#should not be confused with the complainers

[starlighteyesxxx]

A lot of men seem to be confused so let me educate you.

If I post something like “I’m so horny rn”, I am just speaking into the void. That doesn’t mean I am horny for you specifically. I don’t know you. If you want me to know you, then introduce yourself respectfully and get to know me.

Yet, I have men telling me I should be “held accountable” for my actions, meaning that if I say I’m horny then I should expect men degrading me in my dms. This I don’t understand. Why does a woman being horny mean she should be degraded by people she doesn’t know? Like you could just respectfully slide into my dms and say you are sexually attracted to me and would like to share your kinks with me or would like to sext and then I have the option to indulge or decline. I would probably just ignore you then. There wouldn’t be a problem. But messaging me degrading things is where I react by complaining and posting screenshots.

I even had one man say “if you walk like duck then don’t be surprised when you get treated like a duck.” What he is implying is “if you act like a whore, then don’t be surprised when you get treated like a whore.” The thing is that I don’t, in any way, act like a whore. I don’t do OnlyFans. I don’t sell content. I’m not a prostitute. I’m not even a slut. I’ve literally only had sex with a few people ever and these were all serious, long-term relationships in which I was loyal. Having sexual desires does not equal being a whore or a slut. Me expressing my sexual desires online through text posts is not me actually whoring myself out. It’s just words, thoughts, no actions. Literally every photo of me here is just a random selfie, with very little sex appeal. Any sexual gratification you get from my pictures is on you because I don’t even try to look sexy in most of them, only cute or pretty. And fuck, if i want to look sexy, I should be able to do that without being degraded. Just tell me I look sexy and leave it at that.

Basically, I’m just here to look cute and share my thoughts. But somehow it’s too much for me to ask men to not tell me they want to beat the shit out of me or rape me or call me a fuck toy slut in my dms.

[naffeclipse]

Following SotM, would you ever be interested in writing a DCA x Reader story based in the SotM factory/story? There's so much detail and worldbuilding to the game, I think your writing would really shine working with the setting :D

I love the setting of SotM factory and just how tragic and lonely it all becomes with the Murray family, and I had a thought about a Y/N hired as a sort of secretary/investigator.

Technically, you're only here for the secretary part of the job. Edwin Murray has also instructed that you dig through all employee records, emails, and messages to find out who betrayed him. Sure. Why not. You're getting paid either way, and Edwin seems satisfied that you're not working for "them".

(You feel bad for the guy. He seems stressed and paranoid, and maybe he's dealing with a few things that more qualified professionals should broach than you.)

So, you get to work, day after day, on the slow and high-pitched droning computers before you notice a program on one of the security room monitors. Moon.exe. You boot it up, confused, before you understand that it's some kind of game. At least, that's what it must be, right?

It doesn't stay so. At least, you thought it was a game. The Moon character is no longer confined to the borders of the program but is now right there, popping up in your daily work schedule. You're very nervous about a possible virus that you accidentally downloaded, but the character doesn't seem to do much. His text boxes will bubble up every now and then, and his haunting gaze will occasionally pop over the files you're combing over in all of his low pixilated glory. (Who gave this computer figure sculpted pectorals?)

He has some odd lines, random script you assume, mindlessly being triggered by... you don't know what. None of it ever makes sense, but you like to read it, just for one moment's break from the mundane and often drivel work you've signed up for. Sometimes it's funny. He tells you to go to bed when the clock runs late, and that must be due to time-based triggers, or so you figure.

You think he's just here for... you don't know, moral support? A fun little distraction that someone must have worked on between big projects due at the factory. Who's to say.

One evening, vision blurry from reading a screen in a too dark room after hours of rehashing lines after lines, trying to decide if a disgruntled employee is suspicious or the average working joe for complaining about the boss to a coworker, when you drag the mouse onto The Moon's face and start clicking, and clicking. Out of dire boredom and need for something, anything new, you click and click as if to magically fix that clock and send you straight out of here. Click. Click. Click.

A new dialogue box pops up.

Stop.

You lift your finger off of the left click.

That's new.

So, you click again, and again.

What do you want?

The Moon's face almost seems annoyed in its half-eclipsed expression. You chuckle to yourself.

"Just pressing your buttons," you snicker. "What else can you do?"

Then you immediately look around the messy, file-filled room, as if you would somehow be caught dorkily chatting to yourself, well, a computer program. Good thing it's only you in the building. Occasionally Edwin will burst into the security office as if he might catch you red handed in something you shouldn't be, but you let your work speak for yourself, and that usually calms the man down.

You need to get out and enjoy your weekend, don't you?

You slump back into your chair and stare at the screen. Just you and The Moon.

You click on The Moon's face again. The satisfying sharpness of the mouse click fills you with bubbling amusement at the childish prodding.

The next dialogue box flips into view.

I can press your buttons too.

A loud slam falls behind you, pushing you out of your seat as you whirl back to find the heavy door locked into place. Heart in your throat, you blink as the lights cut out. You're plunged into tar-black blindness, save for the green glow of the computer screen.

Silenced by terror, you crank your head slowly back to your work desk. The computer hums quietly.

The green glow intensifies as The Moon stares at you. He fills the pixels, one eye piercing you like the end of a knife.

Your eyes snap to the next line of dialogue.

Boop!

For several, terrifying heartbeats, you stand and listen to the frantic scarping of your breath. Like prey spotted by a hunter, you dare not move. The darkness is absolute, and the only light is before you; a lighthouse or the last flicker you see before it all plunges into eternal night.

Who did that?

Then the flick of lights buzzing back on spares your half-suspected heart, and you unlock your limbs when the security door slides back open.

You hardly skim the next box of text as the computer returns to where you left off, files and emails crowding the screen side by side, and The Moon's head set in one corner.

You snatch your backpack and book it through the door. That's it. You're off the clock. You don't care if Edwin loses his marbles about you ducking out a few minutes early. You will not stay a moment longer.

It is only on your drive home, twisting your sweaty palms around the steering wheel, that your brain unscrambles enough to recall the final words on the screen.

Nighty night.

[old-fandom]

Do you think that Stanley suppresses his hard-won intellect once Ford comes back and they get their happily ever after?

Like, Stan understands that he had to learn and do this hard work in order to restart the portal, but he's got such bad imposter syndrome that he can't conceptualize what an accomplishment he achieved. Ford was too arrogant and angry at the time to recognize it, the kids are too young to fully comprehend it, pre-recovery Fiddleford would be too confused to really remember the effort it took to make it, and everyone else would simply be so out of the loop to even understand what happened. Stan can only see what he did through the lenses of "fixing my mistake". I wouldn't put it past Stan to think that he's still not smart because he "basically followed Ford's instructions" without adding in the context that a lot of the instructions were gone or nonexistent or that the physicality of the project was dangerous and volatile or that he was basically having the start from the bottom up in order to even understand Ford's "instructions". Stan thinks that the effort put into opening the portal was him, once again, "riding on his brothers coat tails."

