#Look sometimes you just want to write characters shooting the shit and that's what I did today

[slusheeduck]

Fictober 2023 Day 15 - Prompt: "It's all right, I'm here now" Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

“This is hopeless.” It wasn't often such a sentiment came from Wyll of all people, but the utter despair reflected in the mirror in front of him said that this was serious. Karlach caught sight of him as she passed, and she quickly went up to him.

“Something wrong?” she asked, looking him over. “Gods, you look like you just lost a fight with a Gelatinous Cube.”

“I tried what you said, with the seed oil and…” He let out a little sigh of despair. In his hands were a small bottle of seed oil and a washcloth, and it seemed like he’d gotten oil everywhere but his horns. “This is much harder than I thought. I have a new respect for every well-kept set of horns I see.”

Karlach clicked her tongue. “Aw, poor thing,” she said, then gestured for the oil and cloth. “But it’s all right, I’m here. Let Mama K get those horns spic and span.”

Wyll let out a grateful sigh, gladly passing them over. “Much obliged.” As Karlach bade him to sit, he looked a bit sheepish. “Between you and me? I’m a…little more concerned with appearances than I like letting on. It’s one of those things in court life that never quite go away.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with wanting to look good,” Karlach said, mopping up the oil.  She gave him a grin in the mirror. “We can’t all wake up as blazing hot as me every morning.”

Wyll laughed. He glanced up at her as she poured some oil into her palm. “Is this…weird? I mean, I spent a lot of time with tieflings, but if it’s something, ah, personal…”

“It’s not a sex thing,” Karlach assured. “A lot of romance writers just see the chance to use ‘horny’ literally and can’t stop themselves. It’s a bit funny, actually.” With practiced hands, she rubbed the oil along one of his horns. “In my experience, it’s like braiding hair. Get your friends in for a sleepover and talk about who’s cute while you’re getting all dolled up.” She grinned as she poured in a bit more oil in her palm. “So, Wyll, anyone you’ve been looking at?”

Wyll snorted. “The worm in my head’s taken me out of the dating pool for a while, I think,” he said. “Aw, I dunno, Lae’zel seems to like you. Could be worth a go.” She leaned down. “I saw her headed to your tent at the celebration…”

“I thought she just wanted to talk!” he said with a laugh. “We’d literally never spoken before then, and so I was talking about what we’d done so far, and she just stormed out.” He looks up at her. “What about you? You’ve cooled down enough to touch people—tried shooting your shot with anyone yet?”

Karlach sighed. “Nah. I had my hopes, I’ll admit, but I don’t think anyone’s quite ready to take ol’ Karlach for a ride yet.” She toweled off the excess oil. “Anyway, I don’t think anything’s gonna feel quite as good as kicking Gortash’s stupid face in. That might just do it for me, honestly.” She stepped back, looking over Wyll in the mirror. “There you are! Aren’t you a handsome devil?”

Wyll leaned his head back up to smile at her. “Thank you, Karlach. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. Anything I can do for you?”

“Well, if this were one of the romance novels you keep trying to hide from us, I’d say there’s a few things you could do,” Karlach said with a wink.

“I’m not…I don’t--!”

Karlach threw her head back in a laughk as Wyll rubbed his now-red face. “You really gotta be more careful when we’re packing up! I saw that copy of Wanting in Waterdeep that fell out of your bag last move.” She gave a big grin, rubbing his back. “Okay, okay. Really? Really really? I’d like to dance with you sometime.”

Wyll’s eyebrows rose as he got up to his feet. “You would?”

“Fuck yes, I would! I love dancing!” she said brightly. “I always wanted to learn those fancy upper-class dances.”

Wyll smiled, then gave a little flourish of his hand before giving her a deep bow. “Then, my lady, it would be my honor to ask you to dance.”

Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

[deadghosy]

Hello ! I wanted to ask if you can write a Hazbin Hotel x male!reader that is like a raccon please ?

Ignore it if you don't want to write it !!

(Unconnected, but I really love your writing. You have a real talent for this)

Sure lol! I also wanted to make them have the animal spirit of a raccoon so here you go! 🦆💗

HAZBIN HOTEL X RACCOON! READER

prompt: a ex-thief wants redemption to see his family

You stole shit..like lots of it to the point even your ex-teammates calls you a raccoon for your ability to steal like crazy. So when one of your teammates killed you because of they were jealous you got so much jewelry…. You fell into hell grumbling piss at seeing your ex teammate shoot you before you died.

You dusted off your outfit to fuckin' see you are a raccoon. (You can imagine reader to be a cubby raccoon or your body type 😘) but you gotta admit it fitted you as you looked to see an ad for a hotel that talks about redemption. You didn’t wanna stay in hell any longer as you smell the flames in your snout. So you go over to the hotel.

You stay at the hotel for months, getting the trust of the hotel staff as you live there. Charlie introduces herself in her dreams to you, making you feel at least as you should help her grow in her dreams of the hotel that she’s making out of this.

So you nod, accepting your be part of the exercises she does.

You either was given a red outfit just like Charlie and vaggie or just a black fit to match your mischievous personality. 

I can see reader literally just trying to wash their hand from the sink as Charlie pick them up and helps you wash your hands thinking you can’t change heights.

Lucifer picked you up because you’re the size of a raccoon so you kind of found it funny until you grow up in size as human size. Never in his life has Lucifer dropped a person so quick as you chuckled. 

“EW A RODENT” “EW A SHORT PERSON”

There was so much silence that the silence was loud as Lucifer gave you a “that’s not nice D:” face as you shrugged.

Raccoon! Reader and penguin! Reader would be cousins 😭

Like literally these two animal readers would be those cousins trying to get a sleepover by their moms.

Angel would probably set you up to steal from Valentino…I mean shit Italians stick together☝🏾

Niffty likes to groom you if you are in your raccoon size. Don’t run, you can’t out run Niffty and her cleaning tools ‼️

I can imagine you and sir Pentious being slight mutuals as you go through peoples trash bins and just collect metal for Pentious making Pentious give you something in return.

A cute headcannon is that you sometimes stick your tongue out when drinking something other than gulping it down.

Husk had gave you some water because you were dehydrated. And this man raised an eyebrow seeing you drink it like a cautious animal. Okay so maybe husk did pet you on your head as you were too busy drinking the water.

You are a slick bastard, you would literally pick pocket people without them even knowing it. Hell, you died with a talent because of this. But it’s sometimes hard to break bad habits.

I headcannon you bit a resident that tried to pickpocket off of you. You definitely gave them rabies with your sharp teeth as they started to spazz and pass out. Leaving you just standing there like. “Did I do that…😨”

I can see raccoon! Reader just being thrown by Angel when he wanted to catch some sinner who tried to take his drugs (pilot reference) and you got on the sinners head and fuck up their face🦆

It was definitely giving “PIKACHU, I CHOOSE YOU!” 😭

Okay so I gotta admit…I headcannon raccoon! Reader to have dug in the trash bins only to get scolded by Charlie as you had a banana peel on your head

I can see raccoon reader also having the personality of rigby, but more of a mature side to it a little. If you know what character I’m talking about hit me up 😘😍

As much as you seem playful and dumb at time, you’re really smart when you wanna be smart. You literally outsmarted Alastor at chess once which made alastor’s eyes widen at you.

I deadass headcannon raccoon! Reader to have like some kinda of accent. Probably Italian, but make it heavy and attractive. 😭🦆

But like if raccoon reader is Italian imagine the secret talks you and Angel do away from the others 😭😭 just two Italian boys planning world domination

Alastor doesn’t have any options on you other than you just stealing his cane makes him pissed off.

You stole his cane for a talent show down stairs that Charlie made. You were doing comedy until this mf grabbed the scuff of your neck and forced you to give it back.😭

STOP CAUSE YOU PROBABLY GOT LOCKED IN A TRASH BIN ONCE AND IT TOOK THE WHOLE CREW TO FIND YOU IN 2 DAYS😭😭

“Ewww…welp found them Charlie!” Alastor said picking you up over his shoulder with a wide grin as he slides down the dump stash.

You are in charge of the lost and found section of the hotel as you just go in room and find shit. I mean you would love to keep them to yourself but Charlie and vaggie knew you would try to steal. So that’s why they made you in charge of lost and found.

You and Angel once went on a hot girl shopping spree..well actually Angel brought you along since you two bond very well. You two legit bought shades together while Angel dust went shopping with you behind him holding his bags.

I headcannon raccoon! Reader to have a locket of his mom in his pocket at all times because before going to bed they kiss the locket and wish their mom a good night.

Charlie learnt you liked being pet from your head to your back as it helps you sleep better. She squeaks at your rare cuteness as she hears you let out a few cute snores.

You stole from husk making him grumble looking for his wallet only to see you come back whistling holding a bunch of groceries.

“Let me guess, you stole my fuckin' wallet?” “Whattt me stole whooo?” You said with a smirk putting down the groceries for husk as he grumbles snatching his wallet from you.

Husk and you have a weird friendship dynamic. It’s like you two hate but like each other. So it’s basically frenemies

When the angel fell down and came to fight, what did you do? Bitch you stole their heaven bucks and dead angel’s weapons. If you can’t beat em, wait for them to die😍

Adam literally seen you stealing money from tel he angels and was going to kill you when he felt his pockets…HIS WALLET WAS GONE?! HOW TF DID YOU TAKE HIS WALLET?!

“THAT LITTLE THIEVING SHIT TOOK MY WALLET?!” “ BUT SIR! THAT IMPOSSIBLE?” “NO SHIT!” Adam retorts at lute as Adam grumbles seeing your figure run away

After Adam had died, you ran his pockets…😭 devious ass shit-

The hotel crew just gave you a shocked looked after you stole half of his possessions.

You and Angel dust literally just be chilling and mess with husk a lot 😭 so now husk got two Italians annoying him lmao

Sir Pentious doesn’t like you because of how you sometimes sneak into his room or lab and steal some of his stuff just so you can have a little stash of something to remember the good old days when you were alive.

Sooner or later, you had given Pentious his stuff back remembering your mom might be in heaven. You miss her cooking.

I imagine raccoon! Reader to be a mama’s boy🤨☝🏾

You’re so use to playing dead as a raccoon, as you literally played dead in front of husk and angel making them scared you actually died….yeah you told them it was a prank and they got mad to the point they locked you out of the hotel.

“GUYS! LET ME IN DAMNIT! IT WAS JUST A JOKE! FELLAS?!”

[simpjaes]

hiii i really like your writing style and how you portray the characters(?? how do i refer to the members 😭)

i wanted to ask if you would do hyung line reaction to getting walked in on while having sex w their s/o?

like e.g. if heeseung was banging his girl and jake walked in the room to get smth what would be his reaction

hyung line + being walked in on mid-fuck

tags: cucking, masturbation, sunghoon and jay walk in on each other, jake and heeseung walk in on each other.

mdni.

☆ jay:

well, first of all, the doors are LOCKED if jay is balls deep. he likes to take his time, likes to not have to worry about anything else but you and him, and loves the privacy of being the only person who gets to see you so vulnerable and spread out for him. of course, there are rare occasions where the arousal is through the roof and he's lucky he even gets you into his bedroom before dropping to his knees and forcing one of your legs over his shoulder just so he can get his mouth on you. on the rare occasion where Sunghoon does walk in, typically he's going to let out a long, frustrated groan before shooting a look of daggers at his friend. Doesn't change the fact that the image of Jay on his knees with his tongue buried in the pussy of his very pretty and moaning girlfriend is burned into Sunghoon's brain though. Would probably end in hoon trying to walk in on it as often as he can. If not that, would end in hoon fucking his fist in his room simply imagining how good his roommate is probably giving it to you. [disclaimer, i am a whore for jay and i almost wrote him as the opposite. where he 100% hotwifes his girl and loves seeing her get pleasure whenever and however she wants it, even if it's from his own roommate lol.]

★ jake:

jake doesn't notice til you try and tell him to stop. and when you tell him heeseung just walked in, he keeps going. maybe even comments like "so what?" Sometimes he's so into that he's well aware heeseung is being a pervert and still doesn't care. even encouraging you to ignore him, or to simply keep your eyes on him and not on heeseung because he can't bare to stop right now, not with how fucking good your pussy feels. little comments like "shh, just focus on me." or he says nothing at all and fucks into you deeper so you couldn't care less either. heeseung on the other hand, was awkward at first but now genuinely just sits back and enjoys the show. will literally take a seat sometimes and start palming against his pants at how the two of you literally fucking lose your minds enough to not give a shit that he's getting something out of it too. Sometimes he even finds himself wondering what it feels like to be so empty-headed and pussy drunk like Jake always is, so lost in the sauce that he'd allow his roommate to jerk off to his girlfriend getting railed.

☆ sunghoon:

sunghoon shows shame at first when Jay walks in and quickly stutters out an apology. It's an awkward situation, knowing his roommate and best friend is currently seeing him with his girlfriend's legs on his shoulders. He tries to stop, really. His head snaps to Jay in surprise but you'd clench around him so tightly in your own shock that instantly his eyes roll back and he lets out a moan instead of an apology. His hips would move on their own, fucking tightly into you with furrowed brows. He'd be so apologetic about it, as would jay. HOWEVER, jay wouldn't be able to look away. His hand would be on the door knob, he'd be trying to find a way to apologize himself for what he's witnessing, but the words would never come. He would never quite leave. Not until, like, you know, his cock is throbbing and he needs to take care of it before he cums in his pants at the mere image of you snapping your eyes to him mid-moan.

★ heeseung:

Heeseung does not give a fuck who is seeing. If he's fucking you, he's fucking you. Point. Blank. Period. Nothing and no one will stop him from giving you what you need, nor will anything stop him from getting what he needs. So, when Jake fucking prances into his room muttering something about a missing sock, all he can do is sigh in frustration before narrowing his eyes at jake, still thrusting into you while he does it. however, the way you clench upon Jake walking in, and the way you're suddenly moaning a bit louder, heeseung snaps his head back to you. His brow quirks as he processes the new information given to him by your body alone. He smiles, and then he fucks you harder, making deep, whispered comments loud enough for Jake to hear. "Oh? You like that?" and "go on then, spread that pussy for him baby, show him." Jake would find himself in a frenzy of aroused feelings. Shocked, confused, embarrassed, so fucking hard. Like, wow, he's more embarrassed for you than he is for heeseung or himself witnessing each other in a state like this. You really take it too. jake would watch on, seeing all of the things you let heeseung do to with without a single argument. Whatever hole heeseung wants, he gets, and he just fucking shows you off to jake in a way that's like "look what I have, look how pretty she is, look what she lets me to do her." jealousy is an understatement, but hey, at least heeseung lets him full on get his cock out and sometimes even lets him cum on your face.

[stormsandfoes]

Thomas Hewitt/ Reader

𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔱? 𝔑𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔯?

Written in third-person limited POV, focusing on Thomas. Content tags: Neurodivergence, Cannibalism, mentions of rape, Canon typical violence, self harm, Mommy issues, child abuse (mentioned), good vs. evil with nothing in between, religious trauma. Author notes: I honestly intended this to be short and to the point- but here we are. I read a lot of Thomas/Reader stories where Thomas is portrayed as neurotypical and I don't know why it bothers me so much- it's just fanfiction after all, but I wanted to write a short "love" story where Thomas is violent and scared and lonely. He's nonverbal, he's mentally disturbed but not 'slow'. His world is very black and white and full of violence, so that got me wondering- what would love look like for him? What would happen if this man, who has only ever known darkness, met someone who was nice to him? Fair warning, lots of rambling ahead. I also just want to say that I am Autistic and that influenced a lot of this story- from the way that I write, to how I portray characters, to certain interactions. So if anything seems weird to you, I apologize- my mind works in weird ways. If I need to clarify anything, just shoot me a message. I would love to talk about the writing process and why I included certain things. Important: This is about 15k words and NOT even half of it. I had to cut it into pieces, will update the rest in another post.

Thomas brings the axe above his head, his breath ragged as he swings it down and cuts the piece of firewood in half with a low grunt. He’s hot, even though it’s the middle of winter- the weather low even with the sun that hid behind the clouds- and his shirt is sticking to him uncomfortably, the sweat doing nothing to cool him down.

He lodges the axe into the tree stump, grabbing the two pieces of wood and throwing them in the wheelbarrow before he wipes his forehead with dirt covered hands. It was the last chore of the day, and he was tired and sore- a tightness in his shoulders that seemed to spread all the way down to lower back and made him want to get in bed. His mask is damp and tight against his face, the skin underneath irritated. He wants to go inside and change, the thought of taking a shower was frustrating but he knew that he needed one. He could smell himself- bitter with sweat and the slightly suffocating scent that seemed to stick to chickens now clinging to him from when he had cleaned out the chicken coop. His nails were lined with dirt- hands and arms caked in grime. It made him feel heavy and slow.

Uncle Hoyt would drag him to the back and hose him off if he saw him, and he hated that more than he hated cleaning himself off- the feeling of water on his skin something he had never got around to liking. He could handle other things- blood never seemed to churn his stomach, or when Momma or Uncle Hoyt used to ask him to go clean out the pig pen- back when they could afford to have pigs, they were empty now, the whole farm seemed to get emptier and emptier as the months passed- he hadn’t thought that shoveling pig shit into a bucket was all that bad. But he had trouble smelling sometimes, especially with the leather pressed so tight against the place his nose had once been.

He takes the handles of the wheelbarrow, filled with enough dried out wood for the weekend- maybe Monday, if the weather stayed where it was at- and began to haul it towards the house. Momma would need some in the kitchen, to boil water and heat the ovens for Supper when she got back from town. He’d have to check the fireplace on the main floor- sometimes even on the coldest days of winter that room stayed warm enough that if they were to turn on the fireplace it’d be too uncomfortable to sit in. He would wait until Uncle Monty asked for more- he didn’t like it when any of them made decisions for him, more so now that he was stuck in that wheelchair.

There were no fireplaces upstairs, just piles of blankets to layer and hope they did enough to keep them warm. Sometimes it would be enough for him, but there were nights that even with two or three of the ones Momma sewed together for him; he would still lay awake, teeth chattering from the cold. It’s why he hated the cold- he could manage the heat, but winter was unpredictable even in the deep south of Texas.

Uncle Monty is in the living room, asleep in his chair as the TV keeps playing, almost as loud as his snoring. He walks past him, noticing the almost empty fireplace. His footsteps are heavy and loud from the metal on his shoes as he carries an armful of wood into the kitchen. He sets it down on the dining table, right on the white plastic cloth momma had set out before she had left, dirt falls onto the floor and he makes a low, grumbling noise of frustration, hoping that she didn’t see it when she got home.

He had forgotten the plastic mat last time and gotten her favorite tablecloth dirty -the mud staining the light blue cotton forever. He didn’t see why it was such a big deal, Momma had once told him that life was messy, that’s how one knew that they were living it, but she had been so angry at him then- sending him out with the bucket and soap, shouting about the mud he had tracked inside their house. Supper had come late that night- Hoyt growing angry at him. He liked it when it was ready and waiting for him when he got home- shouting at momma that working men weren’t supposed to wait for food.

He had gotten into an argument with him that night- he didn’t like it when people were mean to momma. Uncle Hoyt had called him a bad name- making his blood boil.

He didn’t want that to happen again. He didn’t like how badly he had wanted to hurt Uncle Hoyt at that moment. Momma said that family fought all the time, but he had to be careful not to do anything that he would regret. Maybe he would regret it when his blood stained his clothes, but part of him wasn’t so sure. He liked him better when he was Uncle Charlie. Uncle Hoyt reminded him of the bad men.

He tries not to think about it anymore when he heads back outside to grab a few more pieces of wood for the living room. He didn’t like thinking back on the things that made him angry, sometimes he couldn’t come back from them, and he’d end up doing something bad.

By the time he’s pushing past the double front doors, Momma’s car is pulling into the dirt path off to the side of the house. It’s an old one- rusting from the heat of too many summers, but momma didn’t mind it.

 The car comes to a stop as he picks up another armful of wood and takes it inside.

