#occasional treats are good!! not saying no sugar ever or whatever but it is WEIRD how adamant Americans are about needing

[saint-ambrosef]

saying "it is not necessary to have sweets every day" should not be seen as controversial, but i have had people go for my throat for that take. its literally unthinkable apparently not to have a sweet treat on the daily (or multiple times per day).

i'm not saying "sugar bad" or anything, it's good to enjoy a little dessert every now and then. but i think a lot of Americans are so used to having a diet high in sugary foods, and it's so normalized and what so many people grew up with, that me saying "your kids don't need to have dessert every day" is accused of toxic diet culture mindset and depriving children of joy.

and the thing is, our sweets are really sweet. you don't notice it when you grew up with it, it just seems normal. but if you travel elsewhere or go on a low-sugar diet, suddenly our ice cream and cookies and donuts seem un-appetizingly overly sweet.

anyways i'm not saying don't give your kids dessert, but i think a lot of Americans underestimate how addicted they are to sweets. if the mere suggestion to limit the intake to once or twice a week gives you a knee-jerk reaction of fear/horror/disgust, "i could never! i earned this!", there is a problem.

[nationalharryleague]

Dog Days Are Over

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers AU

Word count: 4.8K

A/N: Hi all! This is something I’ve been working on for a little while now and I’m really proud of it! As usual, a massive thank you to Miss Lu (@meetmymouth​) for being the best and beta reading. You can read more of my work in my masterlist and please please please send feedback to my ask! Thank you so so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it!! 

***

Jagger was a good boy. He was a massive Great Dane with a shiny black coat and goofy wide eyes that softened his overall intimidating appearance. Great Danes had been bread as guarding and hunting dogs, but the gentle giant was nothing like his ancestors. He trapesed around the park every morning with his clumsy oversized paws and a tail that never seemed to stop wagging. A sunshiny yellow collar sat around his neck with a leash connecting him to his owner, a curly headed man with kind eyes.

She had built a rapport with Jagger over time, always willing to spare a few of the treats she kept in her pocket for her own dogs, Annie and Hallie. The pair of speckled Dalmations always looked up to give her a disappointed look that seemed to ask “Why are you giving our cookies away, Mom?” when she offered the chicken flavored morsels to the charming brute. She would lean down (not very far due to his massive size),  give him two cookies, a scratch behind the ear, and a kiss to his forehead every morning, murmuring a “Good morning buddy.”

While she greeted Jagger, the man would always give her spotted ladies the attention they loved and a couple treats of his own, earning a few thankful and loving licks from the dogs. After the affectionate moment with the dog of a perfect stranger (she didn't even know his name), the pair would always give each other a smile and move on with their days.

This was their routine for months, meeting briefly every morning through falling leaves of a New York autumn that eventually gave out to the first snowy mornings and the charm of winter in Central Park. They never spoke more than a friendly morning greeting, occasionally commenting on the weather, but always taking a few moments to say hello to the endearing animals that accompanied them.

Her favorite coffee shop was especially busy one morning when they accidentally brought her two hot coffees with cream and sugar, instead of just one. When she had tried to return it, her favorite barista, a girl with golden skin and eyes to match, told her to take it anyway because it would just be thrown out. After the barista herself declined to keep the drink with a light chuckle, Y/N was sent on her way, each hand holding a coffee and both her wrists each looped through a leash.

Y/N, Annie, and Hallie made their way into Central Park, a surprisingly difficult task on his specific morning.  She struggled to maintain control over the hot liquid and the two strong dogs with strong opinions of where they wanted to walk. Inevitably and like clock work, they ran into Jagger and the man with the kind eyes, Y/N slowing to a stop to greet her giant furry friend. It wasn’t long before her K-9 balancing act gave her an idea.

“Do you drink coffee?” she quickly questioned, the words leaving her mouth without permission and directly addressing the man with the kind eyes about something other than the weather or their dogs for the first time since they had known each other. Jagger bumped his oafish head gently into her hip, seeming to ask for her attention back, just as surprised as she was with her uncharacteristic interaction with his dad.

“Uh, yeah,” the man answered, eyes locking with hers and seeming to be just as shocked that she spoke to him as she was. His deep and velvety voice was a sharp contrast to the sweet and fairly high pitched tone he usually used with Annie and Hallie.

“Well, the cafe gave me two instead of just one by accident. Do you want it?” She offered the cup to him with a hopeful shrug and a smile spread across her face when he took it.

They continued on with their routine of saying hello to each other’s animals without another word, the man with the kind eyes taking a sip of the coffee to test it out. She was pressing the usual kiss to Jagger’s massive head when she watched a ring clad hand offering itself towards her in the peripheral of her vision. “My name is Harry, by the way,” he said with a friendly close lipped smile playing across his lips. “We never really did introduce ourselves, did we?”

“I don’t think we ever did,” she said with a chuckle, reaching her hand out and connecting it with his. His hands were soft, but felt strong like he worked with his hands and his palms felt hot despite the freezing temperatures from where he had been clutching the coffee. “Y/N.”

“It's nice to formally meet you, Y/N. I usually just think of you as Annie and Hallie’s Mom.” His lips saying her name made it sound like it was sung by a million angels and she just couldn’t get over the idea of him thinking about her outside of the park. Of course she thought of him, a British beautiful man with kind eyes who loves her dogs was like finding a unicorn, but it had never crossed her mind that the thoughts could be mutual.

Before she had a chance to respond, Jagger began to walk forward, ready to take on the rest of his walk. “I guess it’s time for you to go,” she joked looking down as the giant animal who began to pull Harry forward.

“I guess so,” he agreed, jerking forward as he tried to slow Jagger down. “Thank you again for the coffee.”

“No problem!”

“Next time,” he said over his shoulder, a teasing smirk on his face, after Jagger had led him a considerable distance from her. “I take my coffee black!”

***

She thought about him all day after the park. She couldn’t believe that the tiny conversation had with him was all it took for him to occupy her every thought. She wondered if he enjoyed the rest of the coffee, if she would ever run into him at the cafe that had its logo drawn across the side of the drink she had gifted him, or if his girlfriend was suspicious when he came home holding a coffee order that definitely wasn’t his. What if he thought what she had done was weird? Would he change Jagger’s walking schedule? Or maybe change his route completely to avoid her?

Y/N ignored every one of those thoughts the next morning when she attended her usual coffee shop; and especially when she ordered one hot coffee with cream and sugar, and one without. She even asked her favorite barista with the golden eyes to write a little ‘H’ on the black coffee so she wouldn’t get them mixed up.

“To make up for all the treats you’ve given to Annie and Hallie over these last few months,” she lied when she handed the coffee over to him, relishing slightly in how his fingertips brushed hers when he took the drink from her hands. She knew that she didn’t get him the coffee for the treats; she got it because she had a crush.

“Oh, thank you so much!  You didn’t have to do this,” he insisted as he took a sip. “You even had a little ‘H’ put on it for me?” His eyes lit up at the possibility and from that second forward Y/N pledged to herself that she would do anything she could to see his eyes sparkle like that again.

“I just wanted to make sure they didn’t get mixed up.”

“H is what all of my friends call me.” She watched his plump pink lips move as he spoke, his warm breath creating a small steamy cloud in the frosty air.

“That’s really sweet,” she said smiling like a fool, endeared by the nickname.

“You can call me H, ya know?” he spoke and her heart just about stopped. “I think if our dogs are friends,” he said, gesturing to their dogs as their dogs played amongst themselves, “we can be friends too.”

She knew she would be unable to contain herself as soon as she got out of his line of sight in a few moments. She might bust out into a happy dance, or maybe even let out a small squeal;  but for the moment she just nodded her head. “I think I would really like that, H.”

“So,” he began with the smirk she had already begun to fall in love with, “friends don’t let friends buy them coffee two days in a row without returning the favor. Tomorrow is on me.”

“Sounds good, H,” she said as the pair of dalmations began to pull her forward. “I take my coffee with cream and sugar!” she shouted over her shoulder, shooting him a wink as she went on with her walk.

“I know.”

She was unable to contain herself and did, in fact, do a little wiggle when she was out of his sight.

***

Of all places she thought she could end up this Saturday morning, she didn’t think it would be in Harry’s apartment.

She had casually mentioned that morning when they met up in the park, more to make conversation than anything else, that the heat in her apartment was out but she had never expected him to invite her and the girls back to his place to warm up.

They had fallen into a delightful rhythm of bringing each other coffee over the past few weeks, taking turns and spending a few fleeting moments speaking to each other before one of their pets decided it was time to move on with their walk. She had learned that he was a physical therapist and that he had rescued Jagger from a puppy mill when he was a baby, but to be completely honest, she didn’t know much about him beyond that. They could only learn so much about each other  in 5 minute bursts before the dogs got bored and pulled them apart once again.

What she did know about him for sure was that his eyes didn’t lie when they said he was kind. He never missed a day getting her coffee and he always profusely thanked her when she brought him his. He always asked about how her day was going, and seemed to be genuinely interested in when she spoke about her work, hobbies, or whatever else ended up being the topic of their short conversations.

While she wouldn’t go as far as saying he cared about her, she knew that she cared about him.

“It’s not much,” Harry said, opening the door for Y/N and her dogs to pass into his home, “but it’s mine.”

As most New York City apartments were, it was a tiny shoe box of a living space; but it felt cozy, and most of all, warm. It was a small studio, with all the essentials packed in tight. His sofa sat up against the right wall of exposed brick, mirrored by a small kitchen on the left. She had to admit it was well styled; dark woods and stainless steel decorated the apartment and various posters and framed pictures on the walls made it his own.

The most breathtaking feature was a massive bay window that sat above his bed on the far back wall. The window directly overlooked Central Park and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sentimentality because that’s where they had met. His bed was perfectly made with dark charcoal grey sheets all she could imagine was being wrapped up in them with Harry.

Walking through the door, she was intoxicated by the most delicious smell that she could only assume was Harry’s cologne, but she was brought back to reality when he asked for her coat. Their hands met as she handed it over to him and a flash of concern immediately flashed through his face, bushy eyebrows furrowing. “You’re absolutely freezing, love.”

Once again, her heart began to burst with joy. Just that little word, the little pet name and term of endearment. It made her feel like a kid on Christmas, like she was ready to burst.

“Oh, I’m okay,” she managed to get out, still overwhelmed by his words.

“We’re gonna get you and the ladies all warmed up, okay?” She watched from her spot by the front door as he began to run around the apartment with one goal: to warm his friend up. He moved gracefully from the thermostat to a chest of drawers, making a small triumphant noise when he pulled out two dog sweaters that were Jagger’s. “They’re a little big, but I think they will work,” he said with a helpful smile.

She watched as he knelt down in front of Annie and Hallie, asking for their paws. Both of them quickly responded, clearly trusting the curly man in front of them as much as she did. He delicately slipped the knit over both of the dogs, and with anything he did, Y/N’s heart swooned.

To her, those dogs were her everything. She had moved to the city completely alone and had rescued the pair of sisters from a kill shelter only a week after arriving. She named them after the twins from The Parent Trap, her favorite movie growing up. She felt it was symbolic; like she and the dogs had been brought together by some twist of fate but had known each other in a past life. Those dogs were her everything and watching them interact with Harry ignited a fuzzy warmth within her; a sharp contrast to her still frozen nose.

“You next,” he teased, beckoning her over from her spot at the front door. She took careful steps over to him, trying her best to stay respectful of his space, already feeling intrusive for being there. She met him in the middle of the room, where he had grabbed a blanket off the couch, placing it over her shoulders and enveloping her in soft warm fabric and the smell of him. Shocks were sent up her arms as he rubbed them in an attempt to generate more heat. It was the first time he had ever really touched her other than light brushing of their fingertips, and she had never felt like anything was more right in the world than the way she felt in his arms.

She watched his face closely as he held the blanket tight around her frame. He had a light stubble peppering his strong jaw and his eyes were the most vibrant yet soft shade of green she had ever seen. His brows were still slightly knitted together in care for her, trying his best to accomplish his goal of warming the woman who had become his friend. Her eyes narrowed in on his plush pink lips and it took everything in her not to learn forward and press her lips to his; but she wouldn’t. They were casual friends; nothing more, nothing less, and her school girl crush didn’t change any of that.

His hands on her arms slowed and their eyes finally met, the deep green feeling like it had penetrated her soul. “I have soup in the fridge,” he said softly, eyes narrowing in on her still cold nose, “let me heat it up for you.” And as soon as the moment had happened, it was gone, him walking away from her in a flurry and starting his next task of making her soup.

“H, I promise I’m okay,” she said with a light chuckle. “I will warm up, eventually. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

“You have been in a frozen apartment for four days. You’re going to get sick,” he said, head still stuck in the fridge out of her line of sight.

“What do you care if I get sick?” she teased. “Won’t get your coffee?”

“No,” he said in an exasperated tone, popping back out from behind the fridge door to connect his eyes with hers, “because then I won’t get to see you.”

Despite the chill still present in her bones, she felt her cheeks heat with his words. “Oh, okay,” was all she could muster before he returned back to his search for the soup.

He did eventually find the soup and nearly force fed her the hot liquid, insisting that “you’re not getting pneumonia on my watch.” And while she kept up the act that she was totally fine and didn’t need him to fuss over her, it felt so good to be cared for like this. She had been on her own for so long now, lacking the care and affection that came with an overbearing mother-hen-esque friend, and she was honestly loving it.

It was later that day, while they were sat watching a movie on his couch, Y/N still wrapped up tight like a burrito in the flannel blanket that smelled like him, when he informed her that she wasn’t allowed to go back to her apartment until the heat was fixed. “H,” she had playfully groaned, “I am a big girl and will survive a little chill.”

“There’s a cold snap coming,” he justified his demands. “Saw it on the news this morning.”

“H, this is all too much. All of this has been so kind and the dogs and I appreciate it from the bottom of our hearts, but I can’t let you put your life on pause because I might get a little cold.”

“Please stay,” he began gently, almost pleading with her in a deeper and softer voice than he had ever used with her before, “for Annie and Hallie,” he finished. Her heart sank, reminding herself that the pair were just friends. He was just doing a favor for her out of the goodness of his heart; nothing more, nothing less.

“Maybe,” she murmured. “I’ll have to see if it gets fixed tonight.”

It didn’t get fixed. Apparently, New York City landlords, especially the one that owned her very tiny, and very shitty, apartment didn’t care much about their tenants turning to icicles. Around 10 PM, she finally gave up hope of anything getting fixed today, much to Harry’s delight.

She had accepted the sweats Harry had offered for her to sleep in, enveloped by soft worn fabric that spelled like him. A dark blue crew neck with ‘Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School’ written across the front swallowed her frame and Harry laughed at her when she had to roll up the legs of the sweatpants so she wouldn’t trip on them. “It’s not my fault you’re a giant,” she giggled, poking him in the chest and sticking her tongue out at him like a child.

“You’re lucky you look cute in those or I would be taking them back after a comment like that.” Her cheeks reddened for what felt like the millionth time since she had entered his space this morning. They had fallen into a charming banter, a rhythm of teasing jokes and kind words intertwined with each other that made her heart sing. While she still felt like she was intruding on his space, there was a growing part of her that was glad her heat wasn’t back yet. She didn’t want to leave his warmth and light just yet.

When a yawn left her lips later that night, Harry decided it was time for bed. “We’re in the middle of the episode,” she had argued through another yawn, “we haven’t even seen who wins the technical challenge yet.” They had watched almost an entire season of Bake Off over the course of the day, both of them curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets and dogs.

“We have to be up for our walk in the morning,” he smiled as he lifted Jagger’s massive head off his lap to get up. “I’ll even buy the coffee.”

“Okay, I guess so,” she agreed gently. “Can I just borrow a pillow?” she asked as she adjusted herself and the dogs on the couch under the blankets.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a confused face.

“Getting ready to go to sleep?” she responded with an equally questioning tone.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch. Come on, get into my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“No.”

“Why not? You’re my guest.”

“Harry,” she spoke gently but was met with a lift of his eyebrow like using his full name was an insult. “H,” she began again, “I’m not going to come into your home, inconvenience your entire day, steal your clothes, eat your food, and then make you sleep on the couch.”

“Please, just let me sleep on the couch, Y/N,” he nearly begged.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” she repeated with a stern tone.

“Then neither are you.” Her breath caught in her chest and her eyes flashed to the dark charcoal sheets she had imagined being wrapped up in with him when she first entered the apartment. “It’s a big comfy bed and I want you to actually sleep well. I’m perfectly okay with it if you are.”

While her heart was beating out of her chest at the opportunity of being that close to him, all she said was “sounds good,” unable to come up with anything more than that in the moment.

She reverted back to her careful steps and bated breath as she left the couch and made her way over to the bed, suddenly so aware of the respectful boundaries she had created for herself when she first arrived. She lifted back his heavy comforter and slid herself inside, pulling the blanket to her chin as she watched, mesmerized, as the man walked around the apartment getting ready for bed.

He walked around the apartment on the pads of his bare feet almost silently, turning off lights and pouring them both a glass of water before refilling the dog bowls on the ground. He led Jagger to his giant dog bed and invited Annie and Hallie up onto his couch to sleep, gently coaxing them onto the cushions and laying the blanket Y/N had been wrapped in for most of the day over the speckled sisters.

There was only the light coming off the street lights streaming through the window above her head to illuminate the silent apartment and she watched as Harry made his way to the tall chest of drawers on his side of the bed. He lifted his sweater over his head to expose his muscular back and elaborately tattooed arms, and she prayed he didn’t hear the small gasp that left her lips. As quickly as his back and torso were revealed to her, they were hidden once again when he slipped a large tshirt back over his body. She had only ever known him in the colder months, always wrapped up in a sweater or a coat; she had never expected the beautiful illustrations that decorated his body or his broad muscular shoulders that stayed hidden under layers of clothing.

“Stop staring, ya perv,” his deep velvety voice joked with a laugh and she felt her cheeks burn worse than they had all day. “I’m only kidding, love,” he spoke softly when he turned around and connected their eyes.

“I was just looking at your tattoos,” she stammered while she watched him slip into the bed next to her, trying to wipe the adoring look from her face. “I like them a lot.”

“Thank you.” He settled into the bed, far enough to be respectful but still close enough for her to feel the warmth off his skin. He brought his arm out from underneath the covers, allowing her to get a closer look at the ink that illustrated his skin and she rolled herself on her side to face him. She carefully traced the veins of the anatomical heart on this bicep with her finger tips. “Your fingers finally warmed up,” he said barely loud enough for her to hear.

Her eyes flashed up to meet his eyes in the darkness, his irises still seeming to glow in the limited light. She felt his warm minty breath fall over her face and the sweet smell of him that had been enveloping her since she entered his space intensified with her proximity to him. He smelled of sandalwood and vanilla, mixed with the smell of clean linen coming from his bed sheets.

“I guess they did,” she said under her breath, like if she spoke too loudly the moment would be scared away. “We should get some sleep,” she said regretfully, remembering the respectful rules she had set for herself. She withdrew her hand away from his arm and rolled back to her previous position to stare at the ceiling until she fell asleep. If she hadn’t been so tired and if it wasn’t so dark, she would have thought she saw disappointment on his face before she dozed off.

When she began to wake the next morning, she was warm. Not a sweaty or sticky warm, a cozy warm that makes you want to curl up and spend an entire day in bed, seeking respite from the cold air that lives outside the cocoon of blankets you’ve created. She snuggled further into the warmth, and further into the arms that held her close. Her consciousness was blurred with sleep as she buried her face deeper into the warmth between someone’s shoulder and neck. She wouldn’t have woken up if she didn’t feel the body holding her release a light chuckle at her sleepy huffs.

Coming back to life, she lifted her head and opened her eyes to the strong jaw peppered with stubble that she had studied so intensely for months now. A gasp left her throat and she tried to pull herself away, wracked with guilt for passing a boundary she had set. But her movements were stopped when the pair of arms around her waist only pulled her closer, a deep gravelly voice next to her mumbling “don’t go.”

For the first time, she let herself occupy the thought that her fascination with Harry may be mutual. He had gone above and beyond for her and had always been kind and accommodating, always ready to take care of her any need or want. He had let her stay in his house for god sake, let her stay in his bed, and was now holding on to her like if he let go the little world they had created together would fall apart.

“Okay,” she whispered softly into his neck, melting back into his warmth once again. Her drowsiness must have clouded her judgement when she pressed a gentle and soft kiss over his pulse point.

It was Harry’s turn to pull back, a drowsy chuckle leaving his lips as he made eye contact with her still half closed eyes. “Did you just kiss me?” he asked incredulously.

“No, definitely not.” She buried her face in her hands, blushing uncontrollably and feeling her whole face heat up.

“You liar,” he grinned. “Come here.” He pressed his hands to either side of her face and pulled her mouth to meet his. It was a soft kiss, both of them unable to control their smiling lips. Her heart raced and so did his. Their lips moved together in a rhythm that was occasionally interrupted by excited giggles, and Harry pulled her closer to him than she ever had been before.

They stayed in that bliss for as long as they could; cheeks hurting from smiles, gentle laughter released often, and enjoying the warm cocoon they had created together. It was only a matter of time before they were interrupted, both of them letting out loud laughter when all three of their animals joined them on the bed. It was only then Y/N peaked out the window above them to discover Central Park covered in a bright white blanket of snow, flurries continuing to fall outside.

“I have been obsessed with you from the first day I saw you walking the girls,” he confessed as the dogs curled up around them both. “I thought you were so special and beautiful. I about lost it the day you offered me that coffee. I couldn’t believe you were actually talking to me and not my dog for once.”

“Let’s be honest, I fell in love with Jagger first,” she teased. “His hot dad was just a bonus,” she giggled against his lips as he pressed their faces together once again, bodies held apart by the dogs that had wiggled between them.

This moment felt like a fairytale. She wasn’t sure how long it would last or what would come from it but she knew that this was what pure joy felt like, and she would hold onto it for as long as she could.

They only had the dogs to thank.

Thank you so much for reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean to the world!!! 

[dimespin]

Guide to being a friend with my fictional species

You know, just for fun, since I’ve talked a bit about some of the different social expectations of hydras and now Saratoans. So here we go, more detail.

Saratoans

Saratoans have committed platonic relationships that are similar to married couples in terms of emotional intimacy and material care, it’s important to identify who a Saratoan’s partner is so you can be respectful toward them and gracious about them bringing their partner along or prioritizing their partner’s needs over yours and openly “playing favorites” - it can ingratiate you to them to be nice to their partner by passing along gifts or nice words, or you can ask them how their partner is doing and show concern for their well being.

It’s unlikely you’ll be a Saratoan’s partner so don’t worry about accidentally becoming that kind of friend to them even if they are “single” - it can take a long time for adults to become that kind of friend with each other and there’s almost always long conversations and careful planning about the future involved. Most Saratoans met their partner as young people.

They expect you to keep your hands to yourself for the most part, but a good friend may squish their nose against your face in the same situations where you’d expect a hug. A quick pat on the nose like you’re bopping a large button is also acceptable (if they started booping their nose against you first), since they get that humans are hands oriented. Hugs and handshakes are also normal, although some are more reserved. It’s best to follow their lead regarding physical affection.

It’s important to avoid flashing your teeth in most cases, keep lips together when smiling. A broad smile (or a grimace to show your teeth) when first meeting is considered polite, and you can show your teeth when giving advice or teaching or giving guidance, though you may be shut down by an elder who will decide you don’t have the authority to give advice. Don’t argue too much with older Saratoans. If their teeth are so long they can’t even try to hide them treat them like a wise old wizard. Little bit of reverence, but still someone you could ask to show you a magic trick.

Do not pull on an adult’s tail it’s considered condescending. Also don’t mess with anyone’s pouch that’s weird.

Being friends with a Saratoan means hanging out together, talking, and eating. It takes them hours to fill their stomachs so chilling while they do it is a prime friend activity and bonding experience.

You can establish yourself as someone they could go to for deeper emotional conversation, or big favors, or who’d love to watch their kid, but they won’t push for that you have to take the initiative and offer it.

They may judge you a bit for not being caring toward humans one age group younger than you though.

Alligator hydras

You are either a member of the paddle (a true friend) or an acquaintance.

Acquaintances can have shallow but friendly interactions, chit chat, may be asked for the occasional favor but it’s not held against them if they say no.

If you get closer to them they will expect a LOT from you so beware. They consider a friend to be like a family member, you need to share food, you need to babysit their children, they will consider any space that is your home to be their space to come into as they please whether you are there or not and they will expect you to drop everything and help them when they need it. This spreads to everyone in their group, also called a paddle. You can’t be good friends with only one of them, you become a member of the paddle and therefore they all expect all this from you.

The thing is though, if you do all that, they will do all that for you too. The entire paddle.

They love to show their affection through physical touch and closeness. If you become their friend you may never know what personal space is again. They particularly appreciate pressure on the flat part on the top of their head, under their jaw, and on their cheeks, you can pat, pet or just rest your weight against these areas and they’ll interpret that as affection. Laying on top of their back when they are laying down, or sitting on the “shell” part of their back, or petting this part of their back, also counts as affection.

They don’t really care that humans pet animals too, so it’s kind of like treating them like a pet, they will pet YOU too. It’s whatever.

It’s okay to have different relationships with each twin as long as you are respectful to both. It’s important not to mix them up so get ready to figure out your right from your left or look for differentiating features or demeanor, because they will not be forgiving about this despite the fact they look largely identical.

Dryads

Dryads are very shy especially around humans, but if you establish a friendship with one, a dryad’s two favorite friendship activities are vibing in near-total silence for long periods and gossip.

Anything that follows “now you didn’t hear this from me, but...” is a fantastic bonding activity, but if you’ve got nothing to say, sitting in their vicinity and minding your own business works too.

They prefer that you not touch them in any way unless explicitly invited to do so. Physical affection is likely to be very small blink and you’ll miss it moments like a pat on the shoulder or hand.

You’ll know you’re doing the silence right if you hear a clicking sound from them grinding their teeth together.

Dryads pair bond with a mate for life, so they will also likely have a husband/wife/spouse to be aware of. Their relationship to that person is very similar to the average human married couple, but their spouse is likely to openly snub interacting with you because they are shy. Don’t take it personally. Your friend will defend their spouse if you try to take issue with this behavior so just let it go.

It’s also important to note that being a dryad’s friend means you are expected to be part of the larger network of people who help each other when needed. Your friend may tell you to go to some dryad you’ve never even met before and do that dryad a favor, and unless you’ve got a good excuse to not do it, failure to follow through with the favor will damage your relationship to your friend.

If you’ve ever been asked to do one of these favor errands you are also free to let your friend know when you need a favor like this done for you. Try not to abuse the privilege by asking them to help you in situations you don’t really need help, this can damage your relationship too.

Lacunalithops dexter (bees)

You are basically an ambassador interacting with a country.

You are almost certainly not going to get to know an individual worker, so it’s best to think of yourself as forming an alliance with a large group.

You will likely be interacting with the hive via bribes. Candy, sugar and fruit offerings will curry favor with the hive, who will attempt to demonstrate their appreciation with offerings to you based on what they think you’ll like.

Once you establish yourself as a safe person to be around, workers will frequently treat you like furniture, landing on you and such.

They will rarely attempt to communicate with sign language because they find speaking that slowly infuriating. If you are lucky and they understand your written language they may leave you notes, which are likely to come across as oddly entitled and demanding.

Don’t expect them to understand anything you say with verbal audio language, they are essentially hard of hearing and don’t especially care to learn to read lips. You can get their attention by yelling but don’t bother with anything more nuanced then “HEY!”

[jaeminscoffee]

The midnight man | l.ty

Pairing- Lee Taeyong x reader

Mentions- Lee Donghyuck, Na Jaemin, Liu YangYang, Nakamoto Yuta, Seo Johnny, Kim Doyoung, Ten Lee, Lee Dong Wook.

Genre- Horror!au, angst, crack, part fluff.

Warning(s)- Evil entity!Taeyong, Manipulation, Major character death (lmao you'll actually punch yourself towards the end), sexual themes suggested, impulsive decision making, talks with religion.

Word count- 11.83k

Synopsis- 'Lust though pleasurable, innocent and vice, thee shall stay loyal to thy partner regardless of wants. To betray thy partner is to deceive thy people and hence the kingdom. Thou shall pay for thy soul shall remain wandering, driven by the desires but, shall not be able to feel the human love thou took for a grain of salt. And all who shall follow thy steps shall face the same wrath.'

@kpopscape

This story is pure work of fiction and therefore doesn't speak about the mentioned members' personality in real life. I, in no manner, am trying to encourage hate speech towards the members so please don't come at me. This story was written using a mix of a bunch of urban legends and few made up by myself and therefore it isn't going to be spoken about the same way as it is in google. I also worked really hard on this piece and it's by far, the longest story I've written so feedbacks would mean a lot!, also it could get a little boring since i took time to focus on the side characters too. Make sure not to repost my works and sign it off as your own because that's a little disheartening and mockful towards the writer. So all credits reversed to @jaeminscoffee 2020©®

If anyone here doesn't know the story behind the midnight game, then read on! Because I've described it throughout the story! Happy reading!

29/10, Thursday, 10:57PM

"We need to do something this halloween man, Y/n come on!" 

Your friends all collectively whined as you constantly kept rejecting their proposal. 

Halloween is bullshit. It's overhyped and in all honesty, childish. You'd rather prefer staying home than go house to house and make a fool out of your existence. Not to mention you were all past the age of trick or treating. And to add on top of that came all the sugar rush you'd all go through at the end of the day. "For the last time, Hyuck we're not dressing up like crewmates and going trick or treating. I've got other things to do for the love of god" you grunt, rubbing the scrunched up skin to soothe the pain at the temples. University has been acting up again and so has life. "If your 'other things to do' is binge watch high school musical then no, you have no other better things to do" Yangyang bites back. 

"It's just, I don't feel like it anymore, alright? It feels too weird going out asking for candies when we're all literally 19 and above. It's time to up the notch." you say, plopping down.

When Haechan called for an emergency meeting in pure 'among us' style back at the guys' dorm, you'd expected it to be about something along the lines of having to console Jaemin or someone for having been stood up on a date. What you didn't expect was to have the boys prepare an entire presentation on who'd dress up as what character from among us and who'd be the impostor, do a little play and then say 'red is sus' and then ask for candies. What made it worse was that you thought they were just pulling a prank on you when in all reality, they were dead serious which made you go, 'oh, oh they aren't pretending to be stupid, they're just in their original form.'

"It won't be that bad, doll. It's a genius plan if you ask me" Jaemim chirped in on the conversation finally after looking back and forth between you, Donghyuck and Yangyang caught up in a meaningless fight. "I don't see how any of this is genius, Jaem. If this plan's anything, it's stupid." You pull out your phone after making your way all the way to the headboard of Jaemin's bed. "How about we try out one of these creepy pasta games?" Yuta finally spoke up. Jaemin's brother, an early graduate, senior and of course a dear friend of yours. Yuta, despite the age difference between your classmates and you, had little to no trouble blending in with the tiny group of yours. Probably the only one who didn't behave like a toddler and the most sane one according to you. Yuta's been an amazing planner since junior year where you first met Jaemin, Yangyang and Donghyuck who then proceeded to introduce you to their senior friend group that consists of Yuta, Johnny, Doyoung; Donghyuck's cousin and Ten. You guys had a friendship the entire campus was envious of. But two year after you getting into the university, the seniors had to graduate. But that didn't stop all your bonds from staying as strong as ever. Not even after Ten got his posting in a town a little far away from the one you guys lived in. The distance didn't change anything between you guys and you were as close as you could ever get. 

"Creepypasta?" Donghyuck inquired, looking straight at the guy who aimlessly scrolled down the screen of his device as Yuta didn't even bother looking up while passing the confused boy a nod. Sitting up cross legged from his previous side sitting posture, Yuta showed his phone screen to Donghyuck, who immediately got surrounded by the other two while you stare at the oldest in the room, slightly intrigued by the idea. "Creepypasta's like these horror-related legends that have been copied and pasted around the Internet by people who're too bored for their own sake." you explain as Haechan took the phone out of Yuta's hand who agreed to your explanation. "I read some sick games that I kinda wanna try out and see for myself," he said, looking at you with expectations and then the rest who seemed too immersed in surfing the website. 

