#he probably keeps track and knows your cycle better than you do

[free-boundsoul]

Menstruation mention, in case anyone wants to avoid

Gods I want nothing more than Damien's hands on my lower stomach right now to soothe these damn cramps.

Or Vega to come around and give me a free hysterectomy since I don't plan to ever use it

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen deal with your period cramps

requested by anon: "Would it be ok for you to write : How would Seventeen react and help with bad period cramps ? (I am currently on my period and its killing me... I can barely stay up, cramps are hurting as hell, I have nausea, hell I feel the worst...)"

notes: tw for menstruation pain, reader therefore has a uterus

masterlist

seungcheol:

tbh he's kinda a little bit Clueless, but he tries his best. cannot fathom the amount of pain you're in, but he does his research and immediately jumps up to boil water for a hot water bottle the second you tell him you're on your period. is confused by the idea of pre-menstrual syndrome n thinks that it's very unfair: bc you can be in pain???? even before the actual menstruation itself???? that sounds terrible :((( always has his arms open for a hug

jeonghan:

spots its arrival better than you. can tell when your period is coming like some sort of seer. has a cupboard full of chocolates and snacks which he stocks up constantly and allows you to take your pick of whatever you feel like having when you're on your period. insists that you don't have to do anything while you're going through the worst of your cramps, tells you to just lie down w the hot water bottle he made for you n he'll do whatever you need okay? 

joshua:

you Need to tell this man whenever your period starts bc otherwise he'll get upset that his calendar is all messed up :(( i firmly believe shua is the typa guy to keep track of your schedules for you, even if your cycle isn't regular. does Everything you want. you wanna eat a whole tub of Celebrations? he's rooting for you. need to cry bc the world is just too frustrating? tell him what movie you wanna cry to, he'll stream it illegally if that's what it takes. will probably also end up crying w you, but hey, we love a supportive guy <3

junhui:

curses the menstruation gods every time you tell him you're having cramps again. is essentially trying to stuff you full of painkillers the entire day bc he hates the idea of you being in pain </3 wanted to buy one of those period cramp simulator machines to see how bad it was for you, ended up chickening out when you told him vv seriously that it was like being thrown into the pits of hell. isn't allowed near the kettle to boil water for you (due to previous Mishaps), so he'll give you a pillow to put over your stomach and hug you in his arms for warmth

hoshi:

is confused for all of two seconds every time you tell him you're having rlly bad cramps (again?? didn't you have them last month??) before it clicks in his head. coos and baby-talks to you, offering his shoulder for you to sleep on if the physical contact will help. builds you a pillow fort to get comfortable in practically every single time. you had a really bad headache one month, and so now he's constantly talking in a hoarse whisper when your cramps are bad

wonwoo:

he's not Entirely sure what to do, but he does know that period pain can often manifest itself in mood swings, so he's always extra caring and considerate around your time of the month. will Let himself be yelled at if you do end up getting frustrated, then will hug you and pat your hair to help you calm down after. makes hot water for all the hot water bottles that you're ever gonna need. 

woozi:

makes sure you take your painkillers on time, and also makes sure you eat. he's heard from his mom that loss of appetite can happen often during periods, especially when cramps are bad, and so he encourages you to eat foods with lots of magnesium and nitrates in it. will hug you if the cramps are really bad and you're practically crawling to him in tears. will probably hug you even if you're only pouting and talking in a sad voice tho, tbh. 

minghao:

he researched that milk chocolate and white chocolate increase cramps pain, and so now he only ever gives you dark chocolate that's 60% cacao and above. has encouraged you to take up meditation when you're not on your period, saying it'll help strengthen you. you're still not entirely sure it's working, but then again, it's better to try than not. swaddles you in fluffy blankets and cushions bc seungcheol stole the hot water bottle to help with his indigestion or something

mingyu:

he's a lil confused, but he means well. carries you bridal-style everywhere you wanna go. searched up the types of foods best to eat to help with period cramps, and cooks food with lots and lots of spinach in it. regardless of whether you like it or not, because it's good for you and makes you feel better. spoon-feeds you the soup he makes, asks if it's making you feel warm inside with his adorable bright eyes

dokyeom:

has a little corner in the bottom of his wardrobe full of sanitary pad packages, bc one time he panicked when you asked him to buy you some and practically cleared the whole shelf of them. also has like 3 boxes of chocolates stacked on top of them bc of that same time where he panicked and ended up buying too many. as a result, always has supplies whenever you need them. is a little clueless too, but he's willing to help w lots of hugs and warmth!! 

seungkwan:

Knows your menstruation cycle for you. frets if you're a few of days early or a few of days late. if you have an irregular cycle, then oh god he's analysing everything to see if there's any sort of pattern. ngl he's a little nervous of you when you're on your period, but he's always ready to open his arms for you to draw you in for a hug if you need. starts crying if you end up crying bc of the pain/ mood swings, bc he's an empath okay n he feels your pain so bad

vernon:

i get the feeling he's like. the hidden pro at dealing with cramps. you tell him that you're hurting, and he's already boiled the kettle to make you a hot water bottle, arms laden with snacks and blankets and do you wanna come into his room to relax and watch the new movie he's fixated on or do you wanna just go to your room by yourself and sleep? big encourager of sleeping through cramps, bc he swears it helps so much and actually. he is so right it really does

chan:

went through like five different brands of paracetamol with you during your previous cramps to see which one was the best n lasted the longest. steals the expensive chocolates from mingyu's stash bc really, the guy has far too much and it's more deserving to go to you when you're in pain and also pls share w him as a thankyou for getting them for you. offers to run you a bubble bath to help you relax, often forgets about the bath while he's doing other stuff and almost makes it overflow

request guidelines

[cartograffiti]

If you want to run a Court of Fey & Flowers Game, dnd isn't what you need

...because it's not what the Dimension 20 cast played, either.

I talked about this a little bit once before, very early in the season, but now that it's done, it's really clear to me that they played Good Society by Storybrewers with a few Dungeons & Dragons elements hacked in, not the other way around. Aabria Iyengar loves Good Society, and it really shows. She merged the systems really beautifully to suit the expectations of D20, and that's why I think players at home will get a better experience by starting with GS materials than by trying to reverse engineer the mechanics Iyengar showed in action.

Things they got from DnD:

-Skill levels/stats.

-Rolling dice to determine success.

-The game master/facilitator (Aabria) playing most characters.

-Some creatures and spells (the dog that has an old man's face, the telepathy spell I can never remember the name of).

-Aabria giving out Inspiration.

Things they got from Good Society:

-The principle of having a character goal that may be kept secret. (In fact, some of D20's specific goals were probably even chosen from Good Society materials. The player character with a secret spouse? There's a card for that.)

-Social reputation tracked by degrees, conferring descriptions and perks. (They did not use GS's exact system. Whether it was a hack or a mix with a game system I haven't played, I don't know.)

-Trading tokens that can be burned to make strong moves. (Again, not GS's exact mechanic--GS uses tokens throughout instead of dice. That game lets you decide what your character is capable of. Tokens make sure everyone has fair chances to act, especially when players have conflicting goals.)

-Additional guidelines and mechanics for agreeing on how the table wants social events to work, as well as how to navigate the varying dynamics of relatives, friends, and rivals.

-Rumors and epistolary phases. (There's a fun post going around about Brennan asking about these because "he wanted to get a good grade in dnd," but I think he was sincerely curious how they worked, because they aren't dnd!)

-The overall cycle of play, dictating the order of phases and pace.

-Some mechanics for the reputations and interactions of fae courts as entities were taken from Good Society's Fae Courts mini-expansion.

-Monologue tokens. (D20 has Aabria as the only one who can use these, GS allows anyone in the game to ask someone to monologue.)

-Additional guidelines for determining world state, character creation, and keeping the story within a consistent style and tone that feels like a recognizably Regency story...even when giant owlbears can get gay married.

-Other flavoring and approach details.

Things Good Society has that Dimension 20 didn't get to show off:

-The ability for players to also choose a secondary character to control, allowing them to participate in more roleplay and experience multiple personalities or social roles in the same game.

-A really rich and thoughtful collaboration phase, before the story begins.

-The ability to share facilitator duties among the table, and to allow the facilitator to play a main character as well as supporting cast.

-Advice and expansions for adjusting the game to various tones, genres, and other historical periods.

So you're looking at buying Good Society:

What you need is pdfs. Definitely grab the base game for $21.00, that has most of what I just described. If you're excited to see their Fae Court specific materials, it's included in the Expanded Acquaintance bundle with many other pieces of content, or there's a bundle of the base game and every expansion they've produced. You do not need to buy the more expensive bundles that include physical books and cards unless professional physical versions delight you, the pdfs are designed to be printable. Storybrewers also made and provide spreadsheet templates for sessions meeting online, so you can all see your worksheet choices.

Good Society is a really fun and flexible system, and it's most of what we loved about how A Court of Fey and Flowers was structured. It's your best route to a recreation, and well worth playing in its original form. I love that it doesn't have stats and dice--if you've never played a ttrpg that doesn't make you do math, this is a great introduction. I'm so glad Aabria featured it on the show!

[ckret2]

Chapter 29 of human Bill Cipher will find a way out of being the Pines' prisoner or so help him, featuring:

Summerween!!!!

and also:

Henchmaniacs.

Kryptos doesn't actually talk like that, it's just how he's currently feeling.

####

January 1, 1982

"You're late," Bill said, a bit reproachfully.

Ford gave him a surprised look. "Did we have an appointment?" He didn't remember one. He was pretty sure he'd remember an appointment with his muse, even if he'd made it in a dream.

"Pfff, appointments are for people without an eternity of time! No, I'm just used to you dreaming by midnight. It's weird for you to stay up past two when you aren't working on a project."

"I suppose it is." Ford was flattered Bill was paying close enough attention to notice his sleep habits. "I thought I'd stay up late to bring in the new year."

"The what?"

"The... new year?" What wasn't registering. How do you explain New Year's to an alien/angelic messenger? "It's when—"

"Oh, oh right." Bill waved off the rest of Ford's explanation. Several calendars and clocks spiraled in the air like a Ferris wheel in front of Bill, "Between trying to figure out whether you meant it was 0 Pop or Tishrei 1, I completely forgot about Chaos 1. You guys have too many calendars!"

And he'd skipped over January entirely. Wryly, Ford said, "The next time somebody asks for my input, I'll let them know you want us to use a few less."

Bill laughed. "Smart aleck." The calendars and clocks vanished. "And all you did to celebrate was stay up a little later than usual? No parties? Okay, I know you don't know anyone throwing a party—but you didn't even celebrate at a bar?" Bill ruffled his hair. "All work and no play makes Ford a dull boy!"

Ford endured the ruffling. He wasn't quite sure whether Bill was scolding him for staying up celebrating, or for not celebrating enough. "I... suppose I could celebrate in here?"

"What do you want, a fireworks show?" In the distance in Ford's mindscape, a single large firework exploded. It shifted colors, purple to yellow to green to red, before fading. "I don't think so! If you wanted fireworks, you should've gone to the show on the lake. I've got some prophecies to pass on, and I'd rather get to them this REM cycle."

By "prophecies" he probably meant a random assortment of warnings about Ford's upcoming week, which historically had varied in severity from "don't visit the lake Tuesday evening or you'll get caught in a snowstorm and die of hypothermia" to "you'd better get groceries in the morning before they sell out of your toothpaste brand." And Ford was always grateful for such messages—but now he wished he could see what sort of fantastical color-changing dream fireworks show his muse could put on. "I take it it's not a new year on your calendar."

"I don't keep track of that stuff. When you're as ancient as me, celebrating the new year is like celebrating a new hour."

Bill had so easily brushed off the implicit invitation to discuss "his" calendar. Ford wasn't surprised. Over the years of sporadic meetings with his muse, Ford had noted that Bill never shared information about where he'd come from or how he filled his time when he wasn't bestowing his wisdom—as if Bill was a thing that simply is, a muse that offered inspiration because it was made to inspire, with no history or identity outside of its role in service to humanity. He always dodged the questions gracefully.

But he never seemed bothered that Ford had asked. In fact, as long as Ford didn't pry into Bill's history and kept his inquiries comfortably shallow, Bill always seemed happy to receive personal questions. Ford had found that even when Bill talked like he was in a hurry, it was very easy to get him off track (and consequently extend his visit to two or three more dreams) by asking him about himself.

Ford wondered why that was. Was it a part of his duty—was he compelled to answer his chosen students' questions, to enlighten them on the mysteries of the universe, to help tug back the curtain of reality to reveal wonders unknown—wonders that included Bill himself? Or perhaps Bill was used to students seeing him as a source of knowledge without seeing him. Perhaps he was grateful that somebody was interested in him enough to ask.

