your chest as you laughed; not even at the fact that it wasn't him eliciting such a response.

No. It was the fact that the man who was, was none other than Remus Lupin.

His jaw clenched as he approached, waiting for the moment you so graciously would decide to pay attention to your own partner instead of the bloody werewolf beside you.

When he was steps away from his seat, you turned, face lighting up even more at the sight of him. His own expression was stoic, unmoving as he his gaze remained almost harshly on Lupin as you kissed his cheek in greeting.

With the food appearing before you, the three of you took your seats. Severus to your right, Lupin to your left, you in the middle. You began to cut into your food, continuing the conversation you had been having with Lupin before Severus had entered; blissfully "unaware" of your partners clenched jaw, his hardening grip on the fork as he began to cut a little harder into his food.

Your head tossed back in laughter once more, Severus could feel his frustration mounting. He picked at his food as you continued with giggling, counting down the minutes until you'd be excused.

~

It was late at night when you finally knocked on the door to Severus's chamber. The short grunt of acknowledgement on the other side prompted you to enter. You closed the door quietly behind you, taking off your coat and hanging it on the hanger.

"Hi, love." You spoke softly. When you didn't hear a response, you turned to look at him, really, look at him; and that's when you noticed the look in his eyes.

Leaning back in his chair, Severus sat with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His black hair hung slightly in front of his darkened eyes, the look in them akin to something you had rarely seen in him before.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the quick snap of his fingers shut you up.

"Now," He spoke, his voice low, "Now you come to me. Now you decide to grace me with your presence."

Your lips still parted, your brows furrowed in confusion, you spoke: "Sev? What-"

"How was your dinner?" He asked through gritted teeth, leaning further back in his chair as he fingers drug into the tight dark fabric of his sleeves. "Or, should I say how was the conversation? I wouldn't know, considering I was hardly a part of it."

You open your mouth to speak again but he cut you off.

"Do you want to know, the day I've had?" He murmered, his voice low, "Do you want to know, the shit... I've put up with?"

You let your lips close again, feeling the heat in your abdomen grow with the dangerously low sound of his voice. You both knew how much you liked when got like this... The possessive, darker side that you'd pull from deep within him if you wanted to. And you knew, that you certainly had wanted to. Why else would you laugh so loudly, at Lupins jokes, right beside Severus? Why else would you choose to ignore the clench of his jaw as he sat still beside you? You both had had countless conversations on the nature of this jealousy. On the boundaries of it, on the dangers, on the pleasures... And Severus knew exactly what pleasures you liked.

You stared at him from across the room, feet planted firmly in place. His gaze hardened as he watched your blank expression remain unmoving.

His chin tilted down only a little more, just enough for the dim candle light to cast dark shadows under his eyes. His anger dancing clearly upon his face now, he spoke, his voice a dangerously low hiss:

"Do you want to know, how I had been waiting, yearning, a single ounce of relief from the burdens thrust upon me? The promise of sitting beside my girl? Seeing her smile for me?"

You stayed frozen, completely transfixed by the look of barely restrained rage on his face. Unbeknownst to you, the pace of your breathing had quicked, air entering your lungs in quick trembling gasps.

The beginning of an apology threatened to spill out from your quivering lips, but it died before its escape with the raise of his finger.

"Do you know, " he hisses, his voice dripping in rage, "how it feels, to see my girl, giggling like a little slut with one of the men I depise the most?"

Something fluttered in your chest, the heat growing in your abdomen with his degrading words. You parted your lips again to apologize, or maybe to protest but-

"You don't." He hissed, a loud, seething whisper.

His darkened gaze lowered, tracing a dangerous path down your trembling body.

His gaze flicked back up to your eyes and your breath died in your throat at the wild, primal rage that seemed to swim within his eyes.

"No." He murmered, his voice nearly dropping an octave. "But you will."

Your stomach dropped, his eyebrow twitched: "Come here. Now."

You didn't even think to disobey. You closed the distance between where you stood and his desk, making your way around the stack of scattered parchment to stand in front of his chair.

Severus, however, had other plans.

With one swift movement, he rose from his chair, his firm hand tangling itself roughly in your hair, forcing you to your knees.

You gasped as he gave your hair a firm tug, forcing your gaze up at him. His hair was a mess, chest rising and falling drastically wiith each breath, as if it was taking every ounce of physical strength in his battered form not to absolutely pounce on you. His pupils blown, brows furrowed as he gritted out through clenched teeth: "You want this?"

You nodded, the heat pooling between your legs, thighs subconciously rubbing together as you looked up at him, seeking friction.

He grunted, gripped your hair tighter and you let an audible gasp splip from your lips. "What's our safe word?" He hissed.

"Asphodel." You whispered. Your voice came out a breathless, shaky sound.

His right hand slipped from your hair, fingers now roughly gripping your chin, forcing your lips to part further. In an instant they were slipped inside, roughly caressing your tongue.

You gasped, gagged for a moment on the unexpected penetration.

"Little slut." He spat. "Choking on that already?"

You whimpered, lips closing around his thick fingers as you began to lightly suck, coatiing his digits in your saliva.

Severus's jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly at the sight of you on your knees, looking up at him with those wide eyes. He roughly yanked his fingers from your mouth, gripping your chin and forcing that helpless gaze up higher.

When the beginning of another apology formed itself on your tongue, his voice silenced it imediately.

"Silence. I do not want to hear a single thing from your filthy lips except for you gagging and choking on me."

You swallowed, nodded.

Fuck.

Your panties were absolutely soaked now. You were sure it was enough to soak the floor beneath you. You could certainly feel it wetting your thighs, the dull ache of your clit throbbing as you looked up at him.

His right hand went back to gripping the back of your hair tightly, his other hand roughly tugging at the buttons of his trousers, unzipping, reaching into his black boxers.

He pulled out his long, hard cock, your breath quickening at the sight of it as you mentally prepared yourself.

His grip on your hair tightened. "How do you tell me to stop?" He practically growled.

Your answer came out a shaky gasp: "Three taps."

He yanked on your hair, your lips parting to gasp and immediately being stuffed by the entirety of his thick cock. Gagging, you choked, hands instinctively coming up to hold hips and regain some sense of control. Graciously, he allowed it, too focused on roughly thrusting himself into your mouth to bother with your pointless grip on his hips.

Both hands now held your head as he roughly began to thrust into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size. Gagging, tears filled your eyes, obscuring your vision as you tried to look up at him. Giving up, you squeezed them shut, focusing on breathing through your nose as he took what he wanted.

"Open... Your eyes." He hissed, giving a series of particularly rough thrusts to your throat. "You're going to watch me fuck your face. See it's me, not your little friend."

Your eyes flew open with as you gagged to find his harsh gaze looking down on you. He continued to fuck your face mercilessly as your hands trembled on his hips. You could hardly make out the sharp features of his face as tears filled your eyes, your mascara spilling down your cheeks as he continued to use you.

He grunted, his breath coming in quick sharp gasps as both hands roughly held your head in place with each harsh, quick thrust of his hips.

"Not so talkative now, are we?" He grunted, continuing his brutal pace.

You whimpered, gagging, trying desperetely to breathe through your nose.

Focus. Inhale. Exhale. Relax.

"No." He hissed, his breathing rapid. "Finally using that slut mouth for what it's meant for."

You whined, panting through your nose, feeling his cock roughly hit the back of your throat with each painful thrust.

A low moan escaped his lips. "Not mouthing off to that fucking wolf. Not laughing at his jokes."

His pace quickened, if it was even possible. His breathing was becoming more ragged, desperate, his release coming on quick.

A low moan left Severus's lips. With this encouragment, you sucked harder, bobbing your head in time with his rough thrusts. A ragged gasp tore up from his chest, filling the air with the lewd sounds of his panting and the lewd, wet slapping of your face against his pelvis.

Both of his strong hand thrusted your head firmly against his hips, his cock now painfully pushed against the base of your throat as he held you still, firmly in place.

With a grunt, he came, his hot, salty release painting your throat. Gagging, you screwed your eyes shut as he held you in place, coaxing every last drop it down your throat.

"Swallow." He panted. "Swallow it. You pathetic slut."

When you had, he used his right hand again to grip the back of your hair and yank you off him and released you.

Air filled your lungs instantly. As if you had been drowning, you stumbled back on your knees, collapsing, panting against the floor.

For less than a minute, you stared at Severus's black shoes, painting as you tried desperately to catch your breath. When you were sure you would not pass out, you looked up at him, aware that you probably looked a mess.

He was panting as well, looking down on you with that same, seething expression. You knew it had not been enough. To fuck your face was not enough. You had really pissed him off this time. He needed more.

His voice came out through gritted teeth: "Bend over."

You tried to stand, but his hand shoved your head back down before it could rise past his hips. Looking up at him confused, you felt the realisation dawn upon you with a flutter in your chest.

"Here, on the floor?" You whispered. Your voice was softer than you expected, as if he had managed to somehow fuck your vocal chords.

His jaw twitched and you didn't dare to question him again. On weak hands, you shifted so that you were on your hands and knees on the wooden floor.

In an instant he was on top of you. His one hand pressed between your shoulder blades, pushing you down so that your face was flush against the floor. His other hand ripped off your skirt, the fabric tearing loudly.

A silencing charm was cast.

"You're lucky I have an ounce of mercy left for you after the stunt you pulled today. Otherwise I'd have let everyone hear all your pathetic little cries." He spat, hooking his right arm under your stomach and hoisting you up so that you were on your knees in your panties, your face still pinned to the floor.

Severus was often a slow lover. It wasn't pace, per say, but rather the amount of time he dedicated to sex. Majority of the time, your love making, whether on the gentler or the rougher side, lasted up to an hour, sometimes more.

That patience was lost on Severus now though, who, without even stretching you, pushed the entirity of his cock into you.

A sound that was akin to a yelp left your lips as you clawed at the floor, panting at the feeling of him stretching you out.

Severus hissed, gripped your hips with his right hand, his left still pinning you to the floor. "Dirty slut." He murmered. "Soaked just from sucking my cock?"

You whimpered, nodded, any shame having long abandoned you.

Barely having given you time to adjust, Severus began to thrust into you at a brutal pace. His hips slapped against your ass, the skin actually starting to sting with the force of his thrusts. He had never fucked you so feverishly, so desperately, like a man who was clinging every part inside him urging him to claim. As if your flirting with Lupin really was an act of slipping away from him, and this was his remedy.

Lewd moans flew from your mouth, whining, desperate sounds. Babbling curses, his name, repeated half stuttered words you knew he liked to hear. A chorus of whimpers ringing out across the luckily, silenced room.

Severus left hand weaved itself through your hair, grabbing it at the base and roughly yanking your head back. Only then did you feel the drool slipping down your chin and realised how absolutely lost you were.

His speed steady, he kept a firm grip on your waist, leaning in to hiss in your ear: "Fucking pathetic. Getting fucked on the floor like a whore." He delivered a hard slap to your ass, causing your body to jerk back against him. "And you like it. Don't you, dirty girl?"

The "yes" that came from your mouth was ragged and broken, a mix of a whimper and a cry that struggled to make its way past your quivering lips.

His hand shifted from your hair to your chin, gripping it tightly, pulling you back higher as he continued to pound into you.

"I said." Thrust.

"You like it." Thrust.

"Don't you?" Thrust.

Your nails desperately scratched at the floor, seeking something to cling onto. The combination of his words, his pace, his dominance... Everything you liked, desired, all at once.. It was going to send you over the edge shamelessly quick if you didn't get it together.

"Ugh yes!" You sobbed. "L-love it..."

The hand gripping your chin offered a light, gentle slap before his fingers forced themselves into your mouth.

"Suck." He ordered, continuing his rough pace.

You obeyed, eyes closing as you tried to focus on sucking his fingers despite the growing heat in your abdomen as he continued to hit your G spot.

You could tell by his ragged breaths, the way his grunts were becoming more frequent, a little louder, that he was approaching his climax as well. He moved, like he needed it. Like he'd die without it.

Severus bit down hard on your neck, with his fingers still in your mouth, hand still gripping your waist as he moved.

The cry that came from you was muffled with his fingers, which began to thrust, fucking your mouth in time with his thrusts.

"You think I want you strutting around this castle acting like a greedy slut?" He delivered a hard slap on your ass. "Like I can't control you? Like my cock isn't enough for you?"

You whimpered around his fingers, shaking your head, eyes shut in pleasure as your legs began to shake.

"Walking around like I don't own this fucking pussy?" He hissed. "Like I don't fill it up with my cum every night?"

You whined at his lewd remarks. Never had you heard Severus speak so crudely or curse so much. You'd discussed it, sure, expressed your interest in it. It wasn't a foreign, and certainly not an unwanted concept... But it had never... Been as intense as this.

The way he slammed into you, fucking you on the floor as he nearly hissed into your ear, hands clawing at every part of your body. You could tell he was trying his best to fuck some sense into you, while also convincing himself that you were his.

And certainly, you wanted him to know.

When his fingers withdrew from your mouth to wrap themselves tightly around your neck, you let out a loud moan.

"Y-yours.. I'm.. I'm sorry.."

He growled, spanked you again. "Are you, now? Sorry for making my shit day worse or being a pathetic slut?"

You cried out, the sound muffled by the squeeze of his fingers around your throat. "B-both.. Sorry.. Sev.. S-sorry.." You said shakily.

Severus bit down on your ear, his lips moving down your jaw, your neck, leaving harsh, stinging bites on the skin there.

He began to grunt, his black hair fell on your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck, holding you up against his chest while he fucked you roughly.

His breath hot and rapid, you could feel the faltering of his hips, the hitching of his breaths. He was close.

"You don't even deserve to come" He practically growled against your neck as he delivered yet another harsh slap to your ass.

Now this was an outcome you hand't considered. You had teased him at dinner, with a goal in mind. But being denied your orgasm? When it was so strongly building inside you?

"Please." You whimpered, "Pl-please.."

Another stinging bite on your neck. "You don't deserve it."

Your legs threatened to give out underneath you with the sheer force of how much your body had begun to shake.

Your heart nearly dropped as the possibility that he really would deny you your orgasm grew more likely. Desperation clogged your mind, shown through quick, harsh pants and whines that flew from your quivering lips.

"Please." You nearly cried. "I'm sorry.. I-"

Your apology was cut short by your desperate whine as he hips completely stilled. For what seemed like the first time in years, he was now completely still inside you, panting against your neck.

This was it. You thought. He won't let me. He-

Severus's fingers loosened their grip on your throat, that hand moving now to completely cover your mouth, muffling your surprised moan. He lifted his head from your neck, murmering in a low firm voice in your ear: "You'll come. But only because I need to that slut pussy clench as you milk me dry. You understand?"

Your stomach fluttered as you nodded quickly.

His large hand remained firm on your mouth as he began to slam into you again, somehow even harsher, faster, than before. You cried out against his palm, moaning shamelessly as tears of pleasure and pain began to prick your eyes.

Your legs shaking rapidly, you were practically limp in his arms as he held you up and panted against your ear.

"Mine." He growled.

"Mine." Thrust.

"To use." Thrust.

"To fuck." Thrust.

"To fill." Thrust.

Now completely shaking, you could feel the knot in your stomach coiling tighter, beginning to clench around him as he fucked you brutally.

Severus released his hand from your mouth, the room instantly filling up with the sound of your cries.

He yanked your hair back again.

"Look... at... me..." He panted, and you obeyed.

In his eyes you saw the pure, released lust and possession swimming within them. The furrow of his brow, the slight gleam of sweat, his parted lips...

It was enough to send you over the edge, You came, hard. The tsunami wave of pleasure wracking itself over your body. You nearly screamed his name, a breathless, torn sound as you convulsed in his arms

Something shifted, changed in those eyes before he closed them, burying his face into the grove of your neck.

"i... love... you.." He whispered, so low you could barely even hear it, barely even able to focus on it as your orgasm wracked your body.

With the clenching of your walls around him, his hips stuttered as he came. A near whimper was muffled by the marked up flesh of your neck as he thrust his hips into you a final time, coating your insides in his release.

For a moment, all the two of you could do was pant. He continued to hold you up against his chest for several moments until both your breathing had slowly gone back to normal.

Once he had regained some control, Severus picked you up, sitting down on the chair at his desk with you in his lap. With your head nuzzled into his chest, you allowed your lungs to fill with the familiar scent of his robes.

The same fingers that had penetrated and grasped at you moments ago tangeled gently in your hair, coaxing out the knots that had formed as he brushed it away from your face.

As your eyelids fluttered open, you saw him looking down at you, a soft, almost invisible smile on his lips, his black eyes gentle once more.

"Was that alright, my love?" He murmered as his fingers moved down to trace over the marks he had left on your neck and collarbone.

Nodding, you let out a soft hum.

"Did I hurt you, was I to-"

You cut him off before his fear of actually hurting you could weave its way into his mind any further.

"Perfect." You whispered, weakly. "You were perfect."

His brow relaxed slightly at this. The corner of his lip twitching up in a small, half smile as he gazed down at you in his arms. With a soft hum, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Come," He said, picking you up, "Lets get you cleaned up."

-

this was the filthiest thing i've ever written. wowzers.

hope it was decent.

cheerio

xx

taglist:

@graciesbow @niftysnazzy @plecosylvia @dark-st  @3hrysfiction-blog @ilovegrapes-world @darkvoidz @lexiitaylorrrr @theheartwants-what-itwants

this is my first time using a taglist, which will be used for all my fics (smut and not) so you must be 18+ to join. i mean my blog clearly states minors do not interact. if you want to join, shoot me message or comment on my post where i ask if anyone wants to join. if you want to be removed, message me as well xo

[missriddle03]

Title: Can't sleep without you

Parings: Matt sturniolo x reader

Small synopsis: You and Matt have an argument and Matt can't go to sleep without talking to you about it

Time to read: just over 3mins roughly

Word count: 582 words

Warnings: none rrly but angst and slight fluff

Song recommendation: My love mine all mine-Mitski

The silence was deafening even with the tv playing in your room but you weren’t paying attention to the show that was playing. Your hands were placed on your knees feeling some sort of comfort. Matt’s words replaying over and over in your mind with the same tone and the same angered expression.

“You’re suffocating me! I'm your boyfriend not someone you need to protect all the goddamn time”

It was a simple miscommunication that turned into a full blown argument and no matter what you or Matt said to diffuse the situation it made things 10x worse. Now Matt was sitting in his room, whilst his brothers were asleep, as his guilt wrapped around him..strangling his thoughts with how your face looked.

What you didn’t realise was that Matt couldn’t take the guilt so he left his room and got into his car and started driving to your place.

It wasn’t normal to have arguments like this, maybe an occasional row but nothing that would make both of you feel broken inside. You looked at your phone wanting to text Matt but you didn’t want to seem clingy, the tv was still playing so you ended up turning it off and laying your head onto your pillow wanting to fall asleep. Just as soon as you were slowly getting to sleep a knock was heard on your door. Hesitating, you eventually got up and opened the door.

“Matt, what-what are you doing here?” you asked him, however you couldn’t deny you were glad to see him. His hair was ruffled and he wore a white t-shirt under his jacket. Matt placed his hands in his jogger pockets.

“Can I come in?”

You nodded and let him in, Matt sat on your sofa. Silence took over as the awkwardness became more apparent. “I’m sorry,” was all he said but his voice had a bit of a deepness to it. You noticed his leg was slightly bouncing up and down.

