#(struggled to find that for a second. so note to self: it's from the section before the flags)

[piningpercussionist]

50/50 ●w●

- 💠

(... You know what?)

Fair enough, actually.

I'd probably be fucking with people too, if I could do that.

(I appreciate the honesty at least? I assume they're being honest, anyway....)

[weirdkpopgirl]

Depressed | Dream Reaction #15 (hyung line)

Reaction: when their gf is falls into depression

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of reader being depressed, dark thoughts, self-harm, insecurities, all the fun stuff. please do not read if any of these topics trigger you.

Word Count: ~3k

Author's Note: it has been so long since i last posted a reaction for 7dream 😭. honestly i've been running out of ideas for them, so that's why. and i know i've written things with similar topics to this one, but i wanted to write something specifically for depression. the reason for this being that i was struggling a lot recently, but i am doing better now. still, my hope is that i can offer some comfort to those of you who might be experiencing this or something similar. thank you for reading ^ ^

here is the maknae-line version if you'd like to read it!

~ ~ ~

mark 

The faint lights of the city cast fleeting shadows across Mark’s face as his head rested against the window of his manager’s car. His fingers idly scrolled through Instagram to make the time pass a little faster. Absentmindedly, he moved to his message section to look through his friends’ notes. He stopped when he came across yours—  which had “Lonely” by Jonghyun and Taeyeon playing.

Mark frowned, as he listened to the chorus part of the song you had chosen. It gnawed at him, realizing this wasn’t the first time you had picked a gloomy track recently. Over the past few weeks, your song choices had felt like little cries for help, subtle yet piercing. 

Unable to brush it off this time, Mark asked his manager to drop him off at your place instead. His manager shot him a skeptical glance through the rearview mirror. But when he realized through Mark’s concerned expression that this was serious, he allowed Mark to type in your address into the GPS. Your place wasn’t far from their current route anyway.

The car soon pulled up in front of your apartment building. Mark thanked his manager before stepping out, pulling his hood over his head and slipping on a mask to ward off the cold and any unwanted attention. In the three months you and Mark had been together, your secret relationship had managed to stay under the radar—  unnoticed by any news outlets. 

Mark let himself in, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalled how touched he’d been when you told him the passcode was his birthday. The serene darkness of your apartment greeted him as he pushed the door open and removed his shoes at the entryway. His eyes were immediately drawn to the only visible light from the left side as he turned down the hallway. A soft glow emanated from your bedroom, urging his feet to move instinctively in that direction.

He approached cautiously, peeking inside to find you lying atop your double bed, the navy blue comforter from your childhood spread beneath you. Your purple earbuds were in, and your eyes were fixed on the ceiling with a faraway emptiness in your expression. The absence of the light he was so used to seeing in you twisted his heart.

“(Y/n),” he called out. However, you didn’t notice his presence until he stepped closer to your bedside.

Surprised, you blinked and turned your head toward him. Removing one earbud, you simply looked at him with something deeper than exhaustion.

Mark sat on the edge of your bed. “Are you listening to your sad playlist again?”

You silently handed him your phone, the Spotify screen confirming his suspicions. 92 songs, 6 hours’ worth of Korean music designed to pull you deeper into your somber mood. 

After removing your second earbud and placing it in its charging case, you move to sit up. But Mark gently stopped you, resting a hand on your shoulder before lowering himself onto the bed to lie beside you. Once you were settled in his arms he asked, “Are you okay?”

Half of him expected you to lie and say you were fine. His mind was already running with responses to persuade you to be honest about what you were feeling to him.

The defensive wall that usually kept you guarded wasn’t there tonight. You simply didn’t have the energy to be the strong person you wanted Mark to see.

“No… I’m not,” you whispered, your voice trembling as Mark noticed the tears beginning to well in your eyes.

In a moment of slight panic, he gently cupped the right side of your face, catching the tears before they could fall. “Hey, hey, I’m here. It’s alright. You don’t have to explain right now.”

That was all it took before you buried your face in his chest, his hoodie muffling the quiet sobs that escaped you.

Mark had so much he wanted to say right now. He wanted to reassure you that he’d be there when you were ready to talk, that you didn’t have to push him away when you were hurting, and that you weren’t alone in the storm you felt trapped in.

But for the time being, he held you closer, his hand rubbing small, soothing circles on your back. He could feel your grip on his shirt tighten, a silent plea for comfort. Words could wait.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

renjun 

During a ten-minute break called by their choreographer, Renjun pulled out his phone, hoping to see a message from you. Daily texts have become a comforting routine in your relationship. While Renjun didn’t always show it, your little check-ins added more warmth to his life, especially on the colder days. However, your messages have become less frequent lately.

Sitting on the sofa, he started at the most recent text you had sent when he was practicing with the guys. It was brief, a little too brief, considering how cheerful your messages used to be.

| Hope your day is going well. Don’t skip dinner after practice, okay?

No pet names, no emoticons. Not that you used them all the time, but Renjun still noticed the lack of them. Your texts themselves weren't what set off his alarm bells, it was the subtle changes in you. Similar to you, he was also observant and had picked up on your quieter demeanor, the weaker tone in words, and the way your laughter didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore.

Renjun knew you struggled with depression in the past, but you had assured him you were better now. He believed you then, but now… he sensed something had shifted.

A heavy sigh left him as he brushed his hair back with a shaky hand. He wasn’t in the best mental place himself, though he had made significant progress this month, thanks to the support from you and his members. Still, your recent distance was weighing on him, and he knew that he had to confront you about it tonight.

He showed up at your doorstep an hour and a half later, catching you off guard by your boyfriend’s sudden appearance.

“Renjun? I thought you had practice late tonight.”

Hesitating to answer immediately, his eyes locked onto yours for a long moment. Finally, he spoke softly. “Can we talk?”

The vulnerability in his tone instantly made you concerned, and you stepped back to let him inside. 

“Yeah, of course. Are you okay?” you asked, shutting the door behind him as he swapped his shoes for the slippers you kept for him. “Did something happen at practice? Did you get another sasaeng call?”

A rush of mixed emotions swept through Renjun—grateful that you instinctively cared about him, yet saddened that you seemed to prioritize his well-being over your own.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just… worried about you,” he said slowly.

You froze for a moment, then attempted to smile. “What? Jun, there’s no reason to worry about me. I’m–” 

“Please, don’t lie and tell me you’re fine,” he interrupted gently, but firmly. “Not when you’ve been acting differently and avoiding real conversations with me. I know the signs, (Y/n)—  you can’t hide from me.”

The way he called you out made you pause, and your built-up resistance began to dissipate. Renjun knew just how self-aware you were.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you sighed, gesturing for him to sit down. 

Nodding, he followed you into the living room, where the two of you sat on your couch, your knees lightly touching.

Looking into his pretty, earnest eyes, you parted your lips to speak. “The truth is, I haven’t been doing that great. There’s some family stuff that’s been stressing me out lately.”

Renjun listened intently as you finally opened up about your struggles over the past few weeks. When you finished, he reached out for your hand, his eyes brimming with emotion as he fought to hold back tears.

“Love, why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“Because you don’t need this right now,” you explained quietly, your shoulders starting to tremble. “You’re already dealing with so much, Jun. I didn’t want to bring you down even more.”

Renjun gently cupped your hand in both of his, his thumb softly brushing over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of concern and tenderness.

“(Y/n),” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I want to be there for you, just like you’ve been for me. You don’t have to carry this alone. I care about you more than anything, and whatever you're going through, we face it together. You don’t have to protect me from your pain. I’m here to share it, all of it.”

His sweet words stirred something deep within you, a warmth that brought tears to your eyes. You blinked them back, swallowing the emotion.

“I love you,” you whispered, making him smile.

He squeezed your hand reassuringly. “I love you too. Please, don’t hide from me. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

For the first time in a while, you smiled back genuinely. He leaned in, kissing you tenderly before resting his forehead against yours. Despite the monsters you and Renjun faced individually, they didn’t seem as scary when you had each other.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

jeno

He was so excited when you visited him at the company building. After being apart for so long due to touring, Jeno realized just how much he missed you– texts and video calls just weren’t cutting it for him. 

As soon as he saw his manager let you into the recording studio, he wrapped up his session quickly and efficiently. Though he was a bit drained from the day, his energy instantly shot up at the sight of you. And when he saw the takeout food from his favorite restaurant in your hand, it was the perfect bonus.

Jeno led you to an empty conference room so you could eat together in private. He was so hungry that he practically devoured the food once it was taken out of the bag. 

“You’re amazing, babe,” he said with a mouthful of rice. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A faint smile spread across your lips as you placed a napkin in front of him. “I think you’d do just fine, Jeno-ssi.”

Your reply made Jeno pause for a moment, his chopsticks hovering mid-air. That’s when he noticed the food was arranged entirely on his side of the table.

“Why aren’t you eating?” He glanced up to ask, knowing you liked this type of food too.

Nonchalantly, you shrugged. “I’m not that hungry.”

Jeno’s brow furrowed, concern beginning to take root. As he thought about it, he realized there were subtle things he had overlooked earlier. You were dressed entirely in black—while it wasn’t unusual for you to wear the color, you typically paired it with something lighter, like white or blue. Your skin seemed a touch paler than usual, and there was a noticeable weariness in your eyes that he hadn’t seen before.

“Have you eaten at all today?” he then asked, his eyes searching yours.

You shrank slightly in the chair, biting your lip because you knew that lying wouldn’t work on him.

Avoiding his gaze, you crossed your arms and murmured, “It’s fine, Jeno. I feel full just watching you eat.” 

“(Y/n)...”

Jeno studied you carefully, searching for the right thing to say. He wasn’t the best at this—  comforting others with words, But he couldn’t just sit here, not when it was clear something was bothering you.

“You remind me of Jaemin sometimes,” he said, after collecting his thoughts. 

Confusion crossed your expression. “Jaemin?”

Jeno nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You know how he’s always taking care of us? Making sure we’re not skipping meals and scolding us when we get sick? But he also skips meals sometimes and catches a cold. He hides that side of him because he doesn’t want to burden us.”

You tilted your head slightly, Jeno’s words sinking in as you frowned. Now that you thought about his best friend from that perspective, your boyfriend was right.

“You do that too,” Jeno continued, leaning forward in his seat. “You care so much about everyone else, but you neglect yourself at the same time. And I know you’re trying to protect me. But (Y/n), you don’t have to.”

He noticed your lower lip tremble as your gaze fell to your lap, a clear sign his words had struck a chord.

“You are so precious, just like Jaemin is to us. So please, don’t feel like you have to hurt alone. I want to know how you’re feeling, babe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

The first tear slid down her cheek, followed by another, until her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs.

“I’m… I’m just so tired,” you finally admitted, wiping a tear with the back of your palm. “I thought I could handle everything on my own. But…I can’t, Jeno.”

His heart broke at the sight, but he didn’t hesitate for this. He pulled your chair closer to him so he could hug you. Your tears soaked into his shirt as you clung to him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered into your hair. “Cry as much as you need to, I’m here. I won’t leave.”

The weight you’ve been carrying finally gave way, as you cried into his embrace. Jeno held you securely, his chin resting atop your head. He didn’t have all the answers, but one thing was certain—  he wasn’t going to let you face this pain alone. You would face it together, no matter how long it took.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

haechan 

He had been watching you all throughout dinner with the Dreamies. Sure, you were the most introverted in the group. But usually, you loosened up a bit now that you were closer to his members. While you weren’t as loud or blunt as he was, you’d still drop a quick-witted remark occasionally, and engage in a conversation with Chenle or Jisung. Yet tonight, you had been unusually quiet. Your contributions were limited to small smiles at the occasional joke, placing a piece of meat in his bowl, and offering vague answers to any questions directed your way.

On the drive home, he broke the silence at the third red light. “Okay, what’s up?”

Your eyes shifted from the passenger window to him. He was still staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel firmly.

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused by his sudden question.

That’s when he turned his head to meet your gaze with a knowing look. “Come on, (Y/n). You were quiet during dinner, and you’re still quiet now.”

“I’m just a quiet person, Hyuck. You know me,” you replied with a shrug, your tone light as if trying to brush off the topic.

The light turned green, and Haechan pressed the gas pedal, smoothly moving the car forward. “You’re right— I do know you,” he sighed, pulling into a random parking spot on the side of the street.

You looked at him incredulously. “Donghyuck, what are you–”

Before you could finish questioning why he’d pulled over, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face you fully.

“Please talk to me, baby,” he said softly, his tone almost pleading. “I know something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

You let out a laugh, the kind that came instinctively in moments like this as if deflecting the weight of the situation. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I–I’m just tired, Hyuck. That’s all,” you said, reaching out to take his hand in yours.

But his concern didn’t waver. His brows furrowed, his thumb gently stroking your knuckles. “You’re never this quiet unless…” he began, his words trailing off as if hesitant to voice his fears.

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted, the faintest edge of frustration creeping into your tone. “Can you just take me home now?”

When you tried to pull your hand away, he tightened his grip, tugging it gently back.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” 

“Stop pushing me away,” he said. You could see him searching your eyes for the honesty you were hanging onto desperately like a rope.

Your heart stuttered at his stern words, and you couldn’t meet his eyes for a moment. The weight of his unflinching gaze pressed down on you in a way that made it impossible to keep your walls intact.

A defeated sigh escaped you. “Fine, I…I’m not okay. I just didn’t want to worry you.”

Haechan’s lips curved into a small smile. “Hate to break it to you, (Y/n), but as your boyfriend, worrying about you kind of comes with the job. No matter the circumstances.”

The lighthearted tone, paired with the sincerity in his words, made something inside you crack. Before you could stop them, tears began slipping down your cheeks. Haechan noticed immediately, his hand moving to gently lift your chin so your eyes met his.

“I’m sorry… I’ve just been letting my thoughts get to the best of me, and I can’t seem to shut them off,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “It’s stupid, everyone goes through this. That’s why–”

“Stop,” he interjected softly but firmly, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Don’t downplay how you’re feeling. It’s not stupid, and you’re not supposed to just push through it alone. Not when you have me.”

His words carried a weight that made your chest tighten, a reminder that his care was unwavering.

“I know you’re overwhelmed,” he continued, his voice gentle, “but you don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You just have to let me in. Let me help you carry it, baby. That’s what I’m here for.”

The love in his eyes was undeniable, and it struck a chord deep within you. He wasn’t asking for an explanation, a solution, or even for you to fix yourself— just for you to let him be there.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[therainscene]

I've described myself in the past as "overly-queerbaited" as a way of explaining why it took me so long to come around to Byler endgame as a legitimate possibility... but that's kind of a misleading way of putting it.

Truth is, I've always been too much of a cynical fuck to fall for queerbait... or any other story that promises positive queer rep.

[Sherlock couldn't touch me; I saw this cringe homophobia coming from a mile away. Fans mistaking straight anxiety jokes for meaningful gay subtext was clearly doomed to end in mockery. Nobody deserved to be treated like that... but god, it was easy to predict.]

I think it's a symptom of having grown up under Section 28 -- feeling like I'm being unreasonable for wanting to see queerness normalized is such an ingrained habit that even today I instinctively recoil like a vampire touching sunlight whenever an optimistic queer story falls unrequested into my lap.

But I'm hardly alone in feeling this way -- many queer Millennial and Gen-X fans of Stranger Things are against the idea of Byler because it would ruin the catharsis of watching the gay boy growing up in the same era as we did slowly succumb to the same despair that we did.

[For those who haven't played the VR game: Vecna is speaking in this screenshot.]

There's genuine comfort to be found in painful stories -- this type of catharsis is practically the cornerstone of horror as a genre -- so I can't really fault myself or anyone else for wanting it, despite the obnoxious oversaturation of disappointing queer endings in media.

This is the nostalgia show, after all -- and like it or not, for many middle-aged queers in the target audience, nostalgia is shot through with the pain of homophobia and loneliness.

But do you know who else is a hurt queer(-coded) adult who resents happy endings? This cynical fuck:

Henry personifies despair and loneliness and the dark urge to take our pain out on others -- and when Will is in the picture, I would argue that he also represents internalized homophobia.

Will might represent who we were -- but Henry represents who we've let ourselves turn into.

And I don't think many of us want to admit to that, because that would involve questioning why we have so much in common with the literal villain of the show; why we're still so consumed with self-pity after 20+ years that we're obsessing over the fate of some kid.

I'm not suggesting that wanting a less-than-fairytale ending for a fictional gay boy is equivalent to being a child killer lol. It's perfectly valid to want to see your pain acknowledged, and stories which appeal to that desire deserve to exist.

But between Henry's connection to Will and the cycle of abuse themes of the show, it's clear that this particular story simply isn't about wallowing in the bleakness of growing up gay in the 80s, but about self-actualizing in spite of it all.

So I just can't bring myself to want a "relatable" ending for Will.

As much as I struggle to enjoy positive queer rep, I don't want to be so cynical. I'd thrown up so many walls to protect myself as a teenager that I forgot how desperately I wanted to see just one of those painful queer stories end on the same uplifting note that straight stories were always entitled to: with true love overcoming the odds, saving the day, and living happily ever after.

[But I'm A Cheerleader, a surprisingly fun movie about conversion therapy, is proof that stories like this did exist when I was a teen... but finding them in the pre- and early-internet days amidst so much censorship was a tall order.]

What makes Stranger Things different from most queer stories -- and what allowed it to pierce through my defenses and stab me in the gut -- is that it perfectly mimics those bleak, acceptable-to-the-censors stories from my youth -- only this time, the secret uplifting gay plot twist is real.

Not for the sake of shock value or of grabbing some empty woke points at the last second, but because the plan all along was to slap the audience in the face for believing homophobic lies about the existence of queer happiness.

That's some gourmet catharsis, if you ask me.

Just the possibility that my inner child might finally be vindicated has allowed me to truly let myself want the things I want for the first time in 20 years -- and that's the first step towards finally crawling back out into the sunlight.

Happy Pride Month, everyone. 🌈

[coffeeco001]

Andrew was minding his own damn business at home when Neil had come running in top speed. He had been wasting his day mindlessly playing videogames with Sir and King while Josten was out doing who knows what. It was somewhat peaceful. He missed it already.

“I’m home!” Neil shouted from the doorway, not bothering to take his shoes off before pacing into the living room, carrying a large box, bags all over his arms.

“Can you help me with these, Andrew?” he asked. His cheeks were bright red from the cold and his jacket wasn’t zipped up properly. Honestly Andrew felt like he was living with a child sometimes. Standing up, he walked over slowly, grabbing the large box from Neil. It felt oddly light, so he tossed it onto the couch and reached for the bags. Neil immediately shifted half of the bags out of reach. 

“Not those ones. Take these.” He said, shoving the other arm of bags into Andrew’s face. It took an enormous amount of self control to not punch Josten right there. Who the hell demands help and then refuses it less than a full minute later? Grabbing the other bags, Andrew placed them on the ground and froze when he heard glass hitting glass. 

“Did I break it?” he asked, opening the bag to check the contents. There were Christmas decorations in the bag. Gaudy green, red, and silver Christmas decorations. Choking back his disgust, he opened another bag and found more. In a third, he found tinsel and some stupid green thing that he knew without asking was a door wreath. He looked up at Neil, his face full of disgust. 

“You’re kidding me. You went shopping for Christmas decorations the day before christmas eve?”

“No. Allison went shopping for Christmas decorations. I just had them dropped into my arms the day before christmas eve.” Neil explained, hurriedly walking away with the mystery bags and clearly going to hide them somewhere. Andrew was going to hunt those down the second Neil left their house.

“If you open the presents I am going to return all of them. Leave them alone, Andrew.” Neil yelled, shutting a door somewhere further away. Andrew made a mental note to reseal all of the presents after he opened them. Neil walked back into the room and stood in front of Andrew, crossing his arms. 

“Help me set up the tree, ‘drew?”