Whatever the case—Bill clearly liked being asked about himself, and Ford liked getting his muse to stick around a little longer than planned. So rather than letting Bill get on to the prophecies he'd promised, Ford asked, "Do you ever... participate in any human holidays? After all, you've offered so much to humanity. I'm sure any of your prior protégés would have been honored to invite you as a guest to our celebrations. I would be honored." And Ford wouldn't mind having friendly company on the holidays that he'd gotten in the habit of ignoring until they shrank to nothing but a square on a calendar.

"Ha, I know you would! But no, not really," Bill said. "Don't get me wrong, it's not that I look down on your cute little local festivals. They just don't have any relevance to me! A celebration of a bountiful harvest, a prayer to get through the winter, the veneration of a local long-dead celebrity... I come from a timeless realm of divinity, sublimity, color and light! Most of your planet's holidays are about issues that don't matter to me."

"Ah. I see," Ford said. "Are there any human holidays you care about?"

Bill mulled over the question. "Maybe one or two."

####

June 22, 2013

Bill thundered down the stairs, charged into the kitchen, and announced to the Pines, "If I don't get to wear a Summerween costume I will literally die."

Without looking up from the morning paper, Ford said, "Then die."

####

It took ten minutes for Bill to bargain Ford up from "death" to permission to wear a costume—provided that it was free; that Bill agree to stay inside for the holiday without complaint (WITHOUT COMPLAINT) no matter what fun activities he heard happening outside; that Ford didn't have to do anything to help Bill obtain said costume; and that Bill take a dang shower.

Bill groaned. "Another shower already?"

"You wouldn't need so many if you didn't insist on running around in an acrylic sweater and polyester leggings in summer."

Bill knew that. That was one of the reasons he did it. It was useful for the humans to think the showers were their idea.

Bill agreed to all terms, and even volunteered to get the dang shower over with now so they could both get on with the rest of their days.

He'd never admit it, but Bill had been wanting a shower. Not for the hygiene, but for the privacy. This was the first time he'd had a door between himself and the Pines since he'd broken the shack's unicorn hair barrier.

Time to call in reinforcements.

Bill covered the mirrors, turned on the shower, undressed, stuck his head under the shower stream so that if anyone barged in on him he could use his wet hair as proof he'd been showering, and squinted through the wooden door to confirm there weren't any humans lurking nearby. Coast was clear—but wow, it hurt to bend his eye that way. He rubbed at it irritably as he set up his ring of candles again, and wasn't surprised when his fingertips came away bloody. He thought it hurt more than it had last time. He wondered how many more times he could glance into higher dimensions before this body's eyeballs gave out on him. Hopefully he wouldn't need them that long.

He drew Kryptos on the floor, lit the candles, and started muttering the chant to summon him. "Rhombus sapphirinus. Fraternitas, caritas..."

The steamy air went chill, the water pattering in the tub grew muffled, the whole world slowed and paused. For weeks, Bill's every attempt to break into the mindscape had been a futile strain; but now, instead, the mindscape surged up and swallowed him into its gray twilight, like evening embracing the land on the heels of sunlight's departure. Bill knew he wasn't awake anymore. It was working.

A force outside of Bill borrowed his throat to speak the last of the ritual—it worked!—and before his eyes, a diamond window opened into the Nightmare Realm.

####

Standing at the edge of one of the Quadrangle of Qonfusion's many perpendicular floors, arms crossed, scowling deeply, Pyronica glared at a neon-acidic cotton candy nebula light years away. "Guys," she said, "it's doing the thing again."

8 Ball, Keyhole, and Zanthar glanced away from their video game toward the nebula. Amorphous Shape peeled a few squares off a column to peer at it with Hectorgon.

"Look at this." Pyronica clapped her hands.

In the nebula, crackles of lightning-like bolts of light millions of miles long shot through the starry clouds. A noise like thunder boomed from it, rattling the Quadrangle. An ugly statue fell off a column-shaped pedestal and landed on a wall.

She clapped twice more—each time, eliciting more lightning—then gestured emphatically at the nebula. "How am I doing that!"

"Can't be you controlling it," Amorphous Shape said. "That nebula's over a dozen light years away. That light had to have happened years ago, we're just seeing it now."

Already turned back to his video game and determinedly trying to murder Keyhole, 8 Ball said, "Maybe the nebula's controlling you."

Pryonica said flatly, "You think a bunch of stars is making me clap."

"Eh. Like astrology or something."

Hectorgon said, "Could be a time loop thing."

"Could be," Amorphous Shape said thoughtfully.

Pyronica threw up her hands, which made the distant nebula's colors shift slightly. "If it's not weird butterfly effects or faster-than-light light, it's time loops. I hate this place. All it'd take is a hard sneeze to knock the whole dimension down."

She'd been saying things to such effect for the past few months. Consequently, nobody really paid much attention to the latest round of griping about the Nightmare Realm's poor maintenance, until she said, "I'm bailing on the Quadrangle. Soon as I can find a decent rock in some other dimension. Who else is coming?"

8 Ball glanced down at Pyronica from the floor with their gaming setup. "Hold on, are you serious?" He quickly had to look away as Zanthar took advantage of the distraction to attack.

"Yeah, I'm serious. I don't wanna break up the gang, but I'm sick of this dump."

Huddled on a nearby wall like an unemployed gargoyle, Paci-Fire said solemnly, "I will stay, Mother. The Quadrangle of Qonfusion is the only home I have ever known."

"Probably one of my worst life decisions," Pyronica muttered. "The Quadrangle isn't our home, it was Bill's. We're just... just..."

Ducking in from between two columns that seemed to lead to a purple-shadowed nighttime meadow, Teeth said, "Eternal couch-surfers."

"Ha! Yeah, that. Hey, where you been the past week?"

"Took a wrong turn to the bathroom. I ended up in that pocket dimension Bill grounded the electrical wiring into."

"Again?"

"I never know how many times to cross that one infinitely looping hallway!"

Pyronica gestured at Teeth. "See, this place is a complete mess. We'd be better off moving to any other dimension. And you'd like living in a real dimension if you gave it a shot, Paci!"

"No." Paci-Fire crossed his arms. "I do not want to."

"At least think about it. Wouldn't you like to live somewhere that has moons? Instead of going on a road trip to another dimension every time you want to drive a civilization to extinction?"

Keyhole muttered, "I hate those stupid road trips. They're always a zillion light years long and we never do anything fun."

"Hey!" Pyronica pointed at Keyhole. "Watch it! My kid's a lunarcide prodigy, he gets to go on as many moon-destroying trips as he wants!"

Keyhole cringed. "Right, right, sorry." 8 Ball muttered something disparaging about Keyhole's intellect, right before blowing him up for the second time.

Paci-Fire asked, "And say we were to move to a dimension with more moons. What would we do when the authorities follow us home after another successful slaughter?" A side-effect of growing up in the Henchmaniacs was that Paci-Fire regarded The Authorities as a nebulous bogeyman that was personally out to get him and all his family and friends. "Are we to lock the door and cower from them like—like cowards? Or constantly flee from one dimension to the next? No, Mother. I do not wish to live like a pariah in the dark corners of—" his lower mouth sneered around his pacifier, "civilized dimensions. There is nowhere safer for us than the Nightmare Realm."

"Sweetie, you don't have to be afraid of the authorities in other dimensions—"

"Mother! I know no fear." Paci-Fire's eyes flared a bright, dangerous red.

Pyronica playfully tugged one of his horn. "We can find a dimension as primitive as 46'\ without any interstellar cops. Like—which dimension were you from, Teeth, it doesn't even have any organized space authorities, does it?"

"Oh, yeah, pretty much every world in my galaxy was still ground bound when Bill recruited me." Teeth stepped on a column, slid off, and shuffled around it, trying to remember which side doubled as a walkway to the kitchen. "I don't really mind staying here, though. I mean yeah, we don't have a roof, or consistent walls, and the wiring's a mess. But the rent's really reasonable for a place this size in this part of the Nightmare Realm."

Hectorgon processed that. "Hold on." He lay on a wall and slid up it until he was mouth level with Teeth. "You've been paying rent?"

Teeth paused mid-column. "Wh—yeah? What's that supposed to mean?"

Pyronica bit her lip to keep from laughing, elbowed Paci-Fire, and hissed, "I thought Bill was joking about charging Teeth rent!"

Paci-Fire murmured, "Bill Cipher was always a most droll prankster."

"Who are you paying it to?" Hectorgon asked.

"I mean—I was paying it to Bill. But I dunno who took that over, so I guess, kinda... no one?"

With a mildly offended tone, Hectorgon lied, "You were supposed to give it to me now."

"Oh." Teeth shifted awkwardly. "Uh... sorry, Hect, no one told me. I don't think I've got enough on hand to cover all the..."

"It's fine, everything's been topsy-turvy since... the last few months. Just give me what you have and pay back the rest as soon as you can, okay?"

"Sure, sure, no problem. Thanks, man."

Pyronica bit her lip to keep from laughing. "All right, so Teeth is stupid enough to stay here."

"Hey!"

"But I don't see why the rest of us should be." She looked up at the trio playing games below her, then tried to remember which stupid paradox staircase led to that level. She hesitantly headed up one that looked promising. "Moving out would be worth it just to be somewhere with consistent physics!"

"I am contented with the inconsistent physics," Paci-Fire said.

"It took you fifty years longer than most kids to learn how to walk," Pyronica said. "I know you're my little genius! It's this dimension that's holding you down!" 

"Boo," Paci-Fire said sulkily.

"Paci, you don't even like the Quadrangle. Nobody does."

Amorphous Shape let out a chorus of sharp gasps. They slid around a corner and reappeared sliding from the underside of the staircase to the top, laying zigzag atop the steps to glare at Pyronica. "Excuse us."

"I'll step on you, Morph," Pyronica threatened. Amorphous Shape grudgingly slid over for her to pass. "Fine, Bill's stupid 2D groupies like the Quadrangle. But the rest of us don't."

"What's wrong with it?" Morph demanded.

"What's—?!" Pyronica gestured upward at the floor below them. "You don't see the problem with this?!"

"It's supposed to be like that. It's a shortcut." 

"It's a—!" Pyronica covered her face and suppressed a scream. "It's giving me vertigo!"

"It doesn't give us vertigo," Morph said defensively. They partially peeled off the steps to look at Hectorgon. "Does it give you vertigo?"

"No, I'm fine."

"What about you, Kryptos?"

There was no answer.

"Krypt?" Morph reluctantly peeled off the stairs entirely and hovered in the air to try to get a better view.

"He probably got sucked into The Void," Keyhole muttered, "it was vibrating this morning."

8 Ball sighed. "Why do we even have that Void?"

"Man, I dunno."

Pyronica ascended to the bottom of the stairs, sat on the arm of the gamers' couch, and said, "The point is—none of us need this place. I got by fine before joining Bill, most of you guys did too, and we can get by just fine now without squatting in his weird architecture project."

She leaned behind Keyhole and 8 Ball to poke Zanthar's arm. "Big Z, you still have worshippers in your home dimension, right? Aren't you still getting offerings?"

Zanthar shrugged noncommittally.

"They've still got legends of you, you can whip them back into shape in no time. Keyhole, you've got family—"

Without looking away from the screen, where he was losing hideously, Keyhole muttered, "I'm not moving back in with my mom."

"I'm not talking about your mom, stupid, what about your sisters?" 

Keyhole winced, though it was hard to tell whether it was from Pyronica's question or from getting killed for the third and final time. "I don't know... Bill and I were talking about them once, and I realized they're as bad as Mom was. Bill said probably the only reason they didn't treat me as bad is because they never got the opportunity—"

"Who cares what Bill said," Pyronica snapped. "Bill's dead! We don't have to listen to him anymore!"

"Hear hear," 8 Ball muttered; but he couldn't throw in anything else, lest Zanthar blow him up and win the match.

Pyronica said, "Face it: the only reason the rest of us didn't leave the Nightmare Realm millennia ago is because Bill couldn't leave."

Morph drifted through the kitchen—reaching around Teeth to grab a drink out of the fridge as they passed—and unfolded questioningly around a corner. "There you are."

Kryptos was in the rec room, lounging on Bill's stupid tacky optical illusion throne with the fabric of reality upholstery, staring out a window (or skylight, depending on your point of perspective). He grunted at Morph.

Morph said, "Bill's gonna be furious you're using his throne."

"Whatever. Z's already spilled time punch on the armrest." Kryptos pointed at the patch of reality on the armrest that was out of chronological synch with the rest of the throne.

"He's not gonna be furious," Pyronica said, shouting through the doorway that inexplicably connected to the rec room. "He's not gonna be anything because he's dead. He died. D-E-A-D."