But that doesn't stop Stan from now understanding. Things that were once complete and utter nonsense and gibberish, now make logical sense, to the point where he can even make his own sound and scientific conclusions.

And it scares him.

Because all that time was focused on opening the portal and only the portal. So to see it pop up as a skill, where he may actually be able to provide genuine input to a complex problem really messes with him. He's not the smart twin. That's not his role to play. He's not always the bad twin, but he knows that he'll always be the stupid twin.

So when Ford and Stan go sailing, Stan pushes down those skills. He may have a few complex's about losing his role as the "Brawn" between him and Ford, as he is aware that Ford had to become a fighter in order the survive (which Stan does not complain about. He's glad Ford can stick up for himself now, it's all he ever wanted. But that doesn't stop himself from feeling his heart break at the idea of not being needed.) But he knows that he has his happy ending and he doesn't want the ruin it.

He feels himself sometimes wanting to contribute to a conversation with Ford about one of his machines or about an experiment or hell, sometimes, even the portal, which Ford has never asked him about. But he fears that he's going to open his mouth and Ford is going to give him that look of pity, that "That was a good try" smile, a "Well, actually" speech. And he doesn't know if he could handle opening up about maybe, possibly, in a blue moon, being smart too only to proven again that he was never smart and he should leave that to the professionals.

I do have this idea of Stanley sneakily going behind Ford and going over his experiments and machines when they are giving Ford trouble to see if he could possibly figure it out. Not because he thinks he's smart, but because he hates seeing Ford so upset. And when he realizes a mistake or where Ford is hung up on, he'll fix it for him and then wait to see what happens afterwards. He only does it when he knows Ford is being particularly upset about something and has been worked up about it to the point where he's getting frustrated and awake for days on end. Usually this means that he's not as perceptive to changes. Stan will finally make Stanford take a break, eat something, take a shower, do some love making, go to bed, anything to make him calm down and away. And when Stanford is preoccupied, he'll take a look.

And it works. Ford doesn't realize his work has been tempered with and instead just thinks he got too into his head. Stan tells him that this is why he should take more breaks and listen to him when he says it's time for breakfast/lunch/dinner or bed. Ford always feels sheepish afterwards, believing that Stan is right and he should take more breaks. Stan feels accomplished when this happens, that he did something that Ford couldn't provide for himself. He was needed and wanted while still letting Ford remain the smart twin.

But it doesn't last forever. Stan puts Ford to bed after he was messing with a piece of machine for over a week, frustrated and cranky because it refused to work. Stan goes to review the machine, going over his equations and looking over the components. Slowly, he starts tinkering with the machine, fixing the equations and bringing the machine to life. What Stan doesn't know is that Ford woke up with renew vigor earlier than Stan thought he would and went down to his lab to work on it, only to stop dead in his tracks. Watching in the shadows as Stan works on the machine until it finally works. But, something strange happens. Right after Stan gets it to work, he "breaks" it in a way where it would take only a few moments to refix it. He fixes the work shop as it was when Ford left it.

Then it dawns on him. Stan was working on the machine just enough for Ford to come back and finish it, believing that he fixed it.

While Ford is so transfixed on what he just saw, he doesn't realize that Stan has caught Ford staring. And when Ford realizes he's been caught, he doesn't move. He stares at Stan and really looks at him. Wonders how long had he been doing this, what else has he been able to do, why is he hiding it, how long has he been able to help out? Why didn't he tell him. He didn't ask though because he already knew the answer. Ford takes Stan by the hand and brings him back to the work bench and sits them both down. He moves the machine back over to him while he looks over his equations. He's asking Stan to fix it for him, but Stan is scared. This isn't his role, but Ford is asking him to do this, Ford is trusting him to do this. So he does.

And Ford takes Stan's hand.

And Ford looks at Stan like it's the first time they've met and realizes that he has yet to know everything about him and falls in love all over again.

[britt-kageryuu]

MK arrived at Flower Fruit Mountain for a bit more training, both physical and about Monkey stuff.

Though he was curious about the pile of burnt stuff on one of the beaches that he spotted on the way to the meeting spot.

"Hey Monkey King, what's with that pile of stuff? Did something in your treasure room catch fire?" He asks Wukong, who's currently being mobbed by little ones for snacks.

Wukong looked a bit annoyed but covered it quickly, "No Bud, just that time again."

"What?" MK was confused, 'time again'? Did he forget something important?

"Kid, even after all these centuries I still get courting offers. It's at least part of why I became a recluse." Wukong explained while carefully removing one of the Monkeys that was somehow in his shirt/top.

"Wait... didn't you say once that you were in a relationship of some sort?"

The Monkey King nodded his head, "Yeah, but many of them think it was just something the books got wrong, or think that my 'relationship' was over a long time ago. We never officially broke off our relationship, and even death doesn't end it. There are many weird rules about Yaoguai Mates and Courting that many these days forget." He lets out a sigh while pulling another little one from his top.

"So wait. How does death not count as an end of a relationship? This sounds familiar, maybe Tang told me a story once?" MK rambles a bit while trying to remember where he heard that from. The little ones were now climbing MK since he was sitting still.

"It's because while coming back from the dead is very difficult, it's not impossible. Plus there's some Yaoguai that prefers to stick with 1 mate their entire life, even in death." Wukong explained, he was debating whether to ditch the physical training and just turn this into a way to spot potential Unwanted Courting Attempts. "Plus we never bothered to negotiate if we wanted to end things, or try to reconcile later."

He thinks he has some old texts or scrolls on some of the topics in his hoard. So he sent some clones to grab them real quick.

"Either way, you should be careful about accepting gifts right now. How about we go over this instead of training."

"But you were going to show me how to use that one technique!" MK complains a bit.

"Well this is more important, your old enough to get the occasional annoying suitors, so this will be important." Right on cue the clones returned with some old books, and scrolls.

[haroun31]

¡Hola! ¿Qué tal? Me gustaría pedirte un lector, con la pareja Bajitorafuyu. Se acaban de mudar a su nuevo apartamento, pero no saben dónde dormir porque no quieren separarse. No sé si me explico bien, espero que sí. 😁

Translation: 'Hi! How you doing? I would like to ask you for reader with the pair Bajitorafuyu. The just moved in their new apartment, though the don't know we're to sleep because they don't want to separate. I don't know if I explained myself well, I hope yes'

I hope you don't mind it being in English. My Spanish is not that good ahaha

Warning: Fluff | Poly | MC's gender is neutral |

Poly's biggest problem: the bed

Finding a comfortable home hadn't been a problem. None of the four of you had any special needs, nor had you complained too much when the opportunity to buy an apartment near Shibuya showed up. It was close to your pet shop, not too into the city center but not too far either. Sure, it wasn't a huge house but that wasn't exactly a problem for you. Though. . .none of you took into account the living arrangements.