“No.” Andrew spit out, moving to grab the giant box that was clearly hiding a plastic christmas tree. He yanked out the stand and dug out the base of the tree, shoving the two pieces together. He got the middle section of the tree attached before Neil came over. 

“Wait, I think this thing goes under the tree.” he said, holding up a circular piece of red fabric. The monstrosity had gold glitter around the edges and little snowmen embroidered all over it. Andrew choked back his disgust and snatched it out from Neil’s hands, throwing it around the stand of the tree. After he got the tree put together, Neil came back over and helped him halfheartedly ‘fluff’ it. It was as tall as Andrew was and didn’t even vaguely resemble a real tree.

“What is the point of this, junkie?” he asked, taking the drink out of Neil’s hands and taking a sip. Whiskey. The little rabbit was probably going to drink it all by himself and never even say a word. Flipping Neil off, Andrew finished his drink and shoved the glass back at him. Belatedly realizing Neil had been holding two drinks. He took the second drink, probably meant for him in the first place, and drank that one too for good measure. Passing the glass back to Neil more gently this time, it was not missed by the irritating red head. To Neil’s credit, he just grinned and went and refilled both of their glasses.

“Allison said we were both grinchs and had some choice words on our version of Christmas so she is ‘Fixing it herself’ this year.” Neil explained, grabbing the bag that had tinsel. He strung some of it on the tree and reached into the bag, finding Christmas lights. 

“And we care what she thinks…. Since when?” Andrew muttered, grabbing the lights from a struggling Neil and hanging them up properly.

“Since we got this junk for free?” he snarked back, grabbing the ornaments and passing half of them to Andrew.

Andrew decided the backyard would be a perfect place to bury her body, Neil could be buried right next to her so that he could listen to her whining and annoying opinions for the rest of his afterlife. He was building an elaborate plan of it for the next twenty minutes while they decorated the tree and Neil finally sighed in relief

“I think we are done.” He said, standing up and going for a third drink. Andrew glanced around and saw a bag off to the side they had missed. Standing up, he walked over and saw it was the wreath. He grabbed the bag and walked to the front door, yanking it open and pulling the wreath out. He slapped it on the door and then stopped and looked at it for a second. There were little snowflake ornaments on it, in between the tacky poinsettia flowers. The ornaments had small pictures of him and Josten in them. Pictures Andrew had no idea existed. One of the pictures was almost falling off the wreath so Andrew adjusted it and leaned down to see what it was. 

He remembered that day perfectly. It was right after Neil’s first professional Court game. His team had just won and he’d spotted Andrew on the sidelines, ran over to him, and with permission had kissed him in front of everyone in the stadium. He had no idea why Allison would’ve gone through the trouble of finding all these little moments and framing them for him. What a pointless waste of reminiscing. But even still, he found it a little harder to keep a straight face than it normally was. Shutting the door gently, he turned and followed the tacky Christmas music Josten had started playing in their home. Maybe he’d send her a bottle of vintage wine this year.

[trutrustories]

STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE Part 1: Ouroboros

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining) Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta. I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

Soooo EPISODE 1, le´t go: 1)"Mobius It´s me!" few second in and we have slowmo chasing scene with detail on Loki, and Mobius and then THIS Loki´s heartbreaking look on his face here.

2) "Tell me, you recognize me!" (Loki trying to desperetly find Mobius, and then running towards him) Also If this Time slipping didn´t triggered anything external, but It´s just his own, unlocked power - I honestly don´t know, how they will explain that - does that mean, that he unknowingly unlocked this power, because he was send by Silvie into the past, and then he was simply desperete and Mobius couldn´t recognized him so his body reacted by time slipping to place and time, where Mobius would know who he is???

3) this very unexpected exhibition of touches (meaning Mobius practicaly glueing himself to Loki for this entire section)

I´m sorry, but my man here is like "no, I´m not about to let you have a personal space. NOT. AN. OPTION. let me hold you some more" xD

4) This scene in in an elevator first of all, that was a second time, he slipped and was RIGHT back with Mobius, the very next second. secondly: Mobius being scared for Loki and insisting he needs immediate help thirdly: Loki reassuring Mobius, It´s not that bad.

also this "we just had sex in a cabin" shot:

and lastly...

Big thanks to the film crew for this shot to give us an idea just HOW MUCH OF AN UNUSED SPACE was in the elevator! 👌

5) Mobius and Loki talking to OB. being perfectly coordinated team and smoothly working together, while standing on a same spot, but in a completely different time.

poetry... just poetry!

6) Distressed God and his Happy Face just so we know: how long is it, since their reunion? Because I would swear that not even five minutes ago Loki was in state of complete panic, and look at him now:

Look at him smiling, enjoying view at struggling mobius 💚

few minutes with this man, and HE forgets all about his trauma and just vibing.

me too, Loki. Me too 🥲

btw, this thing over here?!!!!

7) bickering, like married couple, part 1

8) "Mobius if I don´t make it back" and "You´ll make it back". What was it, what where you about to say Loki? It sounded important! next time TALK FASTER!

9) Mobius risking his life SKIN for loki and refusing to give up on him.

10) Loki saves Mobius in an epic fashion and they end up in a hug: also they roll around the floor together

I mean... this whole scene was absolute TOP! So yeah. That was a first episode. before the premiere I was litteraly hoping, that I will see our Loki and our Mobius together at least ONCE, before first end credits. I actually couldn´t believe my own eyes, holy shit!

[coffbeanie]

Posting this again to share some notes on my baby <3

-If you haven’t seen my last posts, this is Ceri Lagorio!!

-Most basic info is that they’re genderfluid, but they don’t know it yet, so they just do they/them pronouns in the beginning. They would realize this during their akuma episode and then come to better terms with this during their hero debut

-But i’ll get to that later

-They also go by “Cece” sometimes, and they’re 15-16 years old during the series, and also work as a Junior Dance Coach.

-Also they’re Italian and face wise, are based off that one fella from lemonade mouth

-Marinette and Ceri first met when they were little as Marinette got into dancing as a kid, so her parents signed her up for lessons

-She was in the same class as Ceri, so while they were pretty good, Marinette struggled due to their clumsiness.

-Ceri tried to help her catch up, but she ended up quitting, though they did keep in touch ever since

-Also when it comes to dancing specifically, they have moderate skills in most forms of dance, but they’re most interested in, and currently taking lessons in, ballet

-This is bc i wish i knew how to dance ballet so i’m self projecting

I put the rest of these under the cut cause idk i thought it would be too long

-Dancing is their main passion-they love listening to new songs to make up new choreographies, but they’re trying to balance that with studying cause they’re trying to find a more “practical” career path-something that will make them lots and lots of money

-To balance their work as a coach and their own practices, along with their school work and other extracurriculars. they stick to a very strict schedule

-As for their extracurriculars, I didn’t specify them-just stuff that’s time consuming to make them seem smart

-But back to their schedule-they are very strict and stick to their schedule to the second-they can’t do impulsive plans because they need to know beforehand about plans to hang out with friends

-Which they are still friendly! They love hanging out with their friends and helping them!! They just need to know all this stuff beforehand so they can put it into their schedule and figure out how to plan their time.

-Sides notes are at they def have those super pretty and aesthetic notes/planner

-While they’re the oldest of the zodiac kwami holders, they kept in touch with the other holders cause they work with a Dance Company at Dupont

-They met their other friends through Marinette after they planned a choreography for a Kitty Section music video

-They hang out mainly with the members of the band, but they’re the closest with Rose and Luka

[granulesofsand]

False-Positive and Imitated DID

🗝️🏷️ invalidation/fake-claiming, mentions of trauma and RAMCOA. We will transcribe the tables in an edit if anyone asks

Do we all know that study with the six women? Where the researchers undiagnosed them via mass testing and then asked them all about their systems so they could find out the differences between ‘Imitated’ DID and ‘genuine’ DID.

Same study, different formats

I’ve always hated that study. That’s a popular opinion in my system. Because they took these people aside and had them talk only to turn around and tell them they didn’t count. Even if they were right — which I have my doubts — they pulled apart what these people said while they were describing their own internal experience to get ‘themes’ of false-positive DID.

They say this study is part of a larger project with 86 total participants — only 7 of which were qualified as ‘genuine DID���. They had a big sample of people with elevated levels of dissociation about identity alteration, and only 7 of them had DID.

They measures they used were fine, they did lead with vagueness of definitions and underdiagnosis of DID, but then they had nearly as many false-positives in this one sample as the total of DID diagnoses in the whole thing???

And it just gets ickier from there on. Their big themes were

Believing they had DID

Describing identity confusion and conflicting self-states as dissociative

Changing clinical presentation as they learn

Talking too much about their self-states

Don’t like being told they don’t have DID

And those were what they went with. Not ‘lack of apparent trauma’ or ‘lack of amnesia’, which would change the concept of traumagenic DID as we know it, not even ‘confusion of medical terms’ — all of which they listed as subpoints.

Theme One

The first one, ‘endorsement and identification with the diagnosis’: they looked at media like books and YouTube videos. Four had been told they had DID, the other two were diagnosed with mood disorders and found it while branching out their reading.

Most people in the age range (22-42) at the time of finish and publish (2020 and 2021) would turn to the internet about a diagnosis they identified with. They had a lack of recall for aggression and anything to do with strong negative emotions (almost like dissociative people), but often none for daily life. Sounds like P-DID or OSDD-1!

Theme Two

Which leads to the second theme, ‘using the notion of dissociative parts to justify identity confusion and conflicting ego-states’. Two of these people described actual insiders with autonomy and the ability to step into control. One was more along the lines of OSDD-1a or just DID, the other somewhere between that and Immersive Daydreaming. Another three leaned closer to non-complex Dissociative Disorders with other diagnoses, and one they didn’t quote anywhere I can find.

If Mary didn’t meet the criteria for DID, it wouldn’t be ‘imitated’ DID. It would be OSDD-1, which is basically the same thing but something is off. Same with Dominique; if she couldn’t qualify for DID, she should probably still be treated for disordered plurality — she literally struggles with named self-states, give her some IFS at least.

Theme Three

Theme three has two names. They imply different things. The section is titled ‘exploring personal experiences via the lens of dissociation’. The women read up on the disorder and expanded their vocabulary, sometimes misusing new words.

Victoria realizes she is some flavor of dissociative. Dominique doesn’t get identity alteration but aligns herselves with co-consciousness. Karina notes other self-states’ memories as different when they share with her. Mary has flashbacks — the researchers also have this insistence that alter communication be auditory, and that’s just not super common.

Theme Four

The fourth also has two names; the subtitle is ‘talking about DID attracts attention’. They decide all these headmates are metaphors, though the headmates disagree.

Mary’s alters talk to their husband and therapist. Karina’s friend describes her as plural and she has a vlog for her alters. Katie wanted to write about her plurality and gain recognition for her lived experience. They’re not ashamed as the researchers think they ought to be, so they shan’t be diagnosed.

Theme Five

This last one is ‘ruling out DID leads to disappointment and anger’. As if they didn’t interview these people about their supposedly DID systems. It goes back to the shame, and their reactions were not utter joy.

Katia says she would rather have a diagnosis, and that she would answer differently if asked a few years ago. Mary mentioned her younger selves felt neglected and disbelieved. Karina said they didn’t give her a differential diagnosis, then later sent them videos asking them to reconsider. Victoria was apparently happy enough, but she also wanted to know what was happening.

Discussion

Papers usually have a section interpreting their results and their inadequacies. They did not find themselves inadequate. Some of it was true, others made me pity their lack of understanding.

No intrusions of trauma material; atypical but not reason to refuse treatment. Somatoform symptoms don’t count as severe if they’re aggravated, I guess. Voices as primarily auditory came from a study claiming high levels of auditory hallucinations with DID.

They have a whole thing about switching — they did it during interviews and said so, but continued to use first person pronouns for actions prior to the switch. They said DID patients tend to be flightier with new people, then didn’t consider that their patients might be flighty — or inexperienced — in a different way.

Below the cut is a list of ‘red flags’ with our experience for each one. There are brief mentions of programming and RAMCOA.

There was only amnesia for emotional distress (wonder why). The women missed the word ‘flashback’ as also referring to positive memories of foreign origin. And then there’s this monstrosity:

I’m going to use our system as an example.

We were referred to our current therapist to confirm our CDD after returning from inpatient; we had experienced our first episode of co-consciousness during PHP. (Everymany knows you’re only valid if a stranger who may or may not believe in DID exists brings up your inner experience first)

The first time someone sincerely told us they thought we were plural, we brushed it off as forgetfulness and adolescence. Our current therapist let us know we did have blackouts, which qualified us for DID. We did the clinical evals before we approached our old therapist or our PHP therapist. (And they can only bring it up after they have you fill out packets and answer interviews)

We learned about DID because of the friend who noticed we had it. They were an alter is a DID system. Both of us learned about the diagnosis further from textbooks, studies, and internet sites. (In fact, you shouldn’t even know DID exists beyond maybe popular movies)

We didn’t start with jargon. We picked it up slowly, lots of PluralPedia, and only use it when it’s too difficult to describe ourselves; lack of language, too many words, therapist looks confused. But you’re telling me ‘parts’ is too technical?

We’re all over the board with this one. Before therapy, we would overshare and then shut down. I’ve had to work a lot on my self-image and realizing that having caused doesn’t mean I am harm. Others in my system have had a similar path; I made a mistake vs I am a mistake. And that’s also tied to trauma and re-traumatization, so systems or alters without that experience might not feel that shame or learn to cope with avoidance.

If somebody I didn’t recognize came up to me and told me I bit them, I would say that was not me. I did not bite them, I do not bite at all, and I would be perfectly fine with blaming that on an alter. Because it was. Some of us pretend to be one another or lie, but it’s not because we secretly don’t have DID.

What kind of evidence proves flashbacks? That sounds like they want a brain scan or to watch you relive trauma. We use a cane for possibly somatoform symptoms and have programming, but who knows what counts.

If they asked like that, I would’ve sat there quietly. Some littlies say there were ‘angels’ voices they heard externally when they were around, and we talk to each other with words most times. Again, they really want those auditory hallucinations.

Y’all, if your amnesia never or no longer affects non-negative events, this must mean no system. Our subsystems don’t always have amnesia for daily life, and we’ve gotten pretty good at sharing information and memories. We worked on that, but only because our system had amnesia there. You don’t need alter-to-alter amnesia at all for DID, let alone for neutral-to-positive stimuli. And here, too, evidence required.

We took the scenic route in explaining our symptoms and answering questions about them, weaving and losing trains of thought. The first person we went to (our PHP therapist) never asked at all, and we told him everything — only to be shot down as ‘not having trauma’ (like we’d admit to that for a fourteen hour stay).

We did not announce it with that guy, but we were Not Subtle. He triggered one of our gatekeepers with the trauma comment, and that guy stayed in front with maybe one other alter — neither of whom were the person who usually went.

Our goal has always been to make our system ours, and we don’t want to be anything else. We have a lot of skills that singlets never will, and we have relationships and other benefits that are important to us. We can read and listen to two separate pieces of media, hold conversations amongst ourselves, practice skills while a thousand other alters do the same. There are awesome things about plurality, and it’s okay to enjoy them. We also run a blog, in case you couldn’t tell.

I know we have DID. We know we have DID. It was extra scary when that PHP guy said we didn’t, and then it was disappointing when we had to leave our good therapist for a stranger. If a clinician we weren’t comfortable with tried it now, we would probably laugh and have a go at them. I don’t care if it really isn’t DID, but nobody is telling me we aren’t a system.

We hit damn near every ‘red flag’ they offered. Our system is classic, overt, even RAMCOA survivors like the examples m psych students get to understand ‘ah, this is Dissociative Identity Disorder’.

There is a range of systems that fit DID, even more that have CDDs, and even more who are plural. The diagnoses are supposed to help you, and if they aren’t, you don’t need to bother with them. Work on being authentic and free and safe and whatever else you might have set as a goal. You’re more than a code in a book.

[flyingfluse]

AZIRAPHALE SONG

Did anyone ask me to write a song about Aziraphale? Nope. Did I feel the undying need to spend every free second of the last two months doing it anyway, loosing my sanity in the process? Absolutely. So here are the lyrics for Aziraphale Alone, a 8-9 minute classical music/musical inspired soliloquy of our favorite angel, diving into his brilliant and confused brain after the season 2 finale. Enjoy!

(note: I plan on posting a version that is less explicitly romantic, especially without a certain section in this song, for people who view their love as ace and don’t feel comfortable reading their ship in this light)

Aziraphale Alone

Heaven. Aziraphale is alone, lonely, exhausted. And a bit annoyed.

Endless white, so blank, so bright.

This place is unbearably dull.

No colours, no smells, no ringing bell

As the door opens to the shop of Mr. Fell.

No vintage wine, no books, no Sondheim!

No trace of humour or wits.

No Sundays in Parks, no clever remarks

And no dinners at the Ritz.

Aziraphale fondly remembers his time on earth with a certain someone.

At night my heart's turned into rivers of ink,

When there was magic in the air.

And in the blink of an eye I would sink

Into the depths of a warm yellow glare

Building a home, fragile yet quaint

With a good fortune to share

A place with the pleasure of no self-restraint

Where stars are made in the most fervid of flares.

Our timeless dance is enchanting the shop

No miracle could compare.

(reluctant) Then the music stopped. The curtain dropped.

(woeful) And no nightingale sang in Berkeley -.

(Composing himself) You and I have spent millennia working on opposite sites.

And truly I as a dutiful angel was meant to resent and despise

The foul fiend demon Crowley supposedly one of the worst of his kind,

But the meanest, most hurtful deed you ever did was uttering those lines.

Music picks ups speed. Choir joins in as well as the full orchestra.

(getting more and more irritated) How could you dare to simply declare

the absence of our song?

When I was right there, one half of the pair,

of the us you claimed you long to be!

But apparently so

there's so much I don't know!

As if I hadn't learnt a thing

seeing how they burnt your wings,

casting you down below!

I may seem naive, but there's one thing I now understand

That we can't achieve peace, when our castle is made of sand.

Our lovely reprieve has finally come to an end!

For there will be another storm we can't take cover from.

We must act now there's no time for laments!

And there was a solution how we could reduce any

risk of losing what matters most,

So then how could you choose to leave me and refuse

the chance we could have used to finally depose

The faulty regime, heaven's design

is flawed, I know, I am not blind!

That's why we need to find a way to make it right

For heaven's the root of truth, goodness in light.

Still certainly better than the other side!

There may be exemptions to the rule,

But hell is still callous cold and cruel

With torment and torture as daily routines.

Do you think I haven't seen

How you have suffered all these years?

How you have struggled to fight the fear,

That's lingering in your eyes, when you try to hide

your kindness behind a shady guise.

You say you're not nice, a demon who's wily

Wicked, vicious, who always lies.

You can fool everyone and yourself,

But I know your goodness far too well.

Your heart and decency break quietly, secretly

straight through the ceiling of what is allowed!

You act when something‘s wrong, knowing you could be gone

right when the graveyard yawns and hell breathes out.

(Softly) Can you blame me for wanting to see

You smile like you did back then,

When stars filled your eyes with wonder and glee.

I just want you to be that happy again.

You‘ve grown so gloomy, weary and tired.

So I tried to bring you the sun,

(hurt) But you‘ve clarified that‘s not what you desire.

I don‘t even know why I’m stunned,

I guess I was the silly one.

He remembers what followed after their argument.

But then you pulled me in, caught me by surprise,

Warning sirens were howling above.

But shock and confusion would quickly subside.

One glorious moment it all wore off.

One ardent touch and the world fell away

And with it the looming and intricate veil

Of pretence, apprehension, prejudice and pride,

I get lost in indulgence that we’ve been denied.

My hands wander up as my thoughts wander down.

The taste of your tempting lips lets me drown

Deep in your divine, deserving embrace,

Your sweet velvet wine, I could drink it for days.