"Yuta, you of all people should know better than to think all these made up crap's real" you say nonchalantly. 

Yuta's a huge skeptic, and so were you. Which is why you got along really well despite the mentioned age gap. The night gatherings back at the boy's dormitory or the girls (in this case, girl, yours) would always end up in narration of on spot made up stories of all genre, mostly horror because apparently according to Jaemin 'Rom-com's overhyped, sci-fi won't be fun when you narrate it out loud, mystery can easily turn boring, comedy, meh i guess, but a good horror story narrated properly, -yes, like you, Haechan- while adding jumpscares here and there could actually result in y'all being too scared to use the bathroom on your own'. And yeah, you'd startle here and there but the stories weren't believable enough for you to actually be scared. On the other hand, Haechan and Jaemin were scaredy cats. Literal toddler's who're so gullible, you could literally tell them there was an alien invasion news flash two minutes ago and they'd be hiding under their bed. And then there's Yangyang, he just doesn't care. He goes along with the plans solely for the fun of it and for the other's' (Haechan and Jaemin) reaction. "That's the point. I don't" he shuffled around to shift closer to you,

 "Which is exactly why i want to try them out" 

Maybe it's the feline that crossed over his body, maybe it was the fact that his spirit just wasn't ready to leave the human realm yet. Maybe it's the mourning of his family or maybe it's him himself knowing full too well his potential was truly wasted due to the fast departure. Whatever it was, his spirit was definitely made restless. 

The world is a cruel place where harsh actions are always sugar coated by honey like words. It's how he knew the doings of his people were wrong that made him disappointed. The practices of the people, his people, were stupid, meaningless and only harmful to the human kind. They fend off the satisfaction of their almighty even if that means that there needs to be sacrification of their loved ones, their nemesis, or them themselves. And it was his ancestors fault for starting all these practices. 

Passed down generations from generations was the curse put on the first of their bloodline by the princess he'd defied to go out and be ruthless by disregarding his duties as a husband, a father, a member of the royal courts and as a human being.

Lee Dong Wook. The root of all evil, the main reason the males of the family line faced the same wrath as him, all cursing at him but one namely enjoying his role. The pagans, dating back to the roman times era had a very, let's say, interesting method of punishing. The said lords they'd worship, the people following the religions had a strong belief that nature is sacred and that the natural cycles of birth, growth and death observed in the world around us carry profoundly spiritual meanings. Gods and goddesses of life, or say, death or anything else that exists beyond life and death, they believed in all. 

The doings of his ancestors started off innocent. Sacrifices to the lords of goodness and tranquility, a peaceful life by the towns and outskirts, forgiveness for wrong doings and of course, happiness. It's how any religious rituals would go about and all were happy until the said betrayer of the group came in with that curse of his. 'The doings of his shall be repented for all the men following shall be the one paying it,' 

At first glance when the man returned back to his royals, there were little to no suspicions of a curse being casted on him. He seemed normal to his family, his people except for the occasional forcing people to do something they despised. And it wasn't just the men of the family instead, it was all. But mostly the men, unless the same sin were to be committed by the females. Obscure behaviors have been asked to follow starting exactly at midnight to the witch's hour be it hurting your loved one, your enemy, doing sinful things, allowing self to get manipulated and mostly, shortening their own life time in the human realm. It was all unexplainable. Why was he asking people to do things like this but most of all, why are they even listening to him? 

It wasn't until they discovered that Dong Wook, for one, was never the one who returned home. On a second note, he, 'Dong Wook' mainly only targeted the men whose doings were similar to his that was fueled by the same sin that had him going. Which only remained undiscovered. The curse was unbeknownst to all still, Dong Wook himself remained undiscovered. Or proposed by the elders of the community, his body remained undiscovered while his spirit roamed restless among the people. 

The pagan romanticists are, in most cases, ignorant of the “paganism” they praise—the redeemed paganism of Christianity depicted in the transfigured water of the True Well of Life. Wrestling with the Greek gods, however, leads us to see the hyper-anthropomorphization of the gods with one intention in mind—justification of sexual lusts and displays of power over the weak.

The oldest written account of the Greek deities is from Hesiod. His Theogony, literally “birth of the gods,” charts out the genealogies of the major and minor deities in two branches. The first set of gods come into existence without sex. The second set of gods come into existence with sex; often very graphic and violent sex and they continue to have violent sex after their birth. 

As Hesiod continues to describe the birth and death of the gods and great monsters of antiquity, the chaining of Prometheus to his eternal torment is described. So too is Hades’ rape of Persephone. Battle is depicted left and right, and “a terrible din arose from their dreadful wrath, and the work of power was revealed”. Lust, sex, and war reign supreme in Hesiod’s telling of the birth of the gods. Moreover, it is from this brutality and carnality that Hesiod gives them praise—only those with enough cunning and ambition are worthy of having the praise of the muses.

That the gods birthed through sexual lust are themselves lustful was not missed by Christians of the pagan community. Though St. Augustine received the Romanized version of the Greek myths, he goes to great lengths and laborious pains—using the pagans’ own prophecies —to highlight the moral depravity of the gods in Confessions and City of God.

His sin, after all the years, was lust and the want to dominate. 

'Lust though pleasurable, innocent and vice, thee shall stay loyal to thy partner regardless of wants. To betray thy partner is to deceive thy people and hence the kingdom. Thou shall pay for thy soul shall remain wandering, driven by the desires but, shall not be able to feel the human love thou took for a grain of salt. And all who shall follow thy steps shall face the same wrath.'

Oh, how lust was a dangerous feeling. 

29/10 continued. 11:28PM

It's how you all circled around in the living room like any other day that was comical to you. Instead of reading out your own made up story, it so happened to be the Creepypastas Yuta screenshotted for what he wanted to try out and see for himself. It wasn't even his idea to read them out. Haechan and Jaemin's 'too curious for their own sake' selves were the ones who wanted to read it out loud. "How about we sit in the order of who's gonna read out what and when?" Yangyang suggested, standing up from his seat. "Yuta read out the topics and we'll pick randomly." 

"No fun! Hold up," Haechan did some pretty exaggerated hand actions before getting up and heading to his room, well, Jaemin's room to do who knows what. "Okay? I'll get the candles!" Yangyang said, him getting out of his seat too, "And I'll go get the bible, jesus christ" and Jaemin was out of his seat too. You look at Jaemin in a funny manner, as though questioning him with your eyes if he's actually going to get a bible or not, "What? I don't want to die young, I'm too hot for that" he said, before following Haechan's steps to his bedroom, "Yikes, you aren't going to die dude" 

"Okayy, I'm back, make way bitches" Haechan dictated to which he earned a few groans and a smack on the ankle from Yuta, "Jaemin! I can't find the candles!" "It's beside the Reese's cups! Second rack inside of the refrigerator!" Jaemin says while walking back up to your tiny circle with an empyre comic in his hand and a cross pendant dangling off of his neck, "That's a bible?" you question. "Shush, do not question the power of avengers and fantastic four." Jaemin replies, holding the comic up close to his chest. You all collectively dismiss it with a concerned look directed towards the male, "Are we not going to question the fact that Jaemin keeps his candles inside the fridge?" 

"So here's what we're going to do, I've got these tiny papers which have numbers from 1 to 5,because we're five people and I've folded the paper into chits, once i toss it, we pick random sheets and the number you get is when your turn to read is, any objections?" Haechan explained, "Even if you have any, keep it to yourself because I don't care" he bites in again while juggling the folded sheets in a closed palm while the other supports his body by it being planted behind him. "Okay I'm back with the candles" Yangyang finally joins in on the circle, completing it, "You took that long to find one candle?" Yuta asks, "No i was eating the reese's cups" he replied, wiping his hand on your jean clad thighs earning him a loud whine of 'Eww that's disgusting man' and a little too far from soft smacks on his shoulder, "You piece of sh-" Jaemin starts, "Okay all, Focus!" Haechan cuts him off, ready to throw the bits onto the space between the five of you in front of the now lit candle (Thank you, Yuta), and so he tossed it a little high up from the ground, letting the paper fall of his palms and onto the floor while being cautious of not throwing it anywhere near the flame. 

"Now let's arrange ourselves according to the numbers, who's number one?" Haechan asks, Yuta raises his hands while pointing at where he's sitting, "I'm not getting up, y'all arrange yourself so that the person going second is to my right and the last person would be to my left", you all look at him nonchalantly, "What?" with a shake of your head, you proceed calling out numbers, "Number two?" Haechan shoves Yangyang back to take his place beside Yuta, "bitch." Yangyang seats himself beside Haechan, followed by Jaemin and lastly, you. 

"First, Yuta!" Jaemin slurs the elders name, receiving a death glare from his cousin. Nevertheless, Yuta cleared up his throat and switched his attention to his phone screen, "The first urban legend is from Japan, ironically." He states as a matter of fact, "It's called Aka Manto."

"Aka manto is an urban legend related to toilets—particularly those in elementary schools.-"

"Is that why you take a relatively long time inside of the bathroom? Are you, you know? Tickling pickles with Aka Mant-ow! Sorry!" Yangyang was wasted as he was tackled onto the floor by Yuta, while the rest of you cracked up, "Now let's get a little serious, come onnn!" Haechan whines. 

"This phenomenon is known all over Japan, with countless variations on the same theme. It usually takes place in a specific stall in a specific bathroom in the school. Usually it is an older or seldom used bathroom, often in a stall with an older style squat toilet.  Often the fourth stall is the cursed one, as the number four is associated with death." "I'm so glad our university has only two stalls," Jaemin chimes in, suddenly grasping the cross pendant. 

"Most stories follow this general pattern: while at school late in the evening, a student suddenly finds him or herself in desperate need of a toilet. The closest restroom available is one that is normally avoided by the students; it is older and less well-kept, separated from the rest of the school, and is rumored to be haunted. But with no time to search for a different restroom, the student enters. He or she does their business, and when they have finished, they reach for the toilet paper only to find that there is none. Then they hear a strange voice" Yuta looks up from the phone screen, "“Do you want red paper? Or blue paper?”" 

"None bitch, give me the classic white,"

With a roll of his eyes, Yuta continues, "If the student answers, Red paper, moments later, they're stabbed and sliced up violently that blood seeps out of them, painting the walls of the stall red and it soaks up into their body, making them appear red", "And if the student responds blue paper, then their blood is going to be sucked up dry, leaving them dead and blue-faced on the floor."

"But! If you try to outsmart Aka Manto, by replying to question with, i don't know, "Yellow paper" then too, dead is inevitable, you will be shoved onto the floor where the spirit is said hold your head down in the dirty toilet water until you drown and well, die" Yuta ends with a shrug of his shoulder, "Seems pretty bullshit to me" and you agree alongside, though, it could be a little creepy if the existing legend did turn out to be true. "Okay next!"

Yuta leans back a little more, pressing onto your side which you took as an invitation to lean on his shoulder. When you did so, all Yuta did was beam at you and wrap his arms around you to keep you close after handing the phone over to Haechan, "If you want me to start reading you have to give it up for me. Give me the grand welcome that i deserve" the lad said in a childish voice which again only earned him a few smacks and half hearted applauds. "So this one is apparently called, the one man hide and seek" though all narrations were being taken on a lighter note, the mood set in the room gave you enough space to picture the stories, added to that came the factor that Donghyuck knows exactly how to narrate what. 

"The "One-Man Hide and Seek", also known as the "One-Man Tag," is a ritual for contacting the dead. The spirits, which are wandering restless on the Earth, are always looking for bodies to possess. In this ritual, you will summon such a spirit, by offering it a doll instead of a human body." He lowers his voice while focusing solely on the screen.

"The warnings say that if you have any psychic abilities, you may feel unwell or be prone to accidents during the ritual." He raises his eyebrows, looking at all four of you in a curious manner. The things you need for this game seems lowkey sketch"

"One stuffed doll. It must have limbs, Rice, enough to stuff the doll full. One needle, and one crimson thread. One pair of nail clippers. One sharp-edged tool, such as a knife, glass shard, or scissors. One cup of salt water. Natural salt would be best. A bathroom, with a bathtub and some form of counter. A hiding place, preferably a room purified by incense and ofuda. There must be a TV in there." Haechan's face contorts with each requirement for the game. Letting out a defeated sigh, he hands the phone over to Yangyang, "Of all the stories i could've narrated, i got chosen for this and for what? Just to contact stupid poltergeists. Just play a ouija board and go" 

Giving Haechan a sympathetic pat on the back, he takes the device. Looking through the screen he cracks up a smile, "Alright, listen up closely. This is an Urban legend classic"

"The Slender Man-" a bunch of 'aahhs' of realization resonate through the room

"-is a supernatural creature that is described as appearing as a normal human being but he is described as being 8 feet tall and he has vectors or extra appendages that are described to be as sharp as swords. The creature is known to stalk humans and cause many disappearances. He is described as a shadow creature that has a missing face. The creature fits into many mythologies in legends from nations such as germany and celts which brings up the possibility that he could be real." Yangyang pauses to add in a little more life to his reading while all of your paid full concentration to him

"A man named victor Surge found this legend and made his own version of it which he called slender man. The slender man is not exactly evil according to mythology but victor Surge’s version shows him as an evil creature that stalks humans to kill. In mythology he was actually trying to save you from a painful death by taking you to the underworld early." he ends, placing the phone down in front of him, screen down. "Kills you to save you from a death and collectively shortens your lifespan? Seems legit to me" Jaemin chimes in while the rest of you chuckle whereas Haechan pouted at the device in front of his friend, "I should've gotten that story" 

"My turn!" 

"So, ahem-" Once the focus is all on him,Jaemin  looks down onto the device containing his part of narration. "- This is an urban legend about a girl named Daruma who was a young Japanese woman that died in the bathroom, which upon entering to take a bath, it stumbled and her forehead ended up against the edge of the tube, destroying it the brain, at the same time that her eye embedded in the tube , leaving it in consequence, one-eyed key and later , dead by bleed out."  "Oh god ouch" You hiss as though your forehead was the one that hit the edge, " Her appearance as described is apparently; black hair that is entangled, her clothes rotting and made shreds. She only has one eye. Her left eye is completely open and injected with blood." "That's gruesome," Yangyang adds, earning a nod from Jaemin who's eyes were still fixated on the screen. "And apparently there's a ritual that you can follow to summon her into your house for twenty four hours straight" At the silence, he continues. "I'll shorten it, so you have to begin it right before your bedtime, shed all your clothing and enter your bathroom, turn off all the lights and fill in your bathtub, climb into it while being seated facing faucet, close your eyes and start washing your hair while chanting "Daruma-san fell down" and keep chanting that until you're done washing your hair, and yeah don't open your eyes."

"If you did it right then you'll get this image of a japanese who'll slip and fall in front of you. Even if you hear a noise behind you, do not open your eyes, no matter what it takes, Ask out loud, 'why did you fall in the bathtub' and let that hang in the air. With your eyes still closed, get up and out of the tub and be careful not to slip and do not drain the tub. Go to your room, don't turn the lights on, shut the bathroom door closed and sleep. Wake up the next day and carry on with your day and you'll apparently feel her presence alongside you all day. She'll constantly try getting close to you, when she does, scream 'Tomare!',"

"That means stop," Yuta adds to which you all hum in understanding.

"To end the game, capture her gaze from over your shoulder and say 'Kitta' which means 'I cut you loose' while swinging your arm in a chopping motion. If you followed the procedures then you'll be rewarded but if not then, run. That's all it says here" He stops, looking a little shaken at how he created an image of it all in his mind. "They didn't say how to get rid of her if you fail following the procedure?" you ask

"No." Jaemin shrugs it off

"Alright boys, my turn"

30th October, Friday, 10:53PM

It's probably how you read out your part of story telling, or it was how he felt the game was a little too unrealistic that had Yuta hooked onto the urban legend. 

Yuta found himself at his dorm doing a little more research on the midnight ritual. A backpack already consisting of all the elements required for the game, 'could it really be played just by one person?'. Whatever it was, he really wanted to do the game. He wanted someone to accompany him, of course. But knowing his friend group, not many would be ready to play it alongside. Doyoung was probably busy preparing his resumes for his job interviews. Johnny's all the way back in Chicago for a little family time. Ten was a little too far from your town so he'd feel bad calling him all the way over just to perform a probably demonic ritual. Donghyuck and Jaemin are out of the question, they'd obviously say no. Yangyang has a company party to attend as the heir. And you had to study for your test on Monday so he didn't really feel like disturbing you though, he did inform you that he was going out to have some fun and that you could join him anytime. Closing his laptop with a sigh, he gets up and walks over to where his bag was sprawled across the floor, picks it up and makes his way out of the studio apartment like dormitory after grabbing his car keys. 

Not like he believed it was real, it's incase if the legend turns out to be even the slightest of reality, he wasn't going to get his dormitory haunted, instead opting to perform it at the house he grew up in, his childhood house. That was left abandoned ever since they moved out months before his younger brother was born after his father had an episode still unknown to him inside the place. It was convenient enough to perform the ritual in and no one lives there anymore, and it was just a few minutes from where his house was anyways. 

Reaching the place and swinging the backpack over his shoulder, he makes his way into the surprisingly still intact house. Not much time to waste, looking around, Yuta slowly made his way up the wooden stairs, the wood creaking with each step he took to prove the existence of this house dated long back. The guest room shut lock from lack of human souls even when they used to live there. The paintings still hung off of a single screw, nostalgia hitting him straight as he recalled the one time he was playing catch with a neighbor's kid and ended up breaking the glass frame. The wallpaper's adhesive seemingly had gotten weaker from how they had started coming out from nooks and crannies of the walls. The place, without doubt, looked a little creepy but nonetheless felt homely. 

Switching on all switches from the main controller that was in the control room right by the end of the hallway, the entire darkness was replaced with light as the bulbs shockingly still seemed to function. The warm white colour of the lights took Yuta all the way back to his growing up years, missing all the fun he'd had there and all the memories he'd created. He, though grew up mostly by himself from how busy his parents were on the weekdays and sometimes the weekends, missed them more now that they live far off in Japan with his mother's family. Especially now that he was in the place they spent the most time together in. Shaking his head, he had no trouble navigating his way to his childhood room. Where he set the bag down.

He reached out to his back pocket to get out his phone, switching it on as the screen illuminated, 11:28PM, the screen read. To kill the time, Yuta set up all the items required in place to proceed the ritual smoothly. He pulled his laptop out of the backpack once he was all set to maybe watch something on the internet. It being other peoples attempt at the ritual he was about to perform.

11:55PM.

Yuta inhaled, having only a few more minutes until he had to proceed. He recalled your words,

"Alright boys, my turn" You snatch the phone out of Jaemin's hand who seemed really immersed in finding out more about the legend he just read out about, earning a pout from him. "I was reading" he let out in a whiny tone immediately going stoic after receiving a 'do i care' look from your end. "Okay, so the story I'm going to read out is called the midnight man, or the midnight game" You scroll back and forth through the pages the oldest of the group screenshotted. "From what he's gathered, there's not much backstory, but apparently it's a ritual or mostly a punishment that the pagan's use to punish the betrayer of the group who failed to stay loyal to their lords or the group. One of the people of the religion will summon the midnight man to an abandoned house where they lock up the said betrayer who'll then be put through god knows what by the midnight stranger," You stop to look up from the screen to look at each of your friends before letting out a sigh. 

"My take on this though is that it's highly impossible since the rules here state that once you start the ritual you aren't allowed the leave the place until the game is completely done unless you want the midnight man to follow you around for as long as you live, so unless the midnight man actually favored the pagans, there's no way they could punish the betrayer without one of the loyal ones passing away along with the one being punished" you state, "But what if, it's the midnight man that they preach? You know, like, they could be praying the midnight man" Haechan adds in a point which seemed to make sense, "That's possible too" 

"Why would someone preach an evil entity? That's so sketch" Jaemin asks perplexed. "They did a lot of sketchy things back in the days, Jaem. I wouldn't question it," Yuta chirps. "Is there any other backstory given about the midnight man?" Yangyang finally speaks up, "Well not really, but when i was taking screenshots of this it apparently started with a curse on someone whose identity is unknown to most. There was no such thing as the midnight game or ritual until the said bewitched man came back into town. I only know up to there, but there are high chances that he's probably the origin of the ritual." Yuta explains. "Why does Y/n get the best always, that's so unfair"  Haechan's dramatic self whines while leaning onto Yangyang who rolled his eyes but nonetheless threw his hands around the latter's shoulder, "Anyways, the procedure for the ritual is given here."

"You need one candle, a lighter or a match box or anything that ignites fire, a piece of paper, something to write with, a sharp object, it could be a pin, it just needs to be something sharp enough to draw blood, a wooden door, and salt for protection-" You read out, "Now why the fuck would they need blood," Jaemin asks, shaken up. "That's for them to know and us to find out" 

"Here's how the invitation for the midnight man goes. Begin prior to midnight," 

Yuta stood up from his bed, and walked up to the backpack on the floor, picking out the papers he'd brought along and took out a blunt pencil. 

"Write your full name- first, middle, and last- on the piece of paper with your writing implement." He wrote syllable by syllable, Nakamoto Yuta. "Prick your finger with the pin and squeeze until a drop of blood appears. Dot the blood on the paper and allow it to soak in. Turn off every light in your home." He took out the small safety pin he brought along from his jean pocket, pressing his fingers hard and pricked into the skin as hard as he could, keeping in mind to not draw too much blood. Yuta let the droplet fall right in the space between his last name and first. 

"Place the paper with your name and blood on it in front of the closed wooden door. Light the candle using the matches or lighter and place it on top of the paper. If you are using a taper, make sure it is placed in a candle holder." He walks up to the door and places down the paper with his name and blood on it, with the half melted scented candle he brought along. Yuta took out his phone once again, 11:59. "Knock on the door 22 times. The final knock must occur precisely when the clock chimes 12am. Open the door; then blow out the candle and close the door. Relight your candle immediately." He starts to knock on the door, drumming on the dusty wood, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

He checks the time once again, 12:00AM.

He leans down to pick the glass jar containing the candle, relighting it, 

"I welcome you."

Taeyong loved the tiny creatures in the human realm. They were so naive and so, stupid but weirdly smart at the same time that made playing with them ten times more interesting. The callings from them, or the way they say it in the human realm, summoning the spirit was the only way he could gain access to enter the place. Summoning wasn't even necessary. Saying his name out was more than enough for him to go up to you. Midnight man, midnight stranger, midnight visitor, pagan's god, What not had the human's named him. 

The only one besides his ancestor of said curse that enjoyed the power of punishing people was Taeyong himself. The youngest of the bloodline and the freshest of pagan's spirit, he loved the power he had. Sure he had no access to love, instead besides lust and range he felt nothing, maybe amusement too, but none other than that and he seemed perfectly fine with that. Human's always seeked lust more than love either way so he found no problem in being void of feeling a vulnerable emotion. Instead, he found love pathetic. Watching human's from where he lived, he'd seen all from men and women seeking love by going to heights of trouble only to waste away your remaining life with one partner. Leeching off of pleasure at times when you had a significant other. He always got a hearty laugh from all of that. According to him, if you want someone, get them. Instead of tailing them and trying to be a goody two shoes, just make them yours in a way that's inevitable for them to fall for you. Control how they feel. Easier said than done since he was the only one with the ability to do so, 'how fucking pitiful'.

So when he saw you and your small group of friends discussing about him, laughing at all the assumptions you made along the way, he wanted each of you to himself. "My take on this though is that it's highly impossible since the rules here state that once you start the ritual you aren't allowed to the leave the place until the game is completely done unless you want the midnight man to follow you around for as long as you live, so unless the midnight man actually favored the pagans, there's no way they could punish the betrayer without one of the loyal ones passing away along with the one being punished" you're smart and that was intriguing to him. He liked the way you thought of things and the male beside you too, you both seemed to take tales of him as a grain of salt and that, besides angering him, made him feel the want to prove himself to you. Taeyong found the other three cute, seemingly scared of him just the way he liked it. 

His ancestor's who held the same power as him, the curse actually, came to be known as said lord because of their power of manipulation and to inject in their worst nightmare into their minds that had the people divide themselves into groups. One that believed the power they had was for the good and considered them to be their god, their savior. And the other being the one's scared of their power and the fear that the same faith would bestow upon them that had them pray for forgiveness for sins they never committed. So your friend had the point a little, but it was inaccurate. They believed him. Believed Taeyong and feared his power. He loved people bowing down in front of him, eyes trembling and body shivering. It gave him a sense of dictatorship. And he had set his mind to have both of you non-believers fear him. 

Having been brought up with little to no love, Taeyong followed down the same path as his great grandfather. Not having enough time to feel the vulnerable emotion, he chose to go down the path of pleasure and power play. His powers though, seemingly stronger than the past generations, probably due to the fact that he was young, ruthless and free of care. He could make himself appear physically in the human realm in any shape and form, though he always preferred to go in his original, but less scarier form. His visuals were out of the world. He didn't have to scare people to make them obey, instead all he had to do was pretend to be there and just be himself and that only made humans seem even pathetic to him. 

"Relight your candle immediately"

12:01PM, The main event. 

"Keeping your candle in hand and your salt and matches or lighter close by, begin to move about your home. Should your candle go out, you must relight it within the next ten seconds.  If you are successful, continue moving about your home. Do not stop moving until 3:33 am. If you are unsuccessful in relighting the candle, immediately surround yourself with a circle of salt.  Remain inside the circle until 3:33 am. At 3:33 am, it is safe to stop moving or to step outside your circle of salt. You may also turn on the lights. The game Is Over."* You conclude. Hissing slightly at the sudden pain by your shoulder that was exposed from the minimalistic clothing you'd adorned, the stranger looking over it all smirked to himself. 'Got it'

Yuta opened the door again, mindful to keep his phone back in his jean pocket along with the lighter and of course, the salt be brought along. Starting from the end of the hallway, nothing seemed to change except now, the eerie silence was starting to bother him, 'Just 3 hours to go,'. He didn't miss a single corner, walking room to room, corner to corner, mindful to stay inside all the way. The temperature of certain rooms seemingly lesser than others. A cold pocket. 

"There are few warnings too," you swipe the image to go to the next one, "At 3:33 am, the Midnight Man will leave your home. After he has left, you may safely end the game. Do NOT turn on any lights during the game.  Do NOT use a flashlight during the game. Do NOT go to sleep during the game. Do NOT use a lighter instead of a candle during the game." Check. He had a lighter on him just to relight the candle anyways. 

Taeyong, following the guy seemed to be quite impressed by his bravery. Not even the slightest of shaken up as he proceeded to walk about the villa. That's good, no slip ups and he seemed too good to mess anything up either ways, and that bored the entity. Where's the fun if he just succeeded? 

To avoid the candle from going off at the sudden flickering, Yuta covered it up the best he could with his hands and checked around whether any windows were left open. Darkness engulfed the surrounding all of a sudden, the lad being taken aback, 10 seconds. He rushed to take out his lighter, 9,  pressing the button repeatedly to ignite the flame only to get a small blue flame instead, huh? 8, running back full speed happy that he was in the premises of where his backpack is, he pulled the spare lighter, a brand new one out of the side pocket, 7, repeating the same process of flicking the button over and over, 6 until a bright orange flame engulfed the dark room, 5, he immediately grabbed his candle from besides the bag, 4 reaching in close by the wick, burning himself slightly in 3-, the process. Yuta heaves out a sigh of relief, while the spirit laughs at the frantic boy. 'He's cute.'

For a breaker, he took out his phone, looking at the time that seemed to pass by quickly throughout the ritual, 2:47 AM. A little more while to go until he'd finally get it over with. "Do not attempt to provoke the Midnight Man during the game." You ended for the nth time that night, "Which idiot would-" Yangyang asks "Haechan-" Jaemin pretends to cough while blurting out his best friends name, the mentioned feigning offence while tilting his head to the side, tongue poking at the insides of his cheek. "Seems like that's pretty much it." you shrug while the older guy beside you leaning back on both of his hands, "I kinda wanna try that out" Yuta raised his eyebrows at you. "Halloween night? We all go together" you chirp in, both of you whipping your heads to look at the three perplexed boys. "Uh, I have to water my fish on halloween? She'd get pretty thirsty". Jaemin's eyes wandered about, coming up with an excuse, "And I gotta walk my rock yo, physical fitness." Haechan adds, "Can I bring my fish along? She could use some exercising". 

"Come on guys, it won't be that bad, we'll stick in a group?" You pleaded, trying your best to muster up the cutest puppy eyes. "I'm down" Yangyang shrugs. You do a tiny seal clap, looking expectedly at the other two, Yangyang and Yuta doing the same. "We stick together?" Haechan asks, to which the three of you nod your head, 

"Alright then we're down too"

[3:04AM 30th, October. ]

A few more minutes left until he'd succeed, Yuta was starting to grow tired of constantly roaming. He'd usually not the one to wear out that quickly, but for a reason unknown to him, he felt utterly sleepy, tired, hungry and just wanted to lie down. He decided to take a small break, the candle still light, dangerously flickering but yet still intact. Yuta sat by the foot of the stairs as Taeyong looked at him with the same cocky smirk on his face, contemplating whether to pop out or not. 'Maybe let's make it subtle? '

Taking up the form of a black humanoid figure, Taeyong makes his way towards Yuta whose eyes seem to be dropping low with each passing second. Upon hearing the sounds of footsteps Yuta looks up, a hand on his forehead from the sudden throbbing headache. Letting out a loud yell at the figure in front of him that disappeared almost immediately, he rushed to grab his lighter again. The sudden temperature drop made him shudder. Taking out the new lighter, he pressed the button again and again as the time limit started to exhaust, 6, at a successful fire, he reached for his candle, only for the flame to go off when it neared the candle wick. "what the fuck.." 5, "come on.." he stated in a rushed voice, sure that he just saw whatever he saw once again. Finally flicking the button one last time, he succeeded in lighting the candle. 

Contrary to popular belief, the midnight man didn't always radiate death. Sometimes he just messes around with the humans because the underworld could get a little boring. And as the curse states death and wrath is only to be faced by those who sinned and the boy playing right now seemed to be of no threat. All Taeyong wanted to do was get the guy to believe in his existence. Skeptics were like an insult to him. So if he had to prove himself and his existence on his own, then so be it. He gets some pretty good experience out of it anyways. 

Yuta stood up immediately, remembering the warning's you'd stated, "Do not stop moving until 3:33am", walking back up the stairs, he took out his phone to check the time, 3:29am. Almost. 

The same sounds of footsteps resonated from behind him, Yuta took an immediate U-turn. Going back down the stairs and roaming the empty, dark hallways, making sure to enter each and every room, keeping a mental note to thank his parents for having a slightly confusing infrastructure. The wax was almost completely out in the glass jar, but he had to hang in there for a little longer than 2 more minutes when he felt something brush his shoulder, much similar to how a friend would drape their hands over his/her friends' shoulder. He could've brushed it off as anything if it weren't for the sharp pain he felt right after the feeling of someone touching him. He's getting the proof he wants. Almost as if someone pulled his hoodie, Yuta stumbled back, letting out a shaky scream, tripping on his own foot, landing butt down onto the floor, catching a glimpse of the same humanoid figure he'd been seeing. He needs to get out of there. 

Stumbling back onto his feet, Yuta bolted it upstairs, grabbing his phone once again to check the time, 3:32am. Reaching his room, he set the candle down right beside him, vary of the windows and doors, starting to back his backpack, the sounds of rushed footsteps running start to where he is ringing through his ears, hands shakingly packing his bag. Keeping the candle closeby, contemplating whether to draw a salt circle or not since there was only less than half a minute left when the same humanoid figure neared him with fast footsteps, reaching by the door frame with a loud agonizing scream only to disappear immediately. 

Not realising the stress of tears flowing and the tresses sticking to his forehead, Yuta looked at the door frame in a perplexed yet confused manner. What the fuck was that. 

