#fic: Under The Bed

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

themthemthemthemthemthemthem-

[eyesxxyou]

❝ monster under the bed ❞ (hobie x black ftm trans!reader

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. monsterfucking. kinda dub-con. usage of shadow tentacles. reader is ftm trans. hobie calls you a good boy. mating press. mentions of somnophilia. hobie's a little bit of a creep. reader calls hobie "freak", "creature", and "it".

You’ve been staring at your closet for an hour now, terrified out of your feeble, little mind with a knife in your trembling hand. Tears glazed over your eyes, your bottom lip quivering with untold fear. You’re too scared to get off your bed, scared that he might be under there as well, might grab your ankle and drag you under. What things it would do to you.

You never before believed in monsters, not since you were a child and used to have your parents check every night before you went to bed to assure you that there was no monster waiting to come from under your end and eat you whole. Oh if only they could see you now. A paranoid mess on the verge of tears in your own home. You still closed your closet door at night and jumped into bed simply out of habit, not because you were scared, not until recently.

It started with the slight caresses of your limbs whenever they lie outside the confines of your bed, like cool fingers touching and grasping your ankles and wrists until you ripped away, yanked your limbs back onto your bed with a startled gasp. Tender touches against your thighs and hips as you change beside your closet door left slightly ajar. The door opened on its own in the middle of the night, you witnessed it with your own eyes. The knob twisted as if someone on the inside had grabbed and turned it but when you checked, there was nothing.

There was the pair of glowing eyes you swore you saw when you looked under your bed for something you had dropped beneath it. It receded into the darkness quickly, so swiftly you thought you might have been imagining things. But it terrified you nonetheless. 

Then there was the figure standing at the foot of your bed. It was dark. An amalgamation of shadows that held nothing but the obvious outline of a very tall man standing there, watching with those glowing gold eyes you had seen before. You had screamed, turned on the light, and he was gone. You thought you were losing it. Were you losing it? What was happening to you?

You always kept a knife close. You were a trans man living alone, it was for your protection. Who knows what sick bastard would follow you home and try to break in. You had grabbed it with a swiftness you never knew you were capable of and went about your house, searching, clearing every room until you were sure no one was in your home. You slept with the lights on that night.

But he was back, the figure. You saw it, saw its hand reach out from your closet, and another one reach out from under your bed. You grabbed your knife again, both hands wrapped around the hilt to stop your hand from shaking. “Whoever you are, come out! I’m not scared of you!” But your voice trembled and revealed your fear. “I have a weapon and I’m not afraid to use it.”

There was silence, silence so still you could hear your erratic breathing. Your gaze flickered between the foot of your bed and the closet, eyes well enough adjusted to the dark to see if anything came from either. 

It was the foot of your bed where it came from. A shadowy hand reached out, seemingly coming from under your bed, and grabbed your sheets for leverage as it dragged itself up slowly. The thing, the creature, was nothing but a blob of darkness at first but slowly gained more form and shape as it rose to its staggering height. You watched with wide eyes and parted lips that let shivering breaths escape you.

It chuckled, it laughed at you. Slowly you began to see a smile take shape in there as its face formed from nothing but black smoke. If you weren’t terrified out of your mind, you would have thought him the most gorgeous person – thing – you’ve ever seen. With wild black hair, dark skin, even darker lips, piercings that glint under the fading moonlight.

Something about the inhuman human made you all the more scared for your life. You scrambled back, to the very top of your bed as he began to walk around the side toward you, your knife pointed at him the entire way. “S-stay back!” You sputtered out, breathless and terrified. It did not deter him.

“Ya know how long ‘ve wai’ed f’this moment, lil birdy?” The baritone of his voice felt familiar, everything about him felt so familiar, as if you’ve known him this entire time. He’s been here for years, watching, listening, waiting for the right moment to reveal himself to you. All the touches, then breezes, the caresses of your frame. All of it was him, just wanting to make himself known.

You saw a shadow slither around the blade of your knife and yank it from your hands, tossing it to the floor with a metallic clatter. Your only defense against this intruder gone in the blink of an eye.“‘M no’ gonna hurt’cha, dove.” He reached out for you. cool fingers stroking the round of your cheek. You shiver, looking up at him as you made a motion to pull away. “No,” he mutters, “jus’ relax.”

“What– what the hell are you? Who are you? Why are you in my house?”

There was a lit in the man-like creature’s voice as he smirked and spoke. “Jus’ call me Hobie.” He avoided the other questions as if you hadn’t even asked them. His fingers grasped your chin when you looked away from him and towards your door, forced your eyes upon him once more. Hobie tsked at you, clicking his tongue as he shook his head with a slow sort of disappointment. “Don’ even think ‘bout i’, dove. Why ya tryna run from me? Ya know me.”

You know him? You don’t know him. Your brows pinch with confusion as you shake your head. “I don’t-”

“Ya do, birdy. Ya know me.” He sits on the edge of your bed beside you, his fingers still grasping you. ”Ya think all those nasty lil dreams you’ve been havin’ since ya moved here were jus’ ya imagination?” Hobie’s thumb comes to rest against your bottom lip, swiping from left to right, right to left, his hazelnut eyes glowing softly as he looks at your lips. “Ya body knows me a’ least.”

You don’t know why you’re not ripping away from him, why your fear has settled. 

“Open.” His voice is gentle yet demanding and without thought, your lips part as if it were waiting for a command all this time. A smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as he eased his thumb onto your warm tongue, pressing down just a bit to keep you from talking. “See, ya know me, dovey. Don’ pretend like ya don’. Yer always such a good boy f’me.”

It was like he was sedating you, forcibly calming you when you knew you should be biting his thumb off. Was this freak touching you at night while you slept? Did he watch you when you touched yourself after wet dreams that left you wet and sticky. Wet dreams he had caused? Your body shivered with the thought and you weren’t sure if it was from disgust or something far more horrifying. A shiver of pleasure.

You felt something cool slither up along the inner part of your thigh. As you glanced down, you saw a shadow slipping beneath the pair of boxers you wear to bed. It slid across the axis of where your pelvis met your thighs and caressed your warm, soft lips. It slid between your pussy lips, breaking off into two separate appendages. One for your clit and one for your pretty, little hole that’s been left neglected by you for quite some time now.

Hobie pulled his thumb from your mouth and leaned in to push his lips onto yours. They were cold against your warm ones, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You didn’t know what to do except accept. Your mind told you to stop, that this wasn’t right. You have no idea what this thing was but your body, aching, didn’t seem to care.

Hesitantly, you parted your lips for him. Hobie hummed with satisfaction, a smile easing onto his lips. “There ya go. There’s ma favorite boy.” His tongue overtook yours, stroking with a precision you weren’t sure you ever felt from another lover. His kiss was wet, sloppy, filled with soft, breathless moans from your hot mouth as his appendages work away at your cunt.

You let out something of a low groan when one of the shadows pushed into your slick hole. It was thick and full and offered you no kindness as it thrusted into you inch by inch until you were filled to the brim with it. The coolness of it made you shiver violently against Hobie, who’s hands parted your legs to give his shadows enough space to do as he pleased them to.

“Ya remember this?” He crooned at you, his fingers gripping your thighs, his claws digging into flesh yet not enough to puncture, just enough to cause the slightest bit of pain to mingle with the fact that his shadows were playing with your engorged clit, sliding beneath the hood to get to the sweet spot. “I did this to ya las’ week. Ya woke up before I couldn't finish ya off.”

The other stuffed you full, stroked every one of your ridges and sweet spots until you were gasping for air. “Ngh~ please! Oh my God!” It pushed in and out of you, so hard you felt your entire body rock and shudder. “S-slow down mmh~” you could feel the thing circle your cervix, kissing it so softly with the languid tip.

“I know ya can take i’, lil bird.” He shifted his grip on your legs and moved his hands beneath your thighs to press them against your chest. Your boxers were pulled out of the way with another shadow to expose your puffy cunt plugged up with a dark appendage, the other lavishing over your firm clit. “Jus’ take i’.” 

His lips are on yours again, firm and cool, tongue claiming your mouth until drool began to seep from the corners where your lips were sealed. Hobie smiled into your kiss, your body writing beneath his hold. Your eyes are half-closed and fucked out, your body thrashing with something far more otherworldly than just pleasure.

You couldn't understand why you were letting this happen. What the hell was he doing to you? Or was this truly just your body falling into what it already knows. Him. It. This thing and his shadows. He kissed you more passionately than any man has and was fucking you better than you could imagine.