A ravenous craving I’ve tried to control

To selfishly savour your body and soul.

The music crescendos, getting faster and faster.

Oh how I wish we could just run

Away and paint our own shade of grey.

A fervent mix of blue and red,

Two parts of a painting that finally connect.

You take the wheel, full speed ahead,

Home, to a place where we will forget

The watchful eyes and silent threats

and at last-

Stop!

You‘re going too fast.

(Broken)

Endless white, it shines so brightly through the open blinds.

I shakily stand on this earth we were send to and

can't understand just what I should do.

These quarrelsome queries that I've grown so wary of

haunting my mind like ghosts in a tomb.

How to follow my heart with the song of the lark

bringing back bitter sweetness I‘ve tried to discard?

I just try to be good.

I need to be good.

Why is that so incredibly hard?

And maybe I’m where the problem lies, a

pathetic excuse for an angel for sure,

Destined to fail, disloyal, a liar,

Too soft, too scared and too insecure.

(Overcome with love) But you‘ve made a change, you helped me see

That I am worth the effort of

Risking paperwork to save me from quandaries,

That me being there is more than enough.

You‘re so much kinder than everyone else,

So how come that you are the one who fell?

Even though I have been also defying them,

so terrified of losing her love.

Can’t tell, what’s right or wrong, now that you're truly gone,

how can I move along in the above?

Still, my faith in god stand, I know she’s got a plan

So ineffable even to those who attempt

To end life here on earth, erase progress and mirth

It just can’t be true that all this was meant to be!

(He stops. Shocked. Scared.)

(slowly) Asking questions that’s how it starts,

First the fall, then falling apart.

Can it be that it’s hell I am running towards?

But maybe just maybe her divine intent

has always been for me to thwart!

(With growing conviction) God can’t be where the problem lies,

But there’s a blaze scorching the management board.

It’s said that you must fight fire with fire,

And I was the one given the flaming sword!

I can’t just turn my back and run,

I’ll get that book, take out my gun,

Won’t shoot past the ear, but aim for the head,

a moral argument they won’t forget!

I will make a change. I will make them see

We don’t need more floods but simply a dove!

Don’t they know heaven’s supposed to be

A place of kindness and love?

And you, my dear, left me no choice

But to walk this path alone

Like water off ducks, this picture of us,

Slid right through my fingers, turning to dust.

I left my home, lost all I loved

Though one thing I couldn‘t stand

Even if nothing lasts forever

I cannot lose my best friend!

You’ve rescued me so many times,

all part of our little dance.

And now that the music has picked up its pace

it’s my turn to take a stance!

I get it now! You won‘t come back,

but I won’t wait till they attack!

Got some things to suggest,

This time I won‘t stand still!

I’m a guardian angel and protect this world I will!

(Quieter, gentler, but with equal resolve)

Protect my world, I will.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Book Five: Section Three

Dapper's psychosis worsens as he goes on without treatment, and the others try to figure out what to do while still trying to maintain a feeling of safety. Masterlist

Tws for self-hatred, past abuse, and psychosis and treatment discussions, including institutionalization. Marvin also snaps at the audience a couple times. Tws may not be completely exhaustive - keep in mind the heaviness of the fic and look out for yourself.

Thank you to @lehhoh7822 for taking the time to compile this book!

.

Blue wakes up alone.

He rubs at his face and turns over, considering just going back to sleep. He’s tired. But he’s hungry, too, and if he’s hungry than his brothers are hungry, and if his brothers are hungry, he needs to make breakfast.

“Jackie?” he calls, hoping his twin is just getting ready in the bathroom, but there’s no answer. The house is cold. He drags himself out of bed, shuddering in the chill. Ugh. The football jersey he threw on as a sleep-shirt is sweaty and unwashed, not unlike his dead white hair. He picks at a scab on his neck til it bleeds, frustrated from the moment he wakes up.

There’s a note on the bedside table in his brother’s struggling, messy handwriting.

Blue, I went to town because I found out about some people who can maybe help us get a place to stay and food and a job and things. I will get some stuff we need at the store. I checked last night and you and me and Chase are registered as Irish citizens in the health care system acording to the website but Dapper and Dok are British and German so it maybe costs some money to take them in to see someone but if they need appointements right now I will find the money. I’ll be home later and hopefuly we can go stay somewhere else. Love Ro

“You’ve got to be kidding, Red,” protests Blue, gripping at his hair. “None of us should be out alone. He hates crowds and public transportation but he just goes out alone… determined bastard. How will I find him if something happens? Dammit!”

He crumples the paper and throws it at the wall, slumping back into bed. Maybe he will just go back to sleep. But then again he feels so disgusting. This goddamn skin. He pulls the blankets over his head and groans into his pillow.

Anonymous asked: Blue, I think it might be possible some of Anti's magic or his 'soul' or anything might remain in you. Not that you are not your own person, but you've been showing signs that some of his magic might have stuck in you when Dark ripped him out. I mean, the anger, the love of Trick, the possible accidental hypnotism. I think it's something you should consider.

“Ah, right, yeah,” says Blue, slouching out of bed and washing his face in the bathroom sink. “Forgive me for having some shit going on right now and a friendship with one of my brothers. Must be a demon in my soul. Glad to know I look that much like my abuser to the lot of you.”

He throws the towel down and stares back at you, eyes flashing. “You sound like Dapper. Anti is DEAD. Move on.”

scunneredzombie asked: Jackie, did you bring a camera with you?

“He probably didn’t even bother to think of that,” mutters Blue, checking the bag to count how many cameras they have with them. “Maybe he at least took Anti’s phone if he really needs anything. He’s having so much fun with his new independence he’s starting to get sloppy.”

Blue shifts through some of his clean clothes for a minute, but what does it even matter? He drops his bag and gets up, heading to the room next door.

“Chase, Dok! Do you want breakfast?”

There’s no answer. He cracks the door open quietly and finds only one sleep-tousled twin laid out in the stolen bed, eyes closed, breathing soft and even. For a second, Blue feels a little better. He shouldn’t be so grouchy. They’re fighting a lot lately, sure, but what matters is that Anti is gone and they’re all together and alive. They’ll go from there.

“Where’s your twin, though, huh?” he sighs, closing the door. “Dok? Chase must be tired if he’s sleeping through you sneaking off. Henrik?”

Anonymous asked: I didn't say you look like your abuser. I said it's seriously a possibility some of his magic stuck to you. Blue, he is dead, and he is gone. But this is a serious thing to consider, you shouldn't brush it off so quick. You looked Chase in the eye and possibly hypnotized him a bit. That can't be just tossed aside like it doesn't matter.

“What are you talking about?” mumbles a sleepy voice behind him, and a second later, Chase is creaking open the door, blinking at him.

“Just something stupid,” snipes Blue, setting the camera down on the shelf beside him. “Forget it.”

Chase hums sleepily.

But the more he thinks about it, the more it starts to eat at him. He’s nauseous. Anti still here? Anti still inside him, moving him, controlling him? He remembers -

Ink in his mouth, and blood on his face -

Laughter. Not his laughter, but from his mouth.

Dapper stares up at him like he’s everything he hates and loves at the same time.

Henrik is splayed out beneath him, screaming for help, but all he does is keep hitting him, again and again, beating his fists against his head, his chest, his arms, til his knuckles are stained with Henrik’s blood.

“Do you think Marvin’s going to fucking wake up, you little bitch, is that what you’re screaming for? Do you think big brother’s going to save you? No one is fucking coming, Henrik, no one is going to save you, and all your brother can do is fucking WATCH - ”

“Blue,” comes a steady voice, and then Chase’s hands are cupping his cheeks, trying to draw his gaze. “Blue. I’m here. Just breathe.”

Blue leans over and grabs his stomach, shaking so hard he can’t stay on his feet. His knees buckle and Chase grabs him, holding him tight and helping him to sit down.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. Blue, you’re okay.”

These hands, these hands, his hands, his hands. He can feel - he still remembers -

He grabs his throat and wheezes, crumpling in over himself, letting Chase fold over him and hold him, making reassurances to him again and again and again.

Anonymous asked: You are you, even if his magic does remain. You were you and he was him. Nothing he did is your doing, nothing he said is your fault. You are Blue/Marvin and you have been through all of this. He stole from you, stole your body, but nothing he used it for is your fault. Do not shoulder the responsibility of your abuser, love.

“I need - I need to talk to Henrik - why won’t he talk, Chase, why doesn’t he talk, I need - ”

“I know, Blue, I know.”

“And Dapper looks at me like he still sees him in me, I hate that, I hate him, I hate all of this. I can’t ever fix anything, I’m just - ”

“It’s not your job to fix anything, Blue, just breathe.”

“He took everything from me!” screams Blue, jerking so hard Chase pins him down slightly, scared he’ll slam his head into something. “I wish I had killed him slower! I wish I had chained him up in that barbed wire and tore through that fucking cut on his throat once and for all!”

Chase takes long, slow breaths, trying to get Blue to follow.

“It’s not your fault, Blue, what he did.”

“I can still feel him crawling inside me, fucking parasite.”

“It’s just the trauma, Blue. He’s gone.”

“What if I did hypnotize you?”

“What?”

“What if I did? The other day? We made eye contact and you - you got all - kind of dopey, you know?”

“I’m not Trick anymore,” says Chase firmly. “Nothing like that happened. Just forget it, Blue. It’s done.”

scunneredzombie asked: Chase, any idea where Henrik got to? Outside maybe? Take your time with Blue, he needs you, but finding Dok should be the next-up.

“Oh, shit,” says Chase, sitting up. “Oh, fuck, he must have snuck off while I was asleep, fuck.”

It puts fear in him immediately, and he’s on his feet, calling for him. “Dok? I’m here! Where are you? You don’t think he ran off, do you? Blue, I’m going to go grab him, just quick, I’ll be right back.”

Blue lets him go without protest, slumping back against the wall. It’s Chase’s job to protect his brother the same way Marvin was supposed to look out for all of them. He buries his face in his hands and closes his eyes, flowers curling out from one sleeve of his shirt in woeful blue petals.

Anonymous asked: None of you have jobs anymore, you all deserve to relate with and help each other at any time, like a family. Not Antis dollhouse, but an actual family, all of you to all of you.

“I gave up Marvin for a chance to save them someday,” Blue tells you quietly, running his fingers over old scars. “But all I could do was kill him and that fixed so little. I still have to see them all breaking in half and I can’t do anything about it. Can’t even get a hold of myself. You’re right, Red and I are just going to end up being the new version of him. Controlling because we think we care, unlike him, but controlling anyway. Maybe I do still treat Chase like Trick. I wish so badly that one of them could just be… okay. Could just be himself again. Happy and healthy and fine. But we’re all just fucked up and tired. How am I even supposed to start fixing any of this? I think even if Red gets us everything we need, we’ll still all just be shadows of the people we used to be.”

He pauses, breathing more even, more slow. Okay. Okay.

“I wish my hair would grow back,” he adds, voice small. “I really wish this body was mine again.”

scunneredzombie asked: And are shadows not still worthy of love and care? You, all of you, need to stop trying to be the exact people you were before he was in control. Trauma /changes/ you. Trauma changes your brain, physically and emotionally. But those changes don't take away your value or your personhood. It's okay to change, and it's okay to feel like shadows for a bit while you heal. Don't give up, you lot!

Blue is quiet, staring down at his feet, his knees drawn to his chest.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “They all still deserve a lot. I… deserve better. A lot better than the way he treated us. I just wish I could give it to them. I think it’s so ingrained in my head - and in Ro’s too - that we have to make sure they’re okay before we can be okay. I guess maybe I should be focusing on myself but I just want them to be… ugh. What a mess all of this is.”

He feels bad all the way down to his heart, doubly exhausted now from his freak-out, and embarrassed that Chase saw him like that. His little brother is coming back towards him now, Dok in tow and a worried look on his face, but Blue doesn’t want to see them right now. Doesn’t want to see Henrik silent and blank from the things that Blue - that Anti did to him. Doesn’t want to risk looking too deeply into Chase’s eyes and realizing that you might be right, and some part of Anti remains inside of him, enough to mess with Chase’s brain. Doesn’t want to be looked at at all, not while he’s… this.

“Can I just get some alone time?” he asks, rubbing his face.

“I could be alone with you,” offers Chase quickly. “But, um, also - ”

“Chase, I just - I just want some alone time.”

Chase glances back at Henrik, who blinks at him. He sighs.

“Um, okay. Yeah, no worries. But if you need anything, Blue… you know I’d do anything for you, right?”

“I love you too,” answers Blue softly.

Chase’s mouth flickers with a small, taut smile. He leads Henrik back down the stairs.

Anonymous asked: Blue. You're putting shields up against people that don't want to hurt you. You have a right to your privacy always, but you don't have to deny the fact that you need help and you want to get better. You're a problem solver but it's okay to ask for help and it's okay to accept it as well.

“Yeah, well,” grouses Blue, getting up and heading back towards his room. “Consider this one more shield.”

And he closes his door and leaves you in the hallway.

Downstairs, Chase flinches at the sound of the door shutting. He squares his shoulders and lets go of a deep breath, stepping out onto the porch.

“Okay, Dap,” he says unsteadily. “Blue is taking a break. But we can figure this out between the three of us, right?”

Dapper doesn’t reply. His hands are coated black with charcoal, which he has spread across the entire back wall of the house, repeating drawings of eyes over and over and over again.

Anonymous asked: JJ, are you alright? Another paranoid episode?

“Hey, Dapper,” murmurs Chase, sinking to his knees beside him. “Hey, look at me. Are you okay? JJ? Can you look at me?”

He just keeps drawing. Henrik is already on his other side, right where Chase found him this morning - trying to pull the charcoal out of his hand and touching the back of his head like he’s somehow holding him in place. It’s the most independent reaction Chase has seen his twin offer in weeks, but it isn’t doing much. Henrik tightens his grip on the charcoal and Dapper shoves his hand away, curled low over an eye on the corner of the house.

“Dapper,” says Chase, louder, putting a hand on his chin and trying to draw his gaze to him. “You didn’t sleep, did you? You have to stop. Jameson, hey.”

Henrik blinks at him from the other side of their brother. Dapper doesn’t stop.

“Okay.” Chase chews on the nail of his thumb. “Okay, so not listening. Maybe not hearing me. Dapper, can’t you just tell me what you need? What are the eyes for?”

He’s been scrawling so hard and for so long that there’s blood on the ends of his fingers.

scunneredzombie asked: Offer a reality check, Chase? Like reminding him where he is, his name, your name, that he's safe, etc. Reminders of truths and things that would provide comfort.

“Dapper? I’m here. It’s me, Chase, and Henrik, too. That’s who’s touching you. You’re safe here, yeah? Dap. Look at me, okay? Can you please? Can you tell me what the eyes are for?”

Dapper scrapes at his ears for a second. They’re black with charcoal and red with how hard he’s been scratching at them, cupping them, striking them. Chase pulls his hand down from his ear.

“You’re going to make yourself bleed. JJ, talk to me.”

“Can’t talk.”

“Hey! Yeah, here I am, okay, I know you can’t talk, I just mean - you know what I mean, right, you - ”

“Nobody’s listening. Just talking talking talking.”

“I’m here, it’s Chase, I’m listening.”

Dapper keeps drawing eyes. Or Chase thinks they’re eyes. They seem to just be devolving into ovals with circles inside them. Dapper rocks himself forward with a sudden intensity, letting himself slump against the back wall like he’s trying to collapse into it, but still drawing, still drawing.

“I’ll get you some water, okay?” offers Chase, drawing back from him, unnerved. Dapper’s posture is distinctly uncomfortable-looking, like a mannequin with cut strings left splayed against the wall, but he doesn’t try to adjust. His pupils are shrunken dots.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whispers to himself, hurrying into the house to get him some water.

Henrik stays outside, staring at Dapper as he draws. After a second he sits down beside him and starts tracing over the eyes with his finger, smudging it in charcoal. Dapper pushes his hand away and corrects the lines he’s marred without comment. Henrik has a hand on his knee, quiet.

Anonymous asked: Is Anti talking to you, Jay? He's just a ghost now, don't fret. He can't hurt you, and he can't see you. He's a hallucination. You're very paranoid and scared right now, I understand. Try to bring yourself back to reality. Focus on the water's coldness, on Henrik and Chase being there for you, on the friendly, brotherly hands that touch and try to bring you back. You will be okay. No one is watching besides people who love you.

Chase is good with him by now - knows what to say, how to hold onto him, what to look out for when things are getting bad. But no matter how much he speaks reassurances in calm, even tones and short sentences, or how gently he repositions his shaking body, or how carefully he’s trying to look after him, he’s not coming out of it.

“How long has he been like this?” asks Chase, looking up at his twin like he’s hoping he’ll start talking again in this exact moment and give him all the answers like he used to. “What are we supposed to do? I need Red or Blue.”

He gets to his feet, stalking in circles as he tries to think. There’s a sudden dry yelp and he turns, alarmed, to see Henrik reeling back, gripping his nose.

“Dapper!” Chase howls. “It’s Dok, not Anti! Did you hit him?”

He reaches down to grab his wrist, but Dapper thrashes free, teeth gritted, eyes watering with fear.

“He’s everywhere, he won’t leave me alone, I can’t get out of my room…”

Chase pulls Henrik to his feet and leads him inside, sitting him down on the couch. This is out of control. He knows what he would do next, but - well, he’s not in charge. He needs Red or Blue.

scunneredzombie asked: You're in charge right now Chase. You're the most functional person around currently. Try doing what your idea was, it could be helpful. JJ just needs people to be cautious and gentle to him right now, remind him he's free and not in that prison of a room. Turn him around and let him see the grass and forest behind the house, take him onto the soil if you can. Literal 'grounding'.

Chase sits with Dapper a while longer, looking at him. He tries touching him, pulling at him, trying to turn him around, but Dapper just yanks back towards the wall with increasing desperation, his fingers smearing blood across charcoal. It’s been a long time since he’s been this stuck in his head, but the truth is that he’s been struggling for weeks now, and there are a lot of things Chase wishes they would have done for him a long time ago.

Okay. He’s in charge right now.

He’s not little brother. He’s just a brother. No more hierarchy. Okay.

He gets to his feet and goes up to Blue’s room. He opens the door and steps inside, and his sibling looks up at him in confusion from beneath a pile of somebody else’s blankets.

“Dapper needs to go to the hospital,” says Chase. “I’m going to take him to the bus stop.”

Anonymous asked: Good call, Chaser. Do you know if there's any behavioral clinics near to you? JJ would have a difficult time in the hospital, what with all the strangers, but it might be just what would help right now. He need his medicine and he needs a safe place with people who know what to do.

“Hold up, what’s going on?” demands Blue, hurrying out of bed. “Let me see him. I’ll handle it.”

“Blue, I love you, but you and Dapper aren’t really best friends right now. He’s been hallucinating and erratic for days now and now he’s almost totally unresponsive, drawing eyes on the walls and scraping at his ears because his voices are so loud. Blue, he’s having a psychotic break, and if it doesn’t get handled, not only is he going to keep suffering, he could snap the timeline. I know we’re used to Dapper being kind of - well, weird. But we can’t pretend any of this is normal.”

“Okay, but Chase, if we take him to a hospital, they might put him in a psych ward.”

“What if he needs to be in a psych ward for a little while?” asks Chase, exhausted. “With professionals? Or what if they just give him some medication and let him come home with us once he’s stable?”

“We need to run this past Jackie,” says Blue, pushing past Chase to go find his little brother.

“Jackie’s not here. And even if he were… you know he wouldn’t let us do this. He’s so scared of losing control he would never let someone else take care of his baby brother. He’s paranoid too right now. Dapper needs to see a professional. Now.”

Blue pushes out onto the porch. Dapper doesn’t look up at him, but when Blue reaches out to touch his shoulder, Dapper gasps and cowers from him, wrapping his arms around his head and curling in on himself, panting.