Kazutora was looking around what should become the living room with empty golden eyes. In his hands he held a previously printed plan of the apartment, behind him the rest of his lovers busy carrying the moving boxes from the ground floor to the third floor. He shifted his eyes from the empty room down on the paper in his hands. Apart from the kitchen, the bathroom and the living room, the rest of the few rooms were up to free interpretation. The problem was. . .where exactly will you four sleep?

There were three free rooms in total, you planned to use one as a laundry room and the other two as bedrooms. . .but another problem arose that way. Who would sleep with whom?

"How many more Mangas did you guys packed? This is the third package I took in and there are two more down in the hallway" on cue, Baji entered the apartment, carrying a box of Mangas under his arm and a box of kitchen utensils over his shoulder, a grumble under his breath "That would be ours" Chifuyu promptly intervened on the threshold of the door, lifting a nightstand "You better treat them with care because some are from my childhood!" you added following the green-eyed man with several boxes in your arms.

Baji rolled his eyes, muttering something about not being enough space to place hundreds of romance Mangas in the apartment. Soon enough his red eyes landed on Kazutora, who was still busy doing mental math "Yo, Tora! Watcha you there? Come and help us with the table" Yet the man with the tiger tattoo simply turned around, and slowly pointed at the map "We don't have a place where to sleep. . ." Everyone stopped, looking at each others in confusion.

"Uh?" You muttered put, walking over Kazutora and looking over his shoulder at the floor plan of the apartment "But we have two rooms, no?" You pointed at the two square as Chifuyu walked over to check the situation "True, but that would mean that we need to decide who share the room with whom" at his words Baji immediately jumped up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders "I'm sharing the room with them!" You stuck out your tongue, placing your hands over his arm "You just want me because my bodily heat is warmer than anyone"

"Can't a man enjoy warm cuddles before falling asleep?"

You groaned, playfully kicking his shin with your shoes "Yea but sleeping with you it's a nightmare, you keep moving around all night, mumbling about your next vet exam. And more than once I woke up with you hair in my mouth or a hickey because of your damn sharp teeth" you shot your arms toward Matsuno "I want to share the room with Chifuyu, he actually knows how to not steal blankets. Tora is fine too, actually everyone is better than you" that earned a squeeze of his arm around your figure and a muffled laugh from Chifuyu.

"Are you picking favoritism, doll?"

"I'm picking a paceful night, nothing against you love"

Chifuyu shook his head with a small smile at the display, before nudging the blondeish man by hi side "So, what's your opinion, would you like to sacrifice your sleep to share a bed with Keisuke?" However the golden eyed boy kept shut, looking at the three of your with unreadable eyes, before finally speaking "But I don't want to not sleep with all of you"

You and Baji stopped your  bickering once his words processed in your minds. Thinking about it, it would suck to be separated in the long run, and while taking shifts might help, it's still a frustrating inconvenience. This is the first time the four of you have lived together in an apartment and you had never considered the issue of rooms.

"I guess. . .we can find a way to fix the problem. . .somehow. . ." You muttered out, placing a finger under your chin "Do you think there are beds big enough for four people? We could use one room for sleeping and the other for closets and as a changing room?" you suggested, pointing to the two adjacent rooms.

Baji shrugged his shoulders "I don't care if I have to sleep on the floor so for me everything is alright, what about you Tora?" Golden eyes trailed over his red ones and the man nodded his head "I don't care either, I just don't want to be separated from you three" after everything that happened on Bloodyween, Kazutora came to be quiet loyal with the people that still accepted him and one of the way he showed his gratitude was by always being by their sides.

"I mean, there is the King and California King mattresses which are 76 x 80 inches and 72 x 84 inches" Chifuyu spoke up, scrolling through his phone for a quick research "Or there is the Texas King. . .Alaska King. . .Wyoming King. . ."

"Sound all Americans" Kazutora pointed out, leaning his head on Chifuyu's shoulder and looking at his phone "Thank god that Americans are obsessed with making things bigger" Baji chuckled, still with his arm around your shoulder "Which means you can still share your abnormal warmth with me" he teased with that smug smirk, making you deadpan "Please Chifu, Tora, don't make him turn me into his personal plushie" as he nuzzled into your head making playfully reach harder for the only your two saviors.

"Summer is gonna be intollerable with him, I swear"

(Remained that the requests are open!)

[saycheeeese]

Zombie Apocalypse x JJK (Part 3)

ft. Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara x y/n. (It's kinda long, but I hope it's worth it!<3)

୨୧ Part 1 ୨୧

★ Part 2★

They had finally included you in their group two weeks after you met. Nobara says she liked your bravery, confidence and fighting style. Yuuji says he likes your personality, intelligence and adaptability. Megumi says nothing specific. Though, him telling you they'd like you to be a part of their group was enough of a compliment.

Now, you sit on the dusty floor of the pantry, acuminating your dagger with oil and a huge rock Yuuji aimed at you. Him and Megumi are trying to fix a meal, bickering over what step should be done first according to the box, and what can be substituted for-

"I told you we shouldn't have used kale!" Megumi's voice rose, frustrated.

"I like kale with sandwiches!" Yuuji winces.

"Well I don't. And no one except you does."

"You can literally take it out of the sandwich, you know?"

"It still leaves a bitter aftertaste."

"You shouldn't have used it raw."

"You shouldn't have given advice."

Yuuji scoffs. "You all are so picky. I just know (y/n) will eat it and like it. And won't complain like immature children."

"Good luck," Megumi glances at you. "You have my prayers."

You look up from your dagger, Yuuji's reflection clear in it. "How bad could it be?"

"You're really asking that?" Megumi raises his brow, picking up the dry bread slices you and Nobara hoarded from a distant farm, abandoned only recently, gore spread about the estate.

"Typically, whenever someone asks that in a movie," Nobara hops down from her bed - the wiry triple-bunk just one crank away from combustion - and walks over to Megumi, snatching the bread from his hands. "It doesn't end well. That's why even my guardian angels won't ever catch me saying What could possibly go wrong."

Yuuji hands you the sandwich, the crusty bread crumbling in your palms, stuffed with something weirdly resembling mayonnaise, the thinnest slice of cheese ever known to mankind, boiled pieces of some random hunted bird and a large wafer of kale.

"When was the last time you saw a movie?" Yuuji prompts, staring at Nobara in awe.

"To be honest, I don't even r-"

An ear-splitting racket echoed outside the pantry, quickly followed by a high-pitched shriek. Your heart stops, sputters, then jumps into your throat. How did they find us?