"He's not." And suddenly Morph were in Pyronica's face, all of their polygons and lines and piercing slitted eyes circling her head like angry moons. Keyhole leaned toward 8 Ball to see the screen around them, and 8 Ball elbowed him back over. Morph said, "He can't be. If Bill was dead, the Nightmare Realm would be falling apart even faster—"

"So let's bail while we can—"

"—but it's not," they said. "If anything, its degradation is slowing down. That would be impossible if he were dead, he's instrumental to holding the Nightmare Realm together—"

"Unless he lied about that, and he was actually making everything worse," Pyronica said.

"Bill's not a liar! We have the data to prove it, we've been measuring the degradation for billennia—"

"I'm sick of your stupid measurements! It was your 'measurements' that said 46'\ was perfect to take over! Was that stupid barrier part of your measurements?!"

"That barrier was extremely localized, there's no way we could have detected—"

"The portal was right in the middle of it! How did you idiots miss it?!"

8 Ball groaned as Zanthar whittled away the last of his HP. Zanthar let out a gentle hum like the sound of an apocalyptic vacuum cleaner as the game declared him the winner.

8 Ball tossed his controller at the TV. The TV squealed in fear. "If Bill is alive, that's just another reason to get out of the Nightmare Realm! Leave before he gets back! He can play king in this dump by himself."

Paci-Fire said, "Surely, you do not mean that. Were Bill still around..."

"No! No, I do mean it! The only reason we've stayed so long is because everyone's too starstruck or too scared to ditch him! Not anymore! If his flat-brained cultists wanna wait for him, fine! But why do we all gotta stay?"

"Hey!" Hectorgon rushed in from the kitchen to snarl at 8 Ball. "Who're you calling flat, cue tip—?"

Kryptos tuned out the argument downstairs/next door as 8 Ball and Hectorgon started brawling. Who were they kidding? Nobody was leaving. Maybe 8 Ball, he'd tried to split four or five times before crawling back, but Kryptos didn't care about him anyway. Bill had always been right about him: he was too selfish to care about the rest of the gang but too stupid to make it on his own. They'd taken in losers like that before and it had never been a big loss when they left. But no one else would leave. Where would they go?

Where could they go?

Kryptos didn't care about the outerplanar Henchmaniacs' reasons for joining Bill; but the shapes were here because Bill had promised to make them a new home. He was the only one in all of reality who could do it. Kryptos was as desperate to hear from Bill as Morph and Hect were. They'd held fast to Bill's promise for a trillion years—so how could they let go of whatever thin thread of that hope remained? Who would they be if they lost it?

But in his heart, Kryptos didn't really believe Bill was out there. He'd been gone too long. And Kryptos couldn't imagine anything less catastrophic than Bill's destruction could have reversed Weirdmageddon.

Yet he was still here, and still waiting, because he didn't know what else to do. He'd stay in the Quadrangle until the whole realm finally fell apart, just in case Bill casually floated back in one day. He'd do anything they could think of to find him and bring him back.

And then Kryptos got a call from Earth.

He sighed heavily.

Calls from Earth weren't unusual. Perks of having helped found the Fishmasons: Kryptos was occasionally summoned by the Fishermen high-ranked enough to be told their organization really did know an interdimensional alien who was their de facto secret leader and presided over their most important rituals. Assuming "de facto secret leader" meant "living equivalent of a beloved sports team mascot," and "presided over" meant "got free invitations to," and "most important rituals" meant "most fun parties." But the humans liked to pretend that their little group was a lot more important and cloak-and-dagger than the social club it really was; and all the wink-wink-nudge-nudge pretending-Kryptos-was-in-charge, while silly, was also kind of flattering. You didn't get many chances to be the star of the show when you lived around a supernova like Bill.

So, Kryptos got calls from Earth from time to time—at least a handful a year—typically from a middle-aged man in a business suit trying to pretend he wasn't giddy about being the guy who'd gotten permission to pull out the candles and contact The Alien.

Kryptos was not in the mood to talk to humans. Humans were why they were in this mess. Humanity could go jump in a lake.

But it wasn't every human's fault that a handful had somehow taken out Bill. And maybe they were calling for a party. Maybe it would cheer him up.

So he sighed again, half heartedly shouted, "Guys—guys, shut up a second, I'm getting a call," and opened up a window to Earth.

His vision was filled with a brown-skinned golden-haired haunted-eyed human who, at the sight of Kryptos, gave him a relieved, face-splitting smile. "H—"

Kryptos hung up.

To reiterate: he took calls from middle-aged men in business suits. That was a naked woman crouched on the floor like an animal.

"Who was it?" Hectorgon asked.

"No one. Some woo-woo witchy type who probably dug up a leaked Fishmason ritual online."

Hectorgon laughed. "I bet it thought it could ask a 'demon' for lottery numbers."

"Sorry, sister, but that's Bill's schtick," Kryptos said. "My number is unlisted for a reason."

Kryptos wondered about Bill's human pals. Well—"pals" was a bit of a stretch—devotees and students. How often did he get calls? And now they couldn't reach him.

Stinks for them. Must be awful, reaching out to someone in another dimension for help and getting nothing back.

####

An ethereal, sourceless voice whispered in Bill's ear, "The all-knowing dream demon you're trying to reach is currently unavailable for visions and prophecies. If this is an emergency, wake up and call your nearest Masonic lodge. Otherwise, please leave your prayers or petitions after the beep." Beep.

Bill stared, jaw dropped, at the empty patch of air where Kryptos had been projecting just a moment ago. After several seconds of mute outrage, Bill said, "Kr... Kryptos. You... I swear, if you don't get back here this SECOND—"

The sheer force of his anger woke him up. His eyes fluttered open to the world of color and humidity and pattering water. He grabbed every towel he could reach, wadded them up, and screamed into them. "KRYPTOS YOU SON OF A— I KNOW YOU NEVER CHECK YOUR VOICEMAIL! AND WERE YOU ON MY THRONE, WERE YOU SITTING ON MY SPECIAL THRONE—!"

He shrieked until his lungs were empty.

####

At sixty minutes exactly, Ford knocked and opened the bathroom door. Bill stood scowling behind it.

Dryly, Ford asked, "Have a pleasant shower?"

Wet hair hanging in tangles, face flushed red, eyes even redder, Bill snapped, "Yeah. Refreshing."

####

"Mabel?"

Mabel glanced down from the stepladder at Bill, then pointedly looked away and continued taping Summerween decorations to the hallway wallpaper. "What."

"Mabel," Bill tried again, a touch more pleading. "O great Shooting Star. My hero. My one and only friend in this hostile universe. Last person who hasn't utterly forsaken me." He leaned on the wall, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead. "The sole illumination in the dark night of my accursed postmortem existence—"

Mabel grudgingly looked at Bill again. "What do you want?"

"Listen: I know I upset you at the mall, and I still need to make it up to you—I do, I do, I just haven't had a chance yet—and you're still a little mad at me, okay—buuut... can you help me make a costume." He pressed his hands together. "Please. I'll owe you one. I'll be in your debt. Just let me dress up for Summerween."

Mabel frowned at him. She frowned a little more. She said, frowning, "You're so lucky I love costumes."

####

(Next week: Summerween part 2!! Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed I'd love to hear from y'all what you think! I've been waiting to get to the Henchmaniacs for a long time. Mainly in the hopes y'all will yell at me for putting Bill through heck again.)

[ovaryacted]

Well let me send some soft!Leon.

Leon is the type of guy to be like “I may have gotten bitten by zombies and thrown against walls but like. That’s still better than period cramps.”

If he’s not away on a mission, I imagine he’d want to just lay in bed with you all day. He gives good snuggles. Gets tea and the heating pad.

But also, I had the hilarious imagine of Leon being real fucking clueless with the emotions of it. You know the meme of the girl over the toilet being pat on the back by a broom? That’s Leon. He’s like “there there” while keeping 10ft away from you.

Unironically if you run out of pads/tampons he probably texts you “what size coochie you wear?” Or whatever. But! If you tell him, that’s the only time you need to because he remembers.

Also, not embarrassed about getting period products. I mean, this guy is built like a house, and attractive as fuck everyone knows he’s picking stuff up for his lady. Probably getting head too let’s be honest.

He also picks up your face snack.

-angsty anon (I guess not angsty this time lol)

EEEEEEK thank you for sending this angsty (not so angsty) anon cause I actually feel like shit at work but this was so cute. Also I know the memes you’re talking about they’re deep in my gallery I can’t find them right now lmao. But yeah let me cook and self indulge cause I can. (And cause the cramps are starting to ramp up).

Disclaimer: I know everyone’s period cycle is different, this is not a one size fits all. I’m speaking generally, mostly about myself but yeah if it doesn’t apply let it fly and that’s okay! Leon would still be a good partner and meet your needs either way. 🫶

Leon to me is the type of guy that would provide comfort and humor whenever you need it and without you having to ask for it. He just cares, that’s all he does really. But of course, he’s aware that when your cycle hits, he has to be more aware of your emotions and what you need. He’s very in tune when it comes to tending to you, but he isn’t afraid to ask so he can give you exactly what you want.

If he isn’t at home, he’d probably have your cycle tracked on his phone so he knows when to send you a gift package or flowers just so you know he’s around. If he’s going on mission, he’d send those things in advance, and when he comes back home he’d bring your favorite food and snacks as a welcome present.

But when he is home and he knows your period is about to kickstart, he instantly goes into house husband mode. He knows the first few days are the toughest and it gets easier over time, but sometimes all you want to do is just stay curled up in bed and sleep the pain off. He’d be right there beside you, giving you tea and pain medication if you ask for it, making sure you have water nearby and a heating pad to help with your comfort. Clothing wise, he gives you his clothes, ones you already stole from him anyway, finding his boxers much more comfortable than the panties you have, and a baggy t-shirt that smells like him to ease your nerves.

He handles the chores in your living space, cleans the place up and does the laundry, plus he gets groceries and cooks if that’s what you request. When he does go out to do the shopping, he asks you what snacks you want, already having some in mind but double checks if you want something specific. It doesn’t matter how ridiculous your cravings are, he’ll give them to you without judgement. You can eat all the junk and sugar you want, so long as it helps with your mood he’ll get it. Or if you want fruits and things that are a bit easier to eat considering your nausea, he’ll get that too.

He buys your feminine products without shame, gets irritated about how expensive they are “because they should be free” according to him, and gets you an extra box for you to have in advance. There may be other people in the section watching him as he finds the exact brand and size you use, not that he cares if he’s being watched, and he can hear your voice in his head talking about it.

Get the all cotton ones with wings, medium-sized. The thicker ones are for overnight, so get me a pack too. Do not get the ones that say light flow or small, those don’t do shit!

Your emotions are all over the place, more sensitive and easily irritable by anything and everything. At times it scares him how fast your mood can change, but he doesn’t judge you for it, you can’t help the way your body behaves. He doesn’t hover over you, comes by to check in, see if you feel any better. If you ask him to cuddle with you, he’ll do that no questions asked, but if you don’t want to be touched, he’ll leave you alone and let you rest. It’s not personal to him, he gets it, somewhat at least. He’ll send you cute text messages with those silly emoticons from the living room, or send you a funny video he saw on social media (it didn’t make you laugh but it’s the thought that counts).

The mental aspects of your cycle can be debilitating at times, and it’ll make you second guess things that shouldn’t be in your head. Leon knows what that’s like, and he’s there for you to talk to if you need it. He’s ready with affirmations, soft words, and constantly tells you that he adores you and loves you. Shit that makes your heart warm and your mind shut up, he just supports you in whatever you need.

Now as for the secret period horniness that sometimes likes to sneak up on you, he’s also willing to provide. It doesn’t happen often, but he knows when it does. When you’re snuggled up into him and start shifting your hips against him, or when your breathing gets a bit shaky the moment his hands come up towards your thighs. He’s on your time, whatever you say goes, and he only does things if you ask for them. So if you say you want to be touched he’ll do it, he’ll caress you and massage your chest to ease the soreness you feel there. If you want to suck him off to appease to your oral fixation, he’ll let you, and happily keep your hair up and praise you along the way. And if you tell him you want to have sex with him, he’ll bring out the towels or propose a shower, whatever you decide he’s fine with. It doesn’t bother him, he’s seen so much blood and gore that this is the last of his concerns. Plus, orgasms help with period cramps so whatever helps you, he’ll do it.

Whatever you need, he’s willing to provide. Thats just the type of man and partner he is.

I need him. Im fucking sad.