“Oh, lovey, oh, love,” moans Blue, tugging at his hair, stressed. “Um, I - I don’t know. I just wanted to take him to a clinic to get a prescription.”

“That’s all Anti ever did for him,” mumbles Chase. “It was never enough. Let’s at least look for behavioral clinics like they said.”

“We don’t have any way to do that. No phone or computer or anything. And we are not talking to the neighbors - we’ve already fucked up this whole house, don’t need to be any more suspicious.”

scunneredzombie asked: Blue, I know it hurts, but there's not much you or Chase can do for him right now. Going to an urgent care or a hospital is what he needs right now, or something bad could happen to him. When people become unresponsive there's not much to do - if they don't have their medicine - besides taking them to a doctor. I've had to do it before, there's no shame in it. Psychosis is a serious thing and needs serious help.

“What’s the stress here?” asks Chase wearily. “What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” snaps Blue, trying not to cry. “Maybe that we’re broke and he’s not in the health care system? Or that he’s mute and psychotic and they might treat him badly? That he might be scared, that he might be violent, that he might talk too much about his abusive family and all the people we’ve murdered? How about the fact that Jackie is going to be pissed and terrified? Chase, this isn’t going to work.”

Chase stares down at his feet for a second, eyes tired.

“Blue,” he says after a moment. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life sick and hiding.”

Blue sighs, closing his eyes.

“You’re good, right, Chase?” he asks. “That’s not true what Jackie said. That you’re just acting like the sunshine kid to make me happy.”

Chase cringes slightly, looking away. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Fuck,” Blue curses, rubbing at his face. “Fuck…. fine. Okay. Okay, yes, we’re doing this. Jackie will flip his shit, but we’ll deal with it. Dapper, honey. We gotta go. Come with me, okay?”

Still just drawing. Just drawing in circles.

“How are we doing this?” asks Blue.

“I don’t know,” sighs Chase. “Carry him?”

“I’m going to pull him a little here,” warns Blue, reaching down. He ends up wrapping his arms tight around Dapper’s shoulders and heaving him to his feet even as Dapper starts to struggle, alarmed. Once he’s up he’s a little less steady, but less angry too, just blinking around at the world with tears in his eyes and a shaking piece of charcoal in his hand.

“Babe, we’re going to the hospital,” says Blue clearly. “Come on, okay?”

“I’m not allowed - ”

“You’re allowed. It’s okay. Chase, you ready?”

“What? No, I have to stay here with Dok.”

“You’re sticking me with him alone? You were the one who said he doesn’t like me that much right now!”

“What are we supposed to do, bring two tortured brothers into the ER? That won’t look suspicious!”

“So I’ll stay with Dok, then!”

Chase flinches, shaking his head rapidly.

“Chase - ”

“I’ll stay with him,” says Chase, creeping back towards the house. “I have to stay with him.”

Blue groans and turns to Dapper, who stares back at him with his huge, terrified eyes.

“Fine, fine,” he breathes out. “This is going to be a trainwreck. This is going to suck. Come on, buddy.”

“I’m not allowed.”

“You’re allowed.”

“I’m stuck in my room… he’s going to hurt me…”

“Come on, Dap.”

Anonymous asked: Chase, let Blue stay with Henrik. You need to be able to trust other people to take care of him. Get away from the twin hierarchy and let another brother care for him. JJ is scared of Blue currently, he needs someone he fully trusts to guide him. Henrik will be okay without you for just a few hours. Everything will be alright.

Chase shifts back towards the house, clinging to the doorway. He can hear Henrik playing with an old game of dominoes on the coffee table, clicking and placing the pieces together. He doesn’t want to go.

“Don’t you trust me?” asks Blue.

“It’s not about that,” says Chase.

“So what’s it about.”

“He’s mine,” snarls Chase, face darkening. “Not yours. Not anybody else’s. And when he wakes up, it’s me he’s coming back to.”

He turns on Blue and shuts the door.

Anonymous asked: He doesn't belong to you Chase. Henrik is his own person, and he is not to be treated like he's helpless just because he can't speak. Don't be possessive in that way, it too reminiscent of Anti.

Chase chews on his nails, staring at his brother. Henrik is putting the domino pieces together right, or at least in a way that makes sense. Matching colors and numbers. He’s there, just… far away.

“Sorry, Blue,” he calls through the door.

Blue snorts on the other side. “That was fast. You have a temper like a bunny rabbit. Go get Dapper some shoes.”

Chase moves off to find the nearest pair of torn-up sneakers, tired of the day already. He hands them over to Blue and watches him help lace them onto Dapper’s feet, sinking down onto the couch beside Henrik. He moves one of his dominoes and Henrik’s eyes flicker up to him, slightly narrow in a way that makes Chase think maybe he knows he’s being played with. He laughs weakly and touches his brother’s cheek. Henrik gazes at him, blinking.

“I should never have left you alone, man,” whispers Chase. “I wish you were here to forgive me. I just don’t want you to be alone again when you come back.”

Henrik stares at him. His glasses are a little crooked on his nose. A little broken and a little crooked. His twin.

Henrik reaches slowly out and wraps his arms around his neck, letting his head fall down onto Chase’s shoulder. Chase feels a shaky breath escape from his chest. He tries to move slowly. Tries not to startle him. Can’t break this.

He hugs his brother back slowly, his hands pressing into his back. They seem to fit just right.

“I’ll take him if you really want,” Chase tells him a few minutes later, sliding back towards Blue. “Dok’s okay. Dapper’s not.”

“I almost want to take him now,” sighs Blue. “That’s my job, right?”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“He’s already upset with me. If you take him, he might be mad at you too.”

“Either way will be okay with me.”

Anonymous asked:

Would either one of you be more confident dealing with medical professionals and paperwork and all that to get him admitted? I'd lean more towards Chase just because JJ and Marv are still having a hard time, but of course it's up to y'all. There's practical bits to taking him to a hospital that y'all can consider too.

A

“Oh, hell,” says Chase. “I don’t even know my fake name. Or his.”

“I gave you your ID, how can you not know that?”

“I don’t know where it is, haha.”

“Chase!”

“I’ll find it…”

Anonymous asked: You are allowed to go Dapper. You are free, Anti is gone. You can finally have therapy and doctors and medicine. No one tells you what to do anymore. You are 'allowed' to do anything at all, especially if it's helpful and beneficial for your health.

“Do you want to pick, bud?” asks Blue, putting a hand on his back. “You can make your own choice now, they’re right. It’s okay. It’s allowed.”

Dapper stares at Blue. Stares at Chase. Stares at Blue.

“Okay, this is going nowhere,” crabs Blue, taking his hand. “Chase, bring Dok and come with us on the bus. You guys can go for a walk or something while we check in. It’ll be good for Dok to get out and about. We’ll leave Jackie a note. Come on.”

“That works.”

scunneredzombie asked: You are allowed to get help, buddy. Anti is dead. You're free from your room. You can finally get the help you need, it'll all be okay. I know it must be terrifying, but you can finally have your medicine and have therapy and people to help you through it. Repeat to yourself. Anti is dead. Anti can't control you anymore.

They go for a walk and sit on the bus with what little cash Blue was keeping from Jackie, exhausted together, though Dapper is a buzzing ball of nervous energy beside Blue, staring out the window like he doesn’t understand how they’re moving or what they’re moving past. Chase and Dok are behind them, Chase’s eyes fixed on his little brother’s head. Dapper flinches every time someone coughs or shifts or yawns around him. Like everything in the world is waiting to hurt him.

“Look at you, all mussed up,” sighs Blue, licking his thumb and trying to wipe some of the charcoal off his brother’s face. “All that curly hair growing out and all these old cuts and bruises. And so skinny. I should have made sure you ate last night. I just hid from you all. No wonder you ended up freaking out on the porch all night. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Dapper clings to the window, leaning forward to trace a dog passing by. Blue tries to smooth down his hair, stroking across the mess of his locks, scratching at his short beard.

“They’re right, okay?” he murmurs, trying to clean him up, though he knows the lot of them must look like disasters. They are disasters right now. “You control yourself. Just a little sick right now. Anti is gone. He’s gone, Dap. It’s just you and - ”

Dapper whirls on him and grabs his face between his hands, staring at him dead on. Chase’s nervous hand reaches out to grab Dapper’s wrist. Blue waits, frozen.

Dapper draws back again, still looking at him.

“You’re okay,” says Blue softly, because if he loses it on the bus, they’re screwed. “You’re okay.”

“Is it you?” asks Dapper.

“I’m whoever you need me to be right now, Dapper.”

Dapper blinks, apparently considering this. After a second he nods and sinks down in his seat, looking back out the window.

Anonymous asked: Sorry, I haven't been here for a bit - do any of you have phones? Can you contact Jackie? I'm a touch concerned that he could come home to an empty house. Is there a camera there for us to talk to him, at least?

“He did that to me this morning,” grouses Blue. “And he took the only phone. But yes, there are extra cameras at home when he gets back. And maybe he’ll actually have found us somewhere to stay… now that we’ve messed up the porch and eaten most of the food, I don’t think we’re exactly discreet.”

“Is it you?” asks Dapper again, looking back at Blue.

“I don’t know,” answers Blue. “Who do you think I am?”

Dapper shakes his head, blinking. “I’m… not sure. I don’t think we’ve met.”

Blue laughs weakly, smoothing out an extra strand of his hair.

“Weird, I was just thinking that too. Maybe we haven’t met.”

“No?”

“We really don’t know each other at all, huh? When he was still alive, you were just the brother in the basement I was supposed to save. His twin, wrapped around his finger. I think maybe that’s why I’ve been so ticked off. You still remind me of him. It’s all I’ve ever associated you with.”

“Do you want me to be something else?”

“No,” says Blue quickly, squeezing his hand. “No, just yourself. Just healthy and yourself.”

“Is it you?”

“It’s Blue, Dapper.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Okay. We’re friends?”

“We’re siblings. But I’d like to be friends sometime too.”

“You’re being funny with me, Anti,” says Dapper, laying his head on his shoulder. “You always laugh at me when I’m sick.”

Blue lets it go, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“We’re almost to help, JJ.”

scunneredzombie asked: JJ, try to stay calm at the hospital. Strangers will have to touch you to check you out and keep you healthy. Strangers will have to watch over you to make sure you don't hurt yourself/anyone. You'll be perfectly okay and none of them mean you harm. They should be understanding if you lash out, just try your best. I believe in you, all of you!

“Ready?” asks Chase as the hospital comes into view, leaning forward.

“Where are we?” Dapper asks.

“He’s talking now. Maybe we can just go back home?”

“Blue, no,” chides Chase. “Dapper, let’s go get you to a doctor, okay?”

Dapper looks up at Blue in alarm, gripping his hand. “It’s okay,” offers Blue. “Don’t sweat it. People are here to help.”

“This is a test,” signs Dapper uncertainly. “You’re testing me.”

“No.” Blue switches to signing, hoping to avoid as many odd looks as they can. “Dapper, you know that you’re paranoid when you’re off your meds. You know that’s what those thoughts are. No one’s testing you and no one’s trying to hurt you. Some people are going to come help and they’re probably going to touch you and maybe have needles and that sort of thing, but you need to stay calm.”

“You’re going to leave me here, then,” Dapper says, his breath hitching. “You - I did something wrong and you’re going to have me locked up. I don’t even remember, you can’t do this to me.”

“Nobody’s leaving you here.”

Dapper’s shaken, eyes flickering around the bus. Blue takes his arm and pulls him carefully to his feet. “I’m going to stay right with you,” he says clearly. “I’m going to stay right here.”

“You don’t want me to take him?” asks Chase.

“He thinks I’m Anti,” mumbles Blue. “I think that’s the only reason he’s not attacking us or running for his life right now.”

Dapper clings to him in return, shaking. They help him off the bus amid a crowd of people. Dapper cowers against Blue’s chest, scrambling for a knife at his side, but there’s nothing there.

“Why are we out in the open like this?” his hands snap. “You’re just being reckless now.”

“We’re allowed to be out in the open. No one’s coming for us.”

“Make them be quiet, Anti, make them be quiet!” He clutches his ears, knees buckling, and Blue grabs him, keeping him on his feet and hurrying forward with him.

“Dapper,” calls Chase, worried.

“Chase, just take Henrik to the park or something. Keep calm.”

“You stole me and now you’re putting me back,” protests Dapper frantically, his feet scraping against the ground as he tries to pull against Blue’s grip. “Like you said you’d put me in an asylum and I’d never get out.”

“Anti told you that?”

“I know I can’t handle it without you, I know, don’t punish me!”

“Dapper - ”

“I’ll break everything if you’re not around,” he sobs, gripping at Blue’s shirt between signs. “I don’t have any control of myself, of my magic, when you’re not around. You have to keep me in control.”

“Dapper, you can handle this on your own! He just wanted you to believe you were helpless without him, he just - ”

“You’re not even real, why are you still hurting me?” He strikes Blue’s chest, crying in earnest, his face swollen in red. “If I didn’t need you so badly do you know how long ago I would have left?”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t!” shouts Blue, grabbing Dapper’s wrist. “And don’t you dare fucking hit me! You could have run from Anti like I did! I let him take me for the sake of the others, but you! Why did you ever let him keep you like that? Huh?”

“Sir! Hey, do you need help?”

Blue barely hears it. “Why don’t you tell me that, JJ?” he screams, shaking him. “Why didn’t you fight him?”

“You liar,” sobs JJ, pulling away from him, near crumpled in half. “You promised me. You said you would let the others go. I wasn’t enough for you. I hate that Blue got to kill you. I hate that I was such a coward. You took everything from me. I should have killed you slow and painful. I loved you too though. I don’t know what I was holding on to. Maybe if I had been the one to do it you wouldn’t still be here haunting me. You don’t know how much I hate myself. Coward. I should have been the one to do it.”

Blue feels a sob in his throat, his eyes burning. He crashes back into Dapper, grabbing his face and shoving their heads together, meeting his gaze, and his little brother looks back with his tortured eyes, and Blue is sorry for everything he’s been through and everything they’ve lost together.

“He sucks, doesn’t he?” he manages finally.

Jameson sinks against his chest, closing his eyes.

“I hate myself lately too, little brother. We’ll get through it.”

“I’m always going to be dangerous. I can’t control myself without Anti in my head. We’re twins. We can’t survive without each other.”

“Nah,” offers Blue, shaking his head. “No, that’s just more of Anti’s stupid brother system. The cameras were right. It all has to fall apart. We’re going to help you figure out how to stay in control without needing him. Okay?”

JJ stares up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. You must have done it before Anti came to take you. When we were living in the house in the woods. When things were kind. Things will be kind again. We just gotta take some steps.”

Jameson watches the sidewalk, thinking.

“It just starts with this, okay?” says Blue, taking his hand. “With getting some real help.”

“I’m… I’m going to get left here. Stuck again. Stuck.”

“No. We’d never leave you behind.”

“Even if you get mad?”

“Yeah, even if I get mad.”

“Even if I remind you of Anti?”

“Yeah. That’s my shit, not yours. I’ll get past it. Cause I love you.”

Jameson looks up, and for a second, his eyes are clear.

“Oh, silly,” he says, laughing faintly at himself. “Sorry, I just realized it’s you.”

“There you go,” beams Blue, relieved. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.”

“Marvin,” signs JJ fondly, touching his cheek. “Yeah, I see you now.”

[heart-like-a-haunted-house]

The Burden of Caring – Part Two: Exhibition of Forbidden Fruit

*** DUE TO THE INCLUSION AND VARIETY OF MATURE/EXPLICIT/GRAPHIC CONTENT WITHIN MY FANFICTION PIECES, (AS MENTIONED BELOW,) I MUST STRICTLY INSIST THAT YOU ONLY CONTINUE READING IF YOU ARE 18 YEARS OF AGE OR OLDER. MY FICS ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY. THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMPLIANCE. ***  

NOTICE: The following post is a work of fanfiction for The Walking Dead (television show) universe. This piece may include mature and graphic/explicit content of varying categories and intensities (specifics are outlined in the, “Warnings,” section beneath the, “Keep Reading,” cut.) If you do not wish to view such content or are in any way bothered by the possibilities of subject matters mentioned above, I politely request that you not proceed past the, “Keep Reading,” cut. If you DO wish to read this fanfiction piece, please continue as normal. Beyond the cut, you can find all the story details and info, as well as the fic itself. Please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading. And as always, reader discretion is advised and encouraged.

Author: @heart-like-a-haunted-house - (MASTERLIST HERE)

Wanna read/interact with my fanfictional works elsewhere? | My AO3 Fanfiction Collection | My AO3 Profile |

Piece Title: The Burden of Caring.

Chapter/Part/Section: Part Two: Exhibition of Forbidden Fruit | For other chapters, go to: @heart-like-a-haunted-house - (MASTERLIST HERE)

Fandom: The Walking Dead (television show universe), Negan (television show version/JDM’s portrayal), Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

Main Pairing(s)/ Main Character(s): Negan X Character with a physical disability (in this piece, the reader is wheelchair-bound,) Negan X Female reader, Negan X You/”Y/N” (Your Name Here.) Negan X Original Female Character.

Genre: Self-insert/Reader-insert, Multiple chapters/parts/sections, fluff, angst, erotica/smut. 

Chapter Word Count:  Around 6,990 words.

Full Story Synopsis: Negan decides to live up to his title as leader of The Saviors when he finds you at your weakest in the woods. Funny how you were so sure that your life was over until the man with the bat showed up. Now,  Negan wants to make you understand just how good your second chance at life could be if you live it in a little black dress. Like trying to put out a blazing fire with a gallon of gasoline, feigning your disinterest becomes more and more difficult with each passing interaction. But he’s more to you than just the brutal community spearhead with a charming smile. And could it be possible that he sees you as much more than just another conquest?

WARNINGS (for this particular chapter/part): Swearing. Reader’s character struggling with indecision, self-doubt, and insecurity. General “hot and cold” behavior. Talks of romantic and sexual attraction. Large age difference between main characters (***both ARE well above/over legal consenting age, though. Both are over 21 as well***) Negan being possessive, protective, and a bit opportunistic. Negan being intensely and persistently flirtatious. A bit of exhibitionism/voyeurism (overhearing only.) Descriptions of the male body. Descriptions/talks of female arousal, masturbation, and orgasm. Negan showing his softer side. Poking a bit of fun at the “classic romance novel.” Negan reading excerpts from an erotica novel. Talks of performing oral sex on a female, as well as marking during sex. More touches of a sub/DOM dynamic. General sexual overtones and teasing, and Negan just being Negan ;).

Author’s Note: *Peeks around corner* Hey there, guys… Does anyone even remember this fic? Lol! Well, I hope so, because despite the shamefully long wait between parts, I swear to you that I’ve been hard at work on it. This chapter just kept growing and morphing on me whenever I thought it was finished. Now, I can finally rip myself away from editing cycle after editing cycle, and actually offer it to you! I sincerely hope that you enjoy it, and that it was worth the wait! But before I leave you to read, I want to give some backstory on this chapter, as it’s a bit unique. As you’ll see, this part opens about six months after the conclusion of part one. The first sentence of this chapter is the only action of this part that takes place in the active present. The other 99.9 percent of the piece is told in a reminiscent fashion. Think of this part as Y/N catching you up on how her first six months at The Sanctuary have been. I wanted the first half of this to be written in a sort of, “Montage” style. This is why there’s minimal dialogue in the first half. I kinda view it as a collection of snapshots along the timeline of Negan’s and Y/N’s interaction. In the second half of the chapter, the wholly italicized scene is a direct memory of Y/N’s that you get to fully and completely “relive.” And this memory will immediately lead into part three, where we’ll hop back to the active present. I hope that makes sense. But if it doesn’t, or you have any questions at all, don’t hesitate to contact me! Anyway, please let me know if you want more of this plot, and I’ll make it happen! Again, I really hope you enjoy it! If you want to share your thoughts and whatnot with me, I’m all ears and absolutely love feedback! A big thank you to the people who helped me stay encouraged as I wrote/edited this, and all who read the finished product. You guys are all amazing. Thank you for your patience. Now, on with the fic. Happy reading!