Megumi's already stalking toward the door with a long knife. You blink in confusion; where did he get that? You assume he pulled out of his ass, and that was the only logical explanation as you uncoiled to your feet, unsheathing your own dagger from the belt around your waist and trailed after him, quiet on your feet. Nobara fiddles with a makeshift shuriken, its edges drawing out blood from her fingertips. Yuuji is pressed against your back, his breath at your neck as he rises on his toes.

"Let me see," he insists, fingers digging in your waist to hoist himself up. It takes you a lot of effort not to move or even breathe.

Megumi notices Yuuji, the way he's so close to you, and his eyes narrow. "Get away from her."

"But I want to see," Yuuji groans, rising on his toes, putting more pressure against you. Totally platonic, you tell yourself, every atom in your body frozen.

"Bring a chair or something. Stop it right now," Megumi hisses, whirling to the door instead. He peeps through the hazy glass you all are trying to see past. Your eyes only make out darkness, its black folds cocooning over every surface like silk, a few beams of moonlight piercing the black. Another gut-wrenching scream makes you jolt, and Yuuji steadies you, his hands trembling.

Megumi doesn't say a word as he wrenches the door open and sprints outside. You stare after him, choices and decisions running in your mind full-circle, and before you knew it, you were dashing after him. Nobara and Yuuji catch up to you swiftly, the scuff of shoes and hushed panting filling the dark restaurant as you make your way through the overturned tables and drooping wires. You wrench open the door and halt, the world crashing to a stop around you.

A girl just shy of six is curled up on the pavement, her unruly hair a curtain between her and the rest of the world. Sobs rack her frail body, and your eyes drop to the pool of red-

Shit.

Two zombies are sprawled around her, one with a knife in its eye and the other sliced open from the groin, their heads smashed open. But it does nothing to hide the shimmer of red on their teeth, the blood fresh on the ground. Megumi swears beside you and rushes to the girl, his hands fisted. Nobara jogs to his side, jaw clenched with anger and emotion, spewing words of contempt. You reach them in a few strides, your mind spinning, and you can do nothing but swallow your gasp as Megumi pushes the girl's hair behind to reveal gruesome puncture marks near her collarbone, her neck tainted in sprays of red. She groans, tears rolling over her cherubic cheeks, and she slowly opens her eyes, wincing, as if the action itself caused her pain. A tight knot is in your throat, and you feel Megumi stiffen as the girl latches her wide, brown eyes on his face, her lips wobbling and failing to form around words.

He pulls back, his face gaunt and eyes dark, and you mirror his movement. "Why isn't she transforming?" You breathe out, terrified to speak louder in case the zombies came back.

Nobara clears her throat, trying to blink away the horror from her eyes. "She's too young. The victim must be older than eight for their body to accept the virus and reanimate as the dead. Because the youngest zombie corpse able to be reincarnated is about nine, too-young humans can't ... can't change." Her voice cracks, but she keeps up her strong façade, lifting her chin and ambling over to Megumi.

"So what will happen? To her?" You gaze at the girl, transfixed by her childlike beauty, and her caramel eyes close tightly, her hand trying to staunch the blood dribbling from her neck.

"She'll die. Simply. It shouldn't be painful, but we might never know," Megumi answers softly, biting his lip in thought.

Steps sound behind you, and the three of you freeze, bracing for-

A disgruntled sound emits from the threshold, and you swivel on the spot. Yuuji's eyes are locked on the girl, his face pale. Megumi is there in an instant, grounding Yuuji with his arms pressing down on his shoulders. "Itadori."

He shakes his head, not looking at him.

"Itadori. Look at me." Megumi shakes him gingerly, his voice pleading.

Yuuji lifts his glazed eyes to Megumi, as if reliving a memory. "Is she ... dead?"

"No," Megumi shakes his head. "She was bitten, but she's too young."

"I know. That's what it is. She's too young!" Yuuji closes his eyes. "Such a young girl - with an entire life ahead of her - and they killed her."

"She wouldn't have been happy in this world," Nobara reasons with him, her voice aloof and serious. "She'll be in a better place, where she'll have a happier future."

"You're going to kill her?" You step forward, still in disbelief, not wanting to leave the girl's side for a moment.

"Yes," Megumi murmurs, his knuckles white and voice low. "We have to."

"We must let her go before others arrive by the stench of blood," Nobara echoes.

You nod. It might be better for her.

"It might even be dangerous if she proves to be older than eight and metamorphose right under our noses," you muse.

"That's why we should ... let her go," Megumi advises no one in particular.

"How should we ... you know," Nobara winces. "Is there a weapon that makes dying less painful? We can't just - slice her open."

"We need to think about that; but with haste," you sigh.

"No," Yuuji intervenes. His voice is sharp and soft, loud yet quiet, and you turn to him.

"We have to-" Nobara insists, but Megumi shakes his head at her, drawing a finger across his neck.

"Please," Yuuji says, and his voice is steady, firm. "For me."

His throat bobs, and that is the only emotion he shows, the only answer you need for you to make your decision.

"Alright," you nod, "we'll let her meet her end herself." The girls breathing became shallow, her chest barely moving, fingertips blue under the red stains. You had to admit, you were even more impressed by her aim and fighting style.

Megumi seems like he wants to refuse, but one look at Yuuji's grateful face and shining eyes has him ditching whatever he was about to say. He claps Yuuji on the shoulder and disappears into the restaurant, the pantry door opening a minute later. Nobara and you enter the restaurant together, and you glance over your shoulder at the girl one last time, and at Yuuji, cradling the girl in his arms with a tenderness you never saw.

. ★·.·´¯`·.·★ .

You spoon canned beans into your mouth, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the pantry, all alone, icy winds weaving their timid fingers through your hair, dancing around you in the dark and silence. Nobara had excused herself, saying she needed to steal some "stuff", and Megumi was nowhere to be seen.

You realize with a pang that Yuuji had been outside for five hours, and he hadn't eaten anything. You never knew how bad death, especially children's suffering traumatized and affected him, but now you knew. And you wished you didn't. You exhale, setting the can aside, your appetite sated, and unwinding to your numb feet, hissing. You quickly shimmy into a pair of jeans that probably belonged to Jesus himself, rips and seams marring the almost-brown-yet-originally-blue fabric, the entire thing barely held together by thread and sheer will. You shrug on Megumi's jacket (I mean, it was lying around - he surely wouldn't mind?) and sneak outside.

The pantry door clicks shut, and you pray Yuuji didn't somehow hear it, prowling across the floor on your toes, h-

You suddenly collide with a hard mass, an oof slipping past your lips.

You stagger back, teeth bared as you glare at Megumi, his spiky hair ruffled and eyes wide.

"Are - You're okay?" He almost reaches out to you, hesitates, and pulls his hand back.

"I'm fine," you nod, "are you?"

