#also of course assume they communicate with you ahead of time and are not like planning a part last minute

[icewindandboringhorror]

Just curious what the average level of personal investment in these sorts of things is. Like, how much do people usually get into silly stuff like this their friends ask of them? etc. etc. Which I know, only surveying a small sample on a very specific website means I'm not getting an exact average idea lol, but.. curious nonetheless .. Maybe reblog for bigger sample size but also this is not very serious at all/not worth a call to action gbhjbhjb

[fatesundress]

⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this. 

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same. 

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it. 

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction? 

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet. 

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner. 

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party. 

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten. 

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again." 

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him. 

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins. 

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks. 

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them. 

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did." 

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.” 

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything —  is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting. 

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers. 

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient. 

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still. 

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in. 

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him. 

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

[forestdeath1]

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 2. Intelligence and recklessness. Sirius Black (and James Potter, with a bit of Remus and Peter too)

Or who is the smartest of the Marauders?

Sirius and James are described multiple times as exceptionally intelligent. They didn’t need help from Remus or Lily to pass their exams. James didn’t envy Sirius for being ahead academically, and Sirius didn’t ask Remus for help. They could handle everything on their own.

For example, McGonagall rarely gives praise without good reason. Here are her words about James (often unfairly depicted as less intelligent than Sirius or Remus) and Sirius:

‘Precisely,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course – exceptionally bright, in fact – but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers –’

Being "exceptionally bright" is an extremely high praise for intellectual ability from McGonagall.

As for Peter, she speaks rather average of him:

‘Pettigrew... that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?’ said Madam Rosmerta. ‘Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now...’ She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

Moreover, Peter "was always hopeless at duelling," according to McGonagall. This means that over 7 years, Peter failed to impress McGonagall with his academic achievements. As the head of his house, she was aware of all his grades. Perhaps he was just an average student, but then it's unclear why McGonagall was "often rather sharp with him." She doesn't seem like the type to be sharp over trivial matters.

Slughorn:

‘Well, anyway, he (Sirius) was a big pal of your father’s at school. The whole Black family had been in my house, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame – he was a talented boy. I got his brother Regulus when he came along, but I’d have liked the set.’

While Lupin’s words might be biased, he often speaks quite judiciously about people around him, thus:

"Look, Harry, what you’ve got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did – everyone thought they were the height of cool – if they sometimes got a bit carried away –"

He confirms that Sirius and James were the best at everything in school. Meaning academically first of all, because school is primarily about studying.

"It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong – one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it."

And a bit more praise from Lupin towards Sirius and James' giftedness. They were both gifted – Sirius and James.

Even Dumbledore acknowledges:

‘Sirius told me all about how they became Animagi last night,’ said Dumbledore, smiling. ‘An extraordinary achievement – not least, keeping it quiet from me.’

So, not only did they become Animagi (Peter wasn’t much help, according to Lupin), created the Marauder's Map, which contained very unusual magic (they, of course, all created the Map together, but based on the description above, I can assume that the main magical component of the map was the responsibility of James and Sirius), excelled in their studies, created a magical FaceTime – an artefact for communication among themselves, they also managed to keep a lot from the school's headmaster and other teachers. Intelligence plus cunning.

Sirius and James' reaction to others' "stupidity":

‘How thick are you, Wormtail?’ said James impatiently. ‘You run round with a werewolf once a month –’ 

‘Keep your voice down,’ implored Lupin. 

‘Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake,’ he heard Sirius say. ‘I’ll be surprised if I don’t get “Outstanding” on it at least.’ 

‘Me too,’ said James.

Here, I don’t want to dwell on their rudeness, but rather on the reaction itself. Often Lupin is seen studying more than anyone (I too like to see him buried in books), but perhaps Lupin simply needed to study more to pass his exams. He buried himself in textbooks not because he was the smartest, but because it was necessary for him. Remus is clearly not dumb; he became a professor at Hogwarts, he’s also described as intelligent in the canon, but things came much easier to James and Sirius, and they were well aware of how smart they were. Hence their reaction. When a teenager is confident in their superiority, and their intellect is often validated by external factors (grades, teachers' praise), such a reaction from James and Sirius, considering their personalities, is quite expected for their still maturing characters.

‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here...’ and he (Lupin) held out his book.

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

Sirius' reaction is unequivocal. He doesn’t need to read anything like Lupin, memorising paragraphs. To him, it’s all "rubbish" that he already knows. Sirius likely had a very good long-term memory.

Sirius' memory and attention to detail even after 12 years in Azkaban are also quite remarkable.

"Congratulations on getting past the Horntail, whoever put your name in that Goblet shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its weakest point –"

‘That’s what Krum did!’ Hermione whispered.

Clearly, during his 12 years in Azkaban, he didn’t need this knowledge. It’s unlikely he ever used this knowledge in practice. But he remembered it, ready to mention it right away, not having peeked in any books. Even Hermione didn’t know.

‘My God,’ said Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again.

‘His front paw...’

‘What about it?’ said Ron defiantly.

‘He’s got a toe missing,’ said Black.

And this is about his attentiveness. To notice that a rat is missing a toe from a small photograph while sitting in Azkaban… I wouldn’t have noticed even without Azkaban.

As for adult Sirius, the fourth book shows many of Sirius' reasonable assumptions that eventually are confirmed. What people mistake for stupidity is his recklessness, as well as his willingness to die for those he loves, to protect them at any cost. His recklessness is usually related to this.

‘The Ministry’s forced through another decree, which means we’re not allowed to have Quidditch teams –’

‘Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?’ said Sirius. There was a short pause.

‘How did you know about that?’ Harry demanded.

‘You want to choose your meeting places more carefully,’ said Sirius, grinning even more broadly.

‘The Hog’s Head, I ask you.’

‘Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!’ said Hermione defensively. ‘That’s always packed with people –’

‘Which means you’d have been harder to overhear,’ said Sirius. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn, Hermione.’

Hermione is very smart, but Sirius immediately explains their tactical mistake. But it still sounds somewhat condescending.

‘But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk –’ Hermione began.

‘You sound like Molly,’ said Sirius. ‘This was the only way I could come up with answering Harry’s letter without resorting to a code – and codes are breakable.’

It might seem reckless, but he's right, codes can be cracked. And he really wanted to reply to his godson – it's more about his inability to refuse the only living person he loves now and his desire to protect him.

Sirius repeatedly makes correct deductions in the fourth book, here are a couple of examples, but generally, the fourth book is full of rational remarks, assumptions, and overall, he's ready to provide Harry with information, especially in the fifth book, when Harry is having the toughest time and most people simply refuse to tell him anything.

‘Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion,’ said Harry, ignoring, as usual, Ron and Hermione’s winces. ‘So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention.’

‘Well, now he’s back it’s bound to hurt more often,’ said Sirius.

‘So you don’t think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?’ Harry asked.

‘I doubt it,’ said Sirius. ‘I know her by reputation and I’m sure she’s no Death Eater –’

‘Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry –’

‘You and the rest of the world,’ said Harry bitterly.

‘– and, reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman’s article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm,’ Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, ‘but I don’t think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one’s going to look into it too closely, Mad-Eye’s heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn’t mean he can’t still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had.’

And much more.

For Harry in the fourth and fifth books, Sirius became the one who supported him and provided information, and all his attempts to break through to Harry, risking being caught – this is an expression of love and desire to help his godson. It's precisely in such moments that his recklessness is revealed – when he wants to help.

Moreover Sirius often gives Harry good advice, there is just one example:

‘Don’t lose your temper,’ said Sirius abruptly. ‘Be polite and stick to the facts.’

‘Good luck,’ said Lupin.

‘I’m sure it will be fine.’ ‘And if it’s not,’ said Sirius grimly, ‘I’ll see to Amelia Bones for you...’

Here's the interweaving of Sirius' rationality and recklessness. He knows the right way. But he himself is ready to throw himself into the line of fire. He never gave Harry impulsive advice. But when it comes to himself or when someone needs protecting, Sirius has a different standard of normalcy.

In conclusion, throughout the series, Sirius makes a number of insightful remarks, and his intelligence and giftedness are exceptionally highly regarded by Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lupin. I wouldn’t attribute his pathological desire to help those he loves to stupidity. Furthermore, adult Sirius shows recklessness mainly when it concerns his own safety and life — he doesn't cherish his own life if it means the well-being of someone he loves, thus he readily throws himself into danger.

Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. (Dumbledore)

[karniss-bg3]

The Tragedy of Faith

So between tumblr and twitter I've read various takes on Kar'niss and what draws people to him. For some it's the monster fucking appeal, for others it's the desire to fix a clearly broken individual. There are in-betweens and of course this is subjective and depends on the person. Act 2 spoilers ahead. Where my personal interest comes from is how good Larian communicated the tragedy of faith and what a cult can do to a person. Kar'niss is a creature that has been broken by not one God, but two. Lolth broke him physically, the Absolute broke him mentally. His entire identity has been lost to a deity to the point he raises her in his speech. Referring to her as "Majesty" and "Queen", two terms you don't really hear anyone else address her as, he has elevated her to his final savior and leader. He also often refers to himself as "we" and "us", cementing him as part of the hive mind rather than holding any individuality of his own. When he does refer to himself as "I", it's mostly to show further loyalty to the Absolute, to maintain a position of importance in his fractured mind. Cults are notorious for targeting the most vulnerable in society as they are the easiest to mold and manipulate to their doctrine. The fact that goblins are one of the main races that fall to the Absolute's influence is telling in that regard, as they are often dismissed by the other races. Kar'niss was ripe for the picking, an easy target to lure into her arms. No doubt he was found shortly after Lolth twisted him into a drider and banished him, he didn't stand a chance.

Not even taking those elements into account, Kar'niss came from a society that is infamous for cruelty and violence, especially toward males of their species. Drow greatest hits include, but are not limited to: -Killing their young if they are not aesthetically pleasing enough. In other words, ugly. -Sacrificing every third born son to Lolth.

-If a male finds the favor of two competing females, it often doesn't end well for the male. The rival woman will kill the male and chuck his dead body into his opponents bedchambers, just for the sake of being petty.

-Love and emotions of any sort are in short supply, if not outright unseen as a general rule. The nature of drow to backstab and seek to rise in the ranks makes it near impossible to be anything other than fierce and domineering.

With these things in mind, it's easy to assume that Kar'niss had a turbulent upbringing and likely suffered untold abuse from many around him. It's not to say that good or reasonable drow don't exist, it's just not commonplace in a Lolthite society. Unfortunately, the game doesn't give us a great deal to go on as far as his past. What little he reveals only happens after he's dead, and even then its really a cliffs notes version. What we do know is that his devotion is intense and unwavering. He's willing to die for the Absolute because in his mind the Absolute are the only ones who care about him. We even see fellow followers talk down to him, dismiss him, and verbally eye-roll the guy. To them, his fanaticism is over the top and they follow the same God he does.

All told, this leads me to the conclusion that Kar'niss has never, or rarely, known true compassion in his entire life. He's been used as a puppet for one deity or another, and likely mocked or cast aside even when he did everything right. It doesn't surprise me that there are folks who desire a romance option, or barring that a side venture to break him free of the Absolute's hold. We don't know if Kar'niss did terrible things in his past, or where his moral compass sits as his entire personality revolves around God. But I'd love to know, and I crave more background on him in one form or another.

I've spent too much time thinking about different paths that could happen in-game. I also understand it's incredibly unlikely he'll ever become a companion. The sheer amount of time and resources needed to give a character a satisfying arc is likely more than Larian can do with other constraints, but maybe we'll be pleasantly surprised. So Kar'niss lovers, platonic, romantic, or everything in-between...I gotchu fam. We stan the spooder bby. Someone get that man a blanket and a nice mug of hot cocoa. And a cult de-programming kit, one of those would be good.

[meowzfordayz]

when you're apart

Author’s Note: is my Sanemi favoritism showing? 🤍 Spoiler Alert: yes. 😂 Don’t mind my psychology major brain showing ~a bit too. 🤓

when you’re apart

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,300

CW: anxiety disorder, explicit language, mild sexual content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I was wondering if you could do how the men hashira react to a female reader with separation anxiety

I have a fear of being alone which makes me very clingy. My longtime boyfriend recently broke up with me due to me being “to much to deal with.”

Being clingy is such a bother I know I just hate being alone

~faqs~

When you’re apart…

… Gyomei doesn’t mind receiving calls from you throughout the day. He’s endlessly patient, always willing to listen, and warns you in advance if he can’t talk for long. His strategy for setting and respecting boundaries? Planning ahead and communicating his availability to make sure you feel prioritized and included in his decision making, while still fulfilling his own wants and needs.

… Obanai dislikes it as much as you do, but is ~somewhat more subtle about it. He, at least, has Kaburamura to keep him company, but kissing you is decidedly more pleasant. He’s mindful about maintaining healthy boundaries and expectations—he knows codependency shouldn’t be romanticized—but he’s also so wholly in love with you, that sometimes he gives up and surprises you anyway. “Obanai? You’re two hours early?? Are you okay???” He nods sheepishly, already pulling you into a hug, “I’m fine. Missed you.” “Is Sanemi going to complain to me the next time I see him?” you sigh, scrunched grin revealing your contentment despite the exasperation in your tone. “Probably, I don’t care. I left him enough to cover more than my share of the tab.”

… Mitsuri totally understands your anxiety, and is lovingly firm about ensuring you don’t slip into unhealthy habits. “You can text me anytime, but only call if there’s an emergency, okay?” she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your earlobe. You nod slightly, resisting the urge to pout. “I’ll be home before you know it.” Even though it stings, you know it’s never personal. Her willingness to draw straightforward boundaries, as well as her willingness to cross them if you’re truly upset, are just another reason to cherish her.

… Shinobu checks in every couple of hours. Sometimes it’s just a single sentence text, other times a quick call, but she knows how important feeling connected is to you. It’s important to her too, of course, but she’s apt to lose track of time when she’s at the hospital or her lab—she enjoys her work—so she puts in conscious effort to be proactive about your anxiety. When she anticipates a busier or longer day, she’ll ask, “Is it okay if I only check in during meals today?” Generally, you’ll reassure her that, “Absolutely, I’m so proud of you,” and if you’re having a low day, then she always figures out a compromise with you before she leaves.

… Kyojuro unknowingly reassures you, because—apparently—everything reminds him of you. Whether it’s a photo of a flower shortly after he arrives at work Pretty flower, but you’re prettier 🌻, a photo of the sky during his lunch break The cloud formations remind me of you, so soft and mesmerizing ☁️, or a blurry selfie as he finally heads home for the day Cannot wait to see you! 😁, you’re kept in the loop. The one time his phone fell into a puddle (he was trying to photograph a reflection of willow branches Elegant and dreamy, like you 🌿), he immediately visited the nearest shop to borrow their landline Hi, yes, how are you today? Would it be possible for me to make a call? I am happy to purchase something. I would just like to tell my partner that I will be unavailable for the day.

… Sanemi often forgets to explicitly text, call, or otherwise contact you. He doesn’t mean to aggravate your anxiety: he just doesn’t quite ~get it, and assumes it stems from insecurity or jealousy — which also confuses him. “You have nothing to worry about. How could I fall in love with someone else when I’m already in love with you?” he snorts, lightly tapping your nose. “That’s not…” you bite at your lip, unsure how to explain yourself. “I’m not big on texting, you know that. It’s not that I specifically dislike texting you.” You smile despite yourself, eyes rolling fondly, “I know it’s not specific to me.” “So then what’s the issue?” he’s determined to understand. “I’m afraid of being alone,” you shrug, gesturing vaguely, “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.” Arms crossing, he leans in, forehead bumping yours, voice warm and low on your skin as you gulp, “It’s okay to be afraid of things, and being afraid isn’t nothing.” Arms uncrossing, he settles his hands on your hips, kneading gently as he pulls back slightly, fixing an even gaze on your flushed expression, “I can’t be with you all the time, but I can promise that I love you and think about you.” “All the time?” you ask quietly. It’s his turn to blush, eyes closing as he dips his face into your neck, muttering softly, “All the damn time.”

… Muichiro is a bit absentminded, and rarely thinks to check his phone, but he sets reminders—around noon, and later in the afternoon—to make up for it. If he’s occupied and misses his usual look-at-his-phone time(s), then he’s never bothered by a call from you coming through (besides your number, his phone’s always on Do Not Disturb). In the bathroom? He’ll pick up. About to bite into his lunch? He’ll put it aside. Presenting during a meeting? He’ll literally answer his phone mid sentence, and leave the room (creative liberty: thank gosh he’s the boss hah). He’s aware of his head-in-the-clouds tendencies, just as he’s aware of your anxiety, and feels that having a specific routine is perfectly fair: if he forgets to uphold his end of your expectations, then you’ve every right to remind him. Conversely, if he’s feeling overwhelmed, he’s more than capable of reasserting his own needs — an infinite practice of mutual respect and taking necessary space.

… Giyuu feels uneasy too, but his discomfort stems primarily from how most people tend to socially drain him — you’re one of few that he can feel both stimulated and rested around. Therefore, if it’s a spend-time-with-you versus spend-time-around-others situation, then he’d prefer to be with you. Spend-time-with-you versus spend-time-by-himself situations are more complicated. It takes a lot of discussion, some heavy evenings apart, and tense evenings together, but you gradually nurture a shared understanding and acceptance of your varying needs. He’s always happy to reassure you that I’m not upset with you, nor am I tired of you; I’m just tired, while you’re slowly learning to trust him and his commitment to loving you.

… Tengen could care less about how clingy you are. Super duper clingy? He loves it. Not clingy at all? He’s cool and confident — he knows you adore him as much as he adores you. His easygoingness, however, isn’t the most productive in terms of processing and reducing your overall anxiety. In fact, you eventually have to tell him that he shouldn’t answer your texts or calls immediately, every single time, without a hint of irritation, because it reinforces your self soothing behaviors. “But I’m happy to?!” he grins, kissing the top of your head. “I know, and I appreciate you,” you chuckle, tucked snugly into his side, “But I don’t want to feel afraid of being alone-” “Sooo don’t be alone!” he interrupts enthusiastically, “Again, I’m happy to keep you company!” Inhaling deeply, you gently grip his jaw, a silent request for him to focus, “And again, I appreciate you, but sometimes I have to feel afraid to stop feeling afraid. If I’m never alone, then I can’t ever feel afraid,” hesitating, voice softer now, “And I know you’ll promise to never leave me, but shit happens. Y’know?” He’s silent, maroon eyes steady and tender as he holds your gaze. Before you can nervously murmur Tengen?, he touches his nose to your forehead, still smiling. “I love you. I’ll do my best to help, even from a distance.” “Well don’t go too far away,” you quip. “Of course not,” he laughs, “I’ll just go wherever you tell me to,” declared earnest and true.

[pathetichimbos]

Ok actually I've been in love with your toughts about Thomas, YOU'RE AN AMAZING WRITER!!!

Btw, I can't stop thinking about how this man deserved a childhood friend that would eventually become his lover, someone that decided to treat him like an human being once and discovered he's just really sweet boy and not a monster.

Do you think that would change anything about how Thomas behaves in the future?

Oh, this is something I have thought about, I could write a whole fic on the AU, but let's not bite off more than we can chew and put that idea to the side for a future project. Please bear in mind that this post may seem lesser than my others and more rushed, that was quite literally because I had to continuously stop myself from writing endless drabbles on this idea.

But, I digress. Let's dive into the factual and realistic results of giving Thomas a childhood friend.

So, as we know, Thomas has had a lot of health issues from birth, and the Hewitt family did their best to get him the medical help he needed, taking him to doctors up until he was about thirteen or fourteen.

We also know that Thomas has been bullied for most of his life, and was isolated from his peers and community at a young age.

And we know that Thomas is some flavor of neuordivergent, so if we add all of these things together, we get a school record full of absences, low grades, and detentions from fights he didn't start, because we all know that in small southern towns, teachers really don't give a shit who starts the fight, they care about who's family has the better reputation.