Other Notes: This “—–” represents the unseen passing of time, or a scene break  (the amount of time passed in this break can vary.) AND The library is separate from the main building of The Sanctuary, but they are both on the same grounds/within the premises.  

Tag List: [NONE]

You gave your head a little shake in an effort to clear it. You arrived here well over six months ago. But lately, you found yourself swimming in the memories of how this whole situation came to be. It all still felt unbelievable. To be gifted such luck in a world that for so long only dealt blows, it was a wishful mirage for most. In your mind, however, this prosperity came with its own set of pressures. The mounting struggle of self-doubt made you question whether you were worthy of the constant abundance. Everything from the fully furnished room you called home, to the consistently stocked fridge in the attached kitchenette. The luxury stood stark against the ever-present decay beyond the windows and walls. According to compound rules, such things were provided to those with the most important duties. You never felt that your job as librarian, and caregiver to the community’s population of young children, warranted such opulence. It was hard not to feel guilty. You had never been one to take what you didn’t earn. Negan, on the other hand, had immediately insisted upon these amenities in exchange for your offered contribution. He treated it as an open-and-shut case. A decree sealed with his persuasive smile.

Concern about overpayment was not the only guilt you harbored, not the solitary murmur haunting your conscience. It was your attraction to the man who you knew as The Sanctuary’s leader that weighed heaviest on you these days. At first, it was fairly easy to brush these thoughts off as merely mislabeled gratitude for quite literally saving your life. To simply make the excuse that Negan was a veracious flirt, and you were caught off guard by the sudden attention, nothing more.  But, despite honest attempts at unshakable conviction, time carved away at the resistance of your desire. Negan had no qualms about openly basking in the victory of your giggly responses to his comments. He also wasted no time in expressing his longing to be the cause of not just your day to day outward joy, but your more private delights as well.

If there was one thing everyone knew about the leader, it was that he never did anything by halves. And his post-apocalyptic courtship tactics were no exception. He’d playfully comer you in the hallways on your way to work, only granting passage once you’d agree to let him escort you there. You never intended on declining the insistence, but it was still fun to give him a bit of a ribbing. Dramatizing your acceptance with a jokingly exasperated sigh and wry smile, he’d take that as cue to proudly lead the way. This opportunity was seized to probe you with questions. You couldn’t lie, you loved this almost daily occurrence, as time spent with Negan was certainly never boring.

When it came to the intention to remain a focal point of your life, efforts expanded far beyond simple conversation. On countless occasions, he would somehow manage to be there right when you needed a helping hand. Whether it be opening a door, lifting something heavy, or just picking up things you’d accidentally dropped, Negan was sure to appear with his signature grin. The man truly was everywhere. And when he couldn’t be there, he made it his mission to secure someone who could be. You were instructed to seek out Frankie - one of his wives - should you need anything. Seeing as she was another woman, who also never left the premises, you were particularly grateful for the necessary aid this mandatory order brought with it. Simon was even told to keep an eye out, should you any extra assistance.

Negan left no need of yours unattended to. It was something everybody noticed. His care seemed so genuine that it was difficult to disregard the building depth of your own affection.

—–

It didn’t take long for Negan’s offers to become even more alluringly straightforward. His behind-closed-doors propositions, whispered in your ear, left your lids fluttering and your body overtaken by anticipatory goosebumps. These encounters left you tossing and turning night after night, at war with the angel and devil on their respective shoulders. It would be so easy to give in to the lust completely. Thusly letting him fulfill his promise to, in his words, “blow your fuckin’ mind, and make sure you are well fuckin’ taken care of in every way I can provide.”

The hardest part of waving off his words was knowing that he wasn’t just talking himself up. He would deliver. You were confronted with this truth on the many nights you chose to work late. It was a reminder that floated about as soon as you’d roll out from between the elevator’s opened panels. Along with the whining hinges of your door, this was a common greeting you stumbled upon in the evenings, and well into the burnings of midnight oil. One of Negan’s many wives, calling his name as they climaxed at the end the of the adjoining corridor.

He was a man who knew exactly what he was doing. And he wanted to ensure that you knew of his tireless talent as a provider. The position of your apartment was telling evidence in favor of this strong inkling. Yours was the only individual lodging area on the top floor of The Sanctuary. The rest of the sprawling uppermost level was dedicated to an entire wing shared by Negan and the wives. The only thing separating these two places of residence was that infamous, stretched hallway and a set of large, oak double doors. It was his way of enticing you, keeping you as close as possible without lifting a finger. Setting you up just outside his gates, leaving you to be an accidental eavesdropper on his revelry. It was a curated exhibition of forbidden fruit. With the elevator allowing you to make an exit stage left, and Negan’s always open invitation ready to welcome at the right, you called the crossroads of your dilemma home. Yes, it was less an inkling, and more of an obvious fact.

This was all the more confirmed when he decided to come knocking; when yet another passionately loud romp with the wives had finally simmered down into sleepy silence. On par with his usual peacock-esque display, he happily wandered around your room wearing nothing but a pair of loosely fitting sweatpants. They hung from his hips in a way that left hardly any of his delicately sculpted muscle to the imagination. The single layer of navy fabric was all that hid the unabashedly prominent, masculine outline of his lower half.

Determined to keep this an eye contact only endeavor, you firmly affixed your stare heavenward, on his face. This would have been easier to execute if it weren’t for the juxtaposition of his tall stature and your seated eye line. Trying to calm the simmering temperature of your cheeks was impossible. All you could hope for was a dampening effect, reflected in the minimally lit space.

Negan gave a smug apology for keeping you up with all his, “fuckin’ ruckus.” Visibly tickled by the double entendre, a giddy grin crinkled the corners his eyes.

You had rolled your eyes harmlessly, failing to stop your own lips from curving upward in kind. Playing along, you absolved him of the falsified worry. You told him you were probably as worn out as he was, whilst trailing him back to the threshold. Apparently sated by the knowledge that you were indeed overhearing his exploits, he let you show him the door without much protest.

He left on the note of a smoky chuckle and parting, “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

No, you couldn’t lose your resolve. You planned to carry on contributing and showing appreciation via the work you were capable of doing. You weren’t looking reap benefits without paying back into the cycle. You felt you owed Negan that much. After such a rare second chance at life, you felt you owed yourself that much, too. You could surely continue truncating your lingering affections until they were but a flickering remembrance. You could dismiss the deadlocked standoff of your confliction.

You had managed to anchor to this stubborn internal mantra with flimsy petulance. That is, until the aforementioned sweet dreams enveloped your unconscious. The spearhead of The Saviors now held claim over the wanderings of your sleeping mind. His pull was relentless. A dizzyingly hypnotic orbit. When you finally fell into a restless sleep each night, your brain ran wild with the fulfillment of chronically repressed urges. Like clockwork, you’d awaken to the sound of your own dazed voice whimpering his name into the void of a pillow.

The walkie-talkie on your nightstand was the ultimate siren song. Negan had all but demanded that you keep said radio on you at all times, in case you ever required immediate aid with anything. Once again, the firm words left no room for opposition. He also wasn’t the least bit subtle in letting you know that if you needed him specifically, he could be reached privately at any time through the second channel of the walkie.

With an aching core, made slick with wanting, it was torturous to remain grounded while laying there in a dreamy rush. You could make it happen in a matter of minutes. Grab the radio, slam down the button that would connect you to Negan, and beg him for his… Help.  But for countless nights, you managed without, busying fingers beneath the cotton sheet. Vehemently telling yourself that you didn’t need him, the pattern of your digits zeroed in on the begrudging finale. However, these resolute thoughts would continuously break free, drifting to the wish of it being his hands caressing your most delicate skin. That wisp of a fantasy was often all it took to do the temporary trick. It was nowhere near the wanted satisfaction, but it was enough to hamper impulsivity. It gave you the fortitude to roll over, and turn away from temptation.

Without a doubt, Negan did manage to give you the inspiration he’d hoped to.

—–

You gilded over to the library’s Returns cart and back to the newly cleared shelving unit. The low buzz of your wheelchair matched with the rhythmic tapping of Negan’s combat boot on the cement floor. He was in his usual spot. That being the seat closest to wherever your main workspace was for the day. Today, that placed him at a table in the middle of the open concept, bungalow style library. He made the plastic chair look comfortable as he lounged with his other motionless foot balanced atop the opposite bouncing knee. His jacket, gloves, and scarf were in a heap on the table next to him.

Recently, Negan enjoyed using his free time in the mornings to not only oversee your commute, but also shadow you once arrived, if his schedule allotted. He claimed to be there just in case an extra pair of hands was needed. You upheld that your reasoning for letting him stay prior to daily opening was simply based on his executive status, and the minor inclusion of the helping hand being nice in some instances.

As you stole a sideways glance, catching his intrigued stare fixed on you from above an open magazine; it was increasingly solidified that you would never turn down the company. You hastily returned attention to the process of taking books from the stack on your lap and placing them neatly in the bookcase. You were thankful for the activity, seeing as it hid your eyes, kept them from reflecting what was being pushed aside. Despite the cold weather outside, a full body flush mercilessly crept upward.

You were used to having to avert your eyes from Negan on an all too regular basis. But today, your willpower was being put to an especially arduous test. Maybe it was because he managed to look like he belonged in an upscale fashion add, even in casual clothes. Dusty gray jeans, and a black knit sweater that hugged the defined contours of his torso. This was further complimented by the tattoos peeking through pushed up sleeves, and a pair of black, thick-rimmed readers in front of his eyes. You couldn’t help but wish you had a camera to capture the moment. Keeping your eyes on the duties at hand felt like a pitiful waste.

You let out an audible huff of exertion as you put your hand on your knee, forcing yourself back into an upright sitting position after having stooped to place a novel on the bottom shelf.

Negan’s voice broke through the stillness without pause, “Is it okay if I help you with that, doll?” You were surprised by the candor in his words, what you could have sworn was a trace of… Anxiety?

You looked his way again. His expression was overtaken by careful appraisal and tense brows. Something heavy tugged roughly at your heart. You cleared your throat in an attempt to be rid of the pressure.

“Umm, sure. If you’d like to.“ You offered a soft smile to ease him.

“I would very much like to. If you’ll allow me,” he clarified, tension loosening.

Your smile remained welcomingly affirmative, as did the partnered nod. You moved parallel to the case in a gesture of acceptance, “Could you grab some of those for me, please?” You spoke rather tentatively. It felt strange to give Negan direction. But he seemed to have no problem with it as he sprung up and followed your finger to the corner of the room, where books were waiting in towering stacks.

“Told you keeping me around would come in handy. I’m glad you’re finally using me. And this isn’t even my full fuckin’ potential, darlin’,” he threw a sly wink over his shoulder as he walked to the closest pile. His set of jovial dimples resurfaced alongside the statement.

Breathy laughter escaped you as he came back with both arms full. You took books out of his hold two at a time, wanting to relieve him of the burden.  He seemed to settle back into peaceful watching.

You were the one to break the silence this time.

“Negan?” you paused your work for a minute to catch his hooded gaze.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Sincerity burned through you. For all the work he put in to make this corpse-ridden hellscape livable for so many, it was never received with true gratitude. Sure, he was respected by all, and feared by most. But he was never genuinely thanked. Yes, his leadership could run severe, even brutally pragmatic, if it fit the bill. But in the grand scheme of things, his iron fist was never brought down causelessly. There were rules. And admittedly, these rules, these tactics, accumulated supply wealth and general safety unlike anywhere else. Did you agree with his every strategy? No, certainly not. Still though, you also knew that Negan wasn’t just some demonic brute bent on pure violence, either. In this chaos, he was trying to do what most others were afraid to, lead and rebuild. Lack of acknowledgment when it came to the man’s achievements and overall human qualities left you greatly irritated, it had for a while now. And, as you reached out to touch the back of his hand momentarily, you hoped he knew you were thanking him for a lot more than just his support in the current activity.

Uncharacteristically, Negan said nothing, giving only a courteous dip of the chin in response. His molten stare clung to you, backlit by a cocktail of understanding and hushed carnality. Your breath hitched as an effervescent tingle flourished between your legs.

There were a few minutes of quiet again as tomes were placed in their new home, and Negan approached with another group of reads.

“So, have you read all these yet?” he asked, relaxed airiness clear in his tone.

“Nope, not yet,” you sighed wistfully. “I’ve been busy adding them to the collection record and making space for them here. But hopefully I’ll get to them soon. I still can’t believe Simon found that bookstore. He told me it was basically untouched, even after all this time. Talk about a dream come true,” you added, throwing another small smile in his direction.

Equivalent wonderment could be heard in the answering ask, “Have you always been such a bookworm?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you said. Staring at the bookcase distractedly, you shuffled the new inhabitants of the shelves around until they were in accordance with your preferred organizational method. “I’ve always been passionate about books. They made good times great, and created an escape when times got tough. That’s something I believe and appreciate even more these days. That’s why I love working in here. I like being able to help bring that same bit of peace to others, if I can.” You adjusted a row of books, straightening all their spines in one fluid motion.

“Damn, I didn’t know I had such a poet on my hands. You tryin’ to pull at my heartstrings?”

You expected to be lashed with sarcasm and mockery, but on the contrary, his voice held a touch of awe and flirtation instead.

You couldn’t suppress the exuberance that adorned your features, turning your focus back to Negan. “No, just being honest with you. And you might wanna be careful, letting it slip that you have heartstrings to pull,” you shrugged lightheartedly, winking at him for a change.

“Well, will you look at that?” he boomed excitedly, “The studious beauty’s got sass, too! Maybe you’re right. That’ll need to stay squarely between us, then.” His flawless smile stretched from ear to ear. You failed to hide your grin and laughter behind your hand.

“And that fucking beautiful laugh is nothin’ less than the goddamn cherry on top,” he continued, dropping his voice to let the compliment dance around the enclosed space.

You tried to ignore the heatwave that befell you again, biting your lip and redirecting your eyes to the bookshelf.

You heard a barely there snicker from the right. He knew the impact he had on you, just as well as you did. You continued retrieving material from his grasp, putting up a front of being utterly taken with your task.

—–

This streamlined workflow persisted, soon fading into comfortable monotony. Negan bringing you books, and you storing them away. The otherwise stagnant air was decorated with the whistles and humming of the man at your side. He was a pillar of patience, openly unperturbed by what others may classify as mundane. Occasionally, he would break his tune to ask a question regarding a newly shelved piece, or to offer help in reaching an area that forced your body to strain. Time advanced without much other interruption. Before long, the massive case had just a handful of vacant slots, and the final little haul of new arrivals was being delivered to you.

—–

Without taking your eyes off the literary arrangement, you finally moved to grab the last book from Negan’s hands. However, he held it out of reach. Confused, you glanced over to see him leering at the cover.

“What do we have here?” he questioned gleefully. The mischievous glint in his eye was blinding as he revealed the source of his outburst.

The cover of the novel was outlined with bright red roses growing around a stone archway. Directly in the center, the couple clearly set to be the main characters was scandalously posed. The woman was draped in a lavish purple gown, her head tossed back in the throes of intensity. The man’s body was curved over hers, holding her up as he pressed a kiss to the column of her throat. It was the epitome of a laughably cheesy romance cover, complete with a shirtless man and forgettable title.

“Am I correct in saying that this,” he turned the book back towards himself, “is one of those naughty little stories you ladies enjoy, when you’re all nestled in bed at night?” he teased. He bent to speak near your ear, though the two of you were the sole occupants of the building. “The ones y'all save for when you’re alone, and no one can see what you’re doing under those blankets?”

“Actually,” you were determined to stay nonchalant as you swerved around him and came to a stop behind the long table near the double-door entrance, “I’ve always found that genre to be a tad cliché. It starts to feel like once you’ve read one, you’ve read them all. But yes, many people do enjoy that type of fiction. And more power to them. Those stories just aren’t for me, I guess.”  You smiled curtly at Negan as he spun around. Looking up from the check-ins and check-outs log for a fraction of a breath, you then tracked his movements in periphery.

Following your trajectory, Negan began taking steps to your new post. “Ah, I see,” he spoke slowly. “Well Y/N, as they say, you never know until you try. This one might do it for ya’.” He rocked on his heels animatedly.

“Might tickle your fancy,” he sang.  His eyes were suggestive slits. Before you could construct a coherent response, he raised his pointer finger and tapped his temple twice.

“I’ve got an idea! A damn good one, too. “What if,” he delayed with suspensory flare, “I read some to you?” He said this like it was the most life-changing revelation since the discovery of fire. And considering the sparks flitting across your skin at the pitch alone, maybe he wasn’t far off. He was already too riled up by his own genius to wait for your input. “Yeah,” he approved, “I’m a firm believer in the fact that a story is fuckin’ nothin’ without a polished presentation and captivating narration.”

It was clearly too late to put the brakes on this train of thought. But the words of encouragement came tumbling out in a tangle of bemused laughter before you could restrain yourself, "By all means, read away. As a librarian, it’s part of my job to promote the joys of reading, in all forms and mediums.”

Chancing a prolonged look from overtop the shield of a notebook, you saw the smirk on Negan’s lips, his eyebrows wiggling slightly. “So glad you agree with me, doll.” He backed up a couple feet from the desk.

“Now, to find a good part,” he pondered aloud, pacing measured lines. Flipping pages with the usual showmanship, he abruptly stopped once something deemed interesting was found.

He readjusted his spectacles, transferring the book to a one-handed hold. Before beginning, he cleared his throat and smoothed his facial hair. The minute his mouth opened, you were swept away in the provocative words, unable to stop your toes from curling. Okaying this storytelling session had been a mistake. An amazing mistake.

“Ivan held Lillian close to him, eager to feel every inch of her skin on his own.”

Negan glanced up from the text, and when he caught your eyes scanning him, he proceeded.

“The King had for so long wished to have her like this. But until this very night, she had rejected him, pushing her own desire away as well. He hoped for nothing less than the gift of calling her his Queen. He had kept this wishful flame alight within himself since the very first time his unforgiving eyes connected with her compassionate gaze. And now, having finally confessed, and brashly acted on her true feelings, Ivan was going to treat his most radiant Lillian like the breathtaking royalty she would soon be. Though she didn’t need a crown to be a diamond in his eye.”

Negan came to another agonizing halt, inspecting you with laser-like precision. No additional persuasion was needed. You gave in to his unspoken command for your mind and body’s undivided engagement. As much as you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, you were shackled by this little show. When he fell back into the performance, his voice was silk, and filled with intent.

“He explored her body with gentle, but assured hands. Their lips only parted long enough for Lillian to whisper his name to the darkness, desperate and ready. Oh, how the King reveled in his lady’s cries of pleasure. Bodies entwined, he intended on giving her all the love she so rightly deserved, in every way he could. He had yet to enter her, but ever still, a beautifully bare, feminine form flexed wantonly in his grasp. Ivan pinned Lillian to the plush mattress. Leaving her mouth, he trailed kisses down her front, each one a branding on her overheated flesh. He did not stop until he reached the never before touched territory of her ultimate tenderness.”

By the time he concluded the paragraph, the sound of your pen nervously pattering against the wooden table was a metronome throughout the room. You tore your eyes away with violent quickness. You tried to reassemble composure as he closed the yellowing paperback and leisurely made his way back to the counter.