[volturiprincess]

Hey I was the one who ranted about period ads. Guess whose time it is 😭 could you write the same idea as that romanians taking care of the reader but this time with Felix. Thank you pookie <3

Life really likes to come at us😐. But I hope this makes up for it💙

He’s prepared 

I can guarantee you he probably has it tracked (like he has a physical calendar because he does not do technology unless its video games)

But when he's busy with training and missions, he has other ways to know 

One week before, you start getting irritated with him for no reason, if not with him then Demetri (he avoids you during that week because he does not like getting yelled at, my poor casanova has dealt with that side of you in the past, lesson learned)

Could be due to him training to much or coming to your shared chambers when your already asleep or just for other ridiculous reason that just leave him flabbergasted and confused

Felix likes to keep the peace between you guys, so if its disrupted by your sudden mood swings he knows what's to come soon

Even when he's busy and does not have time to go out and get you some stuff, he will ask the secretary to go (he is very specific and always makes sure to make the last goodie basket better than the last)

So by the time you start your cycle, he has a cute big basket of all the supplies you might need and of course filled with snacks 

It's a nice way to wake up, even if you already in pain and want the earth to swallow you, the sight of the basket with a gorgeous man holding it brings some relief

If you think that's all he does, you are wrong, my unit of a man has more tricks up his sleeve 

As said before, the day you start, he's there

He guides you to an awaiting shower, the floor decorated with rose petals and candles lit around the bathroom 

In the past he prepared you a bath (he read that heat helps with cramps) but he soon realized you don't like to take a bath during your period (he got a whole ass lecture from you, and even though you felt bad for scolding him he um….well…once you finish that dreadful time of the month, he might of been a bit more rough in bed since you were a bit bratty 🤭, but you of course do not mind, you actually look forward to it, even might do it on purpose)

From there he brings you one of his shirts (smelling just like him) and some sweats (yes to sweatpants)

Depending on how bad your cramps are, he asks you what you are in the mood for, movies or a nice stroll in the gardens?

Usually you pick movies because you get to cuddle with you your teddy bear of a mate and you love the contrast between the heating pad on your stomach and his coldness 

Throughout the week he will get you your favorite meals or cravings

And when you feel up to it, he will have a hand wrapped around you as you walk through the Volturi gardens 

He just loves to spoil you more than he already does, but he always makes sure to make this time more special than ever

Damn you, you gentle gorgeous giant 

[luminouslywriting]

How do you think the guys would react to you telling him that you’re ready to try for a baby? Like back then people got straight to it after marriage but maybe you decided to wait a bit for him to adjust back but now you feel ready and him trying to decide if he should be excited about fatherhood or about fucking you 24/7

I'm assuming this is for the Masters of the Air men?? If not, let me know and I'd be happy to do a BoB version! Reminder that my requests are open for MOTA, The Pacific, and BoB! Also someone asked for headcanons on how Rosie would react to finding out you’re pregnant, so this is also fulfilling that request!!

Cut for length, more under the cut, spice obviously included:

Bucky Egan:

-Listen, he's the type of man who if you say you're ready to try for a baby, it does not matter what he has going on. Oh he's about to head to a work meeting? He's calling in sick. Oh dinner is cooking? Not anymore. He will drop everything to literally carry you to the nearest surface possible.

-Is more excited about the 24/7 sex than the actual fatherhood aspect of things (at least for now). He just won't know what to make of fatherhood until it's there lol.

-Keeps better track of your ovulation cycle than you do and has a higher sex drive, so he's absolutely the type of man who makes you lay on the bed with your knees up for a bit after sex because he wants to be sure that things stick.

-Probably a master at seduction at random times of day or the week to try and ensure that you get pregnant as quickly as possible. He's ready and prepared.

-Also be ready for sure much praise kink and to be breeded because these are his kinks and he's ready. Going back to the somnophilia thing I mentioned back in the domestic headcanons, he's using that to help things along as much as possible haha.

Gale Cleven:

-Was comfortable waiting to have kids until you were ready and so when he tells you, he's happy about it and nervous. I've expanded on that in the Gale Cleven Pregnancy Headcanons, but as far as the trying goes, he's going to give it his best efforts.

-He's reading up on all of these pregnancy books to try and figure out the best tricks for falling pregnant in order to help you.

-Insatiable with the 24/7 sex and is even hornier than normal; baby Cleven was absolutely conceived on the kitchen table and you can't convince me otherwise

-Gale is a sensible man who is efficient when trying to achieve something so he'll try to orgasm as many times as possible and finish inside of you as much as he can.

-Gets really turned on thinking about you being pregnant and this spurs him into some heavy praise and encouragement to keep efforts up and positive.

Robert Rosenthal:

-He's thrilled, lightly put. He's ready for kids literally whenever you give the word—and if you just so happen to tell him right before a dinner with his parents, well a quickie was definitely on the table.

-And then there was the public teasing during the dinner, and then he absolutely ravished you for hours and hours afterwards because he wants that to be your reality ASAP.

-Is both thrilled about being a dad and the 24/7 sex. He definitely makes it into a sort of game with the two of you, a sort of cat and mouse chase so that things are kept surprising and fun rather than just trying to get pregnant.

-Definitely buys you all sorts of maternity stuff before you're even pregnant because he is so in love with the thought of you being pregnant haha.

-Also the type of man to watch your diet really closely and ensures that you're taking prenatal vitamins and all of that.

John Brady:

-It's an accident, I'm sorry. This man probably figures out that you're pregnant before you even figure it out—the girl math is mathing and he's seeing all sorts of pregnancy symptoms

-And then that causes more of a 24/7 pregnancy kink for him where he just constantly wants to have sex with you or keep filling you up because you take him so well.

-He's really excited about being a dad and he's even more body positive about you being pregnant

-The car sex in the Brady Wagon DOES NOT continue, because he's too worried about making sure that positioning is comfortable and you're alright, but that's cool, that's fine—there's just definitely more sex ONCE you're pregnant than there was before lol

-Absolutely the type to skip out on a public function or leave early because he wants to take care of you and he's gotta keep his baby's mama happy and satisfied.

[skittishlikefromthewar]

my favorite headcanon to ponder is that as soon as they enter the Champions League - and it becomes official that this level of cardiovascular training is going to become Jamie's new longterm normal - Roy immediately bans him from running on pavement (so that he'll still have cartilage in his knees by age 60, and because no trainer ever cared enough to do that for Roy and he's gonna do better by Jamie if it kills him).

However...

--they can't limit all his running to a treadmill or track either, because that's a GREAT way to get hurt when he's on the pitch. 

Cue a hilarious montage of Jamie biking to some park, folding the bike to carry over a shoulder while running through said park, hopping back on the bike once he reaches the road, biking until he reaches a grass/dirt track along the river, running until the dirt track runs out, biking again, etc.

Cut to a shot of Roy frowning studiously because This Isn't Working Out, before he turns to Jamie and dead-serious, he asks, "Can you run the pavement on your hands?"

And Jamie is 😭😭😭 on the inside but verbally he's just "uh....yeah! Yeah sure I mean yeah no don't think so but yeah sure yeah why not I'll give it a go?"

Cut to Jamie managing seven whole haphazard steps in a handstand before, "aiyeeee..." and a close-up of Roy cringing with his fists over his mouth. 

Cut to Roy frowning studiously again. This time Jamie's got a big abrasion on his cheek. Again, deadly serious-

"Could you cartwheel the asphalt bits?"

Cut to Jamie cartwheeling over and over and over like. well, like a wheel, making good speed...

in a very much NOT straight line, until he cartwheels right into a bush.

"Well." Roy's got his studious frown, Jamie's got his scraped cheek and leaves in his hair. "I think we're out of options."

And Jamie's face falls. "Coach no. Please I can figure it out. Just need to keep trying things don't I?"

But Roy's shaking his head. 

And Jamie just looks sadder and sadder, and he starts to look a little scared. "Coach really I can just run the pavement like I used to it's f-"

"Nope. I'm calling it."

We linger on Jamie's devastated face. 

Quick cut to Jamie's torso. He's running on the road. He reaches the park. He runs through the park and reaches pavement again. He runs the pavement until he reaches the dirt track by the river. He runs the dirt track until it ends, transitioning straight onto the road once again. Scene cuts to him panting at Richmond Green once he's all done. He slowly straightens up, turning to Roy (who it's revealed bicycled the whole way with him) with the angriest, most murderous glare we've ever seen cross Jamie's face.

Roy breaks into his first grin of the entire montage. 

We finally pan down to Jamie's feet

--clad in every runner's favorite pseudo-orthopedic clown shoes. They let you run on a beautiful, cartilage-preserving cloud (edit: ASSUMING you don't immediately let your stride get sloppy, which people often do! that's important, can't believe i didn't say it initially!) and not even Jamie can make them look slick. 

*This post dedicated to my own hoka-related humiliations. They're lovely at what they're designed for but oyyyye. tbf hoka does make slightly less gigantic, less hideous models (ones that visually limit themselves to the type of loud garishness that Jamie would actually probably adore). But also tbf, you KNOW Roy would insist on Jamie cycling through the dumbest, ugliest, most embarrassing, "it's yer fuckin knees, Tartt come on!" models he could find. 

(Bonus: Practically overnight, Jamie suddenly becomes an expert in every dirt, grass, and otherwise natural running trail in all of London because as long as there's no concrete or asphalt anywhere on his run, he can go back to his normal low drop shoes.) (Edit: which, to reiterate, is a much better choice for both your joints and feet, than running pavement in hokas!)

[bonny-kookoo]

Kaleidoscope: Softness

In which you and Yoongi spend some alone time, and what used to be an intimidating and serious Yorian suddenly turns soft and gentle.

Tags/Warnings: poly!AU, Alien!AU, strangers to lovers, fluffy comfort, yoong looks all mean but he's a closeted cinnamon roll, soft hours

Length: Mid

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

It's quiet except for the noises of Yoongi moving around in the kitchen, while you sit at the table, legs swinging back and forth a little. You're spending today almost entirely just with him- both Jimin and Jungkook busy, leaving you in the oldest's care for today.

He shakes the bottle after putting your supplement powder in, and it's now that you notice that this is what he does.. all the time. He keeps track of your health, makes sure to buy foods that are good for you, and probably knows every brand of human-supplements on the market.

"Here." He says, putting your water bottle with the pink-ish liquid in front of you, and you immediately open it. Yoongi had complained in the beginning that you didn't want to actually take your supplements at all- eventually figuring out your ways of trying to avoid them at all costs, though after Jungkook had mentioned that there might be a reason for it, Yoongi had tasted the bland powder himself. Ever since then he mixes it with some fruity juice concentrate to make it taste better- and by now, the problem is simply forgotten. "What do you wanna eat today?" He asks absentmindedly, wiping the kitchen counter clean, before he turns around to face you.

While you still don't talk, it doesn't mean that you don't communicate. And sometimes Yoongi genuinely forgets that you don't speak- because by now, he himself has absolutely no issue understanding you at all.

You draw a shape on the table with your finger, one he easily recognizes as a heart. "You can't eat your favorite every day. What about something simple then?" He asks again, and you huff to yourself, making him chuckle.

For a long time, you thought Yoongi was just.. annoyed by your presence. But these days, with reactions like these, and that warm glimmer in his eyes, you realize that that's not the case.

He likes you just as much as the other two do.

"Don't make that face. You liked what jungkook made for himself last week, so I'm gonna make that as lunch, alright?" He offers, and you nod eagerly. Jungkook gets scolded by Yoongi often for eating randomly and sometimes even in the middle of the night- the Yorian having trouble adjusting to your human body's circadian rhythm. You yourself need time as well, considering that on this planet, there are no 24 hours in the day- but 30. It throws you off a lot of times during the day, but you've been slowly adapting to the normal day and night cycle this planet goes through.

Unbeknownst to you, it's Yoongi who's making these changes easy on you.

Having bought black-out curtains to keep the sun out of your room, opening them earlier and earlier each week so you can naturally adjust to wake up yourself. And every time you're still clearly not sleepy enough to go to bed yet, he will entertain you until you are to stretch the time until your body becomes tired. Jimin and Jungkook have both noticed already- constantly teasing the oldest about his caring behavior.

He's acting like a mate by now, rather than a simple caregiver to you.

"Hey-" Yoongi calls out when you get up to leave the kitchen, holding something out to you. "-but this stays between you and me." He warns with no actual threat, as you eagerly grab the sweet fruit snack he'd given you.

Though he's left a little bashful from the kiss you place against his cheek before running off.

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 6

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Toddxfemale!Reader

Warnings: talk of violence and sex trafficking

Summary: YN goes in search of information on Robin

Notes: how many chapters/words do I need for something to be considered 'slow burn'? They haven't even spoken yet and I'm 12k words into this. I never write real slow burn so I'm sure when I hit that mark, any opinions? Thank you to those who have liked this! Comments/critiques are loved and appreciated!

