#take plastic bag out of the trash and wash it

[iicraft505]

i had a very autistic moment about the plastic bag i use to carry my work shoes in today

[crimsonblackrose]

I promised my aunt I’d make tiramisu but forgot pie day coming up and I’ve wanted to make pie for pie day for...years and always miss it. But! I think we have a pie crust (with cigars resting in it for some bizarre reason) in the freezer and this like raw sugar-free book has a pie recipe that I think we’ve got all the ingredients for...so I might be able to do both?

[ckret2]

Chapter 49 of human Bill Cipher being such a miserable prisoner even the Pines are starting to feel bad for him: The Eclipse: Epilogue.

####

"The heck did you do to that poor woman?" Tate asked, staring out the window. Bill was sitting on the pier, legs dangling in the water, staring blankly into the depths. He was still muddy and trembling. "She looks more traumatized than when y'all left."

Ford couldn't meet Tate's gaze under the brim of his hat, but he could feel Tate raising a brow when he spotted Dipper pacing back and forth on the pier behind Bill, muttering furiously.

"We've had a very bad day," Ford said. 

"Uh-huh."

"Could I borrow your phone to call my brother?"

Outside, Dipper was oblivious to everything except the one line he'd managed to remember from the Axolotl, the words he'd picked out as they crossed the lake. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,'" Dipper murmured. He knew that much. It was a poem. It was a rhyme. He couldn't remember the rest. What did it mean? He murmured it over and over to himself as he walked, trying to remember the next line, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,' 'sixty degrees that come in threes'... breeze, freeze, ease, lease, knees—" He couldn't remember the rhyme.

Bill was considering grabbing Dipper by the ankle and dragging him off the pier just to shut him up when whatsisname, the younger McGucket came out of the shop. "Hello there? Miss Goldie?"

Human. Strange human. Human that Bill could get on his side. Be charming. He tried to remember how to be charming. He offered a feeble smile. "Yello?"

"I wanted to make sure you're all right," Tate said. "You look like you, uh... you've had a hard time."

Bill laughed ruefully. "Well, I've been dragged all over the mountain, I'm hungry, exhausted, and half-drowned, and I can barely walk—but I'm not currently dead. Allegedly. I'll take what I can get."

The corners of Tate's mouth twitched down in a concerned frown. "Is there anything you need? A..." He floundered for a moment, "A water, or...?"

"I've had enough water to last me a lifetime." He wondered idly whether he could claim he was too exhausted to make it all the way home—there was a sofa in the staff room, Tate would probably let the poor bedraggled "woman" take a nap, if Bill got that bit of distance between himself and the Pines maybe he could... maybe he could... do something with it? But he couldn't think of anything more definite than that and now Ford was coming back and the window of opportunity closed. He shrugged wearily. "Just need to get back to the shack. Thanks." He half heartedly used the lake water to wash the drying mud off his lower legs and knees.

"Stan will be here in about twenty minutes," Ford said, and tried to ignore the dirty look Tate gave him. 

"I'll be just inside if you need anything else," Tate said. "Watching." He headed inside—and then, indeed, stood at the shop window and watched.

Ford was never going to get on Tate's good side. He suspected Tate would be a little less sympathetic to the poor woman on the pier if he knew who he really was; but it certainly wouldn't make Tate like Ford any better for keeping him around.

"Nothing to do now but wait." Ford unloaded the rest of their supplies from the borrowed motor boat. He dropped Soos's Monster-Mon backpack beside Bill—it was heavy, Bill must have just shoved his clothes and bedsheet straight in without bothering to wring out the water—and the plastic bag of snacks Dipper had bought. "You ought to eat more while we wait." Ford nudged the snack bag.

Bill sneered at it. "I don't want that trash."

"What?" Ford examined the bag's contents. Jerky, chips, candy, cups of marshmallow cereal... "This is ninety percent of what you eat."

"Ninety percent of what I eat is what I can scavenge from the counters."

Ford looked through the bag again. Ah. Right. So it was. "If you want something else, you know you can ask us to..."

"Mac and cheese."

Maybe Ford had better stop talking. He sighed and glanced at Dipper to see how he was doing.

It didn't look like Dipper had even registered Ford's return, too busy pacing and muttering to himself. Ford frowned. "Dipper?"