The sound of it was filthy. The soft squelch of his shadow forcing its way in and out of you permeated the room and mingled with your muffled moans against his impassioned kiss. He’s been waiting for this for so long and he’ll be damned if he didn't revel in the satisfaction of having you all bent out of shape for him. He could feel you through his shadow, your tightness, your desperation, the pull of your soft, wanton cunt.

“Do ya know what torture feels like?” Hobie asks and you’re tempted to say yes with the way his shadow lapped at your swollen clit and filled your cunt to the brim, stretching and molding to your every dip, curve, and ridge until no spot was left untouched. It filled you perfectly, so perfect you could weep with pleasure.

“Torture is havin’ to watch ma lil dove touch himself and I can' do a damn thing about i’ ‘cause I don' wanna scare ‘im.” You let out another broken moan while the shadows seem to work in unison, his large hands pressing your thighs harder to your chest, opening you up a little more to make more room for him to stuff your cunt a little more.

You’re open and exposed, shamelessly so. The darkness allows for all the things you would have shunned in the light. Something was dripping from your pussy, down the round of your ass, maybe your wetness oozing, being pushed out by his shadow.

Hobie chuckled softly while watching your eyes roll and your saliva-wet lips fall open. “I don't scare ya, lil dovey, do I?”

You wanted to say yes, that he terrified the hell out of you but as you opened your mouth, all you could do was let out something of a whiny, needy, little moan. “Please.” That’s all you could muster, the shudder of an orgasm beginning to make itself known in the pit of your belly.

You couldn't handle it. It was simply so intense, so demanding of you all your energy. “I can't-”

“Ya can,” Hobie insisted. “Lemme taste ya cum. I need i’. Lemme take wha’ I need, then I’ll go f’the nigh’.” He glanced out the window to find the sky growing lighter; the dark was being pushed away by dawn. It wouldn't be long until the sun crested over the horizon and he’d have to go back into hiding beneath your bed where he'd wait patiently for you to climb back into your bed, maybe touch yourself a bit, get yourself ready for his assault on your body the next night.

Your body rolled, thrashed, quivered with the beginnings of your climax. The walls of your pussy clamped and pulsed and Hobie let out a heavy breath. He could feel you, his shadow coaxing out your pretty moans as it stroked your gummy walls and kissed at your cervix oh so gently. 

Your mind felt fuzzy. Your vision went in and out of focus. Your hands gripped at your sheets before relaxing all together. You shuddered with the aftershock, breath labored and hitching with every exhale. 

Hobie released you and your legs fell onto your bed as his shadows receded back into the darkness as if they had never been there in the first place but the slick, sticky cum against your thighs and underwear left proof of their presence.

“I wish I could stay a lil longa, birdy, get one more outta ya, but I gotta go.” He pressed his lips to yours, a kiss not reciprocated. You were too tired, too fucked out. You couldn’t imagine having to undergo a second one, you couldn’t believe you had let him drag even a single one out of you. 

Hobie turned to whisper in your ear, his hand stroking your thigh tenderly. “I’ll see you tonight, dove.” He stood up, glancing at the window just as the sun was beginning to rise just over the treeline. He began to lose his form and became nothing more than a shadow creature once more, melting away into an amorphous blob before slithering back beneath your bed. 

You scrambled up, chest heaving as you leaped from your bed and dropped down to your hands and knees to look for him beneath your bed frame. There was nothing, just the other side of your room, you could see straight through. You swallowed nervously and lied on the cool hardwood of your floor.

Your mind was empty, wiped completely blank by your orgasm. There was a single thought on your mind, just one. What the fuck just happened?

There was a monster that lives under your bed it had fucked you so good you might never recover from it.

[bonebrokebuddy]

“I don’t understand why you’re so adamant on asking me this, Hal. I just mentioned to Barry that I talked with the head Easter Bunny once and now everyone keeps asking me if I think the Easter Bunny is real! Why do people keep asking me? I’ve met them. I don’t understand why I have to ‘believe’ in the Easter Bunny for them to be real! They exist!”

Hal put his hands up and stepped back, clearly not expecting the frustrated and somewhat hostile response of Billy who slumped back into his seat, which was slightly less satisfying in his bulkier body, and began running his hands through his hair.

The repetition of being interrogated over a simple comment was not only bewildering but had gotten increasingly more annoying to answer as somehow the members of The Justice League, the literal most powerful group of people on earth, didn’t seem to understand a piece of basic knowledge.

Billy was not only very tired of being asked the same thing but even more-so he wanted the laughing at his ordinary response to stop.

He paused and looked Hal dead in the eyes then began to speak in the most dead tone Hal had ever heard from the usually cheerful man.

“Hal, I know the Easter Bunnies are real because I had to spend two, very long weeks personally overseeing the creation of their union that made sure they no longer routinely experience unsafe working conditions and helped establish 8 hour working days so they no longer get overworked or are required to do 80 hour weeks prepping for Easter and get punished for doing less or don’t get paid”,

Billy’s previously slow, blank tone grew more rushed and frustrated as he went on,

“I mean, I didn’t even do much other than sit there and look intimidating by throwing around lightning sometimes and make sure the Easter chicks didn’t do any funny business or tamper with the legal process!

It was in all the papers in Fawcett! I had my picture taken with them and everything. But Hal. I can guarantee you that the Easter Bunny exists. Please. Please stop fucking asking me.” Finally done, Billy slumped onto the table with a loud clunk.

Hal stood there shocked for a moment. “Marvel, did you just imply there’s multiple easter bunnies and they established a form of government?!”

Billy, with seemingly tremendous emotional effort, lifted his head from the table by a few inches and looked Hal in the eyes with a pleading tone, “If I just say no, will you please stop asking me?”

“Absolutely not, now I have even more questions”

Billy let his head fall back onto the table with an even louder clunk and groaned.

[obstinaterixatrix]

Do u know any good mob psycho 100 fanfics?? Or authors??

well obviously my sister but I’m guessing you’re the same anon so 1) you already know her fics 2) you want different recs from what’s on her list (some of them being fics I rec’d to her lol). recs will skew heavily seri/rei and I’m just going through my bookmarks so it’s gonna be most recently read to oldest read. also seconding sister’s recs of bobmoss and crookedturtle. but I’ll add a fic from each anyway because I already wrote something for one while I was drafting this (oops)

Recollection by CowardlyBean

This is the journal of missing 31 year old Reigen Arataka, distributed with permission from friends and family. The version presented in this document has been kindly edited with added commentary by a loyal customer of his. -Editor’s Note

gen, experimental and in progress at 14k so definitely deserves more love than it’s getting. inspired by house of leaves; as the summary says, it’s some rando writing annotations about reigen’s journal, but Something Weird Is Going On. the 4th chapter updated so I actually need to catch up. also, sister rec’d this fic to me

Like Acid Reflux, or Love by partingxshot

Dating Reigen is like dating a single dad—only with more children, weirder scruples, and an extreme ruthlessness vis-à-vis group takoyaki discounts. He's not hot enough for this.

OR: "Me, You and Steve" by Garfunkel and Oates but with fifteen million teenagers.

OR: Outsider POV exploring Reigen’s dedication to his gaggle of bizarre children through an ill-fated dating attempt.

OR: Serizawa gets bruxism.

gen(/pre-relationship seri/rei), oneshot, 7k. oc/reigen breakup lmao. extremely funny concept, extremely good execution

Dream Dial by Alakazamboni

For the better part of nine years, Arataka has proudly worked in customer service at a behemoth of a company. At least, that's what he remembers, but a strange illness and a mysterious caller keeps trying to convince him otherwise. It doesn't help that this caller has the power to distort reality.

seri/rei, in progress, 16k. great uncanny atmosphere, and also reigen is trapped in time prison as a miserable office worker. hasn’t been updated for a while but read it anyway, the stoping point is fine

What We Make by crookedturtle

Reigen and Tome are kidnapped from the Spirits and Such office to be used as leverage against Mob. They have two goals: to contact the outside world, and keep each other safe. In doing so they engage in a dangerous game of lies and manipulation with their captors—a game with potentially deadly consequences.

gen (bg seri/rei), complete, 36k. Good for whump and high stakes interpersonal maneuvering & drama. I liked how the story extends beyond rescue and goes into how everyone navigates the fallout

Man's Best Friend by bobmoss

A cursed dog gets left at Spirits and Such. Anyone who pets it is doomed to die a horrible death.