You needed to get some work done before you went hunting for rich billionaires again. Your roommates had returned from their trip to find you listening to your loud ‘Dead Boyfriend’ playlist as they called it and searching everything from reddit to the dark web for information on several leads around the city. The GCPD was trying to hunt down Black Mask and finally get some information they could use to arrest him and keep him in Blackgate for a long time. You were doing your part by finding accountants, money lenders, hedge fund managers, pretty much anything that might lead to tax evasion because if there is anything you know about America, the IRS will lock you up forever if you forget to declare a penny. As ‘Afraid’ by The Neighborhood blared out your speakers your friend, Jocelyn peeked in the room.

“Are you busy?” she asked though she knew you were. You threw her an annoyed look and paused the music, locking your screen. She rolled her eyes. “Guess you finished actually working. What is it this time? Did you find a rumor about a zombie in Metropolis or something?”

“Fuck off, I’m working on a new lead,” you said. She grunted. Your friends were a little tired of you and your assumption that Robin was somehow alive. They thought you had just gotten lucky, one of the rare ‘double soulmate’ people. It happened to one in every billion people or so and they were sure that was why you were seeing color again, not some crazy idea that Robin had come back from the dead.

“I have someone you could meet, they’d be really good for you, and you know that you don’t have to be with your soulmate,” she said. You growled, the sound low and bitter. “Stop it, give her a chance…”

“I’ve given them all chances…” you started, the same argument coming back. You did this every few weeks with both of your roommates, they had someone who would be perfect for you, you tried for a while, then you found any and all reasons to leave them, listing them out until the other person was angry enough to leave you. You hated leaving people but seemed to relish in making them abandon you, that was a cycle you understood. You walking away wasn’t in the cards.

“You’ve ruined them,” Jocelyn shot back, and you just rolled your eyes. “But fine, keep searching for a ghost, a person who didn’t even want you to begin with.” That was a low blow, and she knew it the moment it was out of her mouth. The color drained from her face; she was sputtering as you packed up your laptop. You needed to get out. You would drop off what you had on Black Mask’s latest addition to his team, an assistant with ties to the Triad, and then go to Wayne manor. You had to admit she had a point. Robin had found her, probably got a better look at her than she at him, and then nothing. Either he was scared that knowing him would get her hurt or he didn’t like what he had seen, and considering her track record of foster homes, pointless romances that went nowhere, and friends that left her behind, she figured it was the second option. She knew she was a lot to deal with, too much anger and sarcasm, not enough sweet and gentle. Maybe Robin would have liked that if he’d given her a chance. She shook the thoughts from her mind as she walked down the street towards Old Gotham and the GCPD.

The deputy was pleased to see you, sending you straight up to Gordon. You glanced back to thank the deputy and noticed him on his phone. You chuckled; someone was going to get in trouble for that. Jim Gordon was notorious for taking phones off of deputies when they weren’t on patrol. You didn’t need your phone in the precinct, there were other phones, and if there was something so secret you couldn’t say it out loud then wait until you were off duty. It was supposed to build trust between the officers or something, you weren’t sure. All you knew was you weren’t surprised when a higher-ranking officer came and snatched the phone from the deputy. You knocked on Jim’s door and he told you to enter.

“YN!” he said with a smile. You smiled back. If anyone in this city could feel like a father to you it was Jim Gordon. He’d taken a chance on you back when you were on the streets pickpocketing. You had been able to steal a cop car right from the precinct’s garage and when confronted about it in interrogation later you had also stolen the handcuff keys right off the arresting patrolman. Instead of throwing you into a hole Jim had been impressed, said you reminded him of someone, and hired you. After the snipe from your roommate, hearing him so happy to see you made the burn feel better.

“Hey Jim, I have some information you might be interested in,” you said, handing over the USB with what you had just gathered. He put it onto his computer, looking over the data, nodding slowly.

“This is great, we can use this. This assistant has an interesting record, might be able to turn them into an informant if we play our cards right,” he said. You smiled, always glad to help him. The rest of the precinct could burn but Jim was a good guy, hell even the Batman knew he was trustworthy. That gave you an idea.

“Jim, can I ask you something?” you said, voice quiet. He looked up at you and you swallowed hard. “I know you work with the Batman sometimes, but did you ever know any of the Robins?” He stood, eyeing you. If you hadn’t been working with him for literally years, he might have kicked you out, told you that your services were no longer needed, but considering you had never asked anything about Batman before he hoped you weren’t just fishing for information. If he only knew how much you already found out about the vigilante.

“Sure, I’ve worked with all of them a few times, why do you ask?” he said, motioning for you to sit in the chair by his desk. You sat and he joined you.

“The second Robin, he saved me once, before I left school, I was taken hostage by to goons of somebody and he was the one who saved me, got me to the ambulance. I was just wondering if you knew what he was like? It’s been on my mind lately,” you said, trying to sound casual. Jim thought back, a stormy look on his face. You wondered what kind of memories this man had of young boys, pretty much children, taking on the lowest scum in the city. Wondered if he ever thought that Batman was unnecessarily cruel by pushing them into that life.

“I remember he was very different from the first, the first Robin was a chatterbox, always there with a joke or charming remark, very good with civilians,” he started. “The second was quieter, didn’t talk to me much, let Batman do it. The few times I met with him alone he would say what he needed to and then leave. But honestly, he was probably more caring than the first. The first one was great, did care about the people of the city, but the second one seemed to care about the lifeblood of the city, how it was going to get better. While Batman and the other Robins seemed to think that anyone could be saved, that the city could be saved with kindness and maybe a naïve love of what it used to be before Joker and Bane and all the rest, the second one would get his hands dirty. I never told Batman, but I found a Batarang in the neck of a sex trafficker who was selling underage girls to the highest bidder. That was the kind of person the second Robin was.” He sounded conflicted, like he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing to kill that man. You didn’t see how taking a man who touched children off the streets was bad but kept your mouth shut, offering a tight smile.

“Thank you for that, I was just curious,” you said. “I need to get going, have another appointment, but as always Jim it was great to see you.” You stood, grabbing your bag.

“You should come by my place sometime, meet my daughter, she’s your age and I think you two would be good friends. Maybe meet her boyfriend too, you look like you could use more good people in your life,” he said suddenly. This was new. He’d never pushed his daughter or boyfriend before. You vaguely knew of them, had seen the picture on his desk of a pretty red head in a wheelchair and her equally pretty boyfriend in her lap, laughing, but he’d never talked about them. You felt a smile creep to your face. He must have been worried about you after asking about such a weird subject.

“Ya, that actually sounds nice,” you said, thinking about the argument with your roommate. Maybe trying to make new friends wasn’t a bad idea. You could try and if they decided to ghost you it wouldn’t matter. If anything, you were used to being left.

Your next appointment was at Wayne manor where you walked right up to the gate and rang the bell, waving at the camera. You figured this would be easiest, the tour was too expensive to do again, and you didn’t really want to come up with an elaborate plan to break into the place, but you could if they didn’t let you in now. Luckily the gate swung open, and you walked up the long driveway, Alfred waiting for you by the front door. He looked you over, seeming to listen to someone in his ear before letting you in.

“Did you scan me for weapons?” you asked dryly. He simply led you into a parlor and asked if you would like some tea or coffee. “O, tea would be great, thank you.” It had been a while since you’d had good tea and you assumed Bruce Wayne probably imported leaves straight from China. Alfred left and soon Bruce Wayne walked in, sitting down across from you on a high-backed chair. It struck you as funny that he looked like a king in a throne and you laughed, making him narrow his eyes. “Good afternoon your highness,” you said before you could think. You thought you saw an uptick on his mouth, but it disappeared. “O lord smile sometimes Bruce, your face muscles need a workout too.” That actually made him smile, but just a little. “Better.”

“What do you want?” he asked as Alfred set the tea tray in front of you, pouring you a cup. You sipped it plain, enjoying the hints of vanilla.

“I want to ask you about the second Robin,” you said. He sighed, seemingly expecting that answer. “Look, I’ve been searching for you for years just to get to know what he was like. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering about him. Please, just, why did you take him in? Was he your actual son?”

“No, he was adopted, and I took him in because, well, he made me smile. Crime alley, he was around ten at the time, little skinny thing clearly living either on the streets or in one of the crappy apartments in the area. He tried to steal my car,” he said. Your eyes widened.

“Wait, a car like the one I stole, or, the other one?” you asked, not sure if you should say ‘Batmobile’ out loud.

“The other one,” Bruce confirmed. “He was brave, reckless, but brave. I smiled for the first time since my first Robin left to be his own man. So I took in J…” he stopped and looked at you. You shook your head, still not ready for his real name. “So I took in Robin, found out his parents were dead, well assumed dead. Penguin took his father in for some gambling debts, he wasn’t ever found. His mother died of an overdose, leaving Robin alone. I raised him, trained him, made sure he was capable as well as brave and smart.” You felt your heart ache. Bruce Wayne looked haunted talking about this, and you felt the hatred you normally held for him ebb a little. You motioned for him to keep going. He took a deep breath. “Robin was many things; he was angry and aggressive as much as he was kind and passionate. He hated when criminals would hurt children, hated it in a way that I was scared of.” You thought to Jim’s story of the batarang, the memory making you a little proud. “He was reckless and quiet, but funny and could devour an entire library of books in just a few days. Alfred gave him cooking lessons and I gave him driving lessons. He was my son.” You swallowed hard, trying to fight the tears the welled as Bruce spoke of him. He sounded wonderful.

“What happened to him?” you asked. Bruce looked at you, really studying you. “Please…” you hated that it sounded like begging, but you had to know what actually happened. There were so many rumors about the death of the second Robin. You had to know the truth.

“Joker. We were doing work in another country, tracking Joker to a drug smuggling operation. I was an idiot, too high on my own importance. I didn’t stop to question why Joker had gone himself just to pick up pills and weapons. We arrived and Robin, he went to scout the warehouse where the trade off was supposed to take place while I went to a town in the south where the theft was taking place. I didn’t realize that this was the Joker’s plan, get us separated. He didn’t know who would be going to warehouse but it didn’t matter, he wanted blood.” Bruce looked at his hands and you noticed how tired he looked, exhausted of his own legend. Being the Batman must weigh heavy on him. “Robin got there, and the Joker was ready. I’m not sure what happened entirely, there was a bomb and when I found his body.” He couldn’t finish. You heard a sniffle in the doorway and turned to see Alfred openly weeping. This seemed to give you permission and the tears you had been holding in poured down your own cheeks. You wiped them quickly, hating being vulnerable in front of anyone let alone people you had only just met.

“Thank you, for um, telling me all this,” you said. “You know I never got to talk to him, but I think about him, did he ever want to meet me?” You really hoped the answer wasn’t going to break your heart. Bruce looked at you and if he could he looked more guilty.

“That was my fault too,” he said. “I thought he was too young to balance his life as Robin and having a soulmate. He didn’t only want to meet you, he wanted to watch over you. He did watch over you. I used to catch him sneaking out in the early morning so he could make sure you got to school alright, he would come back late for patrol carrying empty wrappers of Big Belly Burger because he couldn’t imagine letting his car get cluttered. He may not have met you but you were always on his mind.” You closed your eyes, but it was impossible to stop the flew of tears. You stood.

“Thank you again Bruce, I’ll show myself out,” you said, leaving before either man could do anything. You left the manor gates and stood for a moment trying to collect yourself. You saw the squad car pulling up and frowned as the deputy from the station climbed out.

“Can I ask what you’re doing here m’am?” he asked. You frowned, something felt very off right now. You stepped back, going for the switchblade in your pocket, but he was faster, the shocks from the taser going through you. You dropped the knife and collapsed onto all fours. You had been tasered before but that didn’t make it fun. The officer used this time to yank you up by your hair with one hand, the other pulling off your backpack and tossing it over the fence into the Wayne compound. He must have figured no one would notice with all that land, at least not until the landscaping was done. He cuffed you and shoved you in the car, making you hit your head on the roof. With cloudy vision from the hit you watched him start driving towards the Narrows. This was bad, very bad.