“Ho-ly smokes!” he fanned himself theatrically with the bound bundle of pages, before slapping it down on the tabletop with equal zeal. “Things were gettin’ pretty fuckin’ hot and heavy there just now, wouldn’t you say?” Negan leaned over, put both elbows on the desk, and placed his chin within cupped palms. He had a pleased as punch look about him. You were so close in proximity that you could smell the cinnamon mint on his breath. It took all the self-control you possessed to keep your eyes on the penned details of the depository log. He released a jestful, dreamy sigh to reinforce his commentary.

“Oh, for sure. I could hardly contain myself,” you said, feigning disinterest. It would have been more believable if the hiccup of a giggle hadn’t marred your closing word. You felt the smile of your observer grow evermore cocky.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that. I could tell,” he mirrored your cadence but energized it with his own delighted hubris.

You began sloppily scrawling the titles of newly-shelved literature on date inserts, trying to avoid your slip-up.

Negan started again, stretching over the desk further. “Ya’ know,��� he let his words hang there for a second, “I really like that Ivan fella. Probably because he, like me, knows how to treat a woman. A real gentleman does a lot more than just fuck his lady. He tastes every bit of her. Like he’s been starved without her. A real man makes sure she feels every kiss, every lick, every movement of his mouth. Makes sure she feels like the precious delicacy she is. Hell, that may be my new fuckin’ motto,” he growled. “Treat ‘er like royalty; eat 'er like royalty.”

Your head whipped to latch onto him, wide-eyed. He pushed himself back to standing, self-satisfaction imparted on his very aura, tongue tracing over his bottom lip. Your pen jumped out of your hand and hit the floor with an almost inaudible click.

“Negan, please!” you yipped imploringly. Frantically, you hoped he would cool, so the developing spot of precursory lubrication in your panties would cease its spread. You locked your muscles, berating your body for its flagrant betrayal as well.

He closed his eyes in gratification, swaying from side to side. “Mmmmm,” he let out a ravishingly lascivious groan. “You’ve never said my name like that before,” he noted, tone gone velvet once more. Hazel eyes narrowed with enticing curiosity, “Please what, Y/N?” Tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen. You just gotta say the word.” A challenge of sorts. An opening on all fronts.

You dove deep into the sensual inclination of his statement. It reverberated through you. Thankfully, a tangible answer arose from the impassioned delirium. Not exactly a witty quip, but the best change in topic that your flustered senses could manage on the spot.

“I-I have a lot of, uh, other work to, to do today. B-boring stuff, real-ly. I’m sure you’re needed elsewhere,” you reasoned, stuttering and sputtering slightly. You filled your lungs and then let them decompress, face falling back to its easygoing default. You were glad to be seated, as it made the clench of your thighs less detectable. How much longer could you keep up the façade of not ultimately wanting what he proposed? How much longer could you conceal the yearning to say yes?

Negan looked like he was about to retort, but thought better of it. “Un-fucking-fortunately, you’re right again,” he grunted. “It is about time for me to do my morning rounds of the market level.”

Engaging the joystick control of your wheelchair, you swiveled to confront him as he meandered to your side of the dividing furniture piece, and plucked the fallen pen off the ground.

“Unless of course, you need me to stay,” he contradicted emphatically, handing over the writing utensil, and peering down at you piercingly.

“I think I can handle it from here. But thanks again!” Your words were confident now, but the congenial nature of them was unmistakable. You nudged his leg gently with the edge of your left footrest to get him moving. He eyed your shoe with an upturned mouth before rotating his step in agreement.

“I know you can handle all this. And any other shit, for that matter. I don’t doubt that for a fuckin’ minute, no ma'am,” he promised. Gathering his belongings from where they still lay across the table hosting the now emptied char, a sultry hue shaded his vow. It was gasoline and a lit match in your system. His trust in your ability to take care of yourself was an untouchable compliment. And an unrivaled turn-on.

You escaped from the confines of the banquet-style desk with acute swiftness, beating Negan to the door as you came to a brake beside it. He put his right glove on, shoving the other in the pocket of his jeans before moving to join.

“I’m just reminding you,” he went on, taking the last few steps to the exit and pivoting to look you in the eye, “that should you ever need me for any damn thing, I’ll come fucking running.” His tone had morphed into a strikingly tranquil, yet dominate clarity by the time he arrived at the end of his sentence. He reached down to trace the corner of the walkie-talkie fastened to your belt loop with his gloved finger. His dark orbs slid from his own hand to your eyes, his stare fierce enough to bore a hole through you. “You know that, right?” he pressed, his whole manner a reflection of the same stern placidity.

You gave a fervent nod, “Yes, I do.” Your words were faint and subdued, but secured by grateful serenity. Goosebumps pricked your skin, as they always did when in Negan’s presence. You had to get him out of here before you did something rash. This sincere, protective surge was a reaction you’d never seen so explicitly in him. It was kindling for the fire that ravaged your every nerve.

The solemn shadow cast on Negan vanished. “Good,” he praised, eyes gleaming as bright as his accomplished smile. Without another word, he gently took your chin in his thumb and forefinger, the hide coating them supple. You froze as he bowed inward, and placed a kiss on your forehead. You could distinctly feel the beam of success brimming over his lips as he did so. The minor bristle of scruff was deliciously contrasted by a yieldingly docile mouth. In terms of physical contact, this was the most affectionate exchange the two of you had ever shared. It took all the sobriety you could muster to stifle an enraptured tremor.

He prolonged the stay of his lips on your skin for a fast evaporating heartbeat before adjusting his stance vertical.

Without looking away from your now demure eyes, he grabbed Lucille from where she was docked, with grip at the ready. He swung the lethal lady over his shoulder with ease. His trademark jacket and wine-red scarf hung picturesque together over the other arm.

“Also,” he reprised, foot poised to kick the steel door open from its position ajar. “I do hope that I’ve managed to,” he hesitated as if searching for the perfect word, “inspire you to,” another luxuriously thoughtful interlude and peeking smile, “give that book a shot.” He then let out a breath, parodying seriousness, "Because, as The Sanctuary librarian, you should know the golden rule of never judging a book by its cover.”

You couldn’t reign in the laugh that fell out of you in response to his astute act. The growing reveal of happiness created indents in your cheeks,” I suppose everyone can become a critic if we aren’t careful. You have a very good point.”

Negan careened backward and immediately bounced forward, “Damn right I do!” he said, that burst of his grin making an extended stay.  

“And if you’re not feeling up to reading to yourself, it would be a privilege to read to you some more. Really get that imagination a’ flowin’,” he whispered, an example of his definitively salacious chivalry. He was angled in close to you again, like he was telling you a closely guarded secret.

Before you could brush off the offer, Negan laughed quietly as he forced the door open, attention pointed at the paved courtyard.

He looked back at you, brows knit.

“You cold, doll?” he blurted, changing lanes on a dime. You could swear that same oddly protective undertone manifested in the question. But maybe you just flat out misheard what he said.

“Am I cold?” Confusion was written all over your face.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his head inclined toward the unveiled gray sky and rain that was picking up speed. “It’s colder than The Winter Warlock’s ball sack out there, and it’s not much better in here. There’s no way in hell you’re warm enough in here, so don’t even try to bullshit me.” He spoke evenly, as though the evidence he presented was incontestable.

There was no use in playing it off as untrue. He was spot-on, in fact. The Sanctuary, being a once-abandoned factory, wasn’t always warm and toasty. Especially not on already stormy days such as this.

“I mean, sure, it can get a little breezy in here. But it’s nothing unbearable,” you shrugged and gave a weak smile, still bewildered by where he was going with this. Subconsciously, you fiddled with the sleeves of your pull-over.

He nodded silently as he had earlier, having made an unspoken decision. “You may be okay with being cold, but I’m not okay with you turning to ice in this fuckin’ freezer of a room.”

Leaving no space for you to reiterate that it was nothing to worry about, Negan let the door slam shut and returned to hover above you. With his unencumbered hand, he took you by the shoulder, gingerly guiding your upper body forward.

“Negan, what are you-“

This repositioning allowed him the space to drape his unzipped jacket behind your back. Still employing only one hand, he tucked the coat around your body, and took a step back. Drinking you in, he made no effort to mask the high brought on by the sight of you wearing his clothing. Something that belonged to him alone.

You assessed the worn leather in pure astonishment, examination then shifting to Negan. “You’re letting me borrow your jacket?” you asked, eyebrows rose incredulously. He held his eyes on you for another beat before answering.

“Yup.” The word was enunciated with contentment. A new closed-lip smile played on his face, humored by your disbelief.

“Can I ask why?”

He exhaled, happy with himself, “Like I said before, darlin’, I’m a fuckin’ five-star gentleman.” Again, Negan’s smirk exploded into a full-blown showcase of teeth.

Another inquiry pushed to the front of your overcrowded thoughts. A knot cinched in your abdomen. Lowering your head, you looked up at him through the curtain of your lashes, willing them to obscure the insecurity. The newly blossomed bashful warmth in your cheeks curled around your cautious words. “I appreciate it. But… Won’t your wives be upset if they see me with this?”

The sound that left him was somewhere in the realm of a chortle and a scoff. He spared a passing glance at his feet before refocusing to reply. “You put way too much stock in how they feel about me. Don’t worry so damn much. Shit’s bad for your health. And so is getting fuckin’ frostbite. So, just wear it.” he said, verging on reassurance.

His plummeting reaction made you want to further seek what he meant about his wives, but it also felt impolite to pry. Regardless, reading the sudden hard-set line of his lips and stone plea in the accompanying stare, it would have been a fruitless venture anyway.

Instead, the pitter-patter of rain beating against tin shingles brought another dilemma to the surface. “What if you get cold, though?” You had intended to say this in fun, but true concern accidentally bled through. After all, Negan was only human, too.

“Well, then,” he said, familiar dangerous charm and vigor returned to the forefront. These emotions were amplified with each drum of fingers across the wooden handle of his weaponized companion. “I guess I’ll have to come hunt you down and take it back then, if that’s the case.” His solution was tantalizingly torrid grit. Negan aimed the business end of Lucille at you teasingly, “So, watch your ass, princess. Because I certainly will be,” he warned, the edge of his tongue sliding along his teeth.

You looked away fleetingly to disguise the deepening smolder and bitten-back smirk.

Steeling yourself, you realigned your eyes with the man in front of you. Hints of satire accented your mellow demeanor. The answering remark, however, shot out of you like a bullet.

“Technically speaking, Negan, the only time you see me is when I’m in my chair. So, you can’t even see my ass to watch it. You’re gonna have to get more creative than that,” you said, fighting a bouncy laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t be toeing the line with him like this; you were breaking all your own rules. But you also couldn’t deny the shock of pride that branched through you when seeing his dazzled expression. You felt your personal set of guidelines progressively splinter under the trembling arousal.

The reciprocal chuckles from your audience of one were like plumes of steam, rumbling purrs in the chill. Music to your ears.

“Goddamn” he marveled with a taken aback breath, stomping his foot in exhilaration. “You’re so fiery sometimes. Christ, I fuckin’ love that…”

His irises were nearly glowing with ardor, rendering you helpless in the vice of his visual fixture. The lightning strikes of energy circled him, a vortex. And you wanted so badly to chase the storm, to become one with it in the moment. You were completely enamored with this cyclone of a survivor. That was surely the reason he’d made it this long. Because nothing can wholly extinguish you, if you become the exquisite, impending whirlwind itself.

Negan took off his glasses, hanging them from the small V-neck of his collar. Letting his head fall into a canted position, he looked you over, pearlescent grin folding into an even more promising smirk. He pounced, obliterating the empty space between your bodies in a short stride, and letting Lucille swoop back to the floor. His movements were premeditatively unhurried. He propped his well-armored bat against the side of your chair and let his scarf slip, hands made free to brace himself on the outer edges of your armrests. He held mid-kneel, face to face with you. You were caged in on all sides, but it wasn’t unpleasantly restrictive. You magnetized to him, reminded of the limbo of moths and open flames.

  Your nails bit into the stiff covering of your arm supports as you sat up completely. You could almost feel his sweater bunched in your fists, almost feel the heat of his breath inside your mouth. You were but an inch from him when he changed paths, placing his lips to your ear.

“Oh, I would love to get creative with, and for you, Y/N,” Negan hissed eagerly. “I’ll repeat myself. Third time’s the charm and all that. You just gotta say the word, and I’m here. But if you’re after a more artful, tactile thought of mine, may I say how much I want your fingernails dug into my shoulders, instead of those armrests?” His fingertips grazed your knuckles.

The intoxicating smoke of your inner blaze was thick with this unapologetic bluntness. His brazen suggestions resonated as a lustrous afterimage. Your feminine interior jolted with a singular, supplicating spasm. A ragged inhale escaped your slacken lips reflexively.

Negan gave a throaty, knowing laugh, “What can I fuckin’ say? You inspire all my best ideas.”

He corrected his posture, radiating potency, and overtly thrilled to leave you reeling.

Before you could summon your vocal ability, he had snatched Lucille and the fallen scarf, readying himself to depart once more. He pulled the door open a sliver and looked back at you.

“Keep that jacket warm for me, darlin’. Please,” he said. Giving a final influx of brightness, he disappeared through the door and into the cascading rain. A gust of stinging wind whizzed across your skin, yanking you back to reality. As the door rushed shut, you glimpsed Negan tossing his scarf around his neck, a splash of color in the blusterous gloom. The clink of the door’s closing latch hit your eardrums with a high-pitched ring.

You sat in the now empty library, frustratingly speechless, and unwillingly craving Negan’s return.

[willmarstudios]

Bookworm Will Review 2025 (#3)

Title: 'Bears and Bakeries'

Author: Dylan Drakes

Rating: 3 / 5

Review: (SPOILERS)

I want to thank Dylan Drakes for the opportunity to beta read / review an eARC of the second book in the Sweet and Stocky series.

CW: Alcoholism/Recovery, Graphic Sexual Content

Bears and Bakeries follows a, now, unemployed accountant named Lochlan (or Locky) whose conflicted between using his unemployment time to find another stable job or to pursue his "silly dream" (his words not mine) of opening up a late night bakery.

Locky's roommate, Kai, sets him up to meet with a business planner, Bennedict (later called Benny) who struggles with anxiety, specifically a self projection of his insecurities onto his customers.

The flirtatious tension between the two follows them a good majority of the story giving a 'will they, won't they, SHOULD they' trope. Locky fears failure and has a phobia about spending money due to the over catastrophic feeling that everything will fall apart if he doesn't have a secure safety net. This is instilled in him thanks to growing up in a single and alcoholic parent household, then growing up to follow in his mother's footsteps. Lucky now spends a lot of his free time helping others which Kai and Benny both agree should be reciprocated back onto himself. Meanwhile Benny is terrified of revisiting older clients in fear of seeing any potential failures on behalf of his business advice.

The two have an interesting parallel surrounding their need to do well to and for others while putting themselves last.

It is an ambitious challenge to tackle subjects like alcoholism and I want to give Drakes props for his efforts since this book tackles more serious topics when compared to his first book 'Cubs and Campfires'. I am not in recovery, so I can't speak on the accuracy of this depiction, so I'll end this note with saying that I liked how there was focus on a 'turning point'. We got to witness some of the consequences from Locky's POV regarding his reckless behavior and how reflecting on it, in a nonjudgmental/ridiculing way (from externals I should say, he is pretty hard on himself which I think it normal), made him want to change.

Benny was more of an interesting character story to follow because it was purely internal guilt after one of his clients having to file bankruptcy, so focusing rather on the one negative outcome against (I'm assuming) the positives. So Benny choosing to remove himself once a client has officially had their grand opening, to him, saves him the anxiety of nit picking every piece of guidance he gave them.

The pacing of this 'forbidden' aspect to their business relationship was hit or miss, some section breaks I felt like weren't entirely necessary or could've been condensed to make a more even flow. It read like a hallmark movie with low-ish stakes (recovery and mental health hold different values to everyone) with a pretty decent amount of spice. I can't get enough of big burly men finding love, especially in queer romance, I jump on them whenever I can.

I wasn't a HUGE fan of some of the side characters, Kai felt overly aggressive at times while Locky's co-workers I felt could've been revised just a tad to make sure concepts like Spanglish were used correctly. As well as a specific scene where Benny is described with chestnut skin. We should be past the stylistic choice of describing darker, brown, and BIPOC character's skins with food (thankfully it only happened once).

Overall, I need to adjust my rating for Cubs and Campfires because I enjoyed Bears and Bakeries more. There was more to play around with and witness in this one and I felt it made it a stronger story as a whole.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||Inner demon lustful temptation: part 6||