Reigen, of course, pets it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. funny and cute and sweet :) there’s a very charming tentative & tender vibe

heart line by ruthwrites

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

seri/rei, oneshot, 6k. getting together fluff, a fun light read that also highlights serizawa’s insecurities—the internal narration has good character voice

If you won't believe me when I say it, believe me when I don't by deathdefied

Two years after Reigen invited Serizawa to work for him, he still can't quite categorize his feelings for his coworker. Instead of actually dealing with those feelings like an adult and talking to his friend, he decided to get really paranoid and overthink everything Serizawa does.

seri/rei, complete, 26k. reigen drives himself nuts lmao

Obvious by skeilig

Tome’s perspective on Reigen and Serizawa’s developing relationship.

gen (but about seri/rei), oneshot, 3k. I like outsider perspective getting together fics, especially when the perspective character is like ‘I’m actually not invested in this except when it affects me directly’

Cover Me by flecksofpoppy

Reigen’s shadow seems longer as the days move forward, more solitary. The cuts on his face heal and the ache in his bones go away, but a new sting replaces it. It’s loneliness, the thing he had managed to avoid ever since a primary school-aged kid who could make cups float stumbled into his office so many years ago.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. getting together fic that shows off a little of reigen’s gloomier side, it’s cute

loved you just a little too much by shcherbatskayas

You learn how to let go.

(It doesn't come naturally.)

gen(ish), oneshot, 2k. 2nd person character study of serizawa’s relationship with touichiro, I liked the ambivalence; effectively captures development over time with a relatively short wordcount.

offering genuine help with genuine results by suitablyskippy

“The curse was pretty clear on me not telling lies,” concedes Reigen. “It was pretty clear on me telling the truth. But,” as he lifts one finger, already sliding into the same educational tone he generally uses for imparting wisdom to Mob about life and love and the overall holistic benefits of making sure he’s always available for unexpected overtime work on weekends, “telling the truth isn’t necessarily the same as being honest, is it?”

“You’re the professional liar,” says Dimple. “You tell me.”

(Being cursed to only tell the truth and being cursed with Dimple as an employee are pretty much equally bad, as far as Reigen's stress levels are concerned.)

gen, oneshot, 2k. the tags include friends with no benefits whatsoever, which is very apt. Very funny to have reigen and dimple be petty and shady

a slightly more miraculous miracle by suitablyskippy

“Rumour has it that something impossible’s happened. Something that could never have happened. That shouldn’t have been able to happen.” In a single slick move Mezato produces a tiny voice recorder from an inside pocket, flips it open and active, and holds it up before Mob’s mouth to ask him, in a tone of devastating intensity: “Do you know anything about… a miracle, Mob-kun?”

Mob doesn’t hesitate. “We had maths homework to hand in,” he says. “But now we don’t have to. We don’t even have to go to the lesson.”

(The sun is shining, the birds are singing, Salt Middle School has been closed by an unexplained miracle, and the only thing wrong in Spice City is the fact that nothing is even slightly wrong at all.)

teru/mob, incomplete, 55k. for the most part I haven’t been repeating authors on this list, but listen. listen to me. I need you to listen. it is extremely unlikely for this fic to ever be completed. but hark, lest this sad probability turn you away and leave you dispassionately scrolling to the next fic, I need you (you specifically) to know that if I were in the same room as you, I would be wrestling the phone/mouse/trackpad/touchscreen/etc from your hands and furiously clicking the link. when I bookmarked this fic in 2017 I described it as having “some breathtakingly sensical prose and the funniest misunderstandings I’ve ever read”. trust me from seven years ago. open your heart.

skylight by inexhaustible

unconnected snapshots in what might, in some worlds, be something a little like recovery.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. character study that nails the tension of an escalating romantic atmosphere.

come on, come on, come over (take it off your shoulder) by mortarsmayfall

Reigen's free hand cradles Serizawa's head, curled under his ear just so to turn it for a better angle. He feels his pulse pound under Reigen's fingers, shivers just the slightest bit. If Reigen notices, he doesn't say anything about it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. when I first read this I saved it as a private bookmark because I was so embarrassed by the sheer intimacy of haircuts with severely unresolved sexual tension. I’m guessing this was written after studio bones gave us reigen cutting serizawa’s hair. crumbs no more; for once we had a feast to enjoy. short & sweet getting together fic

Off-White by reigreitz

Some habits are tells.

seri/rei, oneshot, 1k. snapshots of pre-relationship and established relationship scenes, I’m quite fond of it. on my first reading I’m pretty sure I remember not paying attention to the habit piece at all (even with it being right in the summary) so at the last scene I was hit by the double whammy of ‘oh so that was what serizawa was reacting to’ and ‘AW… THAT’S SWEET…’; I think the fic does a great job of hiding/not acknowledging certain things the perspective character knows and is reacting to, which makes it fun to reread and pinpoint what exactly serizawa’s previously more opaque train of thought was. like, it’s the same stuff, but you get to read into more nuance.

the seven stages of falling in love by reigen arataka by matsunoble

You suppose one of the weirdest times to realize you've fallen deeply and irrevocably in love is when it's fuck o'clock in the morning and you're blearily checking your fridge for leftover curry.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. I was quite taken by the mundane (and sometimes unappealing) descriptions of love, and I like when serizawa has the upper hand

Mr. Psychic by beefstatic

Looks like trouble in Spice City...

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. Serizawa Acts Like An Intimidating Bodyguard During Tense/Shady Situations. fun emphasis on that potential aspect of his character, I like how it’s done.

Late by hamlingo

For the first few days after hiring Serizawa, Reigen couldn’t help but be alarmed when the door opened at eight o’clock sharp in the mornings. He got used to it eventually, and in a month’s time he was more surprised when the door didn’t creak open right on time.

This was one of those mornings.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. this is actually among the first seri/rei fics I bookmarked so I can say with relative certainty that on may 20th 2017 I decided that maybe seri/rei was not just a joke of me indulging my own spurious unreasonable whims. fun character study and has that enjoyable tension of pleasant pre-relationship uncertainty.

Quiet Talks by krypkaktus

At some point, Reigen cutting his hair twice a month had turned into a mutual habit.

seri/rei, oneshot, 600 words. another charming snapshot of pre-relationship uncertainty, pleasantly embarrassing unresolved romantic tension.

walk in by ruthwrites

It was then he realized that the reason Reigen and Serizawa were standing so close was because they were kissing.

Mob was not really sure what to do with that information.

(or: mob leaves something at the office, comes back, and walks into something he wasn't supposed to)

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. an extremely popular fic for extremely valid reasons, this is a shining example of the outsider POV shipfic where the perspective character is like. I’m 14 and did not want to see you guys kissing. and the couple is like. we also did not want you to see us kissing, this is excruciatingly awkward.

tomorrow isn't always another day by suitablyskippy

It’s like Reigen’s been waiting for the question. He stops dead on the pavement, grips Mob by the shoulders, and stares down into his eyes with an expression as haunted as though every ghost the pair of them has ever exorcised has taken up residence behind it. “Mob,” he says. “Mob,” he says again. “Tell me, Mob. Look at me and tell me. Tell me truthfully. Do I look cursed to you?”

Mob looks at him, and tells him truthfully. “No.”

“Well, you didn’t look very long,” says Reigen. “Let’s just stand here for a moment, like so, and you can have another look, a nice long look, and really think about it...”