Taking out his phone once again while grabbing his backpack, laptop and the car keys in the other hand, 3:34 am. He'd made it through. After reaching the front door, not even bothering to close it, he rushed to his car, starting it before pulling up your contacts, seeing the messages he'd never sent you. 

Yuta san 1:39am: The boys said they won't make it tomorrow, it's gonna be just you and i

Y/nleE 1:43am: Why not? 

Yuta san 1:45am: Dk, they said they aren't interested. So come near xxxx tomorrow at 11:30. I'll meet you there. 

Y/nleE 1:48am: Coolsies. 

Yuta san 3:38am: Y/n don't come here, gather the boys and meet me by Haechan's dorm tomorrow. The game's no fucking joke. 

And with that he started driving away quickly to his dormitory, not once looking back at the house to see a human. Or a human like figure standing there, A bright red hair standing out due to his blood drained looking pale skin. A smirk on his face

Message not delivered. 

31st October, 22:37PM, 2020.

Today was a weird day, 

Having all plan's set two days before, you'd make sure to keep yourself ready for whatever you and your friend group were supposed to do today. You finished up all your assignments earlier that day to keep yourself free from afternoon and on. 

The weird part was that, no matter how much you kept your phone for charge, each time you tried calling one of the guys to ask for the sudden bailing out on plan, which is a shocker because they've never done that, your phone kept switching off. You could've gone all the way to their apartment, well, dorm, but you decided to wait until later to do so. Maybe a few minutes before leaving to the place Yuta texted you so that they'd have no choice but to come along. Since your last time texting with Yuta, you hadn't heard from him. Granted, he did text you quite late at night saying he's going to do god knows what and to tell you of the sudden plan change, but you hadn't heard from him after, that being weird since he literally lives a floor below yours, he could've come any moment but nope. You kept a mental note to tell him off later. 

You took out your phone once again to check if they'd sent any messages or missed calls only to have an empty chat box, other than that of your other friends that is. Added on top of that came the constant pricking feeling on your shoulder blades from the last day you hung out with the boys. The pain would appear randomly and it would be hurtful enough to draw blood, which is weird considering the fact that you kept yourself away from all sharp objects and had a full sleeve covering the area. 

One stone, two birds. Taeyong's motto. 

After having interfered with your phone, your friends, trying to keep you away from them until you'd go through the same as your other skeptic partner, Taeyong made sure that Yuta would be sick enough after returning home to keep him from even getting up from his bed. Temporary paralysis. Your other friends, of course they tried reaching out to you, only for him to cut the service to keep you away from them for a while. They got easily distracted from you ignoring their texts as they were focused on reaching out to Yuta. 

Unknown: Hey Y/n, I'm Yuta's friend. He told me you aren't replying to his texts so asked me to do so. 

Y/n: Who's this? 

Unknown: Oh! I'm Taeyong! A close friend of well, your friend XD. 

Y/n: Nice to meet you, Taeyong. I'm Y/n but it seems like you already know that. 

Unknown: Yeah :). Yuta's on his way here and told me that you'd be joining us? Are you nearby?

Y/n: He left? No, actually, I'm just leaving my place. I guess I'll meet you there? 

Taeyong: Meet ya :)

[23:22PM, 31st October, 2020 continued. ]

Hailing a cab to the address Yuta had sent you with his friends, Taeyong's number saved on your phone in case the later won't pick up, you left your place. Still feeling a little eerie from how Yuta just decided to leave you behind when he could've just offered to go together, which is pure Yuta style. He probably wasn't in the best of moods but he could've at least texted you letting you know of his departure from the apartment building. 

The journey to the given address didn't take that long surprisingly. A little towards the outskirts of the town in a much aloof part but nonetheless, doable. It's not like you'd be alone there any ways. Paying for your fare, you took your purse, brushed your fingers through your hair to tame it a little from the ride, and turned towards the building, jumping slightly at the bright haired guy sitting by the front porch. Adorning the simplest of fit, a black knee slit jeans, with a graphic tee and a black leather jacket with a chain or two. He, in no doubts, was ethereal. His pale skin stood out the most in the street light if you could call it that and his lips seemed a little drained of blood, eyes hollow yet captivating when he looked up from the dirt below him to you who still stood yards away. Smiling, he got up, making his way towards after brushing off the invisible lint from his jeans, "Hey" he offered you his hands for you to shake upon reaching you. "Hey..? Taeyong, right?" 

Wanting so badly to smirk, he only looked down with a silent snicker, looking up immediately to not look suspicious, "Yeah, Y/n..?" you nod in response, shuddering from the coldness of his skin, "Have you been out for too long? You're freezing," you exclaim, looking at him with a guilty expression and taking a mental note to hit Yuta for not arriving earlier. "Oh no, i just reached a minute or two prior to your arrival." you nod in understanding, withdrawing your hands from his hold, "By the way, Yuta called me a few minutes ago, telling me that he wouldn't make it and to just carry on" Taeyong said, looking at you with his eyebrows raised at your confused, innocent expression, his humane form threatening to change into his original form. "What? Why? It's like,-" you look down at your wrist watch, "11:50! And he's bailing out now?", smiling at you in fake sympathy, he replied, "he said he had other things to take care of," "But you said he'd left the place and was on his way here?" you ask, hands on either sides of your hip, "Last minute plan changes" Taeyong shrugs, "Anyways, let's get inside?" 

He pointed towards the front door with both his hands, gesturing you to go forward first. And so you do. You offer him a smile before turning your back towards him and making your way towards the old house, the door seemingly open. Climbing up the stairs with caution, humming at the sound of dried leaves crunching up below your feet with each footstep. Taeyong stood behind where you two had introduced yourselves for a few minutes, a few more minutes. "Taeyong? Are you not coming?" you turn around slightly, looking over your shoulder at lad standing still, "Yeah, I'm coming" he replied soullessly, still standing his group until he saw you open the door ajar and then took his first step forward. Not bothering to go too quick. 

The insides were simple, very very simple yet magnificent. The flooring seemed to be that of wooden finishing that creaked with each step you took, implying that of how old the infrastructure must be. You look around in awe, clutching at the sling bag that you carried along. You go corner to corner, not bothering to look behind to see if the friendly stranger was hot on your trail, instead seemingly being captivated by the olden time-ish wallpapers and paintings and antique pieces that the wall adorned. Taeyong on the other hand was just growing restless, 4 more minutes until he could play his next victim, he was growing frantic. He did follow you inside, instead opting to walk the opposite direction as you, towards where he'd hidden the paper with your crimson blood and name written on it, contemplating whether to just tear it and carry on proving his existence to the female in the room. 3 more minutes, he bit into his lips, "Taeyong? Look, i found something!" He heard you scream.

Puffing out a breath of frustration, Taeyong replied "Coming!" and he walked out of the room, hands in his pocket towards where you stood by the bottom of the stairs, looking at the lighter in your hand that seemed relatively unused. "I found lighter down here" you look at him with a tiny pout evident on your lips, looking back and forth between the candle and the guy, puzzled. "It must be some thugs who came here to smoke or something" He shrugged it off, taking the lighter out of your hand. It must be you over analyzing things but without a single light turned on in the villa with only your flashlight acting as a source of light, but Taeyong looked even more lifeless than before. Eyes dark ebony and dangerous, somehow intimidating, lips adorning a bright shade of red in contrast to how you saw it the first time, and his aura had seemingly darkened. 2 more minutes. You shake your head and walk up the stairs and towards a room which has it's door wide open. Choosing to lay out your things there, you stretch out a few stiff limbs, "So, me and the boys were planning on doing the midnight game, you know. One of those stupid creepy pastas? I can't believe all of them bailed out on me last minute," you speak particularly to no one in the room, assuming that Taeyong was listening to you, whose ears only perked up at the words midnight and stupid. Midnight. 00:00Am. The devil smirked to himself. Midnight, at last. 

"I mean, Yangyang, Jaemin and Haechan came off as no shock to me- they're the other friend's by the way, but Yuta, it's weird for him to at least not let me know." You keep going, scrolling through your phone screen, only for it to load suddenly, No internet access. Sighing, you pull out offline downloads, "Did he tell you anything else? Like if he's feeling unwell or something?" you ask, letting the question float in the air, waiting for a reply. Getting known even after the passing of a few seconds, a minute too maybe, "Taeyong?" you stand up from the bed, well, the bed frame and make your way outside, "Tae?" you look left and right, searching for any moving soul when you feel your phone vibrate in your hands, and the sound of notification resonates through the eerie silence. You look down at the device in your hand, one new message from Yuta san and an immediate black out of the screen. Impossible. 

You remembered full well charging your phone to a hundred percent before leaving your dorm. Hell, you even kept it on airplane mode your whole cab ride. Shrugging it off, you keep your phone beside your bag and then proceed to go out to look for your new friend? acquaintance? You didn't even know how to classify him as yet. "Tae, if you're trying to scare me, I'll give you heads up, it doesn't work on me." you chuckle, walking to the room beside the one you were previously lounging in. "It's past midnight and we both seem too uninterested to try out whatever we were supposed to anyways, how about we just head out?" you start, looking down at your wrist watch which displayed 00:09 on the screen in neon green. "I mean, it was stupid enough that my friends and i even decided to try it out knowing it's some made up shit to scare some seven olds, probably" you continue, feeling as though you're talking to the walls at the lack of response. "Taeyong, come on. I'm growing bored." 

"Tae-" "You know, the way you logicised made it seem like you're smart enough. It was impressive," you hear his voice, a little too hoarse and plain for your liking, he continued before you could muster up a reply, "But seems like you aren't all that smart after all, seeing how you believed a total stranger and are even ready to spend time with him." you look around the place, only hearing his voice but his figure to be nowhere near you, "Taeyong, what are you talking about?" you head out of the room you currently stood in, jogging to catch his voice.

"It was a little angering you know? The way you spoke about me and my followers, it was disrespectful. And I could've taken you then and there, but what to do. You seemed too cute to take your soul without a small game? Is that what you humans call it?" You feel breathing fanning the nape of your neck and a cold air following it right after, making you turn back, "Your friend got his share of play" you whip your head forward, finally seeing the male in front of you, standing by the door frame of a connective hallway, you swore you felt his presence behind you though. His infamous smirk still adorning his features. Figure a little more towering and intimidating. If you thought he couldn't have seemed more lifeless a few minutes ago, then his appearance now only seemed to prove you wrong. "So it's only fair if you got your part of the play too, right?" 

"Taeyong, you're only making your existence weird for me, let's go if you're done." He only tilted his head in amusement, "Oh it's only about to get weirder, darling" You turn back to face a blood red shot eyed male, well, Taeyong, eliciting a gasp from you, you look over your shoulder to see the place where Taeyong stood a blink of eye ago. "How..did-" His chest visibly vibrated from the hearty laugh he let out, "How did I do that?," you step back as his voice dropped even lower, only for you to bump your back into something rigid, something cold, making you let out a yelp as Taeyong seemed to stand still in front of you, "I can do a whole lot of things," you feared turning back, the insides of your stomach hurdling around as whatever was behind you reached their arms up and held you still in a vice grip. "Y/n!" you hear a voice scream from downstairs, "Y/n! Come out! We need to get out of here!" you recognize the voice as that of your friends, Yuta's. 

You squirm hard to loosen the person's grip on your shoulder. Once succeeding, you bolt down the stairs, skipping a few steps, tripping now and then but nevertheless making it down without landing face first as you hear Taeyong's laugh thunder throughout the place. You take a turn to reach the front door, where Yuta stood in all his glory. You immediately run into his embrace, ignoring how his body seemed just as cold as the one you felt from whatever Taeyong was, "Y-yuta, he's sick, let's go, we need to go!" you try pulling Yuta's body a little closer to the exit, only for him to stand his ground, wrapping his hands around you even tighter as he caressed your hair, "Oh, Y/n.." your body goes stiff as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, that sounded nothing like your best friend, "Yuta..?" 

You try pulling your head away from the nape of his neck to look at him, "No darling, it's 'stupid made up shit''," his body vibrated once again from the laughing against yours, as you feel yourself growing scared each passing second. You try mustering up all your strength to bring it to his sides and push him away when you feel a plush yet cold muscle press against your neck, only for it to go futile. "Still made up for you?" you feel a sharp pang of pain flow through your nerves, result of him biting the skin in a manner far too away from soft, "Taeyon-g- lord--midnight man, whatever you are.. I'm --sorry" you say in a hushed voice, scared that if you voiced out a little louder, he'd pounce at you. You feel him nibble at the soft skin, making you whimper, "Oh no, darling, do not apologize. Your doings really intoxicated me. Kept me entertained for a while." 

"But now, it's angering me to know a feeble creature as you kept poking fun at my people. At me. And I want no more than to turn you into something belonging to me. Who'd worship me the way 'my people' do." He whispered against the area, lifting his head up and leaning down, making sure not to let go of his grip on you, "oh no, pretty girls aren't supposed to cry. Tsk tsk, what is this, Y/n" His eyes bore holes onto the crown of your head. "Look at me." he acted on making you look at him faster than you could, "Could you beg for forgiveness? Give me a piece of yourself?" he inched closer to your face, a small snarl escaping his throat at your scared and trembling figure, "Or you could just be my queen and come below with me, and you'd not have to cut down your lifespan" 

"Are you turned on by all of this, Y/n? Or is it out of fear?" you let out a shaky breath as the tip of his nose touched yours, "Because i can smell you from here and oh," he let out what sounded like an animalistic growl, "Is it delicious.". "Taeyong, please let me go.. I'm sorry. I really am, just please don't hurt me,-" you let out a whine of pain when you feel his other hand knot his fingers in your locks and pull it back with much aggression, immediately planting his lips onto your trembling once, bearing his fang like teeth into plush flesh to draw out blood, earning a loud high pitched scream from your end as you try your best to push him away, futile once again. His hands tighten their grip at the waist while his other hand pulled your head further back, latching onto the firm skin of your neck, treating it with the same aggression, puncturing through the skin with his teeth as your hands go limp beside your body, nevertheless, letting out a whimper from the harsh treatment, which, in all your defense couldn't be help since you still are a human with all emotion any human would feel, that including lust. You feel his cold lips curve into a smirk against where blood flowed out, lapping it up with his tongue as you feel your vision blacken the more as time went by. 

"Oh darling you're no different than me.."

4th November, 19:48Pm, 2020.

"She's awake!!" you blink multiple times to get accustomed to the blaring lights in the room, a comfortable white filling your eyesight. You move your head towards the side to find all your friends sprawled out on each side. A drip connected to your hands making you squint in confusion, "Can you hear us, Y/n?" you feel your shoulders being shaken as jolt, "Hey? Yeah i can hear you, why won't i be able to?" you ask, confusion still laced in your voice, "Because you hadn't responded to us the last time we called you. And because you've been laying dead the past few days" Jaemin spoke up first, earning a smack from his elder brother 

"Why didn't you stop when we screamed your name the other day, Y/n? You literally weren't breathing the day we found you" Yangyang inquired and stated, "And why did you leave us all on seen??" Haechan added, "Most of all, where were you even??" Yuta spoke. You hiss at all the questions being thrown at you as you try sitting up by the inclined hospital bed, "Screamed? Didn't respond? I left you on seen? That's highly impossible and where was i??" you stare blankly at the plain wall in front of you, trying to remember any such episode. The more you strained your head, the more clueless you grew. Your throat starts to grow dry so you turn your neck to check if there are any water bottles nearby, only for a sharp pain to flow through your nerves at a particular spot in your throat. You yelp at the sudden pain, "I'll get the doctor," Haechan rushed outside, when you reached out to touch your neck, feeling it with the tips of your finger, feeling in the swollen skin, the dried up blood when it all hit you. Your eyes grow wide as you start shaking, for it to be first noticed by Yuta, "Yuta, that house! The game, it's all real! I saw hi-him, his name! I swear he's real!" growing concerned at your sudden frenzy behavior, Yuta kneeled down beside your bed, holding your non-injected hand giving it a comforting behavior. 

"Calm down, angel. Tell me point by point," he encouraged you to take in a long breath, as Haechan rushed in along with the doctor whose face was half covered with a doctor's mask, "Doctor, he-he's probably out for me, you need to get me far away from here! Please" you beg with your eyes stinging with all the tears, "No one's going to get you from here, Ms. Y/n, you're safe here" You pause your frantic actions for a while. That voice sounded a little too familiar for your liking, making you think you're over analyzing everything again. The doctor gestured to your friends to leave you up to him to have a doctor to patient talk. All of your friends nodded in understanding, giving you one last reassuring smile before collectively leaving the room. 

The doctor, once after making sure that everyone left, removed his mask to reveal the oh so familiar smirk and the hair protector, rustling the same, familiar bright red hair with the same familiar pale fingers of his. Your eyes widen, mouth falls wide ajar

"Oh wait, there's one last warning, Do not assume that the Midnight Man has left your home for good at the conclusion of the game. I'm for real done now" You laugh at your friend who snatched the phone away from you,

"Pleasure to meet you again, darling"

[soldouthaz]

hey all!  it’s nearly the end of the year now and it’s time to finish the list of my favorite 2020 fics! (you can find part i of this rec here !) I can’t thank these authors and anyone else who published things this year enough. it’s been many long months where a distraction was much needed, and we got such amazing content for FREE. being able to escape into another world for even just a few minutes right now is priceless. 

to everyone who wrote something, read something, or simply made it through this year, kudos to you! wishing everyone a much more relaxing 2021 with even more amazing fics to come. :)  thank you guys for everything – happy holidays & new year, and happy reading!  

there were so many good ones out this year and there’s no way I can include all of them, but I enjoyed so many more than just the ones on this list! the ones I picked just stood out to me for some reason based on how I was feeling or what I was going through at the time, and they all helped me in some way or another. :) not to mention, I am sooo behind on recent fics and most of the blff, so I will be making more recs slowly into the new year as well!  

quick disclaimer! as with every time I put these together, this list is based on my own opinions and features a variety of different kinds of fics and tropes. I include the info next to them for a reason! please stick to your own preferences and leave any hate out of your choices. that being said, if you enjoy any of these, please leave the author a kudos, comment, or send them a message to let them know you liked it!  

okay, in no particular order!:  

a place with skeletons by @crazyupsetter / whoknows 
 E | 50k | b!L | veela!Louis 

“I would choose anyone other than you,” Louis says, picking up his train of thought again. He feels a lot more cornered and defensive when they’re in Harry’s house, for some reason. 

It doesn’t really make sense, considering that this time, Louis was the one who couldn’t hack it any longer. He broke first. There’s something about being in Harry’s space, though, the green and earthy feeling of it. It should feel like open space with all the plants, but Louis has never felt more claustrophobic than he does when he’s here. Harry’s chest moves against his back, a sharp intake of air. 

Before he can open his mouth to defend himself, Louis keeps going, “If I had a choice in any of this, I would have been saved by that elderly security guard over you. I wouldn’t mind having to have the occasional cuddle with her.” 

even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight
 E | 25k | b!L | uni au  

Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job. 

runaway darling by @solvetheminourdreams 
E | 26k | no smut | wedding au  

An AU where Louis hates weddings, Harry loves them, and together they help a bride skip hers. 

three days in february by @mercurial-madhouse / writing_practice 
 E | 187k | b!L | magical realism  

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind. 

a springtime’s wilt, an autumn’s bloom by snowcaplou  E | 20k | b!L | abo 

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

just a flicker in the dark by @falsegoodnight 
 E | 57k | b!L | witch!Louis 

Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles. 

terror of surrender by @loubellies 
E | 31k | b!L | yoga instructor!H  

Louis is a recent divorcee with a new favorite yoga teacher, Harry. 

loving you’s a bloodsport by @rosesau
 M | 106k | no graphic smut | royalty au  

harry is a bratty prince, louis is a guard who works in his palace, and niall is the only one who’s got his life in control. 

spoonful of sugar by @zanniscaramouche (check out this part too!)  
E | 43k | b!L | mob boss!Harry  

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles. 

quiet people have the loudest minds by @2tiedships2
 M | 38k | referenced b!L | abo 

The one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry. 

works like a charm by @falsegoodnight 
E | 18k | b!L | Hogwarts au  

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone. 

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.  

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts. 

Three: They do not get along.  

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git. 

show you the stars in the daylight by @yvesaintlourent / bruisedhoney 
E | 13k | b!L | friends to lovers  

The one where Louis has a type and at sixteen and scrawy, it’s definitely not his best friend’s little brother Harry…ten years later, he changes his mind. 

in a sea of mist by @tomlinvelvetfics 
E | 126k | b!L | mythology au  

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs. 

confessions of a fabricated alpha by @jaerie 
E | 18k | b!H/b!L mention | abo  

famous alpha Harry Styles has a secret and paying an alpha to roleplay a relationship with him over the phone is the only way he can be himself. 

take my whole life too by @goodmorninglou
  E | 24k | b!L | d/s elements | WIP

Louis knows three things, at the base of it all. 

He likes when Harry hurts him. He doesn’t know why, not really, but he knows that he likes it. Likes giving up control, likes feeling small and taken care of, likes being praised for taking whatever Harry gives him for as long as he gives it. He and Harry are meant to be. No matter what time they finally fall together, what day, what age, what place, the moment that they do, that’ll be it. It’s going to be them against everyone else, hand in hand for the rest of their lives. That’s been a given since they met. The half of Louis’ soul that’s missing is Harry’s. 

And, sans those two things, he doesn’t really know much of anything at all. 

sweet like honey by @falsegoodnight  
E | 33k | b!L | amateur porn au  

Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal. 

a few rereads posted from before this year that I enjoyed again!  

the case of the (definitely not haunted) styles mansion by briamaria  
E | 40k | b!H | nancy drew au  

the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted. 

canyon moon by @eeveelou  
E | 40k | b!L | abo  

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.  Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.  

An A/B/O Lion King AU 

lemon eyes by @turnyourankle  
E | 50k | b!H | abo  

It’s not proper for omegas to mess around with alphas before finding their bondmate. But Harry doesn’t give a damn what’s proper and fully intends on getting as much experience as he can before even trying to find one. As far as he’s concerned, the right alpha won’t care, and he’ll have some fun on the way.  And who better to start with than Louis Tomlinson, the alpha with the worst reputation on campus? 

all this delusion in our heads by snowcaplou 
 E | 15k | b!L | exes to lovers  

After Harry and Louis break up, they cope with it in very different ways. What will happen when Harry keeps calling his ex over when things go wrong in his life, but Louis just can’t take it anymore? 

the way the storms blow by @rbbsbb  
E | 21k | b!L | roommates au  

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick. 

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. 

Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.  Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.  

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea. 

and a few more recs from some other fandoms for anyone who might be interested! (feel free to rec me some more if you know of any!)  

burning the ground by lq_traintracks (drarry)  
E | 10k | b!draco | abo 

“Strap him down,” someone said, and Harry felt the rage thicken inside him – the viscous fear. Magical bindings pulled taut around his wrists … He felt a wand touch his arm and then a sharp bite as something punctured the skin, and a sweet, cool tonic rushed his veins. His breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped. The ceiling went grey and dark. And then he heard a woman’s voice sigh, “Someone, get Healer Malfoy.” 

every step you take by nokomis (sterek) 
 E | 50k | light b!Stiles | abo  

Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super. 

+

alright, I think that’s it for this rec! as always, please let me know if i’ve tagged anything incorrectly or if you’d like to be untagged from something!  

and like I said before, I am wayyy behind on reading for these last few months and I need to catch up. when I do, I’ll definitely make some more recs into the new year! 

I just want to say another thank you to anyone who wrote or read or created or just existed this year. it’s been hard on us all but having this outlet definitely made it easier. I can’t wait to see what else is published next year! happy reading everyone, and happy new year! :)

[lovelyirony]

Oh, can I please ask for one of your folklore prompts? “And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want/just not home” my tears ricochet  For a young Tony, maybe? It doesn't have to have a pairing if you don't want to. :)

A house and a home are different. Tony did not know this until he was in college, much to his surprise. 

A house is somewhere you live. A central place that you come back to in between visits to other people or places or countries or anything else. It is not personal. It is something you use until you no longer see the need or the desire. You can move to a lot of them. 

A home lingers. A home is where you smile late at night over drinks. It is where crumbs reside from last night’s takeout, and you spend lazy Sundays. 

(Tony also didn’t know what that was either.) 

He’s lived in a lot of houses. He has a lot of houses. There’s the one in New York that is looming and lonely and probably would be his least favorite except it’s in New York, which earns it its redemption. 

There is sunny Malibu with its beaches and great views. There are a few others. 

None of them are homes. It’s just a place to rest for a couple of months or a year or until Howard decides it’s not enough. 

He gets to MIT and gets a dorm room, same as everyone else. It is pitifully sad, he gets sun only in the mornings, and that sucks. He kind of hates it. He guesses that’s the college experience. 

He also has a roommate. Jarvis had told him it’d be good for him, and Tony had had to talk Howard out of about twenty-seven different legal documents that basically said “if you ever breathe a word of anything to anyone, you’re being legally sued.” 

James Rhodes. Literally studying to become a rocket scientist, has questionable taste in posters, and waves at Tony when they meet each other. 

“Call me Jim.” 

“...Jim. Are you eighty or something?” 

It’s probably the wrong thing to say. It definitely is the wrong thing to say by Jarvis’ raised eyebrows and down-turned frown. 

But James Rhodes takes it in stride. 

“You can call me something else if you want, but it has to be good and I have to approve it. Can’t be my last name, can’t be Jimmy. Anything else is fair game.” 

Different reaction. That’s...that’s weird. 

So Tony shrugs, smiles as Jarvis leaves, and realizes that he’s alone and Howard doesn’t really have an influence--except he does, god he does--and Tony asks James Rhodes if he’d like to get pizza. 

“You know anywhere with good pizza?” 

“Wanna find out if Hemingway’s is any good?” 

“It’s either going to be artisan hipster or the worst. Hell yes.” 

It’s artisan hipster. It is bad, and James laughs as he tells a story and burns his tongue when he’s reenacting his mother is chewing him out, using his full name, and: 

“Rhodey,” Tony gasps out. 

“I told you that you couldn’t use my last name!” 

“It’s technically not your last name, sugar plum,” Tony mocks, using one of his mother’s nicknames against him. “You are forever now Rhodey. Forever.” 

- 

From there, friendship progresses. Tony’s never actually had a real friend before, not that he tells Rhodey that. Besides, Rhodey probably knows. Tony just automatically assumes he’s paying for everything, and he’s not sure what to do with genuine affection for a couple of months. 

He looks at Rhodey with such love and affection. He does, really. Rhodey has created a whole new world for him. 

- 

And then, the holidays. 

Thanksgiving is Tony’s least-favorite-holiday for a variety of reasons. It’s all a fake kind of gathering. “Coming together to celebrate gratefulness” is the biggest goddamn crock of bullshit he’s ever cooked in his life, and for once his family isn’t doing a PR stunt, so his mother has announced that he’s welcome to be back home, but they won’t be there. 

Howard is taking Jarvis with him on a trip to England to visit Aunt Peggy and probably talk shop about Cap and ice and stupid fucking theories about the degree of alive he’ll be when he’s found. 

(When. What pretentious bullshit.) 

Tony doesn’t want to be alone in the house, because that’d suck shit and MIT would be better. At least he could make shitty ramen and cry and only get a noise complaint instead of one of the cleaning staff members saying that he probably needed therapy. 

“You are not staying in the dorms, what the fuck man,” Rhodey says. “You’re coming home with me.” 

“Now darling, I thought you said we weren’t going to be forward about this whole thing,” he purrs, putting on an old Hollywood accent. “Are you finally coming up and seeing me?” 

Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll be as forward as I want,” he decides, and Tony wishes he wouldn’t say things like that, because that seriously get’s a man’s heart rising. “Besides, I told you that you need to have my Aunt Kendra’s rolls, and that’s a promise. So, Thanksgiving is now with the Rhodes’ family.” 

Tony doesn’t know if they know that he’s coming. He also doesn’t know the dress code, and Rhodey is absolutely no help. 

“What do you mean by casual?” Tony squawks. “Is it business casual? Dressy casual? Jeans casual?” 

“What do any of those mean?” 

“Oh my god, I’m going to look like a failure at this shindig. Your mother will die over her cooking because I’ll pull out of the wrong wardrobe and be a fool. I’ll die, and you’ll have to bury me, and you won’t even know which outfit I’ll want. God, this is going to--” 

Rhodey shuts him up, putting a hand over his mouth. 

“Just wear your red turtleneck and your dark jeans or whatever. That looks nice.” 

“You noticed?” 

“You don’t give me as much credit as I deserve,” Rhodey grunts. “Early wake-up on Monday. I’ll supply coffee as long as you give me gas money.” 

“I’ll give you anything for coffee. I’ll give you my hand in marriage for coffee.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Rhodey teases. “I might actually do that.” 

God, I wish you would. 

- 

Rhodey’s house is a nice place, a wire fence bordering with a porch swing covered in a light dusting of snow, and swinging slightly with the wind that blows through the neighborhood. 

There are quite a lot of cars parked in the driveway and in the street, and Tony can see at least six people inside the house, which is more family than he actually knows on either side. 

It’s all warm and yellow, and Rhodey moves with an ease that Tony didn’t know happened outside of those cheesy family shows. 

He throws open the door and there are shouts of joy and happiness and “Jimmy-boy!” 

“I didn’t know Jimmy-boy was on the table,” Tony remarks dryly. “And here it’s been for months, Jimmy-boy.” 

Rhodey groans. 

“This is worse than Rhodey,” he mutters. 

A woman who could only be his mother steps forward, grinning. 

“Call me Mama, darling. And what’s this I hear about ‘Rhodey’?” 

“He burnt his tongue on pizza while telling me about a time he got a well-deserved talking-to by your own graceful words, Mrs. Rhodes,” Tony says. He’s charming. Oh, he’s very charming. 

She giggles. 

“I said mama, but I can’t say I’ll mind too much when you talk like that. Jim, you should’ve had us meet earlier.” 

“You see I would’ve, but I happen to value myself,” Rhodey says. 

“You do?” a man says. Mr. Rhodes, tall and a smile that could put any of the fake veneers in Hollywood to shame. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

Rhodey gets pulled into a hug, and he laughs, and Tony has the Distinct Memory that He’s Never Been Hugged by his Father. 

Well, isn’t this a time to realize family inadequacies! 

“Rhodey, light of my life, where am I setting up my suitcase?” Tony asks. 

“Come on up with me. We’re sleeping in my room, hope that’s alright.” 

It’s more than alright, and Tony smiles when he sees Rhodey’s room. 

He loves it. It’s decorated with model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, a peeling Star Wars poster that has most definitely been needed to be thrown away for more than five years (but won’t be), and a few trophies from soccer. 

Tony’s never had his own room decorated with anything but the current trends, his mother hand-picking his comforter and the decorations in his room. And they all say he’s so “fashionable” and “keeps an eye out for trends.” 

(Ha.) 

It’s odd for him to see a house look so...lived in. 

“Welcome home,” Rhodey says. “I haven’t grabbed it yet, but I’ll use a sleeping bag and you can take the bed.” 

Tony snorts. 

“No way, honeybee. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. We’ve shared a bed before, this is no different.” 

"Only if you’re sure,” Rhodey says, smiling at him. “This is a bit different than both twin beds being crashed together because we wanted more space for the fridge.” 

“This time we don’t have the fridge,” Tony quips as Rhodey laughs. 

“Come on, let’s head downstairs. Mama’s probably gonna have us wash dishes or something. Maybe set up some more chairs.” 

What actually happens is that their laundry machine has gone rebel-mode, and is currently trying it’s best to fling the door open and spew laundry everywhere. 

“Shit,” Mr. Rhodes says, looking at it. “Another call to the repairman this month...” 

“He won’t get here until a week after Thanksgiving,” Mama says, sighing. “How much do you mind your jeans freezing up a bit?” 

He smiles a bit at his wife. 

-

Tony’s never seen that. But he likes it. 

-

“I can fix it,” he says. Family turns to him. This is all quite embarrassing. “I, uh, I’ve taken apart some washing machines before. I think I can figure it out, if you don’t mind me poking around.” 