"I always am," he shrugs, rubbing his neck, clearing his throat. Your eyes drop to his other arm, and on the tray balanced on it. A corner of your lip lifts, and he stiffens.

"Who's that for?"

"Me."

You raise a brow. "And I am to believe that?"

"Yes."

"You already ate."

"I like to have second helpings," he shrugs, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink.

"You never used to before."

"Well ..." he trails off, gripping the tray firmly. A second of silence passes, and you sigh.

"Let me take this to him," you offer, tentatively touching his arm, your fingertips brushing against his exposed skin. He goes rigid, and dips his chin too quickly, handing you the tray gently. You take inventory of the rice bowl topped with some kind of watery noodles, two cookies and - meatballs? How did he make that with such little ingredients? You faintly grin, remembering the secret stock Megumi staved off and never allowed anyone to use.

Megumi almost walks away, but he stops, and looks at you. "Please take care of him for me."

"I will," he tiptoes off after hearing your reply. You immediately pivot on your heel to go outside and check up on Yuuji.

He's sitting beside a crooked tree in the distance, the brittle winds playing with his hair, yet he doesn't seem to care. You trek up to him, out of breath, and plop down beside him on the cold boulder, gazing out at the destroyed, ruined world, the corpses and trash littering the planet. You place the tray in his lap.

"I buried her under this tree," he whispers to no one, gazing off. "I dug it myself, and put her down as if she was only resting. I asked her if she liked flowers, and her ... her favorite was lilies." His voice cracks, and your eyes dart to the withering lilies spread over a distinct mound of earth just below the tree, and you almost cry at the gesture.

"Aren't you hungry?" You glance at him, at the way he blankly stares at the food.

He shakes his head. "I am. I swear, I could ruthlessly devour you, and this rock, and the tree, and this tray and this damn mosquito in my ear." He inhales sharply, swatting ferociously at his ear. "But - I just can't bring myself to do anything." He glances at you. "It's fine, don't worry. It happens. I always recover a day or two after someone dying in my arms."

You sigh, scooting closer to him, and wrap your arms around his middle, hugging him tight. Something snaps in him, and his shoulders sag, his chest shaking with sniffs. "I can't do anything right. I always swear to myself, to my friends, that I'll be better this time, that I will learn to be as strong as Megumi and brave as Nobara but ... I'm too weak. I want to be unaffected by things like these, but I always fail myself. And my friends."

You don’t let go of him, holding him tight, even when he goes still, like he’s afraid to crumble completely.

You press your cheek to his shoulder and say, low, steady. "No. You don't fail us. You feel for us." You pull back just enough to look up at him. "You think Megumi's strength is not crying? Nobara's bravery is not flinching? Newsflash, genius - you held a dying child in your arms and didn't run away. That's not weak. That's human." You pause, and continue softly. "If your heart's breaking, it means it still works. In this world? That's rare. That's something the rest of us are clinging to."

He looks down at you, eyes rimmed with silver. You smirk, nudging his shoulder.

"Also, if you were like them, I’d have to deal with three emotionally constipated apocalypse teens instead of two. Let me have one sensitive idiot, okay?"

He nods, and you two sit there in silence, the moon glowing over you both, spilling the light around his hair like a halo. You probably looked like an angel, too. Your hands somehow twined together - platonically, of course - the air easier and tension gone, and the light back in his eyes. Just a bit.

"God, I'm so hungry," he moans after a bit. "But I'm also really tired." He grins at you expectantly, and you roll your eyes.

"Idiot," you mutter as you lift the spoon and shove it into his mouth playfully, and he almost chokes. He pulls back and punches you lightly in the side. Just like that, he finishes the meal, teasing and talking, and shares a cookie with you.

You rest your head on his shoulder, munching on the cookie, cream on your lips, both of you dangling your legs.

"You never told us about your past," Yuuji muses aloud.

"I thought you'd never ask," you grab your chest in mock despair, and he rolls his eyes.

"Well, now I'm asking," he ruffles your hair. "And, I believe, as official best friends, we should know more about each other."

You agree (with sarcasm), and the time flies by, weightless and rapid, every moment filled with a confession, a secret and a memory unveiled. By the end of the second hour, you've shared your childhood stories, and he's told the time he met the other two. Your head on his shoulder and his head somehow on yours, arms around each other, seeking the other's warmth, you almost doze off, Yuuji's breaths filling the silence-

"Am I interrupting something?"

You both jerk violently and pull away, already on your feet, at the sound of Nobara's voice. She stands just a few steps ahead of you, arms crossed and an amused smirk on her face.

"What? No- no," you chuckle, pacing to her. "It was nothing-"

"We were just having bro time," Yuuji shrugs, standing from the boulder.

"Didn't look like it," Nobara teases, and you bristle.

"I swear, we were hugging," you groan, "because the both of us were bawling our eyes out at the mention of our past lives."

"Did he mention me?" Nobara quipped.

"Yeah, of course," Yuuji grinned, standing beside you, sticking his tongue out at Nobara.

Movement at the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you spot Megumi standing in the path behind Nobara, staring at the space you and Yuuji were just a few minutes ago. His eyes slowly move to your face, lips slightly parted, before he looks away and turns, stalking away. You almost caught a flicker of shattered dreams and jealousy and disbelief on his face - or maybe you just imagined it.

"Megumi - wait," you call after him, chasing his shadow, cursing yourself for not paying attention when he blends with the darkness and vanishes.

Oh, great.

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

defying fate

a/n : love and deepspace au | reverse-harem | mature and explicit | MDNI — not for kids | lads boys x femreader | read at your own risk | story masterlist : love and deepspace

previous ... next

CHAPTER 9 : PROJECT LUMIERE (PT3)

Needless to say, Caleb and you spent the entire waiting time "wisely," as he had so eloquently phrased it.

By the time Sylus, Rafayel, and Zayne came back, you were sitting on the kitchen counter in fresh clothes, watching Caleb giddily cook his best recipes for all of you. The air was thick with the rich aroma of a homemade meal, a stark contrast to the lingering scent of your earlier endeavors.

Sylus strode into the kitchen, just minutes after Zayne, who carefully placed his white coat neatly on top of one of the couches.

Zayne came over to you, gave you a soft kiss on the lips, then squeezed your waist possessively, his touch a silent claim. Sylus followed suit, kissing your temple affectionately, his presence a grounding force.

Last, but certainly not least, Rafayel made his dramatic entrance.

You could hear him calling out, his voice echoing through the mansion, searching for you, lamenting how much he'd missed you and how he hated that Thomas had to drag him into one of the art exhibits.

"Your own art exhibit, you whiny sea god," you pointed out playfully, allowing him to melt into your arms for a brief, comforting moment.

You gently pushed Rafayel away, though not without a lingering pat to his back, and told him to join Zayne and Sylus at the dinner table while Caleb and you plated and served the eagerly anticipated meal.