(There's nothing strange about being called back to exorcise the same haunted photocopier six days in a row. It must just be a very haunted photocopier.)

gen, oneshot, 18k. I didn’t mean to rec the same author three (3) times but this is also one of my top faves. extremely funny time prison where nobody is on the same page ever.

space voyage by Anonymous

Tome Kurata is slightly famous—or notorious, more like—for being... a weirdo, to put it simply. She's definitely a person of interest. Just not exactly in a newsworthy way, which is obviously the only way that matters.

mezato/tome, oneshot, 1k. charming pre-relationship contention, they’re the same type of self-absorbed and tunnel vision (affectionate)

I was thinking of not writing up recs for sister’s fics but since one author got three (3) fics on the list I’m gonna also put 3 of my fave fics of sister’s

Reigen's Comprehensive Fool-Proof Guide on How Not To Be Next Door Neighbors With Your Employee (because that'd just be creepy) by MalkyTop

Reigen hires Serizawa and they somehow end up as roommates.

seri/rei, complete, 17k. a fic sister wrote for ✨ME✨ that shows off reigen’s neuroticism and his decidedly not-normal attempts to come across as Extremely Normal, The Most Normal Man Alive. there are so many comedic setups and payoffs. there are so many shenanigans. reigen gets frog-boiled into romance. actually, I drop that term a lot but I’m not sure it’s a common enough to intuitively understand. it refers to the boiling frog metaphor

If At First You Don't Succeed, Find a Loophole by MalkyTop

Reigen keeps dying; Serizawa keeps trying to save him.

seri/rei, complete, 18k. sister was insane for this because she trapped all of her readers AND herself in time prison by releasing one chapter a day. it was really funny to witness because I was the only person not in time prison by virtue of editing privilege. while we were watching mondays: see you next week (an office time loop movie), sister was saying she was impressed at how effective/efficient the movie was at picking which scenes to repeat. this is to say, as someone who notices these details, sister was very intentional about when things changed and how things changed from the perspective of a character completely unaware of time prison. also, the emotional momentum is extremely good, I loved reading serizawa’s increasing desperation from reigen’s context-less perspective.

in absentia* by MalkyTop

After what was supposed to be a routine exorcism, Reigen wakes up in the wrong body.

serirei, complete, 26k. slowburn bodyswap with mystery and intrigue. a solid casefic! I can be biased and right. there are metanarrative elements that I find fun and that, in my opinion, highlights how sister did in fact get a degree in philosophy. there’s also some fun subtle and messy characterization notes, like when serizawa asks reigen not to cook for him. it’s hard to talk about what I like about this fic without giving away a lot of specifics, so go read it.

[yourfavepookiebear]

*loudly banging cooking pans together*

REQUESTS ARE OPEN POOKIES

ISTG POOKIES WHY IS MY INBOX EMPTY 👹

HUH ?? MAKE A REQUEST POOKIE BEAR IM IN UR CLOSET I KNOW YOU HAVE TIME FOR ME AND MY B.S SO HURRY UP IM GONNA FALL ASLEEP IN BOREDOM SMH

Also, don't check under your bed pookie 😘

[moonlight-warrior-1316]

Any fic recs?

*Slowly crawls out from under a train*

Hi! I'm not dead! School is trying to kill meh ;-;

I usually linger on Archive of our Own for fics, so here's a few I've enjoyed. I have more, but these are the most recent:

“The Mind is Not a Vessel to be Filled” by @aeroargonic

“Survivors” and “Blue Goes Boom” by @finn-m-corvex

“Caught in the Explosion” by HarpforHim

“Elemental Invitations” by FireFan

“We Are Survivors” by FireFan

“Invisible Physically, But Not Emotionally” and “What Goes Bump in the Night” by BlueBird_1323

“Stormbound” and “Everything I think I Know is just Static on the Radio” and “Let the Poison Bleed Out of Me” by @taddymason

A darker fic for you. Seriously, though, READ THE TAGS

“When You Think You’re All Alone” by @mondothebombo

And here’s a one that you HAVE TO READ THE TAGS on and be AT LEAST 18 to read because HOLY SHIT IT GETS DARK AND ONLY GETS WORSE AS THE BOOK GOES ON:

“Bending But Never Breaking” by @writing-hat

Also some of these authors are on Tumblr! Be sure to check them out!

Also Hi to the authors on here that have been tagged and don't know me. You guys are awesome and I love your writings!

Please show mercy I'm socially awkward

Hope you enjoy the stories!

[duskandcobalt]

wip wednesday 💕

i'd like to take a brief interlude from my depressive spiral to present a small excerpt from the slutty elriel fic i'm working on, still hoping to get this out this week but taylor swift put a pin in my plans and i've been wallowing in bed for like 96 straight hours.

no warnings here bc im saving the actual slutty content for the full published piece.

hope everyone's having a good week 💖

Elain blindly wandered down the dark hallways.The echo of her heels on the stone floor was menacing, causing the already frantic beat of her heart to rise to an almost worrisome crescendo. It didn’t help that she could barely see and was relying solely on the occasional flickering fae light and the cool, insistent shadow pressed to the small of her back to guide her towards her mystery destination.

It felt like she’d been walking for hours, turning this way and that in the labyrinth that made up the various chambers of this unfamiliar place but finally, the pressure of the shadow on her back eased as she approached an arched door right at the end of the seemingly never ending hallway. She paused in front of it, unsure what to do until the shadow slid up her arm and along her neck, wrapping itself around her ear. 

Go.

Elain swallowed, her gloved hand reaching out for the doorknob. 

Subconsciously, she knew where that shadow had been guiding her. Knew that the neat, dark interior of this room was the perfect match for what she’d always imagined in those salacious dreams of hers.

She’d been ready to see him. Aching to see him. But to open the door and get her first glimpse of him… she hadn’t quite been ready for that. 

Azriel was reclined in a leather chair behind his desk. The jacket he'd been wearing earlier had been discarded and left to drape on cabinet at the far end of the room. The first few buttons of his crisp white shirt was undone, providing a glimpse of the tantalising tattoos hidden underneath. He had one long leg folded over the over, one ankle resting on his knee. And on that knee, cradled by his large, scarred hand, sat a short glass of amber liquid that perfectly matched his honeyed eyes.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

[dipplinduo]

I WAS *POSSESSED*

WHOOPS.

DID CHAPTER 1 JUST COME OUT LITERALLY YESTERDAY? YEP.

DID I JUST WRITE CHAPTER 2?

YEP.

Lmao. Okay real talk though I wanted to get Chapter 17 of Sweet & Sour out as well, but I ran out of time today. Gonna be a little busy for a bit so I'm hoping to get it out by the end of the week! Hope you can enjoy this Drayton/Carmine fic update in the meantime. :) <3

[solo-ojo-jojo]

Chenford Fanfic: About Last Night

The Rookie Fanfiction | Chenford | One shot | 5K | Rated T | 5x01 Alternate Take | Sharing a Bed | Repressed feelings | Chenford Week '23

Story summary: Chenford, Vegas, and the one bed trope

In a world where their undercover op isn't interrupted, Lucy and Tim must find a way to share a bed one night in Las Vegas.

One day last November, my friend @heatherelf77 shared the following tweet, and it got my brain a'thinkin'.

My first thought was of a scene from the 1934 film It Happened One Night, when Clark Gable creates a room divider out of a blanket between his and Claudette Colbert's beds. I imagined Tim doing his own version of that for sharing a bed with Lucy, and it went from there.

Read an excerpt below, or jump on over to AO3 to read it now!

Lucy opened the bathroom door to find Tim arranging pillows on the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, amusement plain on her face and barely able to contain her laughter.

Tim paused and looked up at her. Why did he feel like she caught him doing something he shouldn’t?

“I’m creating a, uh–,” he gestured with his arm, moving it horizontally over the bed from head to toe and back again.

“A pillow wall?” she asked.

Tim looked sheepish under her gaze and shrugged one shoulder.

“Tim…” Lucy swallowed a grin, trying to maintain her professionalism “… do you really think that’s necessary?”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment over the thought of admitting out loud that he was worried about being able to resist his attraction to her—especially when she had already made it clear that she didn’t feel the same way.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I know that this wasn’t part of the plan.”

“It wasn’t. But I can keep my hands to myself if you can.”

Tim held his tongue. That was certainly a loaded subject, and one he had already given far too much thought to in the past 24 hours. He knew he didn’t trust himself to answer. Avoiding the topic, he rolled his eyes and chucked a pillow in her direction.

“Fine,” he relented, and started to place the pillows back at the head of the bed. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“You choose,” she offered, before tossing the pillow back to him. “It really doesn’t matter to me.”

A knock and a voice diverted their attention to the door.

“Room service.”

Lucy was already making her way to the door when Tim stopped her. 

“Wait,” he said in a firm, but quiet voice, causing Lucy to turn to look at him. She noticed his hand hovering behind the firearm tucked away at the small of his back.

“I’ve got it,” she reassured him. “It’s okay.”

“I know you do,” he returned, stepping in close and lowering his voice. “I just don’t like this. Any of this. I keep feeling like something is going to go wrong or our cover’s going to be blown.” He peered through the peephole to find a waiter with a room service cart on the other side. Keeping his hand behind his back, Tim opened the door, then poked his head out to look up and down the hallway.

The coast was clear.

“Baby,” Lucy cooed, walking toward Tim, “you got us room service?” Her fingers curled around his biceps and the tips of her press-on nails sent a shiver through his body.

He turned his head to look at her, and dammit, the way she looked up at him with adoration written so plainly across her face reminded him she could turn her undercover persona on and off so easily. If he didn’t know any better, he’d believe she was actually into him. And it was his job to play along.

Read on AO3

[bisexualamy]

I see people talk about fanfiction and novels being different mediums a lot, and while I don’t necessarily disagree, I don’t feel like I understand either. In your opinion, what makes them different mediums from each other? What decides that two things are separate mediums like in general? It’s totally cool if you don’t wanna answer this btw, I know it’s kind of a lot

No worries I think that's an interesting question! With any categories, the boundaries on this are going to be fuzzy, but the reason I believe they're different mediums is that fundamentally, on a metatextual level, the languages are different. What do I mean by this? Let's use film as an example, a medium that I'd argue is very obviously a different medium than novels, even if we may not be able to articulate all the reasons why.

What are some attributes of film that differentiate it from novels (another storytelling medium) or paintings (another visual medium)? Films and novels are both storytelling mediums, but films have visual and auditory components. They also mainly consist of storytelling through visual cues and dialogue. Exposition is given visually or in media res by characters speaking. In a novel, your omniscient narrator giving you a few paragraphs of background on your main characters is common, and so expected it probably flies over the reader's head. In a film, a narrator doing the exact same thing for all the main characters often comes off clumsy. It takes you out of the story in a film, where it doesn't in a novel.

Film is also a time-based medium. A film unfolds over time, and you cannot experience the entire film in one moment or glance. That's not true of a painting (at least traditionally). With a painting, you can view the whole painting in one look. Now, you can sit with a painting, pick out details, analyze the craft or ponder it for a long time and watch as new aspects jump out at you. Fundamentally, however, if you wanted to view a whole painting in one look, you can, and it would still make sense. You cannot do that with a film. On the other hand, a painting is typically not an auditory experience. To do so would be an experimental use of the form. In modern film-making, the exact opposite is true. Music, dialogue, and environmental sound, all of these things are essential to how a film tells a story. To not use them would be considered experimental or odd.

These are three different mediums with three different "languages" in how they interact with their audience. They may share parts of their languages, like I said above, but they don't speak the same language. What works well for one medium can come off clumsy or strange in another.

I believe fanfic and novels have sufficiently different languages that they should be considered different mediums. Both of them are short or long form written mediums telling some sort of story. But fanfic's relationship to its source material is such an inherent trait that novels do not have. The relationship doesn't have to be positive (it's often, in fact, argumentative or strained or dismissive), but the relationship exists. Even in AU fanfiction. Even in fics full of OCs.

In canon compliant and even canon divergent fics, this relationship is more obvious. These fics are both conversations with the source material as much as they are stories. They're playing in the author's sandbox, or they're wrecking their sandcastle and building something else. They're saying "I like/dislike what you did with this specific story, and I'm going to show you that by rewriting or expanding it." They take large aspects of the author's story whole cloth: the characters, the setting, the magic system, the tech, etc.

These fanfics often have little exposition at the top because they presume a familiarity with the characters, the world, or both. This alone makes them really different from novels. Creatively and seamlessly integrating exposition, immersing your audience in a new world and convincing them to stay, is a really important aspect of a novel that these fics don't have to contend with. This alone fundamentally changes how you'd structure a story.

For AU fics, both fics in AU settings and AU fics full of OCs, the above still applies. These fics are still a conversation with the source material. Something about the source material compelled an author to flip it and remix it and change it around. That conversation might be "in the source material, these characters suffered, and I don't want them to suffer any longer" or it could be "I felt the story had a vacancy that this OC fills" or it could be "if these characters had the time/awareness/ability to grow closer, they would've fallen in love." These are all direct commentaries on the original work.

An exercise that I believe illustrates this point the best is to try and adapt an AU fanfic to an original work. Try to file the serial numbers off. I've done this with some of my fic, and it just doesn't work. You don't realize how much you presume the audience knows until you have to cater to an audience who knows nothing of the source material. That hilarious joke you wrote? Turns out it's only funny because it's a nod to this character's original characterization. This awesome climatic plot point that ties the whole story together? Turns out in relies on a specific bit of lore, a quirk of the magic system, or an aspect of the character's past history or personality. Now that this is a novel, you have to back-fill all of that exposition. And you can try to do that, but watch how your story gets clunky and bloated. You will have to start viciously killing your darlings, as you realize that your favorite scene is beautiful in a fic, but sounds awkward and out of place in a novel. Soon, you're basically just rewriting the whole thing to fit a different medium.

Many fanfic writers are extremely talented. And much of that talent, that wit, that perfect line that you can't get out of your head, is integrally informed by your knowledge of the source material. The irony falls flat without having read the source books. The relationships suddenly feel shallow when you don't have seasons of backstory to deepen them. You do not realize how much of fanfic writing consists of this back and forth until you go looking for it.

And here's the thing: if your fanfic has a totally AU setting and it consists of completely original characters, I'd argue that's just a novel posted to AO3. If all you need to do is change the names to make it work, that's a novel. This is why Clueless is inspired by Jane Austen's Emma and not an AU fanfic of it. If you've never read Emma, if you went into Clueless not knowing that Emma was the inspiration for it, you'd perfectly understand the movie.

In fanfic, the source material is always present. It can be obviously present with canon compliant fic. It can be antagonistically present with canon divergent or AU fic. And it is still present, floating in the background, with totally AU fic. Ultimately, the changes a fanfic author makes to the source material are, themselves, as integral to the fanfic as the words on the page. It is a dialogue with the source material: what it did well, what it could've done better, what this author believes is the essence of the story, or the world pushed to its limit, that even though we're in space or in a coffee shop or 1920s New York, we're still, on some level talking about the source material.

This is an aspect of fanfic I love that novels do not have. Novels have a lot of other great stuff! I love novels! But while novels are often engaged in a dialogue with their present society or their predecessors in a genre, that conversation is much more nebulous than it is with fanfic. You can read Slaughterhouse-Five or Gravity's Rainbow, and while knowing their contexts helps you understand them on a deeper level, that is unnecessary to their enjoyment. They are fundamentally more standalone works than fanfic will ever be.

This is ultimately why I think comparing fanfic and novels is comparing apples to oranges. They're different mediums. They use different languages. They require different skills and they fill different artistic niches. You might as well be comparing a film to a painting just because they're both visual art.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

A Safe Place: Part 4

Summary: Jake has one happy place. His pride and joy and comfort. When things go south, this is what he turns to.

Marc has started to rely on Jake to be his solid force. The unshakable rock that keeps them all stable.

Steven knows better. They are all delicately balanced on a thin wire.

What happens when one of them takes a spill?

Pairings: LaylaxMarc, LaylaxJake, LaylaxSteven

Universe: MCU

Warnings: Dissociation, Depression, DID, Habits of self destruction, discussion of mild self harm, talk of child abuse, depictions of eating disorders (in relation to depression), PTSD

This chapter depicts a heavy scene of child abuse. Please proceed with caution.

Word Count: 5426

Previous Chapter HERE

Part: Four - Steven spends a long night struggling to make sense of what happens when fear creeps in.

Next Chapter HERE

-----

Steven didn’t remember much of his childhood. What he did remember he was learning to look at with a new perspective. 

Made up memories were scattered across his past in an effort to fill in the gaps or to make sense of unusual situations he found himself in. 

He tried not to dwell on the past much anymore. It made him too sad to think of what he hadn’t known and how much he could have helped. 

Not to mention the new views he had on his parents. Or the brother he didn’t know about. 

Now he could look back on his trashed room and imagine Marc lashing out at the unfairness of it all. He could see him on the playground with a skinned up knee and see Marc getting into a fight with someone that had bullied them. 

If he looked harder, he might even spot Jake hiding in a memory or two. It was always harder to spot Jake. Marc had learned how to look back and find him, though looking back was harder for Marc to do. 

Marc admitted that he thought he was just blacking out. Or that Steven had taken the reins for a bit. Denial ran strong in their system. 

A new memory had surfaced. One that Steven was finding harder and harder to ignore. 

It was blurry and moved around him like a dream. A small them waking up from a sound. A voice urging them to hide. HIde. We have to hide. 

The more Steven tried to focus on it, the more he felt a sharp ache and urge to pull back. 

Marc had once told him that their memories were a minefield. Stumble through carelessly and someone was going to get hurt. 

The last thing Steven wanted was to hurt them. Especially after Marc’s binge the other day that had left him worse for wear. Marc was the most likely to get hurt from careless exploration. 

So Steven left it alone. It was just a memory. It wasn’t even his. It would circle and then fade eventually. All their memories did. 

A falling sensation and a jolt made Steven wake up suddenly, his head spinning as he came to in a position he hadn’t been prepared for. 

He was sitting up, knees drawn up to his chest and head resting on his folded arms. Had they been sleeping like this? 

His neck was stiff and his back hurt.

It was dark and stuffy. Everything felt muffled. He couldn’t see anything. Something soft was touching his head and he reached up to find a row of fabric over him. 

Squinting, he found a small crack of light to the side and waited for his eyes to adjust. 

Moving slowly, his muscles aching from being in such a tight spot, he pushed against the side and it swung open, letting him spill out to the floor. 

“What the hell?” He looked up at the tiny closet door. “Why are we in the closet?” 

Stretching, he slowly pulled himself to his feet and looked around the room. It was still very dark outside. He could hear the pitter patter of rain hitting the window. 

The lump on the bed let out a soft snore and shifted. 

Layla hadn’t noticed them slipping away. 

Steven checked inside to find all was quiet in his head too. “Bloody hell.” He rubbed his eyes and headed to the window to look outside. 

Everything spun and Steven jerked as his head hit the back of the closet with a thump. 

Groaning, Steven pushed the door open and rolled out of the closet again. It was dark outside. Not much time had passed. 

This time he took his time as he got to his feet and stared down at the snoring lump in the bed. 

A sound outside. Pitter patter. Was it raining? 

The world blacked out and Steven jolted as his leg kicked the far side of the closet. “Nngh!” He winced and pushed the door open roughly, this time crawling from the closet angrily. 

Alright. Bed. It was bedtime. Steven got up and sat on the side of the bed, lifting a blanket to slide under the covers so he could snuggle with his wonderful wife. 

He was going to put them to bed and deal with this later when the sun was up and it wasn’t raining outside and-

A shirt fell off the hanger and landed on his head. Frustration started to boil over and Steven felt himself starting to breathe heavily. He kicked the door open with a bang and pulled himself from the closet like a man crawling from his own grave. 

On the bed Layla sat up and looked around in confusion. 

Steven opened his mouth to call out and there was a thunderclap that shook the building, drowning him out. 

His hands went over his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut as the sound carried on and on and on-

Someone was knocking on the door to the closet and Steven looked up and around frantically. 

“No… No no no NO!” He curled up tighter and buried his face in his arms. 

The door opened and Layla looked down at him in confusion. “Steven? What are you doing in the closet?” 

He laughed because he felt like crying. “Hiding.” He sighed and slowly stretched his legs out as far as he could in the small space. 

“Oh…” She nodded as if that made perfect sense. “Do you want to come out?” 

“Apparently not.” He sighed and leaned back, moving to push some of the hanging clothes aside so they would at least not be in his face anymore. 

“What are you hiding from?” She crouched down and looked at his set up. 

“I don’t know.” Steven shrugged. “Would you toss me a pillow and a blanket? I think I’m going to be in here for a while. Might as well get comfortable, yeah?” 

Layla frowned then got up and headed back to the bed to fetch the items. “Is everything alright?” She glanced back as she collected the large comforter. 

“I don’t know. I guess I’m not very good at this part.” He sighed and leaned his head back. “Someone is upset. Or scared. Or… Dreaming? I can’t seem to get out of here.” 

“You’ve tried?” She held out the pillow and Steven fluffed it up as he placed it behind him for better back support. 

“More than a couple times.” He muttered and fussed aside more of the hanging clothes then moved to drape the blanket over his legs, fussing to get it just right around him for optimal comfort. 

“I’m here now. Do you think that would help?” She held out her hand. 

Steven looked at it. He reached out to take it and -

The door was closed and he was under the blanket. “Damn it!” He fussed and kicked a bit till the blanket was off his face. 

Angrily he sat there a moment in the dark. The urge to just give up and try to sleep there was strong, but he was also angry now. Frustrated and angry and a little scared. 

He saw the light outside the crack in the door flicker and he knew Layla was waiting patiently. 

“Hey…Love?” He called out through the door. “I’m back.” 

“Should I open it?” Her voice was gentle and soft. She was speaking as if she was doing her best not to spook him. 

“I don’t know.” Steven rubbed his face for a moment. “What happened? Who was it? I’ve got zero info here. I’m kinda…Kinda getting scared.” 

Layla was quiet for so long that he was starting to wonder if she had heard him. 

The door cracked open just enough for her to see him. She was sitting on the floor next to the closet. 

“Well…” She bit her lower lip then looked away. “You were getting out alright. There was a bit of thunder and one of you pushed me away and got back in. He said he had to hide.” 

Steven pushed the door open further and stared at her. “Are you alright?” 

She smiled and looked at him fully. “It wasn’t very hard. I was just startled. Whoever it is, they are not really awake. It sort of looked like when Marc has his flashbacks.” 

“Do you think it’s Marc?” Steven sighed. It was hard to get Marc out of his flashbacks sometimes. Though usually it wasn’t like this. Usually it was Marc pacing or trying to get away… To run. Not to hide. 

Layla frowned. “It’s hard to say. It wasn’t like I’ve seen before. He was pretty scared.” 

Steven nodded. “He’s trying to hide… I think I should just ride it out in here till we’re a bit more awake.” 

“Do you need anything?” She moved to grab a pillow and blanket off the bed and pulled it down to the floor, making a space next to the closet. 

“No! Layla! The floor is so hard and cold! You go back to bed! I’ll be fine here.” Steven protested. 

She smiled and rolled herself up in the blanket. “I’ve slept in worse places than this.” 

Steven slowly lay back as best he could and pulled the blanket up around himself. “You shouldn’t have to suffer because of us.” He frowned. 

“One of you is scared.” She held out her hand. “I want to be there if you need anything.” 

Steven took her hand and held it firmly. “We don’t deserve you.” 

She squeezed his hand gently. “You deserve the world.” 

They lay there in silence for what felt like ages. At one point he was pretty sure he heard Layla snoring softly till she adjusted then squeezed his hand again. 

Steven? Marc blinked awake and slowly eased into the body. Steven felt exhausted and gladly slipped to the back for a moment. 

“What?” Marc stared down at his hand in Layla’s for a moment then sat up. “Why are we in the closet?” 

I was hoping you could tell me that. Steven muttered. 

Marc raised an eyebrow and pushed the door open. Layla yawned loudly and sat up as Marc pushed the blanket away and crawled out of the closet. 

Watch that first step, mate. Steven warned. 

“The hell are you talking about?” Marc stood up and looked around. He took a couple of steps -

Steven was back in front and they were once more in the closet. 

What the fuck was that?! Marc snapped as he once more came around. 

“Welcome to closet town. Population, three…” Steven sighed. “At least this confirms what I suspected.” He opened the door little by little again and found Layla sitting up and waiting. “Hey.” 

Layla waved hello. “Jake?” 

Steven nodded and thumped back against the wall. “Yeah. It’s Jake.” 

The hell is Jake doing? Why are we in the closet? How long have we been here? Marc sounded grumpy. He didn’t like waking up in strange places or being booted from front so roughly. 

Steven laughed and ruffled his hair a bit to chase away the cobwebs. “Not so fun, is it? You wanna try again? You can have front if you promise to sit here and wait it out.” 

Marc considered for a moment. Is he having some sort of… Thing? 

Steven laughed harder and put his face in his hands for a moment. He looked up at Layla and smiled. “Marc wants to know if Jake is having a ‘thing’.” 

I don’t know! A flashback! Episode! Whatever you want to call it! How do we make him stop?  

“I think Marc’s a little grumpy.” Steven sighed and shook his head. “You don’t make him stop.” 

Layla gave them a sympathetic smile. “You gotta wait it out, Marc.” She patted his leg gently. “I would never force you out of a ‘thing’. You just have to make sure he feels safe and be there when he’s done. Right now, safe for him is hiding in the closet.” 

Marc muttered for a moment then was contemplative. He pushed through and rolled his shoulders to keep them from going stiff. “Mine aren’t this bad, are they? Usually pretty quick I feel like. Over and done.” 

Layla gave Marc a look. “Are you kidding?” 

“They aren’t this bad.” Marc huffed. 

Layla pressed her lips into a thin line. “Are you making this into a contest? Because Jake is hiding in a closet. Do I need to remind you about what you did to poor Steven the other day?” 

Marc made an exasperated sound. “Yeah. Alright. It could be worse. What are we hiding from?”

The second he asked he regretted it. He looked up at the clothes hanging above them and suddenly realized he’d been there before. 

Hide. Hide… She’s coming. The memory threatened to push through and Marc tensed. He could hear the sound of something banging and the rain was getting too loud. 

He pulled the blanket up to his chin and winced. “Hold on. Hold on…” He reached up and pulled the door closed and let himself curl up into a small form, huddled in the dark under the heavy blanket. He closed his eyes as he fought off the memory. He wanted no part of it. 

Steven took front back before Marc could be dragged down too. “You alright?” 

Marc let Steven know he was still there, but he had no intention of coming back out while they were in the closet hiding. 

Steven sighed and opened the door again as he faced Layla’s worried face. “Sorry. Marc must have recognized the memory. I think we used to sleep in the closet a lot as a kid. It was…Safer.” Steven winced as he pieced it together. 

Layla held out her hand and Steven took it again, clinging just a little tighter than before. 

“You know… As a kid I used to think monsters were in my closet.” She let him cling to her as much as he needed. “I never went in there. It was dark and scary. I can’t imagine what would drive him to find the closet to be the safe place. The sort of monster that he was hiding from…” 

Steven nodded sadly and moved to lay back down. “Just need to wait it out… We’ll be fine.” 

Steven stared ahead at the far wall into the darkness. He could feel the memory. Floating there just out of his reach. Usually Jake was the keeper of the really nasty ones. Marc was never supposed to get close to them. A rule that Marc more than happily agreed to. He had enough trouble with the ones he had. 

But now, Jake was compromised and struggling to hold this memory. 

Steven felt the door to this hidden room open. His curious nature couldn’t help but want to go inside and take a look around. 

Don’t do it. Marc warned as he pulled back further. Steven. Stop.

Steven frowned then flexed a little, carefully pushing Marc further away until he was blocked out. Something he had slowly been learning to do by watching Jake. He was a protector too, after all.

How am I supposed to protect if I don’t know what I’m protecting us from?

Steven pushed the door open. 

–

Marc hated the rain. He hated the sound of running water. It was no wonder after the flood. After he nearly drowned and after—

Marc had nightmares when it rained at night. He would wake up sweating and gasping for air. Those were the good nights. 

On the bad nights he would wake up screaming. HIs parents usually ignored him. They were under the impression that they should just wait it out. It was a phase. He’d grow out of it. How was he supposed to toughen up if they coddled him, after all? 

Sometimes, on the really bad nights, he would wake up screaming and she would decide she had had enough. 

“You want something to scream about?” He heard the sound of her steps on the stairs. Slow. Unstead. The mostly empty bottle knocking against the wall with every other step as she climbed. 

Marc knew she was coming. Tscht. Tscht. Tscht. The sound of the bottle coming closer. The rain on the window threatening to drown him. Panic started to fill him and he rocked on the bed, clutching at his pillow. 

“Steven… I need Steven…” It would be easy to slip into Steven’s world now. Let Steven smile and pretend they were hiding from the thunder outside. Steven could let him deal with the pain just a little longer… 

“I can hear you sniveling. Are you going to apologize again? Tell me how sorry you are for existing? For killing him?” She was at the top of the stairs now. The bottle slid against the wall as she took a misstep. She was too far gone tonight. There would be no control. 

“She’s going to kill me.” The thought struck through him like a bullet. 

And then Jake was there. Jake was a survivor. He could take the worst of everything. He knew how to take the hits. He knew how to patch them up afterwards. 

He also knew when to run. 

On rough days when there was time, he could slip away and run down the street. He’d slip away into the nearest park, library, or the deli down the street. The owner there was kind and would give him a bagel at half price. Sometimes he got extra schmear. 

“She’s coming…” He looked at the window. It was dark and it was raining. It was too late to run. He’d have to risk being out all night just to avoid her. And she’d be double mad when he came back later. Was it safer out there? “Hide… We have to hide… Hide!” 

He muttered to himself as he jumped up and ran to the closet. A safe place in the mind of a child. He pushed his laundry aside and made space for himself in the dark and stuffy closet, pulling the door closed quickly. 

“Marc. Where are you?” She opened the door with a bang. He had long ago learned not to lock it. It didn’t matter. She had the little tool needed to get the door open easily. The effort just made her angrier. 

Jake held his breath and curled up in the back corner, trying to hide under the clothes and toys there. 

He could see the light from his room shifting under the crack of the door as she moved around. He should have left the window open. Maybe she’d think he’d run away and leave. Maybe he should have run away. He should have gotten them out. Gotten them away. Made them safe…

“MARC!” She kicked his bed and he could hear her checking. Searching. Looking for them. All he could do was hope. Hope that she gave up. That her anger fizzled out before she found him. That she would go back down stairs and pass out like she always did. 

The door swung open and he froze. Don’t see me don’t see me don’t see me. He closed his eyes tightly and hoped… 

She kicked the pile of clothes he was under and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. He waited, holding his breath till he thought he might pass out. Maybe it would be better if he did. 

He suddenly felt a vice-like grip on his arm and he was pulled from his hiding place. 

“You little…” He looked up as he was pulled out into the open. He saw her fury and then he saw the flash of the bottle as the light glinted off it. 

He screamed. 

–

Steven jerked back hard, gasping as he pulled the blankets over his head and he curled into a small ball, trembling. 

No. Not him. Jake. Jake had taken front and Steven had managed to cling on this time. 

Steven sat back, speechless. He felt his heart break as Jake clung to the safety of the blanket and the darkness. 

He knew how to comfort Marc. He had known Marc all his life, even if he hadn’t realized it. It came naturally to him. He knew what Marc needed and how to stop him from his spiral of guilt and self hatred. 

This was different. Jake didn’t have those traits. Jake was strong and stoic and could handle anything. Jake carried the worst of their memories and past and didn’t so much as flinch. 

Now here he was, flinching. 

Steven suddenly wondered. Did things bother Jake? Was this the first time? How many times had Jake escaped a stressful situation? How many times did he lash out because he was afraid? How often could he brush things off before they built and built until here he was hiding like he was that small boy again, just trying to survive. 

Steven had given Jake such a wide space to exist in. Afraid to step on toes or get in his way. Jake was like the big brother he respected and didn’t know how to be around. Maybe he had given him too much room. 

Maybe Jake was more like the little brother, trying too hard to impress them with how strong he was. Maybe he needed to know that it was okay to feel overwhelmed sometimes. Maybe he just needed to know that someone was there for him… 

Steven nodded to himself and slowly settled in around Jake, letting him know that he was there. 

“She isn’t here, Jake…” He whispered, letting them breathe and feel their chest expand. “She will never hurt us again. Not like that. She’s done all the damage she’s going to do.” 

He could hear Layla moving to the side. A hand snuck out from the blanket and pulled the door closed again. He needed it to be quiet. To be still. He’d apologize to Layla later. She would understand. 

“Thank you.” He breathed slowly, forcing them to slow down and be still. “For protecting us. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” 

He felt Jake still and slowly the body relaxed back on the floor, unfolding and letting go of the incredible tension it was holding. 

“I’m here. I’m here for you. Okay? When it gets too hard, you have to tell me.” Steven slowly slid a hand over his face, letting the sensation calm them as he nestled into his pillow and found it comforting and soft. “You don’t have to talk. We can even set the closet a little better if you like. For when it gets scary. Some pillows… Maybe a nice blanket. I’m not opposed to a plush or even a little night light we can turn on. A book would be nice too. If I’m going to be in here a while, might be nice to read something so I don’t have to go staring at the wall all night, huh?” 

He felt a small smile tug at his lips and he slowly let Jake back into the body so he could feel it relax fully. 

Jake slowly uncovered their head and stared up at the hanging clothes. “I think I got lost…” 

Easy to do with our memories… 

“I’m not supposed to have that issue. I’m the one that holds them.” Jake sighed and closed his eyes. “Are we okay?” 

You can’t juggle that much all the time and not expect to drop a ball or two. Steven lifted up their hands so Jake could see them. We’re perfectly fine. Safe and just a little cramped. 

Jake stared up at their hands for a moment then brought them in to gently run his lips across his knuckles, feeling the tender and still healing skin there from the fight at the bar. It was soft and gentle as if it were a silent apology to the bruised and injured flesh there. “We’re a mess.”

Yeah well… Apparently we took a bottle to the head at some point. Being a mess comes naturally after that. Steven muttered bitterly. Obviously we survived… But… He hesitated, unsure how to ask the next part. 

Jake rolled over and pulled the blanket to his shoulders. “We went to the hospital. Stitches and a few other injuries. I don’t remember much from that night after that. I think we passed out. Maybe it scared her and she stopped before doing more. Or maybe Dad stepped in for a change. Who knows.” 

He sounded detached again. Like the memory wasn’t the single worst thing Steven had ever seen. 

Steven was angry. We didn’t deserve that. None of that. You shouldn’t of had to deal with that alone, Jake… I wish… 

What did he wish? That he had known about it earlier? That his happiness have been taken from him as a child? That he had felt the pain the other two had felt? 

Jake was silent for a long moment, deep in thought and perhaps even drifting just a bit. 

Steven was about to ask for front again when another memory was handed to him like a small glowing peace offering. 

Jake closed his eyes and pushed it gently towards Steven. 

–

Jake was just a bit older now. Not much more than the previous time. Perhaps a little wiser. Late at night he had taken to sleeping in the closet. 

Marc would wake up there in the mornings and think nothing of it. He had already started to accept that his memory was unreliable. 

Jake would wake them up late at night and crawl in there with his blankets and pillows. It was quiet there. He couldn’t hear the rain outside in there. It was dark and easy to disappear. He was learning how to go unnoticed. 

He was no fool, though. The closet had left him vulnerable in other ways. She knew to look there now and there was nowhere to run. 

A new idea had come to him though. 

He was more vigilant now. He watched her closely. He knew when to expect the casual abuse and violence. If things looked like they might be more, he had a new plan. 

Tonight he would test it. She had set the big bottle out just after dinner. Her malice was radiating off of her and he knew it was only a matter of time. 

On their way up to bed he had stopped by the little side table by the door and pocketed his father’s keys. 

Now he grabbed a bag of blankets he had packed earlier and snuck silently out the door. With a quiet click of the keys, he slipped into his father’s car and locked the doors. 

She wouldn’t be getting in there. He’d never let her in. It didn’t matter how angry it made her. He was safe. 

He turned on the car cautiously. He’d seen his father do it a million times. He had no plans to drive. He knew he was too small for that. But the radio! The radio was his. He fiddled with the dial till he found a station that brought him joy. 

He knew better than to run the car all night. He would listen for an hour or two then turn the car off and relax. Snuggling up with his blankets and putting the seat back, he stared up at the car’s ceiling and for the first time in his short life, he felt happy and safe. 

–

Steven tapped on the closet door gently. He could hear Layla moving around to get closer. 

“Are you alright?” She called gently through the door. 

“Yeah.” Steven sniffled and wiped the tears from his eyes. “We’re going to be here a while. We need… We need to settle. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, Steven.” She fussed at him. “You do what you need to do. Do you need anything?” 

Steven wiped his eyes again and settled back. “No. I think we’re just going to try to get some sleep here. Jake’s alright. We’ll talk more in the morning, yeah?” 

He didn’t know how to explain to her that there was a very good chance that they would need to spend more than a few nights in the closet. That there was a small scared boy that desperately needed to feel safe and secure. 

“As long as everyone is alright.” She sighed. “I’m not going far. Okay? If you need anything just knock.” 

“Alright love, good night!” He closed his eyes and reached for that memory again. Reached for that feeling of peace. “Good night, Jake.” 

—

Layla had a fitful sleep. Every shift or sound from the closet woke her with the expectation that something was wrong. 

She knew it was a trust issue. She had to trust that they would be alright. That Steven knew what he was doing. That Jake would never put them in danger. That Marc was safe. 

Her heart ached to imagine the three of them curled up in such a small space because they suddenly didn’t feel safe. 

When dawn finally arrived, she chanced getting up to go to the bathroom and start the coffee. She didn’t know who would emerge, but she really hoped that a warm caffeinated beverage would help them pull through the day. 

She had just started the coffee maker when her phone went off, giving her a start as she tried to grab it before it might wake them up. 

“Hello?” He half paid attention as she glanced towards the bedroom. 

The voice on the other end sounded official and stern as he asked for her or Mr. Lockley. 

She was suddenly wide awake as the person introduced himself as a police officer. 

Layla frantically snatched up any scrap paper she could find as she jotted down information and numbers. She could feel the dred building as she got more and more details. 

By the time the phone call ended, she heard a click and looked up to see one of them emerging from the little makeshift den. 

Steven looked to her and gave a small wave and smile. “‘Morning, love.” 

His hair was a mess of tangles and he paused to slowly stand up and stretch out his stiff back and joints. 

She anxiously waited for them to freshen up a bit and slowly trudge out to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. 

Steven poured himself a cup and moved to sit across from her at the table. He looked at her expectantly as if waiting for her to bring up any part of the night. There was a bit of nervous energy to him, but he also looked ready to take on anyone that would challenge the decisions he had made. 

“Hey…” She started and took a sip of her own coffee. “Uh… What happened last night… You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Okay?” 

Steven nodded firmly. “We’re okay. It was just… There was a bad memory and Jake was having trouble. Um… It was a pretty nasty one, honestly. Jake says he has it but to be safe we decided that we might need to… Sleep in there another day or two. Just to keep things… good.” He petered out at the end. It was clear that he was trying to protect them. He didn’t want to throw anyone under the bus. He was too loyal for that. 

“Is this to protect Marc?” If the memory was that bad, she couldn’t even imagine what it might do to Marc if he got caught up in it. She wondered if it was time to start searching the flat for his hidden alcohol stashes. Something she should have done a while ago. 

“No.” Steven flushed then backtracked. “Yes. I mean… In a way it will protect him. But I think Jake needs it more. Are you mad?” 

“Of course not!” She reached out and took his hand across the table. “How could I ever be mad at you? Especially over something like this. You are doing what you need to do, Steven.” 

Steven gave a small smile and held her hand gently. 

She swallowed hard, afraid to break this moment. “The police just called.” She looked down at the table then back up at him fully. “They found the car.” 

His face gave the smallest of twitch as his eyes instantly narrowed and Jake sat before her. He stood up, knocking the chair over in a rush. “Where is it?!” 

[eyesxxyou]

I’ll resend then!

I bet monster hobie is animalistic in the bedroom. Growling, grunting, scratching at your skin leaving markings that’ll still be there in the morning while he claims you repeatedly in the night -🐈‍⬛

He totally is. You could say he’s a monster about it. He corners you, has you just where he wants you. He fucks you in the darkest corner of the room where she has the most energy to feed off of. His eyes glow bright and for a moment, you think you can see canines, fangs. His claws are sharp, digging into your skin as he holds you up with ease. His shadows hold your wrists against the wall, helps him keep you still as he fucks you in a rather feral manner.

You don't know if his species go through a mating season but it’s like clockwork every couple of months he gets like this. Rougher, more demanding, a bit more monstrous. He claims he needs you through growls, that he’d be nothing but a shadow without you.

He has you cumming on his fat cock that can't even fit inside you all the way, not without leaving you bedridden for days on end and sore beyond belief. He abuses your poor cunt without mercy. You’re crying, trying to close your legs but his shadows are wrapped so lovingly around your thighs, prying them apart with an inhuman amount of strength.

“Jus’ take i’.” He licks a salty teardrop from the round of your cheek. “‘m almos’ done wit’cha.” He lied. He lied straight through his fanged teeth. It was only 3 in the morning and the sun wouldn't rise for another 6 hours.

You shuddered with another orgasm.It might be 7 or 8, you had lost count. He fucked every thought from your mind that wasn't him and the intrusion of his cock inside your wanton pussy. You were dripping, creaming on his length, a puddle forming on the floor below you. You had squirted all over him.

“Gooood boy.” Hobie chuckles, one of his shadows playing with your clit. He kisses the sweet spot between your neck and your shoulder, teeth grazing with the subtle threat to bite.

Fucking like this reminds you that Hobie isn't a human, he’s something entirely different. He doesn't offer a human kind of kindness, he fucks you like this without pause or mercy. He fucks you like this until the sun comes up.

[thornescratch]

I know it's cupping but whenever I see athletes with the marks, it's just far more interesting to imagine it's the aftereffects from nasty tentacle sex.

[sighonaraa]

burdened by god's strongest battles (i'm incapable of writing only one fic at a time for a media)

[dcangel]

character.ai stiles is so absolutely sick it makes me want to throw up ⇣

[kanene-yaaay]

Look. Look.

I need to get it out of my system, okay? I just need to. Immediately

Himmel + cheer up tickles

The reason?

I rest my case. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk I am slowing descending into madness here