“I wouldn’t mind a bit,” Mama says. “Jimmy, I like this one.” 

Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll go get the toolkit for you. Need anything?” 

“Towels and you, honey-pie.” 

“You get one out of two of those options.” 

“You treat me like a vagrant,” Tony declares. Rhodey laughs as he heads to go get supplies. 

- 

The night goes on. People occasionally check in, and Rhodey assures them that it’s going well. 

“Instruction manuals are such bullshit,” Tony says. “Half the time they’re written by someone who doesn’t even know how to do it themselves. The other half, no one uses them.” 

“Well when you take over your company, write better instruction manuals,” Rhodey says. “Pass me a towel, things are about to get sudsy.” 

Forty-five minutes later, the washing machine is probably doing better than it was even at production, and Tony gets a kiss on the cheek and cheers all around him. 

“This calls for cookies,” Rhodey declares. “Tony, let’s go get some.” 

They sit at the kitchen table, and Tony learns so much about Rhodey’s family. He sees him laugh and relax and tell the funniest stories about when he was little and got stuck in a tree. 

-

It’s home. That’s how he finally understands it. Home where you keep on going long after, with people you love. 

He doesn’t have one of those.  

He thinks, maybe, that he could make a home of his own. Maybe he could have AC/DC posters lining a wall, or have the pictures of friends and vacation in the kitchen. 

And Rhodey would be there. For now, he’s going to enjoy his hot chocolate and try to get more embarrassing stories about his best friend from his family. 

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter seven: a little death

word count: 11.1k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: gore. so much gore. "a little death”? more like a lotta death. yeah it’s just blood and guts, and then john is kind of a fucker for like .0000005 seconds

notes: hi folks! we've got another big'un, a little more john/elliot centric with some plot threads starting to weave together. i'm really excited with where things are going and how things are shaping up, and i hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!

special thank you to @shallow-gravy​​ for lending me her eyeballs to proof this chapter <3 dani and sylvia both are characters of @starcrier​​'s beautiful talented mind and she was kind of enough to help me fill out the cast for the world i'm working on!

as always, thank you so much to everyone who reads/comments/kudoses/likes; whatever your form of support is, it really means the absolute most to me and it's the whole reason i keep going!

“Well, well, well, Mr. Seed!”

It was Sylvia’s cheerful voice that first put a smile on Elliot’s face. It was the ensuing expression on John’s face when he realized he’d have to slide into boots worn by at least twenty other people that kept it there. He grimaced as he set his own perfectly tidy shoes to the side and pulled the first Wellington on.

John had done the right thing by swapping out the collared shirt he’d been halfway through putting on into a black turtleneck—still, certainly, more expensive than perhaps any item of clothing Elliot herself had ever owned, but less pretentious than a silky button-up.

“Right size?” Via asked.

He forced the grimace into a smile. “Perfect fit.”

With a satisfied nod, the blonde turned back to Elliot and handed her the lead to the horse she was going to brush—a hefty Clydesdale that plodded out of his stall obediently. He nosed her pockets for treats, whuffling against her offered but empty palm before she started tying him to keep him in place for a good brushing.

“You look fit as a fiddle and ready to ride,” Via announced, clapping John on the shoulder once he’d gotten his shoes swapped out. “What do you think? Wanna climb on up?”

“On that?” John asked incredulously when the blonde indicated the bay.

“Yes sir. Hugo’s great for beginners.”

“Hugo’d be great to stomp me to death,” he muttered. “Ah, no thank you, Sylvia—I think I’ll stick with the ground for now.”

“Suit yourself.”

She gave Elliot’s shoulder a quick squeeze before setting off at a brisk pace. At the barn, Via always seemed to operate on a different kind of frequency—she was still quick to smile and quicker to laugh, but there was definitely something more businesslike going on. John watched her go for a minute, mouth downturned in a frown, before his gaze returned to Elliot.

“So,” he said, “what are we doing?”

“I’m brushing Hugo,” she replied primly. “You can...give him a treat, or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to do something?”

Elliot sighed, patting Hugo’s neck and giving him a scratch. The bay turned his head, regarding John for a moment before bumping his muzzle against her hip affectionately.

“Here,” she said, holding out a brush. “You can brush him.”

It was John’s turn to do the regarding, then, eyes darting down to the brush and then back up at Elliot. He did still look a bit ridiculous—walking around in the Wellingtons, brushing loose wisps of hay that had somehow managed to cling to his turtleneck, the normally perfectly-slicked back hair falling loose and unruly. As John weighed the brush in his hand like it was some kind of artifact, he gave Hugo an awkward pat on the nose and one stilted brush along his neck.

“Great,” Elliot chirped. “Just keep doing that, but...better.”

She stepped away, leaving John with the horse and heading down the main hall. She’d taken about five steps before she heard John go, “Wait, where are you going?” and she turned to look at him, brows pulling together in something close to pity.

He looked so uncomfortable. And it was so good.

“To brush another horse, honey,” she replied, voice dripping with sugar. “What, did you think we were going to hold hands while you made yourself useful?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve gotten mouthy,” he said, eyes on her as she clipped a lead onto her usual equine companion, a handsome palomino named Butterscotch.

“I’ve always been mouthy, John.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

A few minutes of silence lapsed between them, filled only by the occasional whuff of horse breath or John muttering a swear. Elliot had just gotten into the rhythm with the palomino, gliding her hands and the brush across his neck in slow, even strokes, when John said, “So, you’ve been coming here a lot then, huh?”

Elliot let out a sigh. “This is supposed to be my quiet time.”

“I’m just curious,” John replied. “What made you want to start spending time around big, smelly animals?”

She dropped the brush in a bucket, fishing out the comb and starting to work on some of the knots. “Doctor’s orders.”

John made a low noise, agreeable even though she thought that he might be burning over there. Back in Hope County, he’d been determined to know her—get inside of her, get in the nitty-gritty, dig his elbows up into her guts and gore and figure out every little thing about her and what it was that she was keeping from him.

It made her wonder if he had read the file Joseph had compiled on her. It had been given to him, after all, like a trophy. Like she was a trophy, a gift from Joseph to him. His reward.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Maybe that is what John thought; that all of his ragged attempts at convincing her that what they’d had, those fleeting moments, had been love. But she’d seen the way he’d looked when Joseph had praised him, the way he tiptoed around himself and his true nature, always with a foot on Joseph’s side and one on hers. Now, watching him stand awkwardly to the side of a giant Clydesdale, making an attempt at integrating into her daily life—it was almost sickening, to think that she had been the prize in some weird game for Joseph’s approval.

“Left him all alone with Hugo, huh?” Sylvia asked, jarring her out of her thoughts and reminding her that she’d been brushing the same spot in the palomino’s mane for a while now.

“Ah, yeah,” Elliot replied, clearing her throat and focusing on a different spot. You make me sick, she wanted to tell him, the warmth of the morning evaporating in the wake of her anger. You make me fucking sick, I won’t forget it, I can’t forget it, fuck you fuck you. “He could squirm a little. Builds character.”

Via’s eyes narrowed playfully, squinting at John as he gave the bay a hearty pat on the neck. “Not an animal person, huh?”

She felt her mouth twist wryly, wanting to say something vicious. Something mean. Something—

( I’m glad I didn’t break that wrathful streak out of you, )

“City boy,” is what she ended up supplying, to which Via went ahh, as though that explained a lot. In a lot of ways, it did.

“How’re you holdin’ up over there, buddy?” the blonde called down the hall, Hugo’s ears flicking in her direction. John glanced up and planted a smile on his face that was so canned Elliot thought he couldn’t have seemed like he meant it any less.

“Fine,” John said, like he was on automatic, and then quickly added, “Great, actually. We’re bonding, Hugo and I. The two of us.”

“Yeah?” Via’s head tilted. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Yes. A pair, he and I.”

“Good,” she replied cheerfully. “You can take him on a walk then.”

“Huh?” came the intelligent reply, followed by the unceremonious drop of the brush in the nearby bucket. “What?”

“Take him out, stretch his legs a little,” Via explained, her voice warm. “He’s a nice boy, you two are pals. Should go fine.”

John grimaced. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Elliot had to swallow back a laugh when Via asked, “You don’t know how to walk?”

The brunette sucked his teeth. A little smile was on his face, but it was the same kind of smile he’d given Elliot when she said something particularly mean-spirited—and though Sylvia West was clearly not a mean-spirited person, she had yet to find John very charming at all. Jury was still out, after all. Elliot was sure that bothered him.

“I’ll show you,” Elliot sighed, after a few seconds of Via waiting patiently for John to explain himself. “Just unclip the—”

“Don’t stress it, Freckles,” Via interjected gently. “You’re busy with Butterscotch. I’ll help John.”

She hesitated, feeling a sudden jolt of panic. Via was saying, take care of yourself. She was saying, put yourself first. She was saying, you don’t have to jump to do the stuff all the time. But it had been so long—so long of trying to prioritize herself and choosing other people.

You don’t have to Atlas this thing yourself, deputy, Jerome had said, like she wanted to let someone else handle it, like she wanted to be alone with herself.

But before Elliot could convince herself that it was more important that she show John how to do something fairly self-explanatory, before she could protest that Via was too busy, the blonde picked up the brush, put it back in her hand and crossed the hall to John with great purpose.

“Don’t worry, bud, I’ll make sure you don’t get trampled,” Sylvia chirped at John, unclipping the lead from the hook in the wall and setting it in his hand.

“Thanks, Sylvia.”

“No sweat, that’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”

“Lot of money, having people walk horses around?”

She flashed a smile that was all teeth. “Tons. I fill my pool up with hundred-dollar bills just for fun. Swim around in it and everythin’.”

John’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. He glanced back at Elliot, their eyes meeting for a moment—and maybe it did make her regret, a little, all of the poison she’d been thinking about him; maybe seeing him standing there and jesting with Sylvia and giving her that boyish smile made her regret thinking about how much she hated that he wanted to know her, all of her, all of the yucky, nasty bits of her that she wished didn’t exist.

Watching him walk out the front of the barn in the rubber boots, Hugo plodding along amicably behind him while Sylvia chattered, made Elliot wonder what it would have been like if he’d kept his word; if he’d meant it when he’d said that they would leave Hope County. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she and John were meant for each other like he’d claimed. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she didn’t want anyone else, maybe she wanted someone who kissed her when she was still covered in another man’s blood, who didn’t mind when her fingers itched and burned for acts of violence.

Yours must surely be the sin of Wrath.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he was it for her, Elliot thought while John and Sylvia walked the Clydesdale in a big loop around the snowy parking lot. Maybe she never would find someone who loved her, all of her grit and gore and venom, the way that John did.

The way that he’d looked at her scar, then a wound, with adoration, his hands red with her blood. The way he’d said, It’s going to look so good on you.

“That’s okay,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone, feeling the palomino’s velvety muzzle bump her hand impatiently for her attention. “I’m—”

Not ‘I’m’. It wasn’t ‘I’m’ anymore. It’s not just about you, anymore.

“We’re,” Elliot amended, swallowing thickly, “just fine being alone.”

If she said it enough times, maybe she would learn to believe it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You really never walked a horse before, huh?”

John glanced up, his gaze darting to the blonde that had been walking alongside him as they circled the parking lot. This is not what he wanted to be doing. When he’d said he was coming with Elliot to the barn, what he’d anticipated had been something closer to getting time with her—out of the house, away from the dog and her mother, and in a situation that was more comfortable for her. She clearly liked coming here, or she wouldn’t have strongly considered objecting to his tagging along.

Hm, something inside of him said, doesn’t that say something, that she doesn’t want you in a place she feels happy and safe?

No. Not really. Not in the least.

“I haven’t,” John replied after a moment, realizing that Sylvia was waiting very patiently for his answer, without rushing or prompting him. That was probably why Elliot liked her. “It’s funny, I grew up in Georgia and never seemed to be around a horse my entire life.”

“That is funny,” Sylvia agreed, without laughing or cracking much more than a polite smile.

His eyes narrowed. He pushed a smile onto his face, the rope hung loosely in his hand as Hugo trailed along beside him, content to brush at the ground with his nose once in a while. John thought, there’s got to be a way to figure you out. There’s got to be something. What did Elliot say to you about me, Sylvia? What did she tell you that’s making you this obstinate?

Just as John opened his mouth to say something, the blonde said, “You know, I don’t like you much, Mr. Seed.”

He closed his mouth, stopping at the far end of the parking lot. Sylvia turned to look at him, her gaze scrutinizing, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know what I did to disenchant you, Sylvia, but—”

“I spend a lot of time with troubled people,” she interjected, and infuriatingly she did it so kindly that it almost lost its insulting edge.

Swallowing, John’s brain scrambled rapidly, looking for some kind of footing before he began as amenably as possible, “I hear equine therapy is beneficial to plenty of people—”

“Doctors and therapists send folks here all the time to try and get some kinda relief. I don’t always know what it is, but I’ll tell you one thing: that girl in there—she came in looking more haunted than a cemetery, and the way she looked when I first saw her is the same way she looked when I caught y’all on the street.”

The polite smile dropped from her face. “I don’t like that she got that look back.”

John bit back his venom and said, “To be frank, you don’t know anything about our relationship.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Sylvia replied lightly. She turned to him, and reiterated with pointed firmness, “All the same, I don’t like it, and I don’t like you, John Seed.”

“You’re awful polite,” he said tartly, “for a woman who doesn’t like me.”

Sylvia sucked her teeth in a gesture that was reminiscent of going come on, shaking her head again and huffing out a sigh. “You strike me as a man that hasn’t ever been just plain old disliked before,” she said, planting a hand on his shoulder even though he easily had two or three inches on her. “Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless, John. Jesus Christ, people been givin’ up on you that fast, huh?”

John blinked rapidly. That was not the answer he had anticipated. The words rattled around in his head, clanging painfully loud, foreign and unfamiliar and scary in how it felt to have someone, Sylvia, look at him and say, people been givin’ up on you that fast?

Mentally scrabbling, he brushed her hand from his shoulder and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly fine. I just don’t understand putting yourself through the trouble of being nice to someone if you don’t like them, that’s all.”

“People can change,” Sylvia told him plainly. “After all, you said you’ve never been around a horse before, right?”

“Well—”

“And now here you are, walking a horse around an empty parking lot in Nowhere, Georgia. I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you?”

John snapped his mouth shut. There was something unsettling about the way Sylvia was looking at him; like she was seeing him, really, right then and there, after knowing her for so little time. It was the same—

It was the same way Joseph looked at people. Seeing them, for exactly as they were, with everything they brought to the table. So why did it feel different when Sylvia looked at him? Why did it feel different from Joseph when she looked at him and said, I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you? Why did it feel more real?

“You’d probably best head back in,” Sylvia continued after a minute, smiling at him brightly. “Hugo’s an old man, he doesn’t like to be out that long. Much rather prefer to be inside and warm.”

“Yeah,” John said after a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I’d better.”

He didn’t like this, not at all. He especially didn’t like the feeling of Sylvia, a woman who blatantly did not like him, seeing him.

Turning, John started back across the parking lot to the barn, the hefty Clydesdale trailing obediently behind. It wasn’t until he was nearly to the doorway that he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket; pulling it out with his free hand, John brought the horse to a stop and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, John.”

It was Joseph. Speak of the devil, something in him whispered as he glanced back over his shoulder at Sylvia beginning to trek down into one of the riding yards.

“Joseph,” John said, clearing his throat, “I’m so happy you called.”

“How are things going?” His brother’s voice maintained its typical serenity, but there was a strange idleness to it, like he wasn’t fully invested in their conversation. It was unlike him, to sound like this—to sound absent, or troubled.

“They’re good,” he began cautiously. He wondered if Isolde had told Joseph about him hanging up on her. It would be just like her. “Really good. There was a doctor’s appointment yesterday—” That Elliot didn’t let me go to, he thought, as Joseph made an agreeable noise to show he was listening, “—and the baby is healthy. Really healthy, and good, and next week we’re going to find out the gender. Elliot’s been going to these stables because the doctor thinks it’s good for her stress—”

Joseph’s voice cut in over him, sharp and impatient. “Do you know what’s going to be really good for the deputy’s stress?”

He shifted on his feet. “It’s just, she’s been talking to the doctor about it—”

“There will be bombs dropping, John.”

“I—know that,” he replied quickly, glancing back at the barn and seeing Elliot dusting her hands off on the top of her jeans, having put the palomino away. “I know that, Joseph, I promise, I—”

“There will be no baby to be worried about,” his brother continued, “if you and our sister are not here when they fall on us.”

Joseph bit the word out, sister, like it was a cyanide pill crushed between his canines. Just hearing his brother’s voice change like that made John’s throat feel tight. The anxiety of hearing Joseph’s displeasure was rising up high and hot in his throat, and Elliot was walking towards him, head cocked to the side curiously, and if she knew he was talking to Joseph she was going to go ballistic. She would, and he would be back to square one—and he’d only just gotten a little bit closer; the feeling of the soft skin of her throat beneath his fingers from earlier that morning still lingered, burned in his memory.

“I understand,” John said automatically, pitching his voice low. “I do, I’ll—”

“You have a week left. I won’t wait for you.”

“Joseph—”

“I’ve given you great freedom to fetch your wife and child, when I have every reason to have left her to Hell.”

His stomach wrenched. He knew it. He knew Joseph was angry about it. Regret flooded him; he should have stayed back in Hope County a little while longer, until Joseph was done in his solitude, to talk to him first. “I know, please, if you would—”

“The next life is something that has to be earned,” came his brother’s voice, sharpening as he spoke, “and your wife has done nothing but reject the absolution that I—” He paused. “—we offered her, at every turn.”

I know, John wanted to say, but could not; what would be the point? What would it matter? He’d said it a handful of times already, but Joseph was angry, he was so mad, so mad, and all that time spent back in Hope County felt very suddenly like it had amounted to nothing.

“The gates will be closed to you.” And then, his voice harder now: “Tell me you understand, John.”

He gripped the horse’s lead tight. For a second in time, the comedy of it all—trailing after Elliot into a stable, joining her and her friends that didn’t like him at a bar, listening to her mother expertly sliding in barbs—had been overwhelming. His life had temporarily become a rom-com, and by the season finale they’d make amends and everything would be fine.

This was a reminder that was not how things were going to go. He didn’t have the leniency to just take however long he wanted; there would be no time to make friends, even ones that looked at him and said, just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless.

Get Elliot and baby. Bring them home.

“John.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I understand, Joseph.”

“Good.” Joseph paused, and then after a moment: “And no secrets, John. I’ll know if you’re keeping something from me.”

The words washed a strange, cold sense of dread over him. For a second, John thought, have I been keeping a secret from him? Have I been lying to him about something?

Elliot had stopped a few feet away, her head tilted inquisitively. She was far enough that John thought she might not be able to hear him, but still he turned his head like he’d seen something interesting back in the parking lot when he said, “I would never do that.”

There was a little exhale on the other end of the call. “I know. You’ve always been good.”

Something frantically pleased lit up inside of him, rapidly firing the neurons in his brain. Good, they said, chanting, we’re good, we’re good, he said we’re good, Joseph thinks we’re good.

Just as John opened his mouth to reply, Joseph said, “We’ll talk soon,” and the line clicked. Call Ended, said the screen when he pulled the phone away from his ear and turned back to Elliot, who’d started making her way over to him again. Something in his chest sank a little; he quickly tucked it away, focusing his attention back on the task at hand.

You’ve always been good.

“Who was that?” Elliot asked as she came up, rubbing her hands together in the cold absently. John gestured for her to head back inside, and she did, letting him fall into step between her and the horse.

“Just a wrong number,” he replied with a little smile. “It’s a new phone. I’ve been getting them a lot.”

“Ah.” She didn’t sound convinced, but he supposed he never expected her to. “And how was your walk with Hugo and Sylvia?”

“You would be surprised to know I feel much the same as before I walked.”

Elliot’s mouth quirked up at the corners, tugged into a smile. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen that little smile on her face, but it was the first time that it didn’t feel forced, or driven by something sour or venomous.

John offered, “Sylvia has confessed she’s not fond of me.”

The redhead next to him made an inquisitive noise, though she didn’t remark on it. He imagined this was not news to her, given the way they’d been chatting when he’d come back from warming up the car the other night. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t spike a little bit of jealousy in him; that Elliot found it so easy to connect with Sylvia, even though they had history, even farther back than Eden’s Gate, if he was going to be a stickler about it. And he was. He wanted to be.

A little, he thought, maybe he was jealous that despite everything, Elliot still found some way to make a friend that defended her so fiercely.

Stupid, he thought, letting Elliot take the lead from him. It’s stupid. I have people who will protect me too. Jacob, and Joseph—

“But you already knew that,” he added after a moment, watching her. The redhead moved with a kind of surety around the horses; there were no darting eyes, no furtive glances out into the distance, searching for an invisible threat that only she could see.

“Well,” Elliot replied, “you didn’t really endear yourself to her. She met us in the middle of an argument, and then you proceeded to try and use your snake charms—”

“My what?”

“—on her, and that’s just not really her style,” she finished plainly, working to take the halter off and then sliding the stable door shut. “You don’t have all of your little cultists here to chant ‘yes’ at you whenever you please. You have to make a real effort with people.”

“I am,” John snipped out, “making a real effort.”

“Mm,” came the reply as Elliot slung the halter over her shoulder and started heading off down the hall without waiting for him.

“Elliot—”

“John,” she replied amicably. “I’m not going back and forth with you about this.”

He closed his mouth. Every single nerve-ending felt violently frayed from the onslaught; first Sylvia, then Joseph, and now Elliot. John could feel the headache blooming behind his eyes. Even though he’d felt that rush of adrenaline the second Joseph had praised him, there was still a knot in the pit of his stomach; just there, rolling tight and painful, reminding him that he still would have preferred that Jacob called instead.

Elliot returned, picking a loose piece of hay off of his shoulder and dropping it to the ground. “We going or what?”

Regarding her carefully, John said, “Only if you’re done. We’re staying however long you want.”

“Oh, are we? It’s all about what I want now?”

“It was always about what you want.”

She gave him a look. As she shrugged the heavier coat back on her shoulders, and he tugged the boots off, Elliot said, “You know how you’re always saying I need to find a new catchphrase?”

John pulled one of his shoes on. “Uh-huh.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Elliot continued. “The whole ‘I’ll give you anything you want, Elliot’ bit just doesn’t hit the same when you spent the whole time lying to me.”

“I—” He let out a frustrated breath, pulling his other shoe on. “I meant it when I said it, Elliot.”

“Fucking me,” Elliot replied, “does not amount to giving me anything I want.”

“But it is what you wanted,” John retorted.

“Among other things.”

“Among other things,” he agreed.

They stood like that for a minute, regarding each other with tight expressions and the sourness of their exchange still lingering in his mouth. John exhaled through his nose and passed a hand over his face. It was one thing to be on edge because Sylvia had come right out and said she didn’t like him; another to then follow-up with a conversation that reminded him of his existential dread; yet another to be putting up with Elliot’s vitriol.

“When I said,” he began, “that I l—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t fucking say it.”

“When I said it, I meant it,” he amended tartly. “I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, too, but I meant that.”

“Yeah?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “You didn’t mean to tell me that I’m never going to find someone that’s going to love me and all of my ugly too, is that what you’re trying to say? That whole ‘no one’s going to love you with all that red in your ledger’ bit was just a fun little jab—”

“No,” John replied evenly, feeling that petty little spike in his chest, “I meant that.”

His words seemed to catch her off-guard, immediately unseating her. The expression that crossed her face was bewildered; the animosity had fled it, and instead what replaced it was hurt—bright and blooming across her features, flushed under her skin in a gorgeous high color. It wasn’t unlike the flush in her cheeks from when she’d been frenzied by the killing of Kian, and it looked just as beautiful now, too.

John thought, I love her, just like this. Wretched and wicked and furious with me. Hurt and needing.

He had seen her in fury, in grief. Watched the remains of what happened when she sank her teeth in down to the bone, whether it was to kill or to howl in her sorrow. And he had loved her then, too.

I meant it, he thought, because no one is good enough to love you except for me.

“Well, it doesn’t fucking matter,” Elliot replied after a minute. Though her words carried with them the same cadence any other angry response would have, her voice sounded small, like he’d sucked the wind right out of her sails. “What you think, it doesn’t matter. You don’t know fuck all about me or what kind of person could love me, and—” Her lashes fluttered. “And fuck you, John.”

John watched her expression for any giveaway that he’d gotten where he wanted: inside. Before, he’d known her quite well—could gauge her anger and her grief and catch it before it exploded. Now, with the baby, things had changed a little.

“I think I’m familiar with exactly the kind of person who could love you,” he said after a moment. And then, gesturing ahead of him: “Shall we?”

The tension in her jaw tightened, flattening and flexing the muscle when she clenched her teeth. Those spiteful little eyes; he’d missed them, missed the way she’d looked at him. As of late, she’d gotten too comfortable withholding her attention from him.

Get Elliot and baby. Get home.

It was a mantra now, running its track in his head over and over until it wore a rut into his brain. As Elliot brushed past him to walk to the car, and he fell into step trailing behind her just a foot or so, he let the words sink in. He’d gotten distracted; strayed from the path—but he wouldn’t let that happen again. Joseph was right. He was good, and he would just have to make Elliot see that.

One way or another.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Staci Pratt was doing alright, all things considered.

The Veteran’s Center was empty. Had been for weeks, in fact—after a particularly tense call with Joseph, Jacob had evacuated most all of his Chosen except a select few into the bunker and locked it down. He’d grabbed his keys, looked Pratt dead in the eyes and said, “I want to see you sitting in that chair waiting for me when I get back, Peaches.”

How long was he going to be gone? That was a question that had been sitting on Pratt’s brain for the last two months.

It might have been more than that; it honestly could have been a little less, too. He had no idea. Three days after Jacob had left with his chosen, and left Pratt in the Veteran’s Center, the radio chatter had fuzzed out. Interrupted by something. A day after that, he saw strange convoys along the streets.

Well, he’d thought, Jacob did say to stay put.

So, stay put he did.

There was food, and water, and even though the snow was falling, the place stayed pretty warm. He hadn’t heard Jacob’s voice on the radio for weeks. He’d stopped checking it. He thought that since it had been so long, maybe Jacob and the others were—

“Staci,” came a sweet voice from the other room, “come here, quickly!”

Pratt pulled himself to his feet. His limbs felt heavy, but pleasantly so; like he’d been grounded to the earth, finally, at last. For a second, the floor seemed to stretch out under his feet, as far as he could see; the leaves, having blown in before the snow through then-open windows, folded and melded against his shoes. Like they were trying to be with him. What had he gotten up for again?

“Staci!” The sing-song voice came again. Dani, he thought, taking an unsteady step forward. Shit, Dani’s calling me. That’s what I got up for.

“Coming,” he managed out, taking a few steps and then catching his momentum and carrying himself into the next room over. The glossy-haired brunette was sitting with her legs tucked up at the desk, watching the security monitors avidly. Sheridan had come knocking a few days after the convoys had passed, and at the time, Staci had thought she was some kind of test—after all, Jacob had said to stay put. Sitting in that chair, waiting for me when I get back. That’s what he’d said. Getting up for a pretty girl at the door was directly disobeying him.

But he’d let her in, because she smelled good and smiled at him with pearly teeth and a cute accent he couldn’t place, and asked if he had room for her in the building, and said things like, You can call me Dani, if you want!

That was what—four weeks ago? Maybe more? She’d made herself at home, explained she’d gotten lost from her family and that she’d been worried because she saw strangers with guns running around. She had food, and water, and warm clothes, and—

Drugs. The “herbal” kind. It will open you to the influence, Dani had told him, giggling when he blinked owlishly at her. Brings you closer to the earth, Staci. It feels nice, I promise. Pratt thought it might have been Bliss, at first, but it was different; it didn’t jar him on his way down, the crash felt so much gentler, and Dani offered it to him to use whenever he wanted, and he just wanted to feel. Good. For a little while. That’s all. Just a tiny while.

It wasn’t hard, to feel good around Dani. It was like he’d spent all that time in constant fear and stress, listening to Jacob tallying body counts from Elliot. Sometimes the redhead would suck his teeth and say, what the fuck is my brother doing with that girl? and shake his head, and the idea that Jacob Seed wanted to turn Elliot into a perfect killer had washed him with a cold, ferocious dread.

Then, Jacob had left. No more body counts. No more radio calls, listening to the redhead’s urgent voice from the other side of the door. A tiny while had turned into four weeks, and now he was here: stumbling his way into the security room where she was curled up. Somewhere in the distance, a little alarm bell went off in his head. Jacob would be so mad, that alarm bell said. He would be so mad, so fucking mad, so so so mad.

But the thought was a small voice, easily washed out by Dani’s blinding smile when he got close.

“You remember I was telling you about my family?” she asked. She was tearing tiny bites off of a piece of fruit leather; Pratt reached blindly around in one of the drawers and pulled out a bag of beef jerky.

“Yeah, you said they’d be looking for you,” Pratt replied. That was weeks ago, he thought to add, but did not. “Did you find—?”

His eyes fixed on the screen. It was a stranger there, on the screen—which was to be expected—but she didn’t look like Dani. Not at all. They looked to be the same age only, but the woman on the screen had short-cropped, light-colored hair, and she was swathed in dark fabrics high up to her throat.

“That is my sister,” Dani told him excitedly.

“No way,” Pratt said, blinking at the screen. The woman on the screen was obviously not related to Dani by blood. He watched her move, wraithlike, a ghost skimming along the side path up to the F.A.N.G. center—one of the only places Jacob had left some of his Chosen out and about.

Oh, no, he thought suddenly. Oh fuck, this is bad. Oh fuck, Dani’s gonna watch her sister get killed, holy shit—

“We have to stop her,” he blurted out, starting to fumble around for one of the radio’s batteries—he was sure he could charge it up enough, he was sure, he was sure, slamming the walkie talkie on to the charger he’d conveniently left off because he didn’t want Jacob calling for him—when he saw the flicker of one of the Chosen coming out around one of the building’s corners, suspicious. “Um—that guy, he’s—”

“Shh, shshsh,” Dani said, waving her hand at him and watching the screen. “Do not be so noisy. I am watching.”

“Dani, you don’t understand,” Pratt tried again, more urgently, “that man is going to—”

The brunette made a sharp little noise, a quick tst, and planted a bit of fruit leather in her mouth, knee tucked up against her chest. It was like she was watching a movie. It was like—

Oh, God, Pratt thought, swallowing thickly as the figure of Dani’s “sister” came scooting around the corner behind the Chosen. She was going to get killed. She was going to get fucking murdered, right there on screen, in front of this nice young woman who’d been nothing but kind to him, and he was going to have to explain to her what it was he’d watched Jacob do and—

Something sleek and metal glinted on the video feed. Dani’s sister was not sneaking, anymore, but grabbed the chosen’s shoulder with one hand and drove the point of her blade straight into the junction of his shoulder and neck.

It was hard to make out expressions on the screen, details and nuances, but there was one thing clear from the woman’s body language: she was not troubled, fighting for her life, and she had done this before.

“Dani,” Pratt whispered, feeling his stomach lurch when the knife was pulled out of the Chosen’s neck, arterial spray coloring the ground in black and white on the computer screen. “Dani, what is—”

“You are going to miss it,” Dani told him, shooting him an annoyed look.

“Miss what?” he croaked. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see whatever it was Dani was afraid of him missing. The only thing he wanted was—

But she reached up, snagging his hand and squeezing it absently. She had been doing that sort of thing a lot—touching. She’d bring his hand to her pulse so that they could breathe in tandem, touch their foreheads like she was checking him for a fever, take his hand while she walked through the halls and looked around. Another thing Jacob would be furious about, if he found out.

When he found out.

Dani’s hand offered him little comfort now, though. She leaned in to the screen a little and murmured, something in a thick, rolling language that Pratt couldn’t quite make out, and said, “Oh, how many people do you think are there?”