Ever since Hoyt became Sheriff of the town, things had gotten better for them. There were never days where they went to bed hungry, the meat freezer down in the basement always seemed to have enough for them. If it ever ran low, a Hoyt always seemed to find a way to get it restocked. Momma had taken over the shop in town after the owner had passed away and Hoyt made sure that his son- one of the bad men- went right along with him. He had filled the bellies of those who still stayed in town, too hungry to care enough to question them. Sometimes she brought back what didn’t sell that day and they’d have themselves a little feast. There were days Uncle Hoyt brought a guest with him- always a woman-, other times he’d ask momma to bring his food up to his room- the muffled screaming drowned out by Monty’s TV show.

He liked to stay in the basement on those days. It was harder to hear the pleading and begging as Hoyt played too rough with them. He would always get stuck with getting rid of them afterwards and he was starting to dislike the chore.

By the time he finishes stacking the wood, Momma is calling out for him, the front door swinging open. He freezes- his shoulders squaring and his breath suddenly heavy as he looks up at the hall, hidden between a wall and the fireplace. There was someone with Momma. He could hear the footsteps- Momma walked with a purpose, heavy and loud like him. She said that she did it so God would hear her better, but he wasn’t so sure that God was with them anymore. The ones that came after her were lighter, nervous.

He didn’t like guests. Didn’t like that Momma and uncle Hoyt had developed a habit of taking in strays that would just end up in the basement with him later. They would scream when they saw him- call him those names that made the anger come. Some of them liked to hurt him, momma taking him to the bathroom afterwards and stitching him up.

“You’re going to love my Tommy. He’s a little bit shy but he’s got the sweetest heart.” Momma says and he hears the other person laugh. It’s a soft noise- gentle in a way that manages to make his heart race faster as he tries to crawl deeper into the tiny space. “He’s here around somewhere… but let’s get you set up in your room then you can come down and help me with supper, okay?”

Another laugh, his heart racing uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t want Momma to find him, he was already so tired.

“Of course,” the stranger says, and she- the thought of a woman in the house irritates him- doesn’t talk like Momma or Hoyt or Monty. Her voice is quiet, it doesn’t drawl out. He’s heard it before- she must be from out of town. “I would love to!”

For a moment, he feels bad for the woman as he hears them go up the stairs. He always feels bad for them at first. Momma said that his heart was too kind. Hoyt called him a pansy boy, in need of toughening up. He doesn’t know why he feels bad, the guests were never good people- he’d always come to learn that, but it never seems to do anything to make the twitch of guilt go away from his heart. The steps grow quieter the farther up they go- until he hears Momma’s muffled voice and then her footsteps coming back down.

She spots him, curled into himself in that tiny, dark space and she sucks her teeth, shaking her head. “Thomas Hewitt, what in the lords name are you doing there?”

He feels embarrassed all of a sudden, getting caught like this. He makes a low noise in his chest, pointing to the firewood.

“Come on and get on out of there if you’re done then, we’ve got company.” She comes down the rest of the steps and makes her way towards him. When she holds out her hand he takes it, a comfort that has his heart slowing down.

 “I need you to go and grab the rest of her stuff from the car- poor girl don’t got no power in her home.” She says with a shake of her head as she pulls and helps him to his feet. “She’ll be staying with us until her electricity gets put back up.”

He shakes his head, this time the noise he makes is in protest, a deep groan of anger. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want her in his house.

Momma frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “Now listen here Thomas, not everyone is as lucky as we are. Sometimes we have to help those in need.”

He wants to believe her- Momma wasn’t one for lying, after all- but this isn’t anything new. He knew how this would end; with the woman in their bellies and her screams in his head, keeping him awake at night. She would make a mistake and then she’d end up in the basement, begging for her life.

It was like Momma had set her up to fail, like a game that promised a prize that would never come, and Thomas didn’t want to play. Not this time. He shakes his head again, his way of telling her no.

Momma and Uncle Hoyt have a lot in common, no matter how sweet and gentle Momma tried to be, her anger was almost as bad as his. He doesn’t like it when she gets angry at him- everyone was always angry at him- and he can see it in her eyes, making him bend his chin against his chest as he let out a whine, glancing down at the ground. She never hit him, but she would ignore him and that hurt a lot more.

“Then you go on upstairs and tell the poor girl that she’s got to leave. I won’t be the one to break the bad news.” Momma huffs, stomping over to the kitchen. “Tell her you would rather see her freeze than offer a small kindness.”

There it is, that harshness in her voice that makes him tremble, his heart picking up its pace until he feels like he can’t breathe. He shakes his head again, digging his fingers into his arm. He didn’t want to have anything to do with the woman. Didn’t want to be forced to deal with her later but if this is what Momma wanted, then he would do it. He would make her happy.

He lets out another noise, smaller this time and turns towards the door. Part of him is angry- angry that he wasn’t allowed to be angry without being punished. Angry that sometimes it seemed like he wasn’t allowed to have a say when it came to things. He felt as if momma sometimes liked to hurt him on purpose- pushing and pushing until he snapped.

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he feels the guilt settle in his stomach, hot and suffocating. Momma wasn’t like the bad people. She wouldn’t hurt him. Sometimes he just made her so angry- he knew that. He knew that he was difficult and stubborn and sometimes she got tired of dealing with him.

It wouldn’t be long before the woman disappeared anyways- Hoyt will see her at supper and he’d take her upstairs. The screaming will start, and everyone will act like they couldn’t hear it; Momma would knit, and Monty would turn the volume on the TV up until it was too much. He’d end up sleeping in the basement again, picking at his skin until it was raw and bleeding- the crying twisting his stomach and threatening to swallow him whole.

He just had to wait until then. He would be good until then.

The trunk of the car was left open for him, and he finds the woman’s things waiting for him. It’s not much- a simple backpack, filled with so many things that it ballooned uncomfortably. He grabs it, grunting at the fact that it was heavier than he thought, and slams the trunk close. The car shakes and squeaks at his aggression as he carries the bag inside. He doesn’t like the fact that he’s touching the stranger’s things.

He’s dirty- his fingers staining the bag- but he’s also dirty inside. Rotten from the anger, the bad he’s done. The bad he was going to do. He can feel himself soiling the items inside- turning them just as dirty as him as he walks into the kitchen and sets the bag down on the floor. Momma had taken the firewood he had left and put away the mat. He could feel the warmth of the fire even from where he stood across the oven- filling the room with the scent of smoke. He grunts, wanting Momma to turn around and see that he had done what she asked. He wanted her to smile at him- to ease the way his heart still hammered in frustration.

She turns, but the softness in her eyes isn’t directed at him- she barely looks at him and his heart sinks further down into his stomach, tension building in the back of his neck. He can hear her footsteps now- the creaking of the staircase as she came downstairs. He’s standing in front of a wall, the staircase on the other side. For now, he was hidden- but it wouldn’t be long until she stepped into the kitchen, and he couldn’t hide anymore.

“We’re in here dear,” Momma calls out to her. “Tommy here’s got your bag for you.”

He sees her for the first time out of the corner of his eye- spotting her before she spots him, her eyes on Momma. She’s short- shorter than momma by a bit, and clean and well dressed. Her sweater is thick and colorful, the cuffs of her sleeves neatly folded against her wrists. Something there catches the soft yellow light of the kitchen- a thin golden bracelet halfway hidden beneath the fabric. Her jeans look like they’ve been around for a long time- a different shade of fabric stitched into one of the knees. Her boots are old and worn out, reminding him of his own.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this feeling that runs through him as he inspects her.

“I really like your house!” she says- voice light and full of excitement that made his mood worsen. “Its-” whatever she was about to say dies in her throat as she turns her head to the left and spots him for the first time.

He doesn’t let her look at his face- turning his head to the side as he folds into himself, chin against chest. He doesn’t like this- doesn’t like that she stares at him without saying anything. He can feel her eyes on him- inspecting him- an animal on display. His chest rises and falls painfully, his breathing hard and loud in the silence. He can feel his hands twitch- his thumb nail grazing along the length of his finger.

“This is my son,” Momma’s voice is tight as she talks. “Tommy this here is our guest. Don’t you want to say hello?”

He shakes his head, his hands trembling. Something wet lands inside the sink and he startles. He hears Momma suck her teeth and he can see her in his mind- shaking her head like she does whenever he does something she doesn’t like.

He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like that Momma is getting mad at him, that the woman still stands there, watching him tremble in fear. He could already hear it- her laughing as she called him an idiot. They always called him something. They always laughed at him.

“It’s okay,” her voice shakes a bit as she breaks the silence, and she coughs and clears her voice. “I, um, I’m a little shy myself so I know how hard it can be sometimes.” She speaks slowly, her voice almost a low whisper. She tells him her name. Tells him that it’s nice to meet him.

He doesn’t say anything- not that he can, he’s never spoken a single word- but he nods his head, his eyes quickly glancing over at her. She’s still looking at him and his heart almost beats through his ribs. He expects her to be looking at him like they always look at him- filled with disgust and hatred, looking for any excuse to leave, to get as far away as possible from him- but he doesn’t find that in her face.

He finds her mouth twisted downwards and her eyebrows pushed together just a tiny little bit, her eyes gentle and wide. She looked at him as if he was a dog out by the side of the road on a hot summer afternoon refusing help and she had been chasing him with a bowl of water.

She looks at him like there was nothing scary about him. Like he was a man, dirty from a long day at work and not a freak- poor and disfigured- a monster. He had never seen that look from anyone who didn’t live in this house, and it scared him. It terrified him that someone would decide to look at him like that.

But as soon as he met her eyes she looked away, towards Momma- a smile in her voice.

“What are we making for dinner?” she asks, stepping farther into the kitchen and pushing her sleeves up towards her elbows- ready for whatever Momma tells her to do.

The tension disappears just like that, Momma laughing lightly as she places her hand on the woman’s back and pulls her close. “You’re such a darling, helping me out like this. How about you start getting out the pots and pans? They’re over there by the pantry.” She pointed to the cupboards by the fridge and the woman nodded and went straight towards them.

With her back to them- Momma turned and looked at him finally. He could still feel his heart hammering away at his chest, but this was more manageable. He was still waiting for the names to come, for the screaming and the disgust to appear in her eyes. Sometimes when Momma was around people hid it a bit better, but he knew that it wouldn’t be long until they couldn’t hide it anymore.

He expects Momma to still be mad at him- blue eyes dark with anger- but instead she sighs and puts her hand on his shoulder, a silent apology that has his muscles relaxing. The woman pays them no mind- bending down to inspect the cupboard down there.

“Go on and take her bag up to her room and get yourself cleaned up, okay?” She tugs on the collar of his shirt before fixing his hair out of his face. It’s damp from his sweat, but she doesn’t flinch. “She’s a good girl- try to handle her with care, alright?” Her voice is a low whisper- something the woman wasn’t supposed to hear. It unsettles him as he nods along with Momma- not quite understanding what she meant. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to nod along with her or shake his head, but Momma doesn't wait for an answer, patting him on the cheek before she turns her head and calls out to the woman.

“Honey, Tommy is going to take your bag up to your room- is that alright?”

The woman rises from the ground, two pots neatly stacked in each other in her hands. “Yes,” she says softly- her eyes meeting his. “Thank you, Tommy.”

She smiles at him shyly and his heart begins to hammer against his ribs again. He feels his skin begin to burn- his flesh raw and exposed to her. Even underneath his mask he can feel himself heating up as he looks away, scrambling to grab the bag.

He needed to get away from her- from Momma and her words that he couldn’t understand. He felt like he couldn’t breathe with her here. He stumbles up the steps- feet so heavy against the wood that he swears he can feel the house tremble underneath him.

Momma gave her the room across his- the empty one where she liked to keep the extra bed sheets and towels. But it’s cleaner now as he turns the knob and goes inside, the curtains pulled open to let in the bit of light that still shone from outside- the sun close to setting. The piles of blankets that were on the bed are gone- the sheets neatly tucked into the space between the mattress and the boxspring. There’s a jacket thrown on top- red and faded, the cuffs ripped up on one arm.

He sits the bag right next to it- on the floor, wiping his hands on his jeans. It topples over and he lets out a grunt- fixing it so it sat upright again. He decided that he would stay up here until Momma called him for supper. He wouldn’t go down to the basement while the woman was here- he was worried that she would be stupid enough to follow him down there. That would be the end of her. Blood and flesh and sinew torn from her bones for them to feast on.

He’s careful when he’s leaving the room- closing the door gently so that it doesn’t slam before he hurries off into his own- locking the door behind himself.

Here it’s dark, his windows covered in greased up newspapers. He didn’t like it when it got too bright- when the sun shone through and reminded him of the mess around him. His room is small and cramped and full of things that he had hauled up from the furnace room so that he wasn’t stuck going up and down all the time. Uncle Monty said that he sounded like a ‘goddamned bulldozer,’ stomping around the house when he was trying to sleep. So, it was better this way- even though sometimes he got irritated that there were too many things. But it meant not being bothersome, so he tried not to mind much.

He checks the door again- making sure that he had really locked it, pulling and twisting at the doorknob just to be safe. He knew that no one would come up here and go into his room- Monty was stuck on the first floor, Momma was with the girl in the kitchen preparing supper and Uncle Hoyt wasn’t home yet. But he was always a little paranoid, just the tiniest bit afraid that someone would knock down his door and see everything about him that he had tried so hard to hide. Not even Momma was allowed in here. This was his- the only place where he could hide from everyone, where he didn’t have to worry about anyone disturbing him.

He takes his mask off and it’s not quite the relief he was expecting- the leather inside has gone stiff, his face raw and tender and aching from all the sweat and dirt that had managed to get in. He can feel it as he runs his fingers across his face, a cut on the corner of his lips that wasn’t there last time. It blends into the sores and scarred tissue already there, his skin long ruined. It shouldn’t bother him- but as he opens his mouth and feels the skin stretch and crack, a drop of blood welling up and rolling down his chin- he gets upset, grunting in frustration. He had wanted to clean the mask and add some petroleum to try and soften it up so it wouldn’t bite at his skin anymore- pinching and scratching and making the pain worse. It would have been something to do, something to keep him busy and distracted until he had to face the inevitable, but now it was something that he no longer wanted to do. Why would he? What would it change?

It was never this bad- but ever since his nose began to fall away, it only ever seemed to get worse- no matter what he did or how hard he pleaded for it to just stop and go away- nothing ever changed. There was no one there to listen to his pleas.

With a low groan of frustration, he tears his hand from his face, wiping the blood on the front of his shirt. He hates himself. Hates everything about himself. Momma liked to say that the bad people were liars, that people who were hurting only ever knew how to hurt others- but he knew that wasn’t true. He was a monster. He saw it, looking back at him in the mirror- wild and ugly and evil, everything that he did not want to be. He hated taking his mask off- hated knowing that the man that existed underneath it was the same man that he was trying to escape from.

Coming here was a mistake. He should have stayed downstairs, should have gone out back to the barn- there he would have found something, anything, to do.

He takes a breath like Momma showed him, trying to push the anger away- down, down, down, until he couldn’t feel it slithering through his veins and pounding in the back of his head. He just had to focus on something else-he liked it when he had chores, things to do that kept him busy and away from the bad thoughts. He takes another deep breath through his mouth- dirt and salt on his lips as he picks up the mask and tries to clean it off on his clothing. It does nothing but lift the dust off into the air as he places it on his face, tightening it too much across his head, leather digging into tender skin. He would take a bath, change his clothes, then sit in bed and wait. Uncle Hoyt would come an hour after the sun disappeared and then he would have to go downstairs. He didn’t want to go downstairs.

He didn’t want to feel the bad feelings anymore. The fear, the anger. The woman would look at him and his throat would tighten, and his heart would beat painfully. He hadn’t liked that feeling- trapped in his own skin, unable to get away. Yet at the same time, he wanted her to look at him. No one ever looked at him.

He could still feel her eyes- soft and warm on his skin, simultaneously calming and worsening his anger. He was half embarrassed- covered in dirt and sweat stains, his clothing old and faded- Did she think that he was disgusting? He was always messy in everything that he did- always having to teach himself how to do things. Filth had never been a stranger. Had never bothered him. But he finds himself wanting to wash the grime and sweat from himself- even if he was just going to put the same clothes back on.

His stomach growls, empty and needy as he unlocks the door and roughly pushes it open- he finds the woman outside of it.

The door swings open, the gust of wind pushing her hair around as the door barely manages to miss her. She’s looking up at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open- her arms up by her chest. It scares him, seeing her there and he makes a messy, garbled noise of surprise.

“Sorry!” she speaks fast, her words all pushed together. “I was just trying to find the bathroom!”

He feels his heart beating in his throat, muscles tense and solid as he stares down at her. She’s so much shorter than he thought- he could reach out and crush her throat in his hand and it wouldn’t take much force to do so. He’s almost tempted to, his fingers twitching at his sides. Momma would get mad at him when he dragged her body downstairs- but she would forget eventually.

“I’m in your way- I,” she takes a step back, her eyes finally releasing his. “I’m sorry, I’m just-”

He grunts. Low and short- his way of telling her to stop talking. Nothing she says is making any sense to him and the sound of her voice makes his heart hammer at his chest. Thunderous and loud and painful. It scares him how easily she does that to him. Such a small thing like her, carelessly walking into a house where God was nowhere to be found without a single ounce of caution. He could take her to his room, and no one would hear her scream. He could scare her more than she scared him.

She squirms in the silence like a rat stuck in a trap. She tugs at her sleeve, at her collar- his breathing loud as he watches her- watches her chest rise and fall with every breath, her eyes on the space between them.

 Another grunt and she startles backwards, looking up at him. This time, when her eyes meet his own, he doesn’t cower even though his body tenses and he can already feel her pulse beneath his hand.

 His body is stiff as he steps out of his room and moves out of the way of the door- he has to turn his back to her and for a split-second, panic runs cold and fast through his veins as he remembers the woman who had stabbed him. The door slams close as he turns around quickly, eyes wide and wild as he looks down at her hands.

He expects to see a knife pointed at him- the scar on his shoulder aching from the memory of being sliced apart, the pain still there even after all the months that have passed since. He hadn’t done anything to deserve that pain- the woman and her friends had attacked first, had tried to hurt his family. Uncle Hoyt had told him, so had Momma with tears in her eyes and blood splatters on her dress. They were bad people who wanted to do bad things to them, and it was his responsibility to protect them- to keep them safe. It hadn’t mattered that his hands shook so hard with fear, and he could taste vomit at the back of his throat, vile and burning, he had to protect them. They were all that he had. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- lose them.

He was panting as he searched the woman and finds nothing in her hands, her eyes widening as she takes another step away from him.

 Was she scared?

Did she finally see it? The evil that radiated off of him that others seemed to see- always scared of getting too close to him- He was a disease on this town. A burden. Did he finally scare her?

Would she scream?

Was she going to hurt him- just like everyone else? Drive a knife into his flesh- a pain that would only last for so long before it faded into a memory that he refused to think of. A pain that wouldn’t be so bad compared to the shame that churned his stomach whenever a stranger screamed when they saw him.

He waited- teeth clamped together as he stared her down in the heavy silence.

He watched as her lips part, lower lip trembling slightly. If she screamed, he would hurt her before she could hurt him. If she screamed, she would be nothing but a pile of bones, tossed into the fire by the time the sun rose tomorrow.

Scream, he thought, fingers twitching at his sides. Scream already and let this end already.

“You’re scared of me, aren’t you?” she whispers and her voice trembles even as she keeps talking. “I can tell- you’re looking at me like I just pulled out a gun on you or something.” She lifts her hands towards him and moves them back and forth, as if she was showing him that he had nothing to worry about. “But my hands are empty-”

She lifts her hands, palms facing him, and wiggles her fingers. “If it makes you feel better, apart from a kitchen knife I don’t think I’ve ever held a weapon.” She smiles oddly at him- as if she wasn’t sure how to do so, her eyes still wide and unblinking. As if she was worried that he would lunge at her at any second.

He doesn’t like how his body seems to let go of its worries and fears so fast, his shoulders drooping and his heartbeat slowing down until it’s no longer pounding against his ears as the ringing slowly starts to disappear. He unclenches his teeth, the pain still lingering in his jaw and neck, and suddenly, he’s no longer thinking of hurting the woman- of how easy he would have snapped her neck. He still could, part of him even ached and begged for him to do it. To get it over with.

But he doesn’t listen to that part of him that never truly seemed to go away- always begging for blood, for a voice that would finally be heard. He’s staring at her hands instead, focusing on the tips of her fingers that are flushed pink. He notices the birthmark on her left middle finger- a tiny dot right underneath the crease of her knuckle. He notices all the tiny little lines that make up her palms and the way her thumb trembles lightly.

He did not like her.

He did not like the way something as simple as her hands was enough to draw his attention- his eyes seeking out the tiny little patterns between her fingers. He did not like how her voice could soothe him so easily when he wanted nothing but to crush her- to take her, to taste her flesh on his tongue and her blood on his lips.

He did not like how she called out to him as he just stared at her- stared through her, voice gentle with his name. It wasn’t the same as when Momma said it though. This felt like a spell, a bad omen- Satan’s own voice whispering temptation in his ear. Sweet and gentle and unfamiliar.

She made him feel the same way he had felt that one night he had snuck upstairs to watch Uncle Hoyt and his new friend. He had pushed the door open just enough so that he could see but still stay hidden from the light. He hadn’t made a single noise as he watched Hoyt undo his pants and pull the woman’s legs apart. He hadn’t been able to see much from his hiding place, but what he heard had sent a shock of electricity through his body- blood boiling with need as he listened to the crying and the begging and the sound of something slick being hit over and over again. His stomach churned the same it had that night- tight and hot and restless for something that he could not give it.

He lets out a whine- deep and guttural and full of frustration. Go away, he wants to yell at her. Go away before you ruin everything.

“Tommy…?” she asks again, not understanding his plea.

He whines again and it takes him a second to realize that he’s scratching at his arm- digging his fingers into the old scars there and agitating the skin. It hurts. But that pain is familiar and calming and helps him focus on something other than the panic rising in his throat.

She was messing it all up.

 It’s supposed to just be the four of them- Momma, Hoyt, Monty and him. It’s always been just the four of them. There wasn’t enough space here for her. She was too much of a change to get used to- too loud, too much. Even if he went and hid in the basement until Momma got tired of her, he knew that he would still be able to feel her through the walls, a choking weight in the air that would only poison him until he forgot what it was like to be ignored and cautious even in his own home. He’d be able to hear her- hear her laugh, her steps, the tiny little noises she would come to make the more time went on. She would fill this house with her until she soaked the walls and filled in the foundation. Until everyone forgot that she had a stranger at one point- a spontaneous good dead in all the bad they dealt in.

And even then- what would stop Hoyt from taking her to the room where almost all of the women ended up in? From the emptiness of their bellies that might make them remember that she wasn’t one of them- that she was the answer to their starvation?

He's sinking his nails in harder- the thin skin underneath breaks and he itches at the spot as if there was something alive and buzzing under the flesh. He doesn’t feel the pain as the blood begins to gather underneath his dirty nails. He can see it, even in the dim light- but he can’t feel it. Can’t stop. He digs and digs and digs, hoping for the thoughts to stop- for the voices to stop telling him that he had to kill her. That if he didn’t, he had to make sure that she never left- that this house swallowed her whole and kept her from running, from leaving them. Leaving him. If she tried to run, he could keep her in the furnace room; could tie her up and warn her that if she wasn’t good, she wouldn’t be able to stay.

He could be good to her. He would learn if he had to, would ask Momma to teach him to be gentle and kind. He would not make her angry, would not make her cry or scare her away as long as she listened to him. As long as she stayed with him.

He’s lost, stuck in the farthest corner of his mind, in a future that would stop existing if he simply reached out and touched her. All he had to do was cover her face with his hand, she would be too surprised to fight him off when he pressed her against the wall and kept her there-the weight of him against her back. He could already feel her as she squirmed against him- her body unable to stand still as her lungs began to burn. He could already feel her warmth through his clothes, feel the way his heart would race as she sank her fingers into his skin, drawing blood from fear and desperation. His fear would seep into her flesh, make her lash out more. Her pain would become his and they would be inseparable in that moment.

 It’s when he feels her- fingers cold and desperate as she prods and pulls at his arms, forcing them apart that he returns to reality- to the dimly lit hall, the heat of the fireplace already seeping through the cracks in the foundation. He can feel the way her arms tremble, her fingertips burning holes into his skin.

The woman’s eyes are wild when he looks at her, all wet and round- something in them, in the way she looks at him, makes his heart fill with lead- knocking against his ribs painfully.

“It’s okay!” she says, her voice panicked as she keeps repeating it over and over again, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself- or maybe she thinks that if she says it enough times it’d become true.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” she repeats, her eyes on his as she pulls his arms towards her. “We just have to get this cleaned up and it’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t budge when she tries to pull him towards the staircase- instead, he watches as she stumbles over her own feet, her hands sliding down his arms.

“We need to get this clean,” she’s pleading now, tugging at him to get him to move. “It’s going to get infected if we don’t and there’s no doctor in town anymore-” the more she talks, the more hysterical she begins to sound, her voice growing higher. “I don’t know where the bathroom is, but we can go down to the kitchen, Luda M-”

He doesn’t let her finish, easily pulling his uninjured arm free from her. He didn’t want Momma to know. To see the mess that he made of himself. She would yell at him if he was lucky- tell him that he was sick in the head, hurting himself like a damn fool again.  But he knew that Momma wouldn’t be kind like that- she would take one look at him, dripping blood on the floor and she would blame the woman for his pain.

He could already hear her yelling, the shrill sound bouncing through his head. Momma wouldn’t care to listen, to see anything other than what she wanted. Momma was like that- kind and sweet and quiet until someone was stupid enough to go after the family. He was like her in a way, protective of them all. He liked to think that he got it from her- that he couldn’t possibly be bad when Momma’s blood ran through him, sweet and caring.

He couldn’t let Momma find out. Not now- not when he had decided that the woman standing in front of him was worth more to him alive than chopped up into pieces that would fit into the deep freezer.

 With a grunt that shuts the woman up from her rambling, he grabs her arm. She’s soft and small under his touch- her sweater itching at his palm as he begins to pull her deeper into the hallway, into the darkness. Away from Momma. Away from a future he wanted no part in.

“No, Tommy we have to go downstairs. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice is shaky as she takes a couple steps forward before planting her feet and refusing to keep going. “Your mom might me better at this than me, please.” She pleads even as she begins to walk again when he refuses to stop.

He tries to tell her that Momma couldn’t find out. That if she did then he wouldn’t be able to protect her- to keep her safe. Momma would tell him to get rid of her and he always did what Momma wanted, even if sometimes he didn’t want to.

He loves Momma. Loves her more than Uncle Hoyt or Monty. He loves her more than anything or anyone- even himself. He could suffer through any pain as long as Momma was with him- as long as she was happy with him.

He tries to tell her that he knows exactly what he’s doing, but all his words come out as a garbled mess of a groan, the muscles in his throat too weak to form any actual words. It frustrates him- hearing himself talk in a way that no one would ever understand.

He lets out a low howl, that frustration growing when she stops walking again. He has to be careful not to hurt her- he didn’t want to accidentally pull her arm too hard if she was going to make this a habit. He just needed to get her to the bathroom. She had to wash off the blood on her hands before she went back downstairs. He could take care of his injuries himself- Momma had taught him how to clean and bandage cuts and bruises. Though he wasn’t concerned with the open wound dripping blood down his arm.

Right now, he needed to get the woman to understand that Momma couldn’t find out about this. That if she went down those steps, stained with his blood, then there was nothing he could do to keep Momma from lashing out. Facing her, he points to himself- finger beating against his chest twice before he points at her.

He’s watching her- his eyes on her as she watches him repeat the action two more times. Her face is flushed, her eyebrows pushed together, and he begins to worry that she’s not understanding him, that now that he’s let go of her, she was going to be stupid and try to push him back towards the stairs.

Letting out a small whimper, he grabs at her wrist. She’s pliant under his touch- her skin cool and soft. Touching her reminds him of the Cattle fences that were used back when the Slaughterhouse had been open. He had touched one by accident, not fully understanding why they had so many warnings signs- and just like back then, something hot and quick ran through him. Back then, the muscles in his fingers and arms had tensed and burned, taking away all his strength. But touching her, feeling the way his scarred thumb slid against the thin skin on her wrist- felt like a shockwave of warmth had run through him- intense and disorienting and addictive.

It scared him, but he didn’t let go of her even though his brain was yelling at him to stop touching her. He couldn’t. He had to keep her safe. Slowly, he began to raise her hand towards him, his mouth opening as he made a noise from the bottom of his throat.

He looked at her face as he pressed the back of her hand against his chest. She was already staring at him, her lips twisted into a frown. He couldn’t look into her eyes for too long, something in him ached when he did, so he kept his eyes on her mouth as he tapped her hand against his chest. That same warmth that was spreading through his arm poisoned his chest. He could feel it in his throat, in the depth of his belly- It knocked around in his head until he was dizzy.

For a moment, with her hand on him and his eyes still glued to her lips, he forgets about the bad people who called him all those bad words. He forgets all of the evil that he’s done, all the screams that haunt him, all the blood that he can never wash off.

He finds the confidence to raise his eyes to her own and part of him is scared that in them he would find disgust at having to touch something like him. A smaller, quieter, part wonders if she feels it too- the electricity that flows out of her and through him. He wants her to tell him that she feels him in her- that he’s also warm and electric through her veins. He wants her to tell him that a real monster wouldn’t feel the way he did- that if he really was a monster, the softness in her eyes wouldn’t be affecting him so much.

Dropping his eyes, he taps his chest with her hand twice before pointing it towards him. He does it one more time before he lets go of her. He expects her to pull her hand away, but instead she lets it linger on his shirt, the dirt and stains not bothering her. He wonders if she can feel the way his heart knocks against his ribs.

“You want me to follow you?” her voice cracks a bit as she takes her hand away.

He nods, grunting as he motions to a door off to the side behind him before he lifts his bloodied arm and runs his hand over the scratches- they’ve stopped bleeding already, his arm a mess of blood stains and dirt. Pointing behind here, towards the staircase he shakes his head, bringing his hand back towards his arm and covering the mess he made.

She doesn’t say anything as she tries to piece everything together- her face twisting into itself as she thinks. He repeats the movement, groaning when he points at the staircase and once more when he covers the cuts. ‘Not safe,’ he tries to tell her, ‘Take care of it here.’

Realization makes her eyes brighten, her features smoothing out. “You don’t want Luda Mae to find out?”

It’s not exactly what he was trying to say but he lets it be, seeing as it was close enough. She could have thought that he wanted her to go down and grab Momma- and he was worried that with how small she was she would take off running before he could stop her. In trying to help she would run straight into her end.

The thought made his stomach drop- a sudden chill rocking through him.

“Tommy- I don’t know if I can do anything about that…” she pauses, and he watches as she reaches for him, taking his arm in both of her hands. Her touch burns him again, and this time he can’t stop the small whine of delight from escaping his lips. Her mouth twists down as she inspects his arm- and he tenses, waiting for her to start yelling at him, for the bad names to come. But they don’t- she stays silent, her eyes glued to his arm.

The damage isn’t bad- compared to the collection of scars that line both of his arms, this was nothing. He had scratched a small hole in his forearm- breaking the skin and tearing apart the bit of muscle and fat there. He was lucky that he hadn’t hit anything vital- that he had stopped when he did.

When he was younger, he had taken to cutting- tearing flesh from his body and slicing himself open as a punishment for his mistakes, for his bad thoughts. He had done a good job of keeping it from Momma until the night he had cut too deep, and the blood wouldn’t stop. He had ran to her, howling in fear- bloody arm pressed against his chest. She had made Uncle Monty hold him down while she stitched him together, only a glass of whiskey to keep the pain away. She had yelled at him the entire time-first with tears in her eyes then when they had dried up and she had finished sewing his skin together- she had taken the belt and beaten him raw. When she got tired of beating him, she had told him that this was all Satan’s fault- that she had no choice but to beat the devil out of him. God was gonna soothe his pain, his fears, his anguish. He would see, Momma liked to say. She had kissed him on the forehead, and he swore he had seen the devil on her shoulder, laughing at him.

The pain hadn’t convinced him to stop- he simply learned how to hide it better, how to keep things clean, how to stitch himself together on those nights that he fantasized about finding peace in death. He learned where to cut and how deep to dig- and eventually, Momma made herself forget it ever happened at all. Sometimes, he thought that she was afraid of God- of making him angry, of him turning his back on her. It’s why he didn’t tell her that every once in a while, he could feel the devil itself pumping through his veins. Taunting him.

The woman gently turns his arm, and he pulls himself from the memories, watching as her fingers caress his skin. She’s too trusting- doesn’t she see the danger that she’s in? How easily he could overpower her? This was a Godless house, no matter what Momma and Hoyt thought- he knew the truth. He knew that they were all rotten, inside and out. She would be ruined by them all if she stayed. He would ruin her with his sins-but his guilt wasn’t strong enough to stop his desires.

“It looks a lot worse than it is, doesn’t it?” she asks him, but he doesn’t answer- too busy watching the way she touches him- her touch making his breath deepen.

He likes the way she doesn’t mind that his blood is on her hands- twisted into the tiny cracks of her bracelet. She’s careful and slow as she traces the tip of her index finger above the crater he had created in his flesh. He’s almost tempted to push her hand down- to feel her flesh against the inside of his own, to have her hurt him before he could hurt her- but she moves her hand away before he can make up his mind.

“Okay…” she sighs, not letting go of him. “Show me what to do.”

He grunts in satisfaction, the weight of Momma finding out and the woman being punished lifting from his shoulders. Slowly, he turns the arm she cradled in her hands so that he was grabbing her instead- his hand swallowing hers.

He tries not to think about it too much as he tugs gently and finds no resistance in her steps. He almost smiles- lip twitching against the leather on his face as he leads her to the bathroom. Inside him, the devil starts to dance in glee.

The room is cold as he pushes open the door and pulls her inside before he follows. He can feel the cold seep into his thin shirt, see it with every exhale when he turns on the light and shuts the door, dropping the woman’s hand. She shivers and he wants to know if it’s from the cold or the fact that he’s no longer touching her.

The light flickers and dies for a couple seconds, leaving them in darkness before it turns back on- low and yellow like all the others in the house. It makes the woman’s skin look sickly- washing her out as she blinks and tries to get used to the light.

“We have to clean it,” she’s already walking around him, towards the sink. It’s a small one, too low for him to reach without having to bend his knees uncomfortably. Maybe that’s why she pauses mid-sentence- was she trying to picture him, hunched over as he scrubbed the dirt and blood and sweat from his arms?

The thought of her thinking about him- caring about him- splits him in two, a feeling that he’s never experienced before.

“Where are the towels?” she asks, turning around to face him. “If we lay some down on the floor it should keep the mess down a bit, right?”

He doesn’t tell her that it’s not a good idea- that a pile of soaking towels would raise questions that need to stay buried instead. So, he shakes his head, already closing the small distance between them.

The bathroom is small- all of them are. The tiles on the walls are a faded green color, some of them cracked- some of them are separated by mold- the caulk so old and weathered by age and neglect. He hopes that she doesn’t see them- his blood warming in embarrassment as he tells himself that he would fix them later, before she realized that this house was falling apart right under their feet.

The toilet and sink and the bathtub are old- not quite as stained, but still the same faded shade as the tiles that surrounded them. Under the harsh yellow light, it all looked a mess. At least it wasn’t like Hoyt’s bathroom- with too many colors and carpet all over the floors that trapped the smell of tobacco and sweat and soap, the steam that seemed to linger and stick to the walls doing nothing to lessen the stench.

He’s careful as he walks around her- suddenly aware of just how close they were. In here, with the door closed, being near to her seemed almost intimate in a way that he could not quite grasp.

He was used to being alone with people- usually they were screaming and begging, or already half-dead, delirious and confused from the pain and the blood loss. He was used to them thrashing and running and fighting back- hitting him with their fists, kicking him, throwing whatever they managed to get ahold of. They would always scare him when they did that- the pain eventually making him mad until he lashed out and hurt them on purpose.

They didn’t seem to understand that he didn’t want to make them suffer- that he was being kind- taking their lives quickly so that they didn’t have to be so afraid.

He was used to the screaming, the name calling- no matter how scared or afraid he got, he always knew how it would end.

With the woman, he had touched her- she had touched him- without screaming, without her begging or flinching or trying to run away. Out in the hall there had been enough space for him if he needed to get away, but here it was just the two of them- existing in a space that no one else seemed to belong in.

It terrified him just as much as it thrilled him. It made him feel the same way as when he had to chased down someone that had slipped out of his hold- but this time his mind wasn’t telling him to kill. This time, as he stood besides the woman, her eyes on him as he turned on the faucet and waited for the water to warm, something inside of him was telling him to chase her down in a completely different way- to keep her at his side.

Even if he had to chain her and train her- he did not want her to leave. He would not let her leave.

He remembers when he had first started at the Slaughterhouse, when he had been put to work with the cows- separating the babies from the mothers as soon as they were born. He would take them- carefully scooping them up in his arms, a child at the time, not knowing better, not knowing what it was that he was doing- and carry them to another part of the barn where he would drop them into cages so small that even he couldn’t fit inside.

They would cry and shake, unable to stand, unable to realize what lay ahead of them. He would feed them scraps he had stolen from the feeding center- oats or barley or even handfuls of grass from outside- shoving his hand through and letting them eat from his hand. They would calm down, even though they could not stand fully- their heads hunched over and pressed against the metal. He would show them that even if they weren’t going to live long- even if the world around them didn’t seem to care for them- they weren’t alone.

She did not have to be caged like them- though if he had to, he would keep her locked up if it meant keeping her beside him. Down in the basement where no one would hear her- where no one would disturb them, he would get her to see that he was a kind man, that he only wanted what was best for her.

She was already so much like the calves from back then- stupid and small and too trusting of him. It wouldn’t be hard to break her, to convince her that it was all her fault- that there was nothing left for her outside this home.

When the water heats up- steam rising and filling his lungs- he runs his fingers under the stream. Dirt and blood stain the sink, the hot water turning his fingers pink. It hurts, but not enough for him to stop. He rubs his hands together, the water turning pink as it drains. He can feel her eyes on him as he scrubs the grains of dirt from his skin.

For some reason, it embarrasses him- having her watch him do something so mundane and ordinary. He almost swore that he could feel the warmth from her eyes on his skin- hotter than the water. It makes the simple task suddenly seem foolish, makes him feel as if this was the first time he was doing it and he wasn’t sure if it was right or wrong.

With a grunt he tries to push the thoughts from his mind- cupping his hand and filling it with water before he splashes it onto his arm, onto the wound he had given himself. It makes a mess- water splashing onto his rolled sleeve and onto the floor, the sink too small to prevent the mess.

“Can I?” she says- and she’s suddenly closer than he had thought, her body pressed against his side. He can feel her through his shirt, through the thick fabric of her sweater. He swears that he can feel the softness of her body, the beating of her heart, the blood rushing through her veins on his very skin. It makes his heart leap into his throat- the sudden touch making him want to push her head into the glass of the medicine cabinet or pull her closer- he wasn’t sure which one he wanted to do most.

He stands still, body tense as she reaches for him, grabbing his arm and lifting it closer. She must have found the linen closet- an old, red washcloth in her other hand which she places underneath the running water. She hisses, pulling her hand away and opens the cold water.

“Doesn’t that hurt you?” she asks- and there’s no anger in her voice, no underlying judgement that has him tensing up, muscles rippling with dread that he had done something wrong. Momma liked to talk to him like that sometimes. She liked to ask questions that made him feel bad, that made him regret coming to her- guilty that he had bothered her. Hurt that she saw him as something bothersome.

He shakes his head, his way of telling her that no, it wasn’t hurting him. If he had a voice, he would tell her that his skin is so damaged that he could barely feel it, that some days he even preferred it- he liked the way his skin turned red and pulsed in a way that was almost comfortable, soothing.

“This will feel much better,” she holds her fingers under the water, and once it’s at a comfortable temperature she lets it run over the washcloth. “Tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?”

He nods sharply and she smiles at him- the corners of her mouth lifting. He expects her to rub the wound directly, desperate to clean it off before infection sets in. Instead, to his surprise, she wipes around the length of it- scrubbing gently at the blood matting the hair on his arm. The hand holding his arm is gentle, her fingers sinking into his soft flesh and holding him still.

He watches her- watches the concentration on her face that has her eyebrows knitted together as she wipes and rinses, repeating those two motions over and over and over again until his skin is cleaner- until the dirt is gone and there’s nothing left to hide the many sins he carried on his skin.

She pauses- and he can almost read her mind at that moment. He can see it in the tension in her wrist, feel it in the way her fingers tremble just a fraction of a second before they dig a little deeper into his arm. The feeling of her nails scratching at him isn’t painful, but it startles him just the same as if it were- a warmth growing in his chest that travels down to his belly and pools there- filling him with a different sort of sin.

He expects her to say something about the hundreds of tiny little cuts and bruises that she’s unearthed- he can feel it hang heavy in the air- his lips tingling from anticipation. From the worry that she would open her mouth and ruin it all.

It would either be disgust or pity- and he wanted neither. The scars were his to carry- his own punishment for his terrible deeds. Uncle Hoyt always cringed and acted like he didn’t see them- even though his mouth and face twisted as if he had eaten something sour. The pity always came from Momma- her hands on his as she prayed to God to take away whatever burdens he seemed to be carrying around in his heart. She wouldn’t touch them- maybe out of fear, or anger, or maybe just like Uncle Hoyt, she was disgusted as well- scared that if she touched the scars, they would somehow ruin her as well.

The corners of the woman’s mouth are still twisted down when she glances up at him- her eyes too dark to read. He wonders what he looks like in her eyes- what is it that she sees in him that no one else seems to see?

He waits for her to talk- to break the tense silence that’s choking him- but she doesn’t say a word, dropping her eyes as she picks up the bar of soap that’s been there for months. It almost slips out of her hand, and she lets go of him completely- his arm frozen in place, his body already missing hers. The tension disappears, as if nothing had ever happened, as if it had never been there to begin with. It rolls from the points of pressure that she had left behind on his flesh and up his arms. It moves in his veins, thick and syrupy- coating all of him in a feeling that’s doesn’t sit right.

Maybe he did want her to speak- to pity him after all. But the moment is gone, and he doesn’t have a voice to bring it back- to tell her what he was feeling, so he lets the discomfort drown him just a bit as he watches her act like nothing wrong had happened.

She rubs the bar between her hands, underneath the stream of water and his heart sinks at the thought of her cleaning all traces of him from her skin- he wanted to coat her in all that he was- his scent, his hatred, the bitter taste in his mouth that never seemed to go away- he wanted her to have it all, to carry him even if they were apart for a split second. An extension of him- equally as fearsome.

“Come here,” she motions for him to bring his arm towards her hands, letting the bar fall into the sink. Her hands are covered in soap as she takes his arm in between them- gently scrubbing from his wrist to the inside of his elbow, where his rolled-up sleeve sat. At first, she doesn’t touch the wound- and he can feel the hesitation in her fingers as she scrubs at his arm, circling around it. She scrubs at his skin, at the spaces between his fingers, taking his hand in her own and gently massaging it.

It's the first time anyone has done something like that to him- and while he can’t understand why she was being so thorough when it would have been easier to just hand him the soap and let him do it, he has no intention of stopping her.

He simply watches and enjoys- his mouth twisted into the closest thing of a smile that he could manage underneath his mask.

“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” she says quietly, and it takes him a second to understand her words, his mind lost even to himself- her fingers lightly press against the cut as she speaks, drawing him back into reality. He tenses as she begins to clean it out, rubbing soapy water into it. It doesn’t hurt- not with how light and slow she moves her hand, her finger dipping into the hole he had scratched open. He expects it to hurt or sting or startle him- but pain doesn’t come. Instead, he groans in delight- enjoying the way her finger seems to be tearing into him, stretching his skin open. It’s like she’s making space for herself inside of him- forcing herself into the parts of him that held him together, sinew and muscle and blood- now poisoned with whatever sickness the woman had inflicted in his heart.

“Sorry!” she says quickly, pulling her hand away from him. The once white bubbles between her fingers are now a soft shade of pink, mixed with his blood. It all disappears down the drain as she rinses her hand, drying them on the front of her jeans.

He grows frustrated at the fact that there’s no way to tell her that she hadn’t hurt him- that he wanted her to do it again. That the pain she caused him was almost addictive- sweeter than the whiskey Uncle Monty sometimes let him have whenever he was in a good enough mood to share.

The woman motions for him to rinse his arm, already cupping her hands together under the faucet and letting the cool water pool between her hands. He angles his arm awkwardly into the sink and she lets the water trickle from between her fingers over his arm slowly. He watches as she repeats the motion, rinsing his arm- it’s so trivial and boring, yet he’s in awe as she takes care of him.

Without a second thought, the woman is already devoting herself to the mundanity of life with him. He could see it as she turns the water off and tells him to wait- as if he would leave her side, as if he could do something so absolutely stupid- subjecting himself to an agony he had no intention of experiencing firsthand.

He hears the closet door open behind him, making him turn around and look at the woman as she rummages through old fitted blankets, washcloths and towels until she finds what she needs. With one hand pressed against the pile of folded towels she pulls one free, tossing it over her arm. “I don’t know how long this has been here for-” as she talks, she moves onto her toes, stretching her arm out as she reaches for something on one of the top shelves.

He almost moves to help her, his body already swaying in place, eager to move, to make himself useful to the woman. But he spends too long trying to decide- her hand closing around whatever it was that she had seen earlier. She lets out a small noise of delight as she drops down to the balls of her feet, and it wracks through him, sending a shiver of warmth up his spine that spreads across his chest- tightening the muscles in his lower belly.

“Expired medicine and antibiotics are better than nothing, right?” She asks as he turns and faces him- lips curved up into a smile and he almost finds himself mimicking it- the corners of his lips twitching. He catches himself, hot embarrassment forcing his eyes to drop from her face- down to the small plastic medicine bin in her hands. It did not matter that he had his mask to hide behind, the way she looked at him made him feel as if she could somehow see through it- his face exposed for whatever ridicule and insults she would eventually throw at him.

 There are bottles of pills stacked on top of one another- the type that Momma used to give him when he was feverish. It would take his sickness as well as his hunger- leaving him too heavy to do anything but lay in bed until the heat of his body burned through the drug. There are other things as well- gauze and bandages, silver packages of pills he couldn’t identify, the label worn off a long time ago- a bottle of Vaseline, faded from the years sits next to a glass jar of Vapor-Rub. Looking at it, he swears that he can smell it even with how far away from the jar he was- even though his nose hasn’t worked properly for months, he feels the ghost of it wrinkle as he cringes from the offensive smell his mind reminds him of.

Momma used to slather him with it when he had first started working at the Slaughterhouse. He hadn’t been used to the smell of it back then and every day he went back had been miserable. The scent of death and blood and shit had soured his stomach until he had gone and thrown up the oatmeal Momma had made for breakfast all over his worktable. All over the slab of meat he had been told to break down. He can still remember the taste of animal blood on his tongue after he had wiped his mouth- forgetting that his hands and arms and chest had been covered in chunks of offal. His boss had called him every bad word under the sun-some were words that he had never heard before, now fully engrained in his mind, tearing at his heart once Monty had told him what they meant.

When he had gone home that night, after scrubbing his station clean- the blood mixing with his waste underneath his nails, in the strands of his hair and in between the cracks of his boots, Momma had slapped him. She had been waiting for him on the porch, her face twisted down in anger, the blue of her eyes dark and cold behind her glasses.

She had called him a great big idiot- uncaring of how dirty he had been, of how hard he had silently prayed to God for the day to hurry up and end so that he could leave and go home. At one point, when the bell for Lunch had rung and he was forced to stay and catch up to everyone else- his boss throwing what Momma had packed for him in the garbage before spitting on it with a laugh- he had wanted to die, his chest burning every single time he brought the cleaver down. He had wanted to die right then and there- to stop existing all together. To be nothing but the air around him- free from the bad people, from the stares, from feeling like all that he did was somehow inherently wrong. No matter if it was an accident or not, no one ever seemed to care enough to listen to him.

Momma had gotten a call from the Slaughterhouse- telling her that because of his careless mistake he would have to be let go. Momma had told him, as she dragged him to the hose out back, that she had begged and begged and begged for them to give him a second chance. They couldn’t lose his income, not with Uncle Monty getting less hours at his job and the Government cutting Uncle Hoyt’s veteran checks so suddenly. They were barely making ends meet as it was- this would ruin them.

She had yelled and shouted, spraying him with cold water until he was a shivering mess, the blood no longer crusted over on his skin. He could feel the cold water pooling in his boots, making his socks stick to his toes. It hadn’t even mattered to him then, his heart hammering away at his chest at the thought of never having to go back. Of not having to wake up so early to walk all the way to the other side of town in a place that he hated.

He didn’t even mind when Momma had beat him, welts forming on his wet skin from the belt she kept exclusively for punishments. The pain was nothing in comparison to when Momma had told him that she had made sure that he had kept his job.

They were going to cut his pay, a little every check, until he paid off the cost of the half cow he had puked all over. But he still had a job, he was still able to help the family out- wasn’t that good? Momma asked him, smiling at him like she hadn’t just beat him tired.

 Momma warned him that he couldn’t mess this up again. That there were no more chances after this- sending him up to his room with no dinner, his stomach already empty and rubbing against itself.

The morning after, when she had woken him up- his body sore from all the walking that he had done and the bruises forming on his back and legs- Momma had twisted open the jar of Vapor-rub for the first time, filling his room with the slightly sweet- minty smell.

She had bought it last night, right before the shop closed- with the bit of lose change she had managed to scrap together. It’s gonna help you from making another mistake she said right before she shoved a finger full of it into his nose. It was thick, and cold, burning the inside of his nose as he moaned in pain, trying to push Momma away before she shoved more into the other nostril. She had smacked his hand away, telling him that this was for his own good. That this was only until he got used to it.

He had moaned as tears began to form, shaking his head- trying to empty his nose, the burning crawling up into his head and making his eyes water painfully. Every inhale he took through his mouth burned its way to his lungs. Momma only slapped him again- telling him that this was his fault. That he had to do this for the family.

“You’re so selfish Thomas!” she shouted at him, holding his jaw and shoving another finger into his empty nostril. “There’s no room for useless boys in this house, do you understand?”

He couldn’t remember anything after that. His memories about that day lost to the pain he had put himself through. He remembers bits and pieces- the hunger. The burning. The anger.

He always seemed to remember the anger. Flashing through him- hot and cold, boiling his blood.

Something outside of his thoughts rattle and he’s once more standing in the bathroom, a man three times the size of the child that he had once been. Beside him, the woman had set the medicine bin on top of the toilet tank and was rummaging through it- the source of the noise that had brought him back.

He’s tense, the muscles in his neck thick and tight. He doesn’t like how he seemed to live more in his memories- constantly remembering all the things that he just wanted to forget. He didn’t want to remember, to be reminded of the pain he carried.

The woman glances at him, holding a small yellow squeeze tube and a roll of self-adhesive medical tape in one hand. Their eyes meet and she smiles at him, even though he can feel the way his face is twisted down into a scowl- his eyebrows heavy over his eyes.

He doesn’t mean to glare at her- to make her smile falter slightly as her eyes widen just a fraction. He could almost see himself in her eyes and he doesn’t like the him that he imagines. Large and imposing- a thing that only knows how to hurt, how to cause fear. He waits for the woman to realize her mistake- to realize that she was trapped in a small room with a monster.

“Give me your arm?” she asks him, holding out her right hand. “Let’s get you all wrapped up, okay?” her smile is still small, and he can see the wariness in her eyes, but when he places his arm in her hand she doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t rush him- wanting to get this over with.

She pulls him towards her instead, slender fingers wrapping around his forearm as much as possible. She tugs, and he moves- lightweight in her hold.

He’s aware of the muscles in his face- of how, even if he’s partially hidden behind his mask, his face sits. He makes himself relax- something that comes easy with the warmth of her hand on his body, easing the tension that he still carried from his memories. Her touch burned into him, filled him until he swore that he could feel her in his blood- pumping through his heart.

Her eyes don’t leave his as she pulls him closer, and motions with her head for him to sit down on the toilet. “It’ll be easier, that way you don’t have to keep your arm in the air.” She explains, shuffling out of the way to make space for him.

Underneath his weight, the toilet squeaks and shifts as he does as told, awkwardly sitting down. She’s taller than him like this, his head at the same level with her chest, making him have to tilt his head back just a bit to meet her eyes.

Her smile had grown in the time he had looked away- and he can’t help the heat that spreads across his face, his ears growing hot. Could she feel it? The warmth that she caused him? The uneasiness thrumming through him that had the tips of his fingers aching to touch her? To hold her like she held him?

“Can you hold this?” she asks, already dropping something into his expecting hand. It had been resting on his lap, calloused covered palm open and waiting- a beggar’s pose. The ointment and tape weren’t what he had been waiting for, but he takes them, closing his thick fingers around them.

What he didn’t expect was for her to lean over him with a mumbled “sorry”, her hand falling onto his shoulder as she reached for something behind him- inside of the medicine bin.

He doesn’t know what to do- his body freezing underneath hers as her neck grazes his mask covered face. It doesn’t last long- maybe a fraction of a second before she’s pulling away and dropping the hand from his shoulder, but it was enough.

Enough for him to inhale the light scent of her- woodsy and sweet and nutty- just the smallest hint of sweat underneath that. It reminded him of the baked goods Momma used to make for him on his birthday when he was small. It was comforting in the same way that it twisted his stomach with the pain of remembering something that used to make him so happy, something that had been taken from him so abruptly once Momma decided that he was too big to celebrate his birthday. Too old to be cared for.

The woman had been so close that he swore that he could almost hear the blood pounding through her veins. He had almost been tempted to turn his head and feel its pulse with his lips. To scratch her skin with his mask- the scent of her tainting it the same way it has already ruined his senses.

He could picture it- his teeth sinking into the warm and thin flesh she had so stupidly given him access to. It was almost scary- the way his mouth began to water at the thought of her blood on his tongue, raw flesh between his teeth. He wanted to fill his belly with it- to make her a part of him in a way that no one could take from him.

Would she taste as sweet as she smelled?

He swallowed down saliva, clearing the bad thoughts from his mind- scared that if he kept focusing on them, he would do something that he didn’t really want to do.  Something that he wouldn’t be able to take back, no matter how hard he begged and prayed and tried to undo.

He didn’t want to hurt her right now. No matter how hard his mind was telling him to do it- replaying all of the times that he could have done so. Showing him all of the ways that he still could.

He feels ashamed of his thoughts, of the temptation that he was barely keeping at bay- and finds himself unable to look at the woman as she rips open a piece of plastic, tossing it in the garbage can between the toilet and the sink. He keeps his eyes on the space between his legs, on her beat-up boots as she stands in front of him- sweet and unaware of what a horrible person he truly was. Of all that he was struggling to not do to her.

“Do you think Luda Mae is getting suspicious?”

The question startles him, reminding him of the world outside of the bathroom, outside of the woman in front of him.

“She’s probably thinking I ran away; don’t you think?” the woman’s laugh is small, feathery light. He doesn’t know how to answer- not knowing how long they had been up here. There was a possibility that Momma had grown suspicious, or maybe she thought that he had snapped and taken care of her in the only way that he knew how.

Vaguely, he shakes his head. Whether it’s to disagree with her or to tell her that he wasn’t sure- he let’s her decide on which one he’s trying to communicate. If Momma had been concerned, she would have come upstairs to check on her already, so he wasn’t too worried. He shrugs, and her laughter fills his ears again.

“Right. If you’re not worried, then I won’t be either. I just don’t want her to think that I’ve been a horrible guest- running off in the middle of helping her with dinner.”

He shakes his head again and this time its to reassure her that Momma wouldn’t think that. At least he hoped that she wouldn’t. The thought of Momma angry at the woman made his chest burn uncomfortably. An ache that slithered in the tight spaces between his ribs- hot and uneasy in its slickness.

“Well, what’s done is done, lets just get your arm bandaged. I might need your help facing her again.” The woman likes to talk with a smile, he’s noticed. It was as if her mouth had no other way to rest- the corners turned up towards the heavens, towards her eyes that liked to seek him out- unafraid of what she saw, of what others liked to look away from.

He wondered if she was joking- if she was just talking in order to fill the silence. He knew people who did that- people like Hoyt and his old boss at the Slaughterhouse, who had to keep their mouths moving or they would stop existing all together. He liked to think that if he had a voice, he would be like that too- not quite as annoying, but loud enough that people were forced to look at him, to listen to what he had to say.

He would tell the woman that he would keep her safe. That he wanted to go down with her and show Momma that she had done nothing wrong. That if anyone was to blame, it was him. It was his fault that she had stayed away for so long. He would hide her away from Momma’s anger- keep her tucked behind him- safe.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t sure that he wanted her to leave just yet. They could stay here a little longer- everything behind that door non-existent. He could make believe that Momma was still at work, busy with too many customers- outsiders who were just passing by, headed for more than the meat hooks in the basement of this house. That for a bit his uncle’s Monty and Hoyt didn’t exist. That the world was just for him and her.

That would be enough for him. He was almost tempted to ask God- to check and see if he was still paying attention to him after all that he had done.

The woman moves from in front of him and takes a seat on the edge of the tub, her knees rubbing against the outside of his thigh as she grabs his arm and places it on her lap. He can feel the buckle of her belt against his knuckles- his arm suddenly a solid weight as he feels the warmth that radiates from the space between her thighs.

 It crawls along his skin- up to his shoulder and through the space in his chest. It reminds him of the times that he’s stayed in one spot for too long, his limbs falling asleep. Though there was no uncomfortable pain this time- Instead it felt like a million little bugs were crawling around inside of him- a buzzing under his skin that he was unused to, but not disgusted by. It was something that maybe he could get used to.

It settles in his belly- thick and heavy and hot, stirring awake thoughts that felt too uncomfortable to focus on. Shamefully, he raises his eyes from the woman’s lap, trying to think of something other than the way her jeans clung to her thighs or how close his fingers were to the space between her legs- somehow hotter than the rest of her, the back of his hand burning pleasantly. He wanted to keep it there- to soak all of himself in her warmth until he knew nothing more.

He pushes the indecent thoughts from his mind, suddenly growing paranoid that the woman would find out what he was thinking about her. He didn’t want her to think that he was disgusting. Rotten just like Uncle Hoyt, who was obsessed with playing with their food.

“Is this uncomfortable for you, Tommy?” maybe it was because the silence had gone on for too long, but the woman whispers her question- her voice only for him, distracting him slightly as she reaches for the things she had given him, plucking them from his hand before he even had a chance to register the movement- her hand too fast that he barely feels the way her fingers skim his palm.

She’s already twisted open the bottle of ointment by the time he shakes his head- the cap balancing on the edge of her knee. With a hum she nods- her eyes focused on her own hands even though he wants her to look at him again. He wanted her to ask him more questions- her voice tender and sweet whenever she spoke to him. He wanted her to distract him for his thoughts that liked to pull him away from her- and right now he wanted to stay right here, to not miss a single moment.

The ointment is cold against his skin- the woman squeezing a light amount right above the wound. He can feel it cleansing away all of his wickedness- her finger swiping at it until it’s in the deepest layer of his flesh, leaving nothing behind but an oily residue that coated her thumb. Without a pause she sticks a piece of gauze on top- taping it up until the gauze is well hidden under flesh colored medical tape.

He had found it in the pocket of one of the first of Uncle Hoyt’s guests- setting it aside for Momma along all of the jewelry he had collected. Maybe it was for a reason that he had second guessed his decision to throw it away. Maybe that had been a sign from above that you were on your way- that God hadn’t abandoned them after all.

The woman is gentle as she pats the covered wound and leans back a bit to meet his expectant eyes. What does she see in them- in him- that makes her look at him so sweetly?

“You’re all set. How’s it feeling? It’s not too tight, is it?”

[perrywrites]

Aaaaahhhhhh!!!! Your writings are so good! Can I ask for Ness, Kunigami, and Nagi to fill out the roster for the “mumbling ‘i want you inside me’” blurbs you got going on? If you’re not too busy of course! Idk which characters exactly you write for tho so it’s cool if you forego Ness or smth

YES, I was already writing Shidou, so I wrote Nagi and Kunigami with him as well. The cutie Ness will have to wait his turn (if there is one, I'll see if I'm inspired) 😞😞😞 BUT ALSO, having Kunigami and Shidou on one list feels illegal and wrong ngl LOLOL, thank you so much for liking my writing 🥺🥺🥺

Absentmindedly murmuring that you want him inside of you during practice part 4;

NSFW 

Includes; Nagi, Kunigami, Shidou

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 2 (Chigiri, Reo) and part 3 (Barou, Kaiser) and part 5 (Sae, Rin, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya)

Nagi: he only knows you’re here when Reo elbows him, telling him that you’re here, except this time Reo is snickering in a way that confuses him. Why is he laughing? What’s so funny about you being here? Nevertheless, unanswered questions fading away in his head, he turns to see you across the field, and he waves at you - but there’s something weird about you. Although you wave back, like you would usually do, it’s not an energetic kind of wave. It’s more lethargic, hand barely raised, and something about you seems like you’re not really there. Right now you kind of seem like the zombies he shoots in his games. Concerned and confused, he blinks at your weird behaviour, but he saves it until his break. The moment he gets his chance, he’s making his way over to you, but the closer he gets to you, the more… confused he starts to feel; your state doesn’t seem as similar to a zombie’s as he initially thought. You’re certainly seeing him, that’s for sure, but your eyes are weird. They’re all opaque and dazed, as if you’re delirious from a fever of sorts. He doesn’t know why, but something about your glassy eyes makes him antsy. “... You there?” And it’s when your dreamy smile widens, your head tilting, that he realizes even before the words leave your mouth exactly what is up with you. Ah, so that’s it. You need him right now. That’s what those eyes are for, yes, he remembers. That’s how you look up at him sometimes when he’s trying to get you into bed. Except, you’ve never said the kind of thing you just said, and those sultry words send heat straight down to his cock. Something in that breathy tone of yours tugs at his heart and he becomes restless. What are you doing to him? He shifts on his feet slightly. You can’t do this to him right now. Not right now. Don’t look at him like that right now, it’s making him think of you in a way that’s going to make going back to practice really hard - pun intended. The only kind of thoughts that are sitting in his head now are all images of him making you cry on his cock, using that pussy of yours until you pass out, pounding away until your voice is ruined. And, ah, shit, well. He can no longer deny himself, it’s too hard to resist this urge and go back to practice. So when Reo comes to tell him that practice is about to start, all he mutters is a quiet “sorry Reo” before he grabs you by the arm and drags you off somewhere. You’re the one that started this, you can take responsibility by letting him go as many times as he wants, right? 

Shidou: the moment he catches that hazy gaze of yours, he’s busting his ass laughing right on the field, yelling to his teammates something about how he’s eager to score even harder with his girl looking all cute for him. Rin is the one that tells him to shut up - both of them somehow seem destined to stick together, joining the same exact league, both bemoaning their misfortune. All Shidou does is almost start a fight, taunting Rin back in response, telling him that if he’s so jealous he should stop being loveless and go get with someone already so he can hop off of Shidou’s dick already. Of course, the rest of their teammates and coach have to get involved to calm both of their asses down, and so there’s an unplanned break. Immediately, first things first, he heads over to you, all amused, noting how you’re still looking at him like that, all lovesick and yearning. Shit, damn, you’re gonna make him catch a public indecency case. “Shit sweetheart, you’re looking like you want to milk my cock, huh? Want me to bust my load inside of you or something?” Turns out, that’s exactly what you wanted, because you say that - say that you want him inside of you. Well then, he didn’t expect that - usually in the face of his desire (for you, you, only you), you had a tendency to be a bit more shy. That was nice, getting to tease you and watch you get flustered, then have you make all of those lewd sounds and faces for him - but… There was something about you being all bold and blunt like this about wanting him to fuck you that got his blood pumping. It made him want to go the extra mile in fucking you - even though he already always goes full out when fucking you -  try out new positions and breed you in each and every single one, shoot his burning hot cum right into your womb as he holds you down and your perfect pussy flutters around his cock again and again. He won’t even take his cock out this time, leave it in until he gets hard enough to fuck you again and again and again - he’ll give it all to you, he’ll get you fucking pregnant, fuck his cum into you until he’s sure of conception, shit. You want that, don’t you? Just the same as him, yeah? Of course you do, you’re just as much of a fucking pervert as him. So within a moment of you saying something that hot, he has already made the decision of pumping his seed into you right then and there. That’s why he immediately picks you up, throwing you onto his shoulder and you yelp - confused and disoriented as he starts carrying you off, warning everyone to not enter the showers for the next hour or so unless they want to hear him giving it to you good. Rin scoffs from the side, glaring, saying something about practice, but Shidou laughs, having none of it. “Fuck off virgin eyelashes, impregnating my girl takes priority~” You hear Rin muttering something about him not being a virgin beneath his breath, but that’s no longer your concern. You’ve lent fuel to a forest fire and now it’s going to burn through the whole country, don’t think you can walk after how hard he fucks you. After all, Shidou Ryusei loves invitations, especially if it’s the kind you give. Although, your biggest concern soon will definitely be how you’re going to face the rest of his teammates after they inevitably hear all those raunchy sounds you’re 100% sure Shidou will make sure you’re unable to suppress...

Kunigami: although he’s not exactly an oblivious guy, he’s not exactly the most conscious guy either when it comes to this kind of stuff. He never really knew when a girl crushed on him or swooned over his gentlemanly behaviour up until he got a confession. That still holds true even now, but you’re not exactly ever ‘subtle’ - case in point, those very obvious bedroom eyes you’re giving him at the moment. He feels his ears burn, face warm - not because of physical exertion - as he tries to ignore your eyes absolutely burning through his back. Why are you looking at him like that right now? Are you even aware of the kind of dreamy expression you’re making? You don’t seem like it. God, you’re distracting him, completely. The things he’d do to be alone with you right now - goddammit, he feels like a pervert now. When his break arrives and he goes over to you, the fervent blush only deepens - you’re still looking at him like you want him to claim you, eyes all hooded and dazed, pouty lips parted open. “Hey…” He curses himself for his awkwardness even with his own girlfriend, keeping his eyes averted from you as he rubs the back of his neck. “… You good?” Is that all he can say? Really? Wow, great going Kunigami, what a great job. But before he can berate himself any further for his awkwardness - he’s always a little shy when it comes to the more intimate side of your relationship - you say something that has him sputtering, eyes wide as he looks at you. Did you - did you really just say that? The way your lips twitch up into a small smile is enough of a confirmation, and he feels his heart beat intensely beneath his broad ribcage. How do you - how do you just… say things like that. “You… You sure do love to tease me, huh…?” And then he falls silent, shifting on his leg as you giggle lightly at his words, the sound of your voice making him shiver slightly now. Do you even know what you do to him? How you make him want to push your legs up right into your chest and just pound away? Fuck you into the bed as you cry out his name? Claim you, over and over again, make you sore and exhausted as he uses your body until you’re full of his cum. Fuck, god. He should be thinking of kicking balls right now, scoring goals, but instead his head grows empty and blood rushes down to the wrong head. Why are you like this? Why do you do this to him? He curses beneath his breath, willing the wrong head to go back to sleep, and he catches you staring at the bulge all yearningly and - ah fuck, he can’t play like this. He grabs your hand and pulls you up. You’re coming with him and helping him deal with the ‘problem’ you caused, okay? Hopefully he can get a quick round in before the break finishes, or well, if he can’t… He might as well fuck you for as long as he pleases.

Also I finally realized there's a character limit per block thingy LMFAO, I couldn't figure out what was the problem the last two times and just did 2 characters I'm such an idiot 😭😭😭

[pastafossa]

🌊TUNA-TOBER🌊 PROMPT CHALLENGE 2024 🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Hello friends! So last month I realized that one of the reasons I'm struggling to get my writing back up to my old speed is I am seriously out of practice since Dec/Jan when shit went down and I stopped writing for a while. After some thought, I decided I was gonna set up a little prompt challenge for myself, just a general, 'here's a prompt a day' thing for about a month. And I tossed this idea out onto my fave Daredevil discord server to see if anyone would want to join. And I'm happy to say there were takers, including some of my favorite writers in the fandom! So I've set up a delicious prompt challenge for all of us, and for anyone else who wants to take part.

For each day in October, there are three prompts: an 🌧️angst/whump prompt🌧️, a 🌻fluff prompt🌻, and a 🔥kink prompt🔥. Participants are free to choose which one of the prompts they want to write or make art of, or they can try to incorporate two, or even all three prompts into a single fic or art piece. They can write a short fic/make art every day, or just on whichever days they feel like (personally I'm going to shoot for one fic a day, but we'll see), or even incorporate those prompts into the chapters of longer fics. There are also four 'backup' prompt options for each category in case anyone hits a day or prompt where they aren't really feeling what's available on the chosen day. If any of these prompts inspire you, you can feel free to take on the Tuna-Tober challenge even if you're not in the server! This challenge is also not fandom-specific (although I have a feeling I'm mostly gonna write Charlie Cox characters, a surprise to precisely zero people, but again, we'll see).

Sometime this week, I'll be setting up a sideblog specifically for Tuna-Tober. That sideblog blog will reblog any Tuna-Tober fics/art or link to those fics that are posted on Ao3 so they'll all be easy to find. That blog will also have instructions for how to tag your Tuna-Tober fics and/or art pieces. If you'd like to be notified when that sideblog is up so you can follow it, let me know in the comments.

Without further ado: our Tuna-Tober prompts!

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Day 1: Falling Asleep In A Hospital Room ⚜ Reading To Each Other ⚜ Somnophilia

Day 2: “Why? Why do you love me?” ⚜ Flower Crowns ⚜ Mutual Masturbation

Day 3: Broken ⚜ “I feel real when i’m with you.” ⚜ Role Reversal

Day 4: “This isn’t you.” ⚜ “Are you blushing?” ⚜ Sixty-Nine

Day 5: Self-Loathing ⚜ Watergun Fight ⚜ Begging

Day 6: "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." ⚜ Love Bites ⚜ “Spread your legs for me.”

Day 7: Nightmare ⚜ Honest Apology ⚜ Nothing Underneath

Day 8: Shaking ⚜ “You can sleep here tonight.” ⚜ Overstimulation

Day 9: Anxiety ⚜ “You don’t need to do that.” “I want to.” ⚜ “Open your mouth.”

Day 10: "I'm not good enough." ⚜ A Hug That Lasts A Little Too Long ⚜ Strap-on/Pegging

Day 11: Tears ⚜ “I’d be lost without you.” ⚜ Breast Worship

Day 12: "I did it for you.” ⚜ “You remembered?” ⚜ Deep-Throating

Day 13: Loneliness ⚜ Playful Kiss ⚜ “Beg me for it.”

Day 14: "Please look at me." ⚜ Sleep Talking ⚜ Accidental Stimulation

Day 15: Hiding An Injury ⚜ “Are you jealous?” ⚜ Threesome

Day 16: Exhaustion ⚜ Accidental Kiss ⚜ Against A Window

Day 17: "I'm not leaving you." ⚜ Tickling ⚜ “Touch yourself for me.”

Day 18: Scars ⚜ Pillow Fort ⚜ “I’m so proud of you, you’re taking me so well.”

Day 19: Touch starved ⚜ “I’ll always be there for you.” ⚜ Gags

Day 20: "Who did this to you?" ⚜ There Was Only One Bed ⚜ “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Day 21: Fainting/Collapsing ⚜ Flustered ⚜ “Was that an order?”

Day 22: "You haven't done anything wrong." ⚜ Breathless Kiss ⚜ Aphrodisiacs

Day 23: Father ⚜ “If you won’t take care of yourself, I will.” ⚜ Toys

Day 24: Drugged ⚜ Drunken Confession ⚜ “Shh, do you want them to hear us?”

Day 25: "What's Wrong?" ⚜ Playing With Their Hair ⚜ “Did I say you could do that?”

Day 26: "You're not fine." ⚜ “Shut up and kiss me.” ⚜ Under The Desk

Day 27: Near Death Experience ⚜ Overheard Confession ⚜ “Let me see what that pretty mouth can do.”

Day 28: Chronic Pain ⚜ Sharing An Umbrella ⚜ Hair Pulling

Day 29: "Talk to me, please." ⚜ Forehead Kiss ⚜ Restraints

Day 30: Healing ⚜ Road Trip ⚜ “Take it off. Slowly.”

Day 31: "Why wasn't I enough?" ⚜ Blanket Hog ⚜ Stockings/Thigh Highs

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

🌊Tuna-Tober🌊 Backup Prompts:

Bound/Chained ⚜ Moving In Together ⚜ Almost Getting Caught

"Take me instead." ⚜ “I’m in love with you, and that scares me.” ⚜ High Heels

Insomnia ⚜ Adopting A Pet ⚜ Scent Marking

"You're not alone." ⚜ Playing A Game Together ⚜ Ass Worship

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟���🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Cut the Shit-Delusion, Sweetheart | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

summary: A young actress confesses her feelings to Cillian Murphy, this is how he responds.

warning: This is a much different story than I usually write but I think it's one that we all need in moments of pain and loneliness; to allow ourselves to feel sad and disappointment and hurt. We use people like Cillian to comfort ourselves and give ourselves reasons to be happy and sometimes we need moments to be sad. I was inspired by Fleabag (of course) and an AI edit I saw of Cillian where he turns someone down and its really sweet even though it breaks my heart lol. Age-diff, 1 noncon kiss, talk of infidelity.

word count: 1791+k

Blue Light- Mazzy Star 🎶

Don't interact if you're a Yvonne-hater, please and thanks <3

She hesitated before she knocked on the side-door of Cillian’s trailer. This desperate feeling overwhelmed her and she knew that she couldn’t sleep unless she went to him and confessed how she felt. She’d been plagued by dreams of them together, these beautiful, perfect dreams that poisoned her sleep like melatonin. She loved him and whether or not he felt the same way, she needed to tell him. She exhaled shakily as she dropped her arm back to her side. She was wearing her normal clothes, out of costume finally after a long day of shooting. She lost her sense of security behind the battlements of her gowns and numerous frilly things. She couldn’t hide her feelings behind her character anymore. 

The door opened and Cillian leaned against the doorframe in a casual greeting. 

“Don’t tell me we have a late night call time tonight, I’m fucking exhausted.” He smiled with his lopsided grin, his wide lips framing his teeth.

“No, but there is some business I need to attend to. May I come in?” She returned his smile and mirrored his posture. 

“Sure, come on.” He stepped aside and raised his arm in a welcoming gesture for her to pass through the door. She nodded in silent thanks and stood awkwardly in his trailer which was simple and quaint. Except for the unmade bed, the trailer was neat and orderly. 

“Oh fuck I’m sorry, were you asleep when I knocked?” She blushed and squeezed her palms together in an anxious gesture. 

“Nah, I was just reading the script for a movie my agent wants me to do next.” 

“Oh,” she nodded and turned her attention to the rack of costumes his character wore, “is it any good?” 

“It's definitely interesting but I don’t think it’s t’e right film for me.” He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. Cillian was wearing a plain t-shirt and pajama pants, and seeing the innocent-intimate side of his life made her want so desperately to kiss him. She sat on the small couch he had in the trailer and tried to smile. 

“That’s too bad. Is it anything I’d like?” She joked and he nodded seriously. 

“Actually, yeh. I’ll send it over once I’m through. I’ve been re-reading it.” He moved his hands through the air as he spoke, so unlike his characters. She almost laughed and he smiled. 

“So, what can I do for you? You said you had some business to attend to. Sounds serious. Should I be worried?” He raised his eyebrow and crossed his legs, his hands cupped around the edge of the mattress. She tried to speak and immediately failed. Frustrated and embarrassed tears filled her eyes and she hid them by looking up at the ceiling. Cillian furrowed his brow, concerned. 

“What’s wrong?” He leaned forward on the bed and she shook her head, laughing lightly at herself. 

“I feel so incredibly stupid now for coming here.” She looked away and the bed squeaked softly as Cillian stood and joined her on the couch. She scooted over to give him some room and picked at the skin on her hands. 

“You can always come to me. Whatever it is.” He said softly and the air around them stilled with anticipation.

“Oh don’t say that, Cillian. You’re so kind…” she started to cry and tried to hide her face. 

“Fuck, I hate tears, please don’t cry! Did somet’ing happen?” He raised his hands helplessly, holding them over her without being sure what to do with them. She nodded her head slowly and hiccuped pitifully. 

“You’ll have to forgive me for my comforting abilities. I’ve never been good on t’at front and I have boys so I’m better at comforting members of the male species.” He shrugged and smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She laughed despite herself and wiped her eyes. She stood and paced the front of the trailer, knowing that it was now or never. 

“Cillian, this is such a horrible way to end your nice evening but I can’t continue on set without getting this off my chest. I hope you’ll forgive me.” She dared herself to look at him and he met her eyes, holding her eye-contact with mature resolve. 

“Of course.” He nodded softly, wrinkling his forehead, now more concerned with what his costar was going to tell him. He was naive. He assumed she was going to tell him that she couldn’t work with him anymore or that something had happened in their scenes that had made her uncomfortable. He shifted uneasily on the couch, watching her. She tried to speak a few times but exhaled and shook her head. Cillian stood and met her where she was standing. He was a good few feet taller than her and so much older, but having him there beside her made the feelings she wanted to tell him about so much stronger. 

“Cillian, this isn’t easy to say,” she looked down at her hands and then up into his clear blue eyes. “I have feelings for you, more than our professional relationship can offer. Working with you on set all this time has… it’s made my feelings so much harder to ignore, Cillian.” 

He froze and remembered to breathe, drawing in a startled breath. 

“T’at wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.” He ran his hand over his mouth and looked away, his blue eyes moving through his hidden thoughts. 

“I know you probably don’t feel the same but I just… it’s driving me mad, Cillian. It’s becoming a form of method acting that isn’t fun anymore.” She tried to laugh lightly but grimaced and put the backs of her hands against her burning cheeks. 

“Yeh…” he nodded and sighed, his eyes wide. 

She groaned and returned to the couch, sitting on her sweaty hands. 

“I can go, Cillian. I can leave if you don’t want me here anymore.” She whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. 

“No, no. We need to talk t’rough this.” He said calmly, slowly, and covered his mouth with his freckled hand. 

“Oh God, I’ve gone and fucked everything up. I’m sorry Cillian. I knew you didn’t feel the same but I still let myself go to you.” She leaned back against the couch and pulled her hands through her hair and pulled the skin back from her face. 

“Stop it. Don’t say t'at.” Cillian snapped not unkindly but sternly and took a deep breath. “See, we need to talk about t’is so we can still work together, eh?” He ran a hand through his own dark hair and looked at her for a moment, thinking. 

“How, Cillian? If you knew how I felt about you… it’s maddening. I can’t sleep, Cillian. You’re all I think about as pathetic as it sounds,” she took a deep breath, “I love you. And now you’ll hate me.” She continued and moved her hands, clasped together between her knees.

Cillian sighed and moved abruptly to her side on the couch, opening his body towards her. 

“Don’t talk for me, eh? Look, I understand. It’s hard to not develop certain er… feelings when we do what we do, right?” He cocked his head to the side and licked his lips awkwardly.

“I know I’m childish, Cillian, but I can’t help it. I’m suffering without you… without more from you, more than we can do on set.” She whined and rubbed her shoulders as if she were cold. “Can you indulge me? Do you feel even a little of what I do?” She whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. He said nothing for a second before running his hands up and down his face, exhaling loudly into his palms. He put his hands down and leaned towards her on his elbows. 

“I’m married, sweetheart. Yvonne is my wife and I love her.” He whispered softly, his hands splitting the space between them. 

“But I love you.” She whispered back and leaned in to kiss him. He allowed her to kiss him once and when she pulled away, dejected, he took her chin gently. 

“Cut the shit-delusion, sweetheart. You’re young… far too young for me. You may t’ink you love me but you don’t know me.”

He took her face in his hands and smiled sadly as tears rolled down her pink cheeks. 

“I know you’ll find someone who truly loves you. You’re a beautiful young woman who has her entire life ahead of her. I’m flattered t'at you feel t’at way about me but we can’t, I can’t. If the roles were reversed and we were married and Yvonne approached me, wouldn’t you want me to stop t’ings before t’ey went too far?” He supported her head as she dropped it slightly to the side. She felt empty of words and so he continued. 

“You’re a darling girl but you know we can’t do t’is.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb and wiped away her tears. “You need a boy your age who knows how to love you in the way you need to be loved. I only know how to love my wife… and she’s the only one who knows how to love me.”

“I could have loved you in whatever way you needed.” She whispered weakly and he smiled softly. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothed her like a father, “but you wouldn’t have been happy wit' me. You’re out of my league and you would have gotten bored of me.” He joked lightly and she allowed a pained smile to form on her lips. 

“I’m sorry, Cillian. I feel like such a fool.” She closed her eyes and he hugged her close. 

“Nah, you’re still a kid. You’re many t’ings but foolish is not one of ’em.” He squeezed her tightly and kissed her head affectionately. “You’re a good kid and a great actress. We’ll be fine, the two of us, eh?” He pulled away and she wiped her eyes dry. 

“I’ll try.”  

She kissed him briefly on the cheek and rose to her feet. She walked to the door and looked back at the actor with a small smile, the door open in front of her.

“Goodnight, Cillian.” 

He nodded from the couch. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

Cillian stood and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. 

“You weren’t the only one.... That is, you weren’t the only one who felt…” he broke off and cleared his throat, “but it's better t’is way, yeh?.... It’ll pass, love. It’ll pass.” 

He met her eyes one last time and she nodded sadly yet full of a completeness found in their mutual understanding. 

“Goodnight, Cillian.” She said again and closed the door behind her and left the trailer, walking with her back to the wind. Cillian collapsed back on the couch and looked at his watch, wondering if Yvonne was awake. She always answered his calls. She put up with everything, God bless her. She was everything and more than he deserved. He rang her up and she answered after the second ring, her voice ringed with sleepiness.

"Heya, love." He whispered with a smile, "No, everyt'ing's fine. I just wanted to call you. I miss you, girl. Yeah, yeah. Put them on."

[k20spock]

Gecko’s list of free video games you should play right now

Hi I’m gecko I like video games and I like not paying 60 dollars for them so here’s a list of some free games I’ve unearthed and liked. Enjoy

(most of these are small, more obscure games made by a few people or even just one person, so support the creators if you can!! Some of these do have a pay what you want model)

Hikeback (Itch.io) 

You see a hitchhiker flagging you down during a long, lonely drive through the countryside. No matter how you choose to handle the situation, you end up back on that road. And then again. And again. And again, until you find a way to escape a loop of violence and self-sabotage. Hikeback is a visual novel inspired by the fable of the frog and the scorpion, and it takes about an hour to reach the ending. It’s available on Windows, Mac, Linux, and browser, and there’s a detailed list of content warnings on the game’s itch.io page. One of my strongest recommendations, Hikeback is an incredible experience, and it was made in only ten days!!

Purrgatory (Itch.io) (Steam)

Find ways to pass the time in an inexplicably cat-themed but otherwise pretty dull afterlife, and befriend its other inhabitants. Purrgatory can hit hard when it wants to, but it’s mostly a relaxed point and click game that takes about a few hours if you want the true ending (which you do). And also I really don’t like recommending things going “it’s rep!!” and not elaborating on what the thing is actually about, but Purrgatory does have a mostly explicitly LGBT+ cast and Korean characters by a Korean artist. It’s been a few years since I played Purrgatory, but I remember it was an incredible experience, and since then, even more people can play it because it’s been fully translated into Spanish and Simplified Chinese! It’s available on Windows and browser.

How Fish is Made (Itch.io) (Steam)

How Fish is Made includes incredible retro-style graphics, a sardine flopping around in a machine with a choice to make, a singing, cane-wielding, tophat-wearing, tongue-eating parasitic isopod, and a free expansion/trailer for the studio’s next game that’s like if Katamari Damacy was evil and also had fish in it. That’s the best I can do for a summary. How Fish is Made is available on Windows and takes about 30-45 minutes, but will itch your brain for much longer.

Stop Burying Me Alive, Beautiful (Itch.io)

A visual novel in which you are stuck between trying to convince your girlfriend you are not dead and she should stop burying you alive, and playing rat-themed card games with a woman you find living underground. The game doesn’t always do a great job walking the line between comedy and horror, but there’s some strong writing depicting a failing relationship and very strong artwork that makes this an easy recommendation. Stop Burying Me Alive, Beautiful is on Windows, Mac, Linux, and browser, and takes about half an hour. 

Caper in the Castro (Internet Archive)

Ok this one is pretty different, but fuck it, it was originally released for free in 1989 (with a recommendation to make a donation to charity instead) and is still free so I’m including it. Not enough people are aware that you can play the first known video game by and about gay people on your computer right now for free and it has that classic adventure game bullshit sometimes but it’s extremely playable and also funny as shit. Like it’s not just cool history it’s actually fun (sorry Gayblade). You play as a lesbian private detective named Tracker McDyke looking for your missing drag queen friend and you can get most of the doors in the game open by shooting them. People have made full walkthroughs for this game and how to get it working if you have trouble so there’s no excuse. Play Caper in the Castro.

Under a Star Called Sun (Itch.io) (Liminal Magazine)

A browser game made in Bitsy that’s extremely simple and only a few minutes long, but that’s all it needs to create a succinct, gut-wrenching depiction of grief. 

Hotel Infinity (Itch.io)

If you need more short Bitsy games you can play in your browser that are about death, you’re out of luck after this because I’ve only got the two. Hotel Infinity is more lighthearted, tasking you with checking in on your ghostly hotel guests, and helping one check out. It’s simple, but sweet and affecting. 

Water Womb World (Itch.io)

Back to marine life-themed horror. Water Womb World is about a man’s obsessive search for the Garden of Eden leading him to the bottom of the ocean. There’s a few brief moments of annoyance in the gameplay, but the atmosphere and visuals are fantastic. Fantastic enough I bought the shirt, because I like cool shirts. It's available for Mac and Windows, and takes about 15 minutes. 

Hyperhell (Itch.io) (Steam)

A rogue-like bullet hell with a hyperpop soundtrack. It’s a mess, but in a good way. A run can (allegedly, I am not very good at bullet hells and I wasn’t able to get all the way to the end) be under ten minutes, but the game is very replayable with its different characters, weapons, bosses, and DDR and fishing minigames. You might have heard of this one already because maia has a cameo in it, but it really is a fun, if slightly painful for your eyes, time. It’s available on Windows.

Magicafe HD (Itch.io)

Under a technicality, I haven’t played this one yet, but that’s because I played the original text-based version of this game and I didn’t know the dev had converted it to a full visual novel until right now when I went to recommend the original. I’m certain this version is even better! It’s a cute, simple visual novel about a girl trying to get to her job at a magical girl themed cafe, while dealing with the struggles of secretly also being an actual magical girl. Available on Windows, and lasts about half an hour. The original is available on browser here if you’re interested. 

Dedz0ne (Itch.io)

Ok, wrapping up on a weird one since this isn’t really a universal recommendation. Dedz0ne is a Yume Nikki/Splatoon fangame inspired by Dedf1sh’s backstory and the atmosphere of Octo Expansion in general. It came out before Side Order so it’s not accurate to it, but it’s a really neat game with great visuals and atmosphere. It’s available on Windows

And that’s it for now. There will probably be a sequel someday because I am unable to stop digging through free games. Or maybe a collection of not free but extremely cheap games (like under five bucks) I like. Who knows! I hope you found something that catches your eye here!

[perfectfangirl]

notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep3

• almost certain that is sugarfoot cooper is dismounting in the scene from the movie he is filming 🥲 • the film cooper was filming here is called "the man from deadhorse", a clear play on the concept of "beating a dead horse" • just realized he [presumably] shot the bad guy character twice • i also noticed that the duster the bad guy character is wearing looks an awful lot like the duster cooper wears as the character he “plays” in the wasteland to cope. is... cooper playing a bad guy character based off one of his movies?? • saw a couple of different variations of "feo, fuerte, y formal" [all saying mostly the same thing] cooper says "he was ugly, strong, and had dignity" wikitionary says it denotes a conception of masculinity. very curious about this these words and the scene because cooper is obviously viewed as a concept of masculinity in hollywood, to the point where he's being asked to essentially engage in statecraft via propaganda as this movie scene is making his character do something completely antithetical--- killing the bad guy instead of solving another way, he basically says a line about "commies" then shoots the him in the head

• what's more is that some are viewing the three concepts of "ugly, strong, dignity" to mean either a variation of cooper, lucy, and maximus or of cooper himself, didn't even think of this and it's a particular interesting trichotomy of cooper pre and post war • "well, joey, i'll give you two out of three on that front" and now i don't know which two out of three • cooper goes out of his way to thank the actor jorge for playing the bad guy in his film • cooper presumably read the script, probably had a table read, rehearsal, and still didn't want to film his good guy character killing the bad guy [perhaps after cadillac bob got fired, there were rewrites and cooper was not told until then] out of context, this is charming, he values his characters so much that they mirror his own values [walton has argued with writers, directors, actors about his characters too!] but in context, it is either the beginning or yet another chapter is cooper's conflicting and morally challenging struggle of "right" and "wrong" in this show • need to know more about cadillac bob! he was doing the moral good type of writing on cooper's programs and i am curious if the firing was an ousting [as being labeled a communist is career over here] because the wiki says he was fired for refusing to write this storyline for the "new america" and then they wrote this character change for cooper to have a firmer anticommunist stance to influence the public. cooper wants to change the scene so bad, he asks for a writer and i find it amusing the director thinks doing a 180° on his character would be good because "the audience knows you're a good man. they want to see that even a good man as yourself can be driven too far sometimes" idk but this is about all the horseshit i can take • [this is precisely post war cooper's arc and character if that wasn't obvious enough] • enter barb. i love the sensual "married couple flirting like strangers" energy behind this scene • lavender flowers are supposed to represent purity, silence, grace, devotion, serenity, calmness--- just a little something for you romance girlies to think about with this scene • "tastes like someone touching you for the first time" and they make it a point to show cooper and barb's hands and cooper purposefully touching barb's fingers as they exchange the candy • hands and fingers seem to be important motifs here and it also seems like hands and fingers are particularly worthy of note for cooper • they kiss each other and they're like "sorry, makeup" and "sorry, lipstick" 😭 • looks like barb secured cooper some vault tec contracts • cooper winds up on siggi's headless body and i can almost see the algebra and trigonometry floating around his brain trying to make heads or tails of this shit • from my understanding, there's no chems that keep a ghoul from going feral within the game universe but there are chems that can and have turned people into ghouls, i see speculation that cooper may have a chem addiction and what we see are withdrawal symptoms, as when lucy finds him outside the super duper mart, he's still on the ground and not acting much feral but [of course coughing, drooling, etc could be the show's symptoms for ferality] i digress • almost think because it's dry and arid af out there, that's why he need a chem

• literally howling because of how lucy was handling siggi's head, she got over the shock and disgust quick 😭 • lucy is crazy for lighting another [camp]fire at night like that • lucy putting a tracker on siggi's head was smart though • lmao did the brotherhood of steel not know lord titus' regular speaking voice or • maximus lying to the brotherhood of steel, maximus selling his teeth for caps instead of literally anything else, maximus thinking he can leave his power suit uncovered and unattended without it being pulled for scrap--- like lord, maximus, please make a sensible step 😫 • the voice modulator mechanic person was very sci fi though • took me a second watch to realize maximus' tooth extraction resulted in a bit of a lisp glfgd • not maximus getting bullied again 😭 • maximus getting a wrench and toilet seat and beating the shit out of them wastelanders with them rotf • crushed that man's head like a watermelon❤️ • thaddeus being sent to inadvertently squire for someone he helped bully is his karma lol • "remnant from the old world" directly implying the enclave is a continuation of the us government • lucy arriving on the serene scene of a fawn near a lake where hollywood boulevard once stood [lucy being a parallel of the innocent doe, doe eyed, and this is bambi ok 🥲] • an undamaged, normal appearing fawn representing beauty and purity can grow in the wasteland and then it being snatched by a gulper likewise demonstrating that it can all be taken away in a blink of an eye • lucy once again being crazy for walking around with the barely contained rotting head, like of course the abomination snatched that too 😭 • cooper conveniently appearing with a cocked gun in her face and she just smiles and says "hello again" like excuse me?? 😭 • cooper's head tilt gets me every time, oof • he ain't have to lightly pistol whip her like that 😭 • lmao poor chet • betty to some degree i keep wondering if she knows extensively about the vaults of 31, 32, 33 or if she is just doing what she is told • norm using the word "escape" instead of perhaps "leave" when describing lucy's departure from vault 33 is intriguing, i think • it took me a minute, and i don't think i've seen much talk about this but i legitimately think norm's lack of enthusiasm and drive for life in the vault is directly connected to his mother's death but i have seen no clear age for him--- they don't show his memories like they do lucy's and i would want an explanation or exploration on his lore here because... he already uncovered vault 31's secret but i don't think he knows what hank has done and him finding out will be huge as well like for lucy • norm is rightfully angry at the raiders for what they did but i am almost willing to bet he might be implicated in their poisonings as a diversion tactic by someone like betty but it's all just a theory [a film theory gldfgldfl] • because someone in the fucking kitchen and handling the food poisoned them raiders... • ghoul prejudice being loud and clear and amongst the brotherhood of steel 😭 • ghouls leaving radiation trails is insane • lmao maximus and thaddeus coming upon siggi's headless body and then trying to compare his mugshot • maximus thinking it was the ghoul who beheaded siggi when it was lucy at siggi's request lol • dogmeat barking up a storm because she wanted cooper's foolishness upon lucy to cease • "you know, they use to do these things called "studies"" like lucy doesn't know what a study is? she's a teacher! 😭 • rads going up because of the water or cooper or both? • ok so i now get why when lucy told cooper torture was wrong that he went into a whole spiel--- not only was cooper in the military but for thirty years post war, dom pedro kept him in a coffin confined on an iv drip to keep him alive but would dig him up and slice pieces of him off and then put him back. cooper's behaviour using her as bait [but not torture] is of course not excusable but cooper is coming from a deep place of hurt and bitterness, this monster was whittled

• cooper goes on to say "it made sense. i mean a man hurts me, i wouldn't want to do him any favours. and yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from the earth. in fact, as time marched on, i've personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board." oh, cooper 😞 • he says this as he picks what looks like giant leeches off lucy [didn't have to do that] • "well, i ain't torturing you, sweetheart" here go the first instance of familiarity with a patronising pet name in the style of cowboyism and southerness gldgldlf • almost looked like lucy started cooperating when cooper told her he was using her as bait gldgldl • ok so it looks like cooper cut the rope? so lucy could get free i guess idk but then the gulper got ahold of the anchor so he couldn't reel it back? [not sure, anyways, he botched this lmao] • he starts striking at the gulper with what looks like a harpoon i guess when it catches lucy's leg [could've definitely let her get ate but didn't] • lucy basically saves herself with dogmeat biting the gulper and scaring it off • cooper empties lucy's bag and destroys her stuff so it's only right cooper's karma is his vials getting smashed in the process of using lucy for bait lol • cooper getting mad and taking out his gun and cocking it at lucy like it was her fault his shit got smashed 😭 • "oh, i'm sorry, i should just let you use me as bait in the poison river!?" the way she says it always almost brings a tear to my eyes like get his ass 😭 • for the first time in the show, cooper realises he was wrong and/or messed up [and to his detriment] • lucy protests her treatment, "do unto others as you would have done unto you" and cooper starts mumbling to himself "those gulpers digest real slow. you got time." because he already going through withdrawals, help • so he ties her up like a dog and says the wasteland got its own rule and it's "thou shalt get distracted by bullshit every goddamn time" 😭 this is so a reference to gameplay and how they themselves are going on a fucking side quest lmao • lucy asking about dogmeat 😢 dogmeat staying because that gulper has siggi's head ☹️

• lmao maximus masquerading as lord titus asking thaddeus to say something about him • you know? it's good writing to me to explain why a [secondary] character would bully or behave as thaddeus has to maximus--- he's not merely a side character and wanted to say nothing but nice things about maximus when he thought he died, i'll give him that • "we can judge a person and a society by how they treat their enemy" goes boom because of the game lore and also because somebody kills all those raider prisoners lol • this disconnect between the vault dwellers and wastelanders--- they're talking about teaching these people shakespeare when some of them eat people for survival • norm wants the raiders to die and they keep showing steph and this might be a red herring but i think she poisoned them mfs, personally • hmm why does steph know what hank would do in this situation like that flgdlgdl • maximus trying to protect thaddeus from danger • thaddeus calling cooper an abomination because he's a ghoul 😭🖐️ • the little scream thaddeus makes as the gulper gets him ❤️ • dogmeat really loved siggi ☹️ • cooper and lucy walking near an incinerated hollywood tour bus is so lmao why cooper walk past that • at first i thought cooper was displaying cruelty by not letting lucy drink his water but then it occurred to me it might be irradiated, the next scene with water like this, she gets sick from radiation from drinking water • lmao when he emptied the last drops of water in his canteen out in the sand in front of her 😭 • "ain't much stays clean up here, vaulty" he is talking about himself • lucy gazing at a billboard of vault boy, cooper shooting the face, then they cut to vault boy's origins being cooper--- • symbolism and parallels like this can kill a man but i did want to just say there's so many layers to this. to be short he has such contempt, shame for what he thinks he's done, people hundreds of years later worship this thing that represents the end of civilization and he feels responsibility because he was deceived as well. lucy none the wiser. she just thinks he's crazy and horrible for no reason. if only she knew. • the road to hell is paved with good intentions

[a-random-weeb]

HIIIII COULD I PLEASE REQUEST BSD MEN WITH A REALLY UNHINGED/ENERGETIC LOVER PLSPLSPLS I LOVE YOUR WRITING TYSMMMMM

Alright, that sounds really fun!

Characters: Dazai, Chuuya, kunikida

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dazai:

•You both actively get into trouble

•You two piss kunikida off like there is no tomorrow

•Both of you team up to absolutely destroy his sanity (sorry kunikida)

•He does worry about how unhinged you are sometimes

•Ome day you're both watching the news and it's like

"69 people died, very tragic"

•AND YOU JUST LOOK AT HIM WITH A WEIRD ASS FACE

"Hehehe, 69" 😭

•Bro looks at you like 'huh?!'

•He stays silent while probably trying not to laugh

•He knows you'll do anything he dares you to, so he always dares you to do the dumbest things

•You even made a whipped cream snowman in the ADAs toilet

Ranpo went to use the bathroom and screamed so loudly at the whipped cream that kunikida ran into the bathroom to see what was wrong. He immediately knew it was. He was not pleased. He sprinted to find you and Dazai's dumbasses, and then scolded you guys for an hour. Dazai and you definitely turned everything one of this sentences dirty

"He could have got scared and fell and hurt himself!"

"How do you know he's not into pain?"

‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•♡˚+‎・‎•

Chuuya:

•Hes so scared your gonna die 😭

•He never lets you out if his sight

•Yells at you for everything

•Though, he does find your energy very cute

•Hell never admit that though

•I think he probably highers a 'bodyguard', or so he calls it but they're more like a babysitter 😭

•Bro does not trust you

•He doesn't let you cook out of fear you'll burn yourself or stab yourself (I actually stabbed myself in the leg by falling on a knife. I'm not kidding, ask my roommate @ginandginny, it was gushing blood)

•He loves you too much to let you get hurt

•He also carries you everywhere, because if he doesn't you're probably off doing something weird

"No. Do not eat that knife. Do not attempt to." Chuyya says firmly after your friend dared you to eat the knife

"But I have to follow the rules of truth or dare"

"I didn't think you would actually try!" Your friend shouts, trying to defend herself

"Put. The. Knife. Down." He glares and prys the knife away from you. You try to grab it away from him, so he grabs you by the waste and holds you to him so you can't move, setting the knife down. You're flustered but have to much energy to freeze up, so you try get away, but if course he's 100× stronger than you. He chuckles and leans in for a kiss but then your friend clears there throat. You both feel embarrassed.

∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°^∆~°

kunikida:

"That was irresponsible and immature"

"It wasn't THAT bad..."

"He was in forth grade!"

You stick your tongue out at him as he shoots you a glare. You had just beat up a kid over half a bag of skittles ←(Based off real events.... you don't wanna know, I promise I'm mature 😭). To be fair, the kid was rubbing the fact that he had candy in your face. Kunikida sighs "You're an idiot, do you want someone to call the cops on y-" you kiss him on the lips. Why? To shut him up and piss him off. He kisses you back and things get heated. I'll let you imagine the rest ;)

(What I meant by based off real events was when I was in grade 6, there was this grade 4 piece of shit who had half a bad of skittles, I asked for one and he said no, then proceeded to rub it in my face that he had skittles and I had nothing! I used to have worse anger issues than I do now, so I may or may not have beaten him up....)

-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-_°-

I wrote headcannons and did a whole one for akutagawa but tumblr couldn't process my post for some reason so I just put what I remembered from the kunikida one, sorry

[asukaskerian]

peddling svsss (spoilers abound)

lovingthatofficeyfeel: ok. Now try to sell me on SVSSS because I read the summary and go 'nope, nope, nope icky power dynamics do not want, nooooope' because if it is not that I am also amenable (Book summary: "Half-demon Luo Binghe rose from humble beginnings and a tortured past to become unrivaled in strength and beauty. With his harem of over three hundred wives, and dominion over both the human and demonic realms, he is truly the most powerful protagonist—in a trashy web novel series!

At least, that's what Shen Yuan, online alias "Peerless Cucumber," believes as he finishes reading the final chapter in Proud Immortal Demon Way. But when a combination of rage and a poor meal choice leads to his death, Shen Yuan finds himself reborn into the world of the web novel, in the body of Shen Qingqiu—the beautiful but cruel teacher to a young Luo Binghe.

Although as Shen Qingqiu, he now has incredible power and abilities as a cultivator, he’s destined to be horrifically punished for crimes against the protagonist, so this new Shen Qingqiu has only one course of action: get into Luo Binghe’s good graces before the young man’s rise to power. That’s the only way he’ll escape the awful fate of a true scum villain!")

lovingthatofficeyfeel: ^ like based on that summary, I would never read that light novel on my own

Askerian: oh man yeah it makes it sound like grooming as fuck Askerian: grooosssss

lovingthatofficeyfeel: exactly! lovingthatofficeyfeel: its like this for most of the danmei!

Askerian: it's not like that at ALL

lovingthatofficeyfeel: which is why I want to know why people like it so much

Askerian: ok first of all, the guy he's stuck inside of is a high ranking ice bitch, so he has to speak that way too, BUT! he's a huge nerd inside! Askerian: the contrast between the speech and the narration is sometimes completely hilarious Askerian: also. his screen name peerless cucumber is a dick joke. and the book author's airplane shooting toward the sky is also a dick joke Askerian: this guy is the kind of oblivious demisexual who will read a 600+ chapters harem story for the worldbuilding

Askerian: and the protagonist! he LOVES the main character, so he also looks favorably upon him getting everything life owes him including sex, he supposes, but! none of his wives LOVE HIM PROPERLY. hm. let's flame the author over that. Askerian: anyway so then he lands himself in the body of a teacher to a 14 year old abused kid. who is a kid! and a very adorable kid. yeee time to spoil the shit out of him Askerian: the issue there is that there's a system/game manager forcing plot points and assigning quests and no matter what he does some things must happen, such as his betraying his poor clingy baby student so that he can rise magnificently from a hell dimension and take his place as a demon king Askerian: so when his adorable little student comes back Pissed and starts doing things that look very similar to what happened in the book just before murdering his evil teacher, he starts running. but he also really wants to help his student survive and even thrive! but also, not die in the process PLEASE.

Askerian: meanwhile luo binghe went from abused by sensei to spoiled by sensei to "i will marry sensei when i grow up" to "STOP RUNNING FROM ME AND EXPLAIN"

Askerian: main character can't explain, btw. he'd die.

lovingthatofficeyfeel: ahahahahahahah OMG lovingthatofficeyfeel: see THIS, this is my shit lovingthatofficeyfeel: this sounds freaking God Tier hijinks humour

Askerian: it's so damn fun XD

lovingthatofficeyfeel: you should write the summaries for seven seas' danmei books

Askerian: also the System sells "small scenario pushers" for points Askerian: guy "what's that, ok, let's buy, maybe it'l save my life" => WHY DID I END UP HALF NAKED AND DRENCHED Askerian: luo binghe : hhhhhhh 🍆

lovingthatofficeyfeel: ahahahaha omg, wet hanfu Saves Lives XD

Askerian: shen yuan: idk what distracted him but time to run Askerian: luo binghe: D:< wAIT STOP BEING NAKED AROUND MY LOVE RIVALS shen yuan: oh no he wants to kill me twice as much Askerian: he's Oblivious (tm)

lovingthatofficeyfeel: omg. 'oblivious demi-sexual keeps running away from future-demon-king trying to seduce him'

Askerian: yiss

lovingthatofficeyfeel: this is a fanfic plot in the best way

Askerian: YISS. Askerian: i kinda love luo binghe's character too tbh. he's so nice! but he's such a yandere sometimes Askerian: i mean, nice. :X Askerian: "my fantasy life is to be my master's little housewife and i will burn down the world to make it happen" dude :X

lovingthatofficeyfeel: honestly, good on him for having balanced life goals XD

Askerian: as a kid he's adorable but also already "i hear what you said! i understand it! gonna do what i felt was right tho" Askerian: after he's been given unconditional love by sensei!!!!! but also betrayed by sensei!!! he doesnt know which way is up anymore. it's kinda clear that in the book he was from, his original version was using "seduction and sex with this random new girl that will disappear from the plot in five chapters" to paper the holes Askerian: like, couldn't trust anybody's love because he never had any, but desperately needed it. Askerian: this one's had a taste before, and doesn't know what he must have done to lose it, but he will fix it!! but only sensei will do Askerian: main character keeps expecting him to hook up with dozens of girls and it never happens and he's ?? while also totally missing all the admirers HE is gathering Askerian: also issues because he's a half demon, and sensei said he thought good demons must exist, but he was still rejected on reveal, so does that mean "there can be good demons but you're not one" Askerian: and since he's naturally smooth and it easily goes into manipulation, everything he does or say, sensei takes it as some underhanded threat or plot! he was a demon king in the book ok?! Askerian: book him was NOT nice Askerian: anyway a REALLY fun read

Askerian: though don't expect the sex scene to be good because it's a half-feral "fixing you via magic sex" and he canonically has huge meat :X Askerian: and since he has ZERO experience it uh, goes badly Askerian: tbh the author's gift does not lie with sexy porn

but tbf the point of the scene was NOT to be sexy, soooo...

[emilsendo]

Tokyo Revengers [preferences]

Type: Fluff

Warning: Male reader, G/N reader, Tall!male/GN reader, bxb, Shorter!Character, fluff, (Idk what else xD)

Author Note: In general, I apologize to those who were waiting for One Shot, but honestly, I was too lazy to do it and I forgot that I even had this application xDD So I'm giving you preferences, which I hope are good. And there has been a slight change in my block, I will write Smuts but only for characters 16+ or 18+. Not 15 and under that age.

Their reaction when you're taller than them. PART 1

Manjirø Sano:

It's not a challenge to be taller than him, but to be 2 meters and how many centimeters? Mikey thought you were some kind of giant.

In the first moments of your acquaintance, he wouldn't like you because you looked like you were everyone's enemy due to your height and appearance. But when Mikey got to know you better and noticed that you had a great personality, the boy loved you just as quickly as he disliked you.

He thought you were an interesting type of guy and wanted to know as much as he could about your past and you. Mikey didn't know why, you just had something about your personality and looks that piqued his interest.

However, when your relationship reached a higher stage after some time (I bet after a few weeks, at most 4 months), the blonde would use your height as a playground because he would climb on you every now and then and want you to carry him. Draken was then SUPER grateful that you existed because he didn't have to take care of Mikey so much.

Sometimes he would scare his opponents with you while talking to the other gang, because something that the other leader of the gang do irritated him.

And the last one. He cuddles up to you all the time, sleeps on you, sometimes sits on your lap. He just treats you like a big teddy bear (I feel sorry for you because this mf behaves like this even in public👀)

Ken Ryūguji:

Ken is used to looking down on everyone because usually HE is the big guy. So when he saw you, a six-foot and several centimeters tall boy, the blond boy felt a little threatened.

He didn't trust you at all at first, he thought you were a very suspicious guy, as if you were about to take a gun out from under your blouse and shoot the shit out of everyone. (Draken, chill out dude 🙄)

Your conversations were mainly based on exchanging a few words and then silence for the rest of the time. (very awkward feeling🌚👍)

but after some time, of course, you learned to communicate together, in fact, you both had a lot in common! Draken liked you very much, he wanted to spend more and more time with you.

As your relationship progressed, Draken felt a little embarrassed when you held his hand in public. The blonde hates affection, especially when you show it to him in public. (Sometimes he even hits you on the back of the head when he's in a bad mood, and you're begin clingy to him)

However, if you are alone, Ken loves to cuddle with you. (I know, hard to believe👀🙌)

Draken loves kisses on the forehead, I don't know why, but it makes him feel safe.

Baji Keisuke:

This bitch attacked you as soon as he saw you 💀 He wanted to check if you were strong or just pretending to be. Well.... He found out.

You actually defeated him in one move because your height helped you. Baji hated you at first, he wanted to smash your face against the wall. But after a while he liked you (After 4 days when he saw you feeding homeless cats.)

After this event, he liked you very quickly. In fact, even from that moment on, he started to have a slight crush on you, of course, he never wanted to admit it. (Mainly because he was a bit ashamed that he fell in love with someone he wanted to send to the hospital...)

When your relationship moved to a higher stage, Baji became very jealous of you.

When some guy came up to you and wanted to ask for directions, Baji thought he was flirting with you, so he hit the guy as hard as he could, and then you had to force him away from the poor man. (Baji later apologized to you for his behavior)

His mother was a little afraid of you at first and thought you would hurt her son. (She doesn't know yet that it's more Baji that has a bad influence on you lmao)

But then Ryoko liked you A LOT, she thought you were a nice boy and she wanted your relationship with her son to last as long as possible. Because she saw how much Baji's eyes light up when he sees you, how much the brunette loves going out to the park with you because it makes him happy, how much Baji is lost in thought almost every day when he eats dinner with his mom because he thinks about you. His mother is happy that her son has finally found someone he cares about in hundred procent.

Baji often invites you to his place to help him study. (But it also often results in both of you ending up having a make-out session. Nothing more, so don't get your imagination too wild young fellow.)

Kazutora Hanemiya:

The boy didn't waste any time and immediately started talking to you, he thought you were worthy of his attention and he wanted to get to know you better.

Kazutora often invited you out at night to get into trouble with the police and fight with some guys. You even have a special attack where Kazutora is on your shoulders and then jumps down on the opponent and hits him with his leg. He fell down a few times and started screaming things like, "It's all Mikey's fault! Mikey's fault!!!".

As your relationship progressed, Kazutora would often randomly jump on your back to give you a kiss on the cheek. After all, you're super tall, so standing on his toes to kiss you isn't an option for him. (Because he won't be able to reach it even if he does xD)

Mf will pretend he hurt his ankle just so you can hold him and carry him all the way to his destination in your arms.

He loves you very much, so he is kinda possesive of you. It is making you sometimes uncomfortable, but Kazutora tries to hide this side of him just for your comfort.

[sykokilljoyy]

hi lovely!! I absolutely love your writing, I was wondering if you could please write somethin fluffy about dating ksi? maybe just having a cosy night in with him or something. hope you're well!

a/n: hi darling <3 thank u for the req! i thought this would be better done in a headcanon style? hope that's okay! <3

DATING KSI - headcanons!

you were both childhood best friends - you, jj and simon growing up around the same place, going to the same school. you didn't end up picking up youtube yourself, but there's rarely been a video that you weren't behind the camera, helping somehow.

simon was tired after years of you both secretly (not so secretly) pining for each other, refusing to admit you were both in love.

he waited until after high school, set up a nice posh meal with the 3 of you, then cancelled last minute - basically forcing you on your first date

jj gave simon the biggest hug when you both returned hours later, hand in hand

as much as he would be absolutely obsessed with you, he would be insanely protective

all the fans knew about you, he posted you often, and would actively block or denounce any single bit of hate towards you

jokes about you in basically every reddit video

his hands would never ever leave you, especially somewhere like a youtube party or boxing celebrations

speaking of boxing–

you were SO proud of him and his boxing, literally more than anyone and anything, but holy shit it scared you–

early boxing days, he would come home with bruises and cuts on his face, sheepishly creeping his arms around you from behind whilst you were doing something, nuzzling his head in your neck in hopes you wouldn't notice

you did

"jj!"

"i'm sorry! it's not as bad as it looks"

"shut up and let me clean you up"

says he's sorry, but secretly loves when you're propped on his lap, face knotted in concentration as you tend to the cuts on his face

he loves knowing you care for him, knowing you're there

and he supports your passions 1000%

sometimes he seems more excited about your goals than you are – he just loves how expressive you get when you talk about it all

you both make sure to save one night every week free for each other, to either go out on a date or stay in and spend time with just the two of you

jj's favourite is quiet nights in, which surprised you at first

for a man who spends his entire life in flashy clothes, concerts, fights, audiences of millions, you'd expect him to adore taking you out to expensive restaurants or snazzy nightclubs

but no

he always said he spent half his life in front of an audience, his favourite moments are when its only you there to witness him

his person

most weeks find the two of you curled up, passed out, snoring on the sofa with a tv show playing like white noise in the background, empty takeout boxes on the coffee table, you on his chest and his arms wrapped around you tightly

waking up with back pain and noticing you slept through like 3 entire seasons of the show you wanted to watch

"do you remember what episode we were up to?"

"um the one where the main character was talking to that other character..."

"ok so every episode, thank you jj"

"you're welcome, baby"

coming home from a shoot without him one night, you were tired and your social battery was nonexistent

dropping your stuff at the door, heading towards your shared bedroom

he's at his pc, editing or playing overwatch or something

notices you and how tired you are

"come here, baby"

shifts his chair to give you room and gestures towards you, you walk up and sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around him softly and pressing your face into his neck

he always smelt really nice

kissing you gently on the forehead, he carried on with what he was doing, occasionally stopping to rub your back or play with your hair

you were so tired

"i love you, y/n" you hear before you fall asleep there

"i love you, jj"

waking up the next day, tucked into bed with his strong arms around your waist, chest pressed against your back, legs intertwined under the covers

"good morning, baby"

"morning, jj"

he was just so happy to have you, all the time

a/n: oh em gee headcanons are so fun what to anon, if you wanted a full imagine version, lmk!! i just liked the idea of trying a headcanon style for the first time with this request! thank you darling <3

harry smut out this week!

[nocturnalazure]

📩 Simblr question of the day: Do you have a process for making your simblr posts?

answer in whatever way is most comfortable for you and feel free to share this SQOTD around, make sure to use the hashtag SQOTD and tag me in separate posts ~ 💛

This question was contributed by an anon in @simblr-question-of-the-day !

Thank you so much for your ask, Anon! ❤️

I gotta say, I had first understood the question at a very basic level. 😅 How do I make a post? Well...

I queue my stuff almost immediately and I keep a few character asks and reblogs for the times when I don't have any story content to post, but I don't like having too many drafts (like, "it's right there, I have to poooooost iiiiiit 🤪").

Story posts get published between 2pm and 4pm CET, at the pace of about 2 to 4 posts per day.

The rest (photo shoots, character asks and rambles, etc) gets published either at around the same time of day or whenever I feel like it.

But now, I see that other people have answered this question by explaining their creative process. So I thought I would also explain mine (haven't I done this before?). My process is quite similar to @kimmiessimmies, but I do things in a different order.

Timeline

I have a timeline and a very messy one! It used to be only in my head, then in a Word document, and now it's finally in an Excel sheet. It includes detailed ideas about the next scenes, where I'm going to shoot them, which characters are going to be involved, some lines that I absolutely need to use, and broader musings on where the story is going within a time frame of about 8,000 years.

It's a beast that's alive and constantly mutating.

2. Set up

Setting up a scene is easy prep work. If I don't have one in mind yet, I roam about some neighborhoods for a nice shooting location. I make sure that everything is in place for the next scenes: dressing up Sims, adding some story-related decor items, looking up CC if I miss something important, making sure I got all the characters I need in the same household and teleporting them on the lot I'm going to shoot in.

3. Pose selection / Shooting

Whenever I can summon enough energy and inspiration, I go in game and the first thing I do is pre-select some poses for the scene I need to shoot according to my timeline. From there, I go with the flow. I need to be hyperfocused because I'm in total improv mode. I use several poses in different angles. Sometimes a specific pose/expression gives me new ideas and I go in a different direction than what I had planned. Sometimes I cannot find the exact pose/expression I want and I have to work around that. Sometimes I'm inspired, sometimes I'm not. Very often, the game crashes and I get very upset.

The dialogues start taking shape while I'm shooting.

4. Picture selection / Writing

When I have enough screenshots to write at least one scene (although I generally wait to have several scenes ready), I start writing and make a prayer to my muse that I'll remember the dialogues I had in mind while shooting. That part is both the best and the worst. The best because I can really get "in the zone", and the worst because I easily have writer's block and get stupidly stuck on a line.

Through this whole process, I use Comic Life. I select a pic, smash it into my story template, select a speech bubble and start typing. Rinse and repeat. I sometimes rewrite entire parts, changing the order of the pics. I use about 40% of the shots I take. I do very little editing, only to correct clipping or lighting. Once I feel like I have enough pics to make an update (about 150-200 - I often have to repeat steps 3 and 4 until I'm satisfied), I export everything from Comic Life in jpg format. My husband is my proof-reader. I hate re-reading my own shit at this stage because it's smeared with my tears and blood and I just want it out.

5. Posting on Tumblr

Next I prepare the Tumblr posts, adding tags and scheduling everything. I post a preview, usually a day before the queue starts. Maybe I should leave some more time between preview and first post, but I'm too impatient to wait. IT.MUST.BE.OUT.

6. Posting on WordPress

I used to prepare the WP draft post at the same time as the Tumblr scheduling, with a date set for publication on the day of the last Tumblr posts. I don't do that anymore because I make minor edits all the frigging time and I then need to update both my Tumblr queue AND my WP draft. So I prepare my WP post once my Tumblr queue has almost run out. Since I use my WP mostly for myself, to keep some sort of table of content, it wouldn't be a big deal if I ever forgot to publish and was a few days late.

Voilà!

Like I said, a lot in common with my fellow Sims storytellers but in a slightly different order! I hadn't intended to write a whole essay, yet here we are. 🙃 Apologies, I'll shut up now. 🤐

Thank you again for the ask, Nonny!

[bathomet-writes]

it’s so easy

summary: Mikey and you had been secretly dating for over a year, and a lot has changed in both of your lives. The Kraang invasion, the people of New York, it all shook up the status quo. On a rooftop date, you and him spill the tea and reconnect about what's really important.

relationship: Mikey x F!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, secret dating, slight hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 3,191

author's note: another request for @/snipersiniora!! 💕 (ngl i listened to the reel big fish cover of “it’s not easy” while writing so this is loosely inspired by it lol)

You don’t know why in all the time you’ve spent in New York, you’ve never been up on a rooftop. The view was amazing. 

There were a couple of reasons as to why. Your hatred of high places, for one. With a strong enough breeze, you could go flying off your roof and become intimately familiar with the pavement below. Sometimes your neighbors would set up lawn chairs and shoot the shit, which was fine enough. You’ve just never been comfortable enough to want to join them. Lastly, it was a little difficult to skate on. The crowded atmosphere and uneven terrain made it the last place you would want to find yourself on a nice evening such as this. 

But, the rooftop of your building had one upside: it was the place you got to see Michelangelo. 

You clicked your heels together as you sat at an empty folding chair leftover from one of your upstairs neighbors. He wouldn’t show up for at least another 30 minutes, but you couldn’t help but jump the gun a bit and wait on the roof anyway. You’ve been keeping yourself busy, drawing random sketches onto your iPad. 

Mikey and you had been friends for a while, but you officially started dating about a year ago. Not much has changed between you two, even after the Kraang invasion. 

He was his same upbeat, eclectic self. But Mikey was also a little more confident. He carried himself differently, with a knowledge and experience you couldn’t even begin to relate to. You were a human, he was basically a superhero. 

You bite at the tip of your drawing pen. Why was it whenever you started thinking about him and his brothers, you got inexplicably frustrated. 

Was it because Raph, Donnie, and Leo still didn’t know you two were dating? 

No, not really. You and Mikey weren’t really concerned with labels. You two were content to continue hanging out like you always had, just with a little extra…intimacy.

Maybe it was the fact that you had to hang out in precarious places such as your rooftop. Why couldn’t you just go to your apartment, or the lair? 

“No, that’s not it.” You grumble to yourself, tapping the pen against your cheek.

“What’s not it?”

Mikey’s head appeared right above yours. He had just landed on the top of the wooden overhang you sat under, hanging like a spider. 

Smiling, you sit up a little more straight to give his snout a peck.

“This…caricature. I just can’t capture his likeness. It’s missing something.”

Mikey blushed, dropping from his perch to sit next to you. “Allow me to offer you my artistic perspective!”

You happily oblige and show him your screen. Thinking about your fellow tenants had made you unintentionally start to draw little doodles that looked like them. You couldn’t help wanting to draw the people you knew. Your weird, human neighbors were quite the characters. Almost a little more weird than the turtles, in your opinion.

“Oh, I know this guy. Is this the one that knocked at your door at 3 AM asking for a DVD?”

Mikey pinched to zoom in on your sketch. You don’t know whether your drawing was that accurate or if he was just great with faces. Either way, you can’t help but smile even more.

“How did you know?” You snuggle closer to Mikey, leaning in. “He insisted that I had borrowed his copy of Cats. And I was like, ‘Dale, I already own it on Blu-ray. Why in the world would I steal your DVD?’”

Mikey fell into your lap in hysterics. “NYAHAHA—! You didn’t!”

You weren’t lying about the interaction having happened, but maybe you embellished the part at the end. You just loved making Mikey laugh. 

“I did!” You beam. 

“Your neighbors are so weird, even for me. And the only neighbors I have are the sewer gators.”

You set your iPad down on the patio, scooching Mikey to lie fully in your lap. 

“Her name is Leatherhead and she’s lovely. I met her family once, on the way to the lair.”

Ignoring your sly tone, Mikey curled up into you like a lap cat. He was practically purring from how happy he was to finally be in your arms. It’s only been a couple of days since he’s had the opportunity to see you like this, and he was absolutely touch-starved.

“I missed you,” he sighs. “Patrol has been intense lately.”

His tired smile told you that he’d rather not get into it right now. You hum, petting the side of his head.

“I missed you too.”

Talking about his brothers wasn’t necessarily a taboo topic, but right now was the time for Mikey to relax, to unwind. You had plenty of stress in your own life too. Maybe it wasn’t as important as keeping the city safe, but it was tiresome to you nonetheless. 

You both just wanted to forget about everything else, just be together. That was what these rooftop hangouts were for. And if that was good enough for Mikey, it was good enough for you.

But your smile faltered, if only for a moment. 

Mikey’s eyes were closed as he continued to relish your head pets, unaware of your subtle shift in mood.

“Tell me more about your neighbors.” Turning his head, he speaks softly into your hand. “I love hearing about the people you live with. They’re interesting.”

“Well, this town is kinda ‘interesting people’ central.” You shrug.

“Yeah, I know. Are humans in other places like the ones here?”

Dragging your fingers along his textured skin, you think about it. You hadn’t really gotten around much, but you figured that NYC was a little unique compared to other major cities.

Your lips ease back into a lazy smile. 

“Sort of. This place is sort of a big Melting Pot, y’know? It doesn’t really matter where you come from, everyone ends up wherever they are…for whatever reason.”

Mikey looks up at your face, his expression dripping with curiosity.

“What’s that mean?” He smirks.

“It means that people are weird. This place has a lot of people. Therefore, New York is just about the weirdest place there is!”

You two laugh, basking in each other's presence. After looking down at Mikey, you feel a little more normal. Work, life, all of that didn’t really matter anymore. Or at least, it shouldn’t. 

“My neighbor’s aren’t all that interesting, Mikey. They’re just your run-of-the-mill folks, day drinking and sitting on the stoop.”

“Woah…” He gasps, sitting up. “Day drinking?”

Internally, you chide yourself. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me!” He smiles, zipping his lips shut.

“I shouldn’t gossip…”

You roll your eyes a bit before they land on Mike. His eager, expectant expression was just too cute. Who could say no to a face like that?

Suddenly, you’re filled with bubbly energy.

“Okay, okay! Liz told me that Bill said that Debbie’s grandma was apparently—“

You whip your head around, making sure the coast is clear. You never knew who might be listening in, your neighbors were terribly nosy.

“She snuck Hennessy into the apartment meeting. Last Sunday, when we got together with the building manager, they had coffee and stuff…”

Mikey quickly scrambles over to grab a free chair before sitting directly in front of you. Enraptured, he places his head on his hands. 

“And she added a little extra somethin’ into her mug? How scandalous!” He wiggles his eye ridge, fully getting into the story. 

You launch forward and gesture wildly with your hands. “No, that’s the thing! She put the booze…in the coffee pot.”

Mikey’s smile dropped. 

“You don’t mean—“

Grimly, you nod your head.

“I mean a whole room of people, shnackered at 10 AM. On God’s day.” You chortle. 

He covers his mouth in genuine shock. You chuckle, looking at his wide-eyed expression.

“And I know that Liz was the one who ratted her out, the bitch. She of all people would know what Hennessy tastes like, I saw her drink 5 whole cups with my own eyes!” 

Mikey moves his hands away, his voice hushed. “She sounds like a bitch.”

You kick your legs up and recline farther in your chair. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Liz was your next door neighbor. She always had a knack for being right outside your door whenever you stepped out to go to work. You left early everyday just to accommodate for the inevitable one-sided conversation. She was old, and very lonely, so you didn’t mind her chatting your ear off. 

But she was also very bitter. Even more so after the Kraang invasion.

“I swear, I keep seeing those…frog men. They flip around my windows at all hours of the night, whooping and hollering up a storm! Who do those punks think they are?”

You’ve seen a lot of different reactions from people after the turtles officially became public knowledge. Usually, it was just casual disinterest or disdain from the more conservative crowd. Old people, cops, etcetera. 

But for some reason, the people you lived with just happened to be either really old or in law enforcement. They hated all mutants, and they didn’t have any problem letting you know about it.

You nearly get lost in your own thoughts before Mikey nudges your knee.

“I think she’s the one who threw a flower pot at my head that one time.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his noggin.

Sighing, you lightly knock his leg with your foot. “Yeah, that’s Liz. If rent wasn’t so good here, I’d move out in a second.”

“Aw, they’re not so bad!” Mikey shoots a toothy smile at you. “It’s not the worst thing someone’s thrown at me.”

You meet his grin with a small frown.

“How do you do it?” 

Mikey cocks his head. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Ugh, no? Yes?” You lean back and stare up into the sky. It was a clear day, not a cloud in sight.

“You’d think people would be a little more thankful to the guys who saved their asses from alien invaders.”

You seethed, thinking about all the nasty side comments and quiet whisperings you’ve overheard in your hallways. 

“Hey, don’t get angry on my account.” Mikey reaches out and gives you a good-natured pat on the leg. “My family’s used to people wanting to kill us all the time, so a flower pot is actually a nice change of pace.”

“I guess so.”

Then, you realize it. 

This was why you were so stressed out. Whenever you think about the turtles, you can’t help but associate them with all the negative energy you’ve been surrounded in at home. You thought you had thicker skin, but you feel your heart start to sink. 

“You know, it’s funny.” 

Mikey sighs, musing to himself. 

“Sometimes I think about how weird it’s been lately. Splinter always told us it was important for us to not be seen, to stick to the shadows. It was because of the ninja thing, mostly. But I know he was trying to keep us...”

He picks nervously at his palm, tracing the lines of his hand. 

“Safe?” You ask. 

“Sheltered.”

There was a sadness creeping into his voice. You hated the sound. It was just too bittersweet for you to handle. You cautiously look back to Mikey, waiting for him to finish.

“But, then there was April. And Casey, later on. I thought there might actually be a chance for us to make it out in the human world. The whole yokai/mutant thing with Draxum was…well, a whole thing.”

Mikey briefly looked back up to make sure he wasn’t boring you too much. Not that he didn’t like to talk with you about stuff like this, it was just a little hard. 

When you give his hand an encouraging squeeze, he sighs. 

“But, I knew we kinda wouldn’t have a choice to stay in the shadows anymore. After the Kraang, that is. Leo told us we wouldn’t exactly be  getting the red carpet treatment.”

“Humans are stupid.” You huff. 

“You’re a human, and I don’t think you’re stupid at all.”

Mikey squeezed your hand back, a sad smile forming on his face. 

It wasn’t like he needed the entirety of New York to accept him and his brothers. With April, Casey, and especially you, he had all the human approval that he could ever want. He searched your face, and he knew that you were starting to slip. 

You try to swallow down the lump in your throat before speaking up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up all this.” You run your thumb along the edge of Mikey’s.

Mikey sits up, puffing out his chest. “That’s enough. I will not have you getting sad because of me!”

Suddenly, he stands up, bringing you along with him.

“I’m not sad, I’m mad!” You scoff, rubbing your nose on your sleeve. “I ought to throw ceramic vases at Liz, see how she likes it.”

Tutting you, Mikey leads you out into the middle of the roof. There was a concrete slab next to the door that led back into the building, where you had placed your backpack earlier. You watch as Mikey sneaks around, dipping behind your back, to dig through your bag.

“You know a good way to get rid of all that anger?” Mikey whispers, rising up.

“What are you scheming back there?” You cross your arms and spin around. “Stop messing with my—“

When you turn around, you see Mikey holding up your trusty pair of skates right up to your face. He held them by the shoelaces, a cheeky grin peeking around them. 

“Skate the hate away, baby!” 

“That’s a beautiful thought,” you smirk. “But I couldn’t.”

“Oh, then let me help you.”

You gasp, feeling Mikey drag you over to your chair to push you back into it. Once you fall, he moves down to pull off your sneakers and lace up your skates. 

Blushing, you watch him lovingly guide your feet in. He sticks his tongue out as he ties little bunny-ear knots.

“Mikey…!” You giggle, his fingers tickling your ankle. “This is too much.”

Whenever you started to become sad, you could always count on him to lift your spirits back up. You tried to stay as endlessly positive and go-with-the-flow as Mikey, but it was difficult sometimes. The inner optimist in you was finding it more and more hard to navigate the nihilistic world you found yourselves in.

“There! Now c’mon.” He smiles. 

Mikey lifts you back up, pulling you to glide over to the concrete by the door. 

You can’t help the goofy smile that creeps in when he spins you around. The flat surface was just big enough for you to skate a couple of inches away from him. 

Your shoulders slump, all at once feeling happy again. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” You fold your hands behind your back and circle Mikey. 

Chuckling, he tries following your face as it spins around him.

“Nothing. You were just in the right place at the right time.”

He stood there idly watching you elegantly sail past him. It was fun constantly making him have to twist around to keep eye contact with you, and you feel laughter begin to bubble up.

You snatch his hand, forcing him into an awkward dance with you. 

“Care to join me?” 

You grin from ear to ear, placing a hand upon the small of his back. Or rather, his shell. 

Surprisingly, Mikey is caught off guard by your bold move. You watch with glee as his face flushes a bright pink. He stutters, a little bashful at being led around by you instead of the other way around. 

“I g-guess I don’t have a choice?”

You pull him closer, pressing up against his plastron. “Nope!”

The two of you spin around in lazy circles for a while. The blazing sunset on the horizon brought a new feeling of warmth and comfort, a heavenly glow lighting up your eyes. The entire city looked like it was bathed in orange, Mikey’s signature color.

It was a good look for New York.

“Wow…” You sigh, marveling at the beautiful world around you.

“I know.” 

Mikey shifts a bit, managing to stand an inch or two higher than he usually is. You were both about the same height, at least that was what you kept insisting to him. But he wanted to look down at you for once. He wanted to hold you like you held him. 

“You make me feel accepted, you know.”

You blink against the light of the sun before looking back at Mikey. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You just let me be me. That’s all I need. You make me feel all…sparkly.”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a chuckle. 

“Sparkly, huh? That’s a unique adjective.”

That was the best way Mikey could describe it. You and him had so much in common, mostly in terms of your hobbies and your personalities. But there was just something about being around you so much that showed him how different you were. In a good way, obviously.

You were human, he was a mutant. There was the ninja-ing as well. You both had wildly different life experiences. 

Slotting your head between his neck and his shoulder, he hugs you tightly. 

“What about you?” 

His warm breath makes you shudder, practically melting into his hold.

“You make me feel…”

You move your skate to engage the rubber stopper. The world was seriously starting to spin.

“Shiny.”

“Hey, are you copying me?” 

Playfully scoffing, Mikey picks you right off of your feet and spins you around again. You laugh into each other's embrace, and you hold on for dear life as he pins you securely to his chest.

“It’s true! You make me feel all shiny and new.”

For a second, you feel your thoughts wander back to your earlier conversation. You don’t like having to shift into serious mode, but you needed to say just one more thing. Mikey moves away to get a better look at your face.

“I know it’s not easy. Having to save people when they don’t even—“

“No, it’s not. But when I think about all the people who do care, who do understand me…”

Mikey smiles, tipping your chin up slightly to look at him. He always wanted to do that to you. 

“It’s easy. It gets easier everyday. All I have to do is have you right here.”

Then, your heart flutters in your chest. You didn’t notice it before, but Mikey stood a little taller than you now. You don’t know if he had a growth spurt or something, but there he was. Looking at you, his eyes sparkling in the sunset, you knew there was a lot more to Mikey than anyone thought. 

Even you.

“I love rooftops,” you sigh, moving up to brush your lips against his cheek.

Angling his head around, he leans into you. 

 “I love rooftops too.”

taglist: @saspas-corner

[docholligay]

Do you think having such a personalized and detailed headcanon makes it harder to enjoy fic about the show/game that's written by others?

I mean sure, probably.

But unfortunately things I adore, for people named Doc who are me, fall into one of two buckets:

The character work and plot in this show are incredible, I find myself turning it around in my mind like a rotisserie chicken. I constantly discover new things about the show/book/game or the characters in it. I do not read fic about this, because why would I? Every answer I search for is in the text. I want to talk about this with someone, but about what is THERE, not what could be there. Ex: The Haunting of Hill House, Picnic at Hanging Rock, Piranesi, Bioshock:Infinite, Watership Down, Yellowjackets, among others.

The concepts of this could be amazing but are handled so fucking badly so consistently, in a shocking contrast to how INCONSISTENT the character work is, that all I want to do is steal it and make it better. All i want to do is turn it into something that doesn't suck ass when you look at it too hard. So I am going to take it SO seriously, and I am going to develop the rich inner lives for these characters that they lack, with intense backstories and families and motivation for how they got to be the person we know, or know sometimes, in certain episodes or shorts. Ex: Sailor Moon and Overwatch are the biggies here obviously, this is actually not an emotion I feel very often. I don't have intense backstories and extra-textual feelings and ideas about most of the stuff I read and watch, these two are just my Spiders Georg.

So! The odds on me being into something in the correct way to make me want to Seek Treasure Elsewhere but also I have a chill enough attitude about how the characters are that Any Dream Will Do is almost nil. I do not in ANY way mean this in a shady way, but I mostly read published adult fiction for entertainment and not fanfic. I am very picky about my fanfic. So, "plus these two new red and blue girls into Starbucks" often won't work for me, because the reasons to have Haruka and Michiru meet in a coffee shop are completely different from any of the reasons Fareeha and Angela might meet in a coffee shop, and so many of those types are archtypical plug and play stuff. Honestly, I have skated the idea of making a cheat sheet of fanon archetypes of various characters and buying a typewriter to sell 100-200 word 'quick fic' at cons with my sister. That's how common it is to use these archetypes. This is not a criticism! At all!

But, to take the two couples above, I have read so much BORING SHIT about both HM and FA that I could throw up. Lesbian couples have a lot of very milquetoast writing about them, and a lot of meet-cute which isn't really my bag.

But there are authors I love! @oathkeeper-of-tarth was and is one of the best harumichi writers out there and we don't even have all the same headcanons. The rare occasions @verbforverb decides to grace me with "Jewish Mercy I don't Have To Write" I pop a can of bubbly in the tub. And on both fields of battle @keyofjetwolf has stuff I've had bookmarked for years, and there are some things even within Rei's backstory and history that we disagree on.

Actually, to that point what I like is good writing. You can write me into believing nearly anything. There are things I believe about Amelie when I'm reading @lemon-embalmer's stuff that when I go back to my own world, aren't true, but when I'm in her world who the fuck cares, I'm having a great time. EVEN MORE to the point, I read @moonlight-frittata's stupid sun and moon lesbian League of Legends shit and I would rather shoot myslef than know ANYTHING about the game, but unfortunately she has a beautiful turn of phrase and plot flow to her work that I just....read anyway, because it is good. Fucking @tallangrycockatiel had me like 25 pages or so into a story before I was like, "OH SHIT, IS THIS SLASH??? WAIT I DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT BOYS' LOVE!! NO!!" *hits next page* And I still could not care less about that podcast and would never listen to it, and if I did I would be massively disappointed because to my mind, her John and Arthur are the actual article, and whatever the fuck is going on in the source material can eat my dick.

So, yes, I DO think that having a very particular point of view is going to mean I back out of a story where like, "Lena stepped out of her Chelsea flat, custom leather high heels clicking against the step" sometimes, or, you know, "Haruka put down her copy of War and Peace, each meticulous note codified by a color-coded tab. Blue was for historical references to research, green for character analysis, yellow for themes, blah blah blah*" But I am actually shockingly open minded in what I will read, often to the point that I'm reading stuff from SHIT I DO NOT LIKE OR CARE ABOUT, because the quality of the writing is excellent. So, also no.

*I met someone who read books like this and I suddenly realized what the literary equivalent of 'knowing someone is a serial killer' was.