[mooodyblue]

How would elvis take care of his girl on her period? Could be a little reader or not <3

Currently on mine and your post are helping so much 😭

you got it !!! hope you feel better <3 mine get rough!!! will literally be hunched on the floor crying 😫 ty for the request! hope this makes u feel a little better !

wc: 815

every single day you check the calendar on the wall, keeping track of your own cycle to prevent any mystery stains appearing out of nowhere in bed or on the couch. except this week, she decided to come a little early and much stronger than ever. thankfully you caught it in time, especially with elvis having his friends over today.

there was a part of you that wanted to beg elvis to keep the house empty today. you wanted elvis all to yourself but he was just so happy to have his friends over.

you felt like you were dying. like someone was taking your insides and squeezing them with all their might. but you took it like a champ, pain still clear as day on your face as you smoothed out your dress in the mirror. you checked yourself throughly in case you were leaking, hopefully you weren't. but lord–you felt awful. if you felt it, you probably looked it. you stared into the mirror a little longer than you'd planned, not even realizing elvis was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“and you say i hog the mirror.” he joked.

you turned your head to look at him, sighing. “sorry.”

he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. his warmth brought you much needed comfort, easing your pain slightly. “you alright, honey?”

the question made you burst into tears, shaking your head. you didn't even know why you were crying, it wasn't really that big of a deal.

elvis panicked, turning you around to face him as he cupped your face. “hey, what’s wrong? why the tears, baby?”

“i’m hurting so bad.” you sobbed, muffling your face in his shoulder.

elvis was taken back by the sudden sobs, unsure of what to do. opting for rubbing your back gently. “what's…what are you-” oh. he looked in the mirror, noticing the small, subtle blood stain on the back of your dress that only he could see.

he pulled away from you to shut his bedroom door. nobody was allowed upstairs to his bedroom, but it didn't hurt to be extra careful. he looked at you nervously, “you’re..uh..the back of your dress…”

“fuck–seriously?” you turned around in the mirror again, pinching your dress to see the stain.

the commotion downstairs only made you more upset, not wanting to deal with anyone else today. elvis held his hand up, “alright. here's what we’re gonna do.” he took you by the shoulders. “you’re gonna get yourself comfortable and get right back in bed, i’m gonna go deal with the guys. you tell me what you need ‘n i’ll bring it back up here.”

you wiped your tears, sniffling. “no, it's okay. i’ll just meet you downstairs.”

“honey,” he said sternly. “it's not okay. i don't like seein’ my girl like this.” he pressed his lips against your forehead. “is it bad this time around?”

you nodded sadly, “it’s awful. i feel awful.”

“well, you definitely don’t look it.” he grinned, brushing your hair back.

that brought a smile to your face, his words making you feel a little more at ease. “funny.”

“just tellin’ the truth. now, what do you need? i can run and get you whatever you want.”

“um…” you thought for a moment.

“you good on pads? what about somethin’ for the pain? water? what about-”

you placed a hand over his mouth to shut him up, “elvis, i’m okay. really. i think i’m fine.” you chuckled, removing your hand. “thank you.”

“alright, alright. i’ll–” he was interrupted with the yell of his name down the steps, causing him to roll his eyes. he made his way to the door, “you just get your pretty self right in bed and i’ll be up shortly to join ya. imma take care of you today, that's a promise.” he winked before going downstairs to deal with his friends.

doing as he said, you got yourself cleaned up and into to a fresh pair of pajamas, getting yourself cozy in bed as another wave of pain rushed through your body. elvis returned shortly, frowning at you hunched over in bed gripping at the sheets in pain. “and you said you were fine.” he sighed, pills in his hand and glass of water in the other. you took it immediately, downing the pills and water without any hesitation. “easy, girl.” he rubbed your back.

you handed him the glass, “i need you to rip out my uterus.”

he laughed, “yeah….uh..not doin' that. sorry, darlin’.”

you whined, making grabby hands for him. “want cuddles then.”

“that i can do.” he dimmed the lights in the room, turning the tv on and got under the covers with you. he wrapped his arms securely around you, rubbing at the sore areas. “feelin’ better?”

“much better.”

[classificationhell]

How would Adam treat a little? What if it was his little one?

Adam, whether he likes it or not, is a Beta Caregiver, so Littles are kind of his personal weakness. He does have a heart underneath that exterior. Yeah, he doesn't see Sinners as even remotely the same as Winners even though they are literally human souls, and he is a staunch misogynist, but he didn't exactly have an example to follow, he just happened to be the first dickhead to have the thought that men should be the head of household. However, that also means he was the provider, the one making sure there was a means to eat and kept the family protected. Clearly he became more lax and chased flights of fancy in heaven where he didn't have to work for anything, but anybody will stagnate or worse deteriorate morally, emotionally, and intellectually if there is no real push for them to be better and heaven is the pinnacle of that. Every need met and catered to and Winners don't need to worry about falling no matter what? You bet your ass prolonged exposure to this setting would fuck even the best person up to the worst parts of their character, and Adam is literally the oldest soul in heaven.

I'm guessing for the first while he'd be alone and would be told about his second wife's betrayal (if he didn't already know, there's this whole thing about Cain being the son of the serpent if you wanna know more Google it but this combined with the fact Lucifer implied he also had sex with Eve leads me to believe it could've somehow happened while they were alive, buuuut there's a whole other tangent there because they state Adam was the first human soul but then does that mean Abel didn't get into heaven or was his soul waiting for Adam do Cain and Abel even exist in the universe?!) [[For the purpose of this AU, they exist, and Abel just waited for his father at the gate because he didn't want to go in without anyone he knew there. However, for whatever reason, they've grown apart and don't see each other anymore.]]

Ehehe, sorry about that massive tangent above. This is the first Adam ask, and there's kinda some groundwork to cover for this to even make sense for a lot of people. Anyhow, back on track after his second wife's betrayal he would be in no hurry to get anybody to try and fill in any sort of spot as someone he genuinely cares about and needs him and all that. Hence, he becomes something of a playboy. Also, being the first human soul in heaven and finding out about the secondary gender and designation system he wouldn't properly understand it, all he knows is that he's a fucking Beta cuck and by the time reassigning treatment for it comes along there's already too many people here for him to just go in discreetly so he's stuck using artificial hormones and things he can get under the table through two or three parties before reaching him so nobody would ever know. Over half of his "I'm the original dick" bullshit is literally just this front he puts up to keep the facade that he's an Alpha. He even uses injections to give himself a fake rut at the same time a normal cycle would happen. His avoidance of connection leads him to staying away from places where he might bump into Littles leaving him to joining a band that plays at the strip and bar joints (it's probably tamer than hell but you're really telling me there's no one in heaven who's a good soul but just horny or likes the occasional drink? Like I get that those who indulge in excess are guilty of the sin(s or a combination) of Gluttony, Lust, and /or Greed but like once their up there you're telling me it's all ice cream shops and petting zoos and singing? Especially in this version? I mean, at what point does fun become hedonistic or overindulgence? Can you have no sex except vanilla behind closed bedroom doors? Boy, if I got redeemed, I'd be clawing my way back down extermination or no if you're telling me BDSM is outlawed. XD I am lowkey tired while writing this, so sorry for the obscene amount of tangents, cursing, and odd tone) just so he can avoid them. When Lute comes, he has someone to project his needs of caring for someone onto even though Lute is an Alpha Neutral. (90 percent of the exorcists are Alphas actually and it simultaneously passes him off, because why the fuck isn't he an Alpha, and gives him a power rush since he commands them easily and they're eating out of the palm of his fucking hand.) Granted he's not the best at it, but he's trying and also Lute is a bit much for even him at times, plus she's the only one who will correct him whenever he's wrong or about to do or say something completely stupid so he kinda hates that even if it is very rare.

Anyway, by present day he's so far pushed back his actual instinctual needs to care for someone that the very first Little, Sinner or Winner, that touches him his Caregiver is going to bond with and he's going to be stuck with them. If they're a Sinner he's sneaking them into heaven and hiding them away and at first he fucking sucks but he can't stand to see them crying especially when regressed so he gets better pretty quickly. If they're a Winner he's better to them but still somewhat resentful they're harshing his whole unattached Alpha male stud vibe he had going on. It'd be a learn to be better type story. If Lucifer found out he might be very concerned because he knows the kind of man Adam has become and he wouldn't trust the man with a goldfish, let alone a Little. (But that's a story for another time)

Anyway hope that all made sense and wasnt offensive or anything somehow I'm literally falling asleep typing.

TLDR: Adam wouldn't go within ten feet of a Little if he could help it, but when he has one of his own more and more of the man he used to be is awakened and he becomes a better Caregiver if not person overall.

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

It’s so hard to pick from your WIP list!!! Can I hear more about nightmares, diamonds, and bdhb-fairground date? (And bdhb-smut if you wanna 😂)

It seems greedy to ask about FOUR options for the WIP game (that is more than a third of the options on offer!) but seeing as @probadbatch also asked about the Beach Days and Hair Braiding series, I shall indulge you :P

Nightmares is your own request anyway, so you know the premise! It's based off a throwaway line in "Forget I asked", and will eventually result in Hunter being there when Crosshair wakes from his nightmares, even if their own relationship is still rocky at the time. But you can't have Crosshair being comforted by Hunter without contrasting it with the time he has spent alone...

Crosshair woke with a flinch, arms instinctively coming up to shield his head. Protect his eyes. His enhancement made him useful, an asset. It was the only thing keeping him from decommissioning. No. Wait. This wasn't Kamino. Panting to full wakefulness as tremors of adrenaline shot through his limbs, Crosshair peeled himself up from the hard cot and steadied himself with a palm on the wall. The sleek rasp of durasteel scraped under his clawed fingers. Breathing through his mouth, he tasted the chemical tang of disinfectant in the recycled air. If he listened, he could hear the erratic night-cycle breathing of other prisoners in cells out of view of his own. Blinking away the last vestiges of the nightmare, his vision cleared enough to focus on the barred gate that sealed him in. He let his gaze track over the scuffs and pits he knew by heart, those small details intimately familiar to him. He’d had nothing to do all this time except stare at the wall, trying to stay sane even as despair eroded his will to do so.

TechPhee Diamonds is inspired by a conversation/challenge to find a way to feature my own Specialist Subject in a fanfic somehow! So what better way than to have Tech and Phee debating the merits of natural vs synthetic diamonds?

Of course Tech is arguing that chemically, physically, optically, a synthetic diamond is identical to its naturally occurring counterpart. Phee just doesn't see the romance in it - not compared to a natural treasure of the earth, grown millions of years ago under the ground, then brought to the surface in a volcanic eruption and weathered from it's host rock for some lucky person to find.

In the end, she promises that if he gets her a big enough diamond, she won't even ask where it came from :P

Beach Days series below the cut! (Cloneshipping here, don't like? Don't click!)

I mean firstly credit also goes to my co-creator @ninjadeathblade because you wouldn't have had this series at all without them!

I was asked about the BDHB series last time this game went round so you can find a bit more info Here :)

As for my current WIPs? We're half way through Fairground Date; the rest of the planned chapters are 5: Drop Tower, 6: Splashdown/Sideshow Games, 7: Tunnel of Love and 8: Fireworks. Sneak peek for upcoming chapter 'Drop Tower' below :P

“Remind you of waiting to drop into a combat zone?” the other clone asked, his voice a low rumble, Hunter could only pick his words out thanks to his enhanced senses – this was clearly a comment Crosshair was making for his ears alone, not as general conversation. He shivered as Cross’ long fingers skimmed across the skin of his palm, sensitive despite years of callouses. Despite how small the point of contact was, it set up a delicious feeling throughout his entire body. “That’s how I felt… waiting to come and see you today,” the sniper continued, lips barely moving. He was facing straight ahead, but the gentle action of his hand tracing Hunter’s told him he had his full attention. “How I’ve felt every time I thought about you since… that night.”

Interlude (505) and Laundry Day are officially in development as the next 2 stories after Fairground Date. It's probably going to be a while before any of the disparate snippets in the WIP doc currently titled 'BDHB smut' reach the story but I certainly don't plan for it to stay as cute hand-holding forever...

"Fuck." Hunter bit out the oath, tears welling and beading on his lashes as he scrunched his eyes closed. "Cross, it's too intense..." Crosshair stilled their bodies, waiting for a moment as Hunter gasped. "Do you want to stop?" "No," he whispered brokenly, pressing his forehead to Crosshair's. Fighting the urge to move, Crosshair stayed where he was, long fingers pressing divots into Hunter's hips but waiting for the signal to continue. After a moment Hunter hiccoughed something that sounded on the edge of a sob, and Crosshair drew his head back in soft horror. "You're crying," he rasped, voice curling with guilt. "Hunter, we don't have to do this-" "I want to." Hunter cut him off, a laugh shuddering through him as he lifted his arm from Cross' shoulder, swiping his forearm across his face to dry his tears. "I want you." There was a note of self-frustration as he shook his head. "It's just..." He trailed off, lifting his face to fix Crosshair with a gaze that glowed with devotion. "It's you. It's really you." After a moment Crosshair moved his hands on Hunter's sides, a soothing stroke. "You're okay. I've got you."