So, he's in an out of school from the get go, has a bad reputation with all his teachers (and going into every new grade because teachers talk), and struggles with learning in the traditional way.

This starts tons of rumors about him.

They float all around the school, everyone knows who Thomas is, and no one in particular likes him.

But! Let's back up here, and take it back to, oh, I don't know, first, second grade? Around that time frame.

Thomas is still a little dude, being harassed and bullied by his peers and generally not having a fun time.

But, this time around, we'll drop another little dude in there. (that's you!)

And this little dude (non-gender term) doesn't particularly care about Thomas' deformities and disabilities. Who would?

So, you start hanging out with him. And Thomas, (who we all know thrives on positive attention), is confused, but not unwelcoming.

I don't think he'd be really clingy right of the bat, but give it a school year (maybe two if he's out of school a lot that particular year), and he's going to be a lot more comfortable with you, and that's what's going to lead to that clinginess.

Especially if you're nonchalant about grabbing his hand or touching him in general, because, remember, most people are afraid to even come near him, so the fact that you don't care and are willing to just casually touch him, is a huge thing in his eyes, and as he gets older, he's going to want more.

So, we'll skip ahead a bit until y'all are 10-12ish, and at this point, you're Thomas' best friend. Everyone knows you two hang out, the Hewitts love you, and it leads to a bit more isolation on your end, because no one wants to be friends with the freak, let alone the freaks weird best friend. (and yes, you're weird, I know you are because you're listening to me rant about leatherface /affectionate <3)

But, this also opens Thomas up to people a bit more, as the few people that do talk to you, eventually talk to him, maybe not go as far as to be his friends, but enough to be friendly.

Of course, some people are fake, and they'll ditch the both of you the moment the 'popular' kids find out they talk to you.

And other people don't, it's middle school, life in general sucks. Y'all are just trying to survive your way to highschool.

Now, if we assume you help tutor Thomas and you help keep him out of trouble (i.e. a large tree limb tends to deter bullies), we can assume his grades will go up, which will probably get his teachers off his back. All of these things are good. Thomas has a real friend, and not everyone treats him like a monster. His grades are better. His family is proud of him.

But Thomas still has mental health issues. And just like he hid them from his family, he hides them from you as well. His peers and community may have shunned and isolated him, but he also shuns and isolates himself from his family and friends, so I believe that despite being clingy and wanting to be around you a lot, if he hits a depressive episode, he's going to isolate from everyone.

That's what leads to his self mutlilation.

He slices the skin off his cheeks in an attempt to "fix" his deformities, believing that if he just gets rid of them, his disease will go away.

...But it doesn't. And he doesn't get to see you for a long time, a worried and frightened Luda Mae keeping her baby locked away and protected from the world while he heals.

That's when Thomas stops speaking. The healing wounds and eventual scars make it harder for him to speak, making anything more than a mutter or whisper painful for him.

This is when he finally drops out of school. It's a small southern town in the early 1950s, so there's no fight to stop him, after all, he's expected to help his family run the farm.

When he finally sees you again, he's worried you'll have changed your mind about him, and even though you haven't done anything wrong, it takes time for him to trust you again, his own self doubt ruining his confidence in your friendship.

But, after that, you're pretty much inseparable again. Everyone in town knows that if they see one of you, the other isn't far behind. Thomas still struggles a lot on his own during this time, and I don't believe he'd be capable of loving himself enough at this point to love you, or at least, I don't think he'd believe you actually like him, and for the sake of this post, we'll keep it that way.

Thomas spends a lot of time at his house at this point, so you spend a lot of time after school there with him. His house is practically your house. Luda Mae, Charlie, and Monty all know that once school lets out you're headed over, and they set an extra plate at dinner for you. (They don't know how Thomas could be so possibly blind to your affection towards him, but other than Charlie's stray comments encouraging Thomas to 'give it a shot', they mind their business)

Once Thomas gets a job at the slaughterhouse, and you get your own job in town, you'll often walk to the slaughterhouse after work to meet Thomas just finishing his shift, and the two of you will walk together until you have to separate to go to your own house.

It breaks people's minds seeing how soft Thomas is with you, their own preconceived ideas about the man leaving them baffled when he's gentle and caring to his friend.

It's about his early to mid twenties, when people start looking at you as more than just his friend, and as someone to actually chase and date, that Thomas finally snaps.

You don't know what comes over your best friend, but he becomes extremely affection and protective of you, no one can approach you in a flirtatious way without Thomas following close behind, simply standing behind you as a warning for them to move on.

But he doesn't actually try to date you. He's still torn by his own poor self esteem. It drives you insane.

You'll have to confront him, and give him an ultimatum. You can't keep playing this game, where he refuses to let you out of his sight but runs away every time you try to make a move.

He caves, obviously, not willing to lose you in any capacity, but your relationship is slow and careful, working at his pace as he learns to accept himself and your love for him, which takes a very long time.

He's not comfortable with any PDA, just barely letting you hold his hand when you meet him after work.

"But we've always held hands." You point out, and he looks away with a shrug.

It's different now.

But, let's step away from the drabble territory. I've already had to rewrite this post like five times now.

Over the years, Thomas becomes more and more comfortable with your relationship, and you have to teach him practically everything. He genuinely doesn't know anything going into this. And I mean anything.

As the town starts to die, and your family decides to leave, the Hewitts welcome you with open arms, but Luda Mae moves you into the guest room. After all, you're not married.

That doesn't stop you from sneaking into his room at night though.

But, despite the implication I just made, I don't think Thomas would be ready for actual sex until marriage. He's still a traditional man, just the way his mother raised him.

But, again, not my main point. Stick with me, I'm wrapping it up now.

All in all, I don't think Thomas would be that much different. A little more self confidence and self esteem, sure, but he'll still be Thomas. When the factory shuts down, he'll still snap, and he'll still kill the supervisor. He'll still start preparing human meat like he's asked. But other than feeling a bit more comfortable in his own skin and mind, he wouldn't be much different. He's still our same old Tommy.

Ok, that's all for now. Thanks for sending in the ask love <3

[p1xelpc]

Wait, You Exist?

[ Plain text: Wait, You Exist? ]

Recently I wrote about abled perception of (visibly) disabled people. I wrote of their disrespect and dehumanization. I thought that I had gotten all of my words about that out. Then I read some posts from my English professor.

I want to preface this by saying that I do not believe that he wrote these things with ill-intent. He just didn’t think about us. He forgot that we exist. Or maybe he just never learned that we exist. Maybe he’s never had our existence shoved in his face to prove that we are alive. That does not change the impact.

“If you are lucky and haven’t had a job.” This is probably meant to refer to people who are financially stable. Probably supposed to be about people that chose not to get a job. But they aren’t the only people that don’t have jobs. This man works at a community college. Most of the unemployed people there aren’t going to be rich. We attend community college because it is cheap and accessible. Take a guess at why we wouldn’t have jobs.

Visibly “different” people (whether race, gender, disability, whatever) do not get the same opportunities as people that fit the standard. As soon as we are noted as “different,” we have less of a chance to get a job. And that’s for those of us able to work. I am attending school in the hopes that I can get a job that is even close to accessible to me. Because currently? My heavily accommodated schooling is barely accessible.

“I assume you are taking this course online because you are all busy folks with lives.” This one is probably true for a lot, or even the majority, of his class. But that shouldn’t be his only assumption. I am taking online courses because in-person classes are a lot harder to accommodate for me. 

I require a carer at all times outside of my home. I cannot leave the house multiple times in a row, and frequently I am only able to leave once or twice a week maximum. I can only shower once a week, peers would have complaints. I am unable to speak. I can’t walk safely. I can’t propel myself reliably. I need help to understand speech and to work out responses. Leaving the house is a rarity usually reserved for necessary doctor appointments.

I am not a busy person. I barely have a life! Almost 100% of my socializing is online. Same with shopping. And creating. Hell, I can’t even remember what an abled life looks like. Exercise maybe? Regardless, most of my day is spent in bed, in a mostly dark room, playing and socializing on my phone or laptop. Some days I may write or design something. But mostly I just play and socialize. Less emphasis on the socializing. I’m not complaining. I still enjoy the life I do have. It just definitely is not what he is talking about.

There are so often little bits like that in what I read and see. Wording that an abled person wouldn’t ever clock as ableist. Assumptions that ignore disabled people. It’s knives small enough to slip past shields and stab directly into me. They aren’t helped by context. Ableds just don’t like to pay enough attention to us to figure out what ableism looks like. 

There are other little things too. Making everyone write using Times New Roman (I can’t read that font). Dropping late papers an entire letter grade (I have bad time blindness). Not allowing people to work ahead (yet posting everything on day 0). 

The first assignment includes music and peer review. That seems almost fine, almost like nothing to complain about. Except that I cannot understand music that I have not intensely studied and I cannot intensely study music that hurts my ears (which is a lot of music). Also music and its meaning is so deeply personal that peer review is nearly useless for what he wants to use it for. My allistic classmates are not going to understand why I chose this song to connect to my experiences. Neither are my autistic classmates. I have to choose between authenticity and being understood to pass that assignment, which seems to go directly against what he is trying to teach us. 

He describes his teaching as less “out-dated” and yet it is still incredibly exclusive. Then again, he didn’t even write his own description.

[elminx]

Energy Update: Mercury Retrograde, 4/1/2024

Starting on April 1st, Mercury enters retrograde 2/4 of 2024. This retrograde runs from 27°-15° Aries and will make thrice repeating conjunctions to our Wounded Healer Chiron and double conjunctions with our North Node. Retrograde Mercury will also conjunct both our Sun and Venus once (as it does in most retrograde cycles).

The Basics

Mercury, our planet of communication, technology, and travel, is the fastest-moving planet in our solar system and retrogrades 3 to 4 times every year. This means that Mercury’s retrograde cycle is “business as usual” and isn’t something that should be feared but it is a change in the energy signature of one of our personal planets, so it’s worth paying attention and making adjustments where necessary.

Retrogrades don’t mean that the planet ACTUALLY is moving backward, of course. It is a perspective shift in our perception of the planetary movement through our skies. In this way, our perspectives and perceptions can get a bit twisted during these times and it is easy to miss key details or communicate ineffectively.

During Mercury’s retrograde, Mercury traces its path backward in our skies and it is considered better to go over your work rather than start something new. Mercury passes over these degrees in the sky thrice: the first time during its pre-retrograde shadow, the second time while it moves backward during its retrograde, and again a third time while it moves forward in its post-retrograde shadow. Because of this, we all get the cosmic opportunity to relearn and refocus on certain things that are going awry in our lives.

By looking at the degrees of Mercury’s retrograde and comparing it to your birth chart, you can get an idea of how Mercury’s retrograde cycle might affect you. If you don’t want to do this yourself, you can always purchase a Mercury retrograde transit chart from me over on Kofi.

Mercury retrogrades affect some people more than others. By order of significance, these people are most likely to be affected by a Mercury retrograde:

If you have Sun, Moon, Ascendant in Gemini and Virgo, or Mercury closely conjunct (within 2°) to your Sun, Moon, or Ascendant

If your natal Mercury was in retrograde or out of bounds

If the current retrograde crosses over your Sun, Moon, or Ascendant (in conjunction) or makes a square or opposition

If the current retrograde crosses over your Mercury, Venus, or Mars or makes a square or opposition with them

If the current retrograde makes a trine with one of your personal planets or a sextile to your Sun, Moon, or Ascendant

If you work in a job that involves technology, communication, or travel or are currently undergoing a task that involves one of these domains during this retrograde cycle

If you live with, are in a relationship with, or closely work with a person who meets the above criteria

One can assume that the more of these factors in play, the stronger you may experience the effects of a Mercury retrograde cycle. This isn’t to say that what you experience will be bad or wrong – some people experience a lot of freedom from Mercury’s journey. The more open you are willing to give up control and stay open to the ever-changing landscape of a Mercury cycle, the easier it will be.

The Nitty Gritty

Now that we’ve gone over the basics, let’s take a look at the specifics of THIS Mercury retrograde cycle. Mercury will retrograde backward from 27° Aries to 15° Aries. This puts the stressors of this cycle on the cardinal signs (Aries, Cancer, Libra, and Capricorn) first and fire signs secondarily. Here we can see that we might get dammed up a bit when it comes to focus, forward motion, and motivation (all things that cardinal and fire signs rule).

There’s a pretty notable lack of planetary aspects with this Mercury retrograde. Mercury will conjunct both the Sun and Venus as it moves backward which almost always happens (very occasionally Venus is already ahead of Mercury and getting ready for a retrograde of her own), but otherwise, we will not experience a single significant aspect to the other planets. What we do see are repeated conjunctions to the asteroid Chiron and the North Node. Moreover, we will experience a major Aries stellium between retrograde Mercury, Venus, Chiron, and the North Node in mid-April.

Let’s unpack this a little bit further.

The asteroid Chiron, often called the Wounded Healer, represents a recurring pain point that must be explored thoroughly to heal. Your own personal pain point can be found by the placement of Chiron in your natal birth chart by looking at its sign and house placements and any aspects it might share with the rest of your chart. Transiting Chiron shows a societal pain point that needs further discovery. This Chiron in Aries transit has been all about the pain of individuality – both in the ways that standing out from the crowd can be hurtful and lonely, but also pain points around where we wanted to individualize, but couldn’t. We each have our own stories about the individualization journey – some of us were forced to conform when we didn’t want to, others struggle with masking, and others still want desperately to fit in but can’t seem to no matter what they try. Your experience with this transit will likely be very personal but it WILL be activated by this Mercury retrograde.

Additionally, Chiron will be closely conjunct with the North Node all through this Mercury retrograde cycle. The lunar nodes aren’t physical objects in the sky. Instead, they are mathematical points that represent the precise area that the Sun, Moon, and Earth must be in relation to one another to create our eclipses. There are two nodes (North and South) that always move around the earth in opposition to one another – because of this you will always find them in opposite signs of the horoscope wheel. When the Sun comes close to these points, we enter eclipse season.

This isn’t a post about eclipse season exactly (though a large portion of this retrograde will coincide with eclipse season), so I will try to be brief here. In our natal charts, the placements of our North and South Nodes are considered the axis of fate – it is believed that most individuals will move toward the North Node and away from the South (by sign and house placement). On the other hand, the transiting lunar nodes affect where the energy of the collective is pointed – again, towards the North Node and away from the South. Currently, our North Node is in fiery Aries and our South Node is in airy Libra. We can see, in this way, that our attention is pointed towards independence and individualism (Aries, 1st house) and away from relationships and codependencies (Libra, 7th house). Again, you will have your triggers around this transit – made up both by your natal birth chart and your lived experience – that you will have to face during this time.

Chiron conjuncts the North Node exactly at 17° Aries on 3/5 but as both are rather slow-moving, they will still be in close conjunction through this retrograde cycle. Chiron conjunct the North Node is THE healing aspect of the decade – one could say that it is fated that people will be healed during this time. But, keep in mind, Chiron healing is hard work. If you look at the mythology behind the name, Chiron was a centaur with an unhealable wound who went on, through his journey, to become a great healer of his own accord. Chiron carries with it the lesson that healing does not happen in a vacuum; when one heals, all are healed. This transit carries with it the possibility of deep societal healing around the wounds of the sign Aries.

Many would argue that modern Western culture is too individualistic and that we need to return to a society that values community and togetherness. Still, others would argue that we over-focus on the pair-bonded relationship, again, to the detriment of community. Chiron in Aries conjunct the North Node says: yes, and…

This cognitive dissonance will be a central focus of this Mercury retrograde cycle as Mercury passes over the conjunction between Chiron and the North Node three times: first in forward motion during its pre-retrograde phase, secondly in backward motion during its retrograde, and a third time in forward motion during its post-retrograde phase. This is something with which we will all need to grapple with during this time.

It’s okay if you don’t get it right the first time.

A common metaphor for imagining retrograde cycles is as a lesson or “hole” in the ground with which we must fall in/pass over/encounter trice to gain the full experience of the situation.

The story unfolds something like this:

Oh, there’s a hole in the ground! I fell into it because I didn’t know that it was there. It’s not my fault. (pre-retrograde shadow phase)

Oh, there’s a hole in the ground. I fell into it again. I did know it was there…maybe I should learn to avoid this hole? (retrograde phase)

And, if all goes well: Oh hey, that’s a hole in the ground! It’s the same hole I fell into before. I know how to walk around this now. (post-retrograde phase)

This lesson, whatever it might be for you and yours, will be highlighted especially in and around 4/19 when retrograde Mercury meets up in exact conjunction with Venus at 17° Aries. It’s worth noting here that Venus is in her detriment in Aries which means that the independent, cardinal sign of action is not a particularly comfortable position for our planet of comfort and togetherness. Libra, the sign in which our South Node currently resides, is the natural space for Venus – in Libra, she would like peaceful resolutions and for everybody to just get along (perhaps even a bit pathologically). In Aries, Venus is the starlet who becomes so obsessed with her fame/flame that she doesn’t notice those that are burning in her wake.

A reminder: think before you burn the whole place to the ground. (I’m not saying that it’s not warranted during this time…I’m just saying that you should think it through first)

There is a lesson here and it’s one of independence and interdependence, but we need to leave codependence in the rearview mirror. Toxic togetherness may be highlighted through all of March and April. With one of our two relationship signs involved in this, I wouldn’t count out relationship issues or even breakups during this time. This energy will greatly augment any magic done to remove abusers or other toxic partners from your life once and for all.

We don’t get to choose if we live in “Interesting Times” but we do get to choose HOW we live in them. This retrograde is going to put a lot of stress on unbalanced relationships in particular – especially ones in which one partner would like more space and the other one is seeking control and containment. Where do you need to give up control to let your Others be more free and more themselves? Where do you need to show up better for yourself and ask for more space?

There is some old adage about traveling while Mercury is in retrograde that I find very applicable here: traveling during this time can be very pleasurable so long as you can let go and accept where the road takes you.

Expect delays and detours during this time. If you’re all fussed about getting to your destination, you may miss the scenic views and pure joy of the experience of moving more slowly. Mercury’s retrogrades are a time to do less more thoroughly. It is a time of cosmic refinement (Mercury is the ruler of our architect sign of Virgo).

It can also be a time of unfortunate miscommunications (especially involving technology). Packing patience and a heavy dose of empathy can help a lot here. This is the divine right time to check your work twice before you hit “send” and to sit on it for a few days before you pick that fight. This goes double for 4/8 when we will experience a total solar eclipse at 19° Aries (very close to the degree that Mercury and Venus will later meet up).

Healthy human behaviors will always help here: take a break when you need to, keep an eye on your state of emotional regulation, and remember to maintain solid boundaries. With eclipse season and the lunar nodes so involved, this will carry heavy wild card energy along with it so approach it with an open heart and eyes wide open, and you should be fine.

The Details

3/18 – Mercury enters its post-retrograde shadow 15° Aries 3/19 – Sun enters Aries, Mercury conjunct North Node 16° Aries 3/20 – Mercury conjunct Chiron 16° Aries 4/1 – Mercury retrogrades 27° Aries 4/8 – Solar eclipse 19° Aries 4/11 – Sun conjunct retrograde Mercury 22° Aries 4/15 – retrograde Mercury conjunct Chiron 19° Aries 4/19 – Sun enters Taurus, retrograde Mercury conjunct Venus 17° Aries 4/21 – Venus conjunct Chiron 20° Aries 4/25 – Mercury stations direct 15° Aries 5/6 – Mercury conjunct Chiron 21° Aries 5/13 – Mercury exits its post-retrograde shadow 27° Aries 5/15 – Mercury enters Taurus

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[weemsfreak]

Fangs

Larissa Weems x fVampireReader

Larissa Weems gets into trouble at a conference. Her girlfriend comes to her rescue. Larissa knows her girlfriend pretty well, but she's not a vampire, is she?