Hello everyone, time for another part to this small mini series sections of it. This time we go to the next couple but lets see what happens in this one hmm? If you wish to read the chapters are below.

~~~~Chapters~~~~~

First couple: Rex and Kali Part one(NSFW part/part two)

Second couple: Jaron and Melinda Part one((NSFW part/part two))

Third couple: Shdwkyz and Vivi/Sai and Isabella part one

((Your reading part 6 now))

||Drabble summary||

After all that, Sai and Vivi were trapped under each other's own inner demons. The two wanted these snakes to feel real pleasure but it seems they will go about it a different way. How will they get through this? Will she help him? Read to find out.

||Warning||

~Heavy NSFW smut content is present

~Bondage and biting will be present

~Blood will be present

~Suggestive theme is present

||Guests in Drabble||

Shadwkyz along with his inner demon belongs to my amazing Rp partner @demon-blood-youths

Vivi along with her inner demon belongs to me.

((Note: Their will be grammar mistakes and errors in this drabble as others have this warning. But like I state before, this is written for fun. So I hope you like it and my friend too. Enjoy))

It's been a while since it's passed for two hours. Shdwkyz was trying to get out of the shadow binds that hold his arms behind his back but he was looking worried due to seeing something in front of him. Vivi was tied up tight as well, feeling something thrusting into her as her body twitched.

His inner demon was smiling while seeing Vivi trying to break free only to feel more shadow like hands touching and caressing her body. She was hissing annoyed but twitched feeling herself wet and cumming again and in front of Shdwkyz too!

'Heh, good little pet. You came again. Feels good right?' the inner demon purrs but touched Vivi's cheek as she was looking away but Shdwkyz feels Vivi's inner demon kissing and nipping at his neck that she was giggling finding him cute.

'You don't have to be so angry. I won't bite too hard on you sweetie. Just relax. I wanna be sure you feel good..' she whispered but kisses against his neck as Shdwkyz was growling trying to get free but Vivi's inner demon only keeps him trapped while she was smiling.

'I know you are excited about seeing your precious viper like that. All tied up for your own amusement. But..I bet you want to be the one to make her feel good. You say it's not true but it's a lie. Even when your already excited like her..' she lowers a hand down to stroke against his bulge but hearing a hiss from him says otherwise.

"..You-" he winces from the inner demon stroking him but she was leaving more kisses and bites against his neck even if she was hearing her real self gasping out trying to get Shdwkyz's inner demon to stop. However, he only keeps going more and more wanting to make her lose it.

"Haaa st..stop t..this already..e..enough at on..once mmmmm.."she moans throwing her head back as the inner demon was chuckling kissing and biting her chest leaving a mark only to see Shdwkyz glaring. He didn't want anything bad to happen to Vivi but..she was dazed from the pleasure.

'You say stop but your so wet down here. You must like it if your bucking your hips like this..' he teased still fingering her more and more harder that she was already showing a smirk on his lips. However, he looks to Shdwkyz seeing him struggling but he shook feeling inner demon Vivi kissing his chest now while she even lowers his pants to move them. "H..Hey!"

'Shhhhh just relax I said. You'll love this...' she said but was stroking him now as she feels how hot and hard he was. Even if Vivi was wet and tight both snakes were gasping or struggling in the binds. They tried to stop the other inner demon from making their bodies feel weird but Shdwkyz was panting while Vivi was shaking with weak hisses.

This shouldn't be happening even if it's like this! However, their bodies were weak and getting hotter and hotter that Vivi was closing her eyes panting while Shdwkyz was trying to get free as he bucks his hips.

'See? It feels good right? Your already bucking against my hand..' she teased to see the tip wet as she licks against it, hearing Shdwkyz grunt from the feeling.

'True. Even with her, these cute breasts of hers are so soft. The nipples are hard too. Ohhh and she's soaking wet too. So wet and tight..she'll feel so good if you thrust something in here..' the other said pinching Vivi's nipples as she twitched from the feeling, his other hand having fingers thrusting into Vivi as she gasps moaning a bit loud. 'We know you both are enjoying the desires of the other but...I bet you want to feel this with each other don't you?' he teased but Shdwkyz and Vivi look at the other's inner demon but winces feeling Vivi's inner demon sucking him off hard while Shdwlyz's inner demon was sucking her breasts and fingering her.

"St..stop t..this aahhhh stop it r..right now.." Vivi warns.

"Yeah. l..Let us go.." Shdwkzy warns but both snakes moan out only feeling the other doing it worse. They wouldn't stop and just went stronger Making Shdwkyz drool slightly from the feeling and Vivi moaning out arching her back.

Both were feeling flushed red, their bodies burning only to get more and more aroused that it leaves Vivi arching her back and Shdwkyz hissing trying to get away. However, their bodies were burning all of a sudden as Shdwkyz groans out feeling close and Vivi moaning dripping wet.

'Come on, don't hold it back...just let it go.' Inner demon Shdwkyz said in her ear quickening his fingers harder.

'He's right. Let it out..it's fine..you both feel good so let it out..' inner demon Vivi said in his ear still pumping his cock faster. Vivi and Shdwkyz screams out loudly from the feeling but they tried to hold back from cumming but it was too strong.

"N..No way, I can't..I can't h..hold it much longer.." Vivi moans looking dazed.

"I..I can't..damn It I'm gonna.."

Shdwkyz and Vivi kept shaking trying to ignore the feeling of pleasure but as the inner demons smile, Vivi and Shdwkyz scream out before cumming hard. His cum coming out in strings to hit Vivi's stomach and cheek while she was cumming knowing some hit his cock and thighs. Both were panting heavily to relax on the bed but the inner demons chuckled.

'See? Feels good right. You both came so much and we were just teasing you. Maybe you want the real feeling?' He looks to Vivi and strokes her breasts hearing her yelp but Shdwkyz sees her squirming again but was feeling heated now. Her own lingering aura was strong but something else was happening. A floral scent was coming from her but he only remains silent.

'You seem to have gotten dazed, Shdwkyz. Why not go and claim what's rightfully yours hmm?' he heard her inner demon say but he tries to fight it while hearing Vivi's weak breathing. However, she was shaking when the inner demon was opening her up showing how aroused she was but winces when he was rubbing against it.

"Ahhh st...stooopppppp d..don't r..rub t..there..." she moans shaking now but Shdwkyz was shaking now even if he was holding his sanity feeling the inner demon touching him. She was purring against his neck but she even giggled.

'Still holding on aren't you? OH well, I guess we can help you then..if your not going to be good....then we can speed this up.' Shdwkyz blinks to look.

"What the hell are you-Nugh!" Seconds later, he felt a sharp bite but the inner demon was giving him something that he suddenly feels her let go. She bit him! He winces to glare but as the inner demon Vivi licked her viper fangs, Shdwkyz tenses when his body was hot but lowers down groaning out. Something was hot in him but he saw his own inner demon do the same that he sees her whining out.

She was bitten too but it leaves the two heated now that Shdwkyz was trying to ignore the feeling even if he was hard again. The inner demons smiled but slowly looks to them.

'There. So.....what are you going to do now, Shdwkyz?' she said as she waves her hand to have the binds on him release his wrists. As he was let go, he quickly goes to help Vivi but he sees her panting out drooling only whimpering in need of relief.

"V..Vivi? Hey, are you..." he panted himself even if she was sweating and trying to think but he only sees her reaching up to him only to almost kiss him. Her lips were so close to his own lips that he kisses her back as they held onto one another that the inner demons were smiling. They were seeing the two making out but it made them smile.

'Finally..seems he will prove enough won't he? He better make sure it sticks..' he said holding the other VIvi.

'I'm sure it will....but let them have fun..' she purrs as the inner demons slowly disappear to wonder how this goes.

Later that night, Shdwkyz was slamming his hips forward that Vivi was crying out taking in each thrust that she was twitching. It felt good and it only made her moan. Shdwkyz didn't know why but feeling her tighter and hotter inside made him groan clawing her back as Vivi cries out.

"W..wait, t..too fast!! T..too ahhhhh f...fastttttt mmmmm!!" she twitched feeling herself tightening up but he only claws his back to still slamming his hips forward.

He keeps going faster and harder suddenly that she cries out feeling him going rougher now till he was drooling to slam his hips. She cries out even worse feeling some wetness running down her thighs only to feel Shdwkyz quickly snapping his hips to feel himself cumming. He panted heavily but lowers down to kiss her neck but Vivi was shaking to yelp. Something sharp was poking her shoulder that Shdwkyz was shaking.

"Haaaaa...haaaa..."

"B..bite..m..me..g..go ahead..m..make me yours..d..do it..Please make me....Nuggh!" she tires to speak but feels him sink his teeth into her skin, drawing blood. She shivers tightening around him as Shdwkyz growls still holding her before starting his hips again. He heard her moan again but he quickens his hips still holding her still.

However, he keeps going harder and harder only to feel her cry out louder that she was feeling herself tightening around him even more. Both the snakes were lost in heat but he keeps going to mark and tease her no matter what.

[cumplanecrash]

Image ID: a Novelist screencap of some section titles in the Shizun Babies AU. The sections are:

Shen Jiu on surprise Qi-ge! In the bamboo house [two white square emojis]

Shen Jiu: mu shidi arrives [two white square emojis]

Sy: YQY bullies lbh (real) [one white circle emoji]

Sy: go the fuck to sleep challenge (failed) [four white circle emojis]

SJ: midnight whispers [one half moon emoji and two white circle emojis]

End ID.

so to try and explain what happened. and i DO realize this is my own silly lil brain I'm actually mad at for the record.

So this app doesn't have a clean way to like, track posting progress, or at least not in Easy Mode, so I've been using emojis: a checkmark [✅] means the post has been posted or at least scheduled, a white square/blank checkbox [⬜] means that it's been tidied up. I don't have a beta, posting on tumblr is kind of like a public beta for me rn because I haven't done fandom in an active way in literally 15 years and have no one to ask, but I've at least removed the jokes that don't land and checked the grammar and such. A white circle [⚪] then means a part that has been written but is not ready to post, I tend to do these in batches. That half moon [🌓] is being used in place of a partial circle, i.e. a scene that needs more written at the front, since it's the left half that's dark. the number of emojis indicates the number of posts i anticipate getting out of the section, based on where I was able to find clean divides. I think less than 1000 words, like closer to 500 words, makes for a good tumblr post. Not too long, not too short, a nice fifteen minute read perhaps. (ignore that everyone reads at different speeds for me.)

last night I finished cleaning up what I already had written, deciding that the rest of the ideas that spawned from my lil idea gathering/second guessing post made more sense when MQF had a chance to consult his notes and scream "what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck" at his poor plants off screen, which meant I was basically caught up to myself for this au. This is the most writing i've done at once in years btw, life's been a struggle.

so this morning I decided to start writing for like. an hour at work, because I get there half an hour before we open to turn stuff on and Saturdays are usually a later start for people since it's a day off. So I wrote the SJ pov scene (the one with the half moon emoji), scheduled today's update, and went to bridge between where I had left off last time I wrote and where I started this morning.

everything between the last white square and that half moon was mean to be a 200ish word bridge. 5 posts worth of material. Actually, that's not even counting the two scenes I started writing and had to move to later in the fic, that I stopped writing mid word because they deserved more gravitas and also this was supposed to be a quick 1 hour writing challenge. (it was NOT. I didn't get shit done at work, killed my tablet's battery, recharged it when I got home, and kept writing. Love the productivity, hate the lack of self control. at least it was slow as balls today)

I still need a damn bridge btw

SJ and SY have a pillow fort in the middle bamboo house now. that's fun.

there's a lot of headcanons of mine mixed in there, some good interactions between SJ and SY which is great because I want characters not in the know at the end of the fic to genuinely wonder if SQQ is fucking his brother (maybe another fic but no pseudo incest in this one, sorry, they are currently four), but like. IDK if I can actually, like, use any of this? There's some heavy shit in there, ngl, which is interesting but throwing off my Cute Shit Ratio.

The scene where YQY "bullies" LBH is gold though. Shen Jiu is my favorite character to write, I love letting him let loose and be a bit silly, lol. definitely worth.

Shen Yuan, shut the fuck up, I'm at work 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[anlian-aishang]

Kinktober Day 3: Professor Ackerman

“pls do a second part with professor ackerman!!!!! smut if u can/wanna :0”

Word count: 1900

Tags: levi x reader, smut, masturbation, sex dream, slight bondage, power dynamics (student!reader crushes on professor!ackerman, feeling unrequited), modern AU, gn!reader

Crushing on Professor Ackerman? Read more here.

Journal deadlines overdue. Department meeting upcoming. Talks at campuses across the country. Faculty life had Professor Ackerman stressed, stressed past the point of reason. For certainly, if he was still capable of reason, he would not have done what he did.

His goal for tonight was to finish grading his class’s midterms. Calculus 1, it should not have been that hard. If he could just check that one task off of his to-do list, it would make his life feel a whole lot easier. Unfortunately for him, his physiology had other plans. If Levi was going to try to tackle his itinerary, the universe would just find a way to lengthen it. 

Lengthen it. Literally. Levi rolled his eyes at the thought. Inhibitions lowered as other parts of him rose. A tiny old office, cramped space, flooded with obligations, his circumstances were anything but attractive. Why was he getting hard right now? The answer lay in complement: he had not gotten off since the onset of this chaos, which, come to think of it, was nearing a month now.

Faced with the facts, Levi mindlessly marked the multiple choice sections, the math professor’s real focus on calculations of his own. Would it be better to work nonstop at a less efficient pace? Or would it be better to take a break, unwind a bit, and come back faster than before? That said, there was also the toss-up of his refractory period: would he be struck with a new burst of energy or wind down and tire out afterwards?

Given the increasing tautness of his pants, it was getting harder and harder to tell. Harder and harder not to give in. The floor’s silence turned deafening. Autumn-night darkness blinding. The lock on his office door shined in reflection of the moon and its stars. All of his surroundings made him think back to the philosophy class from his own time in college: If a tree falls in the woods… If a professor masturbates in his office…

On that train of thought, he recognized: the battle was over. Levi cursed to himself, defeated, “Fuck me.” Hands slapped atop his desk and pushed himself up from his seat. Fists bunched at his sides, he made it to his door in one deliberate stride. Levi turned the lock shut and turned on his heel. Flopping back on his chair, unbuckling his belt on the way down. 

It had been too long, and at the first stroke, that became overwhelmingly clear. Fingers trembled on the initial climb up his shaft, out of practice, nerves stinging with stimulation. Precum surfaced and spilled onto his slacks, faster than he could push them down his shins. Clear turned to white, sure to stain, silver eyes snuck a glance and swore at the sight, “Sh’Shit…”

Not just the stain, but the self-waged war he was quickly losing. Wrists found their innate rhythm, and with that instinct came more animalistic adrenaline. His heart was racing, breaths correspondingly light. Chest caved in to match the curve of his abdomen, his washboard muscles rippling as his blood rushed down. Conventionally, after so long abstained, one would have wanted to prolong their pleasure, but for Professor Ackerman, this was merely a stint of humiliation he was happy to have over with.

In this occupation, it could be hard not to have one’s ego heightened. Constantly the smartest in any room however massive. Hundreds of eager hands hurriedly taking notes on every word he said. A line out the door for one-on-one time. Levi watched so many of his fellow faculty float around like they were royalty, but he had largely avoided such arrogance, especially at times like these. Jerking himself in his office because his schedule had gotten the better of him, the doctorate struggled to think of anything more pathetic. 

Reduced to nothingness by his own self. Despite his gasps and twitches, his muscles continued to work himself without mercy. Forearm outlined as he squeezed himself tighter. Bicep curled as he found the right angle. Knuckles tugged at his tie, loosening. Shaking fingers undid his top buttons, letting him breathe just enough. Palm pressed down his front, cupping himself below as his other hand worked the length above.

Neck veins shadowed, tendons raised. Jaw clenched, he grit his teeth. His throat tightened up, shameless sounds threatening to escape - some succeeding in their endeavor. Levi cursed under his breath, certain that if anyone was here, they would hear - but also certain that he could not stop himself at this point.

Levi continued his pumps even as he flinched and screamed. Eyes darted in a frantic search for something to support him through the sensation. Telltale pulsations at his middle, an uncontrollable rock of his hips. Movements so acute, they almost hurt, making his pursuit of pleasure that much more desirable. Tension of such build-up would not only release, it would explode, placing the clean freak in an awkward arrangement of both anticipation and anxiety. As his left hand reached its maximum speed, his right hand drifted atop his desk, feeling for the tissue box to catch his mess with. In that way, he came up short, even as his climax lasted incredibly long. Wave after wave, not even the math professor could keep count. 

With each rise, tidal, and crash, his fingers clenched around whatever they could find. If not for his deafening cries, maybe he would have heard the distinct crinkle of paper. If not for the overpowering feeling, maybe he would have felt the thickness of the packets he was grabbing. If he could have managed past the overstimulated squint, maybe he would have seen your name on that sheet and realized: in the midst of his orgasm, he had clutched and crumpled your exam. However, with the pleasure he felt and the high he rode, in that moment, he did not care.

Coming to, in a cold sweat, Levi’s first thought was recognition - how lucky he was to have his reckless actions go undetected - besides the shame that he himself would live with. Finals were only two weeks away, which made tonight one of his last office hours for the semester. He should have seen someone there - looking at the test in his hands, he cupped his forehead and realized - most likely you. But that was a problem for his future self. For now, leaning back in his chair and exhaling, he could only be thankful that no students were outside his door.

Instead, the one most likely to come was having an occasion of their own. 

// // //

Sorry about your test.

I’ll help you forget about the grade.

Lie back, relax, baby. 

I’ll make it all better. 

That was what he would say to you. 

Before he fucked you stupid.

Even in its sleep, your mind could paint such a vivid picture. The way his rolled-up sleeve would sweep his desk clean, just to bend you over it. His leather belt would wrap tight around your wrists, perfectly to the notch, as if he had been fantasizing and planning it since the first day he met you. His pencil cup would rattle, his desktop would light up, his low voice would moan your name with each deep fuck he gave. 

You would never admit it, but this was not the first time Professor Ackerman had made an appearance in your dreams - both awake and asleep. You could not figure out if it was a blessing or a curse to have ended up in his lecture. All of your friends expressed envy for having a class with the hottest instructor on campus, but if only they knew the side effects of it. In class, your eyes would wander off the blackboard and onto the man standing before it. From his perspective, he probably thought you were really interested in the subject material, but in actuality, you were interested in things even less relevant than math. His handwriting: so fast, but so satisfying to look at. Just like his outfits: button shirt with complementing slacks. Glasses, belt, briefcase, and Oxford shoes all of the same matching shade. Such fascination with his details made it hard to learn what he was teaching, and therefore, you often wondered: was this a chicken or the egg sorta thing? Did you go to his office hours because you had not paid attention in class, or did going to his office hours make you even more head-over-heels and thus more prone to distractions? Either way and as a result, math was simultaneously your worst subject, yet the one you attended the most office hours for. In psych 101, you had learned that dreams were inspired based on what you had thought about during the day. Professor Ackerman constantly on your mind meant your dreams repeatedly led you into his arms.

If that dream had been your reality, you would have woken up beside him - snuggled up and spooning on the sofa in his office. As the sun rose over the hill, he would have snuck you into the faculty lounge and made you a cup of coffee before taking you off campus to his favorite breakfast cafe. However, last night’s escapades were just that - an escape. You woke up to a much more humble sight, to an empty half of your twin bed, sheets crinkled by fists you had balled in midnight climax. With one last breathless sigh off of the cusp of your sex dream, you slung your legs over the side and tugged on your Friday sweatsuit - ready to trudge through the weather and meet him in the lecture hall instead.

// // //

It was the last class before the final. Both of you recognized there were far more students here than the average day. Still not as many as the first day, though, before Ackerman’s intimidating vocabulary and crass tone had scared a sizable fraction away.

His voice was much weaker today, you chalked it up to the winter cold that had been spreading throughout campus. Each clear of his throat garnered concerned looks from his pupils, even more so when he approached them one by one and handed back their latest midterms. Shoulders rolling, neck cracking, his body language begged them to look away. With each step he climbed up and up throughout the lecture hall, his muscles chastised him for last night’s excursion: Couldn’t you have waited just one more day? What a sorry specimen.

But that hazing was nothing compared to the moment he made it to you. 

The doe-eyed one, the one so soft-spoken, the one who always maintained their mannerisms in his office hours - saying please and thank you every tutoring session - no matter how blunt or terse he had been during it. You - of course - it had to be you, whose test he had crumpled in a heat-of-the-moment back-breaking climax. 

As he placed the wrinkled packet in your hands, his lips parted in a stammer, struggling to come up with any possible excuse. Ultimately, he failed to summon anything, knowing you were too smart to believe any bullshit he had in mind. The most he could offer was a collateral apology. 

“Sorry about your test.”

Those four words lit a flashbulb in your mind, rekindling the flame you had put out just last night. Even if not for the contextual callback, that crinkle looked awfully familiar. In fact, you had seen it this very morning. The five divots at the top - the fingerprints. The peaks just beneath them - the knuckles. The hole at the middle - the palm. There was no doubt in your mind, albeit keen to fantasize, the nature of this handprint. 

No doubt about the nature of the handprint, but the backstory to it - how powerful his climax was, the sounds he made during it, what led him to grabbing your test in particular - you could only imagine.

// Kinktober Year 3 Masterlist //

[definitely-not-watson]

What I really love about Sherlock Holmes Chapter One is that this game does not hold your hand through nearly, if not, everything that you encounter. Cases, evidence, deciding which conclusion to go with, since each chapter allows you to make your own decision, hinging on consequences that you may have to bear with for the entirety of the game.

So not only do you truly have to feel like a fool sometimes when you don't have a direction (which would probably be the case for me if I were a detective, because I'm just that terrible) but you're also dealing with Mr. Drama King in the back of your head.

Yes I'm talking about Jon. I've (to the best of my ability) grabbed snippets from his journal of his personal thoughts about you when you so much as do something this little potato doesn't approve of.

Though let's be real, a few of the reactions he gives are mostly just him complaining about his impatience with you. I'm going to leave all this under the cut so that it's not some HUGE text that blocks everything on your dash:

First of all, I'm not that smart when it comes to finding certain articles, at least not in every case (I will say I think the main story paper digging feels a lot more generous than the DLC ones, my word I felt stupid sometimes). You take two seconds to flip to another police document or news article and Jon pretty much moans behind you like "Hurry up I feel like I'm aging" and it's like "I don't see you helping honey, PLEASE."

Yes I'm struggling in archives because I accidentally looked up the wrong thing. Now he's just being a little brat. He acts as though you dragged him to the grocery store like he was your youngest kid and makes him walk on the side of the cart always. And no he can't get a toy from the toy section and he's going to pout about it. The best thing is leaving the screen to retrace your steps or figure out what you missed and all you see is this 👎and it's like would you calm down, I'm doing my best!

He's also super sarcastic. Since Jon is a portion of Sherlock's own personality that seeps through, mostly the playful and self-loving sort of aspects, his humor is also as dry as his, which is probably why they're able to run each other into annoying circles without actually pissing each other off. You never win and you never lose when you argue with yourself do you?

I dunno which I prefer more: Jon's incredibly witty and improvised liners out in the free world where you can roam and he occasionally makes his presence, or his down-right back handed comments in his personal notes.

Though don't get me wrong, I understand when things don't mesh well with someone that you know better than anyone else could ever know someone and things don't add up or something happens.

My weakest points when it comes to figuring out the cases was definitely the recreation process. I feel like this is where the two kind of combine heads. This is where they're seemingly more in tune with one another. I really enjoyed having Jon be the one to piece together what happened, as though they were walking through it together without saying a word. Finishing each other's sentences with each point that was connected.

Making mistakes you couldn't pin-point precisely, and then when you finally get it you either feel accomplished or a little defeated because it's like "Okay well you knew that you just had a few steps to get there" and Jon's in the corner being like "We're supposed to be a team y'know" and it's like I know, I just suck at being a detective.

Jon's reactions to what you do in the cases almost each and every step of the way is what sold his personality for me. He's rounded enough to have himself as a separate entity to Sherlock, with his own opinions and thoughts and sense of morality. He's a fantasy nerd for goodness sake, drinks and smokes a lot more than Sherlock probably ever implies, and is never afraid to speak on the sensual things (I'm talking about Sherlock's unmentionables comment as well as the painting in the caravanserai)

Which means he's very capable of calling Sherlock out when he does something wrong. A healthy relationship with anyone you assign yourself to isn't immune to having arguments or disagreements. Much less, you're allowed to tell someone you utterly made a mistake.

Both of them have a sense of mortality and a sense of justice. When someone is wrongfully accused or being blackmailed, or even shot down, that's a red flag in their books. The only reason I'm calling him dramatic in this sense with these images is because I had been nearly a full clear on two separate bandit lair occasions, and scuffed the very last one at the last possible second and left the dude a corpse on the floor. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.

Though however, the consequences of your actions that give you Jon's comments do in fact alter the image of his visage when you open his notes. If you've done this type of accident enough, it makes sense. Sherlock does not act this way, this is not Sherlock, what the hell is going on? Jon would have no ability to step in and take away the automatic to defend people. It's immoral, and the two of them don't need to stoop to a lower ground to gain justice for something else.

You're a detective, you do not get a say in who stays above ground and who goes, that's not your prerogative. And that's why I love reading these notes. A lot of them are not mentioned here because 1) they're mostly positive because more often than not I had some sense of understanding of what I needed to do, and 2) they're repeated in certain situations. Though I'm very tempted to have a playthrough of where I get more negativity in Jon's responses to see if there are any other quotes that I've not seen before.

There were already at least 30 pages worth of comments - but I really love his little doodles. This game lets you mess up, it's not going to reach forward and say "this is what you need to do" there's no hint whatsoever. You're bound to make these mistakes, and it's the comments given that makes you feel like you're truly a part of the action and story you're walking through.

You're not alone when you travel here, and what you do is painting a certain image of yourself to someone that cares about you. This is your story, and you're free to make these mistakes, you're free to take the information you learn, dissect it and learn what happened - but in the end, it's you that makes the ending decision. There is no one correct answer, but there are many consequences.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

could you do the “reaction to first time being shown affection” but with the new vegas/fo3 male companions as well?

Romanced! Male! FO3 Companions and the first time they’re shown soft forms of Affection

Here is some more fluff for all of you lovlies! Man, I love doing these sweet prompts so dang much 😅  Seriously, if there’s ANY characters you want to see for this that I haven’t done, please please please don’t hesitate to ask, cuz these reactions are just good for my soul (... or Sole, eh? Get it?).

Fallout New Vegas (M! Companions) reactions are also on the way for this prompt as well, and should be done soon! 

Butch:

     Lone's eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of the darkened vault 101 bedroom as they stretched their legs from beneath the thin blanket with a small sigh. A blush spread to their face as they felt their partner stir beside them, repositioning himself onto his back, an arm thrown up over his head as a deep breath escaped his lips. They turned to get a better look at him, smiling slightly at how peaceful he looked. Eyes still closed, mouth dangling open slightly, hair tousled about every which way upon his head as it crushed into the pillow behind him. Lone just stared at him for a while,  their heart beating insistently in their chest as they thought back on the events of their first night together… them and Butch… who would've thought? 

They would have liked to pin it on the way he's changed over the years they've known him, because certainly ten-year-old Lone would have scrunched up their face in disgust at the idea of having a crush on the self-absorbed bully. But… truth is, Lone's always suspected that their feelings towards the fellow vault dweller had been more… complicated than simple hatred, or simple attraction. No, these feelings seemed to go deeper than that, even before, when they were kids and he would get on their nerves constantly, or in school when they were teens who frequently argued with each other, they knew there was something more at play between the pair, though they never would have admitted it at the time. Now though, they couldn't believe they had ever seen him any differently as they gazed tenderly at their partner through half-lidded eyes, filled to the brim with affection for the man that lay beside them.

Lone tentatively reached up a hand, not wanting to wake him, but needing to touch him. They brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, running their palm over the top of his head and smoothing down any stray strands that stuck out. Pausing their movements briefly, Lone brought themselves into a sitting position, keeping their side of the blankets up to cover their bare body as they scooted closer to him and reached their hands out towards his head again. Though his hair wasn't all that long, they rarely had the privilege of seeing it void of product, which often made it difficult to play with. Lone decided to take advantage of this instance. They took three separate strands between their fingers, crossing them over each other a few times before twisting the end, willing the little braid to hold its shape before moving to another section and doing the same. A smile spread on their lips as they carried on with their little movements, leaving a handful of tiny braids in the wake of their gentle hands as they continued listening to him snore softly below them. 

As they grew less fond of the braided look, Lone smoothed each one out and began to thread their fingers upwards, giggling at their work as the entirety of his fawn-colored hair stood straight up over his slackened expression. Now if only I had dad's camera…

Their ability to stifle their laughter weakened, preventing them from suppressing the snort that escaped from them; the sound effectively jolting their companion awake.

"What the…?" He shook his head, attempting to expel his grogginess as he realized what had woken him.

"Why are you...? Wait, what happened? You laughin' at me?"

Lone nodded as another snort escaped them, Butch's confused expression now acting as the source of their second bout of giggling.

"Why? What happened?" He looked down quickly, trying to conceal any bare part of him that peeked through the thin Vault-Tec issued blanket. A panicked flush creeping up his cheeks as he tried to find the source of their amusement.

"No, no, it's nothing like that." They assured him, grabbing at his face with their hands to bring his attention back to their eyes, "Here."

Lone made a motion upwards, to try and smooth his hair down to a reasonable height, but Butch's own fingers followed, brushing the substantial mountain of silky locks that stood at attention atop his head before they could fix what they'd done. His eyes widened as he realized what Lone had been laughing at, shaking his head in an attempt to loosen the upright strands.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do ya?"

Lone smiled at him, shrugging as they prepared to answer him with some smart-ass remark, but he was upon them before they could utter a word. Their partner tackled them, pressing his lips to theirs as he forced them downwards against the mattress where he pinned their arms up over their head. When he had firmly secured their wrists in his grip, he released them from the kiss, now staring down at them smugly, a glint of triumph playing in his stormy blue eyes. Lone's heart beat raggedly in their chest as they breathlessly gazed up at their lover as he held them down. Though, to their surprise, he pulled further away from them and released his grip on their wrists, quickly bringing his hands down to their sensitive sides. He pinched his fingers slightly as he ran them over their ribcage, causing them to erupt into a fit of unbridled laughter, writhing underneath his cruel ministrations as he grinned wildly at them.

“How’s that for funny, huh, wise guy?”

Charon:

     “Tell me something.” Lone stared up at the stars as they spoke, Charon’s stiff shoulder brushing their own as he lay beside them at the top of the parking structure, his shotgun still lying across his chest, held firmly in his grasp.

“What?” His gruff voice inquired. Lone couldn’t tell if he was being short with them because he was still unsure about spending the night at the top of the ruined concrete parking structure, or if it was because he genuinely didn’t understand their request, either way, they didn’t mind clarifying.

“Just, tell me something about yourself. You already know almost everything about me, and we’ve been together a few months now, and yet…” They trailed off, trying in vain to coax a proper response from their companion.

“What would you like to know?” Lone sighed softly, but smiled in spite of themself, shifting onto their side so they could look over at him. The ghoul was laying rigidly on his back, his eyes remained trained on the sky, as they had been since Lone suggested he quit keeping watch and just relax with them as they stargazed. Well, he stopped keeping watch, but I don’t think he ever got to the ‘relax’ part.

“Well… what do you want me to know about you?” They asked him, attempting to draw an answer from him without using a direct order. Ever since the two had become involved, Lone had felt uncomfortable with the idea of holding Charon's contract. Well, truth be told, they had always hated the idea of him being forced to obey their every whim and order because they held some torturous piece of paper, but now it felt especially immoral.

Silence fell over the pair as Charon struggled with Lone’s request, half of him wanting to abide by what they said and begin the process of opening up to the person he felt closest with, while the other half grappled with the phrasing of their question. The shadow of his officially void contract rendered his own preferences obsolete as the years of habit continued to keep him chained to the false comfort of his own complacency. He was never allowed to want before.

Lone gazed at him, noting the hard expression adorning his scarred face as the internal conflict raged between his temples. Charon’s pale blue eyes became obstructed as his brow furrowed, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth in an effort to force his mouth to produce any words that could possibly provide an answer to Lone’s question.

The ghoul’s body shuddered as Lone extended their hand, sliding it over his chest before it came to rest atop one of his. They flexed their fingers, a suggestion to loosen his grip on the barrel of his shotgun, but he refused to budge. They kept the contact with him for a moment more, but as he showed no sign of yielding to their touch, they pulled away, rolling over onto their back once more.

Well, it was worth a try. Lone closed their eyes as their fatigue washed over them, remaining on the verge of consciousness as they awaited any response from their partner.

Instead of words, they felt a soft brush against their hand, and Lone peeked one eye open to witness the ghoul’s action as he pressed on, drawing his larger hand to rest over their own. Though the action was miniscule, Lone felt their breath catch in their throat as Charon slid his thumb over their skin soothingly. They hummed as a small grin graced their lips, shifting in his grasp so that they could entwine their fingers with his.

Lone’s expression dampened as they felt him pull away slightly, believing that perhaps they’d pushed their companion too far with their… official hand holding; but they were surprised as they felt his nails meet their wrist. He smoothed his fingertips up their arm slightly, before doubling back, capturing their hand fully in his own again. At that, Lone resumed their own comforting movements along his roughened skin. The ebb and flow of the pairs’ dancing hands seemed to coax something out of Charon, a sort of tenderness that Lone was otherwise unfamiliar with.

“I want… ” He started, and Lone held their breath, but continued running their fingers over his hand encouragingly.

“To tell you… it is no longer the contract that is binding me to you.” His movement against Lone ceased in his effort to continue speaking.

"At first, I did not think I would ever be able to separate myself from it. But now… the paper is obsolete. I'm loyal to you. I want you to know that."

Lone's heart leapt in their chest, as they felt tears of relief fill to the brims of their eyes. They couldn't say how long they'd been hoping to hear this from him, it was getting to the point that they thought they never would; that the dreadful scrap of parchment shackling Charon to his horrendous past would taint their relationship until the end of their days, but now…

A scarred finger brushed against Lone's cheek, capturing the tear that had escaped them in their moment of relieved contemplation. They turned their head, following his hand's retreat, and their eyes met his. A once stormy ocean now seemed to resemble a calm, pensive pool as he peered at them with a clarity he never thought he could have achieved.

Fawkes:

     Lone’s eyebrows drew upwards as they gazed sympathetically at the mutant. Fawkes was hunched over, his head buried in his large hands as small grunts of frustration pushed their way through his overlapping fingers. He’d been having flashbacks all day long, the brief snippets of his time as a human tormenting him in their fragmented incompleteness.

“Fawkes?” They tested. Lone hadn’t been able to rouse him from his state of anguish since the pair had returned to their Megaton home. Three hours ago. They rose from their chair, moving to sit beside him on the couch. Thus far, they had let him be, believing that the memories he was struggling with would either come back to him fully, or slip away from his grasp altogether, as they usually did. But this time they appeared to be more insistent and less comprehensible, rendering their companion aggravated and exhausted, and leaving Lone feeling utterly useless.

As they settled beside him, they brought a hand up to rest on his broad shoulder, feeling the pulsing tenseness of his muscle as his heavy breathing forced his shoulders to rise and fall raggedly.

“Hey,” They said softly, “I know it’s hard, but you have to try and let it go.” Lone brought their hands up to grasp at his, gently pulling them away from his scrunched up face.

“That’s not you anymore. You’re Fawkes.” They told him, looking into his strained eyes, “You’re free now, free from the vault, free from who you used to be, and free to make your own choices. To be your own kind of person.” Slowly bringing their hands down towards his lap, they continued holding onto them tightly as they tried to bring him back to reality, tried to ground him back in the present.

“You’re my closest friend, Fawkes, no matter who you were, I love you now. For who you are.” Lone’s words seemed to finally draw his attention to them, his weary eyes softening at the sight of them, as the present world around him seemed to solidify. They felt his hands squeeze theirs to the brink of being too tight, holding firmly enough to keep him tethered to this reality, and when they flexed their fingers beneath the intense pressure, he became aware of his actions, and ceased them. The mutant’s grip softened as he exhaled, finally letting his taut muscles relax beneath his ravaged, olive skin.

“That’s it. Welcome back.” Lone smiled up at him, their own relief evident in their softened expression. Fawkes slumped a little lower, his fatigue forcing his shoulders to slouch and his head to bow forwards, as he blinked away the last shreds of the past that stubbornly tried to linger in his mind. Lone saw his shrunken frame as an opportunity, and withdrew their hands gently from his grasp, bringing their arms up to wrap around his shoulders. The hug was a little awkward, with his position facing straight ahead on the couch and Lone seated beside him, not to mention his much larger frame, which proved to be difficult to fully embrace; but, after a moment, he managed to bring an arm around Lone in an effort to return the gesture, allowing them to sink further into the security of his chest.

The pair remained this way for a few moments, both pressing the other firmly to them as they relaxed into the contact and grew more comfortable. Fawkes was certainly unused to the action, but his contentment was palpable in the way he slowly gave into Lone’s touch, leaning his head against theirs and clutching at them just a bit tighter before finally slackening and pulling away.

“Thank you, Lone. It is hard to feel… lost for such a long time.” His usually gruff voice came out like tattered silk as it was softened by the emotion accompanying it, and they couldn’t help but notice as Fawkes’s hand remained settled over their shoulder, still seeming to steady himself with the unwavering contact.

“Lone, how am I ever going to repay your kindness when you continue to assist me in so many ways each and every day? Your friendship is truly unparalleled.” Lone smiled at that, chuckling slightly at the sincerity of his words.

“Some people just… need more help than others.” They told him, “I’m happy to keep helping you every day, even if you can never repay me for it. That’s what people do when they care about each other, Fawkes. Love isn't a commodity to be bought and sold, at the expense of one and the gain of another; it’s something you reciprocate on your own terms, something you give to yourself and others without condition or expectation of gaining anything in return.”

Fawkes nodded his head slowly, eyes unfocused as he thought through Lone’s words.

“If that’s the case… Then, right now, I vow to love you as you say I should. Unconditionally. And hopefully that will be enough.”

Jericho:

     The ex-raider collapsed with a groan, burying his head, face first, into the plush pillows atop their mattress. His rifle and bits of armor were strewn throughout the Tenpenny apartment, and Lone strolled behind him, trying to kick his things into a somewhat organized pile as they too tried to make themself more comfortable. 

Bits of armor clattered to the floor as Lone made their way to their shared bed, smiling exasperatedly at their companion, stretched across the entirety of the mattress, preventing them from settling beside him.

  I’m tired too, you know. They thought, releasing a puff of air as they considered how to go about solving this little problem of theirs. Lone tried dropping their bag beside the bed, the loud thud sounding as close to his ear as they could get it without physically hitting him with the sack, but Jericho didn’t even flinch. They clicked their tongue, peering around the room as they searched for a way to rouse him. As Lone started towards their shelves lining the wall of the hotel room, eyes set on the plethora of miscellaneous items they might be able to use to their advantage, a raucous snore erupted from within the plushness of their pillow-clad mattress. Lone groaned, turning about to face him before starting back towards the bed. Fine, you don’t want to make room for me? I’ll make it work anyways.

Lone approached the unconscious ex-raider, poking at the firmness of his back, testing, before hopping up in the air to land, stomach-first, on top of their companion. 

“What the shit?! The fuck you think you’re doing?” He grumbled through the thick fabric.

“Just making myself comfortable.” Lone shifted their hips and shoulders, settling themself more firmly onto Jericho’s back. 

“And you’re expectin’ me to put up with this shit?” He lifted his head, straining his neck to glare back at them questioningly. 

“I really don’t see what you can do about it, old timer.” Lone leaned forward, digging an elbow into the back of his ribcage as they brought their mouth to his ear. They felt him tense at the pressure, bringing one of his arms back awkwardly as he tried to find a grip on them. Lone swatted his hand away with theirs, leaning onto their other side to avoid his flailing limb. As he felt their weight shift, Jericho twisted his body in an attempt to overturn them, but Lone instead decided to bring their arms around his shoulders, clinging to him so that their body shifted with his as he tried to roll them off. 

“Mother fucker--” Lone began to giggle at his frustrated growls, as he rose, propping himself up on his elbows, with Lone still gripping him firmly, arms wrapped tight across his chest. He paused his thrashing, and Lone felt him shifting his head downwards, extending his neck to reach for something with his mouth… 

“Ow-- Hey!” Jericho took a part of their wrist into his mouth, biting down hard, causing their grip to loosen, and at the opportunity, he decided to throw himself backwards onto the mattress, effectively crushing Lone beneath him. They felt the breath get knocked out of them as he landed, now settling himself on top of them, grinding the back of his head into their chest in an effort to make himself more comfortable in the most obnoxious way possible. 

Well… that could have gone better, but hey, at least now I’m on the bed. 

“Alright, you win.” They said, their voice coming out strained due to the pressure on their lungs. 

“Damn right I do. Old timer… fuck you.” Lone laughed at that, reveling in the way he took their name calling so seriously. 

“Alright, alright. I get the point, can you get off me now?” 

“Nah. I think I like this. It’s real comfortable. Think I’ll just sleep this way.” Lone groaned at him, trying weakly to tousle him off their body before giving up with a loud sigh, being sure to blow their hot breath of frustration straight onto the top of his head. They felt his body shudder. 

“Fuckin’ fine, little tike, I’ll get off.” 

“Uck, don’t call me that.” Lone said as he rolled off of them, falling onto the mattress at their side. They peered over at him to see his reaction, pleased at the dark-eyed glare that bore into them, a glint of humor shining in their depths. 

“Look, I’m allowed to complain,” They told him, shifting onto their side so they could see him better. “You friggin’ bit me.” The ex-raider smiled deviously at that.

“Hmm. Yeah, I did. And I’m about to do it again.” With that, he lunged at them, an arm wrapped around their waist to hold them in place as his teeth met their neck. 

“Hey! What the--?” A moment later, the sharp pain dissolved away and was replaced by something soft as Jericho pressed his lips to the tender spot, soothing over the mark he had left. Lone’s eyes fell closed as his mouth moved up to their jaw, peppering kisses as it moved across their jawline to their chin, before finally drawing upwards to meet their lips. 

“I hope you know.” Lone heard him say as he pulled away from them, “This ain’t over yet.” They felt the mattress shift as he collapsed back onto it, and they smiled at his words, scooting closer so they could throw an arm over his stomach as they pressed their head to the crook beneath his shoulder. Lone meant to say something cheeky in response, but before they could utter a word, they felt themself dissolve into sleep as the soft sound of Jericho’s snores filled their ears.

Here is the original post with the Fallout 4 M!Companions

Here is the post with Fallout New Vegas M!Companions