“No, it’s okay. We both said things but you were right..I was being too protective of you and I’m sorry for that” you admitted but he shook his head immediately. He wanted to get up and hug you but instead he sat down next to you and that was all.

“Don’t say that..listen, sweetheart I love it when you’re protective of me it shows how much you care. It's just sometimes I can’t understand how I got so lucky, I’m just not used to it” He placed his hand on your knee. You let out a sigh unsure of what to say.

“You mean so much to me, I never wanted to make you upset. Can I hug you?” He asked you. Your eyes look up into his and nod your head, Matt smiles and wraps his arms around your waist: resting his head on yours. “I love you so much, Matt” you finally say.

Hearing your voice made him feel content and that was all he wanted. “I love you too sweetheart”

You placed your hand into his as he placed a kiss on your head. A slight yawn escaped Matt’s lips and an idea popped into your head. “It’s getting late and you’re tired. Maybe you should stay the night..only if you want to” you suggested.

“I would like that very much,” you guided him to your room and put your tv on while falling asleep next to him and the relief of understanding washed over you.

AHHH my first Matt Sturniolo fanfic done!! let me know if you want more! also this is my masterlist if you're curious as to what i write <3

[sweets-library]

Far Far Away

Shouta Aizawa/reader. Hizashi Yamada & Reader hurt/comfort. wc: 6.2k.

READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. DO NOT READ THIS IF THEY DO NOT APPEAL TO YOU. 18+ content warnings: Time outs, light punishments, use of daddy as a title, themes of discipline and D/S dynamics, a lot of caregiving in general

a/n: ok i dont wanna give too much away in the content warnings but yall know what i mean when i say discipline and d/s dynamics. no spanking this time tho! everyone clap for y/n Ao3

-

“Hi, baby. How are you?”

His voice came through steady and low and it immediately made you feel a little more grounded. You closed your eyes, gripping the phone tighter, as if that would bring him closer.

“Hi, Daddy,” you murmured, softer than you meant to.

A brief pause. Not hesitation, but recognition. Shouta had always been good at reading you, even when you barely said a word.

“…Sweetheart,” he said carefully, “are you doing alright?”

You bit your lip. Of course, he knew. He always knew. Normally, you would fumble your way into a call like this, a little shy, a little unsure before you were able to call him that special title. But not tonight. Tonight, everything felt raw, like a wound you couldn’t bandage fast enough.

“Um… I’m okay. I miss you.”

The lie hung in the air, heavy and brittle. He let it sit for a moment, giving you space to backtrack, to admit the truth. When you didn’t, he pressed gently.

“I miss you too, baby. Have you been taking care of yourself? Did you eat dinner?”

The tenderness in his voice was too much. Your throat tightened, and you looked down, ashamed, even though he wasn’t there to see it.

“Yeah. I mean… not really. I...”

Your words caught, tangled in a mess of guilt and fatigue. Shouta stayed quiet, waiting. He always waited, never rushing you, no matter how long it took.

“I… I messed up,” you finally whispered, the words cracking as they escaped. “I keep messing up. It’s like when you’re gone, I just… I fall apart. I can’t do what I’m supposed to do. I’m so fucking useless. It’s pathetic, and I just-”

“Hey. Stop,” he interrupted, firm but not unkind. “You know better than to talk about yourself like that.”

The sharpness in his tone cut through your spiralling thoughts, snapping you back to the moment. You took a shaky breath, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “You’re going to be mad, and I deserve it. I’ve been so awful, and I-”

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice softening just enough to break through your panic, “I need you to listen to me, okay? I’m not mad. I’m not going to be mad. But I need you to tell me what’s going on so I can help. Start from the beginning. Take your time.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and inhaled deeply, the way he’d taught you before.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Work’s been crazy. Overtime, deadlines, and then I come home, and I just… I can’t turn it off. I keep working, or I just stare at my computer feeling guilty that it's not getting done.”

Shouta hummed quietly, encouraging you to continue.

“And I haven’t been eating right,” you added, the words spilling out in a rush. “I’m so tired I can’t cook, so I just order takeout, or I skip meals. And then I feel guilty because I’m spending too much money, and I know you wouldn't let me do this, and it’s just this cycle I can’t get out of.”

Your breath hitched, and you clenched your free hand into a fist, nails biting into your palm.

“And my chore chart,” you said, your voice breaking. “I stopped filling it out. I couldn’t keep up, and every time I looked at it, I just… I felt so useless. Like I can’t even do the basics.”

Silence. Not the cold kind, never with him, but the kind that felt like an open hand, waiting.

“Are you done?” he asked gently, after a moment.

You hesitated, then nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he said. “First things first: I need you to breathe for me again. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

You obeyed, drawing in a long, shaky breath and letting it out slowly.

“Good,” he said, his tone softening even more. “Now listen to me. You’re not useless, and you’re not lazy. You’re overwhelmed. You’re tired. And you’re human. That’s all.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he interrupted firmly. “You’re doing the best you can, and that’s enough for me. Always.”

The tears came harder then, the weight of his words breaking through the fragile dam you’d built around yourself.

“Sweetheart,” he continued, his voice steady and calm, “where are you right now?”

“In the living room,” you sniffled, wiping at your face.

“Good. I want you to stay there, okay? I’m going to call someone to check in on you, just to make sure you’re alright.”

“No, you don’t have to-”

“I do,” he said, cutting you off gently. “Because I care about you. And because I’m not there to do it myself, as much as I want to be.”

The thought of him worrying about you, of him arranging for someone to come over, made your chest tighten, but not in a bad way. For the first time in days, you felt like you weren’t drowning.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Good girl,” he said softly, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re going to get through this together. You’re not alone, no matter how far apart we are. Remember that.”

You breathed steadily, the sound of Shouta’s calm voice blending with the faint tapping on his end as he made the call. Reinforcements, you thought bitterly. Because you couldn’t handle yourself. The shame curled tightly in your chest, a weight pressing down. How ridiculous it was that he couldn’t even leave you alone without things falling apart. You swallowed hard, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts.

“Alright, kid,” Shouta said, breaking the silence. His tone was gentle but authoritative. “Hizashi’s finishing his show in about an hour. He’s going to come straight to you after. That gives us some time to talk, okay? Does that sound good?”

His steady control over the situation soothed you, unravelling the frayed edges of your nerves. This was why you needed him. With Shouta, you could let go, surrendering the reins that felt so heavy in your own hands.

“Yes, please, Daddy,” you mumbled, the words almost a whisper.

“Good. Put me on speaker and head to the bedroom,” he instructed. “Change into your pajamas.”

You obeyed without hesitation, the simplicity of his commands grounding you in a way your chaotic thoughts couldn’t. Shouta’s voice followed you as you moved, steady and guiding.

“Now brush your teeth,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “Take your time.”

You followed his instructions, the familiar rhythm of your nightly routine slowly easing the tension from your shoulders. Step by step, he walked you through it: brushing your teeth, washing your face, doing your hair. Each small task felt like a lifeline, pulling you out of the spiral you’d been trapped in.

By the time you sat at the kitchen table with a glass of water in front of you, your breathing had evened out.

“Alright,” Shouta said, his voice calm but purposeful. “Let’s talk about the chore chart.”

You sighed, the mention of it making your stomach twist. 'Chore chart' wasn’t quite the right name for it. It was more like a self-care guide, a list of small tasks meant to help you stay on track when Shouta wasn’t around. Taking pictures of your meals to send him, jotting down one thing you were proud of in your journal, tidying up small areas of the house, it was supposed to help. And it had, for a while.

But lately, it had felt like a mountain you couldn’t climb, a constant reminder of how far you were falling behind.

“Do you think it’s still helping you?” Shouta asked, his tone free of judgment. “Or is it starting to feel like too much? The point is for it to support you, not to add stress. If it’s not working anymore, we can scrap it.”

“No!” you blurted, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you. “No, I like it. I do. I just…” Your voice faltered, and you took a sip of water to steady yourself.

“I got so busy,” you continued, “that I kept missing things. And once I got behind, it just… it felt awful. Writing down ‘forgot’ or ‘failed’ on every square, like I was disappointing you. Like you’d come home and see how bad I was doing.”

Shouta was quiet for a moment, the weight of his presence palpable even through the phone.

“Sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm. “The chart isn’t a report card. It’s not there for me to judge you. It’s there to help you stay balanced, to remind you to take care of yourself. Missing things doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you human.”

You bit your lip, the tears threatening to return. “But it feels like I let you down.”

“You could never let me down,” he said simply. “You’re doing your best, and that’s all I ever ask of you. If the chart isn’t working right now, we’ll figure out something else. Together.”

The knot in your chest loosened, just a little. Shouta’s calm reassurances felt like a balm, soothing the ache of your self-doubt.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Good girl,” he said softly, his tone warm and steady, grounding you. “We’re going to take this one step at a time. I’m here for you, even when I’m not physically there. You’re not alone in this, understand?”

You nodded, wiping at your eyes, though the lump in your throat still lingered. “I understand.”

“Good. For starters, I want you to leave the chart as it is until I get back. We’ll rework it together to better suit what you need right now,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “Instead, I’d like you to text my personal phone throughout the day, the one I left at the agency. It's turned off and locked up so nobody will see it till I get back. Just send little updates about how you’re feeling and what you’ve been doing. That way, I can read them when I’m home, and we can go over what felt good or bad. It won’t be staring at you from the kitchen wall, and it won’t feel like a looming reminder. Does that sound easier for now?”

You paused, considering his words. It did feel easier, less like a record of your failures and more like a conversation. Something about the idea of texting him felt gentler, more forgiving. At least then, you wouldn’t have to see the evidence of your perceived shortcomings every time you passed through the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I think that’s better.”

“Alright,” Shouta said. There was approval in his tone, but it wasn’t smug or self-satisfied. It was simply… kind. Encouraging. “Now, I need you to listen to me carefully. You don’t have to agree to this. In fact, I don’t want you to if you’re not completely sure it will be good for you.”

“Okay,” you replied, your voice tinged with nervous curiosity.

“Do you want to agree on some punishments for this past week?” His tone remained steady, but there was a thread of hesitation, as if he was carefully weighing each word before saying it. “If you want to wipe the slate clean until I get back, that’s perfectly fine. In fact, I’d encourage it. But if you think it would help you feel less guilty and more grounded I’m willing to discuss it.”

Your breath hitched at his offer. A part of you had hoped for this, even though you hadn’t dared to bring it up.

“Yes,” you said quickly, your voice trembling with both relief and desperation. “Yes, please. I’m so sorry, and I want- I need to fix it. I need to feel like I’ve made up for everything I did wrong.”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to make you wonder if you’d said too much. But when Shouta spoke again, his voice was as steady and calming as ever.

“Alright,” he said gently, though there was still a hint of caution in his tone. “If this is what you feel will help, we can talk about it. But you need to understand something first. This isn’t about punishing you for being human or for struggling. It’s about finding a way to help you let go of the guilt. If, at any point, it feels like too much, or if you change your mind, you tell me immediately. Understood?”

You nodded again, the weight in your chest easing just a little. “Understood.”

The discussion took up most of the time you had left, your voice trembling as you pushed for punishments that were harsher than you deserved. But Shouta, calm and steady as always, gently shut you down each time.

“No, sweetheart,” he said firmly when you suggested scrubbing the floors by hand. “Thats not going to solve anything. You’re not trying to wear yourself down or punish yourself into being better. You’re learning to take care of yourself. This isn’t about exhaustion; it’s about growth.”

His words carried the weight of authority, but there was no harshness in them. Still, each rejection left you feeling raw, vulnerable, until finally, with his guidance, you both settled on a plan.

“Alright,” Shouta said, his tone resolute but kind. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

You were to write 10 lines of positive affirmations in your journal every night till he’s home, a task designed to combat the negative thoughts you’d been drowning in. “And I mean real affirmations,” he clarified, his voice stern but compassionate. “No half-hearted ‘I guess I’m okay.’ I want to see sentences like, ‘I’m strong,’ ‘I’m capable,’ ‘I’m doing my best.’ Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmured, the weight of his expectations settling on your shoulders.

“Good,” he said. “You’re also going to log off your work computer by six pm. No exceptions. And no screens at all after eight. That includes your phone. I’ll still call you at 8:30 but that is the only time it should be in your hand”

Your usual bedtime of a lenient 11 was now a firm 9:30. Shouta had been clear: this wasn’t a punishment so much as a safeguard, a way to ensure you were getting the rest you so clearly needed.

Finally, he brought up the hardest part.

“And I’m going to have Hizashi check in on you over the phone in the afternoons,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “He’ll make sure you’re staying on track and looking after yourself. It’s not negotiable.”

You swallowed hard, guilt bubbling up at the thought of imposing on Hizashi. “I don’t want to bother him…”

“You’re not bothering him,” Shouta interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “He cares about you too, and he’s happy to help. You need to let people support you, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard, Hizashi can be a loudmouth, but he's patient, and he's good at picking people up. I trust him with my life and yours baby, do you?”

You nodded reluctantly, the logic in his words undeniable.

“And tonight,” Shouta continued, his voice softening just a fraction, “you’re going to take a 15-minute timeout in the corner while Hizashi’s there.”

The suggestion hit like a blow, your stomach twisting with embarrassment. “What?”

“This isn’t about shame,” he explained gently, anticipating your reaction. “It’s about reflection. I want you to think about how you’ve been treating yourself this week. Think about the fact that you could have asked Hizashi—or any of your friends—for help instead of letting things spiral. You’re not a burden, and it’s important you start believing that.”

“But why does he have to be there?” you asked hesitantly, your voice small.

“Because I want you to have someone there to bring you back down to earth if you start feeling overwhelmed,” Shouta said simply. “I’m trusting Hizashi to make sure this exercise is constructive, not self-flagellating. And, if you’re feeling brave enough, maybe you can talk to him about how you’ve been feeling. I know the guy talks a lot, but he can be good at listening too, if you let him.”

The knot in your throat tightened, but you nodded again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

“You’re stronger than you think, kid,” Shouta said, his tone softening even further. “None of this because I’m angry. I’m doing it because I care about you, and I know you can get through this. One step at a time, remember?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill again. “One step at a time.”

Then a soft chime interrupted the moment, and Shouta sighed, his tone shifting to one of reluctant responsibility. “Honey, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. Duty calls.” His voice softened as he continued, “I’ll call Hizashi and fill him in on what we decided, okay? He’ll be there soon.”

The hour had flown by, leaving you wishing for just a little more time. The lump in your throat was hard to ignore, but you swallowed it down, trying to sound steady.

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I love you, Sho. I miss you so much.”

The line was quiet for a beat, and then he sighed deeply, his voice rich with warmth. “Sweet girl, I love you so, so much. You hear me? More than anything. And I am always proud of you. I’ll be home before we know it, baby. Just hold on for me a little longer.”

His reassurance wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing the ache in your chest.

“Hizashi will be there in about 20 minutes,” he continued, his tone regaining its usual calm authority. “Go ahead and start on your lines while you wait for him. You’ll feel better once you’ve written a few. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, baby. Same time, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite the heaviness in your heart.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

And then, with a quiet click, the call ended, leaving you staring at the phone, the room suddenly feeling quieter and colder without his voice.

You took a deep breath, glancing at the journal on the table. Even though he wasn’t there, his presence lingered in every word he’d said, steadying you. With a small nod to yourself, you picked up your pen and opened the journal, ready to take the first step forward.

Writing lines is hard. The pen feels heavy in your hand as you try to think of nice things to say about yourself. The first few are simple—things Shouta would remind you of, like “I work hard” or “I care about others.” But as the list grows, so does the weight in your chest, and by the time you’ve scratched out seven, you’re staring at the page like it’s mocking you.

The knock at the door jolts you out of your thoughts. Your stomach flips with dread, and you take a moment to steel yourself. Mortification burns hot in your chest at the thought of what’s coming next, but you can’t exactly keep Hizashi waiting.

You open the door, and before you can say a single word, the blonde sweeps you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight, warm hug.

“Baaaaby!” he exclaims, his voice bursting with its usual vibrancy. “Why didn’t you call me? Here I am, missing out on hanging with my favorite listener, and she’s sitting here all down in the dumps? That’s just cruel!”

Despite the dramatic delivery, the embrace is exactly what you need. The tension in your shoulders melts away as you lean into him without realizing it, letting yourself feel the comfort he radiates so effortlessly.

When he finally pulls back, his hands come up to cup your cheeks, squishing them gently until your lips puff out. His bright, expressive eyes scan your face, and while his pout is exaggerated, his concern feels genuine.

“Look at this face,” he says, shaking his head like he’s utterly scandalized. “How could you think for even a second that I’d be too busy for you?”

“Hi, Hizashi,” you mumble, still feeling small but lighter now, the edges of your lips twitching into a shy smile. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve got a lot going on…”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with mock indignation, sending his long braid swaying behind him. His glasses sit slightly askew from the dramatic hug, but he doesn’t seem to care as he flashes you a grin.

“Never too busy for you, babycakes,” he says firmly, his voice softening as he rubs your shoulders gently. “Now, come on. Let’s go sit down and get comfy. Sho filled me in, so we’ve got a plan to tackle this together, okay?”

You nod, the knot in your chest loosening a little more as he ushers you toward the couch. Hizashi’s presence is like a burst of sunshine in your quiet storm- bright, warm, and just distracting enough to make the heaviness feel less suffocating.

As he passes through the kitchen, Hizashi’s sharp eyes catch sight of your journal lying open on the table. With his usual flair, he sweeps it up dramatically, reading your lines so far with a  gasp that’s clearly over the top.

“Heyyy, baby! Look at you, crushing it already! These are solid gold affirmations,” he says, giving you an encouraging grin. “I’ve got a few ideas to spice up this list, though. I mean, ‘I care about others’ is cute and all, but how about ‘I’ve got a killer sense of humor’ or ‘I light up any room I walk into?’”

You can’t help but laugh at his delivery, a perfect mix of genuine pride and playful bravado. He carefully sets the journal back down, tapping it lightly with his finger. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you finish these before bed. Just, uh, let’s keep it between us. Can’t have that strict old man knowing I cheated and gave you an edge, right?”

You smile back, but you know he’s full of it. You remember the time, not long after he’d learned about yours and Shouta’s dynamic, when he joked about you writing your lines in both English and Japanese. You didn’t even think Shouta cared if you made spelling mistakes, he just wanted you to work through it.

Still smiling, you follow him into the living room. Hizashi plops down onto the middle cushion of the couch with all the grace of a collapsing star. His long limbs sprawl out in every direction, and he rests his hands lazily on his knees, eyes glinting up at you mischievously.

“Alright, honey,” he says, his tone suddenly mock-serious. “Any last words before I throw you in the slammer?”

At first, the playful edge to his voice makes you want to giggle, but then the weight of his words sinks in. Your face flushes crimson, and the reality of the situation hits you; he’s actually the one overseeing this. You hadn’t realized that Shouta had implied Hizashi would be the one in charge of your time out. You thought he’d just be there for support, to keep you grounded and make sure you didn’t break down. Now, though? The idea of sitting in the corner under Hizashi’s watch feels like a whole new level of mortification.