Warnings: Mention of sexual assault (not detailed), restraint, blood

Sometimes, you can get ahead of yourself. Sometimes, you don't communicate as well as you should. You let your emotions get the best of you, and you don't let others change your mind, even though you may be in the wrong. Someone else who was exactly like this, was your girlfriend, Larissa Weems. Of course, you could put up with her, you would put up with her, for you loved her like you loved no other. She was graceful, ethereal, proper, kind, comforting, stunning, and charming, all while you were…well, you. Some say opposites attract, and while you and her were opposites in ways, you were the same in others.

Larissa was away for the weekend at a school conference. This conference was Saturday to Monday, but she said that she would be back Monday morning to attend to some business at Nevermore. You weren't a teacher at Nevermore Academy. Yes, you lived in Larissa’s quarters with her at the school (whether you were allowed to was another thing), but you worked in Jericho at your own antique store. You would travel and pick out antiques and thrift old fashioned clothing, and bring them back to your store. People in Jericho loved it, and so did you. You were also an outcast, one way in which you were similar to Larissa. Alas, she didn't know you attended Nevermore as a student due to you being a bit younger than her. In fact, she didn't know that you were an outcast at all. It's not that you were ashamed of being a vampire, it was actually really cool. It's just that, well, when you met her, she had assumed that you were a normie. She had come into the shop looking for an antique broach. When you found out that she was the headmistress of Nevermore, you didn't want to steal her thunder. You didn't want her to question you about being an outcast, or ask about where you'd come from. Growing up, your mother was always two steps ahead of you. Everyone that you knew back home also knew your mother, and anything, ANYTHING that you did related back to her. She would say "Don’t embarrass me" or "Be mature, you're representing me as a person." She knew about everything, and when people wanted to talk to you or about you, they would go to her instead. This made you feel like an extension of your mother, instead of being your own person. When you moved to Jericho, you left her behind in your hometown, but somehow, you carried that feeling with you. You had a really hard time believing that you were your own person, and that you could tell people things about you without them going back to your mother. So as it happened, Larissa didn’t know that you were a vampire, but for no apparent reason. You wore sunglasses but not all the time, so she didn’t question it. You drank your blood in places that she couldn't see, and you ate normal meals with her. You hid your fangs, you didn’t shift around her, you hid your strength, you were pretty good at hiding it all. You longed for, yet were scared for the day that you told your girlfriend about your ability. You hoped that she wouldn't be mad at you for keeping it a secret.

On Monday morning, you awoke to no Larissa. You didn’t think it was weird at first, perhaps she was working, or maybe she just wasn't home yet. But, as the day went on, you became increasingly worried about her. She could have decided to stay for the last day of the conference, or perhaps she was mad at you about the small fight you had before she left. It was stupid, really stupid, but you both were bad at backing down. You had been texting and calling her all day, just to make sure that she was coming home to you tonight. You stepped out onto the balcony from your bedroom, letting the frigid air hit you. It was past lunch now, and something in your stomach turned. Something inside made you anxious, nervous, impatient. You called her again, no answer. You had this sense sometimes, like a witch. When you felt like something bad might happen, it did. This feeling never failed. It could be anything really, but you knew what it probably was.

Twenty minutes later, you were in your car, driving to where her conference was held. You were probably just overthinking it, you did that a lot. You were probably wasting your time driving two hours to her, when she would be just fine. She'd tell you "You worry too much, darling" or she'd say "I can take care of myself." You knew she could, she has proved that time and time again. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't okay, that she hadn't taken care of herself. You left her voicemail after voicemail, driving as fast at you could to the hotel she was staying at.

"Hi, my friend is staying here for a conference. I know you aren’t supposed to give room numbers out, but she isn't answering me and I'm worried." "What's her name?" "Larissa Weems." The front desk woman hummed, "Yes, she was supposed to check out this morning." You furrowed your brows, you knew that, it was weird. "222" the woman whispered to you. "Thank you" you smiled before making your way to the second level. You found her room and knocked on the door, praying that she would answer. You knocked again when no answer came. Perhaps she was at the conference? You thought she would at least text you and let you know she was staying, if that was the case. As you started down the hall towards the lobby to check in the conference rooms, you heard loud voices coming from room 228. They were laughing and being so loud that it was obnoxious. "What a freak" you heard some guy grit, muffled through the door. You stopped, were they drunk at lunch time on a Monday? "A shapeshifter, of all things" another guy laughed. The conference was meant for faculty of outcast schools, so it made sense that other outcasts, other shapeshifters, would be here. You walked up to the door, placing your ear against it. "What should we do with her?" you heard a voice question. Her? A shapeshifter? You knew being a shapeshifter was rare, but there could be multiple around. A cleaner then caught your attention as they walked by and stopped at the room adjacent to you. You took this as your opportunity to asses the situation.

You knocked on the door, "Room service" you hollered. As the men went quiet, you knocked again. You heard a muffled, "We didn't order room service, did we?" and footsteps moving toward the door. As a man opened it, he was met with the cleaning person in the hallway, and no room service. "What the hell" he stated, slamming the door shut. You, being a vampire and all, had shifted into your animal form, a small bat, and flown into the corner of the room when the door opened. You perched on the ceiling, looking around the room. There was a man on the bed, laid out and tied to the headboard by his arms. He looked familiar to you, but why? As you stared at him, you quickly realized why you knew him. It wasn’t often that you saw him, but often enough. Long green coat with a high collar, hair so blonde it could be white, tall with nice leather shoes. Your heart lurched in your chest when you concluded that the man was in fact, Larissa. This man was Larissa's default opposite gender form, one she easily switched into for whatever reason. You figured she probably shifted to gain strength, to hopefully break free from her restraints. Alas, with no luck. As you assessed the three men, you deduced that one of them was a siren, one was a telepath, and one was a werewolf. Really no match for you, you thought, except the siren might get in the way. "What school is this bitch from again?" the telepath asked. "Nevermore" the siren answered. "And she's here alone?" the werewolf questioned. The siren let out a devious chuckle, "Yep." You didn't understand what was going on. How had they grabbed Larissa at a conference? Was there really nobody else around? They were outcasts as well, how could they discriminate against her because of her ability? Woman had no peace in this world, no fucking peace. They were given no breaks from the arrogance of men. As you watched and waited nervously, you saw Larissa slowly shift back to her original form. She could only shift for so long, holding it made her tired and she’d lose her strength to keep her form. Or, she’d become unconscious and morph back into herself. As her head dropped back onto the pillow, you knew it was the ladder, you knew that she had passed out. "I have to say, it's impressive how long she can shift for, and how easily she does it" the werewolf chirped. "Oh shut it" the siren growled. He moved closer to her, sitting on the bed beside her. He brought his hand up to her face, "Such a beauty, too bad she's so pretentious and annoying." Your jaw dropped at his grimy hands in her skin. Larissa wasn't pretentious or annoying, she was confident and professional, and she was damn good at her job. "And way too tall" the telepath added. The siren moved onto the bed, straddling Larissa's lower legs. "Let's see what's under this dress" he smirked as he brought his hands to the bottom of it. You assessed his proximity, he was close enough to you that you could tackle him from where you were, and you did just so.

As you let go of the ceiling, you shifted back into your human form and bounced off of the bed, taking him to the floor with you. "What the fuck!" he screamed once you were on top of him, he didn't know what hit him. You didn’t have a plan really, you didn’t have time to come up with one. It didn’t matter though, as once you were on top of him your anger took over, and you sunk your fangs into his neck. As he screamed, you pinned his hands to the floor, draining him of his blood. You haven’t touched a humans blood in so long, it wasn't preferred by you or your morals really. You sucked until you saw him turn pale, then you sat up and wiped your lips. He wasn't dead, you just took enough blood to render him unconscious. You stood up and faced the other men, pulling your knife from your waist. "Any of you motherfuckers want to try something, or would you prefer not to end up on the floor like him" you growled, blood dripping down your chin and neck. Their eyes went wide as they turned and scurried out of the room, slamming the door behind them. You turned to Larissa on the bed and cut the restraints from her wrists. Putting your knife away, you sat beside her and stroked her pale face. You wondered what had happened, and why they did this to her. Besides the rope indents on her wrists, she looked fine, they mustn't have touched her before you arrived. You took her gorgeous face in your hands and kissed her forehead before picking her up off of the bed. "Let's go home my love" you whispered as you carried her out of the room.

Sitting in the car, you remembered that Larissa's things were in her room. Oh well, you'd send for them. You wondered how you had gotten out of the hotel without people questioning why you were carrying an unconscious woman. Perhaps nobody here paid any attention at all. Driving back to Nevermore with Larissa lying in the back seat, you opted not to wake her until she awoke on her own. You hoped that she wouldn't remember what happened when she woke up. If she did, how would you explain to her what the men were trying to do? How would you tell her that you found her two hours away? How would you say that you tackled a man and took his blood and carried her home? You shook your head, tears threatening to spill at the thought of what those men wanted to do to her, what they did do to her.

As you laid in bed that evening, you stared at Larissa. She still wasn't awake, and you were becoming more and more worried at her state. You took in her features, her soft skin and full lips, her long white hair that spilled onto the bed sheets, her tall form that partially made her who she was. Perhaps men would never appreciate a women's beauty, perhaps they would never appreciate your woman's beauty. But no matter, because you did. You appreciated her in all her glory, in all her sauciness, in all her power, in all her helplessness, and in all her forms. You watched wide eyed as she began to stir. She groaned before she opened her eyes, and as yours met those pools of ocean blue, you got the sudden urge to propose to her. You wanted her to be yours, you wanted to protect her, you wanted to make sure that no mans greasy hands ever touched her again. She was yours and nobody else's, she was your baby. Alas, that was probably too much right now, you had only been dating for six months after all. "Y/N?" she mumbled, confused as to why she was at home. You sprang up as you realized that she might be in pain. "Riss baby, are you hurt? How do you feel?" She looked toward the ceiling as she blinked rapidly. "My head hurts." You jumped up to get some medication and water, and you helped her take it. She sat up, eyes wandering around the room. "Why aren't I at the hotel?" she questioned, looking up at you with concern. You cupped her face, "Do you remember anything from the hotel?" Her brows furrowed as she tried to think. "I remember walking out of my room and greeting a man, and then everything went black." Your eyes widened, her brain probably hid the trauma of her being tied to the bed and her shifting in an attempt to break free. You let out a huge sigh, shaking your head. "Riss, the conference is over baby, get some rest." As she rolled onto her side, you climbed back in the bed with her and stroked her hair, hoping to lull her to sleep. You whispered in her ear, "When you wake up I'll make your favorite meal, okay?" and you saw her flash a smile before she fell to slumber. 

[birchbow]

I’ve been thinking about drones and just the whole logistics of it all. They’ve got to pick up two contributions from every troll? One after another? So presumably the pails get filled ahead of time. Would a troll have enough time to help out more than one pitch/flush partner if there’s an odd number of trolls total? Or is someone just SOL if they’re on a ship with an odd number of trolls? Oh hell, on the dark carnival there’s sometimes prisoners - and jeez, what about them?? Ah this got kind of dark and now I’m second guessing sending it, but I’m curious about your thoughts, feel free to ignore if you like!

These ARE the questions lol. I've been hammering away and I'm putting together a theory I will call the Tax Fraud Drone Theory and I am figuring pieces of it out as I type this at two AM, lol. CW of course for drone-season/fuck-or-die related discussion because: terrible bug aliens from hellmurder planet.

tl;dr, drones are a basic system that expects to hit up trolls in tribal/village numbers and slowly, methodically iterate their way through. Their system isn't evolved for modern trollish community structures, and often won't have the storage capacity to hit every single troll or couple (especially in a whole city) before they head back to the Mother Grub--so you can gamble and get by with one quadrant. OR even dodge them completely, but the contagious effect of their pheromonal presence will make you real sorry if you do! Further extensive rambling under the cut.

SO: a concept.

The basic function of drones is to follow the pheromonal/scent trail of trolls to a population center and go down the line demanding donations. (Theoretically, hitting different areas of the planet in waves, always coming and going, so the whole population isn't incapacitated at once.)

in situations that would have been natural when trolls were first established as a species, drones would largely find you living in groups ranging from a small travelling clade to a manageably village-sized collection of hives, SO:

In those circumstances, the drones could simply progress logically from iteration to iteration, prioritizing people who haven't contributed and then starting over with the people who have had the longest break since their first contribution, until pitch and flush contributions have been collected from everybody and/or the people who can't keep up have been culled.

(Presumably people who were near the start of the chain and already checked both boxes sometimes find it in their heart/spades to flip pitch or flush with an unlucky straggler, although that's risky if you don't genuinely think you can summon up a compatible enough match to satisfy the drones)

This is part of the reason drone pheromones send trolls into such an altered state, because odds are good you'll have to be in the mood for a hot second while the drones work their way around your community, and also will have to fuck several times.

Plus, I could imagine it's not unheard-of on-planet for one drone to finish up and then another one to show up a day later, attracted by the increased number of trolls and their much "louder" pheromonal signature! If we assume the drones are a semi-sentient purpose-driven messenger evolved to serve the Mother Grub (which I do haha) it's not like they would have a database.

(Drone pheromones would also function as a sort of indirect, auxillary means of reinforcing their purpose--not having quadrants to bone down with when drones are around is harshly physically/ mentally taxing and even if you managed to evade them and/or lock yourself up alone, most trolls will be fucked up enough they'll end up culled shortly afterward anyway.)

While trolls can't produce drone pheromones themselves, they're triggered by it to involuntarily produce a similar substance, which is notably incredibly "contagious" to other trolls around them, so even one drone in an area can have far-reaching ripple effects of Horny Time

BUT: Even prior to the Rebellion of Beasts, in semi-modern Alternia, trolls often lived in much larger cities than the drones' basic biology and capabilities could iterate combinations for, and so they would just continue to fill buckets from the next "fresh" troll they caught a whiff of, preferentially alternating pitch and flush, until all the drones dispatched to the area had reached capacity.

THUS: while it's still crucial to have strong quadrants filled if you want to be relatively safe, not every troll will be necessarily be demanded to consummate both, but WATCH OUT

Basically in the same way that you COULD falsify your taxes, but you could get audited at any time and then you're fucked, you CAN go into drone season with just one quadrant (or even no quadrants at all if you're feeling incredibly lucky and live in a super crowded area). BUT if the drones happen to get to the end of a chain of quadrants and end up next door, and you're the nearest relatively "fresh" troll they sniff out, you're dead meat.

It's also possible to physically lock yourself away from the drones but it requires heavy fortifications--it's also wildly illegal and grounds for immediate culling, and fiercely policed by the community, since every troll that tries that shit makes it that much harder and more deadly for everybody else.

If you get caught by your neighbors building some kind of panic room or something you are IMMEDIATELY under intense scrutiny and you BETTER be seen out and about every single drone season. Or a neighbor is likely to take things into their own hands and take you out of the gene pool themself.

While usually the exponentially-increasing privilege of the hemospectrum makes higher bloods exempt from shit like that, the exponentially decreasing physical numbers of colder bloods means that a different kind of social pressure is leaning on highbloods, a more noblesse oblige expectation that you'll do your part to keep the ruling classes populated with fresh blood from powerful couplings.

That said, a rare few especially powerful or crucial members of the empire can be ruled exempt by the empress, which basically just means she says explicitly that you get to build a bunker and lock your door when the drones come around--along with one or two other trolls For Your Health.

The Grand Highblood, a handful of seadwellers from her court that don't tideally suck, and any especially competent imperial generals of the various divisions of her army tend to fall under exemption, although she'll revoke it off-handed if you fuck up, so there's a lot of impetus to stay on top of your game.

In modern Post-Rebellion Alternia, trolls out on the farthest warfronts have increasing amounts of time between drone seasons, because the drones have to fly out from Alternia, track down ships and then fly all the way back. This is one of the many ways the empire encourages people to get way the fuck out onto the frontlines.

But they could still show up at any time, including to ships actively on the war front, so like. you better watch out you better watch out YOU BETTER WATCH OUT YOU BETTER--

In cases like the Church Fleet as I've written it, where there are prisoners present on-ship, it's just kind of expected that their lives are going to hornily suck absolute shit for several days while the drones are on-board, but the fortifications to keep prisoners secure also do keep the drones out.

In pursuit of not having prisoners die prematurely of dehydration and exhaustion, which is a very real risk if you're just locked up by yourself alone during drone season, I'd guess a lot of ships with prisoners just kind of throw them in groups into cells with extra food/water supplies and come back to pick up the pieces after the drones are gone again.

In some ways, a better way to spend the drone season than most free trolls, because you're locked up and don't have to worry about the drones! But also: kind of a nightmare hahaaa @_@ And also you're still a troll prisoner so like. You're going to die eventually anyway.

It's not good! But like, what about the Alternian empire is tbh. Hell society of the murder-bugs.

Bonus concept I'm chewing on: pheromone trails are a workable sollution on-planet, but basically impossible to follow all the way out into space--the reason the drones can find you no matter how far away you run to set up a colony is that the Mother Grub and her drones actually folded the Glb'golyb into a symbiotic relationship early in Alternian history/troll evolution. Her psychic connection to every troll in the empire means that they can get general positioning data from her and then hone in by smell when they arrive within direct sensory range. The Mother Grub gets to fulfill her purpose, and Glb'golyb basically farms trolls and lusii for food, taking her tithe of flesh from the Mother Grub's worker bees trolls (the general population).

[youandtom2]

We Need to Talk About Peter (dark!Peter Parker)

Summary: There's something not right about Peter. Why is no one talking about it? Themes: angst, horror w/c: 4.2k a/n: I wanted to write something a little darker based loosely on the book We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. I didn't want to romanticise anything, this is simply just a story and NOT a 'peter parker x reader' even if it might be tagged as such. Please take the time to read the warnings as this is about a topic that is triggering. Also, this is a reminder to keep yourselves safe out there, especially in places where gun control isn't as enforced as it should be.

T/W: SCHOOL SHOOTING, BULLYING, VIOLENCE, SUICIDE, DARK CONTENT AHEAD! VERY RAW! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

MASTERLIST

Every school has one: that detached, isolated person who sits at the back of the class, having no intention of uttering a word to anyone that approaches them. The deviant nobody pays attention to because, after many fruitless attempts, it is simply too difficult to connect with them through any means of communication. To everyone's knowledge, they're just a name and a body and nothing further. A walking, empty soul that floats around the school. A blank canvas who has yet to leave an imprint on society but with no personality, no emotion and no social background, it seems highly unlikely they ever will.

Every school has one regardless. But none of those other schools ever had someone quite like Peter.

Now Peter contained all of the typical symptoms. Quiet, restricted, invisible. Oftentimes you would pass him in the corridor with the hint of a bruising or a red blemish developing on his face just minutes after being harassed by someone who didn't quite understand him. Not necessarily saying that you did, but you knew more than anyone else that there was something psychologically obscure about him; something that wasn't to be reconciled with. Everyone else disregarded him and blamed it on a defect of character, but what struck you about him was the way he would never stray from that stone cold expression, you never saw any other emotion donning his face. No fear, no pain, nothing. But that was just typical Peter.

You couldn't ignore how much it bothered you that everyone was completely blind to his very distinct anti-social behaviour. The teachers paid him no mind because he did the work, he was a grade A student, and his family background checks were completely healthy. So as long as he was able to conform to the school rules and there was no trouble at home, then it was assumed that having no personality was his personality.

Indeed, he was unique. But not in the way that everyone thought because he embodied something that no one else had. Something that exhorted him to exceed his reputation and do the unthinkable.

He had a motive.

~~~~

Your day at school is like any other. Your English literature work basks in the sun, shining its rays onto your desk as if it was mocking you, reminding you that once again you are stuck in school with work at your fingertips. English isn't your favourite but it's tolerable. The class isn't half bad, the teacher knows what he's doing and maybe about a third of the course sparks your interest. The other two thirds you fall asleep to.

The other dilemma is your partner, Peter. Having the misfortune of sitting next to him, it is inevitable that when teamwork projects come along you will always be paired with him. You have to give it to him though, he never fails you when it comes to putting in the effort. He's smart, clever and a little too cunning for your liking. This particular feature about him you try to suppress when it gets the better of you, knowing all too well that he gets enough shit from everyone else. The least you could do is persevere and expand your patience.

It's team project day and as instructed by your teacher you turn towards your partner. Your skin turns cold when you notice a purple haze grazing his cheek amongst the red undertones of his skin, where the traces of tears are obvious to the eye. Like you say, he gets enough shit from everyone else. The last thing he needs is for you to be the same. With a hesitant smile on your lips and a spark of optimism growing, you present your findings to Peter.

"Okay, so I spent 3 hours last night doing analysis and evaluation on chapter 3. I also started making the template for our presentation which I can do if you're totally not up for it. It's cool. And I know you're supposed to be doing quotes but..."

You can't help but drag your eyes over his bruising face, thinking how could anyone have the insolence to hurt someone as innocent as Peter? As your commiserate eyes skim over the last detail of his beatings he turns, catching you staring at his face.

"I-I could them if you don't want to?" Of course he doesn't reply, which is what you expect. However you're too quick to judge as he rips out a piece of paper from his notebook and begins scribbling.

'No, it's okay I'll do them.'

You read the words in your own voice simply because you don't know what his sounds like. Nevertheless, it's still something. He usually doesn't tend to write anything to anyone.

"Are you sure?"

Miraculously, he nods. After finalising his decision, you both put your heads down and focus on your work in silence, just how you both like it.

~~~~

That was all you got from him that day. That week, even. As the month progressed you noticed that Peter, however impossible it seemed, was becoming evermore unresponsive. Every period of English that you endured felt like a battle just trying to get him to even look at you. He wouldn't move other than to blink and to breathe.

He had done all of his work for the team project in four days. Something that was supposed to last 2 weeks had been completed in four days. You, on the other hand, were completely flooded with work, desperately trying to catch up with his work ethic, but even then, you were still working on finishing touches up until the day before the presentation was due.

You can understand why he did it so quickly: spending the free time he granted himself in complete ignorance because he didn't have any work to do, and left you helplessly trying to complete your half of the project in a scramble. You knew you had delegated the work equally, but showing a little decency to help you out wouldn't have harmed anyone. However, you decided not to pester him about it.

And it's a good thing you didn't. Otherwise you might've ended up like the others.

~~~~

On the day before presentation day you decide to stay in school late, running through your presentation and perfecting every detail of it. You want it to be flawless. Especially since you won't be having any assistance presenting it no thanks to a certain stubborn mute.

Under Spring's pink sky you walk home constantly being tormented by the craving of a good night's sleep. With the team project no longer occupying your mind, you take your time enjoying the view around you. That is until you turn the corner. Your view is now being hindered by a certain, lonesome, stubborn mute walking ahead of you. His back is turned and you notice a heavy rucksack clinging to his back as he drags it along the pavement. What could he possibly be carrying that's so heavy? Intrigued, you track every footstep remembering to keep your distance.

Something else comes into view in the distance. Three, no, four boys you recognise strut round the corner, obnoxiously laughing as they advance on Peter with nothing but mischief in their predatory eyes. Those boys are the recipe for trouble and you fear that the nice weather isn't the reason for their little stroll through the neighbourhood. Specifically one that Peter inhabits. Your heartbeat picks up as Peter fails to avoid them, refusing to break his stride until he and the boys come face to face. His feet are rooted to the ground and his statue-like stance doesn't convey any form of fear. He should really run if he knows what's best for him.

Their voices are muted. Words are mumbled. You can't hear a damn thing but yet you still remain hidden behind a parked car watching very intently as the scene unfolds before you. In amongst the irritated voices, you know for a fact that none of them are Peter's. 

"ANSWER ME!" The boy's quick to slap Peter's face. The piercing sound so disturbing it leaves you wincing, cowering even further into your cover knowing that it was only the beginning and the worst is yet to come.

Still, Peter's reactions cease to exist. There is simply nothing that will make him bat an eyelid, even if it means slapping him in the face to test the theory. Empty-handed, the boys grow impatient, desperately waiting for something exciting to happen. They think that if they aggravate Peter further, he'll break and retaliate, giving them what they want and have never seen before: a reaction.

They never learn their lesson. They won't get one, no matter what they do.

"Fuck this," the other one says, and gives Peter a mighty blow to the face, one that's capable of breaking his jaw, and sweeps him clean off his feet. After the initiation, it's like a monkey-see-monkey-do situation. One kicks, the others kick. One punches, the others follow. The whole thing makes you sick to the stomach. Peter's body is constantly being beaten around, twitching and jerking lifelessly with the sounds of bones cracking, and laughter ringing through the air.

"STOP!" you hear your own voice yelling, suddenly realising now that your legs are carrying you towards them. "STOP IT! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

The boys look at you with confusion riddling their face, questioning why someone like you would defend someone like Peter. One of them even mutters your name through his heavy breathing, exhausted from beating Peter senselessly. You take your stance in front of Peter, defending him from the boys.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Huh? He didn't do a fucking thing to you, and you think it's okay to beat him up?"

"Back off, this is none of your business," one of them has the audacity to say.

"You fuck with Peter, you make it my business. Now you fuckwits better leave because that old woman over there witnessed the whole thing from her living room and is probably on the phone to the police right now. So unless you want to spend the night in custody I'd suggest that you back off."

They leave accordingly knowing how much being involved with the police would jeopardise their precious football careers, but not without getting a last word in.

"Left a little surprise for your aunt when she gets home, Parker. I'm sure you'll enjoy it too."

~~~~

That surprise was the last straw for Peter. You helped him hobble home to discover the words 'slut' spray painted across the side of his aunt’s car. Not only that, but as you looked up to the apartment building you couldn't miss the numerous egg stains and little shards of shell scattered across the glass panes of his windows. You remember very distinctly the prominent lump in your throat when you saw what they had done to his home, thinking that nobody should ever have to go through something as debilitating as that.

You knew well enough Peter didn't show emotion, but after seeing the atrocities blatantly displayed across the Parker property, there should've been at least something, even just a hint of anger somewhere inside him. A clue or gesture of some sort that would prove that he's actually human would have sufficed.

There was absolutely nothing.

He walked the remaining distance into the building independently and slammed the door. Hearing that slam was like a wash of relief. It was the result of anger, frustration and fury. That alone was enough to convince you that there was something inside him that was capable of feeling emotion. 

But for him, though, it wasn't enough.

~~~~

You make your presence known at the front of your class, anxiously waiting to get this presentation over and done with. Your eyes peer over to Peter's empty desk thinking how he should be here. As mysterious as he is, you can't understand why he isn't here, he's never skipped class and would never think to tarnish his 100% attendance record. You know giving presentations isn't his thing, but he could've at least shown you some moral support.

Pfft, yeah right.

You shrug the thought away before it bothers you even more and without delay, you begin your presentation.

"Lionel Shriver is the author of the 2003 novel We Need to Talk About Kevin which-"

Your words are cut off by four, angry shots echoing down the hallway, followed by a heart-stopping scream. Your eyes whip to the open door and in that moment you feel like your mind is absent, stunned in the disbelief of what you just heard. You try to move but you find that your muscles have stiffened, paralysed with fear and complete panic.

More shots follow, even louder than before. Your teacher yells at you to take cover which you do eventually after an unnecessarily delayed reaction, but your ears are ringing and everything you see has morphed into a blur.

The shooter is three...two...one footstep away from the classroom. Your sensitive ears pick up the murmurations of sobs, whimpers and sheer panic effusing from your classmates. But there's nothing more deafening than the heavy tread of the shooter's steps pacing slowly into the classroom. 

Silence. It's just absolute, unadulterated silence. The longer it continues, the more the anticipation strangles you.

"Hmmm, where is she?" His smooth, puckish tones are unrecognisable but just as equally terrifying. You can't seem to get a good look at his face; the front panel of the teacher's desk obstructs your view. "She must be in here somewhere..." She? Who's she? You make eye contact with your teacher who presses his index finger to his lips as he too hides under the desk. Whilst the shooter wanders around the room at an unbearable pace, you distract yourself by counting to ten, praying that it'll calm your uneased mind. It's completely illogical but right now anything will help.

One.

It's almost impossible to pinpoint exactly where he is based on your judgement of sound. He could be anywhere, ready to pounce.

Two.

You close your eyes, inhaling and exhaling.

Three.

He fires two warning shots into the ground and even seconds after you can still feel the harsh repercussions of the bullets hitting the ground. Screams and cries of mercy fill the room. Bits and pieces of the floor ricochet.

Four.

You have to force yourself to clamp your hand over your mouth before you end up exposing yourself to him.

Five.

"Oh look, our presentation's on the board!" There's something chilling about his words; his taunting yet playful voice emphasises the word 'our', giving you a perfectly obvious clue as to who the perpetrator is.

You know it, but the thought can't process through your dazed mind any slower. Our. He said 'our'. You and...Peter. That answers the question why you were unable to recognise his voice. He's the shooter. And he's looking for you.

Six.

An abrupt shriek emits from a girl's mouth, one you recognise as your friend Ellis.

"Is she under that desk over there?" His cool tones are still heard despite Ellis's cries and desperate pleas. You don't hear her answer, but your guess is that he didn't need one. Adrenaline settles in and your eyes grow wide in the unprecedented fear of what is about to happen. His footsteps, unlike before, are quick and thunderous as they stalk closer and closer.

Sev-

"Found you!"

Despite his deceptive body frame, his brute force drags you out from hiding in seconds. The first thing that comes into your mind is his gun. That small but powerful TEC-9 gun is secure in Peter's clutches. Instinctively, your awareness of the threat that you face takes priority in your mind and you watch it with cautious eyes. You’ve never seen a gun up close before, and now that Peter waves it around aimlessly in front of you, you realise the very real danger it poses. All it takes is one single bullet. The very thought makes you shudder.

Like an ornament, Peter presents you to the class, body stiff and unresponsive. He stands to your left, his hand crawling up your spine while the other points the gun to the ground. You just hate the way your name rolls off his tongue, unfamiliar in his voice. What does he want with you?

"I won't harm you. I just want you to point out the bastards who attacked me."

~~~~

In that situation, you had no idea what to do. It was their life, or yours. You spent what felt like hours convincing Peter that they weren’t there as their pleading eyes begged to keep them safe, but Peter had figured it out for himself after a total rampage of the classroom. There were only two of the four of those boys in your class at that moment. Perhaps if they hadn't been in your English class they would still be alive.

But unfortunately that wasn't the case.

From that class alone, 3 died and 5 were fatally injured. Peter thankfully spared the lives of the others to continue the search of the two remaining boys from that night. Of course, he took you with him as a hostage for leverage and protection. Every part of Peter was raw. For the first time you were able to see his true self, seeing beneath the silent facade he had hidden behind for so long. You wish you hadn't.

The whole thing seemed like a nightmare you wanted to wake up from. The memories are drilled into you now: the blood splattered across the walls, lifeless bodies lying there for everyone to see the damage that had been caused. That will never leave you.

~~~~

"Peter," you whimper, clinging on to the newly discovered shrapnel wounds on your arm. He turns but he doesn't stop walking. "Why are you doing this?"

That stops him. He eases the pressure from around your arm just slightly. His presence becomes threatening, the distance between you narrows and you're now staring into the face of a cold-blooded killer. Words pass his lips in a cool manner that is strikingly discomforting, especially coming from someone who has just massacred a school. There's only one thing audible in these narrow corridors; your throbbing pulse, drowning out any exterior noise.

"I won't harm you," he repeats, however you still fear that you can't take his word for it. His hand snakes up towards your face and catches your jawline in between his fingers and his thumb, forcing you to look at him. He's always tried to avoid all eye contact, but now that he's surrendered himself to his emotions it's the only thing he's after. "I have been putting up with their shit for long enough. I have been in this silence for long enough. I have waited long enough. If it's a reaction everyone is wanting, then here it is," he spits through gritted teeth. Peter overshadows you with his authority, his presence looming over your fear and manipulating it. You have no other choice but to submit yourself to be a vital part in his vengeance.

You both travel further deeper into the heart of the school. The number of people that still remain inside is unknown but presuming that most people haven’t made their escape, Peter leads you to the classroom where the other two boys should be. Before Peter breaches and parades in, he turns and gives you one last slice of insight.

"You know why I finished the work so quickly?" he asks but you don't respond. "So I could spend my time planning this. It was going to happen on graduation, but after what they did to me I couldn't wait any longer." His malicious chuckle makes you quiver.

"Peter, y-you're only j-just going to spend the r-rest of your days in p-prison."

"Then so be it."

~~~~

A further 6 people died and another 20 were injured. True to his word, Peter got the revenge he was craving. Everyone who hurt him, everyone who pestered him and treated him like he was nothing paid the consequences that Peter had set out for them. In amongst the tragic deaths and the numerous injuries, you were spared. As thankful as you may be, you are just as equally guilty. You should've been on that list of deaths, you should've been suffering like the others did. After all, you were his only hostage. But you survived with as little as a couple of shrapnel injuries to recover from.

Once Peter had achieved his objective, he was just having fun. He didn't need you anymore but yet he still dragged you everywhere like a dog on a leash. If the leash was a gun. Peter made you watch him continue his killing spree and you remember counting up the number of lives he had taken. Ten, eleven, twelve...

With each life he took, you grew a certain abhorrence towards yourself because you didn't prevent it. The signs were there, clear as day. Quiet, restricted, invisible. The victim of harassment and bullying. Smart. Cunning. Psychologically obscure. Carrying heavy loads. These weren't the symptoms of a typical Peter. These were the symptoms of a typical terrorist. He was given the perfect ammunition, all he had to do with flick the switch and like that he became a murderer.

~~~~

"Please, Peter, stop this-"

"No."

"I want to leave-"

"No."

"Why?! Why me?! Why am I different from everyone else?"

"Because you cared!" His loud voice resonates around the perimeter of the deserted canteen. You cautiously follow his movements as he perches himself upon the lunch tables, swinging his gun around as if it was nothing more than a mere toy. He stands proudly upon his podium once again unleashing his very dangerous emotions that have no sense of direction. Standing very defensively in the corner of the canteen with beads of sweat trickling down your spine, you can feel Peter's eyes burn holes through your body like it's your 6th sense. You're muttering something about wanting to leave, but tears don't help with articulation.

"Think of it this way then," he jumps off the table, striding towards you with a dubious expression donning his face. You don't feel yourself breathing, but you know there's oxygen flooding your lungs. Your gut clenches, fingernails dig deep into your palms when he firmly presses the muzzle of the gun against the side of your head. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just shoot you right now."

He's right. You did care. Much more than anyone else did. That's what kept you alive.

~~~~

When Peter pressed that gun against your head, you had never felt closer to death. Oxygen didn't pass through your lungs and even though it was only for a couple of seconds, it felt like a lifetime. You were stuck in a state of fear and anticipation, and you're certain Peter was too. Even he couldn't predict his next actions.

His time as a murderer was short lived. The relief that had washed over you when the police had barged through the doors to your rescue was indescribable. You knew from then on that maybe, your life was still waiting to be lived. Peter, on the other hand, had destroyed his. Guaranteed.

You could never forget how Peter lit up like a Christmas tree with the amount of red dots that smothered him head to toe. The canteen was soon flooded with angry yells and authoritative demands to drop his weapon, but with his eyes fixated on yours he chose to ignore them.

Whatever strategy Peter adopted that made it easy for him to conceal his emotions before, it didn't help him then. Looking into his glassy eyes when he finally accepted his fate, all you could see was nothing but sheer despair and defeat outlined by the tears threatening to fall. He was human. He was alive with emotions. He just didn't know how to use them. Once they were out, they were outwith his control.

It looked like it was all over. Your future was secured and you were able to live another day now that the police force had him surrounded.

But you were wrong. It wasn't over yet.

Until they officially intervened, both of you were locked in that position nobody would ever dream of being in. Evident in Peter's hazel eyes, you recognised that knowing look of deviance. It took you less than a split second to realise that Peter still had something up his sleeve. A conversation was held but there were no words shared between you; the feeling was mutual. You both knew what was going to happen. He still had one more battle to fight, he still had one more life to take.

"I'm sorry."

He whispered his last words to you before he took the gun, held it up towards his head and pulled the trigger, adding another name onto the list of the deceased.

Peter Parker and 12 others died that day. And you, along the hundreds of others, were traumatised and scarred by his actions. So much so that you remember that day like it was yesterday, the memories still fresh in your mind even years after it happened. Other schools, teachers, friends, family couldn't imagine the pain and horror that will forever be a part of you, none of them could ever know what it was like.

Because none of them will ever know someone quite like Peter.

[sultrybaby]

Enhypen Jake boyfriend headcannons

💞Warnings: there are instances where the reader is advised to assume a certain character trait- even otherwise, it might not feel completely self insert (although I feel like that is pretty common in these headcannons so 🤷‍♂️), profanity💞 Word count: 300+ 💞Pairing: Jake x gn!Reader💞 Genre: Fluff,  (established relationship)

I always imagine jake having a sort of ritual with their S/O where he sends them pictures of random memes on the internet that he claims to look like you (the memes being like, psychotic, batshit crazy)

He seems to be someone who would put substantial effort into conversing with you when you're discussing an interest of yours that he is not familiar with. For example, if you were talking to him about a new movie that you watched that you are absolutely obsessed with, one that he hasn't watched  yet or isn't interested in,  rather than just being like "who's your favourite" (which of course, he will ask) he will also ask you what your favourite moment in the movie was- why that was your favourite moment; if fantasy, then he would ask of your opinion on the worldbuilding, "Were you okay with the pace of the plot, you know, as someone who only tends to watch long shows?" He takes lots of conscious effort into doing this, and is well aware- and proud- of it

I think he is one of those people who can tell whether you require advice or comfort, whether it is the right time for it, whether you would be okay with physical touch as comfort, whether a joke would be appropriate in the moment, etc just be observing the state that you're in- he just gets you.

He seems quite versatile in his social energy. Like I know he is an ISTJ, but he seems to be introverted in the sense that he requires time alone to recharge, rather than having a preference for being by himself (if that makes sense- like he had isolationist tendencies but nothing against social interactions). I feel like this makes him capable of complementing his partner. If you are extroverted, he would look out for how you are exerting yourself, whether you are going into people pleasing mode, whether you are socializing as a method of escapism and warn you to fix the problem properly. If you are introverted, he would find the right situations with the right people to help you learn how to not depend on anyone to get your point across, he would help you develop confidence without losing control, and help you maintain it.Hhe would tell you of plans three weeks in advance, and when discussing things you could do together, checks in his schedule way ahead to make sure you have time to mentally prepare for it. He will cuddle up and watch netflix with you after you cancel a plan last minute because it just felt exhausting.

I feel like if you are someone who is not good at communicating, then it will be frustrating for jake, and so the two of you will create a communication- comprehension system: you have to communicate certain things with jake, and jake offers to learn how to comprehend your behaviours. I think this will create some cute traditions like going to the same cafe after work on fridays and taking it slow, discussing work life until the cafe closes and then coming home at 8; Small sticky notes posted around by jake with his concerns, asking you to either tick an option or write something else in case you don't want to talk about it.

Taglists:

Permanent all works:

@thomas-the-tank-engene @goldenhypen

Permanent kpop:

@soobin-chois @one16core

Enhypen:

@yogurteume @annoyingbitch83

(taglists are open)

[lightlycareless]

First, it hurts— Chapter XL

Naoya Zen’in x Fem!Reader

While arranged marriages are not uncommon in the jujutsu community, it was strange to receive a proposal from none other than the Zen’in’s, nonetheless your clan accepted and before you knew it, you were married off to Naoya.

Your new purpose was clear: to serve and submit, to be seen and not heard. To forget any sense of individuality in favor of obeying your husband.

Will this marriage ever flourish into something else? Will it change…for better or for worse?

Chapter warnings: omg this is the spooky edition.

A/N: None heheheheh. but I am going on a break!! Thank you so much for all the support!! ❤️❤️❤️ See you around!!!