Listen smut is just a vehicle for two characters to have a really strong connection to each other, by the time they reach this point the boys have been through a lot together to get this far. I have been staring at this for far too long agonising over what to share from this wip; there's definitely *sexier* stuff than this but their eventual, emotional, long-awaited first-time seemed like the best option :)

[comfy-whumpee]

Jane: Interlude

Whumptober 21 - found family. CN: BBU, missing person search.

-

It took far, far too long for her to realise. She needed to do a head count every morning. She needed to keep better track of who was in the house. She should have known immediately if someone had gone. She should have their trust enough that they wouldn’t disappear in the night. She should know them well enough to know where and why they had disappeared.

She should never have given up on Boo.

The thoughts crowded in a vicious cycle in her head as she drove into town with Tenten in the passenger seat. He’d insisted on coming even though she’d rather face her abject failure alone. He was probably the only one she’d bring. He could go out alone, and talk to strangers on an even footing. He could ask around while she scouted further afield and made calls. Mrs Kaur was coming up to help, as was Neeta, who thankfully had a day off. Nobody else was able to come. Nobody else could help her, and she couldn’t know whether Boo had left on purpose, so filing a police report was useless.

It was all her fault. She had brought Jane back. She had disrupted the house. She had thrown something new into the mix. She hadn’t asked. She hadn’t checked with them. She had assumed everything was fine and gone to bed happy that she’d helped someone.

It’s all my fault, she imagines telling Dr Cerasale when she sees him next, for her fucking counselling that she got for her fucking broken family. Well, look at her now. She’s broken another one.

You were responsible for them, Dr Cerasale says back, in her head. He wouldn’t say it in real life but she’d fucking deserve it if he did. Just like you were responsible for your son.

Tenten is silent. He probably understands what happened. She’s let him down, as well. He’ll feel less safe at the shelter now, because of her.

“Let me know if you want to go back,” she tells him as they park. “Call me if you want to, for any reason.”

She’s given him a phone. He’s tucked it into his jacket, and merely nods at her. She doesn’t know how he isn’t terrified, but she’s glad he’s not. Maybe he’ll break down later. She’ll probably miss that, too.

She’s been in Boo’s room and confirmed all their things were left behind. It’s proof that they were driven to leave. This wasn’t planned.

Maybe they know Jane. Maybe she reminds them of someone. Maybe they thought she would take their place. She doesn’t know. She knows so little about them, and she’s been so complacent.

The sun stings her eyes. As soon as she went up to get them for breakfast and found their room empty, she’s been on the move. She searched the house. She searched the garden. She ran through the lanes near the house, imagining them passed out, injured, dead in the hedges. She covered miles through sheer panic. She told Roman, who went white as a sheet and locked himself in his room. She told Kamala, who burst into tears for less than a minute and then forced herself to be calm. She didn’t have time to deal with either of them.

She told Tenten, and it took Tenten telling her for her to think about asking in town.

So now she’s striding through the streets with their one picture of Boo, taken for their passport and never since used. Their passport, that’s still in her bureau in the front room, where they could have taken it but didn’t. She shoves their bland little photo in front of everyone she goes past. She sees the distaste in their eyes at her unkempt desperation. “Have you seen them? Have you seen them, please? Please look out for them. Please, have you seen them?”

Tenten is on the other side of the road. He is the picture of calm. He shows the photo in front of him as he walks. “Has anyone seen my friend? Can anyone help me?” he asks. People shake their head at him, apologise, and wish him luck. From Avis, they turn away with averted eyes.

She can’t do this again. She can’t think straight. Her heart won’t slow down. She can’t lose another. She can’t take this. She can’t.

“Please, they’re vulnerable,” she begs parents and children alike, the former shielding the latter from her raw despair. “I just want to make sure they’re safe. Please.”

She’s not speaking to the people in front of her. She’s pleading with the world. Just let them be safe. Let them be okay. God, she has a brand new Romantic rescue back at the shelter with nobody better than Kamala to keep an eye on her. She’s so fucking reckless for thinking she could do this alone.

She needs Mrs Kaur to get to the house and look after them. She needs Neeta on the streets with the flyers she said she’d make. She needs help. She needs her family back.

“Have you seen them? Please look, please, they’re vulnerable…”

Everybody shakes their head.

[whenthechickencry]

Umineko EP2. Replay Part 5

It is very funny to see all the different lying styles from the characters on reread - Gohda can barely keep liies straight and just stumbles, Kumasawa exaggerates like some tv drama.

Leaving out the one you already let die, I guess.

Battler gets it sometimes.

Got a script update from Shannon and Genji here I suppose. Also she was extremely tense in that scene so I guess she was told about Jessica and is feeling guilty and scared

Yeah Rosa definitely did not want to stay with Shannon and Genji here lmfao.Of all the accomplices she is the one that fucked around the least and would probably survive had there not been a bomb.

The fact Jess got shot on the back seems to imply Kanon just shot her in the back... I kind of hope it was instantaneous and she didn't figure out what was going on but it probably wasn't, just kind of hurts me to think she realized it was Kanon who shot her.

Rosa is a little pissed her Wolves and Sheep game didn't actually work out, huh? It's your fault as much as Gohda's, though.

Gohda not being sure what to say and Shannon setting up the mystery herself is pretty funny.

You can definitely see how much Rosa enjoys power tripping in this scene, and if you then connect the dots to how she likely treated Maria at home... Also trying to force Battler to acknowledge a servant as a culprit which he will again not want to do.

This scene is really interesting. From Battler imagining a ghost Jessica/Kanon to back up his theories to how he defended Kanon so hard... I imagine Yasu has mixed feelings about this haha. On one hand, him defending a part of them so hard probably feels good, though he's horribly off track and what he's arguing about doesn't matter at all. I am not sure if the key was left there or if Nanjo was just playacting as part of Team Yasu but either way, there's about 5 other master keys Yasu can easily get ahold of, or Gohda could have just pretended the door was locked when it wasn't, either way it's not a very tight locked. Also Gohda and Rosa both don't really know how to answer to Battler going completely off base, that definitely wasn't part of the script ahah.

Beatrice is trying to get him back on track here without much success though.

The first use of the red to deem Kanon or Shannon dead! I think some people were mad about that when the mystery was revealed but after episode 3 announcing everyone dead I couldn't imagine a solution that didn't require wordplay of some kind...

He's beggining to catch on to the fact he's thinking in an immature way, at least.

M-metal gear Beatrice?

For a total of 2 non accomplices/culprits uh uh

Seems Rosa isn't horribly sure of who the real wolves here are, she obviously knows they are all in cahoots but not the specifics, other than knowing Shannon is the mastermind, so she just sends them all. And Nanjo too a bit later, better safe than sorry after misjudging the Jessica situation by sending Gohda assuming he would be a safeguard, I guess.

Wew Rosa. A cycle of abuse is obviously a very big theme in Umineko in general but Rosa is super explicit about it on this chapter.

With Rosa being an obvious accomplice here you should really be listening to her about who the culprits are... but it's hard to trust the words of someone acting so heartless as a reader huh?

There's a lot of comparing Rosa to her siblings in this chapter, and the thing you are meant to be getting from that is about how all the abuse Rosa has received from them has been internalized and she is abusing others like she was abused. Also, Rosa saying she isn't a wolf because she has a gun obviously highlights a weakness of her wolf and sheep thinking, considering she is a wolf. At this point, the wolves will always outnumber the sheep but all the wolves have different motivations, so it isn't that simple.

Can't stop yourself from talking about how you hate Gohda even in this fantasy scene lmfao. What's probably happening here is they are discussing the next steps of the plan.

Kanon literally being Beatrice on this scene is kind of funny looking back. Also for how long-winded and scary this scene was all that happened was nothing was really happening in actuality lol. Considering they were no corpses Nanjo and Kumasawa were just told to hide for now and they'll get murdered later.

Yeah uh, Gohda isn't a very good actor lmfao.

She's freaking out after hearing other accomplices were murdered Battler.

Tbh I am kind of confused by the blood since I am pretty sure they aren't dead yet... I guess Yasu having prepared fake blood of some kind isn't too farfetched though. And Gohda's "the blood is theirs" seems confirmation the blood isn't theirs, otherwise it's a weird way to word that.

She's really trying to cut off his naive thinking since he isn't making effort on that on his own.

She's giving wiggle room to doubt Jessica by that not being in red though. Usually she passes suspicion on the servants.

He's breaking down about his theory being broken omg

Everything here is correct other than the word Jessica, though.

Sweet of you to think that, but no.

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - PART 8

CW: toxic relationship, abuse of various kinds, misogyny, stalking, manipulation, injury, Carewhumper, reluctant Whumper

PART 7 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 9

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[2 WEEKS AGO]

They didn't sleep a lot this night, an event Morris never complained about. Flitting across the room, Amber was busy to collect the few clothes she carried on her body the day before. Her hair seemed a bit more dull than usual, wild and sprinkled with the smell of cheap vodka. She jumped into her oversized jeans. Hopping on one leg, clearly trying to keep her balance, yesterday's excess still weighing her down. He adored her so much, his heart stopping its beat for just a second.

"Whatcha looking at?" She turned to face him, an eyebrow playfully raised. Teasing.

"Just you," he whispered, sleep sticking to his voice, making it sound rough and hungry, "do you need to leave already? I thought we could spend the day together?"

Sharing a knowing smile with Morris, she continued to dress herself haphazardly, throwing pieces of fabric over herself to fight the freezing cold outside. She appeared more hectic than usual.

In a few hours, this nervousness would turn into itches burrowed directly under her skin, crawling their way inside her bones. They would be together by then, Morris hoped, always ready to allay her pain. That's what he wanted, what he was here for.

"Can't," she finally revealed, "'m busy with work." You don't work.

"Oh, alright!", he retorted instead, forgiving her quick lie without thinking anything by it, ""What about tonight? We could watch a movie..."

"I'm busy."

"Well, how about-"

"Planned the whole week, sorry." She didn't, he checked thoroughly.

"What about yesterday? You had enough time for me there."

Something was wrong, he could feel it, they usually didn't take long breaks from each other. She called him whenever her stash ran short, knowing that she doesn't get anything better than what Morris has to offer. A little extra, just for you, Amber.

Her expression soured, emerald eyes pressing together to form thin slits: "What's that supposed to mean?"

Morris didn't mean to fight, honestly trying his best to mediate the rising tension between them. Nevertheless, Amber made it hard to stay calm. He sat himself up to get a better look at her, distracted by zipping up her boots. As if he wasn't even in the room.

"I just think we should spend more time together, that's all!"

She was fully dressed by now and ready to leave, more fidgety than normal, it couldn't be the beginning withdrawal that made her so on edge. Twitching uncomfortable, she continued to face him.

"And what do you want to do with all that?"

He usually found her jokes to be cute, but this was different. Malicious even.

"This!" he stated bewildered, not knowing how else to respond, "This is all I'd ever want. You, me...us."

"This?" Amber sounded agitated, no, offended, like he just insulted her mother. "This is nothing, everyday living. One day you wake up, and your whole life is spent in what? Routine?"

She probably was just irritated, he had to track her cycle again, to avoid conflict. Whatever hormones she was suffering under currently, it didn't give her the right to-

She interrupted his sympathetic line of reasoning, more than angry: "What exactly do you think we are, huh?" 

What a question.

"Amber, this is serious...We-we talked about this months ago!"

"When I feel like it is, sure. Once you got the 'yes' I hoped you would stop being so fucking clingy."

He was standing at last, his hair tousled in all directions, it gave his confusion an even more convincing look. 

"See, I need to go. I call you after work." He probably should have let it go by then, but that wasn't his manner.

"Yeah? After the work you quit six weeks ago because you don't have to finance your little habit anymore; you can just tap me any time of day, right?!"

In disgust, she stopped looking for her purse to scowl at Morris, caught in her own little scheme, still never going to admit it. He knew her better than anyone else could.

"Whatever you think to know about my business, you have no fucking idea what you're talking about. Pathetic."

None of them realized how quickly it escalated, him storming towards her and halting just inches apart. Tall enough to look down on her, he spoke with the most collected tone he could muster in this situation.

"I take care of you, give you everything you want and that's how you talk to me?"

"A lot of people do these days," she spat in his face, taking every sliver of kindness out of the air between them, "and I'll replace you in a second, if you force me to."

Morris clenched his teeth to the point of nearly bursting his enamel, planting himself in front of her to take as much space as possible.

She doesn't mean it, but that doesn't give her the right to treat me like that!

Convinced that he did nothing wrong, he remained in this sorry excuse of a threatening posture.