You fidget with the hem of your shirt, your voice barely a whisper. “I, um… I didn’t think you’d actually…”

Hizashi tilts his head, his grin softening into something more understanding.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says gently, his voice laced with compassion. “You know this isn’t about me being strict or scary, right? It’s about taking a breather and giving yourself space to think. Shouta just wanted me here to make sure you’re okay and give you a hand, not to intimidate you or anything like that.”

His words ease the knot in your chest, and the tension in your shoulders melts away a little. Still, the thought of sitting in the corner, thinking things through under Hizashi’s watch, makes your face burn.

“Come on, babycakes,” he teases gently, taking your hands in his. “We’ll make this quick and painless. You do your time-out, I’ll brainstorm some killer affirmations for you, and then maybe we can watch a little something before bed. Sound like a deal?”

The room feels both too quiet and too loud, the hum of the air conditioning amplified in your ears as you fidget with the hem of your shirt. The embarrassment sits heavy in your chest, curling around your thoughts like smoke, but Hizashi’s easy grin cuts through it like sunlight breaking through clouds. His lighthearted nature softens the edges of your discomfort, even as the flush on your cheeks refuses to fade.

“Good,” he says with a playful wink, his voice warm and teasing. “Now let’s get this show on the road. Tell me, what are you gonna think about in your time-out?”

The question catches you off guard. You bite your lip and drop your gaze to your hands, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap. Shouta’s methods were always straightforward. He’d tell you exactly what to think about, have you repeat it back, and that was that. Being asked to decide for yourself feels unfamiliar, like stepping onto uneven ground.

“Um…” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “I’m gonna think about… how I should have called you?” The answer feels small, tentative, and your voice barely rises above a whisper.

Hizashi hums thoughtfully, tilting his head as if considering your response. “Hm, close! But not quite,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. His hands rest on his knees, his posture open and unthreatening, but his bright eyes hold a certain focus that tells you he’s taking this seriously. “I don’t want you to get stuck thinking about what went wrong. I want you to focus on what you can do better next time. Think constructive, baby. What’s a way you could handle things differently when you’re feeling low? What else can you come up with?”

The pressure to answer makes your heart race, and you glance around the room as if the walls might offer you an answer. The warmth of the living room, the cozy throw blanket draped over the couch, the faint smell of coffee lingering from earlier, feels at odds with the knot tightening in your stomach. You take a shaky breath, trying to focus.

“I could… think about ways I could’ve reached out sooner?” you say finally, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Hizashi’s face lights up with approval, and he leans forward slightly, his enthusiasm infectious. “That’s a good one, baby,” he says, his voice softening. “You’re getting there. And listen, you’re not alone in this, okay? I need you to really hear me on this; people love you. I love you. We’re here to help you out, no matter what, day or night.”

The sincerity in his voice is like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your self-doubt. You swallow hard, his words settling deep in your chest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. Even as your thoughts swirl with guilt and hesitation, his presence feels steady, like an anchor keeping you from drifting too far.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling but resolute. You nod slowly, meeting his gaze for the first time since this started. “I’ll try.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, his smile soft and full of pride. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders feels just a little lighter.

Hizashi ruffles your hair with a fond smile before turning you gently by the shoulders, his hands warm and steady. “Alright, sweetheart,” he says softly, his voice both reassuring and firm. “Go think it over, and I’ll be right here when you’re ready. We’ll figure this out together.”

Your steps are slow as you move toward the corner of the living room, the weight of the moment settling over you like a heavy blanket. The familiar position feels strangely different with Hizashi there, the shift in dynamic making your heart race. Memories surface- Hizashi dropping something off at the apartment once while you were mid-time out, his gaze carefully avoiding you. Back then, he’d respected the unspoken boundary, probably at Shouta’s request, and you’d been grateful for the quiet discretion.

But this? This is different. This isn’t him passing through or pretending not to notice. He’s here, fully present, guiding you through this moment. You’d already come to terms with him knowing about your relationship with Shouta; it had been discussed openly, with your consent, and you trusted him completely. Still, the vulnerability of having him step into this role, even temporarily, makes your cheeks burn. Yet beneath the embarrassment, there’s a surprising sense of security.

You stop at the corner, place your hands behind your back, and lean forward until your nose gently touches the wall. The routine feels grounding, the familiarity of it giving you a strange kind of comfort. You take a deep breath, letting the quiet settle over you, broken only by the faint rustle of Hizashi shifting on the couch.

“Alright, perfect!” Hizashi’s voice breaks the silence, his tone playful but underscored with a steady firmness. “Keep that cute little nose right there until the timer goes off. If you need to back out, just say your safeword, okay? But other than that, no talking. Don’t interrupt me while I’m projecting good thoughts into that head of yours.”

A small, involuntary laugh escapes you, and you quickly bite your lip to stifle it. His energy is so different from Shouta’s, lighter, more playful, but no less earnest. You know he means every word, even if his delivery makes you want to smile. There’s a distinct sense of safety in the way he handles this moment, balancing humor with care, structure with warmth.

The initial embarrassment fades slightly as you focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing. Hizashi’s presence behind you, calm and unyielding, is a reminder that this isn’t really punishment. It’s a pause, a chance to reflect and reset. You trust him, just as you trust Shouta, and that trust anchors you now. Even in the quiet vulnerability of the corner, you know you’re not alone.

As you stand there, nose to the corner, your thoughts churn restlessly despite your efforts to calm them. Hizashi’s words echo faintly in your mind—focus on what you can do better next time. But it’s hard. The guilt gnaws at you, dragging your focus back to everything you feel you’ve done wrong. Why didn’t I reach out sooner? Why do I always let it get this bad?

You shift slightly, your shoulders tense as you try to redirect your thoughts. Hizashi wouldn’t want you stuck in this loop. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and force your mind to pivot. Okay, maybe next time, I’ll text someone right away. Even if I feel stupid, I could at least try. But the moment you think it, the doubt creeps in. What if I’m just a burden? What if I bother them at the wrong time?

Frustration bubbles up, and you clench your hands at your sides, determined not to let the negativity win. Hizashi’s voice comes back to you, bright and steady: “People love you. I love you. We’re here to help you out, no matter what.” The words feel distant but steady, like a rope to grab onto in the storm. You latch onto them, even if they don’t fully sink in yet.

What if next time I… I write it out first? Maybe I could figure out what I’m feeling before it gets overwhelming. Or maybe I could reach out to someone before I even get to that point. The ideas are shaky and uncertain, but they’re something. You try to focus on them, repeating them in your head like a mantra, holding onto the hope that you can do better.

Gradually, your body starts to relax. The ache in your chest softens, replaced by a tentative clarity. The week’s weight—the guilt, the fear, the constant tightrope of holding yourself together—begins to loosen its grip. You realize, with a startling pang, how much easier this could’ve been if you’d let someone in earlier. It’s not a new revelation, but standing here, forced to confront it, the truth hits a little deeper.

The pearl of anxiety over Shouta’s safety still lingers, sitting in the back of your mind. It’s quieter now, though, like the volume has been turned down. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe around it again.

The sharp buzz of the timer jolts you, and you jump slightly, startled. You blink, disoriented, realizing how much time has passed. Your legs feel a little stiff, and you shift on your feet, grounding yourself. To your surprise, your eyes are dry. Normally, time outs leave you a mess of tears and raw emotion, but you’ve already had that release earlier with Shouta. Now, you feel steadier, like you’ve taken a step forward, however small.

You don’t move right away, waiting for Hizashi. You know he’d want you to wait for his cue, and besides, a part of you needs the moment to process. His voice cuts through the quiet, warm and familiar.

“Aw, good girl, com'ere,” he calls, his tone full of affection.

You turn, and the sight of him with his arms open wide melts the last bit of tension in you. You shuffle toward him, letting him pull you into a tight, comforting hug. For a few moments, you just exist in the embrace, soaking up the warmth and care radiating from him. It anchors you, grounding you in a way that words can’t.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m proud of you.”

And for the first time in a long while, you start to feel proud of yourself too.

But then, the yawn that had been threatening to break free finally caught up with you, forcing your jaw open in an exaggerated stretch. The sound was loud in the quiet room, your exhaustion betraying you.

“Someone’s running on fumes,” Hizashi teased, his voice laced with amusement as he tilted his head. “Alright, superstar. Let’s knock out those lines, and then I’ll tuck you in so you can get the rest you need. Capiche?”

His lighthearted tone made you giggle, and with it came a sense of relief. That suffocating weight you’d been carrying for days felt a little lighter now, a little easier to manage. Even though your body still sagged with fatigue, your chest felt clearer, like you could finally take a full breath.

Hizashi’s grin softened as he reached out to gently cup your cheeks, giving them a playful squeeze. His touch was warm and grounding, somehow managed to settle your racing thoughts even further. It wasn’t just the contact, but the way he made you feel seen and cared for in such a simple gesture.

Without needing to say more, he guided you back to the table where your unfinished lines waited. You picked up the pen, but something had shifted. The task didn’t feel like a burden anymore. It felt manageable, almost comforting in its simplicity. Hizashi didn’t hover or rush you. He sat nearby, close enough that his presence kept you steady but far enough that you had the space to focus.

As you wrote, a realization began to settle in your chest. For the first time since Shouta had left, you felt okay. Not just okay even, but good. It wasn’t just about getting through the task; it was the knowledge that you didn’t have to do it alone. Hizashi had stepped in, seamlessly filling the gap, offering support without making you feel like a burden. His guidance wasn’t overbearing; it was steady, gentle, exactly what you needed.

You felt like you could handle things on your own now if you had to, but more importantly, you didn’t have to. That distinction was a quiet but powerful comfort. Someone had your back, even in Shouta’s absence.

As you finished the last line, you let out a small sigh, the words on the page feeling like a tangible victory. Hizashi gave a little cheer, clapping his hands softly in celebration.

“See? Told you you’d knock it out of the park,” he said, beaming at you.

You couldn’t help but smile back, your heart warming at his unshakeable enthusiasm. Hizashi was truly an amazing man, bright, compassionate, and endlessly understanding. You thought about how much he’d helped tonight, how he’d given you exactly what you needed without you even having to explain. Those thoughts swirled in your mind, filling you with gratitude and a quiet sense of awe. You knew you’d talk to Shouta about it when he got home, but for now, it wasn’t necessary.

For now, all you needed was to let yourself rest. The warmth of Hizashi’s presence was enough, his steady support wrapping around you like a blanket. You set the pen down, leaning back with a soft yawn as Hizashi moved to your side, ready to guide you to bed.

“Alright, let’s get you snuggled up,” he said softly, his teasing edge replaced with a gentler tone.

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into that care without hesitation, letting the weight of the world slip away as you breathed in the quiet comfort of knowing you were never truly alone.

[salty-autistic-writer]

Whumptober 2024 Day 20: Permission to die

Title: Like A Prayer (AO3)

Tw: Major Character Death!

1

They are in bed together when they talk about it for the first time. 

Entangled naked limbs shine in the moon light as sweat is drying on their bodies. It’s a summer night and the darkness brings a desperately needed chill.

Evan chews on his lip when Tommy brings the topic up. He shakes his head. “I don’t like to talk about this.” And that means something. Because normally, Evan likes to talk about everything. It’s easy for him to get interested and excited. It’s like there’s a well of words inside him just waiting to burst out and once he starts there seems to be no end. But now, his lips press together into a grim line. His brows furrow. And he falls silent.

“Death is a part of our life, Evan,” Tommy points out gently.

“Still … It’s too painful to even think about it. I don’t want to live without you.”

“I know. And I feel the same. But we will die eventually.”

Evan sighs. “I almost died way too many times. Now, I want to live.”

“And we will. We will live,” Tommy assures, reaching for Evan’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I can’t wait to spend my life with you. But we still should talk about death from time to time.”

Evan buries his face in the crook of Tommy’s neck, almost as if he’s trying to hide. “Alright,” he mutters. “But not right now, okay? Not right now.”

2

Tommy is tired. He is tired of walking through the ever-same hallway. Tired of entering the room. Tired of the silence. Tired of the brightness and the smell.

He looks at his husband. And it’s not really his husband. It’s a shell that looks like him. A ghost. Barely breathing. Machines keep him alive. A mess of tubes and wires.

Tommy sits and sighs, reaching out to take Evan’s cold hand. It doesn't feel real either.

Oh, what Tommy would give for this to be a nightmare. A nightmare from which he will wake up any second. He wants their life back.

But it's not a dream. This is happening.

Evan, his beautiful caring strong Evan, saved someone and when it was time to save himself, it was too late. He fell so deep. He fell deep and when he finally landed, he was broken. The 118 managed to get him out breathing. But he didn't wake up. Not this time. No matter how much they all beg and hope and cry. He doesn't wake up.

Tommy always thought he would go first. A helicopter crash. Most likely. He didn't expect Evan to be the first to fall. But now here they are, with Evan fading in a hospital bed.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Tommy grips Evan's hand. I wish I could pull you back into life.

“Evan,” he says. Like always, it sounds like a prayer on his lips. But it remains unanswered.

3

“Evan …”

“You could have died, Tommy!”

“Yes. I could have. We could die all the time. Every day.”

“Still … You can’t be so careless! I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Don’t do this again!”

“Help save the day?”

“Tommy …”

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. I will be more careful. Come here.”

“I was scared …”

“I know. I’m okay. I’m here.”

4 Beep. Beep. Beep. A tear falls on Evan's hand.

“Evan," Tommy whispers. "It’s okay. I know you always said that if one of us must die, it would be better if it were me. Because I would be a mess without you. And ... and I know you're right. I'm already falling apart. But ... but it's okay. If you have to go, you can. You can let go. I will be alright."

Evan wanted to die doing what he loved. Or of old age. "Together," he said once. "Together would be best, right? That way no one would have to figure out to go on alone ..."

But life seldom gives you what you want.

"It's okay," Tommy repeats, pressing Evan's hand to the side of his face. The ghost of a touch. "I will figure it out. Don't worry about me."

5

“I think I would want to be cremated.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I read too many facts about decomposition.”

“Oh, Evan … I will have to listen to them now, won’t I?”

“Of course.”

6

“Tommy?”

“Yes. I … I just need a moment.”

“Tommy, it’s been almost a whole night. Come on. You have to get some rest.”

“I can’t leave him, Howie.”

“He’s gone, Tommy. I’m sorry. But you can’t stay here forever. You know that. They will take care of him now, okay?”

And Tommy gets it. He really gets it. The hospital sees a room they can use for someone else now. Some other shell. He’s still holding Evan’s hand. He can’t let go. He can’t leave him alone. But then, his eyes wander up to Evan’s face. It’s so still. He’s never been that still. 

And that’s when he truly gets it.

His husband is gone.

A sob echoes in the room. He only realises it came from him when the tears are coming. When Howie hugs him and gently makes him let go of Evan's hand.

7

“A tree.”

“Hm?”

“I want to be buried close to a tree.”

“Why?”

“It feels right. Trees see so much life and death. And I imagine it would be nice to have leaves fall down on my grave. Squirrels sleeping above me. Birds building a nest …”

“Yes. It’s a nice image, Evan.”

“What about you?”

“I just want to be close to you.”

8

Autumn painted the world in yellow and red. The leaves are falling. Tumbling to the ground where they cover older leaves and their colour slowly fades. They make crunching noises under Tommy’s boots as he walks over the graveyard, approaching the tree under which they buried Evan.

It’s a beautiful tree. Big and strong. Old. There are always animals climbing up the trunk or sitting on the branches. Squirrels and martens. Crows and blackbirds. The tree is full of life. Evan would have loved that.

Tommy sits on the blanket he brought. He hugs his knees to his chest and stares at the gravestone. It still hurts so much. A constant ache in his chest. Evan’s voice is haunting his mind. Sometimes, he still wakes up and expects to see Evan’s face - only to remember. 

Grief comes in waves, Bobby told him. They are talking a lot. About Evan. About grief. About the future. It helps.

Tommy is grateful. He’s never really alone. Their family is going through this together.

But sometimes, he has to be alone. Alone with Evan.

He sighs and rubs at his eyes. It’s astonishing how many tears the body can produce. So often Tommy thinks he doesn’t have any more left. And then he cries again. He smiles at the gravestone and takes a deep breath.

“Hey, Evan.”

[marengogo]

Rambling in INFJese - Part 10: Queerful In South Korea

SGMB and RPWP focused playlist

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

🐺 — 🐺 — 🐺—

Gurls, Bois and Enbies … Hellooooooooooo 📢 Yes, I’m finally, officially, back from my travels.

Am I feeling relaxed and refreshed?

NO.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m more tired than when I left 😬. You see, there was more excitement than I thought, or even budgeted for, but, lowkey highkey I knew it was going to turn out like that, so, it was what it was and it was unforgettable 😊💜. 

Now, on to the topic of today!

As the title kinda spoils, I would like to bring forth the topic of queerness in present day Korea, touching upon specific sub-subjects within this main-theme, which you will discover as you keep reading.

In order to provide more context and understanding, I’ll have to bring up a bit of Geography, a tad of Politics and a lot of History, and let me make this clear, even though I have been out of politics for quite some time I used to be very invested in world politics … I am presently indeed somewhat annoyed, because there seems to be a lot of misinformation that has been going around with regards to what it might mean to be gay/queer person in South Korea, in the big year of 2024, which is why I’d also like to encourage us to be proactive and do some research, on our own, with the available resources that are out there. I know it sounds heavy, but I promise I’ll try and make it as least cumbersome, and as much relatable to what might concern all Queer people, and JK and JM of course, as possible ✌🏾.

Let’s start with some Geography.

Asia … is a big ass continent. Because it is so big, amongst the people who make these kind of decisions, it was decided that this continent would have to be divided into 5 regions: Central, East, South, Southeast and West. The regions we are going to be concerned with are East and Southeast also known as ASEAN. The East has a total of 8 countries, out of which we are going to focus on 4 being; China, Japan, South Korea and Taiwan, while the Southeast has a total of 11, out of which we are only going to concentrate on 1, being Thailand … aaand that was all for Geography; painless right?

Great. So now it is time for some of History. We are now going to be talking about the history of the BL genre and the Queer art genre within two particular cultures; Eastern and Western.

BL, otherwise known as Boy’s Love, is a genre that was born in Japan in the 1970s. To properly discuss the world of BL it would take way too many blogs, so I’m afraid I won’t delve too deep into it, but in order to proceed with our discourse I need for everyone to at least understand the substantial difference between, for example, a series like The Eight Sense and Heartstopper. The first is a BL and the other is a Queer Coming-of-Age Drama. These two series are the I most point out very positive outcome of a lot of struggle and progress within both the BL and Queer art genre through the years.

The East and BLs - BL was created by women to be consumed by other women in Japan. It had nothing to do with creating content for gay/queer people, and this is very fundamental for everyone to understand. The thing is that it doesn’t matter where in the world you are, if you are or were a girl/woman you know the struggles are real. Different parts of the world deal with this frustration in different ways, and Japan and eventually the other 4 Asian countries I listed above found this to be one of them. The BL genre is basically having two men in a forbidden relationship, driven by mad passion, and who would always choose each other over the rest of the world. Star crossed-lovers where one of them would always be the Seme/Top or male-male and the other the Uke/Bottom or female-male. At the core of it all, BL was intended to be escapism, which eventually turned into fetishism and now can be all the above and something else entirely; evolution aye?

Mainly Asian women perhaps used BL to feel like their opinions and emotions could matter, in an environment where like also many other countries in Africa men are the ones that have the last say, or just any say at all. So they fulfilled their fantasy of being heard, and having power, while at the same time having the “strongest/most ideal” of men fall desperately in love with this male version of themselves. It is obviously much more complex than my two line sentence explanation, but for now, kindly keep this image in your mind.

Moving on!

The West and Queer Art - The queer genre in the West for the longest time was almost always a guaranteed tragedy. Interestingly enough, even though the first movie that mentioned homosexuality was in the 1960, the beginning of Queer culture in movies was, also for the West, in the 1970s. I can’t tell you the amount of books and films I have read and seen in my day says the woman in her thirties LOL and, despite the heart-wrenching looming tragedy, I would still enjoy finding comfort during those few chapters/scenes when the couple/pairing was happy, even though I knew for a fact that either one of them or both would die, or be eternally separated, or some other kind of tragedy.

The funny thing is that I would just accept it, because why not? Is not like my reality showed any different. It wasn’t like I was aware of happy and successful queer people around me, so why would I expect to read or watch anything else? Also I am a nasty ass angsty person so really I have no excuse. 

… are y’all following me thus far?

Now, let’s take a bit of a leap into the 2000s where money-makers finally clocked in on the fact that there is mad-money that can be made with BL in the East and Queerness in the West. In the East we start adopting fanservice within boybands and Asian-Dramas, we start printing thousands of BL mangas, and producing as many animes to match. In the West we keep having the token queer comedian appear on every show as well as making movies of historic queer figures who have impacted the world somehow, so that the queers can feel represented, even though all the actors are for the most part straight, because at this point in time, even though we acknowledge that Queer people exist, coming out is still very meh.

As the 2000s progress and we enter the 2010s thanks to actual progress within some western countries, the interweb and social media it becomes increasingly easier for an Eastern Fujoshi/Fudanshi/Fujin (Bl lover girl/boy/enby) to find themselves in say the UK, which has areas that breathe queerness and queer history and for a Western Queer to find themselves in say Japan where they can easily buy a manga about “queers” in happy relationship or, somewhere in South Korea, can easily see two very attractive boys/girls from a random kpop band openly kiss.

And then, in the midst of this “cultural” exchange, and awakening, something happens.

The Eastern Fujoshi/Fudanshi/Fujin realise that there are actual real queer people in the world sounds stupid, but believe me, it is not. That queer people are not just characters in a book, or anime, and that in fact there really are people in the world who are for example of the same sex and truly wanna be together and, if gay, for example, can also be both very masculine and still want to be together. At the same time the Western Queer realise that they actually can be happy, and that they deserves a happy ending, because some of this BLs aren’t half as bad and they sometimes make valid points and then you find out that actual queer people are now also writing BLs so things start to make some sense. 

As I mentioned, society was also changing, Queer people in the West started gaining a few rights, such as being able to get married in America and some European countries, and as a consequence, in the following decade, we now have series and movies that have Queer protagonist, with happy endings to boot! In the East, things are either not moving at all or moving a bit differently, or kinda slowly, but still it is movement. Within the countries that are moving differently, talking about Queerness is still heavy but has finally become something that they “don’t mind” just talking about and the gay neighbour is actually seen as the gay neighbour, whether they will talk to them is debatable, but at least they are recognised as such and not absurdly explained away or their existence ignored.

Now back to geography. The reason why I mentioned those 5 countries (China, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan and Thailand) is because at some point in the 2010s they were the main producers, and consumers, of BL within the Asian continent, and yes, while still being hella homophobic and, but let’s be real for a second, queer people have been around since the beginning of time, so even though BL was made and intended for women, our Queer Eastern Siblings would find a way to secretly also consume BL, being the closest thing to reading about a queer relationship, so added to the westerner consumption as well, it is no surprise that these 5 countries suddenly had a boom, despite having been being homophobic. 

Hence, it can be said that these 5 countries were on the same wavelength in the early 2010s, but what about now? With the considerable change in behaviour and thought with regards to Queer people in these countries in the early 2020s where do these 5 countries stand with regards to their Queer people and politics? Well, China has now banned BLs entirely, and I will not delve into their further lack of queer rights. Taiwan and Thailand have legalised Queer marriage. Then there is Japan which is making progress towards trying to legalise Queer marriage with to my greatest joy a successful ruling that happened this year in March related to same-sex unions … so, what about South Korea?

Well … SK is so close 🥹 … Yet so far 😫

It’s like they are taking 4 steps forward and 3 steps backwards, constantly. They are well far from China-levels which is a fucking relief I tell you! but they are dragging their feet to be at Japan-levels (and Japan is very close to Thailand and Taiwan Queer status currently). Yet, it is not as negative as it seems, or as some people try to portray it. You look around social media and they depict SK as if it were China. SK is currently facing a situation where it notices that things are changing and change is scary y’all. Resistance is the usual reaction to change, and the older generations, mainly those led by the Christian groups are not really where is at. SK’s youth and older liberal generations hold the answer to the Queer Korea questions.

So what exactly makes SK look hopeful? Well, time to get back to some History again 😘

The first Queer organisation in SK was formed in 1993 by 3 gay men and 3 lesbian women. The following year the 6 separated into 2 groups and formed the first gay organisation and the first lesbian one respectively. In 1997 we have the first demonstration for gay and lesbian rights, which then lead into 2000, the year of the first Pride Parade, which is one of the events of the very first Seol Queer Culture Festival Daegu Queer Culture Festival will be created in 2009, do keep this in mind … but another major event happened in the year 2000.

Y’all know that saying X walked so that Y could run? Well Hong Seok Cheon was basically forced to walk so that Queer Korean could learn how to properly train to run.

Though Seok-cheon is presently back to being somewhat popular again, his coming out was pretty traumatic. His career as comedian/actor started in 1994 and he was quite popular which landed him a good number of acting roles, and a lot of placements in comedy shows, as well as a kids show. In 2000 he was asked about his sexuality and he had no qualms in replying that he was gay. The show editors decided to cut out that part but a journalist gotta love them 🙃 got a hold of the footage and forced him to “elaborate”. Upon confirming, Seok-cheon lost all his jobs and was shunned verbally abused, discrimination and the lot, oh yes … by his own country. 

Not surprisingly, given that nobody in his own country wanted to interact with him, he at first thought of moving to the US to start afresh, but then decided against it. Seok-cheon decided to stay and prove to everyone in his country that he could make it and be successful again. And that he did. In 2002 he opened the first of what now is a high end chain of 9 restaurants in Itaewon. 2004 he joined the Democratic Labor Party and was selected by Time magazine as the Asian Hero of that year and in the following years Seok-cheon will keep racking up achievements  🎶🎵Did you see my bag? Did you see my bag? 🎶🎵 Namean?! (I’m not gonna list them all but you should definitely look him up and learn a bit about him, if you are interested).

But how does that connect to today? In 2008 he started his own talk show Coming Out and though there was a bit of resistance at the beginning as expected, the youth came in force and he started gaining audiences and boom! He was back on TV and slowly he’d get also a few cameos on prominent media, such as the Netflix drama Itaewon Class. Now let’s leave the lime-light for a second and let's look at the military 😬. It is vitally important that people understand that being gay is not illegal in any of the 5 countries we’ve been talking about yes, even China, but the public opinion and beliefs of each country greatly influence how their queer communities are thought of and treated.

Now, SK Military has become pretty infamous within the queer community for conducting witch-hunts in order to find out and humiliate gay soldiers, so much so that organisations such as Amnesty eventually had to step in. That being said, let's be real real real for a second. Though it is appalling what they have done to the queer soldiers, the SK military was also very famous for hazing, assaulting, causing cadets regardless of sexuality to want to unalive themselves and what more. All of the aforementioned, which put SK’s military on the map in a not so positive light globally, added to the increase in suicides, made the government address the situation, and they eventually came up with solutions such as the buddy system, which was first implemented in 2003. But, back to the gays. The most popular witch-hunt happened in 2017 where two soldiers amongst others were outed, but these particular two were found guilty of having sex off-base, during off hours.

In 2022 this conviction was overturned, the soldiers were no longer guilty and it is now no longer illegal, for queer soldiers, to have sex off-base during off-hours. You know what else happened in 2022? SK aired their first Queer reality shows, one being To Me(a)rry Queer and and the other being His Man. In 2023, His Man 2 will give us our first successful real-life queer couple, who are our beloved couple Junseong and Seongho (together known as Junseongho). They are the first queer couple to ever appear on Dazed magazine and we are all familiar with Dazed, it is not the front page like our boys get, but we all know how big of a deal this is, right?

You know what else happened in 2023? Remember that Daegu Queer Culture Festival I was talking about? The Mayor of Daegu (big Christian sympathiser) tried to stop this festival which includes the Parade and many other events, even though the Court ruled it was okay for the Festival to be carried out. The Mayor gathered other supporters and pulled up to the group, but the Daegu Police protected the Festival and removed the mayor and his “friends” from the premises. This was big and made news worldwide. 

In fact, Daegu’s Queer Culture Festival is the second largest one in the country, after Seoul’s. This is mainly possible because the Local Authorities (such as the police) are quite independent in belief from their present Mayor and the Christian factions. In contrast, for example, Busan’s Queer Culture Festival had a two year run but was then cancelled in 2019. Unfortunately, in Busan, The Mayor, the Local Authorities and the Christian factions are buddy-buddies making it much harder to get protection and permissions, aaaaaand things like that, kids, is why it is super important to vote for your local administration as well.

Even though these are all very important stepping stones, SK is nowhere close to being the UK, obviously. The LGBTQ community still has to get all their core rights being legalised, and queer people can still be subject to random ass attacks, such as the singer Holland had in 2022, which, by the way, also still occasionally does happen in the UK and everywhere else in the Queer World. Which is a general minority reality I’m afraid.

Furthermore, it is still illegal to have sex on base, which the country maintains that they are upholding because they are trying to prevent possible sexual assaults not too mad about this tbh, which is a valid concern, but most importantly they now know that the world is watching and why is that important? Because, for example, even though they are now separated, one of the boys from the Me(a)rry Queer couples enlisted around the same time with JK & JM and from his posts and photo-booth pictures that other soldiers posted of him, he seems to be making friends and to be comfy as comfy as you can get while serving, kinda like Joonie and most likely JM & JK

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Not quite the attitude of someone fearing a witch-hunt, right? But then again, there isn’t much to hunt when you are already out, it is afterall illegal to hunt people and the world is now aware; is there? …

Now back to the general people of SK. According to a survey conducted in 2023 last year, 56% of South Koreans still oppose same-sex marriage (in comparison with only 26% of Japanese). 56% is not bad but then 72% don’t want queer people in their neighbourhoods and  workplace, though 81% think that it is not right to terminate people because of their sexual orientation 4 steps ➡️3 steps ⬅️… … … Basically it’s okay to be queer here as in SK, but not here-here, perhaps over there like a queer only neighbourhood or something which at the moment is the Itaewon district. 

So yes, 2024 Queer SK is still struggling though they are not going to be overtly nasty about it, because the world is watching. I mean, don’t get me wrong, progress is progress and we love to see that, it is actually amazing, but there still needs to be a general environment where LGBTQ rights in SK need to be recognised and for queer Koreans to not be discriminated against in their social/work/family life. It is also great that Queer media is trying to transition more and more from only BL to actual Queer Drama, for example I am really looking forward to watching Love In The Big City which btw also stars Kim Go Eun.

There is still work to be done, but I think Jung Cueri, a lesbian woman who helps with the Seoul Queer Culture Festival, says it best (here is the full article https://www.dw.com/en/why-are-south-koreans-less-welcoming-of-lgbtq-neighbors/a-68698268 ):

“I think the attitudes of younger generations of Koreans are getting better," she said, pointing out that young LGBTQ+ individuals "tend to come out sooner to their families, in their workplaces and schools than my generation because they are more aware of their sexuality through social media and exposure to various discussions that are more tolerant of LGBTQ+ people." And the cultural festival can help to be a catalyst to change further, she believes. "It will get better," she said. "And that is why the organizers and everyone else involved in the festival are working so hard; they know that Korean society will get better, and they want to contribute to that.

From where I stand it seems Hopeful, Queerful, if you may.

So, Fighting!, Queer South Korea!

Always respectfully yours,

Marengo. 

[barrenclan]

ok ONE more music ask bc i think this is the third one i’ve submitted for the new issue so far:

so i went back & read issue 37 while listening to “drunk walk home” by mitski (both the original and the live at palisades version), timing my reading with the listening so that certain panels & passages would line up with the right points in the song, and dear. fucking. LORD. i wanna make a rainhaze pmv with this so badly. the only question is which version of the song to use

so the best way i can explain it:

*drumbeat intro* - the title page

“i will retire to the salton sea/at the age of 23” - that comic panel at the beginning showing how much he changed

“for i’ve started to learn i may never be free/but though I may never be free/fuck you and your money/i’m tired of your money” - idk exactly how it’d line up with the issue but something something him being influenced by defiance & ranger, something something “you can love someone and still hate/hurt them”

*guitar picks up* - the canine realization and/or slug’s reaction to the murder reveal. some combination of the two.

“and i sit on the curb ‘cause it’s the prettiest night/with no one else in sight/don’t you know i wore this dress for you/these killer heels for you” - rain gets all defensive & tries to justify the murder with the sleep thing & the hypocrisy

“see the dark, it moves/with every breath of the breeze” (+ the buildup before the guitar solo) - “convince them…okay”

*guitar solo* - slug attacks him, big fight scene

and of course the screaming at the end correlates to him screaming as he’s gutted like a baked potato

Nice!! I always love how much thought you put into song choices.

As a Johnny Cash enjoyer I must say I do prefer his cover but of course I love Nine Inch Nails too. More dark and gritty does fit Rainhaze better.

I've never actually listened to or seen Repo, but it does seem like something that would be up my alley. It does fit him too, driving in what he's done and forcing him to remember killing Asphodelpaw.

I remember every dying whisper Every desperate murmur I remember when I gaze upon her She looks just like you I remember, I remember

I like this from Rainhaze's perspective, like he's constantly trying to guess what Ranger wants from him, how much he has to hurt himself to please Ranger.

The waves suck you in then you drown If like, you'd just stay down with me I'll swim down with you Is that what you want?

You hang the anchors over my neck (Saw your end) I liked it at first but the more you laughed The crazier I became

Haha aww, Pinepaw.

I lost some weight from anxious pacing talking on the telephone If I look cool I'm fooling you At any point you can assume My mind's computing every path that screws up what I wanna do

The things that I can't shoulder well I pass onto my older self And hope I learn to cope so I don't end up broke or overwhelmed 'Cause vocally, I'm not the best

Poinsettia is an interesting pull, but I can see it. I hate to say Rainhaze once again but yknow... kinda Rainhaze...

The feelings of regret And now I'm running to forget But know, the consequence of imagination's fear I met a man downtown the other day With ruby eyes that took my life away

Thе antidote we look so hard to find To purge yourself of fear, relax your mind But heaven only knows Where my mind leads, the feeling grows

Someone has actually recently made an incredible animatic set to Ptolemaea, actually! You can see it here.

That's alright, I usually do all the lyric quoting!

Pick up another cigarette Smoke it now and soon you'll forget If only your silver lining had better timing 'Cause there's no crown for one on the way down

Your dull blade and your dusty attire Can bring back all those burning desires So go back to the pit or roll over

I'd love to see the animation if you ever make it! It does have big synergy with "The Death of BarrenClan" event.

Heed the sirens, take shelter, my lover Flee the fire that devours But the sight held me fixed like a bayonet against my throat

It was a pale white horse With a crooked smile And I knew it was my time

Not a song in the world that doesn't make me think of Rainhaze... anyways, I always like a good Hoosiers song.

Everything you love turns to dust, You'd make more of it but you felt rushed By all that's periphery, You held tight, but on the contrary

Don't look your life passed you by, 'Cause you're too attached to it, Don't look your life passed you by, 'Cause you're too attached to it

[ilovebubblegum]

More Than Life (Joel Miller x Reader)

Pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, reference to smut, fluff, sweet joel, protective joel, violence, mentions of cannibalism, age gap (reader is in her 20s and Joel is in his 50s) (lmk if i missed any)

Summary (Series): You were popular in Jackson but you have been single your whole life. Despite many men flirting with you, you have never found your ideal type. Until one day, you saw Joel and you fell in love at first sight.  But he felt insecure.

Summary: Pov: You went to join Joel on patrol without his knowledge. Who knows what happens next?

Words count: 2k

A/N: This is part 6 for I Don’t Deserve You series. But it can also be read as a standalone. Hope you like it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

11.49

You were pacing back and forth in your living room waiting for Joel. 11 more minutes and your birthday would be over. You would be disappointed if you didn’t spend your birthday with him. Birthdays were always a thing for you, especially this was your first birthday since you were dating Joel. But on the other side, you were also worried that something bad happened. Which might be the reason why he was late. 

*knock on the door*

You ran to your door and opened it. 

“Sorry, I’m late.” Joel was panting. 

He looked really tired. You knew he came straight to your house right after patrol. He was full of sweat as he didn’t even have the time to take a shower.

“Thank God you’re here. I thought something bad happened to you.” You jumped to hug him.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” He hugged you tight. You kissed him.

“I-Ugh-I didn’t have the time to take a shower. I’m dirty.” He put his hand behind his neck.

“I don’t care. What matters is that you’re here with me.” You took his hand and dragged him inside.

“I got you somethin’.” He took off his backpack.

“You got me a present?” Your eyes widened. You loved getting presents.

“Happy birthday, darlin’.” Joel took out something from his bag and gave it to you.

“A book? How did you get it?” You wondered.

“Found it at an abandoned house during patrol. Haven’t seen that one on your bookshelf. Thought you might like it. Heard it was a famous one.” 

“Jane Eyre?” You read the title and the summary behind the book.

“Interesting. I love it. Thank you so much, Joel.” You hugged him again and kissed him.

“You really need to stop hugging me now. I’m being self-conscious. I’m smelly.” He chuckled.

You didn’t care what he said. Instead, you moved closer to him and sniffed him like a puppy, teasing him.

“Stop it.” He laughed.

“Wish I could go out and find more books.” You started that conversation again.

“I’ll get you more when I go on patrol.” He sighed.

“But I-” Joel cut you.

“We’re not talking about this again. You know what my answer is. The answer is always no. End of conversation.” His expression changed from happy to angry.

You stayed quiet.

“Are we clear?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yes.” You replied coldly.

“Repeat it.” 

“Clear.” You rolled your eyes.

You didn’t listen to Joel this time. Instead, you found Liam who was responsible for making the patrolling schedules. You asked him about Joel’s and you applied to join. You told him not to tell Joel as you were keeping this as a secret from Joel. You practiced your shooting skills until it was the day of your first patrol. 

“Why are you here?” Joel furrowed his brows.

“I’m here for patrol.” You acted dumb.

“What?” He raised his voice.

You avoided his eyes. 

“Did you not remember what I told you? How did you even-” 

“Well, it’s too late, Joel. I’m here now. I’ve prepared myself. I’ll be fine.” You insisted.

“Fine. Just stick with me. Understand?” 

“Yes, sir.”

You and Joel rode the same horse. You put your arms around his waist and rested your head on his back. That day, you went on groups with Joel, Noah, and Sam. Noah was the leader for the day.

“Okay, so we’re gonna split here. I’ll go check north with Joel. Sam, you go south with (y/n). We’ll meet here in 4 hours then we’ll go east and west.” Noah commanded.

“I’m sorry, Noah. But (y/n) needs to go with me. I need to keep my eye on her.” Joel added.

“I’m not a kid, Joel. I’ll go with Sam. We’ll meet you here.” You gestured to Sam to ride the horse with you.

Nothing bad happened while you were patrolling with Sam. You wondered why Joel didn’t allow you to patrol. Was he lying to you? You wondered why he wouldn’t let you see the beautiful nature outside Jackson walls. 

“Hi there!” Two men suddenly showed up.

Sam stopped the horse. You grabbed your gun and aimed at them. 

“We’re not a threat.” The strangers said.

You and Sam got off the horse and talked to them. You tied the horse at the tree.

“Can we help you?” Sam asked.

“Yes, we’re hungry. We have a group with us and we need something to eat.”

“Well, we don’t have food with us now. But we can get you something.” Sam answered.

“Or we can help you hunt here?” You added as you saw they didn’t look like they had any weapons.

“Sure, thank you so much.” 

Sam and you walked in front of them and turned into hunting mode. You had never hunted before so you just followed Sam. 

*Sam screamed*

You turned to look and you saw the two men stabbed Sam from behind. 

“Sam!” You looked at him as he fell to the ground. You grabbed your gun and aimed at the men.

“Back off!” You shouted.

“Easy, pretty girl. We’re not gonna kill you. We need your friend to fill our stomach. But you.. You’re pretty so you can give something else to us.” The stranger smirked.

“Go! Run! Get Joel and Noah!” Sam shouted.

You hesitated to leave him but you knew you couldn’t fight these two men alone. So you ran. Hoping Sam would still be alive when you got back there with help.

“Get her alive!” The stranger shouted at his friend.

Both of them ran behind you to catch you. You ran as fast as you could. Your friend’s life was on the line and so did yours. You ran and got to your horse. 

“Come on! Go!” You yelled at the horse and it ran. 

You ran north and you were losing them. It was a bit far until you saw Joel’s and Noah’s figure. 

“Joel! Joel!” You shouted.

“Did you hear that?” Noah asked Joel.

“What?” Joel was deaf one ear so he didn’t hear you.

“Joel! Help!” Your horse kept running.

“That’s (y/n)!” Noah looked back.

“Fuck!” Joel panicked.

You finally got to them. You immediately got off the horse and ran to Joel’s embrace. 

“What happened? Where’s Sam?” Noah panicked too.

“There’s-there’s some men- He’s hurt- We need to save him!” You screamed.

“Hey, hey. You okay? You hurt? Anythin’?” Joel checked you up and down.

You panted and shook your head. The three of you walked towards the south going back to save Sam.

“Oh my God. It’s them.” You saw the two men running near you.

“Stay behind me.” Joel shoved you behind him and got ready with his rifle. Noah did the same.

“My friend here told me you hurt our friend. Where is he?” Noah pointed his gun to the strangers.

“Easy, easy. We’re just here for the girl. Just give us the pretty girl and we’ll give you back your friend.” One of the strangers tried to bargain.

“Joel…” You pulled Joel’s shirt from the back.

He glanced at you for a second and looked back at the strangers.

“That’s not gonna happen.” He growled.

“What? Is she your daughter or something?” The other men scoffed.

“You better be careful of what you say next.” Joel’s blood boils. His grip on the rifle got tighter.

“All of us are men. I’m sure you know what we need. Especially that pretty girl right there has a fucking sexy body. She’s probably a slut that all of you have fucked. Why don’t you share with us?”

You were shaking. You were scared. You just understood why Joel insisted on you not going out for patrol. You should have listened to him in the first place. 

“You want to do this the hard way or the easy way?” Joel’s patience was running out.

“What’s that?” The stranger got cocky.

“I’ll let you go if you apologize to her right now.” Joel gave them an option.

“Or what?” The stranger laughed.

“Or this will be a bloodbath.” Joel gave them a death stare.

“Just apologize, man.” Noah was nervous. He knew what Joel was capable of.

“All of this just for the slut?” The stranger laughed.

*gunshot*

Joel couldn’t hold himself. He shot him at the leg. Noah fought the other guy.

“Apologize!” He yelled at the guy and pressed the wound.

“You’re not gonna kill me.” He was still cocky.

Joel shot him again at the other leg. 

“Fine! Fine! I’m sorry!” He cried.

“For what!” Joel yelled at his face.

“Sorry for calling you a slut!” He apologized while looking at you.

You flinched when Joel shot him at the head after he apologized. You were trembling and speechless. 

“No!” The other guy cried.

Joel's breathing was heavy and he looked to the other guy that Noah was holding. He shot him dead. 

“Joel! What the fuck!” Noah yelled.

“Let’s get Sam. Where is he?” Joel didn’t care he killed them. They were threats. 

“He-he-he’s there.” You guided Joel and Noah to Sam.

“Sam!” You ran to him.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’re safe now.” You cradled him.

The four of you went back to Jackson and got Sam help. Then you and Joel went home.

*Joel slammed the door*

You flinched. You were avoiding having conversation with Joel since what happened on patrol.

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?!” Joel yelled at you.

Your hands started to shake. You had never seen him like this before.

“I told you it was dangerous! Why are you being so stubborn!” 

“I-I’m sorry.” You stepped back from him. Tears welling in your eyes.

“You’re never going anywhere closer to the gate. Ever! You hear me!” He raised his voice.

You nodded as you wiped your tears from your cheeks. 

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, looked up, closed his eyes, and sighed. He took a deep breath in and out trying to calm himself down. Meanwhile, you were just standing there frozen. You were too scared to move.

“Baby, I-I’m sorry.” He apologized.

You just nodded and kept crying. 

“Come here.” He stepped closer to hug you but you instinctively stepped back.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I would never hurt you.” He slowly walked closer and hugged you.

“I just-I don’t want you to get hurt. I’ve lost the people I loved and I don’t want to lose one again. I swear on my life, I will never fall in love again. Not after losing Sarah, Sarah’s mom, Tess. Losing someone I love is the last thing I want to have in this fucked up world. But then I met you. You changed me. You make me believe that there’s still hope. Love. Happiness. I will protect you with my life no matter what happens. I love you more than my life. You should know that.” He stroked your head up and down.

You started sobbing and hyperventilating at his words.

“I love you, too.” You mumbled at his chest. 

Joel cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead. He looked at you through your eyes as his thumb wiped your tears from your cheeks.

“Are we cool now?” His voice was now softer.

You nodded and rested your head on his chest. 

The night carried on with you and Joel having make-up sex in your bedroom.

Joel groaned as he fell on top of you catching his breath. He came inside you. 

“Did you just cum inside me?” Your hands were resting on his back.

Joel froze for a second.

“You forgot to pull out.” You repeated.

“Shit.” He got up and sat facing you as you propped yourself with your elbow facing him.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized.

“I mean-You gotta have a lot of sex to get pregnant right?” You needed assurance from him.

Having a child and being a mother was always your dream. That was why you chose to teach kids. But this was not how you wanted to have kids. You didn’t want to have kids by mistake. You wanted to have kids when both partners agreed.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” He assured you.

“I’m sorry.” Joel put his hand on his forehead and apologized again.

“It’s okay.” 

“You have to tell me if something happens okay?” 

“You mean if I get pregnant.” You smirked.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” 

“Okay.”

To be continued…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @stevengmybeloved @happinessinthebeing @angelicbbsblog @aheadfullofsteverogers @mxtokko @bebe07011

[trashietroll]

Title: Lamb Chops

Word Count: 5.4k

Characters: Hybrid(Sheep)!Reader x Ransom Drysdale

Warnings: Bullying, Sexual Harassment, Noncon( to come )

( Do not interact with this blog if you are under the age of eighteen(18) or find taboo and dark subjects triggering. All hate messages will be deleted. Read responsibly. )

AN: Happy Friday everyone! This is my debut back into fanfic so be gentle(but constructive criticism is always welcome). Big, big thanks to Sydney(@buck-star) for being so helpful every step of the way, and being patient with me; go show her work some love! Thank you to @stevesbestgirll as well, for giving me their thoughts! See you at the bottom friends ❤

“It’s time for you to start pulling your own weight around here.”

A small wooden box was passed from one hand to his other, his attention far more focused on the ornate puzzle than the older man. At a quick glance it might have appeared like he knew the solution, which cubes slid where, and how each angle clicked into place. However, if you were familiar with him, you would know the slight furrow at his brow betrayed his confusion.

“Hugh, are you listening to me?”

The use of his first name, and lesser preferred title, pulled Ransom from his fiddling. Harlan couldn’t help but feel a little smug, watching Ransom toss the bauble back on his desk with an irritated huff; his grandson was clever, but peevish. Loafers, far too expensive for someone living off another person’s money, found their home crisscrossed on the edge of Harlan’s desk; having learned long ago that one must choose their battles with Ransom to avoid an unnecessary headache, the older man decided to move past it. “I pull my weight.” “Golfing with potential retailers, and agents is hardly pulling your weight– even then you are rarely interested unless the person of interest is of, shall I say, a feminine disposition.” An imperious curl turned the edge of Ransom’s mouth, Harlan’s hardened gaze had him quickly correcting it. 

He shrugged, “My business tactics work best with that sort of audience.” “Business tactics is not what I’d call whatever it is that you do.” “Regardless of what you would call it, it works. An agreement is always made before we even reach the ninth hole, is that not enough to please you?” “You’re very right, Ransom, and that’s exactly why you should be more involved with the company; because you do have what it takes to be successful. You’re just too focused on your exorbitant watches and–,” Harlan waves flippantly towards his grandson’s attire “– the thread count of your sweaters.” The blond in question clenched his jaw, shifting his feet to bounce impatiently on the floor. He was quickly getting tired of the old man. Harlan leaned back in his seat with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought for a moment. “I’m getting too old to be continuously traveling into the city like this– not that my health has ever concerned you. Before long I will be permanently moving to the estate, and at that point what little involvement I will continue to have with Blood Like Wine will be conducted from there. I wish for you to take over my operations here when that happens.” “Lucky me. Unfortunately I’ll have to decline your offer, coerce Meg into taking up residence in this stuffy office; in fact, I bet she’d love the smell of your lingering geriatric aroma. Probably call the place vintage,” Ransom mimicked the pitch of his cousin’s voice. “Meg is pursuing her own dreams, and so far, appears to be doing it very successfully. You, however, I refuse to let suckle from my metaphorical teat forever without any personal advancement.” He wrinkled his nose at Harlan’s choice of words, his grandfather never passed up an opportunity to infantilize him. Before he had a chance to voice another ignoble remark, there was a soft knock at the door. As if Harlan knew he wasn’t going to say anything of importance, he allowed the person entrance. Ransom’s eyebrows curved with interest as the figure walked into view, the smell of clean linens and fresh rain tickling his nose. 

♫ And then you come home to me?

    And don’t say hello ‘cause I got high again

    And forgot to fold my clothes

    ‘Cause I’m too messy and then I’m too fucking clean

    You told me get a job then you ask where the hell I’ve been

    I’m too perfect ‘til I open my big mouth–

“ – I want to be me, is that not allowed!” An angry horn interrupted the melodious trance you had slipped into, your foot following a little too heavy on the gas pedal as you sped through the green light. You waved apologetically to the car behind you, knowing that your off tune singing wasn’t worth holding up traffic for. 

Much to the relief of the other driver, you soon turned into the parking lot of your work, Blood like Wine publishing. It was a fine job, wonderful even; your duties had less to do with the intricacies of how publishing worked and more to do with assisting the founder, a kind man by the name of Harlan Thrombey. He treated you as an equal, even though you were merely his assistant, and never once behaved as if you were a lesser being due to your genetics. Your pay was just as good as someone who wasn’t sporting a tail and ears, he was always understanding of when you needed to call out, and you got one of the parking spots right in front of the building, which was a godsend on chilly mornings like today. 

To your unfortunate surprise, you went to pull into your designated area only to find a car already occupying it. What the heck… you muttered. Feeling rather crestfallen, you pulled off in search of an empty slot somewhere else.

It had taken a little more than ten minutes for you to realize finding a space in the company's car park was a lost cause, without any better option, you were forced to use the parking deck a block away and brave the cold as you shuffled to work. Your hat and scarf were removed upon arriving at the desk donning your name plate; the floppy ears at the crown of your head shook, removing the snow that had stuck to the soft fur, docked tail following in suit. “My, my, not Ms. Punctual being three minutes late.” You turned to find the temp and receptionist, Marcus and Leah, approaching with coffee and impish grins. A pleasant work relationship was shared between you and the majority of your coworkers, but you found yourself spending most of your free time speaking to these two. The pair’s rascally behaviors made it hard not to be drawn to them.

The latter handed you a cup of hot coffee, steam whipping around the mug as you gingerly blew on it. “Someone had taken my spot, I ended up having to park a block away and pay for parking.” 

Your two companions shared a knowing look before Leah spoke, “I have a feeling I know exactly who the parking thief is.”

“Oh? Do share, I’d rather say something to them myself rather than make a big deal of it to Mr. Thrombey.”

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” You gave Leah a quizzical look as you chanced a sip of your drink. “Lucky for you Harlan, adores his little assistant so I doubt you’ll be getting any slaps on the wrist this morning. God, I wish Angelea would give me the slack Harlan gives you.”

“Not disagreeing with you that Angelea can be a total hardass, but she does have to oversee a lot of people, it makes sense she wants to keep a tight ship.” 

“Said like a true worker bee,” Marcus joked. “We shouldn’t keep you though, Harlan’s grandson is here and I’m sure the old guy would be happy if you came to give him a little bit of a reprieve from the brat.”

You had never personally met Ransom Drysdale, but you had heard enough to know that you didn’t want to meet him. Apparently he was conceited, rude, and all around a vile person; everything you hated in an individual. As much as you didn’t wish to insert yourself in a meeting between him and his grandfather, it was about time you began attending to your duties as Harlan’s assistant. 

You flipped through the papers on your desk, setting aside the things that would need to be overseen by the Thrombey patriarch and which ones could be handled by you alone. Marcus continued to gossip as you set down your coffee and tucked a stack of papers beneath your arm. “I’ve heard that we might be seeing more of him around the place, Harlan seems to be cracking down on him a bit more; guess he’s getting tired of his unfounded superiority complex.”

“And by ‘what you’ve heard’, you mean what you’ve gathered while eavesdropping?” Leah raised an accusatory eyebrow. 

Marcus raised his hands to convey a false innocence. “Hey, people have to get their information from someone around here, and our most prime source of gossip refuses to pitch in,” the male jerked his thumb in your direction.

Clipping a pen to the neckline of your top, you raise your eyes to give him an unconcerned look. “Because I have better things to do than fueling rumors, just like I have stuff to get done right now, same as I’m sure both of you do.” With a wave of your hand you shooed them off, turning to approach Harlan’s office. Nervously flatting your ears, you knock when you hear a quiet lull in the conversation inside. 

Harlan’s gentle but confident voice ushered you inside. The male sitting across from him immediately had you feeling timid, he exuded an air of pomposity that left you avoiding eye contact. His hair was combed neatly to match his clean shaven appearance, Ransom’s looks fit perfectly to the rumors that went around about him; self centered and snotty.

“Speaking of suckling on teats, when did you start allowing farm animals into the office?” Distaste painted his words, but Ransom’s face held an expression of mild amusement and interest. “Have you accidentally wandered away from your trough?” You couldn’t help but wrinkle your brow at the insult.

“Quiet Ransom,” Harlan snapped, his face softening when he looked at you. “Ignore my inane grandson, darling. I was wondering when I’d get to see you, lord knows I’d prefer your company to his.”

“I’m sorry, sir; I had to walk from the parking deck this morning, or I would have been here sooner.”

“No need for apologies, what kept you from your usual spot?”

You hesitated, you had no intention of getting anyone in trouble, but Harlan was not the type of person to berate someone over a parking error. “Um, someone had parked there, I’m sure it was a simple mistake. Appeared to be an old BMW, nothing too fancy or recognizable I suppose.”

Before Ransom could even begin to speak, Harlan adopted a delighted smirk from your words. “That is more than an old BMW, it’s a BMW CSi, it’s a piece of art on wheels. That car cost more than your home, closet, and probably your entire existence, little cow,” He snapped viciously. 

You were left a little stunned by the sharpness of his voice and words; hybrids were not extremely uncommon among the world, and discrimination among them was certainly a real thing, but you had never experienced someone speak so illy towards you so many times in the space of three minutes. It was shocking, and the only thing you could think of saying at that moment was a soft, “With all due respect, sir, I’m a sheep. Not a cow.” 

Harlan quickly came to your rescue, “Not everyone has an obsession with materialistic things like you do, Ransom, and if you say one more thing that disrespects the biology of my assistant I will withhold next month's allowance.”

An eye roll was the only response Harlan received, you took that as your chance to give your boss the documents in your hands and quickly leave. “Here is the manuscript acquisition for the Greer novel, I will have copies sent down to records and sales. This is the report from our advertising team about updated marketing trends and…” 

Ransom watched as you quickly and efficiently went through the papers in your dainty hands, a slight tremble as you shuffled from paper to paper; he was proud to accept the honor of making you nervous, his grandfather rarely intimidated anyone but his own children, and seemed to harbour a soft spot for the little hybrid. His eyes traced the velvety lines of your ears, and the slight blush that lined your cheeks and the bridge of your nose(he wondered if that was related to your species, or just a cute feature of yours). From his position he caught a glimpse of the small tail that sat just above the curve of your ass, flicking mindlessly as you spoke to Harlan; Ransom had welcomed hybrids into his bed in the past, but never one of the sheep variety, lecherous thoughts crowded his mind of the noises you might make in the throes of passion. 

You had finished your spiel swiftly, eager to be out of the tense room. “I’ll leave you to it, sir, and I’ll get on the phone with someone at The Boston Globe asap to discuss our advertising agreements, and the pitches you presented at your last meeting. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“That’ll be all, thank you, y/n.”

“Yes, sir. It was… nice meeting you, Mr. Drysdale,” You hesitated, giving him an awkward half bow that had you cringing as you fled the room.

Ransom tilted his head, watching you go out of the corner of his eye. Leaning his chin on the palm of his hand, his index finger stroked his lower lip in contemplation, silently watching his grandfather examine the newly acquired forms.

“I’ll be in no sooner than twelve tomorrow, and be leaving no later than four. Someone better have lunch for me upon arrival.”

♫ You told me get a job then you ask where the hell I've been

    And I'm too perfect 'til I open my big mouth

    I want to be me, is that not allowed?

    And I'm too clever—

“ – and then I’m too fuc— AHH!” Nearly hitting a man with your car, namely Ransom Drysdale, was not how you expected to end your lunch. You mentally thanked your breaks, despite them being fairly subpar, for saving your job and a potential broken bone for Ransom. As shaken as you were, the man in question barely gave you a glance as he proceeded into the building; it was clear that this was Ransom’s world and we’re all just living in it. Pulling into your spot you turn off the radio and tug on your lengthy ears with a groan. You had somehow managed to forget that Harlan mentioned that Ransom would be in today, and the following days. After the interaction you had to endure yesterday you were very unwilling to subject yourself to his company again. With a pout, you gathered your things and made your way inside, tail lacking its usual happy wag.

Leah was absent from the front desk but as you continued on to your own you came across Marcus, who immediately stopped mid step and gave you a look of pity. Without skipping a beat, you jumped into telling him about the close call that happened minutes prior. “Y/n, y/n– not that I’m uninterested in what you have to say, but you should probably get to your desk. Ransom’s there and he’s looking very impatient.”

Your brows furrowed, “What? W-why?”

“I don’t know, but I have to go, he’s sent me to go get him food from some restaurant I’ve never even heard of. I wish you all the luck though, if anyone can put up with him it’s you… or Harlan.” Marcus began to rush off, before he made it far he pivoted on his heel and scurried back. “I almost forgot, Harlan told me to tell you not to let Ransom push you around– alright, knock ‘im dead.”  Before you could ask why Harlan couldn’t tell you himself, your friend had disappeared in a breeze of muttering. 

Very reluctantly, you rounded the corner to find, who was quickly becoming, your least favorite person. He was sitting pretty in your chair, eyeing a happy family picture you had next to your computer. A happy portrait of siblings and parents was probably rare among the Thrombeys. Noticing your presence, he swiveled to look at you, “As if almost hitting me in the parking lot wasn’t enough, you’ve decided to make me wait too? So far I’m finding it hard to believe you're one of Harlan’s star employees.”

Your ears slump, your hands going to wring each other nervously. “I’m so sorry, sir, I wasn’t aware you’d be waiting for me. A-are you looking for Harlan? I can see where he’s at, let him know you’re here–”

“No, I’m here to see you, chops. You’re supposed to show me what it is that Harlan does here so I can take over. I'll be shadowing you today so rejoice, this will be the only time you’ll ever get to tell me what to do.” He stood up, perching his coat on the back of your chair, where yours typically went. 

“I-I’m sure there’s someone more qualified to show you the ropes. I’m just Harlan’s assistant, I don’t actually do anything that he does, I just… assist him,” You explain hopelessly.

Ransom quirks his eyebrow, his eyes darkening with a lewd amusement. “And soon you’ll be assisting me, chops– hell, you might even enjoy it.” You cowered a little at his words, a worried blat lodged in your chest. Ransom continued, “You're with the old man all day everyday, who better to teach me the ins and outs of what he does? So if you’re done arguing, put your crap down and let's get started.”

“Yes, sir,” you sighed, keeping the trepidation off your face as you tucked your things away.

Despite Blood like Wine being a fairly small operation, there was a lot to it, and it was overwhelming to even decide where to begin showing Ransom how things worked. You were rather perplexed when he had remained quiet as you began to show him around the building. Nodding his head in response to your various instructions and explanations, and seemingly paying attention to the steps that went into publishing. You were beginning to wonder if working with Ransom would actually be so bad when things began going downhill. 

You hadn’t noticed his taunting at first, assuming he had a genuine concern of where he could find each and every basic office supply he could think of: thumbtacks, post-it notes, markers, coffee filters(as if he’d ever be making coffee at the office), paper, paperclips, tape, more tape… He had you go into detail on what the bathroom and break room cleaning schedule was, then asked you to repeat both because he hadn’t heard the first time. 

Fifteen minutes was spent in the conference room so he could decide which chair was the comfiest, and stated that going forward no one was to sit in it but him.

His teasing was taken even further after the two of you were forced close together in a crowded elevator; upon seeing how uncomfortable the nearness of him made you, he gave you very little personal space thereafter. 

The two of you had been leaning over a desk, peering at some recently acquired rough drafts, when he had taken it as a prime opportunity to stand so close at your back that you could feel the heat of him. You had to cease the wiggling of your tail once it became apparent that it would be stroking at his crotch; you had a feeling he realized this when he asked ‘So this can quit its twitching?’ with a little flick at the appendage. That interaction had your face red with embarrassment for quite some time after.  

The journey through the building had finally brought you to the design department, and the last part of your tour. “The author of each book gives the final okay for each novel’s design, and the advertisement blueprints, but nothing is ever moved to the printing house without Harlan looking at it first. It is his company after all, he wants whatever is produced to properly reflect the business aesthetics, business model, and quality that is promised with the Blood like Wine logo. In my opinion, this is one of the more entertaining… Mr. Drysdale?” Turning to speak directly to him you were faced with an empty space. As much as you would have liked to turn back around, pretend like you hadn’t noticed his absence and just continue on without him, you were far too good at your job to abandon your duty.

Meandering around various cubicles and tables lined with artwork you soon found the handsome, as begrudging as you were to admit it, man leaned against a table with a suave grin directed. A blushing brunette meeting his gaze avidly. Closing your eyes you took a deep, controlled breath, and let it out through your nose; your ears must have been tense because they immediately relaxed against your head. 

“Mr. Drysdale.” You spoke firmly, startled and impressed by the confidence in your voice. Don’t let Ransom push you around. The way he slowly looked up at you, grin falling and blue eyes menacingly trained on you, made you regret the reprimanding tone you had used– but you were so close to being done with this silly, pointless task, you needed to stand your ground in order to just get it over with. 

He approached you, no mirth now etched into his face like it had been all day, only a dry, unimpressed veneer over his features. He slowly opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to the punch before you could lose your courage. A little lamb threatening the big bad wolf. “I fear you’re not taking this as seriously as you should be. Mr. Thrombey has–”

“Mr. Thrombey is my grandfather and–”

“ – and he has tasked me with preparing you to take over his position and educate you on the job. You might not realize the importance of what is being asked of you, but I do and I understand the consequences should I not do as I’m asked and help you. So please bear with me a little longer, Mr. Drysdale. I am almost done with my monotonous droning and then, I promise, there will be plenty of time to flirt with the workers after.” 

The words came out fast and hard, because you feared if they didn’t then they’d get stuck in your throat and you might just choke on them. Ransom looked stunned, anger slowly coloring his iris’, but stunned nonetheless. He stepped closer, chest almost brushing yours and his head craned down due to his height over you, he sucked in a breath in preparation for whatever scathing remark he was about to unleash on you. It was then he noticed the eyes of the surrounding department glued to the two of you, a mismatched duo at odds with each other. He froze, taking in his surroundings before looking back at you, the chilling smile that turned his lips made your heart palpitate. There was no kindness in the curve of it, only a promise for revenge. Taking a step back, he allowed the breath you had been holding to leave you, and with a dramatic wave of his arm, he motioned for you to lead the way. 

Things went smoothly from there, you suppose. Ransom caused no more problems for you, and you were quickly done with everything. It was unclear if he was actually listening to you, or just humoring you, and despite your show of concern in the design department, you didn’t care. You began to make your way back to your desk, Ransom coming with you only to retrieve his jacket, then leaving your side with a sharp ‘I’m leaving. Tell Harlan I’ll contact him.’

The heavy weight you had been unknowingly carrying all day melted away, you fell into your chair with a sigh and sudden urge to burst into exhausted tears. Did Ransom have that effect on everyone, or just you?

“Okay, I finally found Clunny, had to speed walk ten blocks because traffic was at a standstill and that was the closest the Uber could get. Got there and was told the head chef, who Ransom specifically asked for, had the day off. Had to call him, he agreed if I brought the ingredients to him he’d fix the meal with an extra fee. Don’t ask me how I got all the stuff he needed there, and I still wasn’t able to– where’s Ransom?” Marcus breathed, face glistening with a thin sheen of sweat and a large paper bag in hand. You lazily rolled your head to look at him, his face falling upon not seeing his soon-to-be boss. “y/n, where is Ransom?”

At least you weren’t the only person whose time got wasted by Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

You hummed passively to the morning radio the rest of the week and into the following one, the music just didn’t rev you up like it had the previous mornings. Blond hair and pretty white teeth haunted your mind, and kept you unable to sleep. Ransom had made himself fairly scarce, but he still managed to find time to torment you. You had been sent on a wild goose chase one morning to find a specific coffee bean that after a lengthy day of looking, you found out couldn’t be purchased in the entire state. He would leave trash on your desk to dispose of, purposely not using the many trash cans around the building. He would repeatedly use your parking spot, when you both knew he was now aware it was your designated slot.

However, he never once ordered you around in person, always sending someone else to carry the message; you were thankful you were spared any direct contact with him. Ransom was still around the building, you would see him every now and then, occasionally catch him staring pensively at you. 

If this was just a taste of what working with Ransom was like, you weren’t sure how long you would last, not without Harlan around to provide a buffer. Harlan had become absent, here some days and gone the others, even when he was in the building he never stayed a full day. Ransom had made himself somewhat comfortable in his grandfather’s office, but occupied other areas of the building, rather than the room next to your desk. You feared when and how Ransom would decide to end his avoidance of you. 

Thursday, two weeks after nearly hitting Drysdale with your car, Harlan had called you into his office. He was smiling as you sat down, but it wasn’t a comforting expression, it looked… sad.

“Dear, I have some news that might be considered bad. Maybe the opposite to others,” He joked lightly. “I’m sure you’ve noticed my truancy of late so I feel I need to explain myself to you. My health has rapidly been declining, and though I’ve never really enjoyed the city, being here now is precisely the opposite of what I need.”

“I… What can I do to help you, Mr. Thrombey.”

“Unfortunately, this isn’t a course that can be changed, even with the help of others.”

You were quiet a moment, looking down as you picked anxiously at your thumb. “I wish you had said something sooner.”

 “I didn’t want to make you worry, I think you worry too much as it is.”

“What are you going to do? Take time off?” Even as you asked the questions, you knew what the answer was going to be, but didn’t want to hear it.

“I will be selling the place I have in the city, and moving to my country estate. It’s peaceful there, makes it easy to disassociate after dealing with my spoiled children and their offspring,” He chuckled, folding his wrinkled hands. “Ransom will be officially taking over operations here, there will still be some things he will need my approval for, but he will be occupying my office from here on out.”

It was hard to keep your face from falling. Even if it wasn’t Ransom taking up Harlan’s seat, you would have still been upset. Harlan had always treated you so kindly, he was hands down the best boss you’ve ever had. He wasn’t your blood family, but he certainly felt like it.

“Please don’t look so dejected, darling. You will still have your job despite my own passing to another, and should it interest you, I’d love to have you come visit the estate. I think you’d quite like it. Especially in the Fall.” You squirmed a little, what could you say? It’s not like you could make him stay, and even if you could, it wouldn’t be right. Harlan needed to look out for his health, he would want you to do the same. Things were so pleasant in the office with Harlan heading the ship, you knew your job would sour with Ransom coming in, but would the rest of the employees suffer too?

“I’ll miss you, Harlan.”

His smile deepened, the use of his first name making his eyes twinkle. “I’ll miss you too, dear.”

The phone on his desk pierced the somber feeling in the room, chirping loudly as it called for attention. Your boss, or rather ex boss, excused himself as he picked it up, effectively ending the moment. 

Trudging to the break room with droopy ears, you felt like you were walking in a haze. Realistically, you had known this moment was coming, but somewhere in your mind you began to believe it never would. You poured yourself a cup of lukewarm coffee, the taste wasn’t really what you were after anyways, it was unlikely you were even going to drink the rindy mixture. You needed something to busy your hands as a distraction, there was no point trying to do any work, nothing would get done with the mood you were now in. 

You suddenly felt a sharp pull on your tail, a started bleat escaping you as your hand goes to soothe the assaulted extremity. The attacker leaned onto the counter beside you, a pleased smirk on his face; it was a mystery how you hadn’t smelled Ransom’s overpriced cologne when he walked in.

“What an amusing sound, hopefully I’ll get to hear it more during my time here.” All you could do was frown at him, his tone comedic as if the joke was something you would want to join in on. You didn’t respond as you went back to dumping sugar in your unappetizing drink, Ransom apparently took this as an invitation to keep talking. “I think I might have had one of your siblings for dinner last night, chops, paired quite well with red wine.” He paused, scooting closer so you had no other choice but to acknowledge him. “I wondered if you’d taste just as good, what do you think? Would you be tender and juicy, little lamb?” You don’t know what, out of everything he said, made you feel sickest. His voice had dropped low, like he was sharing a secret with you but instead of making you feel thrilled it only made you feel slimy. 

You turned your face away from him, hiding the growl that curled your lips and puffed the fur of your tail and ears. “Do you want something, Ransom?”

“I don’t remember giving you permission to call me that, and I much prefer hearing something more respectful coming from your mouth.” He grew irritated when you continued to not meet his eyes, grabbing your upper arm he roughly turned you to face him. “As your new boss I’ll let it slide as a show of good faith, do it again and I won’t be so forgiving. Same goes for the stunt you pulled down in the design department.” Your skin crawled under the sinister look he wore, the snake-like smile he had given you that day coming to the forefront of your mind. “I’ll leave you to your shitty coffee, little lamb.” He let go of you with a shove, sauntering out of the room; you could feel the searing print of his hand on your arm for the rest of the day.

AN: I hope you enjoyed, this is my first time writing Ransom and I was a wee bit nervous, so if you have any critiques or advice on how I can write him in the future let me know. Part two is already underway in my drafts!

[makethemhoesmad]

Sorry this took me a minute to officially get out and so sorry if it’s bad. This is my first time actually releasing my writing for anyone to read other than me. It’s also kinda short because 1) I only worked on it for around a weekish and the latest episode parts of the night 2) I really wanted to get at least the prologue out before the end of the week which I did so yay me! But honestly if you have any tips, critiques or recommendations for the next part I will really appreciate it!! Enjoy lovelys🫶

🪐

(this has also not been proof read or really edited once I officially finish part one I will probably re-do this I have just been busy and wanted to get this done. I’m also not 100% sure about the title so if you have a opinion on that lmk babe)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Take me home

prologue: Beginning of the end

Pairing: paige bueckers x Azzi fudd

Themes: promptly fluff

Warnings: none that i’m aware of!

June 26th 2018

(Paige’s pov)

It was the final week of the rounds for try-outs for team USA when we were split into two teams that we would be on this week. Some of the girls on my team I recognized from the previous try-out days.

There was one girl I didn't recognize, but she was pretty good from what i’ve seen. There wasn't any denying she was going to make the team. As I watched the girl walk over to the water table I had convinced myself to go and talk to her.

“Hey i’m paige” I extend my hand out giving the briefly smaller girl, who’s currently sliding on the jerseys we got during the beginning of try-outs.

"Oh" The girl slightly jumped. "Um sorry hi, Azzi" She smiled reaching her hand out to meet mine.

Her smile immediately lights up the room instantly causing me too return one to the slightly shorter girl. Once our hands meet the feeling of warmth they bring to my normally cold hands, and the instant feeling of comfort she brings me.

"-uh Paige?" Bringing me back from whatever I was a soft, and gentle voice calling out my name.

"Sorry, zoned out for a minute" I responded with a reassuring smile trying not to make it awkward. "But uh, Azzi like Jennifer Azzi?"

"Yeah, actually it is" Her comforting smile now bigger than before she explains while I just listen throwing in my thoughts here and there to keep our conversation afloat. But before I knew it, it had already been fifteen minutes and we were about to start practicing.

"-But uh fun fact! you’re the first person outside of my family to know where I got my name from" The now grinning girl confessed as we were walking to the baseline.

By the time we reached the other side of the court we then started running simple exercises and drills. Which had eventually got tiring enough before coach had finally ended today’s session.

"Okay ladies good practice, remember to get some rest and be prepared for tomorrow we will be splitting up starting tomorrow. And I believe that is all I have for you, you are dismissed" Coach explained for the following day officially ending practice.

Before leaving I caught up to the girl currently walking ahead of me before stopping her. "I think it's cool you know" I looked at the girl in front of me with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Your name. I think it's cool that you're named after someone that good" I couldn't help but smile at the girl before walking out of the arena in the hot summer air.

ahh! it’s finally out once again i’m sorry if it didn’t reach any expectations so please please let me know your thoughts and would appreciate your feedback! bye babe🫶

ong rhis is amazing

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hi! These matchups you do are really fun so I thought I’d give it a go :)

What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why?

I’m a Megan Thee Stallion fan! I love her songs, they get me so pumped. Right now I love one of her older songs Plan B. It makes me feel confident and reminds me not to take sh*t from anyone!

“Ladies, love yourself 'cause this shit could get ugly That's why it's, "Fuck n***** get money" And I don't give a fuck if that n**** leave tonight. Because, n****, that dick don't run me”

What is your Enneagram type?

I’m an ENFP :)

Do you love gargantuan Youtube video essays, and if so, which is your favorite and why?

Yes I do! I love to listen to them like a podcast while I scroll on Pinterest or draw. I enjoy watching Wendigoon. I’m a horror gal so I love urban legends and creepy stuff. My particular favorite is “The Deal With The Devil That Created Rock And Roll”

Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend.

never had one

What is your go-to way to fall asleep?

Listening to bf asmr or reading some fanfics

If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why? (In tandem, if you have changed your name, why did you pick that one?)

The funny thing about my name is that nobody calls me by my government one. It’s one of those long, slightly formal names. So when I was baby I was given a nickname. Now everyone in my life knows me by that nickname. I didn’t pick it, but i like my nickname and I feel like it fits :)

What is your favorite of Redacted’s audios, and why?

Oooh that’s a hard choice. I like so many of them. But I’d have to pick Gavin’s first confession audio. It’s so sweet and I’m a sucker for confessions.

What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don’t get the hype for. (I won’t judge, I promise.)

Hmm, I think Asher. just doesn’t appeal to me. I think our personalities are too similar

Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to.

”The Parent Trap” with Linsey Lohan! or “Clueless”

Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend?

I think Guy. He’d be a fun bestie, and he’d make me cry laughing

Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you’re tired, and if so, what is it? (For example, my boyfriend knows I’m ready to sleep when I start talking about space.)

Not rlly. I get more quiet when I’m sleepy.

Tell me your go-to gas station and drink combo.

Combo pretzel and cheese chips and a Coke!

Tell me about your favorite playlist at the moment. 

It’s titled ‘Bad Bitch’ and it’s filled with Kim Petras, Twice, Kali Uchis, and ofc Megan Thee Stallion :)

What’s your guilty pleasure media, and why?

Cheesy rom coms and romance books. Also Studio Ghibli movies

Extra info:

I’m an extrovert

I love the sunshine x grumpy trope

I’m a fashion girlie and I must have a cute outfit at all times if I’m going out

that’s all, thank you!

Easy peasy! I think you and your match would have a lot of shared interests, but it’s the love of fashion that cinched it. There’s no better match for that than Gavin.

Like, literally, you’d like so many of the same things; horror, K-pop, Megan Thee Stallion, romance novels. The music especially is such a fun thing you two share; he knows all the choreography, maybe even all the words. (I think he’s a Girls Generation fan if I had to pick. Given his age, I think Gavin stans the classics.) You also share a book collection, the incubus often getting saucy and using them as inspiration or quoting them.

All in all, you’re a very compatible couple, an extroverted pair who looks good together. I can see y’all going on really cute mall dates, thrifting cute clothes, buying new books, going to see the new horror movie of the week, and Gavin laughing at it to everyone in the theater’s surprise. (Because of his demonic, supernatural nature, I like to hc Gavin as enjoying horror but not being scared by it in the least.) (Also, I really love that both of you go by nicknames instead of your birth names; it’s meant to be.)

Song:

I'm talkin' all around clock/ I'm talkin' hope nobody knocks/ I'm talkin' opposite of soft/ I'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts/ You gotta keep up with me/ I got some young energy/ I caught the L-O-V-E/ How do you do this to me?

Once you get Gavin properly acclimated to pop culture and music, he becomes the king of it, always his finger on the pulse. I love to think of him as a pop idol, Sabrina Carpenter fan- especially of this fun, flirty song and how it’s performed. He loves to play this while doing chores around the house, coming up with his own naughty refrains like how Sabrina does during live performances.

Runner-ups:

Given your love of fashion, I had to put Milo somewhere in your big three. Anton, in contrast, is a runner-up because of how adorably you’d contrast. I love a good introvert/extrovert pairing, and I really get a giggle out of imagining Anton flustered at hearing WAP for the first time.

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[twicesonnet]

AO3 Wrapped: Writer's Edition

Big thank you to @cheesenames for tagging me!

Words written this year: 43,374

Works written this year: 7

Work Most Proud of: learn to kill — it was my first time publishing fic in Luke’s voice, and I thought I had a real command over the setting and atmosphere in it, plus was able to do all the fun stuff with their characters when they don’t know they’re related. also, the writing is good!

Work with Most Hits: good soldiers— this makes sense since it’s the only multi-chapter fic I wrote this year. the data is skewed! learn to kill has the highest kudos.

Fav title: not the crowd, not winning I love to use a song lyric that really works for all aspects of the fic, this one is from Big Thief’s “Not”

Pairing You Wrote the Most For: technically Leia/Han, with two fics, but its pretty background in sleep for the dead. I tend not to write very consistently for any one pairing. it’s startling to me that I only wrote two femslash pairings this year, usually that number is a lot higher

What Work was the Quickest To Write: not the crowd, not winning. I think I wrote it all in an afternoon.

What Work Took You Longest To Write: probably Return to the World After the World which is crazy because it’s a rare pair fic in a fandom that’s been both dead and deeply problematic since 2019.

How Many WIPS do you have for next year: I’ve got something for Slow Horses in the can, and also the last chapter of soldiers

Longest Work of the Year: good soldiers

Shortest Work of the Year: meeting place

Fav character to Write: Leia Organa is my favorite most beautiful and complicated and just and tragic character in all of star wars. her smoking hot pragmatism, intelligence and stubbornness are the cog many of my fics revolve around and I’m never going to get tired of writing her

Which work of yours have you re-read the most: maybe a day in the sun ? or Return to the World After the World — again something I wrote basically only for myself (and apparently 11 other ppl)

- 17. Total Kudos, Total Hits, Total Bookmarks This Year, Total Subscriptions This Year: yeah, I'm also not feeling compelled by the stats questions

What Do You Listen To While Writing: Various ambient albums on YouTube. Aphex Twin. The fabulous Masayoshi Takanaka, with one of the best john williams jazz covers in existence, Turkish Electro Funk Güzel Mix 1 and 2, Boards of Canada, Andor Niamos Theme 10 Minute loop, etc.

Fav line or passage: this is hard! my first thought was this passage from a day in the sun, a modern AU where Padmé’s just died, from Sabé’s perspective. it gets crazy guys you should read it.

Padmé and Tsabin had talked many times as ostensibly agnostic children of atheist parents (nonpracticing Jews for Padme, lapsed Catholics for Tsabin) about becoming nuns together. They both knew so little— it was a fantasy of cloistered forests, marble and incense. Old books. And time alone, unwatched, with each other. Religion smelled like Padmés hair after a long day in the sun together, and mint from her parent’s tiny brownstone backyard. It did not smell like whatever this is. Death, probably.  She sits in the front pew in the little chapel. The polished dark wood is slippery under her dress. She tips her head back and closes her eyes. She wishes sometimes she felt protected or calm in places of worship. She felt awe once in those big European churches, when her father took her to England when she was young. But awe was not a gentle emotion. She feels something like it now, like being immersed in a cataclysm of dark water. Muted. Afraid.  She wants it to be a dream so badly. She would give almost anything for it to be a dream. 

Any mutuals who feel so called should give this a shot! But here are some people off the dome @kleyamarki @bettyxrosex @linearao3

[weirdkpopgirl]

Too Much | Chenle Imagine #3

Title: Too Much

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Warnings: mentions of a breakdown (yes another one), and good old stress

Word Count: 671

Author's Note: So um I did write this based on recent experience from my first job. I just added Chenle to it, partly because I love writing stuff for Chenle. Even though he isn't my bias (sorry Chenle), I think having someone like him in my life would be nice. Also thank you for all your kind words from my last post. I just get really annoyed with myself and especially my writing. But thank you for reading and listening to my tiny rants 😅.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Chenle’s attention on the television moved away when he heard the clicking noise from inserting the passcode into the front door. The dimmed light of the room barely allowed him to see your figure come through the doorway. After kicking off your worn-out sneakers, Chenle could hear your soft footsteps padding across the wooden floor.

He barely felt your body sink on the couch cushion beside him. Your neatly tied ponytail from the morning was now droopy. Despite the lack of light in the room, Chenle could make out the faint dark circles under your eyes. 

“You should’ve just gone home to rest if you were tired,” He sighed. His hand reached to cup the right side of your face.

You didn’t say anything for a moment. But Chenle saw the stress screaming from your eyes. He didn’t need to ask if you were okay because he knew the answer. Eventually, you did speak. 

“I quit my job.” The four words fell from your lips with subtle despondency.

Somehow that sentence alone was able to set off the waterworks. The fresh tears almost burned as they streamed down your cheeks. A second didn’t even pass before Chenle’s arms were wrapped around you in a much-needed embrace. For once, the loud boy was silent. His hand quietly patted your back, as you softly sobbed into your hands.

Eventually, he noticed Daegal pawing at his legs. Then he smiled and picked up the small white dog to bring her to your face. Giggles would quickly erupt when you felt her tiny pink tongue lick across your knuckles. 

“I don’t know why I’m crying.” You pulled away slightly to grab a tissue from the coffee table and blew your nose. “I should be happy I won’t have to deal with all the crap I get at work after this month.”

Chenle’s lips parted as he gently put Daegal back on the floor. “It’s probably because you’ve been holding in all this stress from your stupid boss until now.”

You laughed again, impressed by your boyfriend. He knew you better than yourself. 

“You’re only eighteen, (Y/n)-ah.” He cupped your cheek again to wipe away any leftover tears. “You’re not Wonder Woman or Captain Marvel. You don’t have to carry all this weight on your shoulders.”

You shook your head in slight denial. “Everything has been too much lately. But I seriously thought I could hold it in a little longer.”

“You shouldn’t have to. Your boss is an idiot for losing such a strong and brilliant employee.” Chenle spoke as if he was stating the obvious. “Now you can find a place that knows and appreciates your value.”

You soaked in your boyfriend’s words, ultimately knowing he was right. No matter how much you hated yourself, you had to admit that these past months have contributed to your declining mental health.

“Thank you…for saying that and being by my side,” You sniffed a few minutes later. “What would I do without you?”

A snarky comment was on the tip of Chenle’s tongue. But he held back, knowing that’s not what you needed right now. He stared intensely into your eyes for a moment before placing a kiss on your forehead. Shortly after, he’d move down to your lips. You felt his warm lips brush against yours in light, heart-fluttering pecks. Until the sixth one, where he properly connected your lips into one long and slow kiss.

These intimate moments with Chenle were rare. But when you did share them, you felt closer to the singer than you were before. The two of you were able to communicate in a way that was almost telepathy. Chenle had become an expert in reading the emotions you weren’t even aware of. Perhaps, this was one of the reasons you and him were so compatible.

The rest of the evening turned into an unofficial binge-watching k-dramas date. That was how you two woke up the next morning being in the comfort of each other’s arms.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

[ananke-xiii]

From Epic to Tragedy to ... Epic, I guess? Or why Supernatural Season 6 is the most important season of all (pt 1).

Do I have your attention? Yes, good. But just so you know it'll be long and in installments and maybe it makes sense or maybe not.

Yes, I know the title is a tiny bit incendiary but I promise I have a point to make.  

So, my idea: I posit that SPN S1-5 are inherently an epic narrative with a tragic tone while S6, in an unexpected turn of events, heavily shifts the show towards a tragic narrative with an epic tone. S6 creates a great divide within the narrative itself that the show is ultimately unable to resolve. On one hand Sam will “carry on” the epic narrative, on the other Castiel will “swan dive” to his (many) tragic endings. S8-11 arc correctly identifies Dean as the character who's able to mitigate the divide and bring the two narratives together. However, the pervy obsession Chuck has with Deanthe show simply refuses to do so, consequently S12 introduces Jack (as an absent character but we already know from S11 The Mother as an Archetype is now alive and well in the unfridged Mary so the emergence of The Son is something clear from the very ending of the previous season) as the character most likely to resolve the narrative. However, S13-15 arc fails because it wants to do too many things at the same time. The "funny" thing is that, as a result, all characters just seem to be extremely tired of The Journey, The Quest, the obstacles, they all start screaming "Catharsis!" but it's still not given to them (hello Chuck!). By the time Cas makes the deal with The Empty the audience feels the impending tragedy and it's partially given to them, although... The show doesn't mend "The Rupture" between the two narratives, Cas dies as a tragic hero, Sam as an epic hero and Dean and Jack will remain in their limbo (a limbheaven, I guess? lol) but in substantially different positions. I personally think that this is what led to the audience’s conflicted response about the finale: ultimately the scale was tipped off in favor of the tragic narrative but the audience was eventually given the epic narrative ending.  

Premise: this is my very first attempt at writing what in my mind, I hope, will turn out to be an analysis, a meta if you will, about Supernatural. I stand on the shoulders of giants and I myself am a microscopic ant but, you know, there’s room for everyone even for a little ant like me. I want to write down my thoughts and share them with strangers on the internet because 1) if I keep all my ideas trapped inside my head I’ll explode; 2) writing them down helps holding my spiraling mind down; 3) I thrive when people listen to my convoluted thoughts and share their opinions and we all have heated chats and sometimes I end up hating those people because they’re right but also I fall in love with their minds lol.  

Finally, please just remember that I’m also just a girl, sitting in front of a laptop, asking you to not come at me.

Part 1: Or where I posit that SPN s1-5 are inherently an epic narrative with a tragic tone…

Tell me, O Muse, of the man of many devices…

After the Pilot, the first SPN episode starts with two guys playing a videogame. One tells the other that he’s cheating; the other replies that he’s just smart. Interesting. The third guy we see (Guys! Guys! Guys!) is sending a video to his girlfriend and oh, look! He’s reading “The Hero with a Thousand Face” written by Joseph Campbell.

In less than 10 seconds the show is literally telling us everything we need to know: we’re dealing with Young Males, An Adventure, Trials, Obstacles… and with the completion of the journey (just like the videogame: overcome all your obstacle until you win). Basically, the show is an epic narrative. More specifically, it’s an epic narrative like The Odyssey. Well, actually, no. It’s more like The Telemachy. The Telemachy is the first 4 books of the Odyssey where Telemachus leaves Ithaca for the first time to look for his Absent Father. Sounds familiar? By the way, to this day I can’t help but feel deep admiration when I realize that The Odyssey is the story of The Absent Father and it starts off… precisely with his absence! Just like Supernatural, LOL.

Necessary aside: as if this was not already enough S10E5 Fan Fiction gifts us with what I find is the most brilliant meta ever metaed on SPN (and no, I’m not talking about the fan fiction part). In this episode we find out that the MOTW is… *drums roll* CALLIOPE!!! The muse who presides over EPIC POETRY! And she wants to EAT The Author (and, in hindsight the fact that the Real Author is God… I mean, possibly Calliope was THEE monster that they really shouldn’t have killed lol). As if this was not enough… Maggie hits Calliope with… The Odyssey! Robbie Thompson was VIBING when he was writing this episode, I’m telling you!

Okay so now going back to my main point. Supernatural epic has a very distinct tragic tone. The Absent Father does return like Odysseus (end of S1) but he can’t stay (beginning of S2): in order for the Adventure to continue The Father must die (unlike the Odyssey where Father and Son unite to defeat the enemy and Return to The Ordinary World Together). After all, this is not The Odyssey, it’s The Telemachy where The Hero is not The Father but The Son.

So know let’s talk about The Son. The Epic Hero in Supernatural is Sam Winchester. He’s the one marked at birth by the story, aka The Special Kid with Psychic Powers of S2. This is the second half of the “Challenges and temptations” phase of the Hero’s Journey culminating with The Revelation and the subsequent Death&Rebirth. Sam will have to go through this cycle a lot because his own role commands it. He has to face the Abyss and then come out of it otherwise the story can’t progress. Occasionally, he’ll have to step outside the Special World into the Ordinary World (The Normal Life) even though he has not completed all the stages because the story needs to reboot and if The Hero goes back to the Ordinary World having completed all the stages then the story is over. This is why after 15 (FIFTEEN!) season it might feel (or, as I should say, I feel because people here largely disagree) that Sam’s arc is.. well, not exactly something that varies over time. It’s not the character’s fault: he’s just drawn that way (because the show refused to let go of this trite and old Hero’s Journey cycle but this is a topic for another time, hello Chuck, ya basic!). So Sam, The Son. S3 Sam faces the challenges of possibly losing his brother so The Quest is trying to save Dean. Of course, this won’t happen (as previously stated, Sam needs a continuous Quest because he’s an Epic Hero) so we’re back at square one in S4-5 with the demon blood, the 66 sigils and, ultimately, Lucifer and the apocalypse.

Sam is the Epic Hero, special by birth, called back to the Adventure by his brother, quick learner, intelligent and warrior-like, overcomer of obstacles, trials and (maybe to a lesser degree lol) temptations and capable of facing the Abyss. I like the fact that he's definitely not The Perfect Hero because his many flaws make him more compelling and fascinating. Speaking of flaws, there's one thing that Sam lacks. Sure, like all characters on every TV show he has a need, a desire AND a fatal flaw. However, there is a fatal flaw and THE fatal flaw: hamartia.

Hamartia is the tragic flaw, the character's very own trait that brings about his very own downfall. How do we know that Sam lacks this very specific trait? Because he never experiences utter and total ruin brought about by his and his own only hands.

However, there is a certain character, the one and only character that dares to "make it up as [he goes]", that committs a huge mistake, and he errs not because of some events, not because of some circumstances, possibly not even because of God's will: he just makes decisions that trigger cosmic consequences...

I wonder who could it be...

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

Tell a Story With a Taste- Jasco pt 1

THE JASCO REVIVAL IS UPON US!! Here's the first chapter of the Cooking Channel AU. The title comes from Waitress the Musical, thank you to Juno and Luna for the suggestion (since y'all sent the exact same suggestion at the same time lmao)

Read on ao3

“What should I bring to Deja’s dinner party?” Bosco asked both her roommates as she looked at the text invite on her phone. 

“Some nice napkins would be good,” Daya responded, not looking up from her laptop. 

“Maybe some extra Tupperware, too,” Willow added from her place on the recliner, looking through the Netflix menu. 

“I meant as in food.” Bosco said with a sigh, “I can’t just show up to a potluck with decorative napkins and call it a day.” 

Her two roommates looked over to her spot on the couch, “It’s better than potentially giving our friends food poisoning.” Willow said. 

“I’ve never given anyone food poisoning, thank you very much.”

“Only because Kerri realized that the chicken you made was still raw and nobody wanted salmonella,” Daya said as she closed her laptop. “My sister said that Jo-Ann’s has some seasonal napkins on sale this week. Maybe bring some fake flowers, too,” she said with a smirk.

“You two are hilarious,” Bosco sarcastically said, sitting up hoping to be taken more seriously. “I’m not that bad at cooking.”

“We barely trust you alone with the toaster, and the microwave is still questionable,” Willow said, settling on an old thriller movie. 

Bosco watched the beginning of the movie absent-mindedly as she thought to herself for a few moments.

 It’s not that she always hated cooking, she just never needed to learn how to do it. Growing up, she was never interested in watching how dinner was made every night. Her parents taught her older sister, Irene, how to cook before moving out, but she was never interested in joining.  

As she watched the killer in the movie take its first victim, a realization hit her. 

It’s never too late to learn, and the internet was right at her fingertips. 

After the movie finished, Bosco snuck off to her room and told her roommates that she was going to bed early. “I have an early shift tomorrow, and I need sleep.” Luckily Daya and Willow didn’t ask any questions and wished her goodnight. 

Pulling out the laptop she rarely used and settling herself on the bed, Bosco stared at the Google homepage. 

She wasn’t sure where to start for her search, maybe ordering cookbooks? Or watch the Food Network? She had no idea how other people taught themselves how to cook. 

A couple of hours into reading some unhelpful articles of easy beginner recipes and advertisements for meal delivery kits, Bosco’s eyes grew tired as she needed a break. 

The living room was dark again as Bosco entered the kitchen for a quick snack before trying to tackle Google again. Settling on a couple of pieces of cold pizza and La Croix, she walked back to her bedroom but bumped into a taller body in the hall. 

“Shit, sorry.” Daya held her phone horizontally and pulled out one of her Air Pods with her free hand, “I was watching this YouTube video and didn’t hear you come out.” she said, but part of the explanation caught Bosco’s attention.

“Wait, YouTube?” she asked. It was somewhere she usually used to listen to true crime videos as background noise, but maybe it could help her now.

“Yeah, I found this guy that does these video essays that are five hours long about-” Bosco stopped paying attention to her roommate’s long explanation as she quickly said that she needed to get something done. 

Opening YouTube on her web browser and searching through the recommended channels, Bosco narrowed down the list of videos that popped up as she ate.

 Some people in the videos talked too much and didn’t show much about cooking. Others were recreating food from different movies and TV shows it looked too complicated for her level. 

Growing tired of clicking through all the videos and trying different channels, Bosco let the videos play on autoplay as she lay down and pulled the computer on her chest. 

Her eyes grew heavier, and just as she considered going to sleep. Her thoughts were halted by peppy instrumental music, followed by two meows before the actual video played.

A young blonde woman appeared on screen in a clean, but small kitchen. She had baby pink utensils and pans displayed behind her as she spoke to the camera. 

‘Hi everyone, and welcome back to my kitchen! My name is Jasmine, and today we are going to make some lemon chicken with orzo pasta. We’re going to be making my usual creamy sauce to go with this. But if you need a refresher on anything, you can find my Basics series in a playlist on my channel.”

Learning the basics was a better place to start. Bosco paused the video and clicked on the channel, and there was a pink banner that said Jasmine’s Kitchen in bubbly font with two drawn cats. Jasmine’s profile picture was her in an apron with printed cats, posing with a mixing bowl and smiling. 

Bosco found this girl in the video cute, so she wouldn’t mind learning from a pretty girl on how to cook. 

She spent the rest of the evening watching most of Jasmine’s basics series and taking notes on an old notebook from the bottom of her closet. Just as the time was approaching three in the morning, Bosco’s hand was starting to cramp up from writing. With that, she decided that it was finally time for bed. 

As she fell into a dreamless sleep, her mind wandered to making egg yolk ravioli and creating the fluffiest souflés in the future someday. 

“Why do you need my kitchen right now?” 

“Because if I use my own, my roommates will never let me hear the end of it. I just need a place to practice.” Bosco told her sister, standing outside the apartment's open front door. She had two full grocery bags from the grocery store down the street. 

Irene tilted her head in confusion, “Practicing?” she looked at the paper bags of groceries. “Wait, are you teaching yourself how to cook?”

Bosco nodded, “I’m tired of getting shit on from my friends for it. I need to show them I can learn to cook and make it good.” 

“Learning to cook out of pettiness? That’s my little sister.” Irene smirked, letting her into the apartment. “Just clean up after you’re done and don’t mess with Sugar’s baking stuff,” she said as Bosco entered the kitchen. 

After setting out her ingredients and finding a cutting board and knife, Bosco put in her Air Pods and started playing one of the saved tutorials from Jasmine’s channel. It was time to get to work. 

Three bandaids and a bowl of chopped onions later, Bosco was looking to find the next video she needed when another person entered the kitchen. 

“These look pretty bad.” she turned to see Irene’s other partner picking out a piece of onion from the bowl. 

“Luxx, thank you, but you aren’t being helpful, ” Bosco said with a sigh. 

But they were right, the onions didn’t look at all like they did in the video. Jasmine’s were all uniform and evenly cut, while her own looked like she used a machete and a blindfold and hoped for the best. 

Luxx reached into the cupboard and took out an onion, placing it on the cutting board. “First of all, you’re using the wrong knife,” they explained as they took a knife from the butcher’s block and the sharpener. 

After swiping the knife on the sharpening rod a few times, Luxx swiftly cut the onion in half. Stepping away and leaving the knife and half the onion, they looked to Bosco. “Show me how you’re doing it. Watching a pretty YouTuber can only get you so far with this.”

Now under someone’s watchful eye, Bosco nervously cut the onion. It still looked uneven, and she had to pick the skin pieces out. They looked the same as the ones in the bowl. 

“Okay, you need baby steps,” Luxx said as Bosco stepped away to watch. 

“First cut off both ends, it’ll be easier to peel,” Luxx explained as they worked slowly to show the other girl.  “Once all the skin is off, start at the end, and make thin slices.” They made an effort to show how to tuck their fingers to prevent accidentally cutting themselves. Once they reached the halfway point, they handed the knife back, handle first. “Now you try.” 

“Okay…” Bosco said with caution and sliced the onion as Luxx showed her. The slices didn’t look perfect but they looked much better than when she tried to learn on her own.

Even if it was a small accomplishment, Bosco felt herself beaming with pride. She felt like cooking seemed like an actual task that she could be good at. 

“So can we move onto the cooking step of this?” she asked, looking at the pans stacked near the stove. 

“How about we work on cutting bell peppers next, and then we’ll see if you’re ready for the stove.” 

Bosco frowned, but new baby steps would be the best way for her to tackle this. 

Daya and Willow will never know what’ll hit them when the time comes. 

[sissytobitch10seconds]

all i need is to come home to you

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Summary: Luther is sick and tired of being alone on the moon. He's going to change his life on his own terms instead of letting his father shape it. Warnings: Canon-typical child abuse and pseudo-incest Word Count: 3,915 Ship(s): Luther Hargreeves/Viktor Hargreeves

Archive link!

A/N: So google docs uploaded and this summary was not the one I had originally, lol. I hope that it was enough to draw some people in and I hope this fic is worth it! Also, the title of this fic is from Rule #2 - Moonlight by Fish in a Birdcage. I hope you guys enjoy it! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

all i need is to come home to you

An Umbrella Academy Fanfiction

A Viktor Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves Fanfiction

By Sissytobitch10seconds

Showing search results for ‘Luther Hargreeves: 2018’

Four files found: AC/MC Correspondence Logs 2018.pdf, Effects of Ape Genomes on Superhuman Bodies.docx, The Umbrella Academy: Where Are They Now?.png, Locations of Moon Samples.docx

Select AC/MC Correspondence Logs.pdf? Yes/No

Accessing requested file…

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Annihilation Control to Mission Control Correspondence - 6/4/18 02:48-03:01

AC: Dad

MC: That is not how you are meant to speak to your overseeing director, Number One. Please try again.

AC: Cut the shit. I can’t do this anymore.

MC: Please explain yourself, Number One. Frivolous calls are what is going to ruin the mission, combined with your insistence on sharing unneeded facts during your log records.

AC: You don’t read those, Grace does. She probably made some comment about it to you when she was serving you dinner. And I just told you, I can’t do this. I need you to get me someone or I’m going to walk outside into space without my fucking helmet on.

MC: Number One! There is no need for such crass language, please refrain from speaking towards me that way again

AC: Can you just shut up for one second and actually listen to me? Maybe there’s a reason that I’ve been including stupid shit like that in my logs. 

MC: And what reason would that be, Number One?

AC: I’m not going to talk to you, not if you’re going to be like this.

MC: You’re the one that called me, Number One. Outside of the usual parameters and with such crass language, no less!

AC: Let me talk to [Viktor].

MC: Absolutely not.

AC: If I don’t get to talk to [Viktor] then I’m going to follow through with my threat. It would be super shitty if the youngest person to ever go to space ended up killing himself under the great Reginald Hagreeves’ care. I’ve been trained with all the space shit. Maybe I should just not patch the next oxygen leak that the control center gets.

MC: How soon do you need to speak with [him]?

AC: As soon as you can get [him].

---

Annihilation Control to Mission Control Correspondence - 6/6/18 13:00-14:06

AC: What do you want?

MC: Uh, hello?

AC: Oh. Hello.

MC: Is this Luther? I’m sorry, I don’t know how this works and no one will explain it to me.

AC: That’s okay [Viktor] I don’t expect you to know how this works. Truth be told, I thought that this was a call from Dad to see if I had actually followed through. I wasn’t expecting him to be able to get to you like I wanted him to.

MC: Well he did. It was kind of a surprise for me too. I mean, you had never shown an interest in wanting to talk to me before. 

AC: Back when I was at home?

MC: Back when all of us were at home. It always seemed like you liked Allison better than the rest of us.

AC: How is she? Allison?

MC: What was the last thing that you heard about her?

AC: The last thing that I heard about her was when I was back on earth. I used to get newspapers so that I could keep up to date with current events, but they stopped coming after the first year up here.

MC: Wait, you haven’t had anything new to read in three years?

AC: Two, but yes.

MC: What have you been doing to keep yourself occupied, then?

AC: What do you care, [Viktor]?

MC: You’re the one that wanted to call me, Luther. If you didn’t really want to talk to me then you should have asked Dad for Allison. And if you just wanted someone to argue with then you should have asked for Diego. I don’t know why you chose me out of all of our siblings, but I have my own life and job that I am currently missing out on to talk to you. So if you’re not going to be nice to me then I’m not going to talk to you.

AC: Wait, [Viktor]. I’m sorry that I snapped at you. I think it’s harder for me to interact with people outside of the standard conversations that Dad and I have when he calls every week to make sure that I’m still handling the maintenance of the shuttle well enough. I just mentioned that I hadn’t had anything to do while up here, didn’t I?

MC: You did, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole.

AC: You’re right, I’m sorry.

MC: It’s okay. But I do think that you owe me an explanation for why you picked me out of all of our siblings.

AC: Well, I knew that Klaus has probably gotten into something more than what he was into when we were teenagers so it didn’t feel particularly safe to call him. We still don’t know where Five is and he would end up arguing with me far faster than Diego would. When Diego left, a little while after dad sent you away to college, he said that he wouldn’t step back into the house until Dad was dead. I didn’t think that it was worth it to even ask for him when he was so against it like that, I guess. 

MC: What about Allison?

AC: Can you tell me about her?

MC: Not until you tell me why you picked me instead of her. I think that if she knew that you had made that choice when she would skin me alive.

AC: She would never do that!

MC: She threatened to literally the entire year that we were fourteen. I think that she very much would.

AC: I forgot about that.

MC: It’s okay. I like hearing you laugh.

AC: Oh, thank you.

MC: Now tell me why you didn’t demand that Dad bring Allison to stave off your loneliness. 

AC: Well, the last that I was able to hear about her was that she was dating somebody new. She’s been dating a lot of people since I last saw her and she moved out to LA. It kind of hurt. You know, I caught her before she left. I caught almost everyone before they left for the last time, other than you.

MC: Did you catch Five?

AC: I thought that you wanted to hear my story about Allison.

MC: Right, sorry.

AC: Anyway, as I was saying. I caught her before she had the chance to leave and she told me what she was doing. When we were younger, we used to sneak back to our secret greenhouse the same way that you and Five would sneak to the music room. We talked for hours sometimes, but then she would also bring the Shakespear books that Mom forced us to read when we were supposed to be studying the classics. She would pick a main character that she wanted to play and then make me read the other lines so that she could practice. I wasn’t that shocked when she said that she wanted to go and be an actress in LA. I was really sad to see her go, but I knew that I couldn’t hold her back if I really loved her.

MC: That’s what they say in all of the songs, isn’t it?

AC: Yeah, I guess so. I haven’t gotten a new record in a really long time.

MC: I’ll see if I can get Mom to convince Dad to send you some of my favorites, if you’d like.

AC: I would… I would like that [Viktor]. Do you want to hear the rest of the story?

MC: Yeah, sorry for interrupting so much.

AC: No, it’s fine. If I only wanted to talk to myself then I wouldn’t have demanded that Dad find me someone. But, um, anyway. I let Allison go after she promised that she was going to write me so that I could keep up to date with her. She landed a main role in the first movie that she auditioned for, which I’m guessing that she might have used her powers for. I don’t like doubting that she has the ability to get it on her own merit, but I know that she didn’t like to do the hard work that the rest of us had to do. After that, the letters just stopped coming. The only way that I could figure out what was happening to her was through the tabloids and articles written about her.

MC: Me too.

AC: I guess after that I just figured that she didn’t want anything to do with me so I didn’t even try to contact her. I sent a few letters here and there when something big happened to her or I was able to sneak one of her movies into the Academy, but I never got anything back.

MC: So you two grew apart? I’ve heard that can happen to people who grew up together.

AC: I guess that kind of happened with us too, didn’t it?

MC: The difference is, we thought that you two were in love with each other. No one liked me so there was no doubt in my mind that none of you would ever reach out to me. Not since Five left when we were thirteen.

AC: I’m sorry, [Viktor].

MC: It’s okay, it’s not like it was just you.

AC: I… I suppose that’s true. I didn’t want to pick Allison because I don’t think that she would have responded to Dad’s call, and I can’t go another week without having something to look forward to.

MC: I’ll come back every week and talk to you then.

AC: I don’t want you to feel like you have to. One time was enough to keep me going for a while longer. Hopefully I’ll be able to actually come home soon.

MC: I hope so too. I have to go now, I really can’t stop putting off my work.

AC: I’ll hear from you in a week then.

MC: Mm hmm. I’ll get Dad to send you some more things to keep your mind busy too. You’re too intelligent to just be left up there twiddling your thumbs, Luther.

---

Annihilation Control to Mission Control Correspondence - 8/14/18 22:00-22:54

MC: Hello? Is someone there?

AC: I’m here, like I always am. Though apparently you’re not.

MC: I’m sorry, Luther. I really did try to make it on time. I’ve been having some trouble getting to and from the concerts that I’ve been doing in the past month and I missed the bus. When I actually got here, Dad said that you would be busy doing whatever mission he sent you up there for and that I couldn’t call you. I’m so sorry.

AC: [Viktor], I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry that I was so snappish. I should have figured that it had something to do with Dad.

MC: Is he still being as difficult as he was before?

AC: You’re actually dealing with him in person, you tell me.

MC: I was kind of hoping that he was going to be nicer to you when he called you. Mom said that he was sending you the records and books that I brought last month.

AC: He did, but the conversations that we have whenever I call back for my checks are awful. I guess I was kind of scared that he wasn’t going to let you call me anymore because you’re changing me.

MC: I’m changing you? According to you or according to him?

AC: According to us both. He mentioned it last week when I was asking where you were after you didn’t call me. I had some time to think about it while doing my missions because of how fucking monotonous they are. And he was right.

MC: Oh? Do tell.

AC: Well, you’ve made me actually think about the way that I treated you back when we were kids. It wasn’t right, and it was all his fault. That was the reason that I treated Diego like shit too. 

MC: What do you mean?

AC: Do you remember back when we were training together, before Dad made you stop watching us and spend more time with Mom? 

MC: Of course I do.

AC: Well after you left he started doing a lot more of what he had been doing before. He would tell Diego that he needed to try harder if he even wanted to be my shadow. It made me have this idea that Diego and the rest of the team was so far beneath me that none of them were ever going to have any kind of right to lead. I think that it might have been the reason that Ben died.

MC: What… what do you mean by that?

AC: I’m sorry, I know that’s a lot for you to handle. We never did tell you what happened during the Jennifer Incident, did we?

MC: You didn’t. I asked over and over again and no one would ever tell me.

AC: Well… It was kind of hard for us to think about because part of it was our fault. Ben wasn’t good at controlling the Horror because he was scared of it. That only got worse as we got older, probably because he had been seeing what kind of things it could do at that point, and we understood the permanence of death. Dad made sure that we didn’t think too hard about what we did on missions when we were younger than that. Uh, anyway. We were on a mission for Dad, like we almost always were. Then things started going south, I don’t remember all of the details. We were trying to save someone, I know that. I think that Ben had been sneaking out with Klaus to try and watch him but had ended up meeting someone named Jennifer.

MC: How do you know that?

AC: We were able to drag some of it out of Klaus when we brought his body back to the house. But anyway, she turned out to be at the building that the hostages were in. Ben went totally out of control, the Horror was feeding on his fear and using it to control him entirely. It turned on him and ripped him to shreds.

MC: I guess I can understand why you all never told me that. I’m not sure that I would have been able to handle it on the little bit of meds that I was on. I can kind of process anything on the higher dose that Dad put me on when I went to college.

AC: I was meaning to ask you about those. When I was thinking about all of the horrible decisions that Dad made for the team, I kept thinking about why he kept you around. 

MC: Wow, thank you, Luther.

AC: I mean, it’s not like he cared for any of us. He didn’t keep you around because he loved you, there has to be some other reason. Then I kept thinking about the meds. Why would Dad want to have a sickly child with no powers? You wouldn’t have shared any secrets about him if he had sent you away because he was very open about his training methods. At least, the ones that you were around to see.

MC: I guess he did always kind of treat me like an in between of the outside world and the inside one that he made.

AC: Exactly. So why does he have you on the medication? Viktor? Are you still there?

MC: Yeah, sorry, I think I just remembered something. Do you remember when I was four and Dad took me away?

AC: He said that you were sick. The only person that got to see you was Allison and she got in trouble for talking about it when you came back.

MC: I’m beginning to think that I wasn’t really sick. I think I’m going to start looking for another doctor so that they can wean me off of these meds healthily. Then we’ll see what’s really going on.

---

Annihilation Control to Mission Control Correspondence - 10/10/18 7:34-8:21

MC: Hello? Luther?

AC: [Viktor]? This isn’t the time that you usually call. Is everything okay?

MC: It’s more than okay! I have so much to tell you, so I need you to promise to wait until I tell you that I’ve finished before you start talking to me.

AC: Okay, I will.

MC: Promise?

AC: Promise.

MC: So I found another doctor, one that was outside of my insurance. It ended up being more okay than I thought it would be, doctor’s appointments without tests are inexpensive enough that I was able to manage it with the savings from my book deal. I convinced them that I didn’t want to be on the medication anymore and they helped wean me off. I started to notice some really interesting things after I stopped taking it, though.

AC: What kind of things?

MC: Luther!

AC: Right, shit, sorry.

MC: Anyways! As I was saying, I started noticing things. I thought that it was just a coincidence at first because my entire life I have thought that there was nothing special about me and never could be, but there is! At first it was things like raining when I was feeling upset about something, but then glass started breaking when I would get scared or have a panic attack. And Luther, I can hear way better than I did before. There are all these extra sounds that I had no idea existed before today. I was able to use it to sneak into the house and I found that little red book that Dad used to keep all of our training missions in. It turns out that I did have powers but they were really volatile, so Dad decided that he as going to lock them away instead of just manning up so that he could train me better. He also had Allison trick me into thinking that I was ordinary, which I think that we can both tell has had no lasting effects on my psyche at all.

AC: Is that sarcasm?

MC: Yes, Luther, it’s sarcasm.

AC: I like the way that your laugh sounds now. Not that it didn’t sound good before, but you actually sound happy now. Before it sounded like you were just kind of going through the motions.

MC: That’s because I was. The medication that I was on was a sedative because my powers are linked to my emotions. But I’m an adult now, so I can watch and handle them.

AC: Wow. It’s kind of hard to wrap my head around the fact that this is all real. I mean, that’s probably what Dad wanted in the first place, which was why he cemented the idea of you being different and ordinary in us throughout our entire childhood. What are you going to do now that you know you have powers?

MC: I’m going to get Dad to bring you home.

AC: You… you are?

MC: Of course, Luther. I want you to be able to be here to teach me how to shave when I get on hormones.

AC: Shave? [Viktor], I think you skipped a detail or two.

MC: Shit. Right. I was so excited to tell you about the fact that I had powers that I forgot to tell you about the other thing. It turns out that I’m a boy. I never had the chance to think about the things that would make me happy or who I was because of the Rumor and the medication. But now both have been broken over me and I know who I am. Is that okay?

AC: Screw shaving! I mean, I will still do that for you if you want me to, but I want to throw you a fucking party! This is amazing, you’re actually discovering things about yourself, just like me! We’ve officially broken the hold that the stupid old man had on us.

MC: I guess we have. Do you want to know the name that I picked out for myself?

AC: Of course I do. I want all of the details that you’re willing to give me.

MC: Viktor. My new name is Viktor.

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Annihilation Control to Mission Control Correspondence - 12/1/18 7:00-8:16

MC: Luther? Come in, Luther.

AC: You don’t have to talk like you’re actually Mission Control, Viktor. We’ve never done that with each other before.

MC: I thought that I would try it out, since I’m in charge of your mission now.

AC: You are? When did that happen?

MC: Pretty much immediately after I finished my last call with you. I know that I haven’t contacted you in a while, it took me a lot of time to figure out how to do what I wanted to.

AC: And what do you want to do with me?

MC: I’m bringing you home. The return rocket has left earth’s orbit and is going to be picking you up when it gets to the moon.

AC: Are you serious?

MC: I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Luther. I know everything that Dad did to you and it was so wrong. He had no right to turn your body into something that you didn’t recognize and then hide you in a base on the moon. I’m bringing you home and then you and I are going to figure out how we can have a real life, the kind that you wanted with Allison and I wanted with Five. Luther? You still there?

AC: If Five comes back will you leave me for him?

MC: I don’t see why I can’t have you both.

AC: I guess I should wait until I’m back on earth so that I can talk to you about this, but I’m worried that I’ll chicken out if I have to do it to your face. God, I don’t even know what you look like anymore.

MC: About the same as when my book came out, but my hair is short now. What is this about, Luther?

AC: When we had our first call, you asked me why I picked you out of all of our siblings. I never answered your question properly. The reason that I picked you out of all of our siblings was because you were the most kind. You also know what it’s like to be completely isolated from everything. I’m so, so sorry that we did that to you, Viktor. We were supposed to be your siblings, your family. More importantly, back then we were also supposed to be heroes. We were supposed to take care of people, that was quite literally in our job descriptions. But I think that the only thing that we actually ended up doing was killing whoever our father pointed us towards. We didn’t protect you, we didn’t protect other people, we didn’t protect Ben. You’re kind and wonderful and so heartfelt. I love you, Viktor.

MC: I love you too. Get home to me safe, okay?

AC: Okay.

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