It was somewhat peaceful, this domestic scene. You were already accustomed to this weird setup, as if it wasn't the most ridiculous arrangement or household in the world. It simply was.

As you all began to eat, the clinking of cutlery filling the comfortable silence, Rafayel broke the quiet. "It's not fair," he complained, genuinely, "that the Colonel can cook too."

Zayne just grunted, seemingly more than satisfied with how Caleb's food tasted, his usually impassive face betraying a rare contentment.

Sylus seemed impressed, though he didn't say anything, merely focusing on his plate with a slight nod of approval.

Then Zayne broke the comfortable silence, his voice shifting to a more serious tone. He started by laying out the plan: "Sylus, Rafayel, and you will be infiltrating EVER."

His gaze swept over the table, making eye contact with each of you. "Caleb and I can't join directly. It would blow our covers. We have to maintain our appearances in the fleet and the Hunter Association."

You nodded in agreement, acknowledging the tactical necessity.

Caleb grunted, a low, frustrated sound signaling his deep disapproval, but he understood the logic. Rafayel just listened, his expression unreadable.

Sylus took out a biometric key—the one for Xavier—and placed it on the table.

"You need to insert this into one of the machines inside," he explained, his eyes fixed on you. "But Xavier said this version of him would probably be very confused. He'll fight all of us before he can accept the memories this key will trigger."

You gulped, just imagining how incredibly strong this untethered version of Xavier would be, a wave of fear and determination washing over you.

But Rafayel, sensing your unease, reached across the table and held your hand reassuringly, his touch warm and firm. "We're with you, cutie," he murmured, his gaze steady.

Then Caleb, pointing his spoon at Rafayel and Sylus, said in his stern, no-nonsense tone, "You two better keep her fine ass safe and unharmed."

Rafayel rolled his eyes playfully. "Colonel, you should be pointing that spoon at her," he commented, a hint of his usual sass returning, "and reminding her not to be reckless."

Sylus just drawled in agreement, a rare smirk on his lips. "This kitten does have a tendency to rush head-on, even when it's utterly foolish."

Zayne, always ready to pile on, did not help. He simply nodded, a faint, dry smile on his lips. "She does."

And on cue, Caleb turned, his spoon now firmly pointed at you. "Don't be reckless, pipsqueak!" he commanded, his voice gruff with concern.

You just sat there, like a kid caught doing something naughty, a defiant pout on your lips. Then you gave them a look, pointing your own spoon at Caleb and each of them.

"I am a grown-ass woman with two aether cores inside, thank you very much," you declared, your voice firm. "And I will take care of my own ass!"

You continued to eat and exchange strategies, the table a lively hub of intellect and battle plans.

Caleb briefed you all on what he knew about EVER's intricate security measures and protocols, his knowledge of their systems unmatched. You all listened intently.

Zayne chimed in from time to time, contributing what he knew from his connections as a doctor with some of the hunters and executives. He also had some surprising connections with EVER, as they had been trying to get him on board with their dark experiments for a long time.

Sylus, with his countless years of experience in doing undercover missions and infiltrating impossible places, told you how you'd approach it, detailing the stealth and precision required.

Rafayel also gave his input, being quite experienced with misdirection and chaos. He even offered to be a good distraction, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You, in turn, told them how you could infiltrate their base quietly, since you were familiar with how EVER trained their guards—their training wasn't too far off from how Hunters were trained, and some of them had even been Hunters at some point.

The night was filled with strategies and intel exchange, a whirlwind of planning, danger, and fierce determination. You knew you had to move soon, before EVER could even find out about your intent.

And you had to do it smoothly—well, to the best that you possibly could, given the monumental task.

Sylus then revealed a crucial detail: he was able to strike a deal with the person he was referring to earlier, the one who could grant access to a critical entry point.

"His name is Dimitri," Sylus stated.

Caleb and Zayne immediately stiffened, recognizing the name. He was one of the researchers who worked directly with the person you knew as "grandma," a figure tied to the darkest parts of your past.

Sylus continued, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. "We would have to participate in his 'hunt' so that we can meet him. The deal is about bringing you to him."

Caleb interjected immediately, his disapproval clear, his spoon clattering against his plate.

"This is dangerous," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "This very person is the one who wanted her gone, erased from the world. He deemed her a mistake." His eyes, normally so warm, hardened with a protective fury.

Sylus nodded, acknowledging the truth. "That's correct," he agreed, his gaze unwavering. "But it has to be done. It's the only way we can eliminate one of the biggest threats to this whole mission."

Sylus’s eyes swept over Rafayel and you, then finally back to Caleb. "And I also want to tear his ring down. This very person wanted to eliminate each one of you."

Sylus took a deep breath, his gaze settling on you, intense and knowing. "Before we can continue, kitten, you need to be whole. You need to learn the whole truth. Get to the root of it all."

You slowly nodded, your own desire mirroring his. This was it. Your truth. The truth of your existence, of what you really were.

And although Caleb hated it, his fury slowly simmered down as he saw the unyielding determination and resolute decision etched on your face.

Zayne exhaled, a long, weary sigh, and emphasized, "This is not going to be pretty, baby."

Rafayel, his playful demeanor now completely gone, simply agreed, his gaze grim.

And you looked at them, meeting each of their eyes, a fierce, unwavering light burning within you.

"No," you stated, your voice clear and strong. "It won't be. But it is necessary."

After a couple of days of careful planning (and a generous amount of sex in between), full of nerves and tension but powered by an unyielding determination, you had finally achieved the impossible.

You subdued Dimitri, annihilated his lab, and uncovered more fragments of your own existence.

Now, you finally arrived at this very day: getting back your favorite sleepy-head prince—or "the alien prince," as Caleb so fondly called him.

You arrived at the coordinates Caleb had painstakingly provided, the air thick with anticipation. You checked your Hunter Watch, the device a silent extension of your senses, but thankfully detected no influx of energy.

No Wanderers—not yet, at least. You couldn't be sure what awaited inside.

As planned, Rafayel served as a brilliant decoy, a dazzling distraction designed to allow Sylus and you to easily slip into the highly secured facility.

He utilized his immense influence as a world-famous artist, feigning that he had somehow gotten lost and ended up here.

The guards, surprisingly gullible in the face of celebrity, ate his excuse whole. They even went so far as to ask for his autograph and a picture, their star-struck reactions providing the perfect cover as Sylus and you slipped past them, unnoticed.

Rafayel, ever the master of subtle chaos, was also incredibly sneaky.

Through his charming distraction, he somehow managed to acquire their master keys to the doors inside the base, a testament to his unique brand of mischief.

Sylus and you easily intercepted three unsuspecting guards in a deserted corridor, taking them down with swift, practiced precision. You quickly stripped them of their bulky uniforms, donning the unfamiliar attire to move more easily and inconspicuously inside the sprawling, maze-like base.