"Axolotl," Bill explained. "He's obsessing over him. Didn't I tell you that meeting that thing would drive him insane?" He tilted his head toward Dipper. "Look at that, he's already mumbling to himself. Don't suppose you have his therapist's number, do you? I doubt that would save him, but it might slow the process—"

Ford shushed him.

Dipper had briefly tuned back into the conversation when he heard Bill say Axolotl; and now he grit his teeth and stubbornly tuned it back out. No. He was not going insane. Dipper would figure this out. If he just remembered the rest he'd be fine. He tried to go through all the potential rhymes alphabetically, "—bees, cease, d—deez?" That wasn't a word. "Fees, geese, he's..." and on and on, "seas, tees, uh... vees? Wheeze..."

"I've had enough of you trying to convince that boy he's about to go mad," Ford muttered to Bill. "What do you get out of saying that? Even if you do convince him he's insane, it won't make him start trusting anything else you say."

"I'm not lying," Bill said heatedly. "You ought to know that, you've been in the multiverse, you've seen plenty of maddening sights. You saw them before you even left the Nightmare Realm."

Ford hesitated before responding; was Bill trying to persuade Ford he was insane? But he could still remember those first few moments of terror in the Nightmare Realm: the creatures that had seemed to move and shift in impossible ways as they swam in and out of dimensions Ford couldn't see, the lights and colors that throbbed like an inverted migraine, Bill himself seemingly suspended a million light years away and a foot in front of Ford's face at the same time. Until Ford had latched onto his quest to destroy Bill and let that focus him, his mind had felt like an unraveling sock. "You were chief among those maddening sights."

"I was," Bill acknowledged neutrally.

"But I didn't go insane."

"Because you knew when to look away." He cast a sideways glance at Dipper, an implicit unlike him. "I know you used to read cosmic horror. Do you know why the narrator always goes mad just from looking at some giant beast? It's not because it's too ugly to take. It's because once you meet something, you try to understand it; but if you want to understand the reality something like that comes from," he rolled an eye up toward where the invisible Axolotl had hung in the sky, "you have to lose your understanding of your own reality. They're incompatible. Like the lunatics who escaped Plato's cave and came back ranting about nonsense like sunlight and colors."

It was a twisted interpretation of the cave allegory. Plato had meant it as a metaphor for education: that learning about the true nature of reality was enlightening, but alienated you from your peers.

Perhaps to Bill, enlightenment and insanity were the same thing.

Ford murmured, "Once your eyes have been too dazzled by the sunlight to see the dim shadows, you'll never be awed by a candle again."

"You have been there before."

Ford didn't answer.

"Once you've seen something like that, if you let yourself dwell on the significance of it all, you're doomed. Better to tell yourself it's unimportant and try to forget it ever happened."

Ford thought of Fiddleford.

Bill twisted around to snap tiredly at Dipper, "So stop staring at the sun before you go blind, moron."

"Shut up." Dipper had been trying to mentally drown out Bill's dire predictions by grasping for more rhymes—"disease, unease, Socrates"—but enough filtered through to make his stomach churn with nervousness. What if Bill was right? What if he never remembered what the Axolotl told him—what if he drove himself mad trying? What if this turned into a lifelong obsession—but he'd be fine and could let it go once he remembered—was that the trap? Was whatever it had told him impossible for a human to remember? Was it something so incomprehensible a human couldn't remember it without going crazy?

But he'd seen plenty of stuff last summer that was supposed to make humans go "insane." Bill had to be messing with him. He remembered the first line—surely that meant he could remember the rest—but was that part of the trap? "'Sixty degrees that come in threes'... come on, there's something else, I know it, what is it? 'Sixty degrees that come in threes'—"

Bill sighed irritably. "'Watches through the eyes in trees.'"

Dipper stopped pacing. He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice enough to be audible. "What?"

"What?" Bill said.

"What's the rest of it?"

"What rest of it? It's a couplet. That's all," Bill said. "Is that what he told you? He gets rhymey when he feels self-important, it's no big deal. Maybe you're lucky. Put it out of your head and you'll be fine."

Dipper turned the words over in his head. Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches through the eyes in trees... "That's not exactly right," he said slowly. "It was 'watches from within birch trees.'"