“I don’t know,” he said, fixing his eyes back on the screen. “I don’t know, a lot, Dani, there’s probably a lot—”

There were a lot. There were a lot of them, crawling around the F.A.N.G. center, and he watched Dani; watched her watching the screen as her sister—“sister”—dispatched each one of them with distinct, violent ease. Like it was a dance. One, two, three, waltzing as she picked up whatever she could find and used it to incur blunt force trauma.

Blood, everywhere. Viscera when she shot both kneecaps of one out. Spray when she pushed yet another’s face into a broken plank of wood, falling off of the side of the building. The picture was in black and white, but even still, Pratt could see it: red, everywhere. Red in the snow. Red on her hands. Red on their faces, on their clothes, on her knife on the gun because she twisted it out of one of their hands and pushed it into his mouth and fired, insides painting the wall of the building behind him.

So. Much. Blood.

“What—” Pratt swallowed, his mouth dry as sandpaper. Suddenly, feeling like the world was a conveyor belt under his feet didn’t sit so well anymore. “What is—?”

“This is the important part,” Dani told him. “You have to watch her. Återfödelse.”

“What does—”

“Shh.”

He watched. He watched, and he wished that he hadn’t, because the woman on the screen shrugged out of her coat, pulled some black latex gloves out of her pocket, and snapped them on.

And then, she gutted them.

Like fish.

Stripped their shirts and jackets off. Cut them from the hollows of their throats down to the tops of their jeans—which she had enough generosity to leave on them—and then scooped their insides out like a butcher at home in her own work shop. Scooped them, dumped them, sat them up against the wall of the building. The woman moved with the unhurried but thorough, single-minded pace of a woman determined to finish her plate and lick it clean.

He was going to be sick. He was going to be fucking sick. He pushed the forgotten bag of beef jerky onto the countertop beside the computer. Dani must have thought he was offering it to her, because though she was fully engrossed in her sister’s work, she said sweetly, “Oh, no thank you. I am vegetarian.”

Pratt pulled away from the computer screen and the chair where Sheridan sat, admiring the bloody gore being laid out before her. The world pushed and pulled in his vision in time with his rapidly increasing heartbeat; he stumbled into the next room, reaching blindly out of muscle memory alone before his fingers found the edge of the trash can and he could bend over and throw up whatever was in his stomach.

He was wrong. This was worse than Bliss—Bliss was one kind of trip, and you knew immediately what it was going to be from the start. But this? This was a fucking nightmare. Each time he closed his eyes he kept seeing them, Jacob’s Chosen, entrails scattered in the snow and jaws lax and ribcages split open.

Fuck, he thought, breathing over the trash can as another wave of nausea hit him. Fuck fuck fuck, fuck fuck—

“Oh, Staci,” came Dani’s sugared voice, teeming with pure, unadulterated sympathy, rippling bright pink and blinding in his vision. How long had he been knelt over the trash can like this? “Are you feeling unwell? It can be a lot, you know. The first time you see it.”

“There—” Pratt lifted his head weakly, looking at the girl who’d happened to wander in here, just after he’d seen those glossy gray vans patrolling the area. Separated from my family, she’d said. “It happens more?”

His words came out in a wail, pitching almost into hysterical. Dani clicked her tongue, smoothing the hair back from his forehead in a gesture that was supposed to comfort him.

“Of course it does,” she told him, crouching beside him, bringing his hand up to her cheek. “Återfödelse. Rebirth. It will happen to us all. If we are lucky, Helmi will be the one who does it for us.”

The last thing he wanted was for that woman—Helmi—to do anything for him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, the exhaustion of his adrenaline and the crash of his high digging straight into his skeleton.

I have to get the fuck out of here, he thought. I have to get out of here and tell—tell the others—tell Jerome and Hudson and Elliot and—

“It is okay,” Dani murmured, planting her hand on the back of his neck and giving it a little squeeze. “She knows I am here. That was good thinking, to get the radio all charged up.”

It took every ounce of his strength not to moan in misery at that. The brunette smiled at him, radiantly and with pearly teeth, and he was suddenly filled with dread at the idea that there may be someone out there worse than the Seeds.

“You should lay down, get some rest,” she suggested gently. Coming to a stand, Dani glanced back at the monitors, and then back at him, lips still quirked in that pleasant little smile.

“You will want to be at full speed when she gets here.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Things in the car were uncomfortable. That is to say, Elliot was still nursing whatever wound his honesty had given her, and regarding him warily out of the corner of her eye every time he attempted to strike up conversation with her.

I’m not going to apologize, John thought resolutely, between the stop at the pharmacy and the house. I meant it. I’m not going to apologize for something I meant. And mean. I know I’m the only one meant for—

“What is going on?” he asked, slowing to a crawl when he came to the turn up the Honeysett’s driveway. It was packed with cars—lining the parking area in a little cluster. The redhead beside him let out a frustrated, agonized little moan, burying her face into her hands.

“It’s Tuesday,” Elliot replied tartly.

“Okay, and?”

“Tuesday’s the day mama has all of her debutante friends over.” She shifted in the passenger seat, gesturing with her hand. “Well, you gonna park or what?”

John’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Great. An audience, a crowd, for the impenetrable, unshakeable tension sitting just there, right between them. But even now, it was a relief; all of those weeks spent without her had reminded him that even when things hadn’t been the most ideal, when they’d been fighting constantly, at least it had been something. As long as she wasn’t acting like he didn’t exist.

“Can’t wait,” is what he said, pulling the Jeep down the long drive and parking it where no one would need to have him move it later. Through the glass, he could see gauzy shapes milling about, drenched in amber light; Southern women, hair curled and faces powdered and the flowy fabrics of their loose-fitted (and yet, somehow still miraculously tailored) clothes, martini glasses in hand.

Elliot said, “Stepford housewife does seem on-brand for you.”

He shot her a dry look. “I prefer my women with a bit more bite to them.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

So, it was going to go great, then.

As he made his way up the steps, Elliot paused, turning and looking at him before they could reach the door. He looked at her expectantly; eyebrows lifted.

“I don’t have to tell you to behave,” she began.

“No, you don’t.”

“But I will anyway.” Elliot’s hand rested on the doorknob. “These women are nicer than mama. They’ll want to know all about you, ask you tons of questions—I need you to give them vanilla answers. The most vanilla. You’ve gotta be as unthreatening as a wafer, John.”

Still recovering from the pleasant swoon of hearing the words I need you come out of Elliot’s mouth, John said, “Scout’s honor, Ell.”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. Loose wisps of ginger hair tumbled out of the half-pony she’d slung her hair in, and her eyes darted—unsure, wetting her lips, like there was something that she wanted to say to him but she didn’t quite trust herself to.

“I’m—” She stopped.

“They’re going to wonder why we’re standing out here.”

“I’m trusting you,” Elliot bit out. The words were almost as sweet as I need you, he thought. “Trusting you not to...take advantage of the fact that I may or may not have omitted important information about what was going on back home. I would really like it, John, if we could get through this evening without my life coming apart.”

The urge to reach up and brush the hair from her face, cup her cheek—it burned in his fingertips, itching. But he kept his hand at his side and said, mood instantly elated by the idea that Elliot needed something from him, “No nuclear bombs dropping tonight, my love.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We get in and we get out, no casualties.”

“Just like old times,” John agreed. “Sans the ‘no casualties’ bit, of course.”

Elliot’s mouth twisted. He thought she might have been trying to stop herself from smiling, but the expression was wiped so quickly from her face that he didn’t have any time to dwell on it too long before she opened the front door and he was hit with a blast of heat and floral perfume.

Oh, yeah, he thought, stepping inside after Elliot to the sound of bright, vibrant chatter cascading over soft music playing in the background, that’s debutantes.

“Is that Elliot?” exclaimed one woman, perhaps a few years older than Scarlet, coming to a stand and setting her glass to the side as she hurried over to wrap Elliot in a hug. “My goodness, look at you. You dyed your hair, didn’t you? I love it, it’s beautiful, sugar.”

“You’re home late,” Scarlet remarked as Elliot shrugged out of her jacket, perched on the couch. Boomer had come racing down the stairs at the sound of someone’s arrival, little feet tapping excitedly against the carpet as he begged for Elliot’s attention.

“We had to make a stop, mama. And—thank you,” Ell replied, clearing her throat, returning the embrace for a second before she pulled away. The interaction was an interesting one to watch—and gave him, perhaps, more insight into the dynamic between Scarlet and Elliot than his wife would have wanted. After all, it wasn’t Scarlet getting up to embrace her pregnant daughter after not knowing where she was all day.

Elliot turned and gestured to John with a smile that looked more like a grimace. Her hands had gone to Boomer, though, rubbing his ears—more for her benefit than his, it seemed. “Delia, this is—um, John. John, this is Delia, she’s—kinda like my aunt.”

The woman, Delia, turned bright eyes on him. “Well, um John, isn’t it nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, hugging him tight and filling his senses with perfume and chiffon.

“Pleasure,” John replied, beaming, “is all mine, I assure you, kinda Aunt Delia.”

She’d been right, of course. All of the women in the room regarded the two of them with nothing short of warmth, glowing curiosity—certainly, they gossiped, but nothing quite as scathing as Scarlet Honeysett’s own impression of him and even, to an extent, Elliot. For the most part, the matriarch’s disdain of him was carefully bottled, though she made no move to greet him or show him off like a mother-in-law ought to.

“John is Elliot’s husband,” Scarlet said lightly from the couch, where the other women made various noises of feigned excitement and disappointment alike. He could about hear Elliot wanting to crumple in on herself.

Delia left one hand on John’s shoulder, the other affectionately twisting one of Elliot’s coppery curls and letting it fall to the side. “Dyed hair, married—honey, is there somethin’ you haven’t been up to? And what about a weddin’?”

John had never seen Ell turn into such a shrinking violet before. She blinked owlishly at the women—even the one she claimed close enough to be her Aunt—and shifted on her feet.

“We didn’t really think about it,” Ell managed out shyly, cheeks flaring pink. “And no, I haven’t, but—well, except—”

Painful. It was painful, how much she was suffering through this. “It was an unconventional thing,” he supplied easily, flashing a charming smile. “We thought about maybe having a nice reception, but we’re just not in a rush right now. Can’t do anything nice in the middle of winter, after all.”

Instant relief flooded Elliot’s face. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“Finally,” Delia hummed, “a man who has some taste. You know, Scarlet, my boy’s been trying to find indoor places to have his weddin’. I asked him, what, does he think folks want to be sweatin’ like a sinner in church the second they step foot in there? It’s no less than—come here, John, honey, you can sit with me—no less than two hundred guests, and...”

John let Delia manhandle him into a chair nearby the fireplace. It had been quite a blow to his ego to have Scarlet regarding him with so much disgust, like he wasn’t even worth her time of day; even now, when his mother-in-law came to a stand, beckoning Elliot into the kitchen with a single elegant hand into the kitchen, she barely spared him a glance. Like he was nothing.

That’s where she gets it from, he thought dryly. Honeysett women.

“John, you ever been to one of Scarlet’s Christmas parties, honey?” Delia asked him, jarring him out of his thoughts. He planted a polite smile on his face.

“Unfortunately, I’ve not had the opportunity,” he replied lightly. This was easy—older women, dying to know more about him? Easy as pie. “Christmas is next week, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Delia replied, patting his hand. “You’ll have to come. I mean, of course you’ll come—Elliot will be there. Where are you staying? Scarlet didn’t put you up in a motel, did she? I’ll tell you what, I hear the most awful stories about that place. In fact, just the other day, Justine Adler was telling me...”

The woman launched into another bustle of gossip, busying herself with pouring a drink which was then promptly planted in John’s hand. Somewhere close to halfway into that, Scarlet and Elliot returned, the older woman resuming her spot at the center of the couch and Elliot sitting herself on the ground beside him, back to the fireplace.

He leaned over, as the women burst into glittering laughter, and said, “Wanted to sit by me instead of your mother, huh?”

“She told me to pretend like we like each other,” Elliot muttered back. “What are you drinking?”

John flashed her a grin. “Delia made it for me.”

“Elli,” Delia said sweetly from the chair, “do you want somethin’ to drink, too?”

Elliot flushed. “No thank you, ma’am. I’m alright.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

The conversation resumed, and John let a few beats go by before he leaned to the side again; this time, he pitched his voice lower, and he saw Elliot tuck the hair behind her ear. “I like when your accent comes out,” he told her, turning his head to look at her, and she did the same at the same time, putting them almost nose to nose. “It’s cute.”

“You’re on thin ice, buddy,” she replied, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t forgotten what you said.”

“I’m counting on that elephant’s memory of yours, Elli.”

“John, are you fixing to get glassed or what?”

He couldn’t stop the grin from hitting his face again. She had to behave here—she couldn’t kick up a bit fuss about it. But even when she asked him if he was trying to get his face bashed in, a little bit of wry amusement bled into her voice, like muscle memory demanded the jab be more playful than threatening.

“I’ll drink to your health,” John added amenably, “and merciful nature.”

She squinted at him, the corner of her mouth twisting into something close to a smile.

“Sure, John,” she replied. “You’ll need all the help you can get on that front, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time the last lady had left and the glasses and plates were cleaned up, night had fallen deep and dark over the Graves (Honeysett) home. Elliot thought she’d never been more tired her entire life than she had been sitting through that little gathering, listening to the women ply John with questions about what he did and what he was doing, and how did they meet, and wasn’t he just so happy to be down here in Weyfield? Wasn’t he so pleased to have Scarlet as a mother-in-law?

To his credit, John upheld his promise to behave. He took only one alcoholic drink from Delia and spent the rest of the time sipping it, engaging more freely with the other women than she’d seen him do with her own mother or even Sylvia—likely because they had no reason to dislike him. On a surface level, John Seed was a very charismatic man. Charming. Thoughtful. Perceptive. He laughed and he made the ladies laugh, and even her mother seemed a little pleased; not without her carefully placed jabs, but for a second in time, Elliot felt less like she was going crazy and more like a normal girl. A real girl.

It made her think about the night she’d first met him, almost two years ago now, and the way he’d looked at her and said, a lot can happen in a week, beautiful. She’d been a fucking fool back then, and in a lot of ways, Elliot thought she still was a fool—but at least she was on the defense. At least she felt comfortable with the idea that her baby might never know John, in any capacity.

She was ready to cut and run, if needed.

And why haven’t you? Something inside of her asked, as she moved up the steps and stopped at her bedroom door. Why haven’t you cut and run already?

“Elliot?” John turned to look at her, pausing when she did. His eyes were inquisitive. No, not inquisitive—prying. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in my bed?”

Lonely, another part of her replied. We haven’t cut and run because we’re lonely.

“I’m sure,” she said after a second. “Nice try, though.”

“You’re still mad,” he said, his voice rumbling teasingly. His eyes darted over her, lingering on her mouth before fixing on her eyes. “Didn’t I do good? Just what you asked?”

“You—did,” Elliot allowed after a moment. It was true. “But of course I’m still mad, you fucking idiot. You told me no one was ever going to love me, and that you meant it.”

John sighed. There was a brief moment where he neither said nor did anything, but after a second he reached up and swept the hair from her shoulder. The gesture made her skin prickle; anticipation curled at the base of her spine and began its stretch, luxurious and leisurely, up to her neck. Tight, tingling anticipation, when his fingers brushed the side of her neck.

Push him away, she thought.

“I do mean it,” he said, “because, I don’t think—”

Push his hand off of you.

“—anyone else is going to love you—”

He was closer now, much closer than before, like she’d blinked and suddenly he was there, in her space. Elliot felt her lashes flutter; the smell of his cologne washed over her, drowning out all of the alarm bells in her head, speaking to a creature inside of her that craved comfort.

“—the way that I can love you.”

John’s forehead brushed hers. So close, too close—but she thought about waking up this morning and the way he’d put his hand just there, in the same place, the way he’d murmured concernedly, you said you’ve been sleeping fine.

“Ell.” His voice was pitched soft, low, something safe and warm and just between them, his fingers threading into the hair at the base of her skull, and now their noses brushed, and John had crowded her up gently against the doorframe, just the way that he knew she liked. “I want to kiss you.”

Elliot’s throat felt tight. I want to kiss you too, that wretched, sad little thing inside of her said, but instead she thought of something else—she thought about John, holding her under the water, and John, saying enough of that sad little whimpering, deputy, you’re pulling on my heartstrings, and John, spitting mad, telling her he was never ever going to take her back even though no one was going to love her because of the things she’d done.

“Can’t,” she managed out, her voice hoarse. “You can’t.”

John exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting like he was trying to stop himself—from saying something, doing something that he wanted to do very much but would regret later. It took a second, but once she gathered herself, she reached up and gripped his wrist with her hand, applying just a little pressure—and that was all it took for him to drop his hand from her neck.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. It sounded more like a way to console himself rather than an answer to her. He passed a hand through his hair.

“We can’t.”

“Okay, alright. No kissing.” He lifted his hands in a show of innocence. “You’re the boss.” The brunette’s eyes glided over her face for a moment, almost ruefully, before he stepped back and started heading down the hall. “Goodnight, Elliot.”

She stayed put, up against the doorframe to her bedroom, fingers curled into fists. Everything in her felt like it was burning—rioting, that she had denied herself something that might give her some temporary relief, some temporary pleasure.

But it wasn’t just about her, anymore.

“John,” she said, waiting until he turned to look at her. “Why are you even here?”

He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she continued, hating the little tremble in her voice, “did you come here because you wanted to be with the baby and I, or did you come here because you were mad we left?”

Elliot watched the muscle of his jaw tense and tighten, flexing as he tried to come up with an answer. And he was, having to come up with one, because he was doing that thing where he wanted to say something that was true to him and would make her happy.

And she didn’t want that. She just wanted him to be honest.

“Alright, good talk.”

“Elliot, listen,” he started, and she stepped into her bedroom, shaking her head.

“Goodnight, John.”

She closed the door behind her, pleased to not hear any follow-up knocks on her door or John’s voice coming through the wood. It was five minutes of waiting before she finally dragged herself into her pajamas, put a sleeping pill in her mouth, and crawled into bed with Boomer curled into her knees.

That’s okay, Elliot thought tiredly, shifting and closing her eyes. That’s alright. It can be just you and I, baby.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Staci?”

Roused from his sleep, Pratt lifted his head. When had he fallen asleep? How long had he been sleeping? He struggled to a sitting position, clearing his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly to try and get them to focus. It was Dani’s face that came into view, then, her hair slung up in a ponytail and her nose scrunching up in an amused little smile.

“Good morning. You must have been exhausted, you slept for so long,” she teased him, and for a second he felt relief flood over him. It had been a dream. It had all been an awful dream. Now, more than ever, he was sure that he needed to get to the Resistance—take Dani with him and get out of this fucking nightmare of a building. Yeah. Then he’d feel better.

“Yeah, I must have been,” he said a little sheepishly, his voice rough from sleep. “Hey, d’you think we could—”

“Is he finally awake?”

The voice that came from the other room filtered straight into his brain, crisp and sharp and distinctly un-accented. The sound of footsteps echoed across the tile before an unfamiliar woman filled up the doorway, leaning one shoulder against it and regarding him with dark, scrutinizing eyes.

No. Not unfamiliar. Very familiar, painfully familiar, disgustingly, awfully—

“Yes, Helmi,” Dani replied warmly, “he is awake. It was his first time seeing Återfödelse.”

The woman, dark and swathed in fabric up to her throat, swept her eyes over him. “Dani told me you puked.”

“I-I-” Pratt tried to function through the panic in his brain, rioting bells going off nonstop. Helmi had washed herself of any blood, that did nothing to erase the image of her driving a man’s face into a splintered plank until he was skewered on it, or the way she had methodically emptied out Jacob’s own chosen and propped them up.

To get found. To send a message.

“You?” Helmi prompted, her voice flinty. “You what, boy?”

“He is still coming down,” Dani said, pouting her lips. She no longer struck him as affectionate on an equal level, but instead gave him the distinct feeling of a girl fawning over a cute animal. An animal she thought was also stupid.

“Why do you think he’s been holed up in the big one’s base of operations? He’s their lap dog,” the blonde bit out. She took a few steps over, leaning down—she was tall, but dextrous, her mouth curving in a smile that was distinctly threatening. She reached up, and when Pratt felt his body flinch, she grabbed his chin. “Aren’t you, doggy?”

“I-I’m not!” he said quickly, jerking his face out of her grip. “I’m not, I swear, I don’t even like the Seeds, I swear I don’t, Jacob was keeping me here and then he got everyone in the bunker and—”

“Wait,” Helmi said, eyes narrowing. “You know where the bunker is?”

“Yes!” Pratt said quickly. His eyes darted between Helmi and Dani, nervous. “I do, I know where it is, but—but no one can get in without Jacob now. Everyone in there is locked down until h-he gets back.”

“I told you,” Dani said to Helmi eagerly. “I told you he was helpful, Helmi.”

Helmi sucked her teeth, giving him one last scathing once-over before she planted a pleasant smile on her face.

“Come on, doggy,” she said, grabbing Staci’s shirt collar and hauling him to his feet. “You and I are going to make a little trip. And—”

She paused, thoughtful, even as Pratt scrabbled to push her hands off of him. They made his skin crawl—long and elegant, but he had seen what they could do. What they had done. Helmi shoved the walkie into his hands, as well as a heavy coat.

“Why don’t you tell me everything you know about our friends the Seeds on the way there?”

[sneezehq]

Revenge is Too Sweet

Tyrian Callows still hasn't forgotten who was responsible for the loss of his tail.

And just because he's been ordered not to kill Ruby Rose doesn't mean that he can't make her suffer. And oh, he can make her suffer.

Standing behind the counter of a tiny coffee stand in an apron and serving up espressos, Tyrian smirks to himself. It’s almost too easy.

Tracking down which area of Mantle the little silver-eyed brat would be doing missions in was child’s play, given that they’d been monitoring her and her little friends’ movements since the moment they had arrived in Atlas. Taking the place of the hapless barista that usually worked here was laughably easy. Poor man had bled out quietly in a back alley from a slit throat. And tempting two young huntresses over for a hot drink on a chilly Mantle morning? Piece of cake.

They rattle off their drink orders with annoyingly bright smiles and gratingly cheerful voices, and Tyrian has to repress an eye roll at the vile concoction that the dark-haired menace prefers. Of course the little monster would enjoy such an abomination of cream and sugar disguised as coffee. But he dutifully shoves down his irritation and jots down their orders, assuring them that everything will be ready soon. Tyrian has had a lot of practice ignoring annoying little girls thanks to a certain fall maiden and her bratty follower.

The two brats chatter idly while he mixes their drinks, gossiping about training and friends and spending time with their sisters. It’s all useless drivel, of course, but he keeps one ear open in case they happen to mention something useful. Little red is clueless as always. He doubts that she’d recognize him even if she got a good look at his face. Fortunately, the bitter chill of morning gives him the perfect excuse for a disguise. With his hat pulled down low over his eyes and a scarf wrapped around his mouth, he doubts that the girls would remember him standing out among the citizens of Mantle.

Yes, Tyrian Callows was a very fortunate man, in so many ways. As he should be, as a loyal servant of their divine savior. And he was here to rectify one of the few misfortunes that had befallen him.

Well, partially at least. Unlike some of his less devoted colleagues, Tyrian would never dream of disobeying an order, even if it was one as nonsensical as taking Ruby Rose alive. But just because he’s not allowed to kill the little girl doesn’t mean that he can’t hurt her. And oh, can he hurt her.

Pouring the now-finished drinks into the paper to-go cups, Tyrian fishes a tiny vial of his “secret ingredient” and adds it to the cup with Ruby Rose written on the side. The blasphemous amounts of cream and sugar would easily hide the bitter taste. Tyrian considers himself to be a bit of an expert on poisons, practically a natural at the subject since birth, so it was easy to pick out a blend that would make her suffer greatly, but would not kill her. Probably. Poisons are a bit like people, unpredictable in the way they interact with others. It’s tempting to dump a larger amount in the second drink, but as tempting as killing the little Schnee brat sounds, it’s not worth the risk. Both girls getting sick would be far too suspicious.

“Here’s your coffees, girls!” he calls cheerfully, handing out the cups. “My apologies for the wait. I hope that you enjoy your drinks!”

They fall all over themselves to assure him that it’s no trouble, they weren’t waiting long, before eagerly taking sips of their drinks and assuring him that they’re delicious. He smirks to himself. Too easy.

Ruby Rose gives him a friendly wave and a smile. Horrible child. “I hope that you have a good day, sir! Take care!”

“And you as well, miss!” I hope you enjoy your coffee, bitch.

“I’m so glad we could do this today,” Weiss says with a smile.

“Me too! Nothing like a successful mission and some delicious coffee first thing in the morning.” Ruby slurps her drink, feeling strangely jittery. Oh well, it was probably the caffeine. She always felt a little weird when they forgot to give her decaf.

“If you can call helping street vendors set up their wares a proper mission,” Weiss replies.

“Whatever you say, Ice Queen.” Ruby teases her partner, before checking the time on her scroll. Her cheeky grin turns into a frown. “How is it already 11:30?”

“Oh, you should hurry back so you’re not late meeting up with your sister!” Weiss exclaims. “I can check in at the mission boards for both of us.”

“Great, thanks Weiss! For both the coffee and for this.” She gives her partner a quick hug, before dashing off in a cloud of rose petals. “Catch you later!”

“It was my treat!” Weiss calls after her, blushing a little at Ruby’s enthusiasm. “And you forgot your coffee, you dolt!”

Ruby skids to a halt in front of the entrance to the Atlas Academy training room right at 11:59, narrowly avoiding a collision with her sister.

Yang steadies her with an easy grin. “Right on time, sis.”

“I know, I know, it’s hilarious how my semblance is speed and yet I’m always running late.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Yang smacks her shoulder playfully. “You ready to get your butt kicked?”

“Bring it on!” Ruby shrieks playfully, ignoring the growing ache in her stomach. She’s probably just hungry. It is lunchtime. “I’m just surprised that you want to train when you’d usually be eating lunch.”

“Lunchtime is the best time to work out, little sis. The training rooms will be empty, and plus food tastes way better when you’re worked up a sweat first.” Yang strikes a dramatic pose.

Ruby pretends to stare at her in awe. “Ah yes, the famous Yang Xiao Long wisdom.”

“Remind me to beat up the person who taught you how to use sarcasm.”

“You want me to remind you to beat yourself up?”

“Anyway! Enough stalling.” Yang grabs Ruby in a headlock. “Time to show me what you got!”

There’s something wonderfully soothing about sparring with Yang. Like coming home after a long day and taking a hot bath, except with a lot more bruises. They’ve been each other’s sparring partners for as long as Ruby can remember. It’s hard to believe that they haven’t fought since before the battle at Haven.

“It’s been too long since we’ve done this,” Ruby says, panting and resisting the urge to just flop down in the middle of the training floor. Yang always knows how to push her to her limits, and she in turn hasn’t been holding back. She can’t remember the last time she used her semblance this much.

“Agreed.” Yang smiles back at her. She’s breathing hard as well, her blonde hair a tangled, sweaty mess. “One more round before we hit the showers?”

“Sure,” Ruby agrees, although her chest is starting to ache, and she can’t quite seem to catch her breath. She allows Yang to haul her to her feet with one hand. “But after this, I’m totally napping until dinner time.”

Straining to use her semblance to its full extent, Ruby has a massive speed advantage over Yang, and actually manages to land a couple of hits early in the fight. Unfortunately, her sister is all too familiar with this tactic and simply waits for Ruby to wear herself out a bit before landing a couple of hits with her charged-up semblance. She pins Ruby and counts to five before releasing her.

“Not bad, little sis,” Yang says, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “You’re still a bit predictable, but you definitely hit a lot harder!” She turns away to pull her shirt back on. “Did I ever tell how awesome you are for punching Mercury in the face? It was definitely one of my proudest big sister moments.”

“All in a day’s work,” Ruby says proudly. She stands up slowly, feeling the pull in every one of her aching muscles. “And he deserved it, after what he did to you.”

“That’s my little sis. Now come on, I hear the showers calling our names.”

“Hey, Ruby, you asleep in there or what?” Yang calls out, banging on the door to the shower stall. She’s already showered, dressed, and ready to devour some lunch. “There’s this place that Marrow told me about that’s got some dishes from Vacuo that I need to try. Ruby?” There’s the sound of the shower running, but no response from her little sister. A knot tightens in the pit of her stomach. “Okay, you’d better not be messing with me. I’m coming in.” She shoves the door open, surprised to find it unlocked. “Ruby?”

Whatever she was expecting to find, it certainly wasn’t her little sister, still fully clothed, collapsed on the floor with blood trickling from her mouth forming a dark puddle. “Oh my gosh, Ruby!”

One minute, Ruby is sore and tired and struggling to catch her breath, but otherwise okay—and the next she’s trying not to collapse in agony, coughing up blood and gasping for air. She loses track of time, sprawled on the floor and clutching at her chest. The metallic tang of blood in her mouth is nauseating.

The next thing she knows, Yang is tapping her face and calling her name in increasingly frantic tones. “Ruby, please wake up!” She blinks her eyes open and gazes blurrily up at her older sister. Yang is here. Everything is going to be okay.

“Ruby, what happened?” Ruby manages to twitch her shoulders towards her ears in a pathetic attempt at a shrug. “Okay, well, stay calm. I’m going to go run for help.”

Fear seizes her at the thought of being left alone like this, and she manages to feebly grab Yang by the wrist. “Don’ go,” she slurs out. Talking triggers another round of coughing, and her sister helps her sit up as she struggles to breathe. Blood trickles down her chin and onto Yang’s clean clothes, but her sister doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay, not going anywhere,” she soothes, running a hand up and down Ruby’s back as the coughs subside. “I’ll call someone for help.” Ruby can barely hear her over the roaring in her ears, but the tone sounds reassuring.

Despite the steam in the air from the shower, the bathroom suddenly feels freezing. Ruby shivers violently, instinctively pressing closer to her sister. She seems to have finished her call, only glancing occasionally at her scroll and running her fingers through Ruby’s hair in a soothing gesture. “I called Ironwood, and he’s got a medical team on the way. You’re going to be okay.” She pulls Ruby closer when she notices her shivering. “Oh Ruby, you’re burning up.”

“’m cold,” she mumbles, closing her eyes. Yang pinches her cheek until she cracks them open again and glares feebly.

“I know you’re tired and feel like crap, but I need you to stay awake until the medics look you over. It’ll only be a few minutes.”

It feels like hours, but eventually the medical team is at the door. Ruby shuts her eyes as they poke and prod at her and spit rapid-fire questions at Yang.

Eventually all of the voices fade out and Ruby drifts off into warm darkness.

When she wakes up, Ruby finds herself in a hospital bed in what looks a private hospital wing. Sitting up, she feels the tug of an IV in her right wrist. Her body still aches all over, but the tightness in her chest is gone and she can breathe easily again.

Casting her gaze to the right, she spies her sister, Blake, and Weiss all slumped over in their respective uncomfortable looking waiting-room chairs. Blake’s head is resting on Weiss’ shoulder, Weiss’ head is resting on Yang’s lap, and Yang’s head is resting on the hospital bed next to her thigh, hands clenched in the blankets. Ruby smiles fondly at her team. She fumbles for her scroll, conveniently placed on the bedside table to her right. This is too sweet not to snap a picture of.

Before she can take a picture, though, her hand brushes against Yang’s, causing her sister to stir. Yang raises her head blearily, scrubbing at her eyes. “Ruby?” she asks softly, eyes wide.

“Aw, that was going to be such a cute picture,” Ruby complains.

“You scared me half to death!” Yang cries, lunging forwards and wrapping Ruby in a hug.

“Ow,” Ruby mutters. Blake perks her head up, cat ears swiveling in their direction. Next to her, Weiss snorts loudly before shaking herself awake. Their eyes go wide when they see that she’s awake.

“Hey guys,” Ruby says awkwardly, fighting the urge to giggle.

“Ruby!” Blake exclaims.

“We were so worried!” Weiss sniffles loudly.

“What happened?” Ruby asks.

The three girls look at each other for a long moment. “What do you remember?” Yang asks.

“Honestly, not much.” Ruby admits, staring down at her blanket-covered lap. “I remember sparring with Yang, and I remember trying to get ready to shower but then my chest started hurting really bad, and then it’s all pretty hazy.”

Blake, Weiss, and Yang look at each other again, which is really annoying, and as their leader Ruby would like them to stop doing that. Finally, Weiss speaks.

“Ruby, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but—” she trails off.

“You were poisoned.” Blake says bluntly. “They tested your coffee from this morning, and apparently found traces of a poison someone slipped in there.”

“Oh.” Ruby really doesn’t know what to say.

“Good thing I held onto your cup, huh?” Weiss jokes, but the levity falls flat.

In the awkward silence that follows, Blake decides to continue her explanation. “Since you didn’t drink all of the coffee, and they don’t think that there was a high enough dose in there the doctor is pretty sure that you would have been okay, but they’re glad that Yang called them so fast.”

Yang folds her arms across her chest. “And I still say that they’re full of crap. You guys didn’t see before her before they got there—” she trails off, swallowing hard.

Ruby pats her sister’s arm. “Well I’m feeling better now,” she reassures them. “Do they—” she clears her throat. “Do they know anything about who might have tried to poison me?”

“They found the guy who usually works that coffee stand you and Weiss went to,” Blake says hesitantly. “He was murdered. So I’m afraid that’s a dead end.”

“Oh,” Ruby says again, suddenly feeling very small and cold.

“Ironwood did recommend that we try to stick to only eating at trustworthy establishments, until they know more about what happened, if that helps any,” Blake says, rolling her eyes.

“Where are Jaune, Nora, Ren, and Oscar?” Ruby asks, desperate for a change of subject.

“Probably back in the dorms, waiting to hear about you,” Yang says, before wincing and picking up her scroll. “They’ve been texting us all afternoon asking for updates. They would’ve been waiting here too, but the nurse would only allow a few visitors at a time.”

“Afternoon?” Ruby asks. “What time is it now?”

“About 10:30.” Blake stretches her arms over her head.

Oh wow. That’s so much time lost. “It’s that late already? You guys should go back to the dorms, get some rest.”

Blake, Weiss, and Yang all look at her incredulously. “Yeah, no. We’re not leaving you here by yourself after what happened today.” Yang shakes her head.

“Ironwood also said that none of us should go anywhere alone,” Weiss adds.

“And in case you didn’t notice, we were just resting until a few minutes ago,” Blake points out.

“And someone has to keep an eye on you to make sure that you’re actually resting, little sis.”

Ruby bites her lip. She’s grateful to not be alone, but they shouldn’t have to be staying in uncomfortable chairs when they could be sleeping comfortably back at the dorms. “Don’t they have some extra beds or pillows somewhere for you guys?”

“I’ll go ask and see if they have any spare bedding for us,” Weiss says, heading towards the door.

“Good idea,” Yang says, slipping out of her chair. “Blake, go with her.”

As their partners slip out of the room, Yang clambers up on the bed next to Ruby. “Yang, I don’t think that you’re supposed to be up here.”

“Eh, there’s enough room for both of us, isn’t there?’ It takes some shuffling, and they have to be careful with Ruby’s IV, but eventually they settle in, Ruby tucked into Yang’s side.

“You should get some more sleep,” Yang says, brushing Ruby’s hair away from her forehead and humming softly under her breath.

“I’m really not that tired,” Ruby complains. She yawns immediately afterwards.

Yang laughs softly. “Sure, sis. C’mon, sleep, we’ll all be here when you wake up.” She’s just about to drift off when she hears her sister mutter something else.

“We will find the person who did this to you. And I’m going to make them pay.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #332

i’m even more tired than before to try and think up song lyrics, i’m pasting from Word and then fucking off to bed lmao.

What was the last video message you received on your phone? I think it was a clip of Doris (Sara's beardie) eating and just being her perfect self? Was your last birthday cake homemade or store bought? Store-bought. One thing you miss about middle school? Shit, nothing. Middle school was the worst. Do you have any shirts signed by famous people? No. Have you ever entered an art competition? Yes. Would you ever pierce yourself? No. I am very much about having a professional do your body mods/art. Plus, I have tremors in my hands. Do you live in a safe neighbourhood? Supposedly. We haven't lived here nearly long enough to know. What is the last thing you did that shocked someone? /shrug Do you often find yourself questioning your future? Only always. Have you ever been for a ride in the back of a truck? Yeah. Do you like your license photo? I hate my permit picture. Are you into superheroes? Who’s your favorite? Not very, but I like 'em enough. I always say my favorite is Deadpool, but I know he's technically an anti-hero, but whatever. If you don't include him, uhhhh... maybe Spiderman. Have you started watching any new TV shows recently? No. Have you ever been able pet a normally wild animal, like a tiger or dolphin? No. :( At least, not to my recollection. Have you ever eaten snow? Yeah. There's actually a winter treat 'round here that you make with snow and sugar called snow cream. Good stuff. What is the messiest area in your home? Right now, the spare room/my wanna-be "office." What’s your favorite computer game genre? Still horror, like video games. Do you have any exes your parents never liked? No. Have you received financial help from your parents in the past 5 years? I'm completely financially dependent on them still. Are you a fast or a slow eater? I eat like, stupid fast, but without being messy. People *cough*Mom*cough* will absolutely point it out, but I seriously can't help it. Making a conscious effort to eat slow feels way too weird. What was the last thing you purchased from a small local business? I don't know. Is there anyone in your family/household whom you frequently argue with? No. Have you ever used chewing tobacco? Ew, no. Tell me what's on your mind? I've been considering yet again reaching out to some tattoo parlors and asking if they're open to hiring someone to handle the front desk and take care of business besides actually performing piercing and tattooing, given my tremors. My group therapy has kinda been encouraging me to use the possibility for social exposure, and besides, I'm very comfortable in the environment and just general aura of tat parlors. I'm sure I'd have to answer the phone, handle money, and obviously talk to costumers, but I know and accept that. I've been at such a stagnant point with my social anxiety in particular that I have to start pushing back harder, and doing this I feel would be one of the most relaxed, social job positions I can hopefully handle. I don't dare to even try this though until I get vaccinated to protect my immunocompromised mom. Writing this all out has actually been pretty encouraging about this idea... Do you wish you never dated someone you dated? Yeah, Tyler. It was such a "I'm lonely and he was nice in high school, so we'll try it" situation. I got nothing from it. Are you scared of growing old alone? Pretty badly. What are you listening to right now? I'm listening to/semi-watching John Wolfe play the remaster of Resident Evil 2. What breed was the last dog you saw? He was a German shepherd. Would you ever go swimming during a thunderstorm? No. Any time a thunderstorm was brewing and I was in the pool, I'd always get out. What is the next concert you will attend? Mom and I plan to see Ozzy when/if he reschedules his tour after he had to cancel with his Parkinson's diagnosis. What was the name of the last pet of yours that died? Teddy. :/ What's the highest science class you have taken? I don't know, actually. What makes you squeal like a school girl? No shame, seeing Mark and Amy do something cute together actually does this, lmao. What’s your favorite symbol? (i.e. the pentagram, the cross, etc.) Do fictional ones count? Because in that case, the Halo of the Sun from the Silent Hill franchise. I'm getting it tattooed somewhere at some point, I'm thinking the left side of my neck. I'm either gonna fashion it in a way where it looks branded on or carved into me. Have you ever been on anti depressants? For all of my pre-teen, teen, and some of my adult life. Apparently, I've only had one truly educated psychiatrist out of no less than a dozen I'd seen, because he fixed me right up. He taught me that those who suffer from bipolarity should avoid anti-depressants; they ramp up your bipolar symptoms. Instead, mood stabilizers are favorable. And what do you know, after I was prescribed a stabilizer and a catalyst for that medication, my depression decreased dramatically and became handleable. Have you ever starved yourself? Kinda. What’s the stupidest name you’ve ever given a pet? I had a guinea pig named Harry Potter. For no particular reason lmao. I'm not even a Harry Potter fan. Do you have nice legs? God no. Do you like fedoras? Okay so I know I am in the strong minority, but I actually do, haha. What is your favorite food group? Carbs. @_@ Have you ever got told that you should be a model? No, but one of the most flattering indirect compliments I've ever gotten was being mistaken for one. Jason's phone wallpaper was one of my favorite pictures of myself with my first snake, and someone asked him if I was a model. ;v;' What song is in a language you don’t speak, but you love it anyway? "Donaukinder" by Rammstein is one of my faves. Who’s a villain you sympathize with and why? SOBS Darkiplier bc his origins are so damn tragic and unfair. What book do you think should be directed as a film? Was The Giver ever made into one? I don't remember that book well, but I do recall it being absolutely beautiful. Have you ever found a stranger’s note somewhere? If so, what did it say? No. Have you ever edited Wikipedia? No. Have you ever edited any other wiki? Yeah. I have thousands on the Silent Hill wiki, where I'm one of the admins. I'm also a content moderator at the Team Ico (Shadow of the Colossus devs) one. Every now and again I used to go on the meerkats wiki as well, where I mainly fixed the fucking nightmarish grammar. Very briefly, I edited at the Dragons of Atlantis wiki as well. Do you get scared when you know some virus or sickness is being passed? Not very, but of course I still acknowledge the risk and am more conscious of hand washing and stuff. What popular social media platforms AREN’T you on? Snapchat, I don't actually use my Twitter, I don't have a personal Instagram... There may be more, idk. Is TikTok a "social media platform?" Because I don't have that, either. What was the name of the first porcelien doll you got? Never had one, given I was afraid of dolls as a kid. What’s your favorite Paramore song? "Decode." Would you be happy with a life without romance? To be entirely honest, I'd feel like I was missing something. Was your childhood happy? Mostly. What fundamentally matters do you? Love, kindness, peace, all that gooey stuff. Is true world peace ever possible? As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think so. The human population is far too big to come to a unanimous agreement on anything. Do you hold yourself to higher standards than you hold others? Yeah. Would you ever own a pet black widow spider? No. I'm getting more into the idea of owning invertebrates (I jabber enough about wanting tarantulas, and there are others, like mantises, I'm interested in as pets), but black widows, I'm not into the idea of having. Too venomous for me to be comfortable risking. If you have a job, what is the longest shift that you've worked? N/A Do you know all of the words to "Bohemian Rhapsody?" FUCK YES I DO. ^ Do you sing it with all of the different voices? sho nuff Do you own more than one copy of a certain book? No. Do you like interpreting poetry or just reading it for fun? Both. I love symbolism, so I get joy out of digging for subtle meanings in poems. Do you have a favorite Dr. Suess book? Yeah, it was always Green Eggs and Ham. Do you watch The Walking Dead? If so, favorite character? Not the show, but I've watched let's plays of the games, haha. In which case Clementine is inarguably one of the best female characters in a video game universe. Who has/had the most mature romantic relationship you’ve seen with your own eyes? Uhhh. I mean I never saw them much, but probably my late grandmother and her last husband. He was fucking incredible to her, and Grammy adored him as well. They helped each other so much and just obviously had the purest love between them. When was the last time you got something for free (legally)? What was it & have you enjoyed it so far? Lmao do balls in Pokemon GO count? Their occasional free boxes are the reason I can play the game because PokeStops are essentially non-existent here, so yes. What is the one fruit you can’t stand to eat? How about vegetable? The first one that came to me were oranges. I enjoy orange juice, but I just caaaaannot with the white veiny shit that you can't totally get off when peeling it. Without that, I might actually enjoy them, but idk. As for vegetable, asparagus is absolutely abhorrent. When’s the last time you actually recited the pledge? If you aren’t American, do/did you have anything similar in your country that you do during a time at school? Probably not since high school. Last person you shared food with? Ummm I have no idea. It's really just Mom and me here and we eat our own stuff. What was the last song you heard for the first time and enjoyed? I believe it waaas... "Down In The Park" by Marilyn Manson, maybe. If your life was a TV show, what would be the theme song? My inner high school emo just screamed "All Signs Point to Lauderdale" by AD2R. Who are some of your favorite female fictional characters, and why? Gahdamn, there's a lot. I don't feel like going through a mental list in my head and then describing why. A character (in anything) you wish hadn’t been killed off? Vol'jin; I think the entire WoW fanbase will forever be pissed about it. It was THE most "lul we dunno what 2 do w/ him anymore, let's let a totally random, unnamed, unimportant demon kill him" like what the fuck, Blizz. Most of his "oomph" was in the book, and I just really wish they'd done so much more with him in the game. Has anything “cute” happened in the past week? Off the top of me noggin, no. When did you last say “I love you”? Did you mean it? Yesterday to Sara. OF course I did. Is there someone who pops into your mind at random times? Hi, PTSD, how are ya. Have you ever slept all day? Essentially. When I was on a larger dose of my anxiety med, I physically couldn't stay up for barely even five minutes, and when I'd lie back down, boom, I was OUT. I stayed on that dosage for I think just that one day, it was so bad. Can you have kids? Well, I have a functioning menstrual cycle, so I would assume so. Doesn't mean I will, though. What colors of mascara have you worn on your lashes? Only black. Do you like eating sour things? Hell yeah, I love sour stuff, candy in particular. Do you like pickles? fuuuuck yeah Did you ever have a really close friend move away? Yeah, in elementary school. I feel bad I can't remember her name at the moment... What's the most creative thing you've ever done? I mean, I guess the things I've written in RP. What's the most creative thing someone has done for you? For me? I don't really know. Do you like to watch ghost-hunting shows? Sure, they're some of my favorites. What’s something you’d like to be better at? Social interaction. Have you ever stayed up to talk to someone who was sad? Yeah. Do you think you would make a good parent? No. I know I wouldn't. The only time I ever wanted kids was with Jason, and honestly, I really hope I don't end up with a man because I never want to deal with that urge again and make a mistake. I'm just in no way emotionally fit to be a mother. How many best friends do you have? Just one. What do you cry over the most? My PTSD, honestly. I never sob about it anymore, just shed some tears. What language did/do you take in high school? Latin for one semester, then all four available for German. Which sports do you follow? None. Who was the last person you talked about marriage or having kids with? About marriage, Sara. Kids, the subject was lightly touched upon with Girt, though "with" was never a part of it, but obviously implied seeing as we were dating with long-term in mind. Have you ever been in a house fire? No, thankfully. Have you ever made out for one straight hour? them is rookie numbers Are you any good at remembering phone numbers? No. I literally don't even know my own, nor my mother's. I need to fix that. Who is your best friend of the opposite sex? Girt. Do you have a bookshelf? If so, just one or how many? No. If I gave you twenty bucks what would you do with it? Save it to go towards Venus' terrarium. Is there a movie from your childhood that you still watch today? Well of course! I'm unashamed to watch any "kids" movie I enjoy, like Disney ones. Most "kids" movies tend to be better than those intended for adults, it seems... Are you afraid of mice? Oh no, I adore mice and I think had a pair as pets before I got rats. What type of souvenir do you usually purchase when on vacation? I can't really answer this; I haven't gone on nearly enough vacations to develop a theme. I can say confidently though it'd probably be something small. If you could see any musical on Broadway right now, what would it be? I don't enjoy musicals. Have you ever watched Doctor Who? One or two with Sara, yes. I know we at least watched the weeping angels episode. If you read, which book or series did you enjoy most as a child? Warriors by S.E. Hinton. Sometimes I wanna get back into them, but I am YEARS behind and more into Wings of Fire anyway, so. I don't read nearly enough for both. How do you get rid of your hiccups? Literally no trick seems to work for me. I just suffer lmao.

[aforrestofstuff]

I’ve been looking at your posts for a while now and I love your Headcanons so much! I only made an acc today just to thank you for making these! Also I’ve also seen your A03 acc and read your fanfics there and I think you’re a great writer! I wrote a huge comment on one of your stories just rambling about how much I like your tumblr and works but I don’t think it sent cause I don’t have an A03 :( today I’m 15 and I was wondering if you’d make Headcanons for how you think S Class heroes would celebrate their birthdays (if that’s alright of course I don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna) and also just a question, why don’t you do PPP headcanons at all? He’s an S Class Hero and I think he’s the only hero you skip out on. Other then that, keep making these headcanons cause they are great and inspire me for my own OPM crack storie book I created (Random One Punch Man Crack Fanfictions on Wattpad i only wrote one story there and only said it if you’re interested)

Thank you thank you thank you so much. I’ve already sent you a dm but I just wanted to say it again because I’m literally vibrating with happiness. Happy birthday <3.

Birthday Headcanons:

Terrible Tornado: Sticks a candle in a store-bought cupcake and calls it a day. She’ll go get her nails and hair done, buy herself a new dress, and just spend the entire time relaxing. Fubuki used to throw her parties when they were kids but she doesn’t really expect that from her anymore.

Silverfang: His disciples used to get together and throw him a surprise party every year. However, ever since the Garou Incident, Charanko will take it upon himself to fill the void somewhat and scrape together enough money to buy a cake (or the ingredients to make one) and a small gift. Silverfang can go both ways: he likes people but he can also be quiet and reflective. So, he has a great time regardless of whether or not he has a party and spends the day enjoying nature, meditating, and being thankful for living as long as he has.

Atomic Samurai: He’s not antisocial by any stretch of the word but he prefers to celebrate this day only with those closest to him. He and his disciples do something new every year and it’s always grounded and casual. Sometimes they’ll all go out to drink, sometimes Okama and Iaian will prepare a feast, sometimes they’ll have lighthearted competitions on who’s the best swordsmaster (with weird contests like who can balance their sheaths on their head the longest and who can catch the hilt of their blade after doing a backflip 3 consecutive times). Good times all around. However, if someone mentions Atomic Samurai’s age, he will sass them to oblivion.

Child Emperor: He doesn’t really plan to do anything out of the ordinary. It’s mostly just business as usual on his birthday. But after meeting Zombieman, however, he practically gets dragged out of the lab and into something special each year. Whether it’s a horror movie marathon, a late-night drive to catch a glittering view of the city, or just chilling and stuffing themselves on sweets, it makes Zombieman a little sad to see wasted youth knowing his life (and age) is as fucked up as it is so he tries to make the kid have at least a little fun the best he can. Child Emperor always has a great time and he now sees the importance of valuing youth and no longer shows shame in pausing his work and enjoying himself every once and a while.

Metal Knight: When he wakes up on his birthday, his alarm clock plays a little tune. That’s about it. He sees no real importance behind age or youth or seniority because as long as he’s at his height of intellect, nothing else matters. Gotta build them robots. It’s business as usual.

King: Holy shit. Shut the blinds. Lock the doors. Silence the phones. It’s game time, baby. Twenty-four hours of blue screen madness. He pigs out on chips, soda, buys himself a cake, and absolutely revels in solitude. He calls his mom each year and they talk for hours on end. She tells him how proud she is of him being a kickass hero and killing monsters and he dies a little inside each time but he loves her nonetheless and keeps up the facade for her sake. She sends him a card with a few coupons and a love-filled note about how much she adores him. He nearly cries each year upon receiving it.

Zombieman: He buys the best cigars he can find, cooks himself a massive T-bone, drinks an entire six-pack of beer, and reclines while watching crime movies. He wears sweatpants, polishes his weaponry, plays Mötley Crüe loud enough for his neighbors to yell at him for it, and just has a great time all by himself. He doesn’t really like parties or get-togethers and even sometimes has to take a break from Child Emperor. This is his day to recharge his social battery and sleep for seventeen hours. This is his day to get absolutely wasted on expensive alcohol and accidentally hotbox his own house. This is his day.

Drive Knight: Pretty much the same as Metal Knight. Whenever the clock strikes midnight on his birthday, a little tune plays in his processing unit and that’s about the end of it.

Pig God: Every restaurant in the damn country has a special on his birthday. He just goes around collecting free food, taking pictures with fans, and eats until he can’t eat anymore (which is a lot). The restaurants he visits have pictures of him eating their food on the walls; he’s become a bit of a indication that if he visits a somewhere to eat, the food’s gotta be bomb as hell. He doesn’t really do anything other than that. He doesn’t really strike up conversation or anything, he just eats in silent contentment and that’s enough for everyone to have a good time.

Superalloy Darkshine: He’s a fan favorite as well. Social media will be blowing up with birthday messages, he’ll be trending on whatever the OPM universe equivalent of Twitter is, and he’ll waste no time going out to meet his fans and spreading birthday happiness. He’ll eat cake, drink with strangers, share laughs and smile without stopping. People will give him little gifts and free food and he accepts it all graciously. Everyone’s invited. Good times all around.

Watchdog Man: This is one of the few days of the year in which he takes the day off from protecting City Q. He’ll just sleep a full twenty-four hours and resume his duty the next day like clockwork each year. Sometimes passerby will leave him little gifts on his podium like meats and dog treats but he doesn’t really take any of it since he’s really particular about what he eats.

Flashy Flash: On this day, he spends time reflecting on how much he’s improved since last year and adopts an extra-vigorous training regimen for the next twenty-four hours. One year, he climbed a mountain in sub-zero temperatures. Another, he ran across a saltwater lake without breaking the surface tension of the water. He spends it alone, occasionally has a drink, and that’s about it. Sometimes he’ll go out to have a nice dinner but that’s only on years he believes he’s deserved it.

Demon Cyborg: He doesn’t really care about his birthday. This makes Doctor Kuseno kind of sad because he believes that Genos is still a kid who deserves to enjoy his birthday like one. So, he does what he can to make the day somewhat special while also pertaining to what Genos could want. This is very hard because Genos never outright says he wishes for anything and that means Kuseno has to do a lot of guesswork. It varies year to year, but the best gift he’s ever given Genos was the sense of taste so the kid could eat birthday cake and enjoy it. Genos isn’t too fond of sweets, he much prefers fruits over cakes, but nevertheless, he was so happy to get one step closer to humanity that something malfunctioned in his head and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking for a whole week.

Metal Bat: Go hard or go home. This fuckin kid pulls an all-nighter with Zenko on the weekend of his birthday to stay inside, build a pillow fort, and play video games. They order pizza, do prank calls, play fighting games, and when the sun comes out they get a couple hours of sleep before riding out again at the height of a sugar high to go to the local carnival (he’s a summer baby) and spend a paycheck’s worth of cash. Once they come home, they collapse in Bad’s bed together, curl up, and fall asleep to some movies.

Tanktop Master: He and the Tanktop Gang have an all-out birthday bash. Everyone and their grandma is invited. There’s food, alcohol, and sports playing on the television in the host’s house (each of them take turns every year). The first few hours of partying, everyone’s having lighthearted fun and watching sports and drinking lightly (Tanktoppers drink responsibly). After that, everyone kind of calms down and they all gather around in the living room and sit on the floor together and just talk about what a great year it is to be alive. They catch up, share stories, eat snacks, and wish Tanktop Master the happiest of birthdays. He absolutely adores spending time with his friends and gives a toast to everyone and their hard work. After that, he goes home and calls his mom before going to bed.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He and his boyfriend share a slice of birthday cake from the prison cafeteria with a single candle stuck into it. His boyfriend gives him crochet and knitting lessons, they and the other prisoners dance to some music, and the guards give him a pat on the back along with some birthday wishes. That’s about it. There’s only so much he can do in prison, but he makes it work with what he has and has the time of his life nevertheless. Angel Hugs all around.

And to answer your question about PPP, I straight up just forgot he existed akshshshs. I’ll be brainstorming some stuff about him soon. Love you lots 💞💞💞💕

[raccoon-wizard]

Two and Half Assholes

An entire one person (shout out to @jumpfiend) expressed their wish for me to write an angry essay about the long dead show Two and Half Men (2003-2015) and all the problems it has. Allow me to start by saying that I am by no means a professional critic and I have never really written an in-depth review of anything. But I have a lot of feelings that I need to get out about this shitshow, otherwise my head is gonna explode next time my father insists on watching it.

Just a warning, this is a very long post.

What is Two and Half Men about?

If I tried to write my own summary here, I would probably end up tearing it to shreds already. Instead, I’m going to borrow the annotation from IMDB.com: “A hedonistic jingle writer's free-wheeling life comes to an abrupt halt when his brother and 10-year-old nephew move into his beachfront house.”

That doesn’t really say much, does it now. Luckily, the same site also provides us with a wide range of plot (hahahah “plot”) summaries written by users. This one tells us a little more: “The Harper brothers Charlie and Alan are almost opposites but form a great team. They have little in common except their dislike for their mundane, maternally cold and domineering mother, Evelyn. Alan, a compulsively neat chiropractor and control-freak, is thrown out by his manipulative wife Judith who nevertheless gets him to pay for everything and do most jobs in the house. Charlie is a freelance jingle composer and irresistible Casanova who lives in a luxurious beach-house and rarely gets up before noon. Charlie "temporarily" allows Alan and his son Jake, a food-obsessed, lazy kid who shuttles between his parents, to move in with them after Alan's separation/divorce. The sitcom revolves around their conflicting lifestyles, raising Jake (who has the efficient, caring dad while having a ball with his fun-loving sugar uncle who teaches him boyish things), and bantering with Evelyn and various other friends and family. Other fairly regular characters include Charlie's cleaning lady Berta and his rich, self-confessed stalker neighbor Rose who often sneaks in to spy on Charlie.”

Now that’s much better. It gives us quite a decent picture of the show’s ensemble. At least for the starter episodes, this is pretty much what it is. But as the show progresses, we see that the characters have a little bit more depth to them. But not that much. 

Let’s start with Charlie Harper, the “freelance jingle composer and irresistible Casanova who lives in a luxurious beach-house and rarely gets up before noon” portrayed by Charlie Sheen. (Is that man still a thing?) I think we can get a lot by taking apart this brief description of him. Freelance jingle composer pretty much means that he has a grand piano in his house and we can occasionally see him playing it while trying to put together words for a commercial for some random product. And that’s it. He has a few other musician friends who are just as big of assholes as he is, but we’ll get to that later. Other than that, we don’t really see him working at all. I think there is one episode about him writing kids’ songs because his girlfriend’s kid likes them. And one about him getting an award?? I don’t know man. The second part of that statement is a much more prominent “personality” trait of Charlie’s. In nearly every episode, we see him “dating” (meaning shagging and then dumping) another woman. I have mentioned in my initial post that this show is misogynistic. Don’t worry, I will also get into that later. For now I’m going to say that Charlie treats all these women absolutely disgustingly and we’re supposed to laugh at that. On the rare occasions we see him in a long term relationship (which happens twice I think? I’m not sure now), we get the stereotypical ball and chain bullshit. The woman takes all his freedom and tries to make him better. While I hate that trope with burning passion, I have to admit that in this case, she does have a solid point. Charlie is a pathetic excuse of a man who has to count on his good looks (questionable) and his riches. By the way, where did he even get them? Does composing jingles really make that much money? Is he that good of a gambler? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen another episode addressing the fact that the answer to both of these questions is no. Where the hell did this luxurious beach-house come from??? So many questions about a show that deserves so little.

Surprisingly, Charlie is the better one out of the two brothers. At the start, we really do feel sorry for Alan. His wife (who is a HORRIBLE person by the way) kicks him out and manipulates him into still paying for everything and doing many things for her around the house. Who wouldn’t feel bad for someone like this? He moves in with Charlie “for the time being”. Soon, we realise that he is not leaving the house anytime soon. He becomes a disgusting leech, a truly pathetic excuse of a man. And he doesn’t even bother hiding it. I’m not sure if we’re supposed to feel sorry for him or laugh at him, but either case doesn’t really work if you spend at least ten seconds thinking about it. How are we supposed to sympathise with a man that lives off of others and barely lifts a finger to change it? The worst part is, the show presents it as something completely normal. We don’t really see Alan’s actions turning against him, do we? Most of the time, whatever shit he does, works just fine for him. 

Another prominent character is Alan’s son, Jake, who grows up throughout the series. A fat little boy, not exactly bright. A spoiled brat (if it’s the fault of Alan or Judith is questionable) that has everything handed to him, as Charlie points out in one episode. It’s another bad personality trait that we’re supposed to find funny. And at first, we kind of do. But once again, as the show progresses, it gets worse. Jake becomes the oldest kid in his class because he fails so many times. He only gets to start middle school because “he’s too big for the desks in his class now”. A bit of a watered down Dudley Dursley now that I think about it. It feels that the older Jake gets, the dumber he is. He eventually joins the military because he is too daft to realise. (If I remember correctly, that was done only so Jake’s actor could leave the show because he pretty much realised how bad it was.)

The main reason why I hate this show so much, however, is its way of handling female characters. There’s a few prominent ones - the aforementioned Judith, Alan’s ex wife, a cold hearted manipulative bitch, that also follows the trope of “I’m breaking up with you because I’m a lesbian” for a while, but then it’s never addressed again, not even once. Then we have Alan and Charlie’s mother, Evelyn, also a cold hearted bitch lacking any motherly instincts whatsoever that the men blame for how they turned out. Honestly, I can kind of see it. There’s Rose, Charlie’s neighbour whom he had slept with once and who’s been obsessed with him ever since, following him pretty much wherever he goes and inappropriately visiting him, usually in order to chase any woman that gets close to him away. We have Berta, Charlie’s housekeeper that I would like to believe is there to show the differences between different classes, as she has a large family to take care of, fending of her daughters’ admirers and dealing with drug and alcohol issues. But at this point we all know she’s only there so we can laugh at her struggles and the witty remarks she likes to make. 

A special category of women in this show are the lovers and girlfriends. All of them end up either leaving the men for someone better (good for them tbh), or getting left by them. But remember, we’re supposed to always be siding with the men. The women are there for us to laugh at and hate. Rose the stalker? The only reason Charlie never gets rid of her is so we can laugh as she appears unexpected on his balcony over and over again. Are her apparent mental health issues ever addressed? Maybe once, but as a joke. You know, the classic ha ha ha ha look an insane person that’s hilarious. Judith the ex wife and her flock of weird friends (that Charlie converts)? Look, evil wives hating men, ha ha ha ha. Better run away from there, men, or they’ll eat you alive! Ha ha ha ha. Judith wanting support from friends and claiming she deserves to be happy is played off as something we scoff at. Chelsea, Charlie’s girlfriend and fiancée? The ball and chain thing, similarly to Judith, but not nearly as manipulative - this one we can see really means well and wants to help Charlie, but he’s a Man™ and cannot handle that, despite claiming to love her very dearly. Lindsay, Alan’s on again, off again girlfriend? Oof. Where to even start with that one. As most of the characters (save for maybe Judith), she starts off decent, despite her inexplicable desire for Alan. (Seriously though what in the world is up with that.) Also, now that I mentioned Alan’s weird sex appeal (not to me but to the female characters of the show, ew), what the hell was up with Judith wanting to suddenly fuck him again and HIM ENDING UP BEING THE FATHER OF HER DAUGHTER???? Was that the point when the writers just said “you know what, fuck this” or?

Some additional things the men on the show did to women:

Infidelity. Aka “ha ha ha many women want man what a lucky bastard he gets to fuck many women ha ha ha oh no he’s been caught ha ha ha funny”.

Infidelity with their friends/family members. I’m pretty sure this happened multiple times. One of the male protagonists gets a girlfriend. Girlfriend has an attractive daughter. Man sleeps with daughter. Girlfriend is mad. Man claims that it is actually a compliment to her because the daughter is just a younger version of her. Man gets upset when girlfriend disagrees. Poor man, girlfriend mean :(((

Another thing I would like to point out is the show’s dumbass approach to sexuality and gender. It’s the age old, straight men bullshit that lesbians = hot, gay men = ew. We see that throughout the whole thing a bunch of times. Alan ends up marrying Walden (whom I will talk about as well) so they can scam an adoption agency. That’s just wrong, man. That’s awful. And regarding gender, the way this shitshow handles trans people is disgusting. I can currently only think of one instance of this, but I have a feeling it happened multiple times, but with Charlie and Alan. They meet a woman, flirt, sleep together, all fun and games. But for some god forsaken reason, after all is done, the woman decides to be like “yeah by the way I used to be a dude” and?? Why?? First of, why would any trans person want to tell anyone their deadname and other things after successfully transitioning? I’m a cis woman, but this really makes no sense to me. Please correct me if I’m wrong on this one, but if you’ve spent years trying to pass as whatever gender you identify with, transitioned, you wouldn’t exactly go around sleeping with people and afterwards telling them about it, would you? And second of all, the entire reason why these characters appear are so we can be like “eww he slept with someone who used to have a penis eww” and laugh as they have a small crisis because of it. Just. Why?? I am aware that this is a thing other shows do/have done as well, but it really bothers me. And even when the guy decides to roll with it, all we get are those jokes that the woman is “more manly” than him. I remember vividly Alan hooking up with a trans lady and briefly dating her, only so we can see her pick a fight with a man, pay for their food and shit and Alan being flustered because he feels like less of a man. Again, please correct me if I’m wrong since my knowledge of gender is limited, but I’m about 97 % sure this is not how it works.

One would have thought that most of this would end after Charlie’s death. His place is taken by Walden Schmidt, portrayed by the angel that is Ashton Kutcher, a “billionaire internet entrepreneur who has recently been divorced and is now suicidal” (wiki). Before I dig in to how it actually got worse, let’s talk about Walden for a while. He really is a nice change. Walden is a genuinely good character, we see him working super hard and treating women well and just being great. I actually like him. The problem the show has when it comes to him is treating his suicidal-ness as just another little joke. Ha ha ha man wants to die man weak. Funny. But as we get over this part (rather quickly tbh), things involving Walden get actually good (besides the part where he sleeps with Alan’s mother). We do see some annoyingly familiar divorce related things, but in contrast to Alan, we see Walden actually get back on his own two feet. 

Alan will forever be my biggest issue with this show. I don’t know if he gets worse or if it’s just the contrast with Walden that makes it seem that way, but he becomes a bigger and bigger parasite, exploiting Walden’s kindness, becoming a lover to his, at that point, former girlfriend Lindsay and somehow exploiting her current boyfriend? He just goes haywire is what I’m trying to say.

I’m not saying that people like that don’t exist. We see it every day, the rich playboys, the pathetic incels. They are everywhere and we totally should talk about them. But not like this. We shouldn’t feel like we should sympathise with them, we shouldn’t hate those that try to criticise them, or those who want to get rid of them. We shouldn’t laugh when they hurt people around them. Men shouldn’t want to relate to them. Characters like this should be presented as something we should avoid becoming.

“What’s your problem? It’s just something I watch to unwind,” my father scoffs at me as I complain about yet another evening we all have to spend listening to the nonsense Two and Half Men brings us. Yea, maybe for you. Maybe you know better than to treat people around you, especially women, like they’re just something you can play around with and then throw into the sewers. Maybe you give everyone equal respect. (No he doesn’t, by the way.) But you know, with the way this TV channel plays this show over and over and over and over again (five episodes a day, every day, and the second they get to the end, they just start over), there’s probably a number of young people who don’t realise how wrong it is and take what’s said there as something to live by. Maybe they’ll think that it’s okay to use people to their advantage. Maybe they’ll think like a rich entitled middle aged straight white man. That’s my problem. Even though the show ended five years ago, it still lives on our televisions and it still gives us wrong examples on how to live our lives. That’s why I hate the show. Not just the awful writing and “plot” holes. It’s the way it treats people and presents it as something that’s totally fine. 

[caiminnent]

glass houses [Shaun & Lucy with mentions of one-sided shaundes & deslucy, rated T]

Prompt(s): sleep deprivation (BTHB, 2/25) + 14

Summary: “We’re in love with the same person. Friendships have been built on less common ground.”

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed

Tags: College AU, Bonding, Pining, Unrequited Crush

2.3K || Also on AO3.

Forty three—no, forty two minutes left to have lunch, get his essay printed and rush to Leonardo’s office on the other side of the campus—and Rebecca is still droning on and on about the part next Saturday, because clearly the life he doesn’t have is more important than the grade he won’t be getting unless they pick up the pace already. Murder on school grounds would probably get him expelled, among other things, which is why he’s only contemplating it; but an under-slept, under-caffeinated man has his limits and he is approaching his fast.

“No, Rebecca,” he repeats on a deep sigh as they finally get in line behind a couple in matching PJ’s, seemingly having a heated argument through sharp looks and contained gestures in that way only couples can. “I do not want to come to the party, thank you very much. I’m not even invited, remember?”

“I could ask Lucy,” she offers, unfazed. “We’re having lunch with her anyway, I could mention it then—”

His stomach drops.

“—I’m sure she won’t mind. I mean, the more the merrier—”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, “We’re what?” he cuts in. The Couple glance over with raised brows and pursed lips, as if he sullied their petty issues by having his own.

She frowns. “What?”

He just shakes his head. Lunch with Lucy, Christ. Today just keeps giving. “You won’t ask her to invite me,” he says, pinning her with his I Mean It, Rebecca look. “Or don’t even hope for a single page from my notes ever again.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll swear on anything, Rebecca.”

Fishing her phone out of her pocket, “Whatever,” she throws, fingers already dancing on the screen. His own remains suspiciously silent in his bag. “What’s your beef with Lucy anyway?”

The Couple aren’t even pretending not to listen in, half-turned in their direction as they are. He glares steadily at them until they get their noses out of his business and back into their own, although some of those meaningful looks are probably about him this time. Hell if he cares.

“I don’t even know Lucy,” he points out, rubbing at the throbbing spot over his brow—not that that’s ever helped. “Why would I have a problem with her?”

“You get weird whenever I mention her, man. Coulda thought you had a thing for her if I didn’t know better.” Pockets the phone again, shrugging a shoulder at his look. “It’s either that or hate.”

Oh for the love of— “I don’t hate her, either,” he says—the truth, too, no matter the disbelieving face she makes at him. He has no real reason to hate Lucy. He just... doesn’t prefer to share space with her if he doesn’t absolutely have to.

If he sometimes goes out of his way to make sure he doesn’t, well.

By some miracle—more likely, because they’re finally within reach of food—she drops the subject, shoving a tray into his hands and grabbing one of her own. His stomach curls into itself at the sight of half the containers, the other half he can’t even recognise beyond had it before and didn’t die.

He accepts a serving of each and trails off after Rebecca.

Once they push past the growing crowd towards the tables, scanning the sea of heads, “You should try to get along with Lucy, you know,” she pipes up—because Rebecca leaving anything alone would’ve been too much like good luck to happen to him. “You know who she’s friends with.”

“Rebecca.”

“I’m just saying. Sheesh, someone’s touchy today.”

And whose fault is that, he’s about to snap when he spots Lucy off to the side, dumping an ungodly amount of sugar into her coffee—from Creed Coffee, no less. His first stop as soon as he drops off his essay; he’s earned a treat.

Because it’s just that kind of day, Lucy chooses that moment to look up and catch him staring like a buffoon. She beams at him like there was no one she would’ve been happier to see, waving them over.

“There she is,” Rebecca says, taking a sharp turn in her direction. He follows suit, squeezing between tables she breezes through and almost spilling his chow all over people on three separate occasions until they safely take their places across from Lucy.

To his credit, when Lucy smiles at him again, he does try to return it. His face muscles ignore the command entirely.

The women have already jumped into conversation on nothing he particularly cares about; he tunes them out for the most part and buries himself into his ‘food’ instead, fielding Rebecca’s attempts to lure him in with one-word responses and the occasional grunt when he can get away with it. About twenty minutes left; he can make it if he hurries. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Ignore him,” she stage-whispers to Lucy—with ‘him’ sitting right next to them, thank you very much. “His coffee machine broke last night.”

The audacity. “She means she broke it,” he clarifies around his spoon. It’s not grumbling if he’s right.

“Semantics,” she waves it off, reaching for her coat. “I’ll fix it when I get back, promise.”

“Wait, where the hell are you going?”

Raising her brows, “To turn in our papers, like we talked?” Rebecca says, confusion so thick in her tone that he almost doubts his own memory—except he could recognise that glint in her eyes anywhere. “You’ll keep Lucy company while I’m gone, right?”

That meddling little—

“Right,” he says for Lucy’s benefit, who is glancing between them with polite curiosity, doing his best to convey you owe me so much for this with one look. “Of course I will.”

Rebecca dares to grin at him, dropping the pretence altogether. All of three seconds and she’s off, leaving only an unused fork behind.

Without her around, the table has gone alarmingly smaller, Lucy everywhere within his sight unless he stares straight down at his tray. Had he ever been alone with Lucy before? Alone alone, within speaking distance, without anything or anyone to hide behind?

He doesn’t even have coffee to hide behind now.

One slides in front of him.

Raising her hands, “You look like you need it more,” Lucy explains, that too-warm smile on her lips; he feels shittier the longer he looks at it. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He did catch a sight of himself on the way here—not his best moment.

The polite no, thank you he should say is on the tip of his tongue—almost impossible to get out with the warm temptation is sitting right there in front of him, right under his nose, smelling—well, sort of like a unicorn exploded in there and caramel. Not that he can afford to be picky.  

Besides, he’s survived vending machine sludge; it only goes up from there.

“Come on, take it,” she insists, honest-to-god batting eyelashes at him. “So that I can feel a little better about asking for your ComLit notes next week.”

He snorts and accepts the bribe, only too eager. It’s syrupy to the point of nauseating, not unlike those energy drinks Rebecca fills the dustbin with, except with a lot less immediate kick. He doubts there’s any caffeine in there, even.

Magic might be involved, however, given the way he’s already feeling a tad closer to human.

He nods his thanks. She returns it.

“You know, Shaun,” she starts slowly, with an odd sort of caution—or maybe he’s just not used to people who think before they speak anymore. “I don’t know what Rebecca threatened you with, but you don’t have to sit with me just to be nice. I know you don’t really like me.”

He can’t help a wince—then a deeper one, when it hits that this was probably among the worst ways he could’ve reacted to a statement like that. Leave it to him to put his foot in his mouth without even opening it.

“It’s fine,” she adds, saving him from himself. “I mean it. Not everyone has to be friends.”

That’s not it, not at all.

Thing is, under different circumstances, they could’ve been friends, he and Lucy. He doesn’t know her, not really; but by the electives they keep coming across each other in and the books she carries, he doesn’t doubt they could find plenty to talk about if, if, he could get his head out of his arse and get over—

Well. He obviously can’t tell her all that.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not you,” he allows, the closest thing to an explanation he can afford to give.

“It’s okay,” she says gently, those huge, impossibly blue puppy eyes of hers trained on his. “I know.”

Blood freezes in his veins.

It’s a simple phrase. It doesn’t have to mean anything beyond the face value. There’s no reason for it to; he’d been careful—more than, really—but that smile, all sadness and sympathy—

He swallows against the bitter taste in his mouth, a light burn all the way down his throat, pooling in the pit of his stomach. “You do?”

“I do,” she confirms, jerking her head somewhere to his far right. He follows her gaze to—

Oh, hell. She does.

“He doesn’t know,” she answers his unasked question, lowly enough that the rush of blood in his ears almost drowns out the words. “Don’t worry, you’re not obvious about it or anything.”

Clearly he is, if she noticed.

He risks another glance—he is sprawled on his seat with an arm resting on the other one, laughing at whatever bollocks story Cross might be telling, that stupid one-strap bag of his sitting on the table.

“You’re sure he doesn’t?” he has to ask, heart both at his feet and racing in his chest somehow.

She nods. “Positive. He’s the worst when it comes to this sort of thing, you wouldn’t believe it. He won’t notice unless you come at him with a brick that says I like you.”

Something at the back of his mind prickles like static.

See, past the initial shock, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out where he’d gone wrong. As far as social circles go, his and his are on different planes entirely. They don’t have mutual friends beyond the tangential; they don’t frequent the same places unless Rebecca drags him out to Bad Weather; they hardly talked enough for him to develop this… thing he’s been saddled with, even. He’d thought—as long as he kept to his corner of life where he doesn’t have to face them, he’d thought he could pretend his feelings away.

It had never even occurred to him that someone might notice him not looking. That someone might have reason to care why.

He’s fairly certain of the answer when he asks, his stomach heavy with dread, “Speaking from experience?”

Her face goes carefully blank. It’s as good a confirmation as any.

He takes a deep breath, locking the irrational sting of disappointment down and away, where he can pretend it doesn’t exist, either. What does it matter if she is the competition? He had decided not to pursue that line of thought long ago. What does it matter if he’d already lost?

“You’re not obvious, either,” he tries. She smiles, if that rueful little curl can be called one. “He doesn’t know?”

She shrugs, too nonchalant to actually be that. “Or doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. I dropped, like, a lot of hints; no one’s that oblivious.”

Would it be awkward if he kind of sort of maybe wants to give her a hug?

It would, wouldn’t it.

What even is his life.

“Anyway,” she sighs, glancing at her watch. “Time to leave. Vidic’s class.”

Ugh. That he doesn’t envy her for. “Good luck,” he offers, reaching for the cup again—a bit sorry to have taken it from her, now.

She makes a face. “Thanks.” She drops her spoon on her mostly full tray, Rebecca’s abandoned fork with it. “By the way, it’s his birthday next Saturday. We’re having a party at our place; you should come.”

He almost chokes on the next sip, saved by a stray half second. “Me?”

She raises a brow, a perfectly arched duh.

His brain stutters. Why does she—why would she want him there, if she knows? If she—

It makes no sense.

Lucy is still seated across from him, calmly waiting him out like there’s nothing odd to this. Just two friends making casual weekend plans.

Not all that sure it’s not the exhaustion fucking with him, he licks his lips. “So you’re fine with…”

“That you’re on the same boat?” She shrugs again, zipping up her jacket. “We’re in love with the same person. Friendships have been built on less common ground.”

Huh.

Digging into her bag, she comes up with a blue marker, reaching for the other cup. “My number,” she says as she writes on the sleeve and puts it back, written part facing him—all neat, efficient lines, because of course. “Let me know if you make up your mind.”

He nods blankly, for lack of a better response. She smiles, standing up with her tray.

She’s already halfway to the door when he remembers: “I’ll bring the notes!”

She winks at him over her shoulder, fixes her bag and disappears into the crowd.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Aftershocks (baon)

Summary: Everyone is still dealing with the effects of the events in 'Any Other Tuesday'.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Depression/Therapy/Nightmares

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

Despite years of being above ground, Edge never lost the habit of sleeping lightly. Not that he’d ever tried; his trust in this world only extended so far and he often woke a time or two in the night, listening through the white noise of the fan before relaxing back into sleep.

It had its uses. For one, it made it very difficult for Stretch to hide that the nightmares had started again. Whether he was curled around Edge or sleeping in a sprawl, taking up far more than his fair share of the mattress, he couldn’t hide it when he woke with a jolt. Couldn’t disguise his trembling, the panicked tempo of his breathing, the sweat that slicked his bones and the sheets.

Those nights, Stretch said nothing, but if he saw the gleam of Edge’s eye lights through the darkness, he would shift into cradle of Edge’s arms. Grip at him with too-tight hands and lie awake, his own eye lights a bare pinprick through the dim.

He didn’t talk about it then or the next day, didn’t protest when Edge randomly Checked him, silently verifying his HP was holding steady. And Edge didn’t comment when Stretch started taking his sleeping medication again.

There was nothing to be said. Not when his own dreams held memories of blood, of Jeff laying dying on the ground, and the unsettled LV in his soul was a bloated, uncomfortable pressure when he woke.

Every day gave distance for Edge, every night he dreamed of it less and less. But Stretch’s nightmares seemed to be lingering despite the medicine. Still, Edge didn’t press Stretch to speak of it.

Not yet.

It was the morning after one such nightmare and Stretch was sitting in the kitchen with him far earlier than normal, watching Edge silently as he went through his morning routine. The sun was only barely creeping in through the window, a promise of the coming heat. There was a cup of coffee was in Stretch’s hands, swimming with his normal amounts of cream and sugar, but it was mostly untouched. The shadows beneath his sockets were only a little worrisome; more so was the way his eye lights flicked around the kitchen, focusing on anything but Edge. The way he fiddled with the muffin on his plate, tearing it to crumbs without eating a bite.

Even in the quiet kitchen Edge strained to hear him when Stretch finally spoke, “so, um, i scheduled an extra appointment to see my therapist tonight. think you can drive me?”

That uncomfortable mumble filled Edge with overwhelming relief that he quickly hid, answering with a bland, “Of course.”

Of course.

That evening, Edge sat alone in the waiting room with his laptop, working, deliberately sitting as far away from the door as he could. He ignored the lurch in his soul when Stretch emerged again with tear-stained cheekbones. Allowed Stretch to come to him, settling at his feet and the laptop was pushed carelessly aside to make room for Stretch’s skull to rest in his lap. He crooned soft, wordless comfort, gently stroking his skull until he was ready for a mostly silent drive home.

But there were no nightmares that night.

The next day, those shadows beneath his sockets were softened, Stretch’s smiles coming easier without the strain lurking beneath, and if he went back to seeing his therapist twice a week instead of once, then Edge was more than willing to go with him if that was what Stretch wanted.

Not perfect, not yet, but proof that things would get better, slowly, in drips and drabs. All Edge could offer was the comfort of his arms. He could, and would, be there, for whatever Stretch needed.

From those soft smiles that were re-emerging, Edge thought maybe it was enough.

~~*~~

~~*~~

In the time since his brother moved in with Edge, Blue had grown accustomed to living on his own.

Mostly accustomed, and honestly, even before Papy moved out, Blue had been spending quite a lot of time traveling, going to different cities and countries, meeting head of States, and spending his days discussing treaties and trade agreements.

It was all very exciting and enjoyable, though there were secret, guilty moments where he wondered if those frequent trips had been the start of his brother drifting away from him.

But no, surely not, because even when they were at home together, his brother could be frustratingly difficult. Insisting on doing things on his own when he should be resting, for example, and honestly when a person was sick, they should allow themselves to be sick rather than stubbornly insisting on getting their own glass of juice or sneaking a cigarette that would only hold back their recovery.

Blue loved his brother dearly, but Papy excelled in being exasperating. It was a wonder that Edge tolerated it with so much patience.

His Human friend, on the other hand…

“Could I have another glass of juice, please?”

“Of course!” Blue beamed at his house guest and bustled into the kitchen. Apple juice, with plenty of ice, and Jeff’s honest gratitude for it made Blue’s soul feel fluffy and light.

Jeff was settled in on the sofa, plenty of pillows surrounding him and extra blankets within reach. His breakfast dishes were all but licked clean, Blue noticed with delight. Even better, his manners were impeccable, he chewed with his mouth closed, always tucked a napkin into his lap, and happily accepted seconds.

Next movie night, Blue planned to slyly suggest his brother to spend even more time with his friend. Enough exposure and some of those manners might rub off.

It was worth a try!

Plus, Jeff was a delightful companion. He loved puzzles and games, was content to watch Mettaton specials, and with him here, Papy stopped by daily to check in, often staying for lunch.

It was enough to make Blue mourn that the days of bed rest were coming to an end. The doctors believed Jeff would be well enough to return to work next week, and Blue supposed he’d have to trust their expertise, even though he privately thought someone who’d been through such a traumatizing experience should take a little more time, honestly, he’d had surgery, surely a few more days was appropriate and—

Suddenly, Blue realized that his house guest was very quiet this morning. Requests for juice aside, Jeff hadn't made a single comment about the Good Morning with Mettaton show, not even to criticize the choice of outfits or guests, something both he and Blue did daily with shared enthusiasm.

“Is everything all right?” Blue asked, gently. He moved to sit on the end of the sofa, noting the way Jeff did not look at him. Ah, here was the hint of Papy’s nature in him. Keeping secrets that need not be kept, for reasons that Blue never understood. Papy always kept to his stubborn silence, but perhaps Jeff only needed a bit of prodding. “You can talk to me, you know. Maybe I can help!”

“It’s just—" Jeff sighed deeply and proved once again to be far more sensible than those he befriended by saying, “Antwan is acting weird.”

Weird? Blue wasn’t sure about that. He didn’t know Antwan well; his own work didn’t often involve the legal department. He seemed friendly enough. He came to visit daily after work, often bringing small gifts and treats with him. Nothing outrageous, but often adorably thoughtful. Now, his taste might be questionable; one day he’d brought a small plushie that resembled an angry tomato and Blue hadn’t a clue why Jeff found it so hilarious, but the toy was by his side wherever he was resting. Antwan always stayed for dinner, giving Blue another guest to fuss over, honestly, Antwan was growing on him as quickly as Jeff had.

“He seems all right to me?” Blue ventured, hesitantly. “How is he being weird?”

Jeff only shrugged and his downcast expression made Blue frown in concern. “He just is. He’s so quiet when he’s here, and he doesn’t even seem to mind sleeping on the sofa. I just…maybe he’s thinking about dumping me.”

The last was said in a rush, as though Jeff forced the words out. The little tomato was in his hands, the poor thing bulging with how hard Jeff was gripping him.

Blue could only blink at him, utterly bewildered. “Why would he do that?”

His experience in relationships was admittedly as an observer only; that was how Blue preferred it. But frankly, he rather thought Antwan seemed more distraught than distant. He looked similar to Edge whenever Papy was hurt or injured, concern leaking around the edges of control, and if nothing else, Blue knew that Edge adored his brother.

But Jeff only shrugged again, that downtrodden expression lingering.

Hm, that would never do, not for someone recovering. “Well, I don’t think you need to be worrying about that, but if it helps, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

That finally made Jeff look at Blue in hopeful surprise. “Really? The doctor said I should be back in my feet by next week.”

“That’s true,” Blue agreed. “But I have a spare room and aren’t you supposed to be moving to New New Home, anyway?”

Jeff nodded thoughtfully. “Edge and I talked about it once, but we didn’t decide anything.”

“I would be happy to help you decide,” Blue assured him. “And you’d be more than welcome. Now, tell me, what do you think of Mettaton’s shoes today?”

Immediately Jeff launched into a rant about Louboutin heels, and Blue listened peacefully, interjecting occasionally but mostly basking in Jeff’s chatter, his wild gestures, so very much like Papy when he was worked up. Shoes instead of science, but still much the same.

It would be rather nice to have someone stay with him a bit longer. If Papy stopped by for lunch today, perhaps they could discuss moving Jeff’s things.

Plan made, Blue focused on listening, absently planning out lunch and dinner in the back of his mind. There were guests to cook for and he wanted them to enjoy his best efforts.

~~*~~

~~*~~

The Embassy building had taken close to a year to plan and another to construct, with both Monsters and Humans involved in its completion. Everything from location to safety requirements to possible expansion and parking was taken into careful consideration and when it was finished, it was a fine, welcoming structure for Monsters to begin their integration into the society Aboveground.

Asgore for one appreciated the high ceilings.

His bulk still made passing through the hallways somewhat awkward. Other Monsters were often forced rather close to the wall, though no one ever seemed to mind. Asgore was always met with happy greetings and warm smiles from all, a welcome sign that despite any setbacks, his people were growing and flourishing.

The difference between this and those graying, last days Underground was enough to prove all his efforts were worth it. Someday, perhaps, his people would be well-established and no longer need him, and when that day came, his gardening would be more than a hobby to be dabbled in. It was a quiet hope he carried with him through his days.

Janice was at her desk when he went into the outer office, and her professional smile widened when she saw him. “Good morning!”

“Howdy!” Asgore boomed, jovially. “Is he in?” It was more than likely a rhetorical question. Edge was always in, usually eating his lunch at his desk and staying far later than he should.

Though to be fair, the days of staying late in his office had dwindled quite a bit since his relationship began with Stretch.

Stretch, ah, now there was a conundrum. Outwardly lazily cheerful, inwardly filled with strange depths and unspoken secrets.

The first time they’d met, these strange skeletons from unknown worlds, Asgore hadn’t known what to make of them. It challenged his understanding of the very Universe, but that knowledge had quickly been shuffled aside by the sudden appearance of a Human, of Frisk.

Even with all the time that had passed since then, Stretch was still the outlier, still the one who clung to his dislike. Not that Asgore didn’t understand, far from it. It was at that first meeting and of all of them, Asgore had seen the cold truth in Stretch’s expression. The flare in his eye lights was the same one that Sans wore on the very rare occasions he was pressed into his other, unspoken duties.

From the visible distaste that came afterward, he’d Seen far more than Asgore would ever willingly share. Stretch had seen the state of his soul and found it lacking, and that knowledge weighed heavily.

It wasn’t Asgore’s place to beg for forgiveness, he knew. What was done was done, apologies changed nothing. All he could do was try to better himself and perhaps someday, that Judgement would change. He’d seen such a thing before, with Edge.

That, too, gave him hope.

But that was a matter for another day. Janice shooed him readily on and Asgore went to the door of Edge’s office, knocking politely before he went in.

Edge was at his desk, still typing as Asgore sank into a large chair with a groan. If there was any stress hidden beneath his aura of cool competence, Asgore could not see it. The moment Asgore was settled, Edge’s full attention was on him, laser-sharp. His eye lights missed little and Asgore could almost feel them observing his carefully hidden exhaustion, taking in every minute detail. It made him excellent at his job, though there were days Asgore wished Edge saw a little less. At least the depth of his sight ended skin-deep.

“What can I do for you, Your Highness,” Edge asked crisply.

With an effort, Asgore resisted the urge to remind Edge yet again to simply call him by his name.

“I had a meeting with the Mayor today,” Asgore said. He no longer bothered to disguise his weariness, not in this office. He did not miss the faint irritation that crossed Edge’s face, but it was quickly gone.

His frustration that he wasn’t invited to these meetings was a point of friction between them. Asgore’s reasoning was twofold; Edge was excellent as a director, but struggled with politics. He wasn’t always good at reading intentions, especially Humans, his honesty was occasionally troublesome, and while his self-control was excellent, the ability to sit in stoic silence brought little to the negotiation table.

There was also the simple fact that Humans often found Edge’s appearance threatening. No fuzzy buns for him and never mind that Asgore’s LV was the higher of the two of them. Humans didn’t know that and despite his size, they generally found him warm and charming. His booming voice was jolly, not threatening, his fur-softened face reminiscent of childhood movies.

To be fair to the Humans, Asgore had found the Monsters from Underfell somewhat unsettling when they’d first arrived in this world.

Frankly, Red still unsettled him.

But that often meant Asgore was left to his own devices in these meetings with no one but his own guards. Easily handled, of course; his centuries as leader of his people gave him no little experience in politics, but it was wearisome.

Human laws and restrictions were like that.

If nothing else, commiseration softened some of Edge’s rigid formality. “What is it this time?”

“It seems someone on the City Council decided to introduce an idea for all Monsters to have their LV included in their ID.” He held up a hand as outrage flashed across Edge’s face. “He was only making me aware and I’m doing the same for you. The Mayor has already reminded them that not only does that violate the amnesty agreement, but unless they are prepared for the Humans of Ebott to list their criminal activities on their ID’s, it’s a prejudicial.”

Edge was already typing furiously and Asgore had no doubt that there were already several ideas on the cusp of being implemented with others being planned. Edge was a brilliant strategist, could see outcomes from multiple angles and the Embassy relied heavily on his skills.

Perhaps that was what made it easy for others to overlook or simply forget how young he was. Asgore couldn’t help feeling somewhat fatherly towards him, an urge he tried to suppress with limited success, knowing it would not be welcome. His own years pressed down on him all too often, centuries worth, and they might well need Edge’s skills for a long while yet. Fatherly urges or not, he wasn’t about to allow Edge to follow him down a path that only led to loneliness.

“I’ll have teams looking into it immediately,” Edge was saying, still typing furiously. “We’ll need to make sure there’s no motions we’ll need to file.”

That intensity was one of the things that made him so excellent at his job. A shame it was time to pull it out from under him.

“Good,” Asgore said heartily. “And how is Jeff doing?”

The non sequitur broke through that implacable focus, as it was meant to. Edge blinked, his attention refocusing on Asgore, “He’s fine as far as I know. He’s scheduled to start working next week in Public Relations. Half-days to begin with, until he’s fully recovered, but I think he’ll be invaluable to their team.”

Of course Edge would find a way to bring work back into it. But Asgore hadn’t been a King for centuries without knowing how to handle people. “I think so as well. And Stretch, he’s doing well?”

One of the quickest ways to throw Edge out of his working persona was to mention his husband. Merely saying his name was enough to bring a certain warmth to his expression. It made nostalgia twinge in Asgore’s soul, the memory of another hope, another person from whom he was still waiting on forgiveness

“He’s doing better.” No mention of Stretch’s upcoming appointment with Alphys, but that was no surprise. Edge was rather firm on his privacy and even so, if there was anything to be truly concerned about, Asgore would hear it from Alphys herself.

“That is good to hear. I’d say give him my well-wishes when you go home tonight but—" Asgore trailed off meaningfully.

Edge nodded somewhat wryly, well aware of Stretch’s dislike, but Asgore’s mission of subtly reminding Edge to go home instead of working all night was accomplished.

If it was less than successful, well, Edge wasn’t the only person who could strategize and there were plenty of people who would be willing to interrupt his work until he fled in a huff of self-defense, home to the person he cared for most.

That tug of fatherly affection niggled in his soul, and if Asgore allowed it to stay, well, there were few who could see it.

Perhaps it would raise him in their esteem. Perhaps not. There was time yet to earn it and until then, that little hope was set alongside his mental garden, where Toriel’s forgiveness lived.

Someday, all Monsters would be free and happy. Even him.

-finis-

[bee-squared-official]

Some Detroit: Become Human Reverse AU Headcanons

Connor and Nathan are twins. Everyone thinks they’re identical, but technically, genetically, they’re fraternal. The only visible differences between them is height difference (Nathan is like a foot taller than Connor) and eye color (Connor’s are brown, Nathan’s are grey).

Connor was born about five minutes earlier than Nathan. Nathan hates this. Nathan loves when people mistake him for the older twin, but also loves correcting mistakes. This creates constant internal conflict for Nathan.

Connor emotes heavily, constantly on the verge of tears (happy tears, sad tears, angry tears, confused tears, etc.) or he runs around like a hyperactive child. Nathan doesn’t emote at all, but is very sensitive, so you get a lot of situations where in person he responds with a snarky comment, and then later he’s sitting staring at a wall for hours reanalyzing everything that was said and hating himself. Only Connor can really snap him out of it when he's in a funk like that.

Connor and Nathan are forced to share an apartment because of budget concerns. There is a tape line down the center, installed less than a day after they moved in. Connor’s side is clean and organized, while Nathan’s is in complete disarray (he claims he knows where everything is, but Connor is a neat freak).

Connor and Nathan both work at the DPD, but Connor started there first and has a higher rank. Connor’s natural talent, intuition, and charm helped him out of police school much faster than Nathan, who always had to work harder to get the same recognition. Nathan is smarter, faster, and stronger than Connor, and can’t understand why Connor is “better” at police work than him. Connor didn’t even want to be a detective when they were little, he wanted to be a veterinarian. And in college, he studied music theory. But he just had to get Nathan’s dream job more than a year before Nathan did...this is still a sore topic with Nathan.

Connor and Nathan cannot be partnered together on cases. Amanda, the police chief, tried this exactly three times, and though Connor handled himself well, the resulting damage Nathan caused to property and various DPD employees is just not worth it.

Connor and Nathan are brought in for almost every interrogation to do their “good cop, bad cop” routine. Because Connor was always so happy and Nathan was always so cold and emotionless, the first time they tried it, Connor was the good cop and Nathan was the bad cop. But Nathan’s unemotional approach just wasn’t intimidating enough, and Connor eventually grew frustrated enough to start screaming and throwing things, to the point that Nathan could barely hold him back. After the confession, Connor and Nathan switched roles. Nathan goes in with a glass of water and his unemotional “you don’t want them to send in my brother” bit, then Connor comes in and just lets out all of his anger and stress. It works upsettingly well, and new recruits are often scared of Connor until they get to know him.

Amanda is kind and caring...to Nathan. For some reason no one can fathom, Amanda can’t stand Connor. She keeps setting higher than normal expectations on him and then yelling at him when he fails. She sends him out on dangerous missions with no guarantee of backup, seemingly unconcerned for his safety. She claims he can handle the responsibility, but everyone can tell that’s not true. Connor idolizes her and is desperate to make her happy, but he never can. She walks the line, never abusing him enough to get fired, but never letting up. For some other reason no one understands, she likes Nathan and wants to groom him for management. Nathan loves praise and attention, but he can tell something is wrong with the way she acts, and keeps his distance from her. Connor walks out of every conversation with her heartbroken and confused, and Nathan can't figure out how to uncouple Connor’s self worth from Amanda’s approval.

Connor loves dogs. Nathan is allergic, and even stray dog hairs on Connor’s jacket can set him off. Unfortunately, Nathan also loves dogs. There are often sad situations in which they hug each other and cry about the dogs that they cannot pet.

Connor is almost always in uniform, and when he isn’t, he wears very neat clothes. He has one messy outfit that he wears as a disguise, only in extreme situations. He likes to be neat. Nathan just wears whatever is around, so long as it’s comfortable and doesn’t interfere with whatever he’s doing.

Connor is very unhealthy. He practically lives on sugary sodas and candy. He barely eats real food, and is constantly chugging energy drinks and pills to stay awake. He occasionally passes out from dehydration, especially if he's working on a particularly difficult case.

Nathan has a sensitivity disorder. He hates tight or sleek clothing, and avoids it as much as he can. Textures of certain foods can upset him to the point of throwing up if he tries to eat them. He can’t swallow pills. Loud noises, chewing noises, and various other sounds bother him. He gets headaches easily. He doesn’t like being touched, and he doesn’t like heavy metal.

Connor loves heavy metal, and he loves being touched. Connor lives for physical affection, and loves to give it to others. He’s always fidgeting or doodling on his arm, and if someone plays with his hair, he absolutely melts. He loves hugs and cuddling so much. 

Cyberlife gifts two androids to the DPD. The HK800 model, called “Hank,” is assigned to work with Connor. The GV900 model, “Gavin,” works with Nathan.

Connor loves androids, and immediately tries to befriend Hank. He really wants to get along, but Hank is indifferent and cold. Hank, Connor realizes, hates most androids because he sees them as potential threats that could go deviant. Connor turns on the charm to get Hank to like him, which usually works on humans given enough time. The only response he ever gets is Hank’s complaints about his detective work, appearance, or voice. And sometimes, Connor thinks that the charm is even driving Hank further away from him. 

Connor secretly starts trying to turn Hank deviant once he realizes the nonviolent nature of the android revolution. Multiple days in a row, he arrives at the DPD with flowers for Hank and a declaration of love. Each day it gets more and more heartfelt and serious, until it becomes obvious to everyone (everyone but Hank) that Connor really does feel this way about Hank. Though they become close friends, Hank never deviates. Nathan reminds Connor that it’s not an emotional “shock”, just emotional, to bring flowers every day, but Connor doesn’t stop.

Nathan and Gavin get along poorly. Nathan has never cared much for androids, and originally saw Gavin as a servant. Gavin never does as he’s told though, refusing to get coffee or fetch papers, claiming that it “distracts from his mission.” Nathan thinks Gavin is just being a jerk.

Gavin deviated the first day he saw Connor bringing Hank flowers. He does his best to keep his new emotions under control, but he can't stop himself from getting more and more snarky with Nathan. Nathan finally snaps, and punches Gavin in the stomach, briefly disengaging Gavin’s thirium pump. Gavin pretends that this is the moment at which he deviated, and now that he no longer has to keep his emotions a secret, starts actively antagonizing Nathan. Nathan secretly loving having a worthy sparring partner, and the two become close friends.

Hank is forced to break into Connor’s apartment when Connor doesn’t show up to work. Passed out again in some sort of sugar coma/dehydration thing, Connor is forced to rely on Hank’s help to get cleaned up and functional again. Hank begins to see Connor as something similar to a child he’s babysitting, and Connor begins to see Hank as a father figure (he and Nathan were abandoned by their father when they were younger, so it’s nice to finally have something like that).

There’s an HK800 model at the Eden club when Connor and Hank go to investigate. Connor is beyond embarrassed and won’t stop coughing awkwardly and blushing, while Hank focuses on the mission. The next day, there are no flowers. Connor takes Hank aside, privately, and apologizes. He says that he’s worried Hank will think he did all that as some kind of joke, or public humiliation show. He doesn’t want Hank to feel like an object, but he’s realized that his actions have been objectifying Hank. He promises to stop his antics and start treating Hank with more respect, as Hank deserves. In tears by this point, Connor apologizes again and flees. He doesn't come back to work that day, and doesn’t find out until later that that conversation is the moment when Hank deviated.

Connor and Hank visit the home of billionaire Chloe, designer of the first android to pass the Turing test (a KM230 model named Kamski) and once the CEO of Cyberlife. Her house is full of half naked androids in loose robes, all with identical man buns and subservient, quiet attitudes. After forcing Hank on a weird journey where she tries to make Hank shoot Kamski, she’s cryptic and weird about the information she shares before sending them away. Connor is fascinated and wants to spend more time at her house. Hank, shaken up, escorts Connor away and nearly warns Chloe not to talk to him or his son ever again.

Deviated and on a mission to free the android warehouse from Cyberlife control, Hank is surprised when another HK800 model shows up with his kidnapped partner. Connor urges Hank to forget about him and focus on waking the androids, but the duplicate Hank’s decision to punch Connor is what sends the real Hank over the edge. Connor breaks away long enough to pull a gun on the Hanks, both of whom try to prove that they are the real one. Connor, overwhelmed by the decision, starts crying. The real Hank steps forward to try to help him, and immediately Connor shoots the fake Hank, who hadn’t moved or reacted at all. Connor tells Hank that he knew it was the real him. They hug, and Hank wakes the androids.

Following the revolution, Hank and Gavin are allowed to continue working at the DPD, but now with full legal status as citizens and paying jobs. Hank acquires a secondary model as a backup, one capable of more in-depth analysis than Hank’s tongue is. The new model has enhanced hearing, taste, and smell, and is supposed to be very useful in tracking. It’s modeled after a large St Bernard dog. It’s named Sumo, and it doesn’t shed real hairs to trigger Nathan’s allergies. The adventures only continue from there.

PLEASE feel free to message me and discuss this, or write a fanfiction or make art. If you do PLEASE SEND IT TO MEeeeeeeeee

[hoe-imaginess]

Zoro, Doflamingo, Mihawk & Crocodile sugar daddy headcanons?

combining these!!!!

Zoro

•He is such a shitty sugar daddy lmao. All he does is spend his money on booze, so he’s not likely to want to give any to a sugar baby

•Zoro doesn’t consider his sugar baby to be a sugar baby tbh. They’re just someone he occasionally hooks up with whom he’ll slip a few beri to every once in a while if they beg enough

•He pretty much hates dealing with all sorts of finances which means taking care of little transactions for every sugar appointment is just too much. He doesn’t know how much he owes his sugar baby, so he just gives them a shit load of money until they’re satisfied and stop bothering him lmao

•Occasionally he’ll actually make use of his sugar daddy status the right way and buy his baby something really nice. And it’s nice, surprisingly. You’d think Zoro wouldn’t know what a nice gift was, but he ends up doing well? (might have asked Nami to pick it out for him, but whatever)

•Honestly his sugar baby just needs to start swiping money from him while he’s passed out. He won’t notice

•Zoro pretty much thinks his sex life with his sugar baby should just be a regular thing, not something that requires money in compensation. Like, he’d get a blowjob then be all mad when his sugar baby expects money after he cums. Like uhhh?? Nah?? The fuck do I look like?? Just suck my dick and be happy with it?? My dick is a reward in itself??

•Sometimes Zoro gets his sugar and he won’t give his baby the money and his excuse is something like Uhhhh no remember that thing you did last week? Yeah that was annoying as hell. Just for that, you’re not getting SHIT. He’s such a swindler

•Only way Zoro is 100% going to fulfill his sugar daddy duties is if his sugar baby gives him like… the world’s BEST head. World record head. And then he just kind of… expects it to be like that every time. But then suddenly, they’re not giving him head anymore. And he’s like… why. So then his sugar baby starts charging for that good head and he’s like akjsdhkjfhsdkjahkjshf fine whatever. Then they get that $$$$. Give this man good head and he’ll come around

Doflamingo

•Omgmgmgmgmg. Made to be a sugar daddy, obviously. But he expects the sugar. You have to give him some sugar or else you’re not getting shit. And he’s really unfair about it

•Like, if he feels the sugar wasn’t up to his standards, his sugar baby is only getting a little of what was promised, if any at all. Doffy is a dick like that

•He has so much money but he deals it out sparingly. It’s less because he’s greedy and more because he wants to piss his sugar baby off. Doflamingo just likes riling up his sugar baby ok. He thinks it’s hot

•He does however, really like seeing all the things his baby buys with their sugar baby allowance. It’s fun for Doffy. He wants to see what his money bought. Likes to see his baby show off

•I mean, if you’re not wearing all the jewelry and gucci clothes he got you, then what’s the damn point?

•Sorry but every extra inch of his dick you manage to take gets you like 100,000 more berri. Lord knows no one can take that dick all the way. So he rewards you for at least trying. It’s like a game to him. He’ll urge you take more and more and just coax you with money, especially when he’s getting head

•He doesn’t really care if anyone knows that you’re his sugar baby either. In fact, he encourages that the knowledge get out. Let everyone know he’s a sugar daddy. He’s a king, he can do what he wants

•If his sugar baby goes to try and squeeze some money out of him (they’d probably get all dressed up and put on a bashful demeanor to try and seduce him) he entertains it, but probably sees right through it. And they probably expected that. It’s not easy to entice him. He’ll reward them for trying though. He likes it when they put in the effort

•Are nudes a thing in the One Piece world?? Probably?? Right??? Give him nudes in exchange for some money. He has a collection he likes to keep

Mihawk

•He’s not giving his sugar baby SHIT if they’re acting up. So you gotta be on your best behavior if you’re Mihawk’s sugar baby. He is ruthless with the money. And no amount of sugar will make him give in. You can suck the soul out of his dick better than anyone in the history of dick sucking ever has, but you’re still getting 0 berri if you’ve been annoying him lately

•He doesn’t even think about sugar anyway. Mihawk isn’t going to give his sugar baby money based on how well they pleasure him. Pretty much because it’s not easy to pleasure Mihawk

•So ‘sugar’ for MIhawk is basically his sugar baby’s attitude lmao? If they’ve been good and quiet and not bothersome then he’ll give them some money/treasure he snatched off of some annoying pirates whose ship he destroyed

•If his sugar baby asks for money, he’s gotta know what it’s for. It’s totally annoying. It’s like he’s interrogating them or something. He can never just give them the money

•Probably leaves his sugar baby with a shit load of money when he leaves for a long period of time though. What they do with it, he doesn’t really care. It’s probably the only time he’s ever just handing over some money without being difficult

•Mihawk is just not made to be a sugar daddy lmao. A daddy? Yes. But sugar? Nah. Money isn’t his thing. So a sugar baby wouldn’t be his thing either. It’s likely he’d just have a s/o to whom he gave money to every once in a while, whether it was to help them out, or just to occasionally treat them

•Sugar daddy Mihawk is probably more likely in a modern AU setting, but even then, he’s still pretty bad at it and not entirely fair. Will legitimately freeze all his sugar baby’s assets if he feels they’ve been spending too much. What a dick

Crocodile

•Amazing sugar daddy. Top tier sugar daddy. Sugar daddy of your dreams. He just LOOKS like a sugar daddy I mean come on

•Always keeps up with his sugar baby’s allowance. If you’ve been giving him some good sugar and been a good sugar baby, he rewards you very well. Never misses a payment

•That being said, he’s not really a penny pincher, but he definitely keeps his sugar baby on a strict allowance. They don’t get more than they’ve earned and he doesn’t react well if he finds out they’ve been spending frivolously. He probably tries to give his baby a lesson in humility and teach them how to spend smart… which is weird. They took that dick real good Crocodile just let them spend their money how they want jfc

•He buys his sugar baby a coat like his so they can match… it’s… nice. I mean okay maybe they don’t match exactly but Crocodile is giving his sugar baby that good fur and you know it. They’re wearing nothing but that high end fashion

•Crocodile’s sugar baby will be pampered, but he still needs them to be independent. Not some mooch who just sits around ready to fuck then get paid. Like, sitting in his bed half-naked covered in silk and waiting for him to walk in is hot and all, but he���d like them to be doing something productive. Maybe running parts of his casino, for instance. He needs them to be helping his cause, of course

•And no one messes with his sugar baby either, that’s for sure. Being Crocodile’s sugar baby pretty much means everyone knows about you and you’re treated with high respect. It’s different from just being his s/o, ya feel? Like… you’re Sir Crocodile’s sugar baby. You’re that bitch

•His sugar baby wears a big fancy ring with a fat jewel on top that probably costs more than the entire country’s gdp combined. Probably one of Crocodile’s own rings tbh. He just added a bigger jewel to make it more flashy

•Crocodile is just such a good sugar daddy fuck I’m not over it. Case closed, he wins.

Robin

•She’s a very generous sugar momma, but defnitely makes her sugar baby work for it

•Has her sugar baby give her long foot massages while she relaxes on deck, bring her drinks, stand in front of the sun to provide shade, etc. Mostly though, that’s all just her messing with her sugar baby. She doesn’t usually make them slave away that much, only when she can sense they’re eager to please. In that case, she can’t help but take advantage of it and have a little fun. She laughs at them at the end of the day though, apologizing for making them work so much. She rewards them handsomely

•Also, being rewarded by Robin of course means you’re getting your sugar baby allowance… but she’s so good in bed, you’re honestly getting just as much sugar as she’s getting. So really, if you’re Robin’s sugar baby, you’re getting double the prize. Money and great sex. It’s so great. Please be her sugar baby

•She’s good friends with her sugar baby though. Robin probably couldn’t do a sugar momma-baby relationship with someone she didn’t know very well. It can’t be a completely no strings attached relationship, though she’s not needy at all. If her sugar baby doesn’t have clear romantic feelings for her, that’s fine. But, they should at least have some respect for her as more than just a benefactor, if that makes sense? They need to have a good relationship

•When they’re not in bed fooling around, they should be able to kick back and relax together, or go into town and have a nice dinner (that she pays for, of course) . Little things like that. She wants to enjoy their company, not just their sex, ya feel? And vice versa 

•She remembers all the little deeds (non-sexual) her sugar baby has done for her and will just randomly gift them some money. When they ask why, she just winks and says, “For being a good boy/girl”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #165

“if you’re in danger, i’m here to save ya.”

Do you own a water gun? No. What item most embarrasses you to purchase? I wouldn't really know, I haven't bought much for myself... but I suppose probably some kind of sex toy. Favorite thing you’ve ever painted? Two meerkats grooming. It's on a huge thing of burlap. Are there any songs that remind you of your mother? "Wherever I May Roam" by Metallica, because she aaaalways says she wants the lyrics "my body lies, but still I roam" on her urn. I'm making goddamn sure that happens when she passes. Have you ever picked wild flowers? Yes. Have you ever walked through a forest? Yeah. Have you ever seen a mountain in person? Yes. Do you prefer jam or butter on your biscuits? Jam. Have you ever explored somewhere abandoned? Yes, but I wanna do it morrreee! Take my camera with me! This is exactly why I'm getting into exploration channels on YouTube, finding shit like this. I'm addicted to Sam & Colby because of this. Where is the last place you went to as a tourist? Chicago. What country do you most want to travel to? Germany. Do you have a garden? No. Have you ever kept a physical, hand-written journal? Yeah. Have you ever caught a butterfly in your hands? I know I've picked up injured ones as a kid, dunno about otherwise. Are there any interesting landmarks where you live? Not that I can think of. Which fairytale is your favorite? I'mma throw hands if you say Shrek isn't one. Which mythological deity or creature is your favorite? Dragons. Which type of muffin is your favorite? Chocolate chip. What is your favorite shade of blue? Pastel. Do you prefer iced tea or hot tea? Iced coffee or hot coffee? Hate both. Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream? Nooo, not a fan. Honestly, have you ever crashed a party before? No. Do you know how to do the moon walk? No. What is one of your favorite comedy movies? White Chicks. Has anybody ever told you that you have a good singing voice? Yeah. Onion rings or french fries? The latter. I am /picky/ with onion rings, but usually don't like them. Has anybody ever told you that you talk too fast? I've been told so when I'm hyper. Who is the best cook that you know? I don't know. I guess Jason was? His initial career path was chef, and he was in fact great at it. What’s the largest amount that you can juggle at one time? I can't juggle. What was your favorite thing to go on at the playground as a kid? Swing. Do you know how much you weighed at birth? How much? 7-something pounds? When you do a puzzle do you find all the edges first? Do some people not??? (If you sleep with the tv on) what’s usually on tv when you wake up? N/A Who was the last person to ask you to hang out? Did you agree to hang out with them? Colleen, and no. Have you ever had to take a stool or urine test? Why did you have to do this? I've had way too many UTIs because I used to drink literally zero water, so. Before my surgery, they needed a sample too to ensure I wasn't pregnant. Is there a food that you eat basically every day? What food is that? No. Do you have Oovoo? No. Do you know anyone who has ever been in a movie? Who and what movie were they in? What was their part? No. Do you know anyone who has had salmonella? Did you ever have it yourself? What about e coli? No. When was the last time you brought a pet to the vet? What was wrong with it? Last winter when we had to put Cali down. A tumor on her spleen ruptured and filled her body with so much blood that she almost couldn't breathe as her lungs were running out of room to expand. She also had some kind of mass on her liver that was probably causing more issues. Name something that you used to do with your family that you no longer do with them or at all: Trick-or-treating. Who was the last member of your extended family to visit? Where were they visiting from? Grammy and her husband. They were heading back down to Florida. Have you bought any new clothes in the past week? Nope. At what age do you think you’ll be ready to have children? Never. If I wanted kids, mid-20s/late-20s, probably. How many children would you like? Once more, if, two, or even just one. I'd really want my child to have a sibling at least somewhat near in age, but I don't know if I could handle two. Is there anyone in your friendship group that your parents don’t like? Not anymore. Have your grandparents ever asked you about your love/sex life? No. Have you ever been diagnosed with anything unexpected, mental or physical illness? How did you finally find out? Hm... I think everything I've had was at least somewhat expected. Like, I knew something was wrong. The most surprising though was I suppose inactive MRSA after my surgery and the incision re-opened to heal on its own for seven damn months. ACTUALLY, vertigo was random as hell. I started experiencing it and went to the doc. Where do you like to sit when you’re on the computer? In bed. What is the biggest decision you’ve made in the past year? Return back to school. Would you rather hike through the desert, the prairies, the forest, or the tundra? The prairies. If you could reconnect with someone from your past, who would it be and why? Megan. We were absolute best friends, and hopefully she's grown up by now. What movie/show "emotionally scarred" you as a kid? Courage The Cowardly Dog. Watched it anyway lmao. What’s your favorite flavor of jello? Strawberry, probably. Have you ever been thrown out of the movies? No. What would you do if you found out you were moving to Tennessee? I wouldn't complain, Tennessee is beautiful. My brother lives there anyway, and I haven't seen him in years. What does your favorite hair tie/accessory look like? I don't wear any. Do you have a favorite kind of milk? 2%, whole, etc? 2%, maybe. Do you have a favorite drummer? No. Are there any symbols that have personal meaning to you? i.e: dice, a necklace, etc. What are they? Not off the top of my head. What’s the biggest spider you’ve come across? Writing spiders. Have you ever been bitten by anything venomous? No. Do you know anyone who has been knighted? No. Which Mario game would you say is your favorite? That is, if you even like Mario? I've only really played Mario Kart. The others don't interest me. Do you have a deviantART account? Yes. Have you ever had acne? If not, you’re so lucky. I did through puberty, of course. Mine was rough then. It stopped when I was about 19. Now I just have the occasional blemish or two when I'm on my period. Ever walked into a facility of the opposite gender - like restrooms? I did once in elementary school on a work day (teachers come to get shit done; Mom was an assistant teacher) with my friends lol. Ever lost your car in the parking lot? If so, did you use your car alarm to find it again? Don't have my own car. I don't even know if Mom's ever had a car with an alarm. Has there ever been a Christmas where you had to do without gifts-wise? No. Do you type with capital letters and proper punctuation? So this is super weird: It's actually whatever I find aesthetically pleasing wherever it's being written, as well as what "voice" sounds more appropriate??? But I usually write properly. Honestly, do you think that you’re going to be an overprotective parent? Hypothetically once again, I know I would be. The world's evil. What was the last kind of chips you ate? Hot fries. What is one thing that you really wish you could understand, but don’t? Economics so I could actually know how the fuck to handle money. What brings out the worst in you? Treating me like a child that knows nothing. How many friends do you have that don’t smoke? Idk. There's only one friend I see even rarely, and he doesn't though. Doesn’t it drive you nuts when people think they ‘need’ to have a boyfriend/girlfriend? Yes. You need to learn that you're not an unfinished puzzle. You're complete on your own. Some people were really destructive as a child, were you? No. On average, how many songs do you listen to in a day? This greatly varies. Do you ever buy your pet(s) birthday or Christmas presents? Always. Do you think your current relationship will last forever? No exaggeration, no over-optimistic thinking, yes. One thing you promised yourself you’d never do and then did? Attempt suicide. Are you more scared of going to the doctors or dentists? Doctors. Have you ever rolled off your bed in your sleep? No. Who is the most overrated singer? Uhhh. I dunno. Maybe Ed Sheeran. What is your greatest weakness? I guess how insecure I am. Do you have any pets that you had since you were born? No. Favorite undersea creature? Seahorses. Favorite type of chocolate? Milk. What toys did you play with as a child? Plastic animals, Pokemon figures, Barbies or Bratz if Nicole wanted to, stuffed animals... What types of music do you listen to? Loads of different kinds of metal. I'm finding I'm really getting into indie as well. What, without fail, makes you cry? Mark crying for any reason be it sadness or joy I am pathetic. What makes a movie really enjoyable for you? Well thought-out, interesting plots and charismatic characters. Name a game you are really good at. Shadow of the Colossus. The most childish part of your personality? I can occasionally be a bit of a brat if something I'm serious about doesn't go my way oops. What did you last put on a piece of toast? Butter, cinnamon, and sugar. Have you ever witnessed a serious physical fight? No. Do you enjoy corn on the cob? YES, though my lip ring makes it a pain. Have you ever bought alcohol or cigarettes for someone underage? No. If you use Snapchat, have you ever had a screenshot taken of you? N/A When in a waiting room, how do you pass the time? Mess around on my phone. Usually wander through Pinterest. What was the last brutally honest comment you made about someone? I'm not sure. What is your favorite thing to do with just one friend? Go out to eat and talk. Have you ever been kissed under the mistletoe? By who? Jason may have, but I don't remember. Are you prone to paranoia? YUP. Has anyone ever bought you a ring? Mom and Jason. Accidentally dropped the one Mom gave me down the drain semi-recently, then Jason's broke within a few weeks. Kept the jewel for a while but eventually threw it out. What was the most stressful project you had so far while in school? Jesus, when I was still in a game design class and we had to read the most fucking boring book and then do some analysis shit of it. Who in your family are you closest to? Mom. In your opinion, what is the scariest natural disaster? Earthquakes, maybe. Or tornadoes. What time of the day is the best for you? I'm usually in my best mood in the morning. Do you have an electric toothbrush? No. Have you ever had to board up your windows because of a hurricane? No. What do you think about employers checking on personal sites before hiring employees? Sometimes I actually think it's a good idea, other times no??? Like you can get important details of someone by looking at what they post, but at the same time, social media doesn't always portray someone that well. You can get the wrong idea. Have you ever visited anyone in a rehab? No. Ice in your drink: yes or no? No. Do you prefer getting money, gift cards, or an actual gift on your birthday? Money. When was the last time you got a new bed? Is your bed comfy? Long time ago, and I guess. What was the last job you applied for? Ummm I'm not sure. Oh, I think for newborn photography. Do you have any mild food allergies? No. Who was the last person you were with that smelled REALLY good? My younger sis. Last person to make you seriously mad? Colleen. How is your mom? Stressed, always. Do you like going through old photos and recalling memories? Depends on the picture. And time. What movie coming out are you most excited to see? Why? The live-action The Lion King because it's my favorite movie. What song really gets to your heart and inspires you? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy. Do you see a lot of stray animals around your home? No. Do you have fireflies around where you live, or do you wish you did? In the area, yes, but we don't really see them in my yard much. Did you used to do Easter egg hunts when you were a child? Yes. Have you ever bought anybody a mug? Omg, I found one that said, "Be nice, I'm in control of your happy pills" in this random store once and I HAD to get it for my psychiatrist. He's not supposed to accept presents, so we just pretended it was from mom lol. He has it on his desk. Do you believe in divorce? In cases such as abuse, infidelity, or other pretty serious issues, yes, but I usually don't advise divorce. Communicate like mature adults and fix what you got married for. Who taught you the most valuable lesson in life and what was that lesson? "Deal with the past or the past deals with you," maybe. My Holly Hill teacher taught me a million lessons that greatly affected my outlook on many components to a healthy life. Have you ever fallen into a hole or crevice whilst hiking? While getting to fishing spots with Dad, my foot may have slipped through rocks or something. Have you ever had a serious conversation with your dad? One that I remember. He took me out to lunch one day when I was still struggling with Jason to just talk to me about relationship stuff. I cherish that memory dearly. In YOUR eyes, which of the three is the most dangerous, and which is the least: Marijuana, Alcohol, Cigarettes? Alcohol, then I'm not sure. Marijuana has a lot of dangers people like to ignore, but then again, it has some health benefits while cigs have none. What is the nerdiest thing that you own? Probably the big Illidan poster I have beside my bed lul. What is the preppiest thing that you own? *shrug* If you are popular, have you ever wondered what it would be like to have no friends? What do you think it might be like? I already just about have none, and it's lonely as fuck. If you are a loner, have you ever wondered what it would be like to be popular? What do you think it might be like? No. I don't seek popularity, just not such a lack of company. Every tattoo has a story behind it; if you have any, what are the stories behind yours? My semicolon butterfly is tribute to both the butterfly and semicolon projects. "Ohana" is obvious. "How rare and beautiful it is to even exists" just speaks deeply to me as someone who wanted to die for years. "Perfectly flawed" also means a lot to me and comes from an Otep song of the same name. "You're awful... I love you!" written in Sara's handwriting I adore because we pretty much call each other evil all the damn time all the while loving each other. :') Who do you know that has a particularly funny or annoying laugh? HA ME I HATE IT. Is there anything you do that is annoying to your friends or family? Oh, I'm sure. I'm told all the time by people to make myself at home when I'm at someone else's house standing like a statue, for one. I do this sooo much, even a bit at my sister's house when it comes to wanting a drink or something. My pacing makes people anxious, I'm told constantly. Sure there's more. What is the most number of sodas that you have drank in one day? I. DON'T WANT. TO KNOW. Until two-three months ago, I lived mostly off soda, and I do NOT know how I didn't gain weight from it. Now I absolutely refuse to go past two, but usually only get one. The idea of drinking as much as I did almost makes me nauseous. Have you ever gone through a period of mass weight-gain/weight-loss? What was that time like for you? Well first Paxil made me gain weight, but I quit it and did WiiFit all summer and lost 40 pounds. I was so proud of myself. Then, I was put on Abilify when I had no need to be, and let's not say how much it made me gain because my then-doctor was a fucking idiot that thought I was doing something terribly wrong and kept me on it, not knowing the side effects. :^) My current psychiatrist was lost entirely as to why I'd been prescribed it, and he immediately connected my weight gain to it because it *murders* metabolism. Was taken off it immediately, boom, started to melt weight with no change to my diet for quite a while. I'm still far from my normal weight. I could write a novel on how this was/is for me, but I'll just say I'm bitter as fuck and ~so~ confident in my shit body. (: If you have one, do you and your significant other have a similar taste in music? Yes. Longest plane ride you’ve ever been on? I'm sure to Michigan, but I don't remember how long it was. I was a kid. Favorite kind of bean? I absolutely loathe beans. I can't even swallow them. If you had to move to another country, where would you move? Canada, realistically. I'd love to live in Germany, but that would be much different from where I am now and would require learning an entire new language. I like Canada anyway. Does it bother you when people call you ‘ma'am’ or 'sir?’ No, it's polite...? Did you partake in senior skip days? Yup. Would you ever consider having an abortion? If my life was endangered, yes, and if - God forbid - I was raped, I possibly would because of how scarring that would be. I've said before I think pregnancy would legitimately be traumatic to me, and if it was because of that, I couldn't even begin to imagine. Have you ever lived in an apartment before? I've told the Jason & co. story before. I also stayed with Colleen for at least a month when I was technically homeless, and she was in an apartment then. Have you ever been questioned by the police? No. Have you ever been to an amusement park out of state? Yeah. Have you ever been responsible for someone’s death? Yeesh, no. Do you know a lot about serial killers? No. Have the police ever been looking for you? HAHAHAHA YES. When I went to the beach one time, my sister, a friend, and I went walking along the shore one night and apparently Mom didn't hear us mention it. Freaked the fuck out and called them to find us. Sorry, Mom. Where do you get most of your accessories from? *shrugs* Maybe HotTopic? Do you know how to shoot a gun and hit a target? No. Are you a good listener? It's complicated. I try very hard to be, but even with people I seriously care about, my mind can wander. But I really try. What was the last bad thing to happen to you? Serious, continuous loneliness. The last good thing to happen to you? I guess finding out I don't have hypoglycemia. Do you think today’s youth is being corrupted/messed up because of TV? It depends on what they watch. Some things they of course shouldn't see, but people tend to take it too far. Have your parents supported every decision you’ve made? I'm sure they haven't. Do you like to listen to rock music/screamo music when you’re angry/upset? Lol did you really just group rock and screamo up???? I'm pretty much always listening to metal or rock. I don't like purely screamo. Are you embarrassed to tell your parents you love them around your friends? Not at all. It bothers me immensely when it does bother people. What’s your favorite sappy/romantic song? Shit, I dunno. I'm a sucker for a lot. Do you know anyone who has changed their first name? Not legally, to my knowledge. Which one of your senses would you be the most devastated to lose? Sight. Hearing almost ties it. Have you ever dated someone who posted a ton of selfies on social media? No, but why does that matter??? Do you know anyone who has been on life support, and survived? I don't think so. Do your parents have a strong relationship together? They're divorced. Mom fucking hates Dad, while he's totally over it. When was the last time you attended a religious service of any sort? Well over a year ago. Do you ever feel like you're sharing too much about yourself online? Eh, nah. Are you on good or bad terms with your most recent ex? Good. What was the last necklace you wore? A spiked choker. Have you ever read any of Charles Darwin's works? No. If there was such a thing as a mental health first aid kit, what would you want to be in it? Oh boy. I'd say it'd be personal to each person. Do you think there are more dimensions than what we're able to perceive? Maybe. What was the last carbonated drink you had? I think Mtn. Dew. Does anyone in your family have schizophrenia? Yes, my half-sister. What light in your house was the last to have a bulb burn out? Living room. Have you ever been fired? If so, did you get unemployment benefits? No. Never really worked long enough to be. Do any of your neighbors have loud children? No. Have you ever been in an abandoned house? No, we were too scared to go past the doorway lol. What's your favorite YouTube channel? UM Markiplier????????????????????? Do you go to church? No. If so, what denomination is it?  N/A What is your favorite thing to make wishes on? Just birthday candles. Don't believe that does anything, but. C'mon, you gotta. What is your favorite phase of the moon? Full, duh!! What is your favorite way to get high, if applicable? N/A Which name do you like best: Cora, Flora, Dora, or Laura? Laura. If applicable, what is your favorite version of the Bible to read? N/A Are you contemplating/debating something right now? No. Have you ever had a book completely come unbound from its cover? Childhood books, probs. What design is on your shower curtain? Blue and white waves, I think?? I clearly pay attention to something I see every day. What’s the highest you can count in a different language? To like a million in German. Where would you like to be buried? Cremate me, please. Have you ever seen a ghost orb picture? Quiiite a lot in our old house. Do you think abortion should be illegal? No. Do you know how to double-dutch? I did as a kid. I couldn't jump into it, though.