Now, without any further ado, happy reading! 🥰

Masterlist ➸ Chapter 41

Ao3 link.

You were yet to begin the day, but you could already feel as if there was an eerie calmness engulfing the estate. A silence so abundant, it almost felt like you could hear what was happening on the other side of the estate if you were attentive enough…

A sensation that also seemed to extend to the staff, given the lack of footsteps heard outside your room, rushing from one side of the living quarters to the other while tending the masters. It is as if they’ve already tended to all their duties for the day, and now, had nothing but free time for themselves.

You remember the moment where you thought it impossible for the Zen’in estate to have a calm day, especially since you were the most controversial figure there, yet, here you are, admiring what is a day without much, if any, commotion.

Naturally, you wonder what could’ve happened to have such stillness, and if it was something you’d be able to use in your favor now that you’re feeling a bit better. That rough patch of sickness sure got you quite the disadvantage, both physically and emotionally, so you could certainly use a day off.

“How… calm” You’d tell Mariya while closely watching her take out your attire for the day: something warm to fight the rising winter, but adequate enough to not make you feel overcrowded. “It’s… kind of eerie.”

“Fits with the day, doesn’t it?” she says with a smile.

“The day…?” you blink—what made today so special?

“Halloween, of course” Mariya responds “The 31st of October, Saturday in fact. The end of the week.”

Oh.

How could you have forgotten that, especially after being constantly reminded of it?

But most importantly…

Has it really been that long since your wedding?

It was ironic to even say that, since you’ve always considered that time at the Zen’in estate felt like an eternity. But now, it’s been months since you’ve last seen your family, friends, and freedom—yet they remain in your mind vividly as ever.

Given the date they’re probably already working, eased into their stations as they prepared to watch over the night.

As every year, you assumed, Ren would’ve told you that he’d rather stay home watching horror movies or go out to the city and make the best of this western celebration instead of working; while Hinata thought the complete opposite, wanting to go to work because she gets to see curses that don’t come out that often, or perhaps even new ones. Always the workaholic, your sister.

And you, on the other hand… well, you just wanted to go out anywhere, really. After years and years of seclusion, you were itching to see the world and uncover all its mysteries.

But you suppose that staying inside will be good too, not that it was your decision to make, but at least you’ll have company this time.

“Oh, right” you eventually respond. “Wow, I didn't think it was today already.”

“Time flies, doesn’t it? Especially if you’re busy.” Mariya sighs. Something in her tone tells you she’s been wanting to take a break for a while now, but that is not meant to happen so easily for the prime lady-in-waiting.

“Then you’re already centuries ahead” You chuckle, she agrees with a laugh of her own. “All I’ve been doing is sleep and stay in my room… so I’m more than ready to do literally anything else for a change.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Y/N. But it seems I won’t be able to help you this time” Mariya says, placing your clothes on the bed. “Since everybody is out of the estate for work, most of the staff doesn’t have duties to do, outside of cleaning I suppose… but what is there to clean if there is no one dirtying it?”

You nod along, she makes a whole lot of sense now that she puts it that way.

“Must be the favorite day for the staff, hm?”

“It’s relaxing, I can admit that.” Mariya adds “We can essentially do whatever we want without being constantly watched… kind of, there’s still the staff of the master’s to worry about, but as long as we don’t look like we’re relaxing too much, we should be fine.”

“Do you celebrate Halloween?”

“Not really, I mean, I would just go down to the village market and see whatever seasonal stuff they have—but even then, I don’t usually buy much” Mariya reminisces, last year, there was a particular vendor who sold a wide collection of impressive masks, proclaimed to be hand-painted by himself, ranging from silly, moderately adorable, to straight up terrifying.

Certainly, the man had talent for his craft, and it made Mariya wonder if he’ll be there this year again, maybe she should go down there and buy one just to support him.

And the year before that, the villagers set up a small puppet theater to tell horror stories, nothing too scary, just something to entertain those who wished to indulge in the seasonal ambience. It was mostly, if not completely, family oriented. Mariya found herself listening to one or two stories whenever she could.

While the people of the Zen’in clan thought these days tedious, others considered it a day of leisure—truly, two sides of the same coin.

“But outside of that, I just spend my time here. It’s essentially an extra day off so I just use it to call my family, or hang out with Tatsuro” She adds “What about you? Do sorcerers celebrate Halloween or is it just for work?”

“A bit of both” you respond.

“Shibuya?”

“Oh, no—I have never been one to enjoy that kind of environment.” you chuckle “It can get too chaotic, though I did dress up when I was younger…”

“No way!” Mariya gasps, a grin parting her lips as she tries to imagine the kind of costume your younger self would’ve worn. “At least tell me there's pictures!”

“Too many! My dad would make my mom take pictures of us all the time” you giggle, a whole… dozens of albums were probably made thanks to his bottomless need of “capturing the moment”, and that quantity was probably per child .

Thankfully your mother knew just how to control his obsession, taking out the pictures she considered less than flattering, and putting the rest into a sensible amount of… 5 albums. A far more normal amount to have instead of the thousands of before.

“We’d do it every year, but there is one I remember the most—I think I dressed up as some kind of… ghost, or something? And my sister was a cat…”

“And your brother?”

“Someone… from a girl group” you quietly say “Don’t ask.”

“I won’t—seemed like fun anyways.” she smiles. “By the way, now that I don’t have any suggestions, is there something you’d like to do instead?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude on your free day”

“Ah, you’re not intruding at all… I’m all caught up with what I have to do anyways, and Tatsuro wanted the day for his friends so, it’s just us, Haruko, Hitomi… and who knows, if Junko-san is lenient enough, maybe even the twins?”

Your face immediately lightens at the thought of seeing Mai and Maki again. God knows how long it had been since you last saw them, wanting to thank them for the lovely letter they gave you during the beginning of your sickness—a reunion was definitely long overdue.

But before you could even think of anything else, your stomach in its usual starving fashion, begins to grumble, making you blush out of embarrassment, Mariya chuckling out of humor.

“I’ll think about it after breakfast” you join her laughter soon after. “I’m starving!”

Seems that you weren't the only one with that sentiment of wanting to see the other, for as soon as you enter the dining hall, you’re tackled by your favorite twins, Mai and Maki, followed by their cheerful greetings, expressing how much they missed you and been wanting to see you, and just couldn't wait to spend their day alongside you… 

But then, their stern mother comes in, ordering them to release you and behave, for that is no way to treat the lady of the house, before looking up to you and giving you a scolding of your own.

“You ought to stay in bed until a doctor deems you healthy!” Junko says, carefully pulling away the kids from you, but the girls didn’t follow, their small grip still tight on your clothes. “You’re going to get everyone sick!”

“Junko-san, Y/N has been feeling much better since a few days ago” Mariya intervenes, having gone ahead to the kitchen to get your food, setting it next to what she assumed to be Mai and Maki’s seat. “Besides, who is left to get sick? It’s just us here at this point, and neither of us got sick.”

Junko doesn’t like how silly Mariya has become with her responses, albeit occasionally, mostly when you're around, giving her the impression that this is fsu,t of your influence…

But as foolish as her answer was, she was right, besides, Mariya wouldn't allow you out of your bedroom unless she deemed it appropriate. If there's one thing she can't deny, is her commitment to the job.

At this point, all that Junko can do is hope that your behavior doesn’t rub off on her daughters, which she's subtly caught these past few days… they’re relentless on their own, that much she can say.

"Don't cough near my daughters at least" Junko gives a final warning before retreating back to the table and continuing eating.

"Of course not, Junko-san" you reassure her. The last thing you'd want is get them sick too. Oh, how elated you were to know you were the only one sick.

After that was set, you guide the girls back to the table, sitting in between the two, giving a small prayer of gratitude for the meal, and beginning to eat breakfast.

“I wasn’t expecting to see the two of you here” you say before the first bite, them mimicking you soon after. “Don’t have much to do on this day?”

“They do” Junko intervenes before they’re able to respond “They have homework and chores to complete around the house.”

“Chores?” you ask, looking at her with disbelief. “What can they possibly have to do on Halloween?”

“Halloween?” Mai ponders “What’s Halloween?”

You gasp, Junko frowns.

“ No —Don’t tell me they don’t know what Halloween is, Junko-san!”

“They don’t need to know that” she says, “That is a western celebration, nothing my children need to know.”

“But it’s fun!” you retort playfully “You get to eat candy, dress up—”

“Or eat pumpkin!!” Haruko suddenly appears out of thin air, alongside her sister, who was helping her carry the humongous big orange pumpkin over to the table, dropping it with a loud thud that makes everyone flinch. "Whoops, sorry—but it's impressive, right? Can you believe I got it at the market?" 

“How… did you manage to find that?” Junko is the first to respond, completely hypnotized and, well, startled by the pumpkin, enough to forget scolding her, for she had never, ever seen one of its size, less be carried by someone as scrawny as Haruko or Hitomi… seems like a situation out of a dream, so she needs to be pulled back to reality.

“Let’s say I have a rather amicable relationship with a farmer… might have exchanged some goods for it too…” Haruko murmurs, Junko raises an eyebrow. “But that doesn’t matter! What matters now is that I have this huge pumpkin to literally do anything I want! But I’m also accepting suggestions.”

“We can eat it, like you said.” Mariya reiterates. “Or carve it, although it seems like a waste for something as big as that. I’d rather have Haruko prepare us something instead, I already know it’ll be tasty, right, Hitomi?”

The seamstress looks at her for a brief second, before glancing away, not even answering.

Right.

The two have yet to make up.

… Well, Mariya still hopes she’ll join the group for whatever they end up doing that day.

“Seems like the court is leaning more into eating it…” Wanting to stop the rising awkwardness between the two, Haruko sways the conversation back to her. “So.. I’ll leave it to the twins! What do you two want to do, eat or carve?”

“Eat!” the two respond in unison.

“No, you will not!” Junko interjects.

“Huh???” Haruko groans “Why are you so against them having fun?!”

“...They can have fun without eating junk food” She retorts “They are not intertwined”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh on them?” You ask “It’s just for one day, and the food that Haruko makes is very delicious, it's a once in a lifetime experience they can’t miss!”

“I won’t be questioned by you regarding my parenting” Junko frowns. “What is done, is done. And my word is final.”

“Ah, Junko-san…” Mariya laments when he sees the round face of the girls scrunch in disappointment. They were looking forward to spending their whole day with you, or at least part of it… only for their mother to tell them it was not going to happen.

And not only that, but she was also cutting them off from things they have never experienced in their life; something as silly as celebrating Halloween couldn’t possibly do them harm… but if she already made up her mind, there really is nothing else that she could do—

“…Fine” Junko would relent eventually, not really out of her own volition, but she guesses that just as the rest of the estate is doing, they too deserve a break. To partake in a celebration, while she never understood nor liked, alongside people that actually want to spend time with them.

It’ll be a nice change of pace for the three, Mai and Maki will be rightfully distracted, and she… Well, she’ll be able to have some time for herself. Much needed time for herself.

“But they will not eat sugar, they will not go to forbidden areas, whatever you’ll do it’ll be with the utmost respect of the rest that stayed behind, and they will absolutely not go to sleep past their curfew” Junko begins to list her conditions, with such fastness that made the whole group think she intended to give them permission to be with you from the very beginning, just wanted to make you work for it.

Either way, neither will deny how elated they were that the twins will be able to stay under your care, and for the whole day it seems considering the last requirement. Because of this, the girls literally gobbled down the rest of their food, excited to start with the next activity.

“Thank you, Junko-san” you say, giving her a smile “I promise to take great care of your girls!”

Junko doesn’t say much outside of a hum, or a frown when Haruko teases “We’ll save you a piece!” before picking up her plate and exiting the hall, seemingly to take her meal in a more silent area, getting to enjoy that she won’t have to tend to her obnoxious, picky husband for the day.

Once away, the new leader of the group, Haruko , turns to see the rest of the group with a wide grin on her face.

“Who’s ready to bake some pumpkin pie?!” She hypes, the twins jumping on their spot, joining her wave of excitement.

“We are!!”

“Then let’s go!!” Haruko cheers “I will lead you through the wonderful adventure that cooking a pie is!!”

“—ok so… maybe I shouldn't have bought that big of a pumpkin." Few hours later, and a ridiculous amount of pumpkin pies, Haruko rightfully concludes, alongside noting that she could essentially open a store with how many she made…

"I told you… but you always like to go to the extremes don't you?" Hitomi sighs, shaking her head "We truly don't need a dozen pies—we can't possibly eat all of them"

"Not that I was planning on doing that… but yes, this is too much. What am I going to do?!" Haruko cries.

"I mean, we can save it for another day" Mariya suggests "Or give it to some of the staff members, I'm sure at least one of them will appreciate it"

"Why not sell it?" Maki asks "That way you can get your money back"

"Ah, quite the businesswoman there, aren't you?" Haruko chuckles, Maki blushes. "But I wouldn't sell it, I mean, I didn't spend any money for it…"

"How'd you get it, then?" It's your turn to ask, for there's no way anyone would give away for free the humongous pumpkin she got, it was like a gold mine!

"It was a favor, I did something for the farmer and the farmer did something for me—that's all." Haruko admits. "Nothing special, really"

"Something tells me you're not telling the truth" You tease with a smirk "Come on, tell me, what did you do to get it?"

"Ah, nice try Y/N, but I'm not going to tell you my secrets!" She shakes her head "It'll be something that I take to the grave"

“Sounds awful a lot like a boyfriend to me…” you murmur, Haruko gasps.

“Shut up!!” she blushes “That is not true! Whatever Y/N says is not true!!”

"Alright, alright" you chuckle, as if Haruko didn’t make herself a more of an obvious target, but whatever. "I'll find out sooner or later though" 

"I wouldn't bet on it" Haruko shoots back "There's just some things you don't know about me… Anyways! Who’s ready for some pie?"

"Let me help you with the plates" You quickly offer, but she rejects you.

"Don't worry about it, I have it all under control! How about… you help me with something else?”

"Sure, what's up?"

"Let's say… while we eat some pie…how about we tell some horror stories, eh? Ghosts and that kind of stuff" Haruko eagerly suggests, making Hitomi roll her eyes, Mariya and you chuckle, and the twins… Well, one of them didn't like the idea, the other couldn't be any more enthusiastic.

“I don’t know…” Mai eventually speaks up, making you look at her with concern. 

“You don’t like scary stuff?” You ask, and she nods. The poor girl had never been a fan of the frightening, so the idea does not allure her, not one bit, this may be due to the fact that out of the two she’s the only one who gets to see curses, and they're not known for being easy on the eyes.

This is where Maki would step in, reassuring her that as long as she ignored them, nothing would happen. Easier said than done, of course, but Maki’s confidence always managed to inspire Mai, she just knew what to do or say to comfort her.

“It’s just stories, Mai” Maki would say. “They can’t harm you.”

“But they’re real…”

“Are they?” Hitomi would ask you, their go-to myth debunker when it comes to these things.

“Um, some of them” you respond honestly, only to regret it immediately after seeing Mai’s frowning face. “I mean—it’s just like Maki-chan said, they’re just stories, things that people make up to have fun.”

“Like the one about Hanako-san!” Haruko jumps in, trying to lift the mood… although how do you do that by bringing in a somewhat scary activity? 

“Hanako-san…?” Mai repeats.

“The one about the toilet?” Maki asks.

“Exactly—it’s quite silly if you think about it” Haruko continues “You’re supposed to call her name in a bathroom stall, knock on the door 3 times and wait for a response…”

“I remember doing something like that when I was younger” Mariya confesses “I went with a group of friends to see if we’d be able to see the ghost, but of course, nothing ever happened, outside of a girl screaming because someone had turned off the lights”

“Were you the one screaming?” You tease, she chuckles.

“Ah! Obviously not, Y/N!” she scoffs, feigning to be offended—and your interaction with her manages to ease Mai a bit, realizing there could be some fun behind the fright. “Who do you think I am?”

“Oh, nothing—you just told me everything” you shrug, she chuckles and you return to the twins. “Have you two heard of the legend of Hanako-san?”

“A bit”

“No.”

Thus, the first story of the day unfolds.

“I want to tell it!” Haruko cheers “But let me serve some slices first”

Haruko could’ve given Gojo a run for his money with the speed she manages to take out the plates, cut the pie and hand each and everyone present a slice. 

But before they start to eat, the group ends up choosing to move into a more comfortable setting, such as the room Mariya suggested, one that is rarely used, but still has a warm kotatsu , and is secluded enough to not be bothered by any unwanted interruptions.

Once everyone is settled, with Haruko already done with her slice, she takes a deep breath, and begins.

“Ok, so… Imagine you’re at school, you’re bored because the classes are awful—you could literally do anything else, anything , and you’d be much better. So, you begin to talk to your classmates, wondering “What can we do to kill this boredom?” and one of them suggests… “Why don’t we talk to Hanako-san?”

You wonder, “Who is Hanako-san? Are they from another class?” but they tell you “No, it’s a girl that lives in the bathroom!” That obviously sounds so, so silly, but because you don’t want to hear Mariya-sensei go on about the same thing over and over again, you decide to check it out.’

Hanako-san doesn’t appear in just any bathroom, though. It has to be on the third floor, in the girls restroom, on the third stall. Not the fourth, or the first, and if your school doesn't have 3 stalls then you can’t do it.

Luckily, your school does have it, and once you and your friends are there, the fun begins.

Because no one else wants to do it, and technically you were the one to inspire everything, you’re the one to knock on the door. You arm yourself with all the courage you can find, take a deep breath, and knock three times before calling the girl’s name.

“Hanako-san? Are you here?”

Seconds go by, and the only thing you hear is one of your friends complaining how this was just as boring as the other things they were doing before—and you find yourself almost agreeing to it… but then, a quiet, soft voice coming from the other side of the door responds…

“Yes, I am”

It’s Hanako-san .

No one believes it, you certainly don’t, but there’s no way to prove that unless opening the door and see what’s going on, right?? So you do, you open the door and there she is, the little girl called Hanako-san! An actual ghost!!

But what do you do from there? Like, you have a ghost right in front of you!! There’s so many things you can ask her!! So many things to do!

But she doesn’t let you do any, because as soon as she sees you, she grabs you by the arm and drags you down to hell!!!”

Mai gasps, flinching by the sudden, unexpected turn of events. While Maki is… well, disappointed by the way the story ended, having hoped to get more details of the ghost itself…

“Back in my day, she’d ask for a playmate…” Mariya says. 

“You make it sound like you’re that old.” Haruko responds. “But I guess it depends on the version. There’s too many stories that talk about hell and bathrooms anyways…”

“What’s up with that?” Hitomi asks “Are people afraid of restrooms or something?”

“Oh, it’s not that per say… it’s just that restrooms, like schools, are places that most if not everybody goes to” you attempt to rationalize, inwardly laughing once realizing how similar you were to Hinata right now. You seriously doubted they wanted to know the actual reason, but it’s too late to back up now—guess you’ll have to completely take on the role of nerd for this occasion. 

“That makes sense, I guess.” Hitomi says, reminiscing on another famous urban legend consisting of a similar background. “But… Why do you have to fight for your life in the restroom? It’s like aka manto… ”

“I mean, we’ve all fought for our lives in the toilet at one point, right?” Haruko jests.

“Ewww” Mai cringed, having quickly understood what she meant. The cook just laughs.

“What is that one about?” Maki asks, eager to get her small hands on another story, the story legend of the day.

“Someone that’s supposed to appear in restrooms too, however, this one you can’t summon, it’s supposed to appear on its own” Hitomi begins to explain. “The spirit wears a red cloak, or a blue one depending on the area, and it offers you two kinds of paper, a blue one and a red one. Depending on your answer, it’s what is going to happen to you.”

“I’d pick the red one.” Maki says confidently.

“I wouldn’t pick either…” Mai murmurs.

“Mai-chan would survive, actually,” Hitomi reveals, making Maki groan.

“Why? What’s gonna happen to me??”

“You’d get—” She stops, debating whether she should tell two little girls the gruesome details of her choice… although something tells her that Maki would like to know all about it.

Perhaps another time.

“You get pulled to hell, again”

“That’s not true—” Haruko was about to protest until her sister elbowed her, letting her know to keep quiet. “I mean, who would’ve known it would lead to the same thing? Ha!”

The twins may be young, but they are not naive, and they’re quick to notice that, but before they can confront the sisters about it, Mariya steps in.

“Oh, I know one! It’s a pretty popular one, but maybe Mai and Maki haven’t heard of it!” Mariya says enthusiastically “The one about kuchisake-onna ”

“Kuchisake…onna?” Mai repeats slowly, and just as Mariya supposed, it was the first time she’d ever heard of such a character, meanwhile Maki has heard more than enough, but was eager to hear a complete retelling of the legend.

“Yes” Mariya begins “It’s the story of a woman that lurks the streets at night… whom you only get to see if alone. There’s nothing special about her, outside of her gorgeous face, which she covers under a mask. 

You may wonder, why would she hide such beauty if it’s so great?

That’s easy—it’s all because she hides a terrible secret underneath...!”

Mai’s eyes widened out of intrigue.

“What…. What is she hiding?” she quietly adds.

“A horrible, hideous smile stretching from one ear to the other!” Mariya gasps, making the youngest of the twin’s gasp as well. “ Kuchisake-onna will find you alone and ask you if you find her beautiful, if you say yes, she’ll take off her mask, revealing her true face to ask you the same thing, and if you say yes once again, she’ll cut—”

“Ugh, booooooriiiiing!!!!” Haruko groans, rolling her eyes. “You revealed the good part too quickly, and nobody likes that!”

Mai doesn’t bother to hide the fact that she’s elated Haruko interrupted Mariya from finishing the story, for out of the three, this had been the most terrifying one yet, a sigh escaping her lips soon after. Maki, however, frowns, irritated by the same reason—why wouldn’t they let her know what’s going to happen? She’s old enough to take it!

“But it’s still scary, Haruko.” Mariya responds.

“But not as scary as it should be” She counters “It’s like a joke, it’s not funny anymore if you have to explain it!”

“Well, excuse me” It was now Mariya’s turn to be irritated. “Had I known you were going to find my storytelling so dreadful , I would’ve gone somewhere else.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Haruko cries, caught off guard by her reaction. She didn’t think it was that… serious. “I was just saying—”

“No, you said enough” She interjects, quickly standing up from her seat and heading towards the door. “I’ll be somewhere else, preferably where my stories will be appreciated”

“Wait, Mariya!” Haruko pleads. “Where are you going?! I didn’t mean it like that!”

But her words would fall on deaf ears, for Mariya simply continued on with her path, closing the door and leaving behind a group of speechless, concerned onlookers who wondered if this had really happened.

“Is she… angry?” Maki is the first to speak, a question that while it might appear obvious, managed to instill confusion in everyone.

“I don’t know.” you say as honestly as you could, being another of the bunch that believed that her behavior might’ve been… a bit extreme. “It’s not like her to be like that…”

“Who knows.” Hitomi quietly adds.

“What do we do now…?” Mai asks.

“There’s nothing we can do.” you suppose. “If she wants to do something else, we should let her.”

The girls press their lips together and hum—silently agreeing with your words, believing that perhaps Mariya genuinely wanted to do something else, perhaps suddenly remembered a pending task or… well, wanting to clear her mind from Haruko’s seeming imprudence. Who knows.

“Either way, I’m sure we still have other stories to go through” you try to reassure them, move the conversation away from the uncomfortable, overwhelming tension surrounding Mariya, and back to their fun activity.  “Anyone wants to volunteer for a story?”

“I don’t know if I want to…” Haruko pouts, effectively shoved away from participating.

“I have one, then” Hitomi steps in.“And this one is a real one, because it happened to my mother.”

The interest of the group pikes.

“To mom? ” Haruko asks “What… happened?”

Technically, the fourth story of the evening.

“A long time ago, she used to work in a hotel as a housekeeper. Her responsibilities were simple, she’d clean after the vacated rooms, make them presentable for whichever guest is next, or do whatever other cleaning was needed around the building.

She’d always tell me that her time there was mostly uneventful, quite boring if she was being honest, but it was a good pay and that was enough for her to stay.

However, all would change the day she was assigned the night shift—apparently the receptionist had called in sick, and mom, wanting to take on bigger responsibilities for a while now, was quick to offer herself to cover them.

Since the night is usually calm, and it was just her that shift, mom decided to go around cleaning a bit of things while something happened. Just checking if everything was in place, reading some magazines for time to pass by quickly, that kind of stuff… until the phone began to ring.

Mom wasn’t unsettled by the call in the middle of the night, for she was informed that someone might do that to check the availability of a room, usually a backpacker hoping to rest a bit before moving on with their trip…

What unsettled her was the person on the other side of the line.”

“Who was it?!” Haruko suddenly frets, slicing through her story and making her frown. The cook gets the silent message which makes her apologize immediately after.

“Anyways, as I was saying….

She responded with the customary greeting, expecting to be asked about room availability, fares and prepared for it… but instead, she was received with silence.

My mom would insist again, believing it was a problem with the phone service at first, but when there was still no response, she thought it was a prank and hung up.

She’d move on quickly after, back to whatever she was doing prior… until the phone rang again. 

It was the same procedure as before, greeting, waiting to be asked for prices… and be received with silence. Mom didn’t take much longer after that to hang up, but by the third time, she finally decided to check the caller id, find out if it was a friend of hers or something wanting to pull a prank on her…

Only to receive the most frightening realization.

It was coming from the inn, from one of the rooms… where no one was staying.

Naturally, my mother was deeply concerned and wanted to check the room, but she couldn’t just leave her post due to safety measures, so she stayed, attempting to talk to the person on the other side and tell them to stop whatever it was that they intended to do, to no avail…

She hung up once more. Wanting to believe it was nothing but a mistake, but as much as she wanted, that wouldn’t make sense—no one can use a phone unless they were physically there, right?

An hour or so would pass before she received another call, one she’d greet as any other…

But this time, when she put her ear against the phone, hearing the same white noise as before… She felt different. She felt as if the reason behind these calls weren’t to prank her, but rather… to talk to her.

She didn’t know why she did it, but once inundated with this feeling that the person on the other line desperately wanted to have a word with her, she said:

“Everything is fine. We’ll be ok. Don’t worry about me—you can rest.”

And then, the call ended, but from the other side.”

“What… happened after that?” You asked what everyone in the room wondered once Hitomi went silent.

“A few hours later my mom would come back home to the awful news that her sister, my aunt, had passed away—and just around the same time she received the last call.”

Everyone’s heart sinks.

“My mom thought it to be a coincidence at first, but after reflecting on that sentiment… Well, it made sense. She took it as my aunt trying to say goodbye one last time. And while it was a bit eerie at first, she’s now glad that she didn’t just ignore the calls and got to bid her a peaceful farewell.”

“That’s… wow . I… Well— I don’t know what to say, it’s both scary yet… sad.” you say, the twins agree.

“I know, but if it’s worth anything, mom looks back at it with fondness. I’m not going to deny that this did make me wonder if things like the afterlife and such exist—Although I’m sure I can at least say that the paranormal does, thanks to you.” Hitomi chuckles.

“I guess so” you give her a tight smile “Well, I’m glad that at least your aunt was able to pass on without regrets.”

“Me too.” Hitomi responds.

“I didn’t know this.” Haruko admits. “It must’ve been awful for mom. How long ago was that?”

“A few years before moving in with dad so… probably when she was 14, 15?” Hitomi guesses “She was pretty young when it happened.”

“Thank you for sharing this story with us.” you add.

“Thank you for listening” she responds with a smile “But I didn’t want it to be taken as something melancholic! It’s still kind of creepy, right? So let’s keep the scary stories coming—Haruko, you’re next.”

“Huh? Why me!” she gasps “I just told one, and I’m not in the mood after what happened with Mariya-san…”

“You’re the one that asked for scary stories” she frowns “You ought to know a few!”

“I want to hear some, not tell them!” She retaliates “There’s a big difference in that…”

“Ugh, I guess so…” Hitomi rolls her eyes, before looking back at you. “It’s your turn then. Y/N”

“Me?” You blink, startled. “Ah, well… I don’t really know many stories, outside of the popular ones I mean”

“Now that is a lie if I ever heard one!” Haruko scoffs “Are you going to tell me that you , a sorcerer, don't know any scary stories?! Of all of us, you’re possibly the one who had the most chance in actually seeing a ghost!”

“I mean if you put it that way…” you murmur “…Let me see…”

You had a vast variety of stories to tell, obviously, but you didn’t want to settle for something they’d consider boring or predictable— you wanted to make an impression!

But what could you say…? What kind of story could leave them in awe …?

And then, it comes to you. After a quick recollection, you eventually settle for something a bit more… different, so to speak, something that shocked you the first time you heard about it and now, had no doubt in your mind that they’d have the same reaction.

“There’s one legend that I like in particular” you eventually begin “I read about it at school, when studying curses from other countries.”

The sisters perk their ears, eyes solely focused on you—you now had their undivided attention for the fifth story of the day.

“It happened a long time ago, during the colonial era of a distant country.

You know how any song with a particular catchy tune would become popular? Enough for everyone to sing it until becoming tired of it, repeating the same cycle when the next tune comes along and so on?

Well, that’s exactly what happened back then. Nobody knows where the melody came from, only that it was a beautiful tune that everyone liked to dance along to.

The song had no lyrics at first, but its popularity would soon fix that, with someone anonymously writing them.

But don’t think they were nice lyrics to match the tune, no. The words were very explicit, more so for the very religious society that it was. It was so barbaric, that singing or dancing the song would send you to jail!

Because of this, the song's popularity eventually diminished… or so they thought. 

One day, a group of people were having a party in one of the most dangerous areas of the city. Everything was going on as normal, as expected of a party, until a horrible, terrible lament was heard from a nearby ally, just when it became midnight.

Their voice was indistinguishable, unable to figure out if it was a woman or a man speaking… only that they were singing the forbidden song.

This succession would go on for days, in the same place, at the same time, to the point where the alley began to be completely avoided.

No one dared confront them… until a group of valiant, yet drunk people, decided to do so.

They made a bet, and whoever lost would be the one going to see who the mysterious voice was. Once the loser was chosen, the group of friends told them they’d be waiting as they went on to see who the voice belonged to.

Nothing happened much at first, with even some believing the loser didn’t even go. But a few seconds later, loud yells for help were heard.

The desperation behind the voice was so chilling, that it kicked the alcohol out of their system and forced them to rush towards their friend, finding him completely unconscious in the middle of the street.  

They took him to the doctor, where he’d remain under supervision for hours, until he finally woke up.

His friends naturally asked him what happened, why did he scream for help? And so, he tells them:

At first it was difficult to see, for the alley was completely dark at that time of the night, however, upon walking deeper into the alley, they were able to make out a figure, which he presumed to be that of the mysterious voice.

He was still too far away to make out their face, but he was able to see that the figure would sway from one side of the street to the other, with such speed that it made it seem they were floating. 

He tried to take a closer step, regardless of how eerie this looked, but before he could do as much, the figure had suddenly closed in on him, enough to finally see its face!

And what he saw… oh, what he saw was horrible!

It was a disfigured face, torn apart and complete bloodied, with the socket of its eyes completely empty and a presence so overwhelming, he could only assume that he had seen none other than the devil himse—!”

Boom!

Without further precedent, the lights suddenly go off and everyone screams. With Haruko being the loudest one, letting out a blood curdling screech that would make anyone think someone was being murdered and unwittingly scaring the rest even more. Mai and Maki quickly hug you for comfort, you hug them back, and Hitomi… well, she jolts, before smacking her.

“What is wrong with you?! Calm down!” Hitomi scolds “Compose yourself! You’re scaring everyone!”

“I’m—I’m sorry!” She frets, heart already thundering and ears ringing. It takes her a few seconds to process the darkness in which they are in, as well as to disconnect it from your frightening story. “I just—that was scary!!”

“Yeah, sure. Really funny, Haruko. Now turn on the lights.” Hitomi frowns.

“What do you—What makes you think that was me?!” Haruko gasps.

“Well, who else! Anyone else here look like they can shut down the power?”

“First of all, I can’t see, second of all, how am I supposed to do that when I’m also here with you, idiot!”

“ Language ” you murmur, Haruko quietly apologizes. “But then… who was it?”

If the girls could look at each other, they would do so, yet everyone knew they were on the same page. The mystery makes everyone remain speechless, their minds galloping a thousand miles per second in attempts to figure out if this had been intentional, or just an accident.

Until the door begins to rattle.

Everyone’s eyes shot wide open, quickly swirling at the origin…

“Who’s there?” You were the first to ask, tightly holding onto the twins as they lean further into you.

Once the question flew past your lips you felt incredibly silly, for there really is no reason to be this frightened about someone standing on the other side of the door—but call it an effect of having told nothing but horror stories, you can’t help but feel like there’s something beyond it.

As if by pure coincidence, you actually summoned something.

No, of course not. Perhaps it’s your worry for the young girls that has you thinking like that, alongside Haruko’s comically scary scream, and the shock of being in complete darkness—

Or the fact that your question remains unanswered, while the door continues to rattle… 

“Go check, Hitomi” Haruko eventually urged, but even the seemingly fearless seamstress must have her weaknesses…

“What? Why me ? You do it!”

“No, you do it! Where’s the all-mighty Hitomi?!”

“Maki… I’m scared…”

You need to act fast then. Even if it’s a prank, you don’t like how the rest of your entourage is acting—it’s not even funny anymore.

So, you proceed by carefully peeling yourself from the twins, standing up from the seat and then reach for the door. 

“Y/N!” Haruko cries. “No! Careful!”

“I’ll be fine…” you tell her, before whispering “I think…”

You seek reassurance by reminding yourself that this is just another person, maybe wanting to check if everyone was alright after the power outage—wait, was it just this area, or was it the whole estate?

Either way, the tension in the air is undeniable, thick enough to make you feel as if you were sinking on the spot, trying your hardest to move but nothing would come out aside from trembles, and the sensation of your heart dropping further into your stomach the closer you got to the door.

Yet, you pushed forward, for the sake of Mai, Maki, Haruko, and Hitomi. You had to.

But just as you were a few feet away from the door, the rattling stops abruptly, and so do you.

You know the rest of the group to be pondering, fearing the same thing as you, until the noise suddenly ceases, giving all a false sense of relief, as if they managed to escape unscathed this time–only for the door to slowly slide open.

The smallest rays of light come through the slit, but not enough to reveal the culprit behind the scare… only their clawed hand, sternly gripping the edge.

By that point the whole group is tightly holding onto each other, doing silent prayers for the gods to be merciful enough so that whatever is about to happen, does so quickly and painlessly.

But it’s a hope that soon diminishes when a horrifying face peaks over the door, a devilish red skin face, a twisted darkened smirk baring long yellow fangs, two horns coming out from the top of its head, intently staring at nothing but them, it’s new prey—it’s safe to assume that a this point, everyone was beyond petrified.

You tried to move, tried to react for the sake of your survival but no noise would come out from your throat. Only a whimper when the mysterious, frightening figure took a step inside, slowly raising its arms to what you could simply assume was your end.

The one making a noise, however, would be the mysterious figure before you, taking a deep exhale before loudly yelling:

“ BOO! ”

“AAAAH!!”

It was Hitomi screaming this time,

“Happy Hallowe— what in the… what?!” The creature says with an oddly familiar voice, which upon removing what turned out to be a mask, reveals it was the previously-gone Mariya all along. 

What used to be excitement for a prank well done, was now replaced with concern, and a bit of guilt too, given the way she was stared back in pure fright, with some even harboring tears in the corners of their eyes! "What… what happened?"

“What do you mean what happened?!” Hitomi shrieked. “You’re out here scaring us after the light went off, how imprudent can you be Mariya-san?! What if we’ve just lost electricity for the rest of the day?!"

“Oh. Oh . Ah, about that…” Mariya nervously adds, scratching the back of her head. “I don’t think that’s going to be that big of an issue…”

“Why?" Haruko adds, the thought of being in complete darkness for the rest of the day doesn’t seem appetizing to her, at all .

“Let's say… I was the one that… did.. that…” Mariya explains, and the rest gasp. “I mean! It was only for a moment, and here only of course, all part of my prank.”

“Prank” Hitomi repeats “A prank ”

“Just something for Halloween! Thought it would be nice to do something a bit more fun , that’s all… didn’t expect to see you girls like this though… Well, fortunately, I have something to make up for all the sorrow I’ve put all of you through!” Mariya beams, stepping aside to reveal Tatsuro, who carried a box.

“Hey…” the man nervously greets, intimidated by the negative response from their part, as well as the tension between him, Mariya, and Hitomi. Tatsuro didn’t want to appear as affected by it, but it was hard to not crumble beneath Hitomi’s icy gaze.

“What is it?” you manage to ask once your heart calms down. Now that it was finally revealed to be nothing but a prank, you’re able to relax. Although you still worry a bit for Mai and Maki, who upon quick glance seemed to be a bit more relieved—still startled, but enough to place their interest somewhere else.

“It’s going to be a very sweet apology—that I hope will compensate for the scare” Mariya says as her hands dive into the box Tatsuro was carrying, soon taking out a few small fabric bags. “Do you have any idea of how hard it is to get these? Thankfully, Tatsuro here knew just the right person for that!”

Being the closest one, Mariya gives you the first bag.

“Here, for you” She says with a smile. 

“Thank you” You nod, soon opening the bag and grinning when seeing its contents: they were a wide variety of candies, from all kinds of well known brands, to even international ones… Mariya did seem to put a lot of effort into getting them—and for that, you’re grateful.

“This one is for Haruko” she hands another. “I tried to get you a bit more variety… but there’s only so much I could find. Still, I hope you’re able to like them”

“No way… you did this all for me?!” she breathes upon seeing the contents.

“Of course! Knew you’d like to extend your palette” Mariya then turns to the twins, who were eagerly looking at her, like children during Christmas morning.

“And I hope you two are not tired of sweets just yet, because I got you the most out of all, because kids your age should eat more sweets!” She says, the girls swiftly grabbing their respective bags, a grin on each of their faces. “But you need to promise me something”

“Anything!” Maki responds 

“Don’t tell your mom about this—she won’t be very happy with me if she figures it out. If you need to hide them, I can do that for you too” 

Mai and Maki giggle, giving her a nod as well as a unanimous “Promise!” before diving into their gifts.

And now that they were set… the only person left was Hitomi.

Mariya didn’t intend to leave her last to further isolate each other, no, of course not. No matter what happens between the two, she’ll always hold her dear in her heart.

However, she’ll have to admit that the one that got the best gift out of the 4 was her, and all because she hoped… This would finally help her obtain forgiveness.

“I… didn’t get you—I mean, I did, but it’s not the main thing” Mariya begins, hand reaching in for the box and taking a box , instead of the expected bag. By the way she holds it, you assume that the contents are heavy.

“I remember you saying how much you wanted to buy these books about patterns, I recently saw them at the market again and I thought… well, might as well get them.”

She nervously hands the box over to Hitomi, who receives it seemingly without emotion. She'd only stare at it, as if trying to remember which book she was referring to, before glancing up at her in complete silence.

Mariya begins to feel regretful, desolate at the impression that her gift had fallen from her graces and that this relationship had completely ended.

“I just want you to know that I’ll be here for you, whenever you need someone to talk to, or guidance, whether professionally or personally… I’ll always try to do my best to be there for you, because no matter what happens, you’ll always have a special place in my— oh! ”

Hitomi doesn’t let her finish before she tackles her with a hug, a gesture so quick that Mariya is initially startled by it, frozen as she tries to process what just happened, but before she could say anything, the seamstress wins her to it.

“I’m sorry.” Hitomi murmurs. “I… should’ve never acted the way I did with you. It was unprovoked and without good reason. I just allowed my feelings to get the best of—”

“No, I get it. I really do, Hitomi” Mariya says “It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to apology—”

“But it is” she interjects “Because I made you responsible for something I haven’t dealt with in my personal life. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, and I shouldn’t have waited this long to make amends… but, I was ashamed how big I allowed this to grow that I… I just thought it was best to leave it like that.”

Mariya gives her a soft smile, hugging her back.

“I understand, and I forgive you. Not that you needed my forgiveness, because I never took offense to your actions. I was just worried, that’s all.” She goes on. “Never forget I’m someone you can trust with anything—regardless if it’s good or bad. I’m always there for you”

Hitomi smiles back, happy that this is all in the past now.

“Thank you”

“Don’t mention it—I hope you like them!” Mariya says.

“I will, there’s just one small problem… ‘ Hitomi cautions.

“Oh no, don’t tell me I got the wrong ones!”

“No, you got the right ones.. However… I already have them” she chuckles.

“What?! Ah, I should’ve known!!” Mariya laments.

“It’s fine! I can send them to my mom, maybe she’ll teach my baby sister a thing or two, continue on with the family tradition”

“Very true”And you smile, too relieved to see that the two have finally reconciled.

“By the way… where did you get that mask and… gloves?” Haruko asks. “They’re…. Super creepy”

“I know, right?! Got them at the village a while ago, they’re from the same vendor from last year. Tatsuro was the one that suggested the prank, actually. But I did the whole planning.”

“Ah, did you?” you tease.

“Guilty as charged.” Tatsuro laughs.

“Wait… so what was the whole angry thing about?” Hitomi blinks. “Are you angry, I mean?”

“Nope! I just needed the perfect excuse to put my plan in motion, and that was it! But… I apologize if I made anyone upset”

“You worried us there for a bit” You admit. “We were debating whether to follow you or not…”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t!” Mariya chuckles “Because my surprise would’ve been ruined! But enough of that, let’s continue enjoying Halloween! I hope you’re still telling scary stories, ‘cause Tatsuro here has some pretty creepy ones!”

“How about it, Mai, Maki? Do we keep on telling scary stories?” you ask, looking at them—but they were far past the point of listening to stories, already gobbled down through their fourth candy by this point. But even when deep into their candy trance, one of them still manages to lift their face from the bag, looking at you with a chocolatey grin before declaring:

“This is the best Halloween ever!”

It was way past midnight when Naoya eventually made his return to the estate.

There’s no one to receive him at the door, except the cold, silent ambience of the night, and the only poor souls still awake during these hours, those in charge of keeping guard, who were surprised to see him this early in the day, and back already. Like always.

Naoya knew he’d be received with such a reaction, since it usually took a few days before any of the sorcerers deployed during this time to come back, either because the mission was lengthy, or because they decided to make the most of their stay wherever they were.

He was that kind of person too—he’d do his job, enjoy the city, and come back home fashionably late. 

This time, however, there’s nothing he wanted more than to come back as soon as possible. In fact, he had rushed to finish his mission —in record speed as eventually noted by others— simply because nothing from the outside world allured him, not when there’s something, or someone, far more important home.

“Welcome back, Naoya-sama” one of the staff members would say upon seeing him. It’s the most heartwarming thing he’ll get for a welcome, he supposes. “I hope your trip was enjoyable. Would you like me to call your sta—”

“How is my wife?” Is the first thing that Naoya comes out of his mouth, not a request for something to make his return more tolerable, he doesn’t care about that right now.

“I—I heard she was doing fine.” The man stammers, unsure how to proceed considering their turbulent past… he hopes that his answer is adequate enough, at least for now. “Much better than before, she just stayed inside the estate, accompanied by her staff… and so.”

Of course you would, Naoya notes, why wouldn’t you? He went through great lengths to ensure that would happen. A quick way to ensure your misery.

“I see” Naoya responds, and without further precedent, he dismisses the man, heading off to the depths of the dark halls with nothing but his solitude.

That’s how days are usually nowadays, he thought he’d get used to them by now, but he isn’t.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this loneliness—he was always accompanied, either by the superficial words of his family, or the jealous glances of others, there was always someone to keep an eye on him. 

Now he feels like he couldn’t be any more irrelevant, hell, not even his own staff waited for him. Not that they would, considering he came back unannounced… but he’s seen that sense of loyalty from others, and it makes him realize just how unlikeable he truly is.

There’s no denying that he’s tired, exhausted from exerting both his mind and his body beyond their limits these past few days. A good night’s rest is well deserved at this point.

Nonetheless, there’s still something bothering him in the back of his head that won’t let him rest, and it’s this thought that guides him to your room.

Even when there’s another voice telling him that he shouldn’t visit you like this, that he should respect your wishes and leave you alone, his heart can’t be that far from you, he doesn’t want to be stranded from you anymore .

Through careful steps and watchful eyes, Naoya eventually arrives in your room. He stares at the door for a few seconds, as if still debating whether to proceed or not, before making his decision by placing his hand on the edge and sliding it open.

If not by the moonlight, your husband wouldn’t have been able to see inside—but there you were, laying on your side, peacefully sleeping in your bed. The sight is enough to warm his heart, almost to sway him away… but he steps inside, closing the door behind him soon after.

He silently walks over to your side, hoping that you wouldn’t notice his presence, and stops at the edge of your bed. Naoya then kneels down to your level, stays like that for a few seconds, pressing his lips in deep thought before taking a chance and laying down to your side.

It had been so, so long since he had you this close, it almost felt like a dream, so he couldn’t hold himself back from draping his arm over you, nuzzling as close as possible, taking in your scent which always calmed him down, checking you hadn’t woken up… before beginning.

“I’m home, Y/N” he whispers. “After days away… I’m finally home.”

…

…

Silence.

“It’s good to be back. Even if it was just for 2 days, it felt like an eternity for me. I really didn’t want to leave, but you know what they say— duty calls .” He chuckles. No response. “I loathed this year’s mission, mainly because I was paired up with someone I don’t really like. The work is already tedious, imagine doing it with someone obnoxious? And that’s without considering I had to cover for them most of the time”

He sighs.

“But I guess that doesn’t matter now, not when I’m finally here.

This time I was deployed to Nagoya this time because celebrations were expected to be a bit bigger. And they were— there were a lot of people dressed up stupidly, drinking even more stupidly too.

Can you believe I was called because of a silly costume? Apparently, someone was so frightened by it, they caused a whole commotion, to the point some “windows” thought it was an actual curse. The look on their faces when I told them it was just a person in tasteless makeup is one I’ll never forget! Ah, well, at least I won’t be stuck doing that case’s paperwork.

…Either way… I’ve been told that you’re feeling much better. I’m… glad you are— I was worried that when I was away your condition would worsen, and I wouldn’t be there to help you. Not that my presence here would make any difference, but… I could still do something, call someone if you need it, you know?

I hope the weather didn’t bother you that much either—it was pretty cold out there; and I know how ugly it can get here in the mountains… But I don’t worry too much because I know your staff will keep you comfortable, they’re very diligent with you. I've seen it and I’m glad it’s that way.

…

…

I can’t imagine how boring today must’ve been too. I don’t celebrate Halloween, but I imagine someone as fun like you must… right? Although… I don’t really know what you like. Either way, I’m sure you would’ve enjoyed going out, visiting some stores or something. 

…

…

I wish I could’ve taken you to do that. Like a… compensation for getting you sick, now that you’re a bit better. Get you to see the city, a change of scenery from this boring place. We don’t even have to do that, you know? Anything will do fine.

But…

But I know you won’t want to. I know you wouldn’t like to go with me because you…”

He inadvertently holds you tighter against him, trying to hold back the tears that have been forming in his eyes the past few minutes.

What would Naoya blame now?

Would he blame his brother for the rift between the two?

Or your sickness, the hindrance it brought?

Perhaps your inability to get along with his family’s costumes, because you were a so-called stubborn woman, stuck in “modern ways”?

…

…

…

No.

Not anymore.

Not when he finally knew why .

“Because… I… Because I frighten you”

You can’t even stand the sight of me without cowering in fear—because more than hate me, you fear me. And I have no one to blame but myself ” he sobs. 

“I was the one that made you feel that way towards me, I was the one that hurt you, humiliated you, and I still had the nerve to blame you for all of it.

Instead of helping you, I put myself against you. I acted as if you were the one to wrong me and allowed my family to further hurt you. I couldn’t even stand against my own father when he ordered you to be killed , because I was so angry you didn’t play along with the stupid joke I made! One I should’ve never done in the first place! How pathetic could I have been?!

How could I preach I care for you, how much I wanted you to be here, being my wife, when the first thing I did after exchanging vows with you is terrorize you ? When I should’ve been the one to protect you from any harm, I became that danger itself; ignoring how you were in pain, how you told me to stop, and yet I continued because I could only think of myself!

How could I even call myself your husband … when all I’ve ever done is keep you away from your family, allow my family to torment you… and then turn my back on you when you needed the most comfort?

No wonder you found solace on my brother. No wonder you wish to be with literally anyone else but me.

Because I’ve always been the one to hurt you. I've always been your tormentor…

And no one else but myself is to blame ”

It was a hard pill to swallow for Naoya. To finally admit what your actions had been screaming to him since the moment you married him.

But it was harder to admit that he always knew. That he always, deep inside him, knew he was the one responsible for the rupture of this marriage.

He just… he just didn’t want to admit it. Naoya didn’t want to accept that he had turned out to be just like the man he hated the most in his life—like his father . As if history were repeating itself.

Yet, the only thing that pains him more out of this situation is that while he remained in his delusions, he just hurt you even more, and more…

But never again.

Never again will he instill you the same pain he’s suffered.

Naoya will never, ever hurt the woman he considers to be the love of his life.

“I’m sorry” he breathes. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to hurt you. I’m sorry for the times I pushed you away and made you pay the consequences for my actions , when I should’ve defended you.

I’m sorry for allowing others to humiliate you, to stomp over your persona… and myself being one of them too.

I’m sorry for the awful lonely way I’ve made you feel, making you believe you’re worthless, when in fact, you are the most precious person in the world to me…

…

I promise to never hurt you again. I promise to mend all of my mistakes and become a husband worthy of your affection. A man you’ll be able to see without feeling fear.

Even if it takes me my whole life—I will stop at nothing to fix my mistakes and make a place where you can be happy, where you can be safe.

Even if… I’m not part of it. I will do it because it’s the right thing . It is my duty to you as your husband—as someone… that cares for you very much.”

Naoya kisses the top of your head before peeling away from your body, pushing himself up from the futon and heading towards the door. He gives you one last glance through his teary eyes, knowing well this is the last time he’ll ever be this close to you.

“I’m sorry for everything, Y/N. Goodnight.”

And then, he leaves.

Even when he knew it wasn’t perhaps the best moment to say them, he still meant them very, very much. 

Promises without actions are only empty words, that much he learned now, and it’s perhaps why he decided to meet you like this—because he knew that first, you’d reject any intention of conversing with him, secondly, because this is work that must be done in the background, things that must be realized without the acknowledgement of others, simply because it’s the right thing.

Yet, he still wished you to know, wanted to show you how much you mean to him… once again, a selfish act from his heart.

Naoya knows that the path of forgiveness will not be an easy one, if even accomplished, but it is something he’s willing to traverse. It’s his promise to you to mend all of his mistakes, to give you what you truly deserve.

A promise he intends to keep, a promise he meant .

So, he goes to his room and onto the bed, managing to get whatever little rest he could get after exhausting, endless days of work, preparing for whatever is to come next, leaving you alone, in your room, to do the same…

Only that you were now wide awake, had been since he started going on about his promises, intently listening to his sorrows and how much he regretted his actions—giving you the words that your heart has longed to hear for so, so long…

And instead of going back to sleep, all you could do is cry.

[fanficonly]

Wenclair- In Denial

Chapter 1

Thought I would post to Tumblr as well let me know what you think😋 Link to my Ao3 account for this chapter is also on my page.

Wenclair and a little Yokovina as well!

Summary: Both Wednesday and Enid are in denial about their feelings for one another and it becomes increasingly hard for them to hide their affections around others when they do often let their feelings show in private, through affirmations and sly remarks.

Again... Bad at summaries just enjoy 😋

She was beautiful. Mesmerising. Absolutely charming. Incredibly disarming and all together Perfect. But that didn't mean she wanted to couple up with her. She just enjoyed being around her is all.

Enid Sinclair. The bane and reason for Wednesday's continued existence on this wretched planet. She would never have guessed that such a positive, happy, upbeat person could make her feel so ... Content. But she loved being around Enid. Going on adventures with Enid. Eating with Enid. Talking to Enid. Sitting in silence with Enid. Everything and Anything as long as it was with Enid.

But she was never allowed to be the one to initiate such communications. Another reason she seemed to like being around her was that she never had to show interest yet Enid would drag her along to whatever activity sparked her interest that day. And of course Wednesday had no choice but to follow. Enid needed her... For ... Protection. She was so innocent and full of life and the Addams girl knew how cruel and dark the world could be. She vowed to always shield the blonde from all things painful and or traumatising, ever since the first spark of feelings hit Wednesday the day Enid had embraced her.

So when Enid burst into their shared dorm in a hyperactive happiness spree jumping on Wednesdays bed to wake her up, she didn't immediately attempt to murder her but instead indulged the Blonde.

"Wednesdayyyyy wake uuuuuup" she howled, bouncing up and down on the bed like she was on a pogo stick.

This prompted the Addams girl to shoot up and turn towards the feral half wolf that was on the verge of howling and scratching at the sheets beneath.

"Do you have no sense of personal space Piccola Lupa?" she somewhat groggily woke up, rubbing her temples to soothe the impending headache that threatened her pain receptors. Enid had become accustomed to Wednesday's continued nicknames for her but she never really understood what they meant. Among the lot of Italian, French and Spanish affirmations she never even looked them up. At first she had just assumed the Addams girl was hurling insults her way considering she would usually do it in the privacy of their dorm after Enid had been mildly(or moderately) irritating.

The one time she had absentmindedly asked Yoko what "Cucciola" meant she was startled by Wednesday popping up behind her, dangerously close, whispering "Puppy" in her ear. This prompted Enid never to ask again. It confused her too much, made her feel things that she knew were perilous and would make for a treacherous journey ahead in thier "Friendship". So she chose to just enjoy the little terms of endearment without reading too much into it.

"Nope" she popped the 'P' and grinned widely at Wednesday, flashing her fangs and causing the girl to admittedly forgive her without a second thought.

"What is it, Enid?" She asked now fully conscious and more aware of how she presented herself to her werewolf roommate.

"It's the annual Nevermore Fair! And I signed us up for set up crew" she beamed as if she had just told Wednesday she won the lottery.

"What on Earth would prompt you to do that?" She furrowed her brow in confusion, bewildered as to why Enid was so excited about a foolish school fair.

"Wens you know I love getting involved in school activities" she jumped off of Wednesday's legs and knelt beside her on the bed.

"Yes but why would you involve me?" She asked "You know I would rather cover myself in birdseed and hang myself from the nearest tree to allow the crows to peck out my eyeballs, than participate in school activities" she vividly explained, prompting a grunt from Enid while her face twisted into one of disgust. This only caused Wednesday to smirk at the girl's reaction.

"Graphic depictions of your death aside..." She shook the thought from her brain and continued "You have to do it Wednesday" she reasoned weakly.

"I think you're mistaken I don't have to do anything" she said as a matter of factly. This girl would be the death of Wednesday she was sure of it. As even the early wake up call, the invading of her personal space and the admission of forcing her into a mind numbing social event that she had already planned to avoid, she still wasn't mad at her. She even considered it for a split second and had to force the compulsion away with a weak grunt.

"Wednesdaaaaaay you do! We do everything together" her smile faltered a little bit she was still not disparaged.

"Not everything" Wednesday spoke rather defensively as if spending time with Enid willingly was forbidden.

"Well... enough things" Enid shrugged.

"Irrelevant" Wednesday spoke plainly but this didn't seem to deter the wolf in any way. In fact it only challenged her to try even harder for her attention, a toxic trait she knew she had but always found a way to justify it.

"Come ooooon" she whined grabbing Wednesday and shaking her a little much to the pigtailed girl's dismay. She just drifted, a deadeye stare past Enid's face trying to contemplate why she was allowing the blonde to touch her.

When Wednesday disassociated, Enid moved her own face into the girls eyeline and begged "Pleeeeaaaaase" she used her best puppy dog stare, her eyes practically glistening as she looked into Wednesday's wide eyes.

Wednesday sighed and Enid was sure she had succeeded until she watched her eyes flick away from Enid's as she said "No." Bluntly

"For me?" She blinked rapidly and dramatically moving her face to once again be in view of Wednesday.

"Enid you can't just say For me everytime and expect me to agree to your terms" she scolded the wolf with no empathy.

"Why not? It's worked up until now" she winked proudly and had to suppress the giggle that rose up in the back of her throat.

"That's alarming" Wednesday mumbled this to herself and was unable to stop the cluster of thoughts that swirled around in her brain, trying to explain her tolerance of her roommate.

Enid huffed out irritated but she had a plan B so it was ok "Listen you need to anyway for you're community service this would count for 6 hours at least annnnnd you will have me to keep you company" she raised her eyebrows hopeful for an agreeable response.

"Hmm ...I suppose" Wednesday gritted her teeth as she begrudgingly agreed.

"Yay! Let's go" she jumped off the bed resuming her hyperactive happy state she previously adhered too.

"Am I atleast permitted to change first?" She asked, a slight hint of sarcasm evident in her tone.

"Oh right of course!" She chuckled "See you down there!" She yelled as she ran out the door, letting it slam shut behind her

"Urrrgh" Wednesday allowed herself to let out a groan as she fell back on the bed.

Enid Sinclair. She will be the death of Wednesday Addams.

...

"There's no way she's coming" Yoko laughed handing Enid a piece of rope to connect to the metal pole. She skipped towards it looking over her shoulder and saying

"Don't be so negative" making a fake angry face at her vampire bestie.

"I thought you'd like it seeing as your type is negative, blood and people" Yoko winked "Paired with dark humoured goth girls with serious issues I thought you'd appreciate it" she teased as Enid returned to her side.

"Is not!" She defended but her voice came out rather squeaky as she lied through her fangs.

"Yeah sorry I gotta side with Yoko on this one" Divina chimed in after overhearing the conversation as she approached the two. She draped her arm over Yoko's shoulder placing a kiss on her cheek in greeting them, holding her fist out for Enid to fist bump while still attached to Yoko's side.

Enid being the overly affectionate person she is slapped her fist away "Get that away from me" she laughed then dived at Divina attacking her with a hug. She knew Divina enjoyed her hugs and only didn't go for one because she was obsessed with being close to Yoko.

"Oof!" The siren let out before smiling while shaking her head at the overly hyper werewolf girl.

"Okay please release my girlfriend from you're overly affectionate ass" Yoko jokingly demanded trying to pry Enid's arms off a currently suffocated Divina.

"Jealous?" Enid turned her head, not letting go out of pure spite and giggling lightly.

"No" she scoffed "buuuuut she might be" Yoko pointed behind Enid at the small shadowy figure that glided toward them.

"Wednesday you came!" She ran excitedly towards her as she usually did but stopped before she was unable to control the urge to hug her lovingly.

"Of course Pup" She smirked, giving her a small nod to recognise her roommates restraint in not man handling her.

Yoko practically choked in shock "What did you just call her?!" Her vampire ears pricked up at the nickname.

Wednesday's eyes widened. She had been so distracted by Enid's violently happy approach and sickeningly sweet smile that she hadn't even realised that the other 2 girls could hear her.

Divina slapped her girlfriend and gave her a little disapproving look. "Ow! What?" She gritted her teeth at her girlfriend. Wednesday chose this distraction to divert the conversation, she had had one to many slip ups lately when it came to Enid and she needed to be more cautious and aware of her uncontrollable impulses she had recently acquired.

"I'm here Enid" she emphasised her name slightly, scolding herself in her own head at her blatant lack of resistance. Yoko smirked at this as Wednesday continued "What do you require of me?" She flicked her eyes to Yoko in order to observe whether the vampire was going to push the issue before returning to Enid's gaze.

"A smile" Yoko snorted again, earning another disapproving look from Divina as she crossed her arms.

"In your nightmares" Wednesday deadpanned and then let out a little noise as Enid grabbed her wrist and led her to the rest of the fair to give her a job to do.

"You need to cool it" Divina laughed as she watched Enid drag Wednesday to her worst nightmare. The two hung back for a minute to give their friends some alone time.

"With what?" She shrugged and rolled her eyes at the brunette. Of course everyone at Nevermore were rooting for Wednesday and Enid to finally admit thier feelings for one another, especially the entire friendship group. And lately Wednesday was being just as obvious as Enid was in her own little way. This wasn't the first time she had been caught by outsiders calling Enid by an affectionate nickname or allowing her to make physical contact with her person.

"You know what" She booped Yoko on the nose faking a mad face.

"Babe they are so clueless sometimes" Yoko threw her head back to the sky in annoyance "Like come ooooon" she mumbled "Remember last week!" She practically yelled remembering back

Flashback*

It was lunchtime and the usual lot were enjoying eachothers company, except Wednesday who just ignored the chaotic good around her.

Enid skipped towards the lunch table a bright smile on her face and once reaching her destination she leaned down and draped her arms over Wednesday's shoulder in a tame show of affection. She knew she shouldn't. Wednesday had talked to her about this ... Only ever in private but she was in such a good mood after her talk with Wednesday the night before that she didn't care.

"Hows my dark-spirited friend today?" She lightly teased. The word 'friend' causing a little comfort to wash over Wednesday. This was fine. This was normal. They were friends.

She took a small but deep breath in then looked up at Enid saying

"Very well Mon Chiot and You?" Very prepared to deal with the fallout of not scolding Enid for her casual show of affection.

"I'm great!" she bounced on her toes still giddy

"What the F-" Bianca accidentally spoke her thoughts aloud, mouth agape trying to make sense of what she had just witnessed, along with everyone else at the table.

Wednesday's ear pricked up at the low mumble from the siren and she smirked

"Problem?" She queried raising an eyebrow at the dumbfounded girl.

Bianca had to compose herself in order to deflect the stutter that reared its ugly head as she said "You-" she breathed rethinking her sentence ""She's touching you?" She questioned pointing at Enid and then scanning her eyes across to Divina, Yoko and Kent for support. They all kind of awkwardly tried not to get involved worried about what Wednesday would do. " And did you just call her a pet name?" She then looked towards Ajax, Xavier and Eugene instead but again they all followed suit and just nervously averted thier eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" Wednesday spoke plainly, ready to shoot down any attempt Bianca made at bringing attention to the earlier display.

"You're kidding you just-" she began but was rudely interrupted again by Wednesday.

"You must be hearing and seeing things Barclay" she spoke as if daring her to try again "How troubling" she feined concern.

"Yeah totally seeing things" Enid agreed before taking a life threatening risk by leaning down to plant small kiss on Wednesdays cheek casually before skipping off happily, leaving everyone at the table confused and unsure of how to handle the situation.

The Addams Girl was absolutely seething with rage for a spilt second as she felt everyone's eyes at the table on her awaiting her reaction. They were obviously expecting a somewhat graphic attempt a bodily harm or atleast some very violent words. Instead, the lingering feeling of Enid's soft lips drew out her loving and compassionate side because that feeling, THE feeling was incredible enough to block out her need to be perceived as threatening and unstable to those around her and she settled.

She was pulled from the abyss that was her thoughts of Enid when Bianca started to say "What?! She just-"

So rather than admit that what had happened was not a hallucination, she chose to further gaslight Bianca by saying "Honestly Bianca you should really see someone about that" only remaining at the table to insure none of her friends would have a chance to discuss what had just occured. Instead of making a swift dramatic exit she sat thee unbothered while the rest of the group exchanged suspicious looks

Present day*

"Yes I'm aware babe but we need to let them get there on their own" Divina chuckled pulling Yoko from her thoughts. The two girls had had plenty of conversations regarding Wednesday and Enid's complete obliviousness to each others pining. It always made them laugh how obvious it was that they loved one another and of course it made for an interesting bet between the queer ladies as well.

Yoko grinned mischievously, contemplating all the ways she could meddle in their affairs.She felt like it was the right time.

"On. Their. Own. Yoko." Divina chided knowing exactly what her devious girlfriend was thinking. Honestly she was almost as uncontrollable as Wednesday when it came to her impulses.

"Don't Yoko me" she grimaced at the use of her name rather than the reaffirming 'babe' she would usually receive.

"I will Yoko you if I wanna Yoko you" she placed her hand on her hip, pulling away from the vampire to tilt her head and challenge her.

The vampire just but her lip trying to tame the beast within "Fuck You" Yoko decided to say but couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her lips.

"Please do" Divina winked flirtatiously. She then granted the vampire a lingering kiss before moving towards their friends to help set up the fair.

Yoko just stared after her slightly stunned at the response before coming to her senses and trailing after her. "Hey Wait up!" She yelled still slightly drunk on Divina's touch.

[nellyofthevalley]

truths, ch.1

astarion x fem!tav rating: explicit

content: piv sex, fingering, biting/blood drinking, emotionally repressed losers who can't communicate, angst I guess

summary: this fic is mostly an excuse to write a bunch of dialogue bouncing around in my head. astarion is a sad little idiot who turns his fears into a self-fulfilling prophecy because he never learned how to love. it may or may not turn into a tragedy

“As I told you—you broke my cold, dead heart. Of course it was cruel,” Astarion says, melodramatic, hamming it up for her. He wants her to feel guilty for it; he wants her to stop being so tiring and play right into his hand. Make it easy for him.“I don’t believe you,” Tav says. “Everything you say sounds like a pretty lie, and you all but told me that’s what it is. Pretty lies. I’m not interested.”

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5 | ch.6 | ch.7 | ch.8

read it on ao3 or below the cut

Camping in the Underdark is unsettling, to say the least. The party hears noises in the distance, reminiscent of the howl of wolves or the songs of birds on the surface, but here, the sounds are warped and unrecognizable, and when they travel, they never meet the creatures that match the sound. Their party travels lighter with fewer bodies, having stricter lookout shifts with more on nighttime patrol. Tonight is Lae’zel and Shadowheart on shift, and Tav can imagine that’s going well. After all, it was only a few days ago they’d been at each others throats. 

At least they are speaking to one another—Astarion hasn’t talked to her for days. Not since she turned him down at the tieflings’ celebration at camp, back by the grove. It would be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s so obvious and awkward; he is clearly avoiding her, and she doesn’t know how to handle it. Avoid him? Act normal? What is normal anymore, anyway? 

She hadn’t meant to let him down so callously; how smug and fake he sounded finally got on her nerves. She didn’t expect him to seem so wounded by it. He was so good at putting on a fake face and fake words, so why was he surprised that she’d rejected him? What did he expect?

‘I’ve gotten on my back ten thousand times or more and forgotten half of them,’ he’d said after. ‘But you... you I’ll remember.’

The words linger in her mind like a parasite, fighting for space with her tadpole. It bothers her that she can’t let this go. Were they just more pretty words he spouted to get her in bed again, or something else? For a moment, it almost seemed like his facade had cracked when he said it. For all she knows, that could've been a performance as well. 

This evening, Tav finds herself in Halsin’s company while she works at her braids, discussing the road ahead. It won’t be long before they’re met with the shadow-cursed lands, and out of them all, Halsin knows the most. He recounts his studies on the curse and tadpole, eager to head off to their next destination despite the danger. Halsin clearly feels a certain responsibility to the cursed lands, though he’s also struggling with leaving the grove behind. 

“They’ll be fine without you—they’re tough,” Tav offers, doing her best to provide some kind of comfort. “You’ll be missed, I’m sure. I’m glad you’re with us, we’re lucky to have you.”

“I remain optimistic that Francesca will strive in my old position. Still, it is difficult to leave my home behind,” he says. “I’m afraid the city will be an even harder adjustment for me. The busy streets and crowds are a far cry from the comforts of nature.”

“There, there, Halsin,” Gale chimes in, joining the group by the campfire. “You might be pleasantly surprised. I admit, the city park has nothing on your lovely grove, but, well. You share the pursuit of knowledge, I assume? Baldur’s Gate is home to many wonderful things—the best of which being an extraordinary bookstore known as Sorcerous Sundries.”

Gale likes to hear Gale talk, so Tav backs off and lets him engage with Halsin in her stead. Her attention turns toward the campfire on this particularly cold night, stretching her arms and hands out in front of her, taking in the warmth it provides. Her own tent is dull and cold, so she can find sleep only once the boys have talked all they can talk and finally leave, allowing her the silence needed to rest.

Tav glances over at Astarion’s tent, and unsurprisingly, he’s nowhere to be found. Likely off hunting, she thinks. Ever since the party and their strange little silent treatment pact started, he’s been getting his fill elsewhere. She used to provide for him—to help him be ‘stronger, fight better,’ as he’d argued. Now, things were too tense to invite him back. 

She finds herself wondering if he’s chasing animals or people. It’s none of her business who he feeds from, but she can’t deny the slight twinge of jealousy eating at her, at the thought of him having his needs met from another ‘thinking’ creature. 

‘Truth be told, you were my first,’ he’d said. Tav felt shame as her cheeks flushed. His first. Something about that sounded so… personal.

Her attention snaps back to the present, settling into the bed roll by the fire, watching the flames frolic. As her eyes start to drift away, the need for sleep washing over her, the sounds of the wilderness become duller, drowned out. She didn’t realize how tired she was, how exhausting this day had been. Her muscles relax, sight fades, and thoughts morph into concepts as she drifts away to the warm comfort of sleep. 

Tav wakes in a sweat. Her skin feels like it’s melting, like she’s being boiled alive; her hands rush to her face, and when she touches herself, the skin oozes off her bones, flowing down her fingers and arms. She tries to scream, and nothing comes out, her mouth a gooey mess dripping onto the ground beneath her.

She tries to stand and flee, but her ankles are already turning into liquid fire. Her body lowers, slowly liquifying into the ground below. She’s helpless, a lost cause; an existence destined to fade away and be lost forever. A voice—her voice—tells her so, tells her ‘give up’.

Tav wakes again, this time with an audible scream. She instinctively jumps out of bed, rising to her knees; hands rush to touch her face again, relief and surprise coursing through her body as she realizes she’s still there. All of her, in one piece; not melting away as her dreams try to convince her. 

She sits upright and tears flow from her eyes, frustrated—these dreams keep happening to her, and she doesn’t understand it. The campfire is all except gone, hardly any flame or heat remains. 

“Tav!” Shadowheart calls to her, running and kneeling beside her. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine, I think,” she gets out, looking over her fingers and feet again, as if she has to remind herself they’re still there, still real. “Just… having nightmares.”

“Chk. If a dream bothers you that much, I question your sanity,” Lae’zel comments in her typical, apathetic tone, approaching the duo. “Soon you may develop a fever, grow tentacles, become ghaik at last—the moment you do, I’ll be ready to strike.”

Tav rolls her eyes, prodding at the campfire, hoping to reignite the tiny flame. Despite her dream, the air is cold, and her bedroll isn’t enough. Shadowheart and Lae’zel head off in separate directions to resume their patrol, and Tav catches Shadowheart glancing back at her on their way out. She seems genuinely concerned for Tav, and it’s nice to know someone does. The others are either sleeping peacefully in their tents or pretending to. Tav wishes it’s the former, hating to make a scene. 

The campfire crackles again, a little flame rising from the wood. It’s a much needed comfort, though not enough to relax and find sleep again. Tav lays on her bedroll, looking up at nothing besides a dark abyss and the faint glow of mushrooms growing far above. 

“Well, didn’t you cause quite the scare?” says a familiar voice—Astarion.

Tav jumps in surprise, leaning up onto her elbows to see him walking over from his tent. The last person she expected to see tonight. 

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” she replies, a bit more haughty than intended. 

Knowing sleep will escape her for some time, she concedes and rises from the bedroll to sit on the log bench by the fire. It’s a silent invitation, how she leaves room for Astarion to join, and he accepts. The atmosphere is quiet, save for a few indescribable sounds in the distance, the very same type they’d learned to accept in the Underdark. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Tav says, willing to make the first move. 

“Darling, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me,” he answers, and it prompts Tav to realize he might be right; maybe it was all in her head and she played a one-sided game. “Tell me about your dreams.”

“What? Why?”

“Can’t I simply wonder what troubles you at night? Our ‘fearless leader’, who shows no weaknesses—yet you wake with a scream, and you weep because of it,” he says, revealing he’s been listening to it all. “Call me worried if it makes you feel better about it.”

“Are you worried about me?” Tav asks, staring daggers at him, challenging him to take off his mask. 

“Possibly,” Astarion answers with a dramatic shrug. “Or maybe I’m curious and you owe me. I told you plenty of my past, of my nightmares, and then you kept your secrets and so cruelly denied me your company. I think you can spare me a sentence or two, dear.”

She can’t tell how much of this is an act and how much isn’t. He’s putting on his usual theatrics, his dramatic tone and way of storytelling, but it’s hard to see beyond it this time. She’s certain he wants to know; she’s not certain if it’s because he’s worried. Or if he is serious about perceiving her rejection as cruel. 

“There’s not much to tell,” Tav offers, now looking away, down to her fingers and the soil beneath her feet. “Tonight, I dreamt my skin was melting off—that’s it. Sometimes, I dream that I’m drowning. Stupid, right? It’s different from other dreams I’ve had. Feels more… real. I feel the pain as my skin turns into lava, I feel my lungs fill with water. Harder to acclimate to reality when I wake.”

She pauses to let him comment, and he says nothing. He’s not even looking at her anymore. He’s staring at the ground too, like they’re looking at the same thing. There’s nothing there besides the dirt and weeds. 

“Did you really think I was cruel?”

“As I told you—you broke my cold, dead heart. Of course it was cruel,” Astarion says, melodramatic, hamming it up for her. He wants her to feel guilty for it; he wants her to stop being so tiring and play right into his hand. Make it easy for him. 

“I don’t believe you,” Tav says. “Everything you say sounds like a pretty lie, and you all but told me that’s what it is. Pretty lies. I’m not interested.”

“It’s not all pretty lies,” he rebukes, almost sounding like he’s taking offense to her skepticism. It’s frustration that he has to work so much harder with her.  “Some of them are ugly, others are pretty truths.”

“Oh? Enlighten me, what truths have you told?”

“That I miss petty vanity,” Astarion answers, keeping it simple; refusing to give more, what she wants him to give. “How it’s hard not to have fun with you.” That one is merely a consolation prize. 

“Is that all?” Tav asks, wondering if ‘fun’ he means that he enjoys himself with her, or if it’s how he so evidently enjoys messing with her. Toying with her emotions.

“For tonight, yes. That’s all you get. You can continue guessing at the rest.”

Astarion meets her gaze now, giving her those sad, red eyes. It might be an act, it might not be—he doesn’t even know himself. It reminds her of the look he wore when she turned him down, and she questions whether that was an act as she’d initially thought. He finds himself entranced by how the orange light from the flames bounce off her pale lavender skin.

He leans into her, watching to see if she recoils or pushes him away. Instead, she keeps staring at him, wide-eyed, and he senses her heart pace a little faster. She smells faintly like blueberries. He can’t resist moving in closer, nose nearly touching her neck and taking in her scent, thinking of how he’ll never get to taste them again; he’ll have to settle for the aroma.

Tav is convinced he’s going to bite her, and she knows she should stop him, but she doesn’t. She braces, waiting for it, and it doesn’t come. Astarion pulls away, and before he can decide where to go from here, she’s taking the initiative and pressing her lips to his. 

His hand instinctively raises to cup her face, deepening the kiss, pushing his mouth to hers like he wants to bruise her. It’s not him, he thinks; it’s something else, something he can’t control.  His tongue seeks entry and she doesn’t deny it, parting her lips with a little sound that he swears makes his stopped heart start again, for only a second. 

When he turns to unbutton her night shirt, movements methodical and practiced, she stops him and pulls away. 

“You don’t want this?” he asks. 

“I do,” she says, that defeated look in her eyes that he can’t tolerate. “Not like this.”

It unnerves him that he knows exactly what she means. How she saw right through him, how she could so easily read his hand movements, experienced and suave; understood another way. How he can’t even bring himself to deny it. She really isn’t like his other conquests. She is special.

She is difficult. 

Astarion moves to leave, to go think about this, or at least think about how to avoid thinking about it, but she grabs his wrist to stop him. He looks back at her, astonished by her audacity, her ability to bother him so.

‘Stay?’ her face asks, and he doesn’t know how to say no or yes. He just sits right back where he was, mind swimming; though not a single one of the swimmers composes a coherent, tangible thought. 

“Darling, you’re freezing,” he observes, picking up on the goose flesh spreading across her arms, and shakes so small, Tav hasn’t even noticed them. The campfire burns away; somehow it’s still not enough to warm her.

“I suppose I am,” she says. “I’d better get used to it. I find it difficult to believe that our journey will be getting much more comfortable anytime soon.”

Astarion sheds his coat, placing it around her shoulders, wondering what he’s fucking doing the entire time.

“It’s always cold for me,” he offers, like he has to justify himself, “and you wear it better.”

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Hey theitsa! I’m a second gen Greek-American and unfortunately a lot of my family is pretty racist. The reason why I bring this up is because they use a certain word for black people that, because of their ideology, I can’t trust is a respectful term. While I doubt it will come up in regular conversation, I’ve seen mostly debates about Ancient Greek terminology for black people and not modern Greek besides a quora post. Do you have any insight on this vocabulary issue? Ευχ��ριστώ θείτσα!

Hello there! The issue is not too clear in Greek either because the Black community in Greece is very small and also diverse. Looks like the most used and accepted term is "Afrogreek" but I've heard some call themselves Black ("Μαύρος") online and in a discussion by the Anassa institute.

"Afrogreek" is more prevalent because most Black people here atm are 1st, 2nd, 3rd gen immigrants from various African countries. Of course not all Black people identify as Africans so it's best to ask each individual what they're comfortable with.

In the TedEx below, Idra identifies as "Αφροελληνίδα" early on and few seconds afterwards as "μία Μαύρη γυναίκα". (Idk if "Μαύρη" should be capitalised but for now I'll keep it like they do in English)

Greek language doesn't feel too comfortable colouring people linguistically, especially since a few decades ago "Μαύρος" was used in the offensive call "ο Μαύρος" for Black people. (And still today) "Μαύρος άντρας/Μαύρη γυναίκα" are okay because "Μαύρος" in this is an adjective that describes the person. While in the offensive scenario the person is assumed to be their colour. In a similar fashion it's more polite to say "ο κοντός άντρας" instead of "Ο Κοντός".

In Greece people might not be too familiar with color terms for people but there's a need for the terms "Λευκός" and "Μαύρος" to exist in order for anti-racist discussions to take place.

The two words I mentioned (Μαύρος and Afrogreek) are the appropriate ones and - afaik - other terms are not acceptable. "Έγχρωμος" , the translation of "person of color" is not acceptable and it also doesn't make sense linguistically for us, as Indra also notes in the video.

Now, just in case you want to know about a specific word, I'd say go ahead and ask by writing the word. (In ask or in a DM) You don't have to do it, I'm just saying. This will be for educational purposes only cause there are quite a few bad words around and I cannot imagine what your family uses. And we cannot know the proper context of words, and if they can or cannot be used, if we never ask about them. As long as we don't endorse slurs and don't use them to characterise people, it is okay to identify them and learn why they're wrong so the next time we hear them we can also explain to others why their use should be avoided.

Check my tag #afrogreeks for more! Searching "Afrogreek" on YouTube also gives some very interesting videos.

Anyone who knows more feel free to chime in!