Amber wouldn't budge an inch. She knew exactly how to handle men like Morris, she met them often enough and every time, it turned out the same.

"I'm leaving," she spoke with an unknown malice to her self-proclaimed boyfriend, "don't expect me to come back."

With that, she turned towards the door, trying to get out of the bedroom and to the one separating them from the hallway, hopefully without any disturbance. Morris turned with her, blocking the exit. She couldn't just leave like this, he needed her to listen!

"I'll scream, Chris!" her voice now a few pitches higher, fright clawing its way up her spine, "one call and the police will drag you back where you belong."

With that, she quickly squeezed past him and leaped down the stairs, leaving the door to hang open.

His vision white with anger but too frozen to do anything about it, Morris tried to sort his racing thoughts. He had known her to be less than loyal, sure, having fun was nothing to be ashamed of. But nobody just lets him stand in the dark like an idiot. Whatever poor soul she replaced him with - he couldn't bear the idea of it, thinking about it more like a quick change in scenery - he would be ready to forgive that slip-up too. He was patient enough for that, for her. She would learn that soon enough.

He had nothing to worry about, her imprudence would work in his favor. A few days at best, and she lays right where she belongs.

"You will crawl back to me, begging for my forgiveness!“ he screamed down the abandoned stairway, "Just you wait!"

--------

Elliot wondered if he would know anything besides unconsciousness. It felt more familiar by now, not that it bothered him: he preferred the thoughtless drifting over the waking world.

He understood nothing while laying in the stinted niche, his whole arm pulsating in heat. It had spread from his last two digits towards his elbow and further to the back of his neck. Wet and shaky, the limb continued to lay uselessly on the towel, blood-soaked, like everything else around him.

Elliot didn't want to recognize the familiar pressure next to him, like a shadow waiting to be seen. His captor hadn't moved in quite a while, impossible to pass even when asleep. The door leading to the garage and outside probably wasn't locked, he was practically free to go. 

Yeah, sure. 

God knows what Morris would rip out of him, if he dared to even look in the wrong direction. So he didn't.

The empty can was placed neatly on the mattress. Deep inside, he hoped Morris would just drug him up, let him forget the heat, the deep pain, the fact he would never sit at a piano again... Maybe he should cut that thing off, make it all go away.

Don't think about that, don't...

Tiny sniffles made their way up his nose. He would wake him up, he would come to and just make everything worse, Elliot was sure. The quiet weeping made him unaware of the silhouette shifting beside him, only a little, to place its meaty paw onto his shoulder.

"Don't cry, it's alright." 

It patted along the giant jacket enclosing Elliot, making his nerves flare up in agony once again. Screaming and crying: not fun, so shut the fuck up, come on...

"I've torn a ligament in my knee once, physical therapy really did its wonders." He ought to curse Morris out by now, but couldn't find a single spark of anger anymore, he was drained. "Your insurance should cover that, I hope."

No response came to guarantee Morris his incapacitated playmate was still up for a round. Trying wouldn't kill him, though.

"You wanna go back to the living room while we wait? It's warmer anyway, but if you still need to throw up, I can stay here."

Nothing. Playing hard to get, Morris assumed, he could handle that.

"She must really hate me, huh?" Elliot whispered instead. 

Please don't hurt my family. He thought of Ginkgo too, and how she would only survive for a week without him, like he deserved it for being always so fucking useless to everyone...

Morris dug through his back pocket, pulling out the stack of cards, nicked and smeared with what had swept out of him hours ago. It was time again if he wanted to or not.

I bore him, Elliot grasped, wanting to burst out laughing, like a bad episode he just wants to skip.

Quickly shuffling through the stack, he dealt them out as before, not being satisfied with solitaire or building a simple house of cards. Morris had spent so much energy to not hate the unfamiliar man, someone who had no fault regarding his experience with Amber. It used to feel like it, in a way, but not anymore. They were the same.

"You can start whenever you like!", he offered friendly, shifting to face Elliot, who still laid on his side.

Am I going to lose a foot if I decline? Or will you beg for my attention again?

"I never know what's the matter with you..." Elliot said instead, way too loud and not even meant to leave his head.

"I just want to make this easy for us - for you. Like yesterday, it went so well, better than I had expected."

Proud of managing his first-ever job without any assistance, Morris forgot for a second how everything after their boozy session went downhill. He wanted to hear about Elliot again, his hobbies, his life. We should start on common ground.

So he asked about the only thing really catching his attention:

„How did you meet Amber? You seem like a killjoy to me, not somebody she would drag around the nightlife."

"Houseparty of a mutual friend, Sarah, you know her? Contralto."

Of course, Morris knew her, she gave him a displeased look or two during their time together. Because he didn't belong to them, without Kant and Doc Martens. So he pretended to, just like right now, planning to google that word later in the day.

Elliot was turning absent again, he just parroted back the small talk.

"What about you?" A little meet-cute at the crack house? Wait-

"I don't think you wanna hear this," Morris continued, a bit quieter than normal. He shoved a few loose cards towards him.

No, nononono-

Through the fevered heat that started to crawl up his nape, he could finally see clear. He paid with two of his fingers to get the answer he was searching for.

"We met online and had a few drinks, nothing special." LIAR.

"Before or after?" he asked, nearly impossible to snuff out painful laughter. Morris just looked back at him with confusion. "Did she fuck you before or after you sold her weed?"

No answer to that, not that Elliot was in need of one. Twice in a year, this man ruined his life, and it took him way longer than expected to realize it.

"She always told me about a pharmacist," Elliot spoke to the ceiling above, to anyone who would listen, "and about how he would treat her so much better than I do, how ungrateful I was."

Morris didn't say a word, back to his stoic self. A lot more crest-fallen, admittedly, collecting the playing cards again.

"She loves this, her little fairy tales. Needs it. And when you're not worth the attention anymore, you get replaced, rebranded."

Morris knew it was a cocktail of the spreading infection paired with an old wound ripped open, he just wished back the Elliot who treated him with respect, like an actual human being. 

"You don't just break up with her like that, Elliot."

"Fuck, I sure did. If she cheats, what else are you supposed to do? Be alone, Morris, better alone than trapped."

"I have to do this. I have to. That's the last chance I get," Morris tried to convince Elliot, or maybe just himself.

"Nobody's making you do this. It's just you, always has been... Crippling me because a girl ghosts you, do you even hear yourself?"

His fleeting politeness didn't linger to aid his survival. Morris sounded like a toddler by now, unbelievable that this would be the man to ultimately end his life. Killed by a butthurt man-child, what a way to go. Elliot took it personally, though, he had every right to.

Morris would lose his calm any second to jump on top of him: strangling, stabbing, slicing. It was just a matter of time.

"I need to change that," he murmured, pointing to the dirty gauze and letting his mind drift far away from the accusations Elliot threw at him.

If it's delivered, her phone's on. And when it's on, she uses it. There was no other explanation, right? 

"Don't! I don't want your help!" 

Still, Elliot had no strength to resist the force with which his hand was taken from him, gently turned to be inspected.

"Look away!" he was told, while the jacket draped over his head to obscure the sight.

Please, I need to see, I need to know how bad it is. 

No matter how much he had insulted him just moments prior, Morris was so careful with his limb. A limb that was still attached to the rest of the infection-stricken man.

He didn't cut them off, Elliot realized, he didn't cut them off because he likes me.

He was correct with that assumption. Morris found joy in his captive, making the sight even harder when he pulled down the bandages. The whole upper part of Elliot's fingers were tinted in a cold blue, dark and unnatural to the sight. Tissue around the cuts was soft, providing no resistance when held. Like Play-Doh.

Morris thought of the medical dramas Amber forced him to watch more than once, but this was different. Squirming in the grasp, it was apparent that Elliot tried his best to stay still. Further up the digits, another agitator fell into his gaze: What had been white bloodless spots evolved into blisters.

Not blisters really, wet and open circles of infection, beginning to turn black in the middle. Morris thought of the bogman they pulled out of his grandmother's moorland when he was just about five. A hiker, the police told the villagers. It also smelled like it, decay tainting the bathroom.

"Does it look alright?" a thin voice came forward. No, it didn't.

"Sure, just as I said. A few screws and you're good as new." Morris needed to get more pills into his system, anything to help him overcome this. Amber should call any minute now, he hoped, claiming her to be sick for leading them on for such a long time.

------

I'm sorry, please call back. We can make this work.

Why don't you answer? I just want to explain myself!

Did you get a new number? Don't ignore me.

Are you with him again?

I have ways of making you talk to me, I'll make you regret your stubbornness.

Don't force me to do this.

After that, he had sent the first picture. Elliot in the stuffy trunk, bound like a birthday present and smeared with blood all over his face, blissfully unaware of the days to come. She had to have witness that, at least. Morris imagined her sitting together with her friends, laughing about how desperately he tried to get anywhere with her. Pathetic fit him.

He should have accepted Elliot's advice, snatch up one of those shallow leeches to mistreat instead. Rhys, that annoying prick always trying to start shit about current politics or Liz, dumb as a rock and twice as bland. Or Sahra, always at the butt of the joke.

Why not, actually, she didn't seem to be one to enjoy Amber. Sometimes, at least. Rummaging through Elliot's contacts, he quickly found what he was looking for. He couldn't fuck this up even more, so what was left to lose?

"Hello?" a confused voice answered, probably annoyed about being disturbed on a Sunday morning.

"Hey, Sahra. It's Chris!" Don't you dare hang up, don't complicate this further! "I just wanted to ask how you're doing!"

Silence.

"If you're searching for Amber, she not with me right now."

Short and brutal, she explained what he already knew. After the standstill on her socials, Amber didn't even visit her favorite bars or clubs, not even Sahra. He checked that.

"And she's still pissed about your fight, so don't expect anything from me."

Morris tried to take her gossiping lightly, wanting to get more information.

"Yeah, I know. It didn't go as planned, I tried to make amends, but she just went AWOL everywhere. Can't blame her for avoiding me." Hoping she would take the bait, Morris waited a second to let his desperation seep through the speaker. "By the way, how is your practice going?"

"What do you care?"

Bitch. With a glimpse towards the bathroom door, Morris walked up and down the living room, keeping the chit-chat going. What was the word again?

"I wanted to get us both tickets, Amber and me, for the show. You perform this Christmas, don't you? Wanted to bring on the advent spirit, just a little." Come on.

"Oh yeah, that's true," she admitted, a bit more gentle now. "I didn't know you kept that in mind."

"Contralto, right? I just want to make it up to her, but she ignores me ever since. I guess that's what I deserve..."

A sigh could be heard at the end of the line, he could practically hear her chewing her lip.

"Listen, Chris, that's sweet of you. But I don't think she will be able to go, even if she wanted." A horrible accident was the only acceptable reason for her behavior. He could visit her, bring her flowers, tuck her back into bed...

"Oh my god," he gasped instead, "please don't tell me it's something bad. I always told her to drive slower, I couldn't-"

"No, no, don't worry," came the hectic answer, "Well, maybe worry a little. I don't know if you should-"

"I just want to know if she's hurt! Please, Sahra, I agonized over this for two weeks!" Swallow that whole, you fucking cunt.

"You didn't hear that from me, okay?"

"I didn't hear anything!" He was close, so close.

"Fuck, Chris, she's in rehab."

For a second, Morris thought of nothing, like every plan and problem he juggled for the past weeks had left him for good. Rehab? No, she doesn't need that. He could take care of her, he could make it better... She didn't need that!

"Bought impure stuff. Some bastard cut it with heroin."

"Oh," he said flatly, "fucking hell."

Her information was still wrong, Amber didn't buy it.

"Yeah, but the outcome is nice, I suppose. Vegan buffet, aquarobics and all that bullshit. I just hope she's doing fine. It's some alternative place her parents picked out, no Wi-Fi and all that, they don't even allow them phone calls. I tried to reach her too, but no chance. You know, I always suspected-"

He let her tell the stories of Ayurveda treatments and deep cleansing methods in between therapy sessions and how long that might take. Weeks, she suspected. Time neither Morris nor Elliot had left, especially not here.

She hadn't seen any of it, any of the things he did for her.

Why didn't he call earlier, why did he give into the fantasies of getting back at her through hurting a man - hurting Elliot? Silently, he called himself every insult in the book, his self-image being drowned in shame. Morris had never been idiotic, though, the truth was considerably more wearing. Jealous, that's all he was.

"Chris?" It's been him, it has always been him. "Why did you argue?"

"She hurt someone," he answered automatically, his mouth as dry as the now blood-stained grout, "Our mutual...friend. It's bad, Sahra, I don't know what to do."

"Well, that's nothing new with her, right?" she whispered, taking a deep breath before marking the end of the pleasantries, "Please don't call me again."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump