#when i wake up i have to really lock in on drawing and stuff

[shokupanda]

me when time moves forward at a steady pace: how the fuck is it more than halfway through july already. this fuckers rapidly sprinting when im not looking huh

[digiflora]

╭┄──── 𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

featuring. genshin men 〆 wc. 1.2k

art creds. こは on twt 〆 contains. suggestiveness and brief smut!!, toxic fwb dynamics, jealousy

gia's notes. i drank too much coffee and now i feel sick and can't sleep ughhhhh 😞😞 n e ways enjoy these headcanons while i work on a proper fic (kinda) about this premise :3. i was gonna write more for this but then i kinda ran out of juice so... y'all rocking with this ⁉️⁉️

╰┄➤ ❝ request. anon 〆 HELLOOO I read your friends with benefits angst and IF UR COMFORTABLE WITH IT could u write if they found out you had someone else on the side as well? If they’d care, if they’d be bothered by it and just little headcanons and stuff, anyways, I hope u have a good day/night !!! 🎀❤️:3 ❞

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ HE’S COMPLETELY FINE WITH IT… RIGHT?

-these guys are your most dependable to get into a friends with benefits relationship with, simply because they’re very good at drawing a distinction between being around you to fuck and maybe cuddle afterwards, versus wanting something more

-and before this had all started, you had drawn out some very distinct ground rules

-one. if you start to catch feelings, tell the other person

-two. If you start fucking someone else, tell the other person

-three. ESPECIALLY if you’re doing it raw with number two

-and this has you wringing your hands pathetically in your lap, fingers twisting themselves into knots as you can barely meet the eye of the man that you had called to come over a mere twenty minutes ago

-he wasn’t stupid- the fact that you hadn’t yanked him into your place by his shirt before ripping it off of him made it clear that the nature of his visit was… not for the ordinary reason

-another great sign was the way your leg bounced incessantly, eyes darting everywhere in the room but him as you chewed at the edge of your thumbnail

-the silence was killing him, though, so he decided to put an end to it

-he calls your name, trying to be stern though you can both hear the playful edge to his voice. he also plants a warm hand on your knee, enough to make you finally look up into his eyes

-”you gonna tell me which rule we need to talk about today?”

-your eyes widen, gaze darting off to the side once again and he chuckles at your bashfulness

-fuck, had you really been so obvious?

“look, i understand, honestly i’d fall for me too if i were you, what with the way i fuck-”

-“-it’s rule two”

-and back to silence

-”ah. i see”

-you’re scanning his face now

-you weren’t even sure that you knew what you wanted him to be feeling right now. jealous? hesitant? indifferent?

-”and are there… any other rules you need to mention?” the silence hangs heavy in the air, any of the other numbers you could mention opening doors to such avenues that you firmly wanted locked right now

-”no”

-you look him in the eyes for this, again. you didn’t ave anything to hide

-and you watch with surprise at the honest to god grin that crosses his features, as if you had given him a birthday gift early

-”well,” he begins, shifting his weight to face you, knees brushing yours as his hand begins to travel further up, smoothing over your thigh

-”that’s a relief to hear”

-”it is?” you sound breathless, and he uses this as an excuse to lean in closer as if to hear you better, only to whisper his own words right into your ear

-”i must be your favourite, because you’re going to have to definitely mention that rule three to him”

-your scandalised retort dies on your lips when his head dips lower, lips and tongue latching onto your neck, tracing patterns and leaving love bites in his wake

-”thereee we go, that’s more like it,” he chuckles into your skin again, hands leveraging you onto his lap so that he can continue his ministrations

-he’ll have your brain so muddled by the end of tonight that you’ll question why you even needed a rule two in the first place

-and maybe, just maybe, when you do break things off with whoever he was, you’d need to stipulate a rule one as well

KAEYA, ayato, WRIOTHESLEY, capitano, itto, THOMA, zhongli

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ THE LOVERBOY… WHO’S DEFINITELY NOT HEARTBROKEN!!!

-sleeping with him, even in this little undisclosed fling, is sweet

-you can tell that he cares about you, more than whether you cum or not, and there’s adoration in his eyes when he runs his hands all over your body

-it’s enough to twist that little knife in your chest that much further every time he bites his lips when the two of you are making love

-(fucking, you would correct him hastily)

-you see how hard he fights to keep what he wants to say inside of him as you ride him, hips slow and sensual before slamming back down against his thighs

-you see the way his brows crease, his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels you clench around him, a strangled moan just managing to escape him

-and when he cums, deep inside you, you’re left with the cloying taste of guilt in your mouth when he kisses you feverishly before anything else, like a lover

-and it breaks your heart to do this, it really does, but you have to remind him that at the end of the day, you’re not exclusive

-”i’m seeing someone else”

-you try to slip it into a conversation as casually as possible

-the two of you are sat at his table, eating a meal that he had insisted on cooking for you, only candlelight illuminating the room, and some soft music playing in the background

-the scene felt so domestic that you were scared he would ask you to be his girlfriend any second now, and it just slipped out before he could get another word in

-you’re digging around your plate, pretending to fix yourself a forkful- he really was a good cook- though you can’t miss the way that he tenses in the corner of your vision

-your throat feels dry, and that knife just can’t quit twisting- but you need to make this distinction clear. for yourself. for him

-”i don’t know what to say”

-you quirk an eyebrow at this

-”really?”

-he pauses now, thinking, not enough to hide the hurt in his eyes. it’s injected into every feature of his, and he picks at his own plate now. the blade’s embedded deep in your chest, and it hurts now

-”i’m… sorry”

-you technically didn’t do anything wrong- you both agreed that this would be casual. but why did it feel like you had betrayed him?

-it’s an agonising silence as you both process what you just said. you’re not sure if he’ll ever speak again until you hear a hoarse voice croak out “i think that you should go”

-you didn’t have to look at him to tell that he was crying- you at least had the dignity to not mention it, to not fight it as you nod silently, feeling numb as he walks you to his door

-it all feels too final as he looks you in your eyes one last time, searching for something there before he looks crestfallen and sighs, beginning to close the door

-”goodbye, y/n. get home safe”

-you can only see the paint of his door now- some shuffling on the other end of it before you’re left utterly alone, stabbed clean through with the dripping mess of your grave mistake pooling at your feet

DILUC, neuvillette, CHILDE, dainsleif, ALHAITHAM, cyno, kaveh

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... she hold me down like gravity

[dustcrumbs]

Horrordust!!!

2 other vers below + LONGGG CONTEXT/story abt this drawing

without filter + no background at all

heh

@dreamy-fever helped with choosing background color :3c

@k1llercrumbs and @gayhorrorsans helped with the idea and revise it

Poorly explained by yours truly, Dustcrumbs.

story starts now!!

These two are taken into an omega timeline. Both saved from their Aus, which were either crumbling away, or they simply couldn't stay there anymore.

Horror was still in his fight or flight instincts. He was quite literally paranoid of everyone around him, soon that paranoia seeped into his relationship with his brother. Which soon caused him to stay away from people altogether and avoid big gatherings of people (like the city.)

Horror wouldn't even go into the towns to grab food in fear that he'd be attacked (paranoid hunk). He wouldn't even eat at all, even if papyrus handed him the food. He'd think that his own brother poisoned his food. Horror's really paranoid and anxious. He couldn't handle the idea of returning to a normal life, let alone be actually living in one.

So, he usually stays in a specific spot he's found. He stays during the day and leaves at night to sleep back in his apartment.

Horror ventures into the (very little) forests often. He has even found a little spot to go to whenever he suffers from his misophonia or is just overwhelmed by the bright lights everywhere.

the area itself is a lake with a cabin built by it. The owner doesn't seem to be there at all, if there is one. But it nicely covered by the trees. So it's pretty dark, barely any light shines through. Which Horror adores because FUCK the sun.

Anywho, Horror usually only goes there during the day and he has had no issue.

But.. Maybe one day, Horror was just too tired at the moment to head back. The cabins always unlocked anyway, if the owner truly didn't want anyone going in there. They would've kept it locked. No issue to sleep there for the night, right?

So it came by as a surprise when Horror woke up to a flashlight being beamed at his face.

Apparently, another, smaller, skeleton owns that cabin. This, alone, would've been the most embarrassing thing to deal with. If it weren't for the fact that he was overcome with fear that he was about to be slaughtered for trespassing.

Which is completely frowned upon and forbidden in the omega timeline (so is everywhere else..). But hey, this dude is living alone in a cabin, in the forest. AGAIN, BY HIMSELF. He's definitely doing some weird stuff around here.

Now, tell Horror why the fuck the weirdo in the cabin sat him down in the kitchen and passed him some microwaved Ramen as if Horror didn't basically break into his cabin and sleep in his bed. The little weirdo hasn't forced Horror out yet, and doesn't seem to want to let Horror go. He would've ran out already but he doesn't wanna turn his back to Dust and get gunned down.

So, whatever. I guess he's gonna be eating Ramen with this weirdo tonight. And sleep in his bed. Be buried in his blankets. And then wake up to freshly prepared breakfast. Which was the most half-assed breakfast Horror has ever seen.

Horror isn't complaining, though. For some reason, he feels safe around this freak in the woods. He hasn't eaten anything for another 3 additional years since of his own paranoia.

Having only spent a single night with this terrifying yet uncomfortably quiet individual.. Horror feels pretty darn safe around him. Safe enough to be able to pick up the fork and not feel the need to skew it into the other sans' neck. Horrors feeling pretty darn good. He even got the weirdos name, Murder. Which is, as expected, weird! His even weirder name, or nickname, was Dust. Freak.

Now, why did Dust do all of this for Horrors one-night stand? He was just being nice. He was currently in a counseling group to help the more 'feral but not completely gone' aus reenter society without feeling the need to decimate people. So hey, this is good practice to be a good person. Right? Plus, Horrors hot. But maybe Dusts is just a freak, he is, so it's whatever. Save a hot hunk and get better at not hurting people. Two birds with one stone.

Though, what Dust didn't expect to happen was to have Horror come back.

Yeah, Horror began to stay overnight frequently. Dust thought it'd be a one-time thing, and Horror would scramble away and never come back. Nope. Horrors visiting him. He has even begun waiting outside of the cabin just to follow Dust inside.

Dust doesn't even know how to take this. So he's just letting Horror follow him in and feeds him like Horrors some stray dog. Dust doesn't even care if Horror stays in his cabin when he heads to bed. Which Horror always does, sleeping on that damn couch.

Slowly, this turns into Dust preparing food beforehand. Then beginning to come during the day. Then just letting Horror follow him in the city. Then that turns into letting Horror hold his hand for support and comfort. Then it shifts into cuddling.. then sleeping in the same bed. And finally, kissing and slobbering over each other's mouths. Freaks.

and oh boy— Horrors loving it. He loves Dust. Dust is the right amount of everything for him. He listens like all Dust wants to hear is Horror, he doesn't judge Horror about anything, Dust is always pampering Horror and god he loves being pampered. Or maybe he just loves whatever Dust does. Hell, if Dust told him to get on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk for him. Horror WOULD.

Horrors always clinging onto Dust, playfully nipping at him and gripping at his hand as if a bird is gonna swoop down and snatch the little guy up.

He's in love with Dust.

And to say Dust isn't is just as mad about Horror as he about him.. that'd be the same as saying that he doesn't need air. (He needs Horror as much as he needs to breathe. That hunk is his ENTIRE life). They're obsessed with each other, always grabbing at one another or pressed tightly together like two Lego pieces.

They're obsessed with each other, but that's okay!! Not a lot of harm, actually. Dusts already willingly isolated from people before meeting Horror. Horror has already begun isolating himself before he even met Dust, so it's not really a big effect on each other's lives. It's a big comfort and relief for them, actually. Horror would've most likely lashed out one day and kicked out of the timeline. And Dust? Eh, I guess he'd enter society as a 'normal' sans. He'd just be empty.

But Horrors much more friendly and less. "I'm shaking, not bc I'm scared, but bc I have a bomb inside my chest,"y and more, "hi!!!" with everyone after making out with Dust for a month.

But, as expected, things go downhill when Horror is clinging onto Dust and sobbing about how much he hates the loudness of the city. How he hates the bright lights. The overwhelming noise and overwhelming things going on all at once. And oh, Dust knows the feeling of being overstimulated and being literally unable to make everything just stop. It hurts to see his beloved break down in his arms, in his safe haven. In THEIR safe haven.

So, after that. Dust makes it his sole goal to make sure Horror doesn't have to deal with that again.

Oh, you sneezed a little too off, and Horrors nose-birdge wrinkled at you... Mmm.. Dust just popped your tires. Oh, you nudged Horror when walking by? Haha, Dust just cut off the power to your house!

And this continues on. Dusts' revenge becomes more harsh and overall unjustifiable until one day. Dust quite literally kills a dude. Horror doesn't even find out until they're watching TV, and it shows up. Dust just bluntly states, "that fucker squirmed a lot before the bullet even hit him." Horrors there right next to him like 😦. LIKE WHAT DO YOU MEANN!!

but whatever, Horrors freaking out a bit and grows paranoid again. Not in fear of Dust. But fear for him. What if they find out? What if they take Dust from him? Will they kill him too if they find out? He has to hide Dust. He can't let them take someone he cherishes so deeply. He doesn't care who died. All he needs to do is keep Dust safe.

Which is funny. Because Horror is the suspect for the murder. His already unpredictable behavior and being near the last known sighting of the dude leaves him as #1 suspect.

Horror was gonna be held in custody for further questioning, but don't worry, guys! Dust killed the officer meant to take Horror. Heh, our savior! 😝 (Horrors spiraling real bad, everything is going wrong and he's terrified about being separated from Dust).

Pssshh, they'll hide in their cabin until Horror n Dust can find a way to escape the timeline together. (They have no damn idea how to travel across universes, so ye)

but yeahh

drawing is about horror finding out Dust just killed someone. He's now worrying about what's going to happen to Dust and how much he doesn't want Horror to go. I forgot( I couldn't fit in) to add this dialog in the drawing, too, but they were meant to say

"they're gon' take you 'way from me. I dont want them to take you from me."

"I'm not letting them separate us."

[ckret2]

Chapter 53 of human Bill Cipher not properly appreciating the fact that Mabel is his only friend on Earth:

Mabel has read a book about Bill's home dimension and is prepared to interrogate him all about where he comes from.

Bill is willing to do anything to avoid being interrogated.

(Featuring SEVEN illustrations, provided by 🌈 MABEL 💖)

####

Flatworld, from what Mabel had read, was probably literally the worst place to ever exist. 

The book was a hundred pages of an old-fashioned formal-sounding super boring guy rambling on about the most egregiously evil society Mabel had ever had the horror of reading about.

Society consisted of a bunch of geometric shapes—which in concept sounded half nerdy and half adorable—but they'd made a brutally oppressive government organized by quantity of sides, with infinite-sided circles at the top and three-sided triangles at the bottom, and one-sided lines—women—oppressed into near silence. Career options, educational opportunities, who you could love, were all determined by your sides. Irregular shapes—quadrilaterals that weren't squares, triangles that weren't equilateral, anyone with a side too long or too short—were presumed from birth to be criminally insane. Each generation had sons with one more side than their father—and they had to, because having higher-ranked sons was the only way families could climb out of poverty. When babies were born with too few or irregular sides, poor families abandoned them—or worse—and rich families put them through oft-fatal bone-snapping surgeries to regularize or increase their sides. Knowledge of the third dimension was considered heretical, and anybody claiming it was real was locked in an insane asylum.

There was a lot of mathy stuff in the book about a square meeting a magical sphere and going on educational adventures to the higher and lower dimensions; but most of it passed by her in a blur. When she'd finished reading last night, Mabel had lay in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about dead baby shapes and fighting the urge to wake Bill up just so she could hug him; until she'd finally drifted off and woken up in her own bed.

At least, thank goodness, the bit about banning colors so lower shapes couldn't contour themselves to look like higher shapes was false. But she was sure that at least part of the story was true. And it had happened to somebody she knew. It was a lot to process.

So she processed it the way she usually did the stories that weighed on her: by creating a self-insert and pulling out her art supplies.

####

"You're drawing fan art of Flatworld?" Bill asked warily.

"I wouldn't call it fan art. I'd say it's more of a... thoughtful artistic critique. I don't think I'm a 'fan' of the second dimension," Mabel said. "No offense."

"Sure."

Mabel had designed a shapesona of herself: a pink heart with a rainbow-colored outline, a big sparkly eye, and skinny black stick limbs like Bill's. If, as Bill had said, colors weren't illegal, she didn't see any reason she couldn't be rainbow. The heart shape was maybe unconventional, but Bill hadn't said she couldn't be a heart yet, so she was sticking with it for now.

She'd honestly expected Bill to come over and interrogate her about her creation long before now. Usually, when she was doing art and he was unoccupied, he was hovering right by her, examining her work and dropping hints—some more subtle than others—that she should draw him next. But she hadn't immediately noticed when he'd silently drifted into the room, and she wasn't sure how long he'd been there before speaking up. He was still leaning on the wall, arms crossed, watching askance from halfway across the living room as Mabel worked with her crayons, as if she were playing with a chemistry set and he was trying to figure out if she was building a bomb.

"Is Flatworld really about your world?" Mabel asked. "Did you tell Edward Bishop Bishop all that stuff? With the circles and all the laws about shapes and stuff?"

Bill mulled over the question, staring into space. Mabel had never seen his face look so inexpressive before—at least, not since his first night as a captive, after he'd gotten all the screaming out and had looked too exhausted to feel. "We talked," he conceded. "I'm surprised you got your hands on it. I suppose Stanford brought it up."

Something in the back of her mind pricked up defensively—what was that supposed to mean, he was surprised she got her hands on it?—but she pushed it back down. "Yeah, he told me and Dipper about it when you guys got home yesterday," Mabel said. "But you brought it up to me first!"

"No I didn't. When?"

"A few weeks ago? You mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop."

"I don't remember that," Bill muttered. "I probably didn't think you'd make sense of it."

"Hey!"

"You didn't make sense of it! Ford had to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but—mean!" She shoved aside her drawing and started on another one, grumbling, "I could've made sense of it if I'd looked it up."

What was up with Bill today? He wasn't usually this much of a jerk. To her. Lately. Plus, she thought they'd really had a moment yesterday! But Bill had had a rough couple days. Maybe he was just tired and cranky. 

A wiser person might just leave well enough alone. But a wiser person wasn't exploding in their brain with curiosity about just how bad Bill's life had really been. There was something itching at the back of her head, had been itching since she'd woken up—something about Bill, something important, she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite put together what it was. She just needed to talk to Bill long enough to figure it out.

"So..." She glanced up from filling in a shape yellow, "were lines really executed if they didn't make noises all the time so everyone always knew where they were and they couldn't sneak up and stab anyone?"

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if the very idea was stupid. "It wasn't that extreme. Making a peace cry is like a human saying 'coming through' when they're trying to squeeze past somebody. Lines are just taught to do it in public because it's easier not to see a line, that's all."

"If they didn't, were they executed...?"

"No. They were just rude."

That was a relief. Mabel had been worried for her fellow ladies. She was plenty noisy, but she didn't think she could remember to make constant sound any time she was around other people. She turned back to coloring her newest drawing, but watched Bill out of the corner of her eye. "Is it true that rich people killed almost all of their babies by giving them surgery to break their sides?"

The corner of Bill's mouth curled in a sneer. "Do I look like a pediatric surgeon?"

"Um." Not a welcome question. She tried to backtrack to something softer. "So, in the second dimension, the outside of your body is just your outline and your guts are everything inside the outline, right?"

He gave her a wary look. "Yeah."

"So your bow tie is basically in your stomach."

Bill sucked in a deep breath; but quickly caved in to the need to be the most correct person in the room. "More like around my esophagus, but. Sure."

"So, where did you wear it when you were back in the second dimension? Was it on your side? Did you have to wear two so people could see them from both sides—"

"I didn't need a bow tie then."

Mabel stared at him. "What do you mean, you didn't 'need' it? What do you need it for now?"

Bill ignored the question. "You know, I didn't think Flatworld was an interesting enough book to deserve this much attention! Especially not from you. You like fun stories." It felt oddly like he was criticizing her for having read it.

"Well—yeah, but it's about your home! That makes it fun!"

Bill raised his brows.

"Right? Doesn't it?"

"Kid." Bill laughed condescendingly. "Don't give me that. You read an entire book. In the summer. About math. With a downer ending where the narrator goes insane and gets locked up. That's some people's idea of a fun time, but I know it's not yours."

Maybe "fun" was the wrong word—but it was still important. She was glad she'd read it. She'd cared about it. She'd cared enough to know Bill was describing it wrong. "That's not what happened. The square got locked up because he kept telling everybody the third dimension's real."

"Like I said! He went insane!"

"But he's not insane. Everyone says he is, but he's right about the third dimension! It's everyone else who's stupid!"

"So what," Bill said. "The things he knows mean he'll never be able to see the world the way other shapes do, and no matter what he does he'll never be happy with his home. If that's not insanity, what is?"

Last year, she'd heard Bill agree when Gideon called him insane. She'd always wondered. "Is that why you're insane?"

Bill shot Mabel a furious look. That was the wrong thing to say. "Shooting Star—"

(Oh no, she thought, he's using my full name.)

"—what's with the third degree." Bill crossed the room to lean on the other side of the table. He gave her the guarded glare of a guilty suspect facing down a cop in an interrogation room—and trying to figure out whether he could kill the cop before he was stopped. "What do you think you're trying to dig up?"

"I'm not trying to 'dig up' anything," Mabel said. "I just want to learn more about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you do! Who doesn't wanna know all about me! And right after I trusted you yesterday! Do you think you're the first person to start digging into my history? 'Hey, does anyone know what made Bill Cipher so crazy'?" Bill laughed bitterly. " You're not even the first Pines to try it. Not even the second."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" said Mabel, right before it dawned on her that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

"Right. I'm sure whatever you learn will make a nice two-page spread in Journal 5. Another secret you and Fordsy can add to your Mysteries, huh? Think he'll draw the dead babies?"

She thought back to Portland—to asking Ford what had made Bill so awful. I think if anyone’s ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Mabel shook her head. No. She didn't want to be that. "I'm not Grunkle Ford's spy, I'm your friend. I just—I just want to understand you—"

"Yeah, and the 'friends' who understand you are the most dangerous kind." Bill laughed harshly. "Your uncle and brother couldn't figure me out! And Sixer's been trying for years! So what makes you think YOU can?"

He was calling her stupid. He'd been calling her stupid all day. That was why he was so surprised she'd read the book.

"You—shut up!" She wadded up her latest drawing and flung it in Bill's face. (He snatched out of midair.) "All I did was read a book I thought was important to you, you jerk! I thought you'd like that!"

She hadn't meant for that waver to enter her voice. But she was exhausted from too little sleep and worrying about dead baby shapes and worrying about Bill's fear of death and worrying about what Ford had said about not giving Bill a second chance, and now Bill was being a jerk, and maybe he was just exhausted and upset too, but he was treating her like she was stupid—and there was that pathetic little waver.

But it made Bill pause in his onslaught; for a moment, he averted his gaze. Still, he said, "Maybe if you'd thought to ask—"

"You were asleep! I was being nice! And letting you sleep! In my bed!"

"But—"

"Just go away!" She pointed at the doorway.

Bill's face hardened again. "Fine!" He flung his hands in the air and stomped from the room. "Who wants to hang out with you when you're in such a bad mood, anyway."

Mabel glared at her stupid drawings so she didn't have to watch Bill's stupid back as he left.

Why had she bothered?

When Bill was out of sight, she dropped back onto her chair, pulled her sweater over her face, crossed her arms on the table, and buried her head in them.

####

Bill didn't think to smooth out the paper Mabel had flung at him until he was out of the room.

On one side she'd drawn Bill—properly triangular—with an expression that he thought was supposed to be fear and on the other side several angry-looking shapes, pentagons and hexagons, colored gray and black, being led by a pale figure shaped like a human skull and wielding a scythe; and between them, a bright pink heart, standing in front of Bill protectively, hands on its "hips," glaring down the would-be assailants.

The corners of Bill's mouth sagged down.

####

The bell rang and the shapes began filing out of class, muttering to each other about how they thought they'd done on the test. As the triangle cheerfully left the room, the teacher caught him by the arm again to pull him over. "Just a minute," she said. "I want a word with you."

Oh, he bet she did. Breezily, he said, "Sure thing! What is it?"

"Who was the first triangular president?"

"Wh— Th—" He spluttered indignantly. "There's been like—seven of them."

"Nine. And I'm only asking about the first one."

"How should I know!"

"You knew an hour ago."

He sputtered again. "That was— That was a multiple choice test! And it was an hour closer to when I'd studied! And I can focus better in the classroom! You can't expect me to remember anything in the hallway. You're using intimidation tactics. How could anyone focus under these conditions—"

"I don't know what you're doing," the teacher said, "or how you're doing it. Maybe I never will. But..." She sighed, and the anger seemed to leak out of her, and that only made him more nervous. "But whatever you're doing—you won't be able to do it forever. What will you do when you're out in the real world and you didn't learn anything in school?"

Her pity was worse than being hated had been. At least when he was hated, he knew she only looked down on him because she had something against him. What did he do with pity? With concerned warnings about the "real world"? He'd never heard anybody use the phrase "the real world" as anything but a threat. He hoped he was never out in the real world.

"Who cares! I'll never need any of this!" He should have shut up there. He didn't: "You're just jealous that me and my family make a million times more lying to everyone than you'll ever get trying to teach them the truth!"

His teacher gasped in shock; but before she could say anything, he was halfway down the hall with no intention of slowing down.

The next day, he stayed home, and his mom visited the principal. The day after that, he had a new teacher.

####

He was stupid. He knew that. He didn't know when he'd gotten stupid—if it was because he'd started touring so much and missing classes, or if he'd always been dumb and just didn't notice it before he registered just how often he was using his all-seeing eye to pick up answers that other kids couldn't see. It had crept up on him. But there it was. He was stupid, and he was too stupid to figure out what to do about it.

There was a big difference between being able to see everything, and actually knowing anything. And he might be all-seeing, but an idiot like him would never be all-knowing.

####

A trillion years later, he still didn't remember the name of the first triangular president. And look how far he'd gotten without it.

Lunch was toast and peanut butter. The toaster was the only source of heat he could use without having to ask his captors for access; and peanut butter and bread were the most nutritious foods he could reach without asking his captors to open a cabinet or fridge. He was sick of toast and peanut butter.

He wasn't about to ask Mabel to help him get lunch.

Well. He'd succeeded. He'd known just the right thing to say to get Mabel to lay off and drop the topic. Did he feel accomplished?

He stared out the window as he ate—there were hazy gray clouds on the horizon, beyond the trees, slowly inching closer—and he tried not to look at the picture Mabel had flung at him.

####

Mabel felt dumb about being upset that Bill thought she was dumb.

Because of course he did. Sure, he liked her art and he liked dance music and games without rules; sure, he was a willing student when it came to stuff like making friendship bracelets or artistically mixing sprinkles; sure, he was a weirdo fun guy; but he was also a Smarty McSmartypants, just like Dipper or Ford. And Mabel was the Girl Dipper who brought home C's. And even a weirdo fun Smarty wouldn't want to hang out for long with someone who couldn't keep up with nerd talk. He probably just... put up with her for as long as he could stand pretending he took her seriously, but he'd finally lost his patience...

And shown his true, jerky colors again.

Maybe Ford and Dipper were right about him; maybe he couldn't really change.

Except... there was something he'd said. And right after I trusted you yesterday. When he'd cried in front of her. When he'd told her about his fear of death.

He was being a jerk because he thought she'd betrayed him. But by reading a book?! Why couldn't he ever just explain himself? Did he think whatever was bothering him was obvious, and she was stupid for not figuring it out?

Something she almost but didn't quite remember thudded like a drum inside her brain. Dum-dum-dum. Dum-dum-dome.

From the entryway, Bill called, "Hey, star girl. I—"

He stopped in the doorway. Mabel had taped 28 pieces of paper together, drawn on a door knob, written "DOOR" at the top, and taped it across the doorway into the living room. Irritably, Bill said, "It doesn't work like that. This is obviously paper."

"Bill," Mabel grumbled. "Go away."

"No. I'm gonna say something to you."

He didn't phrase that like he was giving her a choice in the matter; but all the same, she said, "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know that horror story about a bride with a velvet ribbon tied around her neck, and her head falls off and rolls down the stairs when her husband unties it?"

She did. She and Dipper had read a book of scary stories to each other on Halloween a few years ago while waiting for it to be late enough to go trick-or-treating. In spite of herself, he'd piqued her curiosity. She reluctantly turned to look at him. "Yeah? So?"

Bill was leaning in the doorway, head tilted against the doorframe so he could see Mabel around the paper door curtain. "That's why I wear a bow tie."

Mabel blinked. "Wait—if you didn't, your head would fall off? What part of you is your head? How did it come off? Were you decapitated? Did you get decapitated for knowing about the third dimension—?"

"It doesn't keep my head on; it keeps my skin on."

Mabel's nose wrinkled. "Gross! How?"

"Remember how you said my outline is my skin and all my organs are inside the outline," Bill said. "That didn't change when we left the second dimension! We had to get exoskeletons on our top and bottom sides so solids like you can't stick you fingers in our guts. My bow tie keeps it tied in place."

"Whoa." So that was why they hadn't seen Bill's organs before. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Mostly when I'm eating!" He knocked on the doorframe. "So can I come in now?"

Of course. He'd been using information to buy his way back into her good graces. (No—that was what somebody who didn't think Bill deserved a second chance would think. He was making up for earlier by answering one of her questions about him.)

She took a deep breath, turned to face Bill, and said, "You didn't talk to me like a friend earlier."

"I—" Bill grimaced, looked at the ceiling for help, and conceded, "I mean—It's how I talk to my friends, but all right, I know you're not used to that—"

"Nobody should be used to that!" Mabel said. "What would Love Bunny say?"

"Wh—?! I— Th— You—" His voice cracked as it jumped higher, "What do I care what a cartoon rabbit thinks about—"

"What. Would. She. Say."

Bill's face screwed up in agony. He crossed his arms. "Ugh."

"Biiill?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Bill said, "She'd say my breath smells like I've been eating mean beans."

"Aaand?"

"I'm not going to say it. I won't say it."

"And you need to eat your nice rice!"

Bill let out a long, slow sigh.

"Say it!"

"This is my penance," Bill muttered toward his feet. "This is my penance. This is fair." He took a breath. "And... I need to eat my nice rice."

Mabel nodded. He'd confessed his sins.

"I think we're out of nice rice," Bill said, "but I've had the peanut butter of kindness and the toast of remorse. Good enough?"

She considered it. "Yeah. You can come in."

Bill batted aside the paper door curtain and ducked into the room. 

He sat across the table from Mabel and set down the paper she'd chucked at him amongst her others. Mabel glanced at the drawing, embarrassed of it now; but Bill didn't say anything about it.

He just propped his cheek against his hand and started looking over her other art.

Mabel sat there with her hands under her legs, watching his spotlight eyes rove over the table, feeling like she was waiting for a teacher to grade a poster she'd made for class. He saw a stop sign red octagon in sunglasses that was labeled "Bill's parole officer" and snorted. She wasn't sure if it was an amused snort or a derogatory snort. His gaze stopped on her attempt to figure out how Flatworlder anatomy worked, and didn't move farther. She'd probably gotten everything wrong, hadn't she?

She couldn't stand waiting for him to pass judgment on her art. "You think they look dumb, don't you."

Bill took a moment to reply. He didn't look up from her drawings. "I don't think you're dumb, Shooting Star."

"You think I'm dumber than Dipper and Grunkle Ford."

Bill winced. "I don't." At her dubious look, Bill amended, "Only Stanford! And that barely counts, all humans are dumber than Stanford. It doesn't mean I think you're dumb-dumb"

"Could've fooled me," Mabel muttered.

"You bet! I'm good at fooling people. All I have to do is say things I don't mean that make people feel the way I want." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "I wanted you to feel like the conversation wasn't worth it. That's all."

She stared at him. "By letting me know you think I'm stupid?!" She chucked a crayon at his face. "You could have just told me you didn't want to talk about Flatworld!" Her voice was getting that stupid waver again. "If I'd known, I would have dropped it! I didn't want to upset you!"

"I wasn't upset, it's just a stupid thing to complain about! It's just a dumb book! It'd—it'd take a real loser to be bothered by talking about a dumb book! I'm not..." He sighed harshly. "I know you weren't trying to get on my nerves, kid. It'd mess up your sticker chart." (Mabel hadn't even realized he knew about her sticker chart.) Almost inaudibly, he added, "M'sorry."

She'd never heard him apologize before.

She let out a slow breath. "Biiill. I don't think you're a loser."

He muttered something she couldn't make out as he flipped his hood on and pulled it down over his burning face. "Forget it. Move on. It's in the past!"

"If you're so embarrassed—"

"Not embarrassed!"

She chucked another crayon at his chest. "Then why are you telling me this now?"

Bill shut his eyes; took a deep breath; and, with a look of solemn dignity, and no small amount of pain, he said, "Because. Teddy Tender says. Our friends can't help us feel better if we don't tell them why we feel bad." He almost, almost managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Mabel burst out laughing. Bill pulled his hood lower.

Bill didn't even like Teddy Tender—he thought he was the stick in the mud of the Color Critters—and he certainly wasn't actually trying to follow Teddy's friendship lessons. He was just... saying something he didn't mean to make Mabel feel the way he wanted. And he wanted her to feel better.

No matter what anyone else said, he could change. And he was changing.

"Apology accepted," Mabel said. "Gold star!" She peeled one off a nearby sticker sheet and held it out.

Bill eyed it, like a man so hungry he was too nauseous to eat eyeing a pizza; and then snatched it from her and stuck it in the middle of his hoodie.

Mabel said, "And... I guess I'm sorry for getting all diggy about your home world." Even if she hadn't known it was bothering him, she probably should've guessed, shouldn't she? With how crabby he'd gotten. "I just got all excited and curious and... kinda worried about you after reading that book?" She sighed. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. You probably hated your dimension."

"What? He lurched forward with the vehemence of his denial—"Of course I don't hate my dimension!" Mabel leaned away at the sudden rage that had flared up in his eyes; but it died just as quickly and Bill immediately reeled himself back in, sitting back, crossing his arms: "I mean, come on, kid, use your head: you read a book about a culture. We're talking about an entire dimension. Would you hold a grudge against Jupiter if an ant bit you on Earth?"

Even as casually as he played it off, Mabel was sure he hadn't meant anything as calm and measured as claiming it was technically irrational to hate an entire dimension. He meant—emphatically, with his whole heart behind it—that he didn't hate his home dimension, at all.

Then why didn't he want to talk about it? (Then why had he destroyed it? Or was not hating it just another fiction he'd made up because he'd prefer that reality? Or was the destruction itself a lie? He hadn't mentioned it once since they'd started talking about Flatworld. Or did he think she didn't know about that and didn't want her to know? Or...)

Something had been churning in her subconscious since she woke up, and now—watching Bill ball up around himself as he squirmed around the things he didn't want to say—it finally dawned on her. Two words. Another piece of the Axolotl's poem. She tried to hold the words in her head until she could write them down, repeating them over and over—Misses home. Misses home.

Quietly, she asked, "Then... don't you want to remember it?"

His face spasmed, like it was nearly cracking in two—and then smoothed out. His face was blank. He didn't answer for a moment. "The last time I told a human more than two sentences about where I'm from... he gave me the universe's most depressing geometry textbook."

Oh. Maybe Bill was following Teddy Tender's friendship advice. "That's because you were talking to a boring old-timey math teacher, duh."

He laughed wryly. "You may have a point!"

If Bill assumed anybody prying into his history was either looking for the reason something was wrong with him, or publishing a whole book about the super bad parts... No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "So you didn't dislike Flatworld? You just dislike the book?"

Bill grimaced. "Did you read Eddie's biography?"

"No?"

####

As soon as he'd buckled himself into his seat for the drive to Northwest Manor, Dipper read the summary on the back cover of Flatworld, and then the paragraph-long author biography underneath it:

Edward B. Bishop, born in 1838 in England, was an accomplished mathematician, writer, theologian, and closet occultist, as well as a professor at the esteemed University of Fancyton. He published twelve books, the last of which was Flatworld in 1884. After sentencing his square protagonist to a two-dimensional asylum for preaching of the existence of the third dimension, he himself succumbed to an ironically similar fate: three months after publication, he was committed to an asylum for insisting that two-dimensional alien invaders intended to conquer the Earth and were persecuting him for revealing their existence, a delusion he maintained until his death from sleep deprivation in 1886. His most enduring legacy is inventing the margarita glass, which he claimed came to him in a dream. 

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Ouch."

####

"Never mind, don't worry about it," Bill said. "But no. I didn't like the book."

"You poor thing! All this time you've been homesick for the second dimension, but the only things humans talk about is the bad stuff!"

"Don't call me that."

"Do you want to talk about the non-depressy stuff instead? Like..." Mabel wracked her brain for something nice she'd read in the book. She winced. "Uh... I'm sure there's something. You could choose the topic?"

Bill didn't look directly at her. He just looked over all her drawings again. "Tell me why you want to know so badly."

It was basically the same question he'd asked earlier—what's with the third degree—but his tone was different. Mabel swallowed hard and repeated, "Because... I'm your friend. It's crazy that we've been friends for like a month and I barely know a-ny-thing about who you are or how you grew up! By now, I'd usually know about a friend's family, favorite subject, favorite animal, opinion on glitter, and biggest life dream! Plus all the stuff humans have in common—like, 'do you breathe?'"

This time, Bill didn't argue with her answer. (He could have called her a liar. A month ago, she had just been trying to find out what was wrong with him. But this version of the truth she'd made up was better.) "You already know I'm pro-glitter in all contexts and my life's work is to throw an eternal party. What else really matters?"

"Those are the two most important questions," Mabel said seriously. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you have glitter in the second dimension?" He'd already reassured her that they'd had color, but it was hard to imagine glitter in such a bleak world.

"Sure."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

She looked around at the morning's art production, pulled over the first drawing she'd done of her shapesona, and grabbed a bottle of glue to draw a thin line around the heart.

Bill watched as Mabel carefully sprinkled several separate colors of glitter on the line of glue, like a master chef adding a precise amount of spice to a gourmet recipe, to create a glitter rainbow gradient; and then he slowly sat up and leaned toward the table again. "So, who's this freak?"

Mabel gave him an exasperated look. She decided he'd meant "freak" neutrally; but she'd clearly labeled the heart "ME IN FLATWORLD," she thought it was pretty obvious who this freak was.

But Bill cheerfully went on, "He's the most hideously disfigured shape I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

"I'm not joking, it hurts to look at this guy. At least he's symmetrical, but woof."

"She's not a guy! She's supposed to be me in Flatworld," Mabel insisted. "She's a powerful lady and I think she's beautiful." She paused. "Can a heart be a girl?" Lines looked boring, but Flatworld said that girls were all lines and all other shapes were boys. (Or were they? When they'd talked at the mall, Bill had been very clear that he considered himself a triangle instead of male or female, which scuttled the "all polygons are male" concept. Maybe Edward Bishop Bishop had made that part up?)

"She can be anything she wants," Bill said firmly. "I don't see any gender cops around here, do you?"

Good point. "And when there's no cops around, anything's legal."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"Grunkle Stan says it!"

"Wise man." Bill leaned forward further across the table and tapped a finger on the deep cleft at the top of the heart. "Personally, I'm more worried about that agonizing-looking birth defect. I'm surprised she survived past infancy!"

Mabel glared at him, but she supposed she couldn't argue. A heart was a pretty irregular shape. And according to Flatworld, almost all irregular shapes were executed in childhood or else imprisoned in adulthood, since they thought irregular shapes would grow up to be depraved, imbecilic criminals—

"Wait," Mabel said. "Wait. Last year, when I called you an isosceles freak—"

Bill cut in, "It was 'monster,' but go on!"

"Was that, like..." Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper, "a slur on Flatworld?"

Bill fought to keep his face straight as he decided how to respond. He went for the funniest answer. "Yes."

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Nooo!"

"It's actually pretty impressive a human managed to come up with it!"

"I'M SORRYYY, augh I didn't know!"

Over her anguished whines, Bill went on, "It's just a good thing you didn't say 'scalene'! I would've had to wash your mouth out with drain cleaner!"

Mabel had pulled the collar of her sweater over her face. From within Sweater Town, she asked, "Was that the first thing I ever said to you?"

Bill choked back a laugh. "Yeah, it was."

She squealed in embarrassment and slid under the table.

"Heck of a first impression, star girl!"

"i'm sorryyy."

Bill reached under the table to pat the top of her head. "Ahhh, it was funny. Get up here." 

As she climbed back into her seat, Bill added, "I'm getting back at you now, I'm not done making fun of your medical miracle yet. You know what she'd look like as a human? A headless, neckless body with an eyeball shoved six inches down her esophagus." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually... that sounds kinda cute."

"Eww, Bill."

"It is, it's cute. Like a clumsy puppy with a neurological disorder! I guess that's how the hideous Miss Heart here must look to humans!"

Mabel looked over her art again, wondering if she should change her shapesona, considering Bill's reaction to it. 

So, maybe she was creating a freak. She didn't see any shape cops around here. She kept drawing. "I'd be fine," she said. "You like weird freaks! You'd keep me safe."

A stricken look crossed his face. He was momentarily silent as he watched Mabel start another picture. And then, as though he were only considering it for the first time, he said, "Yeah. I guess I would."

His gaze drifted to the wrinkled picture of Mabel's shapesona standing protectively in front of Bill. "Freaks can't afford to tear each other down."

####

(THIS is the chapter that's been giving me hell the last few weeks. Months. Last few months. I'm so glad to finally have it out, and I hope y'all enjoyed!! This chapter probably brings up a lot more questions than it actually answers—and completely different questions based on whether or not you've read Flatland lol—so I can't wait to hear what y'all think.)

[thegnomelord]

Ok, so I loved your dragon reader/ dragon price fic. The detailed courting rituals got me thinking about how different members of TF 141 react to a s/o who has different courting rituals than them.

The one rolling around in my mind rn is Gaz (which I'm pretty sure is a harpy or bird hybrid of some kind) with a dragon reader.

So Gaz tries to court reader through a more fancy version of pebbling. But, instead of giving cool rocks and sticks, it's gemstones and weapons. Yknow, expensive/fancy things that Gaz thinks the reader might want to add to his hoard.

Btw do you have an anon list? If so, is 👑 anon available?

I don't have an anon list yet but you're welcome to be 👑anon!

It's cool to think how they'd try to court you. I hc that werewolves, and Johnny by extension, are really straightforward. Like sitting way too close, hands roaming over your body, trying to lick into your mouth and going "Hey wanna make more of us?"

Ghost, the poor thing, is completely fucked bc he was human before becoming a wraith, how the Hell is he supposed to know? Que him going through Wikipedia articles and watching documentaries of your species courting and mating (having to rub one out imaging you and him in that position ofc) and just stumbling through the whole courting thing.

CW:NSFW

But Gaz? Oooh Gaz—

Safe to say he's fallen ass over tits for you.

It's the way you take care of them, of him, of the monstrous strength used to defend them turning velvet soft when Gaz needs emotional support that has his harpy hindmind demanding to lock you down before a competitor snatches you away.

Only problem — you're not a harpy. And Gaz has no idea how courtship works, as when he asks Price about it (under the guise of just being curious) the old fart just gives him an amused look and tells him to figure it out.

Though harpies and dragons are two different species, he figures there must be some similarities, so he figures to listen to the old fairy tales about your kind and looks for the shiniest thing he can find, because Harpies court by giving gifts and dragons like to hoard and both of them like shiny stuff right?

You're confused like Hell when one day you wake up to find a silver ring with a shiny amethyst sitting on your windowsill. You know for a fact it's not yours as the instinct to catalogue every item in your hoard is as old as the draconic blood running through your veins and you'd remember if you had it.

When you make sure it's not stolen and no owner can be found, (because who'd wear that type of ring in a military base?) you decide to keep it, failing to notice how the way Gaz's pupils get bigger when you put the ring in your pocket.

It is a nice ring, the shine of the gemstone tickling your brain in a pleasant way. The military doesn't allow dragons to have large hoards, most of the items you've gathered over the decades and centuries safely hidden in vaults, but it feels good to have a small hoard in your den.

You expect this to be a one off event. But. No. Every few weeks you find a new thing on your windowsill, from gems to guns to additions to weapons you've expressed you'd like to get. Each new thing leaves you scratching your head, annoyance growing bit by bit as there's never enough scent on the items to track the culprit down and it's not like you can turn the base upside down looking for them (again).

You're unsure how to feel; it's obvious someone is trying to court you, but it definitely can't be Price because no dragon would go about it like this. But you have to admit it's nice to be desired, regardless how odd the method may be.

Then you notice how Gaz has started acting. . . different. He'll ruffle his feathers and flutter his wings more than usual when you two are alone, purposely stretch more often to make your eyes naturally draw to him, sticking to your side as he talks about everything and anything under the sun.

You're also not a fool. You can figure out it's a harpy's way of trying to show off, but without any open hostility you can only assume he's trying to court you. And you let him, you like his presence and the sound of his voice, the way he gives you a lopsided smile and the way his dark feathers shine like onyx gems when the light hits them juuust right and the way he flushes and stutters when your tail wraps around his leg.

Then one late evening when you're doing paperwork you catch sight of something behind your window in the corner of your eye. Like a flash you're opening the window, your clawed hand gripping Gaz's hand before he can scatter.

Gaz's wings spread out wide, a surprised squawk leaving him as he looks into your slitted eyes. "Uh-, I, eh- Hi?" He says, gulping, his newest gift, a very shiny ruby, held in his hand. But what draws your eye are his dark feathers.

You let out an amused snort, "Hello." You purr, leaning in so your faces are close, enjoying the way he flushes from the proximity. "So you're the little thief that's been visiting me."

Gaz's feather puff up to make his silhouette twice as big, his eyes narrowing, a hurt and angry look spreading across his features. "I'm no thief!" He says, insulted that you'd suggest he can't get you gifts on his own. "I-"

"You are," You hum, reaching out your other hand to hold his jaw, and even with his anger he feels his mind croon at how softly you touch him. "You're in the process of stealing my heart."

"Oh." Is the most intelligent thing he can come up with, his pupils blowing wide like he'd just seen the shiniest thing in his life. "Oh."

"Yes," You shrug and pull your hand back to yank one of your scales out of your shoulder, giving it to him as you take the ruby. "Keep this safe for me, yeah?" You hum and then you let him go, going back to your work while he's left dumbstruck, clutching the scale close to his chest.

When it finally settles in his head that you'd just given him a gift, that you'd reciprocated, and given him a shiny gift, oh he's treating that scale like it's the most precious thing in his world. He keeps it close to him, cooing to it in the privacy of his room, keeping it on his pillow so he can fall asleep with your scent in his nose.

He also doubles down on the gifts, but now he's very open about it, to the point you'll have him randomly come into your office to give you something shiny or another weapon, preening so prettily when you praise the thing he's brought back, nuzzling into your neck and fluffing up his feathers. His heart swoons when you show him the small hoard you've made with all the things he's brought you, and you end up spending the entire evening with him cuddled up to you, chirping happily.

"Hey, can I see that scale I gave you?" You ask after a couple of weeks, curious to see how he's treated it.

"Uh, sure." Gaz can swear his heart's beating like a war drum as he watches you inspect your scale, checking for scratches or cracks.

But you find none, it's still as shiny as the day you'd given it to him. Maybe even shinier.

You smile and before he can do anything you pull him close to you by a hand on his hip. "Very well done, little thief." You hum, kissing him. Gaz melts against you, not even your lips able to muffle the happy chirps and croons that escape his chest.

You spend the next few months getting familiar with each other's bodies, lazy evenings spent with your clawed hands preening his wings, Gaz steadily melting into the bed with every brush of your fingers. Kyle taking a few extra minutes in the morning to rub his face between your wing, chirping and crooning.

Harpy mating season comes around and you're caught off guard when you come to your room to find your covers and pillows and entire wardrobe on the ground, turned into a makeshift nest with a very naked, and very horny, Gaz sitting in the middle of it.

His eyes are hazy but he knows you're there the second your scent hits his nose, the most desperate sound you've ever heard leaving his lips, bruised from how hard he'd been biting them to reign his noises in, to keep them only for you.

"Mate-" Kyle whines, shuffles in the nest that has the pretty gems he'd gifted you strewn amongst the fabric, "-need you, please- I-"

One more needy sound is all it takes to have you tumbling naked into the nest in record time, deep guttural purrs answering his pleased coos. He presses flush against you, seeking out your mouth, whole body burning up and his thighs shaking, his cock rock hard.

"I got you, pretty thief." You rumble, pulling him into your lap, his wings spreading out and feathers puffing up, as if he needs to make himself look even more desirable. "What do you need Kyle?"

"Need you," Kyle whines, pawing at your own erection, desperate fingers shaking as he strokes you, "Please- hurts, I need- mate."

You shush him with sweet kisses, your hand sliding down to very carefully stretch him open while avoiding injuring him with your claws, your mind purring at how willingly he opens up for you, wings and limbs shaking as he whimpers against your lips, his mind steadily leaking from his cock.

"You're alright," You calm him when you pull your fingers out, positioning him so your cock head rests against his entrance, not missing how Kyle preens at your strength. "Going to breed you right, gonna take care of you."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Kyle moans are loud as you steadily push your cock into him, his walls clamping down on every inch of your length. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank- mate." His claws dig into your shoulders, clutching you tight as you bottom out in him, his hole clenching you in sync with his ragged breathing.

"I'm here," You hum, barely able to think, "Just relax, let me take care of you." You say, feeling him relax into you, and with deep purrs and lots of praise you begin to fuck him, moving him like a fleshlight on your cock, letting him moan and groan and scream his heart out uncaring who hears it, your ancient blood singing at the thought of his noises being a testament to your abilities as a mate.

Then the tight heat and the scent and just Kyle has your mind forgetting how to think, your body moving on it's own to show Kyle he'd picked a good mate.

[moonalumi]

arguing with ellie n it goes too far

idk if this has been done but um be ready y’all i’m bouta cry

warnings- guys this is kinda sad um, angst, arguing, crying ig, ellie being easily agitated n mean, mentions of death, reader comfort el at the end guys trust!!

“el what’s wrong?” you ask as sweetly as you can. worried about how your girlfriend has been ignoring you and other people all week. she’s just been in her own little world writing and drawing the days away. every now and then you heard little sniffles coming from her direction but choose to ignore it; thinking she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk but it’s only been getting worse day by day.

she ignored your question again. flinching at your touch and cursing herself in her head for that.

“ellie please talk to me, i made you some food” you comfort once again, reaching out to brush out some tangles in her hair with your fingers.

“i don’t want it.” ellie mumbles out coldy. not even taking her attention away from her drawing.

“okay well i’ll leave it here in case you change your mind okay?” you kiss ellie’s head and unintentionally glance at her sketchbook. somehow she notices and slams it shut. pushing you away from her as well.

“cant you just leave me alone for two seconds?” ellie snaps. her tone of voice taking you by surprise.

“el— i’m sorry i didn’t look—“ you fumble your words. not knowing whether to look at the closed sketchbook or your angry girlfriend.

“i don’t care stop hovering over me constantly, i’m fine stop worrying.” ellie stands up to walk past you but not before you stop her.

“how am i supposed to know you’re fine? you certainly don’t seem fine when you haven’t even had a conversation with me in days!” ellie turns to look at you and you swear her eye contact with you could kill, you forget how mean she can look without trying to.

“drop it i don’t wanna argue with you” she trys walking away again but you grab her wrist.

“please talk to me, what’s wrong??” you beg, and lift your hand to push strands of her hair away from her face.

although ellie pushes your hand away, not roughly though, her touch is still soft unlike her words, “don’t fucking touch me just leave me alone i don’t want to be anywhere around you, just go.”

it hasn’t been the first time ellie had snapped at you like this and said awful things she didn’t mean. for some reason it’s in her nature to just lock away her feelings and attack anyone who tries to push their way in. unfortunately today you seem to be her victim. and after a year of being in love with her, you know her very well by now.

“you really want me to go ellie? cause i’ll go but who’s gonna be taking care of you like i am right now?” you raise your voice at her while picking up things of yours from around her room.

ellie just watches as you pick up your items. sitting there with a lil pout on her lips not saying a word as you stuff more stuff in a bag. but before you can even touch the doorknob to leave she stands up, “wait..” she whispers, if you listened carefully enough you would’ve heard her voice cracking.

“what is it?” you ask rather harshly. opening the door and stepping outside.

ellie panics, her eyes widening and her legs unintentionally making their way towards you in a rush, “wait don’t go” she whimpers.

only then do you turn to see ellie’s eyes filled with tears and her panicked expression. her tough angry demeanor changing in a matter of seconds. n that pout on her lips turned into quivering lips.

your own eyes soften at the sight. you can’t help but feel the pain and guilt for making her cry but you knew she needed a wake up call. you needed to let her know you won’t stand there and just take her hits.

“oh el i’m so sorry” you bring her in for a hug. letting her burry her face in your neck and squeeze you into her hold.

“n-no i’m so sorry i—shouldn’t have been so mean to you. don’t leave me” ellie hiccups and sniffles between her crys. getting your neck all wet with her tears and snot but you don’t mind.

“i’m not leaving you baby i just needed to teach you a little lesson i’m so sorry” you leave kisses all over her hair and scratch her back as she calms herself down.

lifting her head up, you kiss her cheek that’s all flushed and puffy n lead her back to bed. cuddling her and forcing her be little spoon.

a comfortable silence over takes you too as you just lay together, “you wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” you whisper breaking the silence.

you feel ellie take a deep breath and intertwine your hands together, “it’s— around the time of joel’s death date, i think that’s why i’m being like this.”

“i’m so sorry ellie” you try and comfort but you know there’s not much you can say or do to make her feel better about it other than being here with her like this.

“can you scratch my back? it felt good earlier,” ellie smiles at you as she asks the question.

“of course, c’mere” you sit up and let ellie lay onto of you as you lift her shirt up to scratch her back until she falls asleep <33

free palestine !!

[kawacake]

OFFSIDE CRUSH | “The chaos begins?”

Masterlist, prev, Chap 2, next

A/n: something quick and simple the next few chapters won’t have so much writing mainly ig post, bllk boys making TikTok’s and more. Also a like and reblog would be appreciated and comment if you wanna be added to the Taglist bye

The knock on your door is so light it barely qualifies as a knock, more like a baby knocking on the door asking for entry.

You open it to see Reo balancing a box of cookies, Isagi looking over both shoulders like he’s expecting to get tackled, Bachira grinning like he’s about to do something illegal, and Nagi… barefoot and yawning. “Reo told me to walk. That was annoying,” Nagi says by way of hello. “You literally live five doors down,” you say, letting them in.

They kicked their shoes off and fully entered your room. You took one of the crumbled cookies and started eating it till Bachira practically slammed a pack of cards in front of you. "We're Not Really Strangers," the package read, “We’re going to play, we're not really strangers but the cards are a tad bit messier.” Reo narrows his eyes. “You mean emotionally manipulative.” “I mean fun.” Isagi sighs like his soul just left his body. “Can I opt out?” “Nope,” you and Bachira say in unison.

Bachira wiggles his eyebrows and holds out the cards. “Y/N draws first. House rules.” You glance around the circle, Reo is lounging on your bean bag chair, Isagi is sitting cross-legged and visibly stressed, Nagi is slouched against your bed, staring at you with half-lidded curiosity.

You pick a card. “Alright. ‘What’s something you’ve never told anyone here?’” Everyone groans. “Wow. Starting strong,” Reo mutters, rubbing his temple. “I’ll go,” Bachira offers cheerfully. “One time, I replaced Ego’s black coffee with chocolate protein shake as an experiment.” “Did he notice?” you ask. “He said nothing. But the next day, there were two locks on the staff fridge.” Next card goes to Reo.

He reads it aloud: “Who’s someone here you wouldn’t mind being stuck with on a deserted island?” “I feel like there’s a correct answer.” Isagi said Reo shrugs. “Y/n.” “WHAT?!” Bachira gasps.

“You’re resourceful,” Reo says, cool and casual. “Also, you’ve got the ‘keep us alive’ energy.” “PFTTTT I wish I was practically spoon feeding my entire life I’d probably kill myself if I got stuck on a deserted island.” You confessed making the boys laugh at you.

“I’d still want to be stuck with Y/n too. She wouldn’t make me do anything.” Nagi said before Isagi spoke up “Okay but you’d die in like six hours.” Nagi shrugs. “Worth it.”.

Isagi draws the next one. “'What do you notice first when you like someone?'” He pauses. Look up at the group. “Don’t make this weird.” “Too late.” Bachira said Isagi sighs. “I guess… their smile.” “That’s actually cute,” you admit. Isagi turns bright red. “I literally hate this game.” He huffed out.

Then Nagi lazily reaches forward, picks up a card with two fingers like it’s heavy. He reads it slowly. “‘What would you say if you knew they wouldn’t forget it?’” No one says anything.

Reo leans forward. “Dude. You gonna answer?” Nagi glances at you. His voice is low. Almost like he’s just talking to you. “I’d say I like it when you talk to me like I’m more than just another player.” Silence. Actual silence.

Reo’s eyes go wide. Isagi makes a strangled sound. Bachira straight-up clutches his chest like he’s in a drama. “HELP WHY IS BACHIRA ACTUALLY CLUTCHING HIS PEARLS.” You say causing you and Bachira to burst out into a fit of laughter.

“Anyway.” Nagi flops backward onto your bed. “I’m tired now.” “Bro,” Isagi whispers. “You can’t just say stuff like that and nap.” “Well watch me.” Nagi said back now, grabbing a pillow and two of your blankets, throwing it on the floor and throwing the two blankets over him.

“Wow…” You say looking at the boy who was now asleep on your floor. “We’ll wake him up before we leave.” Reo said as the three of you continued playing the card game. 

After what felt like twenty more questions Reo had fallen asleep so the other two boys finally decided it was time to go to bed so they woke Nagi and Reo up and they waved you bye as the four left your room.

-

yourinstagram

Liked by, reoofficial, clutchyoichi, sleepyseishiro, and 1,767,468 others

yourinstagram I wanna be able to fall asleep as quick as Nagi & Reo

View all 81,952 comments

rinwrecks Cool. now post game stats like you're actually paid to

yourinstagram why he clock my shit though…🥀 IT’S MY FIRST DAY GO EASY ON ME DAMN

user953 I want your job

yourinstagram I don’t, you can have it

sleepyseishiro Umm no you can’t have her job.

megumonster Girl wym “I don’t,” YOU DO!

yourinstagram WAIT CHAT I ACTUALLY HAVE TO GTS I ACTUALLY HAVE TO WORK TOMORROW

ChigiriH why are you now being aware of this

user035 exactly why you don’t need this job 🤦‍♀️

yourinstagram HO DO YOU EVEN HAVE A JOB YOURSELF

officialraichi we need a PR Manager for our PR Manager…

yourinstagram WAIT NO THAT COMMENT JUST BLEW ME

-

You closed instagram then clicked on iMessage to text your mom goodnight even though you doubted she was awake.

Fun Fact:

1. Y/n and her mom are 20 years apart and people often mistake the two for siblings.

2. Nagi isn’t aware of his feelings for y/n and just think he’s getting sick or something.

3. I wrote this in a span of 30 minutes FORGIVE ME FOR ANY MISTAKES.

Taglist🏷️: @amterasuu @inojinieeee

[yey56]

Villainous x reader who's a sleepwalker (someone who moves, speaks and walks in their sleep)

DR FLUG🧪:

First time he found you walking around the manor at night he though you were suicidal. He was scolding you when he realised that your eyes were closed and that you were asleep.

He's the one you can trust to actually protect you from yourself when you are wandering in your sleep.

Every time Flug catches you out of your bed at night, he carefully guides you back trying not to wake you up.

I won't deny he hasn't experimented a bit with you in that state.

After the first night of the discovery, having already processed your strange behaviour, he started following you without interacting, observing what would you do or where would you go.

The experiments had determined that sometimes you formulate complete sentences, though really incoherent or direct nonsense 🤌👀

Some examples of what he has heard coming out of your mouth are: "omellet, picke omellet please." "Help wanted, this ship is empty" "yes sir the cow is asleep".

Those are some examples of the bullshit you are saying while asleep.

Flug is the typical dude that is taking care that you don't end up in some kind of mortal danger. 🫂

Will actively try to make you go to your room again and if he doesn't manage to do that, he will try to tie you up in the sofa or smth.

Overall, he is the one who worries about you the most and the only one who will not reprimand you in the mornings.

Talking about mornings. When you manage to wake up the next day, having a little bit of headcahe (you've been hitting your head with door frames all night) he will try to encourage you to lock your bedroom at night.

He's really curious about what the hell are you dreaming about. I mean, the shit you pull at night are really some piece of work, he's curious 🤨.

You have asked him to give you a chest camera so you can record what you do at night. You guys watch it together once a week.

All in all, he is the only one who actively care for your well being.

DEMENCIA 🦎:

A menace.

The moment she realises you're sleep walking, the moment she starts messing with you in your sleep (but lovingly ☺️)

If she sees you get to close of falling through a set of stairs, she will stop you so you don't accidentally break your neck.

Demencia draws stuff in you face like a fake moustache or something written like: Dem is the best. (When you wake up and realise that the marker is permanent you are going to seek vengeance)

Has a lot of videos and photos about you, and of the constant nonsense you spill.

At night, whenever your talking in your dreams and saying the most outrageous and out of pocket stuff, shes there listening to you.

And the worst? She will answer and keep a conversation with your sleeping self.

Smth like this:

Reader: *mumbling* ketchup pajamas are in the cabinet on the Pacific. The Italians have been slaved.

Demencia: yeah girl you go!! Fuck that Mario plumber 🪠

Will not shut up about the shameful shit you do while sleeping. She's laughing at you and mocking you but will still vigilantes you in case you get to risky at night.

She will lend you her straitjacket some nights so you can be safe at one place without the risk of waking up in a forest. 👌👏

In conclusion:Demencia will have WAY more fun than Flug with your condition but still acknowledges that you can get hurt and tries to avoid it. (Almost always)

BLACK HAT 🎩:

He didn't really know how to react the first time he catched you wandering his manor at night. 🧐

Just as Flug, he though you had a death wish but also quickly realised, by your apparent drunken walk, that you were asleep.

Doesn't really interfere at first, just follows you and quietly watches. BH is genuinely entertained by your strange behaviours.

Has tried several times to interpret your mumbling and murmuring but at some point he realised it was complete gibberish.

You somehow managed to enter his office at night from time to time. (Apparently you know how to pick locks while sleeping 🫣🤗)

One night you were on the floor against the wall of his office saying something stupid he could barely understand when you suddenly started changing languages.

Reader: Yeah, stop it mom this is not guacamole. Sabes que no me sienta bien para el páncreas und ich habe Magenschmerzen. Bitte Krabbe. 🦀

BH: what the fuck-

That when black hat wanders why did he even let you in (he didnt, you picked the lock again)

After understanding your apparent almost suicidal way through his home he started to block some doors from your acces so you couldn't reach a tortuous death.

Once he catched you trying to enter a iron maiden he had laying around 💀🙈

This doesn't mean you're completely safe though.

I see him as the typical who magically transports you to a remote place so he can observe how you manage. Have fun trying to get back when you wake up ;)

The worst he has done was waking you up in the middle of your nightly walks scaring the shit out of you. He casually did it just a few steps near a set of stair which made you fall off.

After making sure you were in fact still alive he just laughed like a freaking maniac, dragged you to flugs rooms and after waking him up with a scream he left you there to be attended by him.

Whenever he sees you coming out of a room you didn't know about the night before or just entering the main gate after the night he just assumed you were in your own dreamy world. 🌚💤

Has transported you to your room every time he hear your near his office. Sometimes he even bother to open the door to see what the helm you're doing. 👀👀

Basically doesn't really intervene unless he's to bored or deems it absolutely necessary.

505 🐻:

He didn't really noticed your habits because he tends to sleep really well

But one night, he woke up to get a glass of water and he saw you walking in front of the bosses office trying to Transpass the door. 👻👻

He didn't quite understand what you were doing until he got close to you and saw your closed eyes .