The rough fabric of the uniform rubbed against your skin, a stark contrast to the luxurious silks and soft cottons you usually wore.

The facility was indeed vast, a labyrinth of steel corridors and sealed doors. Thankfully, Caleb had somehow procured a copy of the interior map, allowing you both to navigate with a surprising ease, until you reached the lowest ground—the deepest, most secure level where Xavier was undoubtedly being held.

"Cameras everywhere," you murmured to Sylus, your hunter instincts buzzing, noting the cold, unblinking eyes watching from every corner.

Through the earpiece, Rafayel's voice crackled, calm and confident amidst what sounded like distant muffled thuds. "Neutralized the guards in the surveillance room. Coast is clear."

Sylus grunted in approval, a rare, almost begrudging sound for the often-flamboyant artist. "Good," he drawled, his voice low. "Quick thinking, fish king."

Rafayel's voice came back, a hint of his characteristic sass, though edged with effort.

"I'm not just a pretty face, you know. I'm a very useful one. I'm the sea god, for heaven's sake; nobody should be surprised." The last words were punctuated by a grunt of his own, a sign he was actively engaging.

You let out a shaky giggle, the absurdity of his bravado momentarily breaking through the tension.

Sylus, with a mere flick of his wrist and a silent surge of his Evol, easily destroyed the cameras in the immediate vicinity, leaving distorted static on their feeds. He was so efficient, so utterly in control, and a shiver of appreciation, mixed with a deeper, more primal awareness, ran through you.

You peered through the small, reinforced glass window on the heavy steel door.

Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat as you saw him. The familiar mop of Xavier's fluffy hair, his body encased in a transparent capsule, eyes closed. The capsule itself was connected to a monstrous machine, humming with a low, ominous energy.

He looked so vulnerable, yet somehow, still regal, even in this suspended state.

Sylus pushed the door open with quiet efficiency, and you both slipped inside, thankful that the chamber was empty, save for Xavier.

The air was cold, sterile, smelling faintly of ozone and something clinical.

Rafayel's urgent voice cut through the comms. "You have enough window, but you need to move quickly before anyone else is alerted. I'll signal you if there's anyone approaching." His voice was strained, a low growl barely concealed, indicating the intensity of his diversion.

You moved instinctively, taking the biometric key from your pocket, your fingers trembling slightly. You walked towards the humming machine, your eyes scanning the screen that monitored his vitals and progress.

There, emblazoned across the display, were the words: "Project Lumiere."

A cold realization dawned on you. That's what they called him. That's what they had reduced him to.

With a deep, fortifying breath, you inserted the biometric key into the designated slot. The machine immediately scanned it, a soft whirring sound filling the quiet chamber.

Sylus and you waited, every muscle tense, every sense on high alert. You both noticed how Xavier's brows furrowed, how his expression subtly shifted, even with his eyes still closed.

You knew. He was about to wake up.

Rafayel's voice, though slightly more ragged now, confirmed, "Coast is still clear."

Sylus and you stood there, ready for anything.

Not a minute passed before Xavier's eyes snapped open. They were a whirlwind of emotion: shifting from blankness to a flicker of recognition, then deep confusion, and finally, a rising terror.

His muscles rigid, tense, and suddenly, an influx of his raw, unrestrained Evol cracked the thick glass of the capsule. The hum of the machine turned into a shriek as the capsule door groaned, then flew from its hinges, torn violently from its frame, crashing to the floor with a deafening clang.

You knew. You had to wait. You had to subdue him first, until he truly remembered, or at least accepted, what he had just seen.

Then Xavier drew his blade, materializing it from thin air, the familiar silver gleaming menacingly.

His face was a mask of confusion and palpable terror, his Evol flaring erratically around him like a violent halo.

This was a natural reaction, you knew.

You were ready for this, but not prepared enough to take his full power, which was why Zayne had given you specific instructions to inject him with something to make him sleep, or at least calm him down.

And that was exactly what you were clutching in your hand right now, a small, glass vial filled with the potent serum.

Sylus immediately positioned himself in front of you, a protective shield against Xavier's raw power, ready to face him head-on while you figured out an opening to put him down. His stance was confident, unyielding, a silent promise of protection.

Just then, Rafayel's voice sliced through the comms, urgent and strained. "Guards on your way! He's drawing attention! I'll handle it, but you have to be quick!" His labored breathing was a stark reminder that he was in the middle of his own brutal, chaotic fight.

Xavier stared at Sylus, his eyes wide with profound confusion, devoid of anger or rage, but filled with a deep, unsettling fear. Then, they butted heads, exchanging lightning-fast blows.

Sylus kept on the defensive, deflecting, parrying, keeping Xavier engaged, carefully holding back his own full power to avoid truly harming him. You dodged and kept your distance, moving like a phantom, waiting for an opening, your hunter instincts sharpened to a razor's edge.

Sylus used every technique, every bit of his vast experience, in a grueling back-and-forth exchange that seemed to last an eternity.

Finally, finally, you found an opening.

Xavier faltered for a split second, a flicker of a memory in his eyes.

You lunged, a blur of motion, injecting the serum Zayne had given you into Xavier's neck with practiced efficiency. "Calm down, Xavier," you murmured, your voice thick with urgency and love, knowing he might not hear it, but needing to say it anyway. "We're not your enemies."

You watched as his eyes fluttered, the confusion still there but fading, his blade shimmering and disappearing into the air. He slumped forward, passing out completely into Sylus's arms, his head cradled tightly between Sylus's muscular shoulder and chest, a dead weight.

You both panted, your chests heaving, adrenaline still coursing through you. Then Rafayel's voice, shallow and heavy, grunting in between desperate breaths, reminded you both: "We don't have time to sit here and coddle the sleepy head!"

His voice was ragged, stretched thin, and you knew he was in the thick of a fight, barely holding his own to buy you precious seconds.

Sylus immediately hauled Xavier's limp form onto his shoulder, adjusting the dead weight with practiced ease. You nodded, your gaze meeting his, resolute. "We have to get the fuck out of this place. Now."

You rendezvoused with Rafayel, finding him just outside the chamber, bruised and panting, but still fighting, a couple more guards engaging him in a chaotic melee.

"A couple more," Rafayel gasped, dodging a wild strike, a cut blooming on his cheek.

You turned to Sylus, a quick plan forming in your mind. "It'll be faster if you get out now," you told him, knowing his teleportation ability was your fastest exit. "Rafayel and I will do the cleanup. Get Xavier to safety."

Sylus hesitated, his eyes lingering on you, a flicker of deep concern in their depths, a silent question passing between you. But he knew you were correct, knew his teleportation ability was the fastest way out with Xavier.

He looked at Rafayel, a silent, almost imperceptible exchange passing between the two mythical beings—a brief nod of mutual trust, of shared responsibility for you. Rafayel, bruised but utterly determined, gave a dramatic but urgent and understanding sigh.

"I got her, Sylus," he said, his voice surprisingly firm. "I'm the fucking sea god, for heaven's sake!" Sylus just nodded back, a brief, tight acknowledgment, and then, with a burst of red sparks and smoke, he disappeared, taking Xavier with him.

Rafayel and you braced yourselves, a shared, grim understanding settling between you. You looked at him, a fierce, almost excited glint in your eyes despite the danger.

The excitement between you was a palpable current in the air, a thrilling undercurrent to the chaos.

"We'll have to fucking tear this damn place apart, won't we?" you said, an affectionate challenge in your tone.

He grinned, a flash of pure, thrilling mischief in his eyes, his injuries slowly healing with a faint red glow on his skin.

Then, he transformed into his full sea god form—a mesmerizing sight as his hair shimmered, his eyes glowed, and he seemed to hover in the air, as if the very air itself had become the sea, his presence radiating immense, ancient power.

He flicked his fingers towards you, and you felt your clothes and your own Evol shift, a surge of energy flowing through you, as if he had bestowed upon you a part of his own ability to manipulate the environment, making you feel lighter, more agile, almost ethereal, perfectly attuned to his presence.

Together, you turned the entire place upside down.

For what felt like hours, you unleashed a controlled, devastating chaos. The whole base was in shambles, every piece of their equipment shattered, every vile experiment destroyed, not a single useful thing left behind for EVER to salvage.

It was freeing, destructive, and utterly necessary.

And then, you left, just as quickly and smoothly as you had entered, before even a single Wanderer could possibly appear, leaving behind only ruin and a very clear message: You were coming for them all.

With Xavier finally retrieved and EVER's base a ruin, the most dangerous part of your mission was complete.

But the real challenge lay ahead: bringing Xavier back to his true self.

[inkedberries]

there aren't just the creators that make up the fandom. we have our unsung heroes that I like to call the curators. curators are the ones who reblog/retweet/recommend/talk about/comment on fanfiction and fanart to spread the joy of being a little bit abnormally obsessed with a piece of media said fanfiction/fanart is based on.

[lunar-years]

Getting mad at ~Haymitch’s best friend was Katniss’ Dad~ for being an “unrealistic” plot point has got to be one of the stupidest widespread complaints I’ve seen about sotr, like what 😭. It’s stated in the books that District 12 has a population of about 10,000 TOTAL people. It is not a big place. Everyone knows everyone. add to that the knowledge we already had going into the book that 1) most people who live there are too afraid to venture into the woods 2) the kids who do go into the woods have a much higher likelihood of possessing some of the survival skills that would allow them to get further in the games 3) Katniss’ dad was very much a kid who went into the woods and Haymitch is the only living district 12 Victory…. THEREFORE it in fact makes *so* much sense that the two of them would have been kids who went into the woods together, and thus been friends? Why is this any sort of sticking point I don’t understand 😭

[radioiaci]

A bemused expression places itself on Alastor's face as Simon mentions the waltz - the commoner is not unfamiliar with the dance. It's rather popular in the ton now, even if it is somewhat new. But if he is to hear from Pen that it is any real sort of risque... The assertion may make him laugh outright.

"Do not worry, my friend," he replies instead. "I am sure you will be able to mingle with the riffraff without much issue. And anything you are unfamiliar with, I am happy to show you. But ah-" Hm. "I should prepare you. The women are not exactly proper. Servant girls, mostly. But they tend to use the opportunity to dress rather... Well. Certainly not in a way you would ever see in a servant's quarters." And he chuckles.

There is no doubt that Simon will be thrown entirely for a loop - in fact, Alastor may or may not be counting on just that, reaching to take the other man by the shoulder to tug him into a little side embrace.

"In any case, it will be fun! I guarantee."

Releasing him, his head tilts slightly at the mention of the eggs being gathered. He'd not asked Simon to do that, but - Nor will be complain.

"Hm. Not a bad idea. They may save me a few pounds." Of which he had very few. Saving where he can is paramount, traveling over towards where the eggs are kept so that he can place a few into a small basket to take along. It's only at the other's offer that he pauses, glancing back to Simon with some curiosity.

"...You want to help with chores?" He'd already gathered the eggs? And had put together breakfast and swept? Alastor watches him with some confusion.

"I did not think that to be something you would particularly enjoy, but - I will not stop you from coming, if you'd like to see how it is done." And less to assist Alastor with carrying things, which he will insist he is perfectly capable of, thank you. (Not that he will not take advantage of the help if it is there, but he will not allude to that being a possibility.

At the mention of purchasing a pig, Simon glances out of the window at the path stretching beyond the hill and regrets not bringing Thomas along to borrow for his friend. Bringing back a whole pig, even in packaged pieces, will be a heavy chore. Alastor will need a wheelbarrow at the very least to not break his back.

Will it really be alright for Simon to stay behind while Alastor is away?

When Alastor returns the topic to their night of debauchery, Simon tries to keep his expression at level to not reveal the nerves that threaten to rise as he thinks about their plan any deeper. A bar in a basement, where the beer is brewed? Fist fights? Women, on their own? It all sounds

"Ah, yes. I am certain it will go adequately. I can converse with men, foreigners too. And I dance. Many dances. I just learned this new one, called "Waltz". Well, it's new here, but not in Austria, where it's from," he blabbers, surely convincing himself as much as Alastor. Or at least trying.

Waltz was rather simple, but very risque, which is why Mother had cut his lessons short. But the damage had already been done. Simon smirks. She can forbid the dance from her own ballroom, but not where Simon and Alastor are going.

Though he isn't sure if he knows how waltz is danced with men, if women aren't present. Does it differ? Does it matter?

Maybe it's a question better answered once they get there. Because they will. Simon won't chicken out of his only chance of real freedom.

Which reminds him...

"I um, I gathered the eggs already. Mimzy's is a real prize specimen. Maybe you should take them along to seal the trade," Simon suggests, gesturing towards the basket and its fresh produce before smiling at Alastor.

"Are you sure you will be alright without another pair of hands? I can follow you after the laundry is done, if I'm quick."

[andiv3r]

Weird things happening with the my mom

[kishibeswh0re]

I'm genuinely baffled by how everyone says fanfics writers need to "get weirder" and write whatever they want. But somehow, they draw the line at stuff they personally don't like?

[seilon]

top surgery…………tomorrow…………

[thebluebygracieabrams]

when the competition is making me cry in 10 seconds and your opponents are my parents

[harellan]

Apparently I have off tomorrow for Jimmy Carter’s funeral (I’m a county gov employee) & I accidentally deleted the email about it without reading it. I didn’t know until I was leaving for the day and someone told me to enjoy the day off tomorrow.

[neverendingford]

.