He still didn't knew you were asleep so he started interacting with you trying to deduct why we're you acting so strange..🥸

Once you finally woke up, startled and confused, you explained to him that you were sleeping and to not worry to much.

Spoiler alert: he will worry to much.

Doesn't really understand why you do it but since you are so confident he will trust your judgement.

If 505 catches you out of your bed, you can be sure he's hugging you and carrying you back to you room, sometimes he has even dragged you to flugs room and lays you on the floor.

Flug almost tripped with your unconscious body in the morning. What a great way to get up 😃🖕

Doesn't care that you talk while sleeping. Since you don't have outbursts, you just tend to mumble, he can sleep peacefully even if your having a full blown rant about different types of hydric sources.

[vagabond-umlaut]

two shots of ristretto, please!

One must have heard of espresso, but ristretto? No?

Well, translated to 'restricted' in Italian, ristretto is another version of espresso, but of a sweeter and more intense quality than the latter— though, you reckon, there's no entity in this world, sweeter and more intense than that white-haired, blue-eyed enigma-turned-menace of yours.

▸ yakuza heir! gojo satoru x uni classmate! fem! reader; TIMESKIP; dad! gojo satoru x mom! reader; FLUFF AND HUMOR GALORE; popularising the headcanon that gojo is so terrifyingly gojo for everyone, except his crush; the said crush's smart & not dense, for the first time in my stories; there is yakuza so there's a gun and there's a tiny bit of violence; brief appearance of utahime, shoko, suguru & nanami; POST-TIMESKIP: the most adorable twins ever, sachiko and sachiro, are back, with tons and tons of fluff!!!!!

▸ belongs to the series 'tang!' — same universe as the work 'every rose and its 'twin prickles'' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i know i described the reader to be smart and stuff, but the thing is: she is smart, of sorts, that is. and the post-timeskip portion is tooth-rottingly fluffy but not for satoru; sachiko & sachiro will never let their papa get some loving from their dearest mama... AND this is 4.4k wc long— idk how i wrote so freaking much! anyways, whatever it is–

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Gojo Satoru was born with three things.  

His name. 

His looks.  

And, of course– the baggage certain to tag along with the above two. 

Cup of coffee languishing in the frost of your ignorance, you lock gaze, the first time, with the famous infamous scion of the Gojo’s, an awfully stormy morning at the café your friend works at.  

Said friend looks halfway on the path to sweet, sweet dreams, resting her head on folded arms on your table — smiling, you tuck a wayward strand of hair behind the shell of her ear, and return to your sly spying on the group seated couple of feet away. You think you see Gojo look at you yet another time — it must be an error of your eye, you reckon, given how he's giving a sharp grin to the man across from him, in the very next instant.  

Yeah, that's what it is. No one can possibly switch from shooting that level of thoughtful gaze to that level of feral grin in that short span of time. Yeah, it must have been a mistake of your silly eye.  

Anyways, whatever it is, to say you hate drawing attention to yourself will be the greatest understatement of the century— so you decide to look away for a beat, to avoid even the faintest hint of suspicion, eyes going back to the chemical reactions strewn across the mess you call notes— only to snap back to the white-haired boy, widening in horror from the click! then the scene crashing onto your brain.  

Gojo chuckles, eyes flitting from the gun aimed at the space between his eyebrows to the man holding it. "Aww," you register him croon, that self-sabotaging dumbass, "resorting to such cheap violence so quickly, Zenin-san? Grew tired of a civil conversation already? Tsk. What a pity." 

Another time and you think you'll consider this precise moment to be when you wake your friend up and slowly sneak away into the kitchen then out, via the back door. Another day and you know you'll consider this very second to be when you return your focus to your assignment on carbohydrates, all the while hoping you or your friend won't be cast into a brawl none of you are a part of— 

Too bad it isn't another time or another day, though.  

Biting back a grimace, you shut your laptop and rise from your chair with a loud clatter. 

"Forcing someone isn't really a nice way to make a deal, y'know," you hum, walking over to their table and plopping down onto the free seat next to Gojo, "what is better is to explain the pros and cons to the one opposite to you and try to convince them. Gently. And if that doesn't work, manipulate the hell out of them. But this?" you shoot the metal gun a disappointed glance, shaking your head, "this is a method even I know I shouldn't use to get my rival to agree to something, though I'm not from a criminal background." 

The man– Zenin, you correct yourself; the second largest yakuza clan right after Gojo's family, your memory supplies after a beat – gives a slow look from the weapon to you, a scowl appearing on his features. And barks – voice, a disgusting grating noise to your sleep-deprived self.  

"Who the fuck are you, girl? And why the fuck are you interfering in this?"  

You pause. Okay, this wasn't what you were expecting when you first strolled out here. You were expecting a yell, a scuffle; worst case, the gun aimed at your precious brain. But this? One question about your identity, and the other about your reason for approaching them? You haven't prepared yourself for this! 

Frowning, you cast a glance to your left, only to find the white-haired boy stare at you, staggered, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks; then at your friend who's snoring away like she doesn't give a damn about napping at work; then at the man glowering at you.  

You sigh, rubbing your temples. 

"Who the fuck I am... that's for me to know and for you to find out,” you answer, smirking, before growing serious again as you rush to explain, upon catching a murderous glint in the man’s eyes, “I mean, c'mon, y'all are the yakuza. This should be a piece of cake for you, shouldn’t it?"  

The man's glare only worsens in result; stamping down the apprehension in your mind, you continue, "And as for why the fuck I'm interfering in this—"  

You abruptly fall silent.  

Offering the boy beside you a panicky glance.  

Wondering what the hell you can say in reply. 

Should you say, "I've been listening to you threaten the poor boy for a good thirty minutes now, saying he's gonna face dire consequences, or some shit like that, if he doesn't share the area in the east with the Zenin's or refuses to marry their third daughter— who I'm pretty sure, y'all have made into nothing but a maid, a cook and a broodmare. Poor girl, being spoken of by her own family member to a stranger boy, as if she isn't a human being but something with no life or ambition. But, hey, how you raise your kids is honestly your own problem and I’m not here to drill some lesson into your head– though I guess, folks like you could really use some. Anyways, whatever the fuck it is, I'm here because I JUST CAN'T SEE ANOTHER BEING FORCED TO DO SOMETHING AGAINST THEIR WILL. AND I’M GONNA PROTEST AGAINST IT AS LONG AS I’VE A BREATH LEFT IN MY LUNGS." 

The inner-you tsks at the outer-you.  

You groan inwardly, shifting to the next plan already.  

So, must you say, "Gojo's my classmate, who has been sitting behind me since the first class of the year, and very weird to say, but I have also been finding him here at this coffee shop, every day I visit since that day, sitting at this specific table and scribbling in a notebook for hours at end— and, yeah, way weirder to admit out loud, but I guess I have also formed some kind of attachment to him? 'Cause of which, I feel, I get worried when I see him being actively threatened? And, yes, of course– all the while I totally ignore that he's next in line to a notorious criminal family or the fact that he's never even noticed me once before today." 

Another click! bounces off the walls into your ears, making you draw away from your mind back to the situation at hand. You settle for offering a shrug.  

"Why I'm here is because Gojo is one of my acquaintances and I just can't seem to stand someone being forced to do something against their will." 

Your statement earns a mocking laugh from the man, but before you rush to defend yourself and the fact you spoke the truth, a calloused palm rests on your forearm. Gojo's gaze flits from you to the gun still pointed at him then back to you. You feel a mild tremor in his fingers when they meet your skin. Good heavens, Gojo must be really scared, huh? 

His careful voice reaches you, a far cry from the haughty tone he was employing with the Zenin fellow earlier, "It's best if you leave now. Go take your friend and go away. And don't come back here. At least not until sometime later, yeah? Things are gonna get a hell lot messy and I don't want you to see that." 

For the first time in many days, the buzz of caffeine in your veins weakens, giving way to the thrum of worry you feel at Gojo’s words. Has this bastard already accepted his fate!? Hell no! Not if you can help it!!  

You give his arm a light pat. 

"While I leave you here, all alone, huh?" Shaking your head, you click your tongue. "Nope! Not gonna happen, mister. My parents raised me way better than that. Besides, you might not be knowing me but I've been knowing you for a while now, and despite what everyone says of you being the crown prince, or whatever, in the underworld — I ain't leaving you here, with your life at the mercy of a person who doesn't even have a shred of respect for others' freedom of choice and stuff." 

A noisy yawn sounds in the background, soon followed by a noisier series of snores. Gojo's mouth opens and closes a few times, like a funny fish, before he inquires, voice brimming with disbelief, "You... have noticed me? Since when?" 

You blink, then chuckle. "Of course, I have. Since the first day, if I'm being honest here," you reply, then add as a hasty after-thought, so that he doesn't see you as a weirdo, "I mean, it's tough not to notice you, y'know? Not when you're—" 

A deafening crash interrupts you in the middle of your sentence. You look away from the boy to find the man standing now, face contorted in a mix of fury and desperation while he shifts the gun's muzzle from Gojo to you, then back to Gojo, words leaving him in a harsh yell. 

"THE GIRL NOTICED YOU 'CAUSE YOU'RE THE GOJO SATORU AND YOU'RE HANDSOME AS FUCK. NOW, CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH? AND YOU — YOU SICK, SPOILT GOJO BRAT– YOU SAID YOU DON'T HAVE A MINUTE TO SPARE? BUT HERE YOU ARE, CHATTING YOUR LIFE AWAY WITH THAT GIRL—" 

A second deafening crash reverberates through the small shop– and you think you see your life flash before your eyes– but not before the man drops to the ground, most probably unconscious and hopefully not too damaged to lead a functional life, and very earnestly not dead. The gun clatters to the ground beside him. You turn to your classmate, eyes wide. Gojo returns your gaze, unblinking and slack jawed. 

Heart thundering in your ears, you hurry to explain yourself, "I–" 

"You smashed that plate on that guy's head." 

Gojo’s blunt words bring you to a still, making your eyes drift to the fragments of the unlucky glass plate, to the unluckier but-totally-deserved-it Zenin, then back to your classmate. A little more awe on the boy’s face and you think his jaw might hit the floor.  

You nod slowly. 

"Yeah, but as self-defence. I mean, you saw how eccentric that man was acting, right? I had to do something to protect both of us," you explain, looking away from the pair of blue eyes watching you closely, to your friend who still seems to be lost in the land of sleep (how much exactly did she drink last night, huh?) to your grey sneakers, voice growing mumbled with every other syllable you utter.  

"But that doesn't mean you've to feel some sort of debt towards me or anything. I too was kind of at mistake then, I guess... what with me rambling so fucking much when there was a literal gun at your head. I should have acted with more tact then – if I had done so, then maybe this mess could've been avoided. I mean, I've never seen these things before in my life, y'know? Except in TV shows, that is. Yet, this foolish me here thought she could just swoop in and save you like some sort of a hero..." 

Sullen, you trail off, face growing warm from embarrassment whilst your mind devises a plan on how to clear up the mess you created, many thanks to your foolhardy nature, when a muffled laugh reaches you. Gojo's eyes twinkle in enjoyment at the bewildered huff you give him.  

"You did save me like a real hero back then, y'know," he says, grinning a wide grin – before it disappears, making way for a much reserved, much shyer(??) version. A giggly voice within you whispers he looks just as sweet as he did with his cute dimples. The boy continues, carding a hand through his mess of white hair, with a casual glance at the man, "And, as for the mess you keep mentioning, don't you worry. Gun shots create more mess than a plate smashed on the head. And if I can clear that within a minute– this won't even take me a full second, Miss Hero. Don't you worry for this at all. But, yeah, thank you." 

Now, you don't really know if it was the sincerity in his voice as Gojo thanked you, or the fact that he has to clean up the mess you made in the first place, or the stunned feeling so clearly visible in the blue colour of his irises when you admitted to noticing him— whatever it is, you find yourself not wanting to leave anything unsaid between you both.  

Moreover, the realization that lives are considered extremely low-on-value in the world of crime, so much that guns are whipped out at the tiny disagreements or boasts are made on how quick a gunshot mess can be cleared by them — this realization doesn't make things any easier for you. 

Giving the injured man and your napping friend a momentary glance, you return your focus to Gojo, whose eyes are now narrowed at his mobile, and speak those words weighing heavy on your mind right now.  

"I really noticed you since the first day, Gojo," you say. The boy pauses his typing, confused gaze darting to you. "But not just 'cause you're the Gojo Satoru, or 'cause you're really pretty — which you totally are, by the way— but mainly because you had ambled into our first class, on the first day, a magnificent hour late, with your two friends— and my first thought seeing you was, what sort of a fucking entitled brat is this guy, sauntering in as if he owns the entire place." 

A beat passes before the boy erupts into chuckles, though the tense quality of them doesn't escape your notice. Pocketing his mobile, he shoots you a small smile. "And what about noticing me after that? It was just my name and looks which kept your attention hooked onto me, wasn't it?" 

The question– the mumbled way it was asked, more so– sends you into a brief bout of musing silence. Gojo's eyes remain trained on you the entire while — quite contrary to the innumerable adjectives you've heard to describe them: oceanic blue, sparkling blue, mesmerising blue, kind-of-startling blue– you think they're just... blue. So blue, you wonder if there's anything as blue as that gaze peering down at you.  

Perhaps not. 

Lips curving into a smile, you hum, "Yes and no. Yes, 'cause that was the main reason why my eyes kept trailing you whenever we were in the same place. No, 'cause they were the reasons only until I realised what kind of person you are, and how very different you're from what I first thought of you. I got new reasons after those." 

"Mind telling me those new reasons?" 

Gojo's nervous question widens the smile on your face. Casting your friend a glance — goodness, how many drinks did she really have at the party she went to last night — you reply, making your voice light and friendly, "Your personality made me curious. You are old money, with good looks to boot— you're literally the heartthrob of every girl on campus! Still, I've never seen you with anyone from them— never with anyone outside your group of three friends — though, I got to admit, the blond boy looks nothing less than constipated for a week, when he talks to you." 

That last comment draws a chuckle from the white-haired boy. The tightness in his shoulders seems to relax a bit, you note with relief. Face still carrying the same smile as before, you continue speaking.  

"And the second point which made me curious was how different you behave in different places. Your voice rings across the cafeteria every day during lunch yet you stay so quiet here for hours at end. You once said you've never been much of a book person, yet I always see you in this shop, immersed in your notebooks. And– what has struck me the most of all is the way you tend to go out of you way to annoy others – I've been sitting in front of you in class for a good three months now, yet you've never ever irritated me in the slightest. Kind of strange, ain’t it?" 

Stunned silence comes as the answer to your question, what with the addressed classmate of yours, rooted to his spot on the ground, blue eyes as round as the plate you had smashed on the man's head some time ago and the expression on Gojo's face, almost as if you've grown a couple of heads in the while you have been chatting with him.  

Or more like monologuing, now that you think about it.  

This guy is always so chatty with others: he was even then with that gun cocked to take his life — then why the fuck is he so unspeaking right now, eh? 

"Oh God, Satoru, I can't believe your plan of lurking in the places she goes to, to catch her eye, worked out!!" "Are you asking her out right now, bro?" "Can you all please move? It's raining like hell outside and I'm not really keen to get my leather jacket wet, thank you." 

The noisy rumbles of rain and thunder stream in through the opened door, before the latter is closed again, snapping you out of your internal monologue, a bit too sudden and harsh for your liking. Three pairs of eyes regard you with an utmost curiosity — you return them a blink before dragging your eyes away and looking at the boy a good foot away, only to find him resolutely staring at the overhead lights. Two pretty long (and pretty weird) seconds pass before you finally decide to tear your gaze away from him to the rain-soaked glass window of the eatery.  

A face with creased brows and warmed cheeks greets you from your reflection.  

Screwing your eyes tight shut in an attempt to ward off an annoying headache you can feel build up, slowly yet steadily, you let out a sigh.  

Friendship with the Gojo Satoru seems good enough but romance with the Gojo Satoru... that doesn’t seem half-as-good, right? 

Right? 

"Wrong." 

Your son's insistent voice, coupled by the tiny fist he slams down on the table, breaks you out of your reverie and you turn to find Sachiro wearing a frown, tears brimming in his eyes– eyes which move away from his father and sister to you, pinning your drowsy form beneath the weight of their moisture.  

Stifling a weary sigh, you place the menu card back on the table and coo, "Aw, Sachiro! What's wrong, baby? Are Papa and Sachiko saying mean things to you again? Are they still teasing you regarding today's incident?" 

Although, you suppose to yourself, catastrophe might suit what happened today, way more than the word 'incident'— what with the shrieks, cries and yells resounding through your flat in the short time you took to get ready for your Sunday lunch at a restaurant. Rubbing his eyes a little, the little boy scoots closer to you and nods weakly, wrapping his tiny arms round you. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you direct a stern look at the two sitting across from you.  

Sipping on the welcome drink, Sachiko just shrugs back at you.  

"I'm not the wrong person here, Mom. He is," your daughter explains, pointing a finger at her brother, then retracting it at your frown. Your husband snickers from beside her. “Yeah, sweetness, it’s Sachiro who’s wrong. Getting confused on when’s your birthday is no small mistake. Besides, our darling little munchkins taunt me the entire time if I ever make a mistake, no? Can’t see why they can’t stand a taste of their own medicine, then.” 

The sobs muffled into the cotton of your dress grow in intensity and misery. Sending her father a vicious stink eye, your daughter moves to observe you and her brother, a cute little frown on her face.  

"Okay, fine," she relents after a short beat, returning the lemonade to the table, "Guess I was a little wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have teased him so much, along with Papa, for messing up the date of your birthday. I also should not have said, he doesn't love you, some time back."  

A very weighted moment passes. The little girl jumps off her seat and reaches your side of the table, tiny arms reaching out to wrap around her brother. It takes a minute, and a small nudge from your side but soon enough, your two kids are hugging each other; Sachiro, a wailing mess, whilst Sachiko, being the older of the twins that she is, keeps saying 'sorry's' and patting his head, the exact same way their father does to them in times of their grave distress — when they throw a tantrum and get a nice long lecture from you, that is.  

Fond smile creeping onto your lips, you tear your gaze away from the two adorable angels of your life to your husband.  

Relieved to find him sans any teasing smile, you receive a gentle look from him, his hand reaching out to interweave his fingers through yours. You let him with a content hum, basking in the simple domestic joy seeping in through the sweetly scented air of the restaurant. A pair of plush lips press to your palm; biting back a giddy giggle, you throw the owner of said luscious lips a meaningful wink.  

Though... you doubt how much of your meaning could be conveyed to him... given how the two of you jerk back from each other a mere instant later, at the loud clearing of a throat from Sachiko and an angry 'Papa! Go away!' from Sachiro.  

Stomping back to her chair and settling into it with some effort and a huff, you watch an extremely pissed shadow form over the little girl's face, worsening as she twists and cranes her neck up to face her father. You really, really think your husband must not chuckle in this way in the face of such a thunderstorm— not when your daughter is shooting daggers with her gaze; and certainly not when your son is shooting that gloating smirk at him.  

Another time and you think you’ll look at that glare and at that smirk, then proceed to be on cloud-nine, realizing your children, despite being xerox copies of their father (both in looks and manners), did inherit certain features from you as well— something which a terribly competitive voice inside your head claims, is a great win— now, however, is decidedly no such time.  

Not when the person you’ve loved for these many years and know, will continue to do so for an eternity, looks one step away from being tormented to death– by none but the two milk-toothed lights of both of your lives.  

You watch Sachiko’s frown deepen, more than should be possible for someone her age, then begin. 

"Papa, I'm sorry but I have to break our deal. Sachiro is right. We two are the strongest duo of twins in the multiverse — we can't let you break our team this way. So, what if my brother makes a mistake? He's a young baby and babies are allowed to make mistakes, aren't they?"  

You wonder if she truly understands she was born a mere six minutes prior than her brother... and not six whole years, as appears to be the case right now. Holding back chuckles, you spare the person, addressed in the ‘not-really-apology' apology, an amused glance, then nod your head solemnly at her words.  

"They are, baby. They so are," you agree in the very next instant, then ask, a genuine inquiring inflection to your tone, "But what deal did Papa make you agree to, baby? Sounds pretty serious to me, to be honest." 

"Oh, it wasn't anything, sweet cheeks," your husband begins with an awfully nervous-sounding chortle; too bad, your daughter is quick to beat him to it. Throwing him a smirk, you can only describe to be devious, she looks back at you and grins. "Two weeks back, Papa found me in the living room, late at night, staring at shooting stars through the windows. And I found him walking away from the kitchen, eating a giant chocolate bar. Papa said you’ll be very mad because we didn’t listen to what you said, so, we should make a deal and become a team to keep this a secret from you." 

"Papa made that deal– only to divide us. So, our strong team can be destroyed and he can easily defeat us and keep you all for himself, Mama," your son chips in, puffy eyes narrowed into a very hard glare. Your daughter agrees vehemently from the opposite side.  

Your eyes drop to the glass of lemonade before you; you try your best to stifle the yawn.  

This fight over your affection has been going on since the time your children turned four or so... and despite them nearing an age of six in few months, no end can be seen in the horizon, to this war raging within your home...  

And as for the matter of Sachiko being awake way past her bedtime? You reckon you can't really do much on this, other than repeating the rules and the reasons behind each one of them– especially of punctuality and an adequate sleep– to her, like you did the last time... though, you think of toning your lecture down a little this time, considering it wasn't a video game but a meteor show she had stayed awake for... besides you too used to be — okay, no, wait, what??? 

Your husband's sheepish grin collides with the incensed glare you aim his way over the table. Letting out a frustrated huff of an exhale, your face turns away from his, choosing to stare at itself in the clean glass windows instead — too, too mad to acknowledge that white-haired, blue-eyed menace of yours, whining apologies with a pitiful gaze.  

You screw your eyes shut and let out a sigh. 

Being married to the yakuza king, Gojo Satoru, is a story, you deem, it couldn’t have been better, but being married to the sweet fiend, Gojo Satoru?  

Oh, sweet– no, strike that, you fucking hate that word—  

Oh, sour heavens above.  

That's a different story altogether. 

▸ if you've reached this point and still love me and/or my writing, istg I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. writing something inspired by one's self-ship is so satisfying but so difficult, ngl. A BIG TYYY TO YOU WHO IS READING THIS LINE RN AFTER READING THIS MONSTROSITY OF A ONESHOT *sniffles*

▸ masterlist

[thirstkanaphan]

Thirst Gets Lore-Pilled (Part 4/?)

I decided to lock in and immerse myself in Ateez lore! Thank you to @loving-that-officey-feel for being my guide and curator (their quotes are in italics). With their permission, I'm posting some of our interactions as I go through the different eras.

It's time for Fever 3! Deja Vu is among the more consequential music videos in terms of lore.

The boys are being chased by drone machines (android guardians) and there are lots of recurring motifs that I've come to recognize, such as the hourglass in the constellations of light, blue butterflies, and thunder/lightning. Of course the most important part is when the members encounter Halateez in glass coffins, locked in stasis yet aware of their presence.

The coda of the mv features Yeosang with the cromer, which is smashed! Per the advice of my lore tutor, I am saving the diaries for after I've watched the relevant content for Fever 3 so I expect to gain more context later.

BUT!!

Thirst, you say...?

The Deja Vu performance for MNET contains some more clues, such as the repeated use and allusion to "blue light" and blue in general being a dominant color-way of this cb.

@loving-that-officey-feel: I think the fact that Deja Vu is so clearly referencing The Matrix, and famous scene in the matrix is "This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill - the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill - you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."

It's clear Deja Vu is setting up a lot of story that we won't get to for a while yet.

You would think that Eternal Sunshine would be a relatively straightforward watch in comparison to Deja Vu, but I have been affected by my lore tutor's intriguing theories that something is not right about Eternal Sunshine. I'm inclined to agree: they're in this urban landscape full of color but devoid of life. There's a train going to nowhere. It's actually a very alienating set piece, despite the upbeat energy of the song.

I'm strangely reminded of Turbulence: another mv marked by its empty cityscape. They are tonally different, but with striking similarities, including that Wooyoung starts flying on both.

ok, this is what I will say about Eternal Sunshine... question 1) why does everyone have all these really put together, clean, fresh summery bright colour outfits.... while San has a ripped grey sweater ensemble that looks a lot like his clothes in Answer.... when San is the one who pulls Wooyoung out of the world/dream(?) at the end... San... who is in the garden prison in Wonderland..

Lots of stuff to chew on!

At the end of Eternal Sunshine it starts "snowing" or at least something is falling down around them, which also reminds me of Answer.

I'm urged to listen to the lyrics of Eternal Sunshine: "If you could only keep one memory / which one would you choose?"

Now for the diaries! We have some background for World Z and I'm really not digging the idea of an industrial revolution that expands our lifespan for 200 years. More labor for capital!

But then follow that question with: 'how old does that make Halateez?'

oooh!

We return to the cliffhanger that ended Fever 2: the boys are consumed by the hallucinations conjured by the gas and Yunho is able to talk Left Eye out of his grief-spiral (clearly drawing on his own barely-processed grief over the death of his older brother).

The people of World Z witness these actions and claim: "Those boys will be able to save the Black Pirate." INTERESTING! These World Z people know more than they are saying!

The members take the ship to infiltrate the android guardian's bunker where they encounter Men in Black Fedora (Halateez) in their glass prison, directly referencing the Deja Vu music video.

Despite them being separated by glass, Halateez are able to communicate with our boys. More than that, Halateez are able to transfer their energies/powers to the boys: "Soon after, we were wearing their black suits without even noticing." HOW??!!

We learn that the leaders of World Z are able to control the population by extracting their cherished memories and burning them for fuel (Eternal Sunshine lyrics!) and the smoke created from the burning is like an opiate subduing the masses.

Yeosang is captured and the Guardians threaten to kill him if Hongjoong and the members don't give up the Cromer. Yeosang would rather die than give up the Cromer (😭) and utters the most heartbreaking sentence:

"My friends would not have all been scattered if I had not met them at first"

noooo!!!! I hate/love that Yeosang is the one captured, given he is ostensibly the reason they found a home in the first place AND the reason it got taken away.

Yeosang smashes the Cromer, sending the boys back to World A without him. Yeosang is captured to be held prisoner and tortured by the robots in the glass case (of emotion) we find him in Say My Name!

We end Fever 3 with Ateez back in their world. They need to a) get back to World Z somehow with no Cromer and b) save Yeosang AND Halateez!

Now I see why the Snow White imagery for GH3 is so intriguing, given that Yeoang is essentially entombed in a glass coffin at the end of Fever 3.

@loving-that-officey-feel left me with some interesting observations:

now that you've read this diary in particular... think about the fact that Halateez: have magic powers, a magic ship, and had the Cromer. They are the biggest threat to Z. But they have been captured. The Android Guardians could easily yank thier memories (and later when you see Z's government publicly hanging and shooting people in the streets... just straight up kill them).

Halateez are the current biggest threat. Why are they alive in the glass cases with thier memories in tact when it would be much better for Z if they were not?

Why are the android guardians/Z keeping Halateez alive but imprisoned?

Do we know the source of Halateez's power? Are they not from World Z or World A but from somewhere else? Are we in a time loop? These may be questions no one has answers for yet, but I am curious to see what theories I'll develop as I wade deeper into the waters of the lore.

Nest up is Fever: Epilogue!

[triptychcryptid]

We all know how awesome Linda and Shermie are. Time to air their dirty laundry. XD Flaw time!

Shermie:

Always misplacing his reading glasses, DESPITE the fact that he had lasik years ago and has good vision otherwise. They're ALWAYS on his shirt collar or in his pocket.

Really struggled with showing affection to his son at first because of how he was raised. But simultaneously spoiled him for the first few years to over compensate for how he was treated and because he almost lost Jason. By the time Jason's 3, he's a bit of a brat and Linda and Shermie start turning things around. Shermie is MUCH better about showing affection and saying "I love you" to his son and Dipper now.

Constantly forgetting the keys to his office. Linda has taken to bringing a spare set, but on days when they don't go in to work together, he has to pick the lock. It's such a thing that his work buddy will stroll up, sipping a coffee in one hand, holding one for Sherm in the other, and when Sherman's done, he goes "What's your time?"

"3.75 minutes."

" Nice! That's down 30 seconds from Tuesday."

Stan taught him how to do it when Sherman was 8, thinking it would be funny. What he did NOT consider, despite Ford's warnings was that subsequently, Sherman got into ALL of the Stans' stuff. Because he could pick the lock to their rooms. He would like to just throw Ford's clothes and bedding on his floor and make a little nest. Then leave it there. XD And start going through Stan's drawings and doodle in his notebooks and textbooks. Sometimes he'd leave candy or drawings in there for them though, so they couldn't stay TOO mad at him.

Gets WAY too into things sometimes. Like he'll sit down and read an entire book series over the course of a couple of days. Same with tv shows. He'll sit and watch a show from like 7:00 p.m to 8 in the morning sometimes. XD Linda found a way to wire the tv and lights in the livingroom to a switch upstairs and will get up and flip the switch, shutting down the lights and tv and yell "GO TO BED!" From upstairs. XD

PEN. CLICKING.

Refuses to rest when he's sick.

Snores like a Bear.

Works himself to the bone and can often be found asleep at his desk at home, his armchair, the couch, or the kitchen table. Linda has to akwardly half pick him up and take him to bed when he does this.

Linda:

Chronic sock stealer. She's constantly misplacing her socks and steals Sherman's

Chronic sweater stealer. She claims it's because his are warmer, really it's because she likes the way he smells and wearing his sweaters is comforting to her. It drives him insane though because she takes his NICE sweaters that he wears to work sometimes. Once Mabel got good at making sweaters and Sherman found out the REAL reason Linda took his sweaters, he started buying material for Mabel to make Linda more sweaters (space themed) and would put a dab of his cologne near the collar when it was finished. Solved that problem xD

Blanket hog.

Gets too into Soap Operas. She, Stan, her sister and one of her brothers would get into a show, then call each other on a 4 way line every week to watch the show together, and they would ALL be yelling. Sherman would have to come down and be like "LINDA! I just got Jason to sleep! If you wake him up, there will be hell to pay!" So she angrily stage-whispers for the rest of the show instead. XD

Can handle a lot of stress, but when she reaches her threshold, she gets snappy. This is about the time Sherman takes Jason out to do stuff for the next few days.

Sounds like Gollum when she snores. Dipper and Mabel can't help but laugh at both of them when they sleep over.

Becomes an absolute baby when she's sick.

Despite her areas of the house (side of their room and her office) being messy 80% of the time, GOD FORBID Sherman leave some clothes on the floor of the bedroom. He'll get an earfull. To which he points out her mess. XD

They are both in a pissing contest with their neighbors over the Christmas lights. The Pines win because of Linda's engineering abilities, but whenever a neighbor gets a new decoration, Sherman and Linda have to add like 5. XD

[fandom-lover2]

Deep In The Woods, Something Lingers In The Trees

Chapter Thirteen - Where'd You Find A Key

Chapter Twelve - Time To Wake Up

Chapter Thirteen - Family Isn't Only Blood

I hummed as I headed to the break room, unhooking my coat and preparing to shrug it on when Rodney came bursting into the room and began rifling through draws.

He’d been jumpy today, refusing to make eye contact with me or Dodge.

That wasn’t usual, but it was worse today.

And Dodge kept glaring at me. Guess yesterday was still fresh in everyone’s minds.

Only, he kept skirting Caesar’s cage each time he passed it, slipping his taser from his belt and charging it as he took the risk of walker closer to Rocket’s cage.

And Caesar was continuing to ignore me. But now Rocket was also watching me strange. His ‘I hate you and want to sink my fangs into you’ was now a ‘you are a weird human’ look. Not to mention Buck was in a better mood, not even flinching when I approached this afternoon with a small watermelon.

This place would never stop being one big mystery.

“Everything ok?” I asked, pausing with my coat halfway up my arms.

The vet jumped at my words, turning and fidgeting. “I thought I had more food.” he mumbled so softly I barely heard him.

I frowned slightly.

I knew he slept here, turning the sofa in his clinic into a pull-out bed, Dodge and John leaving at the end of each day. I’d never thought about food.

“Can’t you just go get some more?” I asked. “Or order take out?”

He shook his head, turning and rummaging through a drawer again, pulling out an oat bar. I knew the brand, and they had changed their wrapping almost two years ago. That one still had the old wrapping on. “I can’t leave the apes unsupervised. And I don’t have the cash for take-out. My mom was sick this month and needed to go to the doctor.”

My heart broke for this man.

Mistreated by Dodge, broken down by the world, unappreciated and overworked. If he wasn’t so skittish, I would have given him a hug.

“I can stay with them if you wanna go out and restock?” I proposed, taking off my coat and tossing it towards the counters.

He looked up to me, finally meeting my eyes. He was hopeful, but apprehensive. But then he changed his mind with a shake of his head. “It’s ok. I’ll be-”

“Either you go, or I go and buy a bunch of stuff and come back. Then you’ll have to unlock the front gate and door again, and it’ll be a whole lotta work on your end. Just go. They’re all locked away and most are asleep already.”

He frowned, thinking it over. Eventually, he agreed with a quick nod. “I won’t be long. Maybe 45 minutes?”

I smiled, following him and he went back to his clinic to grab his car keys and coat. “Don’t rush. I have nowhere else to be.”

Locking the lobby door behind him, and pressing the front gate closed after his car, I went back to the break room and sat down.

That lasted less than a minute before I was bored and standing up again.

This would be the perfect time to walk around and see if there was another way out. A way to open the cages without the keys, a back entrance I hadn’t found yet. Anything that could give a clue on how to start getting them out.

With it being so quiet, I’d hear the gate bell ring when Rodney returned, so I wouldn’t have to stay waiting by the door.

Slipping into the main floor as quietly as I could, I began to tiptoe down the ramp and across the floor.

I eyed everything as best I could in this low light, only the flashing black and white from the TVs above and the full moon through the dusty sky lights my guides.

I tried, I really did, but I didn’t have his brain. I didn’t play chess for fun, I didn’t do problem solving board games for entertainment, I did puzzles when there was really nothing else to do. That was it.

He could look at this and have a solution in five minutes, I’d be here all night still trying to figure out what each lever did.

I needed his help. If he wasn’t being such a stubborn ass-

I turned, intending on heading back to Caesar’s cage and try once again to get him to look at me, when I was met with a tall, dark figure at the end of the passage.

I gasped, taking a step back.

Fuck! Fucking, fucking, fuck!

An ape had gotten out, and here I was alone with nothing but maybe a shoe to throw at them.

Of course, this was how I was going to die. My worst fear come to life just to end it.

The ape took a step forward, on his hind legs so he stood taller than me and bigger than me.

He took another step, and I took a step back, swallowing.

My mouth was dry, my heart pounded so hard I could feel it banging against my ribs as it pounded in my ears as my limbs locked up, releasing only briefly to tremble before tensing again.

The ape took a third step forward, washing himself in the glow of the TV high above, and my entire body heaved a sigh of relief.

“Caesar! God, you are such a jerk!”

I raised a hand to my still fluttering chest, taking a couple breaths in and readjusting my stance so I didn’t fall over on now shaky legs.

Was this much adrenaline in such a short amount of weeks good for a person? Because if not I was gonna be dying pretty soon. Not after I hugged my best friend though.

Wait, hugged?

I looked up, back across the space to him.

Holy shit! Caesar was out!

I could run over and hug him, and hit him for scaring me, then hug him again and…

A scream filled my ears, Caesar’s teeth bared as he slammed his fists down over and over again, grabbing ahold of his hand and biting his finger clean off.

This was the first time I was with him since then that a cage didn’t separate us.

My body tightened again, that fear once again taking hold.

But I looked at him, and he was just as unsure.

He looked about as scared as I did, head down and eyes raised uncertainly as he watched me, waiting to see what I would do.

Neither of us knew what to do, what to say, how to react.

I was scared, of him, of what he could do, what he did do. But I also understood. Hell, I’d run over there and shoved the guy first and only after he rounded and prepared to do whatever to me and Charles did Caesar come in to defend his family.

Did he go over the top, yes. But he was still a wild animal. ALZ 112 or not, he was a chimpanzee. No amount of training and rearing would change that. He did what instinct told him to.

But he was also more. He was Caesar, my friend, my brother.

He would never, ever, hurt me.

In hindsight, I should have warned him, but in that moment I had my Caes back and nothing would keep me from him.

I charged, slamming into him and wrapping my arms around his neck. With his lack of balance in this stance, we toppled over, landing heavy on the cold cement floor.

But it didn’t matter. His arms were around me already too, face buried in my neck as he began to chitter softly.

Tears burned my eyes, but I didn’t pull away to wipe them. Laying on his chest, my arms around him, I soaked in the feel of home.

His fur, coarse and warm, the leathery skin of his hands, the hard muscles hidden beneath the fur.

He was here. My Caesar was right here, and I could hold him again and feel at ease.

“I’ve missed you so much.” I whispered, holding onto him with all I had.

He squeezed back, his hold on me tightening for just a moment, before he released and began to sit up, me still in his hold.

So here we were, an ape and a girl sitting on the dirty floor of a shithole sanctuary. What an odd sight we’d make.

“How the hell did you even get out?” I questioned, pulling away from him.

He raised his arms and signed, “Later.” Before standing and beginning to pull me up.

I followed him, my hand in his own and he moved to switch on the main lights before pulling me to the storeroom.

“Get the stuff to clean.” he signed, before walking out the room.

Cleaning supplies? How would cleaning supplies help us? How would cleaning supplies get him out?

But, he was a genius and had somehow managed to free himself from locked cage while I still couldn’t figure it out with the key so I listened, grabbing a bucket, mop and broom, and a pair of gloves.

He stood waiting for me at the door to the free space, and walked into the room with confidence, so I trusted him and followed.

I then proceeded to drop the supplies and almost pee my pants when I made it halfway into the room and found Buck standing in the center of the room.

The noise of dropping the stuff aggravated the massive gorilla, causing him to grunt and back up.

Oh god, I really was going to die.

Caesar stepped between us, hands raised and palms down in a placating manner, looking between the two of us calmly.

Instantly, I remembered the rules of dealing with apes and I dropped my eyes and turned my shoulders inwards as I ducked sideways. A clear sign of submission, a plea for him to understand I wasn’t a threat.

“Caesar! The hell?” I whisper-yelled, waiting for death.

The chimp grunted, turning his back to the gorilla to look at me fully. “It’s ok.”

If I wasn’t so scared of pissing off the male gorilla, I would have shot a glare at the chimp.

“Ok? This is…”

Hang on a second.

Buck wasn’t attacking. He wasn’t even moving. And he also wasn’t in his cage. The cage that was beyond dirty and I conveniently had cleaning supplies scattered at my feet.

I looked up to throw Caesar my best pissed off scowl. “You really are mean. You could have just explained it.”

He shrugged and then smirked at me.

I debated hitting him upside the head with the broom, but we didn’t have much time.

I let my eyes slip from his for just a moment, catching Buck’s brown eyes briefly before I dropped the gaze. “Hi Buck.” I whispered. “Let’s get you a nice clean cage, hmm?”

He was watching me wearily, keeping a good amount of space between us.

As much as I was terrified of him, he probably had just as much uncertainty about me.

All he knew from humans was anger and fear and that cage and bad food and mistreatment.

It was a long shot and would take a hell of a lot longer than one night, but I hoped that I could show him not everyone wanted him hurting. Or at least I didn’t.

Moving slowly, no sudden moves, I headed over to the birdcage like enclosure and tried not to breathe.

It took a lot of scrubbing, but I was one determined motherfucker, and in about 40 minutes it went from shit stained to spotless.

Adding some extra straw, because I could, I left the cage and stepped into the free space again.

Buck was busy with what I could only describe as zoomies, running around and scaling the fake trees before jumping down and pushing the tire swing around before darting off again.

Stretching out and getting his energy out before he was forced back into that tiny cage, no doubt.

It was both adorable and heart breaking, watching him enjoy what was probably his first taste of freedom in so long he’d forgotten.

Caesar sat nearby, watching his new friend. He’d made sure to keep himself between us the whole time, though I was beginning to see that was just to help keep me calm.

For all his rage and hate he put behind that cage, Buck didn’t seem at all interested in hurting me or even getting close.

But time was up and Rodney would be back soon.

Caesar knew this, leaping from his perch on the rocks and landing beside me, calling out to Buck.

With one final wistful look around, Buck followed Caesar’s prompts and began to head towards us, towards his prison.

I moved aside, keeping my head down and body open.

Only, he didn’t pass us. He stopped in front of me.

And I thought standing beside Caesar was intimidating…

With Caesar, when he stood on his hind legs, you could sense there was power behind that posture. The primal side of you knew he had more strength, more smarts.

With Buck, his presence demanded you to know he could squash you like a bug. I was eye level to him and he was on all fours, his size alone commanding my body to freeze in place.

The space around him buzzed, and it seemed as though the air knew to part around him, leaving me with a tight chest and feeling suffocated.

Caesar reached over, taking my hand in his own and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Slowly, I lifted from eyes from Buck’s hands to his face.

We looked at one another for a few moments, time having no meaning as I allowed myself to be exposed to this beautiful creature, my soul laid out for him to pick apart.

He didn’t sign, didn’t nod, didn’t smile or do anything, but I heard his words. ‘Thank you.’

“You’re welcome.” I whispered, I think. I honestly don’t think I even spoke at all, but he heard me.

He slipped back into his cage, and Caesar reluctantly locked him back inside, using a pocketknife tied to some sticks.

“Where did you get that?” I questioned, gathering the cleaning supplies and heading back to the storeroom.

Of course, I didn’t get an answer. Which was honestly answer enough.

“Is that why Dodge was being weird today?”

He shrugged.

“Oh my god, Caesar.” I rolled my eyes at him, but then another thought barged in. “Wait, did you steal Rodney’s food so he’d leave and I could do this?”

I spun to face him, and for all his great talents, hiding his guilt was not one of them.

“You will return that food to it’s rightful place right now, do you understand me?” I threatened, throwing in a pointed finger for good measure.

Of course. Leave it to Caesar to do something like that.

But, he hadn’t been selfish in his actions. What he did got me the chance to clean out Buck’s cage and, apparently, make a friend in the process.

“How’d you know I wanted to do that?” I put the bucket and mop away, closing the door behind me as we headed to Caesar’s cage.

“Your eyes.” he signed back. “You always looked so sad when you left him.”

I huffed, a sad smile tugging my lips. Yeah he’d notice. That’s what he did.

From the break room, the bell for the gate sounded. Rodney was back.

I sighed, opening my arms and wrapping them around Caesar’s middle when he pulled me into him. “I’m gonna get you all out. I just need a little more time.”

He pulled back just enough to sign to me with one hand. “The food is in the cupboard in Dodge’s desk.”

I started laughing, letting him go when he pulled away and locked himself back in his own cage. “You are such a troublemaker.”

He shrugged, which was right. Honestly, it was hard to think on a day when he wasn’t pulling some prank.

“Goodnight, Caesar.” I called over my shoulder, hitting the main lights and making my way back to the office.

[yourlovelywriter]

Mine to have (Yandere Agatha harkness x reader) part one.

Idek man… I hope yall like it. :)

I don’t prof read cause idc. Good luck understanding you might need it. 🙏

(Warnings— yandere behavior, rough handling, blood, jealousy, unusual gifts, sexual behavior, Lustful intent… kidnapping.)

Also sorry for the long beginning.:(

It was late at night when you were organizing the books at the library. It was unfortunately your average evening. Not that you hated being a librarian, I mean you loved the silence and the ambiance, but when night hits it’s like a whole other world, a weird one.

Up until now the night shift has been fine, no problems or issues. But for the past few days it’s like someone has been watching you, you feel eyes on you when your back is turned, you see shadows out of the corner of your eye, and you hear noises.

Overall it’s creepy as hell. And the non working lights in the library don’t help.

When you hear a noise you jump. You freeze a moment before turning to look in the direction of the sound. Seeing nothing you grab your phone for a light and you slowly walk down the aisle of bookshelves.

Looking down you see a book on the floor, “What the hell?” You mumble and bend down to pick it up. “I am watching you…” you whisper as you read the cover. Totally not creepy.

You look around for where the book fell of the shelve but there’s no empty space. Confused you look around the area but nothing. You walk back to your desk and set the book down with a sigh. The good thing is you’d only have to be there for another hour.

Surly enough, nothing else happened during the hour and you finally locked up and left.

The next day you wake up to a text.

Emily/boss: hey, I know you just worked night shift but Caroline never came in this morning and I need help. Can you come?

You groan and throw yourself into your pillow. Of course you wanted to stay home and sleep. But you sort of have a crush on Emily and you don’t want to disappoint her.

Y/n: yeah sure, not a problem. I’ll see you there! :)

Throwing your phone down you sigh annoyed. Looking around you realize you haven’t really done laundry. You walk to your dresser and see a cute knee length dress. You pair it with some colorful tights, boots, a scarf, and your jewelry of course.

Making your way to the door you throw on a coat and grab your phone and keys.

Once at the little library you set your stuff down and see Emily. “Emily! I’m here. I can see why you needed some help. There’s a lot of people in here today.” You say as you look around. There really is a lot of people. It’s weird really.

“I know right, we hardly ever have one person walk in, let alone 20 people…” Emily laughs and looks around. “Right, well, I’ll go to the counter to check people out if needed.” You say and move over to your chair. As you turn on your computer you notice the book from last night still on your desk.

A shiver runs down your spine as you stare at it. Suddenly a voice draws you out of your trance and you look up quickly. It’s a tall woman, dark brown hair, piercing eyes, and a grin on her face.

“Hello dove, I’m not interrupting am I?” Her voice is smooth, welcoming even. “O-oh of course not, I was just.. looking at something- it doesn’t matter. What can I do for you?” You stamper out quickly, slightly embarrassed.

“Well, dove, I’m trying to grow my knowledge, if you will, expand my horizons. But I just don’t know where to start.” She practically purrs out. He voice sends a shiver down your spine but you try not to lead into it.

“Of course what books are you interested in?” You question and she smirks. “Well I was thinking romance maybe.. do you have anything that’s worth my time?” Her eyes scan you up and down, committing it all to memory. You clear your throat before responding

“Of course there’s some in the back if you’d like me to show you, Mrs…”

“Oh! Agatha, Agatha Harkness… and it’s Ms. Not Mrs, dove.” She responds and you blush.

“Of course, my apologies. But if you’ll follow me I’ll take you to the back.” You say standing. Leaving your phone and wallet behind. “We have a variety of romantic novels. We have cliche romances, hallmark style, hmm.. we also have some more on the obsessive style if that’s more your thing.”

“Oh you have no idea” Agatha reply’s with a smug grin. “I like this one.., it looks like a good book. Don’t you think Y/n ?” She asks and picks up a dark romance book. One about a young woman who’s taken hostage by her boss and falls in love.

“Oh, yeah sure.. I haven’t read it but it’s got great reviews.” You say shyly. Then your brows furrow. “How do you know my name?” You question. Agatha passes for a moment but then laughs, “it was on your name tag silly.” Calming down a bit you blush. “Oh sorry..”

Agatha’s eyes look at your body with an intensity that could only be described as hunger. She swallows hard before moving closer to whisper something.

“Hey Y/n there’s a line at the counter!” Emily yells suddenly. Stopping Agatha in her tracks. She scowls before composing herself.

“I’m so sorry, if you’d wait a second I’ll come help you..” you whisper to Agatha and rush to the front counter. Emily smiles at you and rubs your shoulder as you sit down.

Agatha takes note of this and doesn’t like it one bit. How dare she, how dare that insignificant being lay their hands on something that was hers?! It was anarchy.

After dealing with the line Emily asks you to go for lunch. Completely forgetting Agatha you agree. “Sure I’ll come. Let me just grab my phone and wallet.” You rush to grab your stuff but your phones gone. “Huh… I could have sworn I placed it here somewhere…” you mumble.

“Looking for something?” A low voice comes from behind you. You jump slightly and cover your mouth. “Oh gosh, you scared me..” you cover your heart.

“Oh I’m sorry dove, I didn’t mean to” Agatha rubs your cheek with her finger. Her eyes look down to your lips and she smiles slightly. “I’m looking for my phone yeah..” you respond slightly nervous and you back up a bit.

Agatha’s smile fades at your move and her hands start to reach for you but she clinches her fists. “It wouldn’t happen to be this one would it?” She asks and holds up your phone. You look surprised.

“Yeah it is where did you find it?” You let her set it in your hands.

“Oh it was on the bookshelf where we were talking dove, you set it there before we were..” she paused for a moment then her voice hardens a bit, “rudely interrupted” she finishes.

“Right well… thanks for bringing it back. But we’re closing for lunch so..” as you walk to the door and open it for her to leave she doesn’t move.

Her smile is thin and doesn’t reach her eyes, “we? Whose we” she asks sort of demandingly. You stand confused a bit but you soon reply. “Me and the manager. But I’ll open back later if you wanna stop by.” You stand waiting for her to follow you out. She smiles at your words then walks out.

“Of course I’ll come by then.. but what restaurant are you going to…” Agatha says suddenly. You look up at her.

“I don’t know.. whatever Emily chooses i guess.” Her face hardens again. “Ah Emily yes.. she’s the object of your affection I suppose” her voice holding back venom. She quickly puts on a smile and leaves, “I’ll see you later dove.” You finally sigh and shut and lock the doors. “How unusual” you mummer as you walk to Emily’s car.

“Sorry, a customer was holding me up..”

At the restaurant you and Emily hit it off. You really do like her. Her smile, her laugh, personality… she has it all.

“Im so glad you came with me. I’m having a wonderful time” Emily says tenderly as she places her hand onto yours rubbing gently. You blush.

Agatha never did come to the library later that night. But you didn’t think about that much. Only the fact Emily was acting interested.

At your apartment you walk in and throw your stuff down. “Fuck that’s heavy” you grunt as it hits the floor. You walk into the kitchen and realize the light is on. “Shit i must have left it on.. now the light bills gonna be high. Just what I need.” Switching it off you grab a cookie off the counter and go sit in the living room with the tv on.

Suddenly your phone buzzes. “Who is texting at this time of night?” You whisper annoyed, though secretly hope it’s Emily.

Unknown: why would you do this to me.

Your brow furrows and you look confused.

Y/n: who is this and how did you get my number?!

You type quickly.

Unknown: you dare let another woman touch you, to laugh with you when you know what that does to me!

“What the fuck..” you mutter.

Y/n: look if this is a joke it isn’t funny.

Unknown: I love you Y/n, I really do, and it pains me to know you would see another woman. Which is why I have to do what I needed to do a year ago.

You stare at your screen shocked. Who the hell was this?! And what were they talking about?!

Y/n: what do you mean?!?

Y/n: hello!?!

No reply, nothing. You set your phone down and decide you need to calm down.. you start to worry about what this person meant by, “do what I needed to do a year ago.”

You lay in bed and start to relax a bit. Not wanting to think about it. And just as soon as you close your eyes the door creaks. Your eyed shooting open. A tall figure is standing in your door.

Okay so… this is a part 1 I guess. I don’t want to leave it like this but do you guys want me to add more?

[randdont]

BLAZE & SURGE. I have never finished a drawing of them interacting and I've got one in progress but I'm wauyyy too impatient to wait and spill all my thoughts about them under the cut of that so hey. My 1 follower. Listen listenlistenlistenli

Surge and her attempts at heroics didn't really work out. She tried it, it was boring, Kit created problems for her to solve (IDW #78), and once she found out, she gave it up. Kit wasn't going to be a villian without her. But Sonic&co wouldn't leave her alone, "[she was] almost there", "[she's] a good person deep down", etc. In order to get them off her back, she went out of her way to be an ass. She got into petty but gnarly fights. She estranged herself from Kit, half a genuine attempt to be cruel and half because she didn't want Kit going down with her. She became, somehow, more nasty than ever before, and reveled in it, hating herself and wanting to be worse.

The Sol Emeralds only ever called Blaze to Mobius when there was some world-ending type threat. She visited pretty often, whenever the Sol Dimension was in a peacetime she would check in on her friends. And half the time, they were in the wake of something that was decidedly not enough of a calamity for the Sol Emeralds to have summoned her. She did not like this. Even if it strained her awfully, Blaze wanted to know every time that there was a threat on Mobius and be there to fix it herself. But, visiting daily, as would be required to deal with these kinds of issues, was not an option. She tried it, and the Sol Empire suffered due to her drained energy and the Emeralds' sapped power. So she ended up just going to Mobius whenever she could afford to, and picking over every crook in every city and town and whatever stamping out everything that might end up being a problem.

And then :) they :) encounter each other :)

Like isn't there a lot you can do with that??? Blaze (I-can-and-have-to-fix-and-then-subsequently-protect-every-thing-and-person) meet Surge (I-am-fundamentally-incapable-of-being-a-good-person-and-therefore-have-to-"seem"-evil-so-people-will-fuck-off)

anndnsbddbensn And they're like so bad for each other? But also good? They both lock onto the other as the Biggest Problem and the Perfect Way To Prove [whatever] and therefore can't mess with anything else. If Blaze messes up or misses something or doesn't save someone she has no time to worry about it because Surge is actively seeking her out and Surge forgets about her pick-a-buff-guy-and-goad-them-into-punching-you-first strategy because Blaze is actively trying to Fight Her Back and theyyyygjghg

I was trying to keep this all in past tense but whatever. Guys. "No harm must come to anyone" vs "I have to hurt everyone around me and myself" gyys. guys. guys.

And then they become friends :(((( and euhrhfg

Tagging this with ship stuff because like. I think thats what people do. Like yeagh cool character dynamic and it wouldn't be weird for them to kiss so 👍 they should

But like. I need them to fight each other and be friends and they hate what the other person is doing but they love the other person and theuggghhgg

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

okay so i had a nap and dreamt about a weird fucking au again. basically like the idea was that as both like, a genuine albeit Extremely Bad attempt to try and understand and help metal after her breakdown in heroes and bc it'd be extremely fucking disrespectful power move to do to sonic, instead of just keeping him locked up for six months in forces eggman basically fused them by cybernetically altering sonic and forcibly uploading metal into like a chip in his brain so she could be the real sonic and he had his arch enemy turned into a loyal minion while also forcing him to watch as his body is puppeteered into helping eggman take over the world.

this immediately did not go to plan bc both sonic and metal were confused as shit (sonic was unconscious when everything happened and metal was deactivated temporarily to have her parts used and also her data extracted) and immediately both were extremely freaked out after realising what had happened to them. they’re both dealing with a ton of entirely new senses and information that’s extremely overwhelming, they're in a new body that’s partially someone else’s that they need intensive physical therapy to properly control, and they've got their despised counterpart stuck in each other’s thoughts forever- while metal can pretty much take control whenever she pleases bc that’s the entire point she's unable to stop hearing sonic's thoughts and vice versa.

so, like. instead of immediately getting to turn his detested enemy against the last remnants of rebellion and also bond with one of his kids he's got a really freaked out panicking version of the two of them who are in need of a lot of healing bc they went through something both extremely physically and mentally traumatic and as it turns out you do not recover from full body and brain surgery very quickly no matter how cool your new robot parts are. which like. obviously eggman is not Happy about this but he still has infinite he can kinda just. have him do his shit while that happens.

meanwhile bc they’re basically stuck together 24/7 and completely without any other proper form of emotional support sonic and metal do end up… kinda bonding? it’s very complicated. they still hate each other but they’re also codependent as hell. they resent each other for being in a situation they both find horrible but they also try and keep each other safe, not just bc they literally are stuck sharing a body and therefore the consequences effect the both of them but also they do end up sympathising with the other in some way and feeling bad for them- metal views herself as superior to sonic inherently and therefore ends up developing a kind of condescending pity towards his inferiority while sonic is like. immediately fucking aware of the fucked up abusive dynamic with her and eggman since he’s basically a forced passenger along for the ride with the whole thing and obviously even if he hates someone he does not want them to be abused.

they’re also forced to sort of work together to even like, be able to relearn how to do anything. bc like they both have extremely different bodies and they both need to help the other on stuff. metal doesn't even have the muscle memory to breathe on her own, and sonic can't control their cybernetic parts bc they feel so alien to his senses. neither of them can have full control and so they kinda have to get along to like. straight up not die. and like on a mental level too metal pushes them too hard and injures their healing body bc she’s not used to having a body that can’t just be fixed whereas sonic being himself leads to the already fucked up abusive situation he’s stuck in now to get Worse and that’s obviously not good for either of them.

i didn’t stay asleep long enough to know what happened next but I did draw them waking up!

they’re not doing so great!

[tropesaregoodsoup]

Fresh Pet: Chapter 2

part 1

They woke up groggy, but… refreshed. Like waking up after a broken fever. The bed was comfy and warm, but as they went to stretch, they found they couldn’t move their arms. They opened their eyes at this, and felt their breath hitch as they saw the same leather cuffs around their wrists. The memories flooded back as they tried to sit up, but the chain was pulled taught, and they found themself having to scoot down on the bed just to give themself enough slack to really sit up and look around. This time the chain was longer and connected to the end of the bed. The muzzle was gone though, a small victory. They wiped their eyes, still crusty from the tears, and, for the first time since the club, they assessed their situation. The chain was made of a heavy metal and there was a lock where it connected to the cuffs and another where the chain ended at the foot of the bed. If they were going to leave, they would have to find a way for Whumper to undo their bindings, they had never been too interested in lock picking, and certainly didn’t have the strength to break metal. 

They remembered back to the room they had first woken up in. The way Whumper had looked at them with concern. The certainty they'd had when talking about Whumpee as their pet. This couldn’t be their life. What did a pet even do?

They didn’t have to wait long for answers as the door across the room unlocked with a click and opened. It was Whumper. Alone this time.

“Hi!” They hurried over with two plates of food. “I brought breakfast. I hope you like the bed. I thought it might be a bit jarring to have you sleep in your kennel your first night. Baby steps and all that.”

There was only one thing on their mind. Now that they could talk. “I want to go home.”

“Why?” Whumper didn’t miss a beat, setting down the plates and pulling up a chair beside the bed. It caught Whumpee off guard.

“... What?”

“Why do you want to go home?” It certainly sounded like a genuine question.

“I had a life there-”

“A very stressful life.” Whumper seemed prepared for this conversation. “You were constantly worried about rent and food and whether you had enough money just to go out to eat.”

“But I had friends. I went out with them. Yes, things were tight sometimes, but it was mine. It was my life. I want it back.”

Whumper sighed. “Yes, your so called ‘friends’…” They put quotations around the last word. “The friends that only went out to clubs, basically ignoring you once they got there. But I saw you. You don’t like loud places. You don’t like flashing lights, and you don’t even drink. Can you really think of anything you had in common with them?”

“I-” That couldn’t be right, but they found themself at a loss for words. They did like hanging with their friends. Whumpee had fun with them, they did always find a reason to drink though, even when staying in for a movie night. “We did other stuff. We hung out, we had fun-”

“Are you really going to tell me you didn’t feel left out? They never did anything you wanted to do. You like puzzles and painting and drawing. You didn’t get to do any of those things in your old life. A pet like you needs enrichment. You’ll get that here.”

Enrichment? This person was insane, but it got Whumpee thinking about everything that had happened. How they had been drugged and kidnapped. How obnoxiously right Whumper was about their life, about their ‘friends’. Their breathing had sped up again, but not in anxiety or fear this time. They were angry, and the more they thought, the angrier they felt. At their friends for never really listening. At the ‘agent’ that drugged that at the club. At that stupid tall woman that just stood in the corner of the room and encouraged this crazy person. And most of all at the crazy person who pretended to care. Pretended that all of this was for their own good.

“Fuck you!” They were seething. “You. You had me kidnapped and drugged and-” They gasped. Something cold had hit them. Water, they realized. Whumper was holding a spray bottle.

“You do not talk to me like that.” Whumper’s voice dropped dangerously. Their concerned demeanor and the debate had distracted Whumpee from just how constraining their position was. But that voice brought everything crashing back as they found themself trying to back away, halted again by the unstretching chain.

“Say it.”

Whumpee was still reeling from the spray bottle. “W-What?”

“You will not talk to me like that. Repeat it.”

“I-” They paused, they really did not want to say that. But apparently Whumper wasn’t in the mood to let them debate about it, and sprayed them again. Whumpee decided there must be ice in the bottle for it to be that cold. Whumper didn’t say anything else though, just looked at them expectantly.

“I don’t want to be a- a pet.” They tried to prepare, to cover their face this time, but the chain stopped them again and they got another hit of ice on their face. It was too much.

“Fuck! Fine! Just stop.” 

Another spray. 

“What the hell!”

Another.

“STOP! I- I’m sorry!” Their voice broke. “I’m sorry.” Their breathing was ragged again, but this time from crying. “Why? Why did you keep doing that? I said I would say it.” Their voice was small and it sounded pitiful.

“Good pets don’t use those words.”

They hated this. They hated the cold. They hated the different texture on their face when the rest of their body was dry. They waited though, every nerve on edge for the next spray. After a minute of nothing, they reluctantly looked up. Whumper was still just watching, their face hadn't softened.

“We can move on when you’ve repeated both phrases.” Their voice was cold and harsh. It scared Whumpee. More than anything else that had happened since this whole ordeal started, and they couldn’t find it in themself to go against Whumper. “I won’t- I won’t talk to you like that.”

Whumper just stared.

“And… Good pets don’t use those words.” Whumper’s change was instant. Their face and posture relaxing into one of concern. And, to Whumpee’s relief, they set the spray bottle down.

“Good. I want you to know that I don’t want to resort to such things, but I will if you insist on being disobedient. Here.” Whumper leaned forward and Whumpee found themself flinching away, but Whumper just pulled out a rag and started drying their face. “You don’t need to be scared of me. None of my punishments will cause you harm.” Their voice was gentle, and, combined with the soft, dry rag, it was almost comforting, it might have been too, if Whumpee hadn't heard the implication of that last sentence.

Whumper had other punishments.

They sat back when they were done drying Whumpee's face and pulled out a bag of what Whumpee could only assume were bite sized cookies. 

“You did obey though. You deserve a treat. Open up.” They pulled out one of the cookies. 

“I- Um… Thank you, but I don’t need that.” Their heart started pounding nervously even from the simple rejection. Fuck. If Whumper's punishments worked this fast, they needed to find a way out sooner rather than later.

Whumper just laughed lightly. “Be good now.” And they were, they didn’t want to risk any more punishments.

Humiliation and shame burned through Whumpee’s face as they ate the cookie. They felt a warmth spread through them though. Like the comfort of home. 

“See, treats are good.” It was condescending and they felt another surge of anger run through them, but the warm feeling washed it away as quickly as it came.

“They’re drugged.” They should have been angry at this realization, but they just couldn’t hold onto the feeling long enough.

“Just some nice, positive reinforcement. Now, we eat breakfast, you wash up, and then we’ll go for a walk.” 

Like a pet. Whumpee thought. Though, they did take something else from the statement. They didn’t know how long they’d been there, but they weren’t sure they wanted to know that just yet. Better to start with something small. “What time is it?”

Whumper just laughed and ruffled their hair. “Oh, pets don’t worry about that.”

The answer bothered them more than they would have thought. Like they could feel their autonomy being stripped away. Whatever was in the ‘treat’ must have been wearing off because Whumpee was acutely aware of the mounting panic as their breath sped up again. They had never been good at hiding their emotions, and their discomfort must have been very apparent as Whumper started making reassurances.

“Oh no, no, calm down, it’s okay. I forgot you’re used to knowing those things. Most of the pets don’t think about that. Um…” Whumper’s voice was quieter the next time they spoke, like they were searching for an answer. “It’s nine in the morning. Does that help? Oh, please calm down. Do you want another treat?”

Whumpee shook their head. The answer did help actually and they were calming down. Whumper seemed satisfied, but Whumpee had realized something else. They were completely reliant on Whumper. At least as long as they were like this. Whumper was their only connection to the outside world, and at times, likely the only source of comfort they would fine. The thought sent an awful shiver down their back, but they didn’t have much longer to think on it as Whumper interrupted their thoughts with a loud, cheerful voice.

“Good. Now breakfast.”

-

Thank so much for the nice words on the first chapter! I got a good laugh out of it, because, of all the stories I have on my google doc, this is the least fleshed out one.