"Is that how he translated it? I've never heard it in English before. I got close, though, I knew it'd rhyme."

Ford echoed, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes.' Like a triangle?"

Dipper gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"You're taking geometry next year, aren't you? The inner angles of polygons always have the same number of degrees; and a triangle has a hundred and eighty degrees. Three angles of sixty degrees forms... an equilateral triangle."

Dipper and Ford stared at Bill.

Bill gave them a tired, unreadable look. "What?" he said. "Don't look at me. I'm not the only equilateral triangle in the universe."

Well, now Dipper was sure there was more to the poem than just a couplet. "How many other equilateral triangles spy on people through birch trees?"

"Lay off," Bill said crabbily. "I didn't have to tell you that line. Don't make me regret it." He planted his elbows on his knees, laced his hands together, pressed his forehead to them, and massaged his eyelids with his thumbs.

He tilted slightly to the right, keeping the weight of his head off his left arm.

####

"Nice shirt," Stan said, eyeing Ford's anger management t-shirt.

"If you like it, you can have it."

"What happened to your coat?"

"Somewhere at the bottom of the lake," Ford sighed.

"How...?"

"I'll fill you in later."

Bill's trembling was almost unnoticeable by the time Stan arrived. Or, at least, it was slight enough that he could stand and make the short walk from the pier to the car without an obvious struggle. 

He climbed into the back seat, slid across the bench, leaned against the door, wrapped his arms around his Monster-Mon backpack, fell asleep, and didn't wake up for the entire drive home.

Dipper and Ford fell silent when they noticed; and, sensing the heavy atmosphere, Stan followed suit.

####

The event organizers for Higher Dimensional Gate had arranged for the Magister Mentium's audience to surround him in a circle with as large a circumference as possible, so that as many shapes as possible could pack into the first few rows where they could see him. Even so, the crowd was much too large for everyone to be in the first few rows. Speakers had to be planted throughout the crowd so that they'd all be able to hear the Magister speak. Most of his audience couldn't see him.

But he, with his all-seeing eye, could see all of them.

The crowd extended back, row after row after row, in every direction like flecks of multicolor confetti filling the air all the way to the horizon. He'd never spoken to such a large crowd before. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a large crowd before.

Not all of them were his worshipers. He didn't have that many worshipers. The rest were drawn in by his boast—to be the first shape outside of legends to predict an eclipse, over six months ahead of schedule. They were here for a spectacle. He meant to give them one.

If he succeeded, all these spectators would become his worshipers, he was sure of it. If he didn't succeed, he lost everything. The whole nation knew about his bet. He'd be financially ruined. His worshipers would abandon him. There would be no fleeing to a new town and starting over; everyone everywhere knew who he was. His life would be over.

This would be only the third eclipse he could recall. There's no way to neatly map shape ages onto human ages. Different year lengths, different aging speeds, different mental and physical milestones. But approximately, compared to a human, he was scarcely over fifteen years old. 

But he wouldn't fail. He pushed all his fears aside. He didn't even want to think about them. He wouldn't, because he couldn't, because he could see what nobody else saw. He could see the eclipse's approach.

It was traveling across the vast empty gulf outside the world.

The only other third dimensional objects he'd ever seen were the sun—which looked to him like a circle—and the stars—which seemed to be mere points. He assumed all third dimensional objects were fundamentally just second dimensional objects, moving on a strange plane. He had no capacity to model a 3D object in his mind.

But the eclipse was a beast that twirled and gyrated around impossible axes, moving and rotating in ways his eye couldn't even comprehend. To him, it looked as though the living creature—he assumed it was a living creature, sometimes it manifested a couple of limbs or an eye—was constantly shapeshifting, its perimeter moving and altering. Its uncanny undulations had haunted his nightmares for months after he first watched it, so young he'd barely started school. It wasn't any less nightmarish now.

But as incomprehensible and terrifying as it was, he could see it, and nobody else here could, and that was all that mattered. He could watch it on the horizon and publicly announce that it would cross the sun in two weeks—and then in about three days—and then, to his humiliation, not tomorrow but today, guaranteed, as the creature sped up and threw off his estimate. His worshipers and bemused spectators had taken over the square to while away the time. They'd quickly gathered around him to wait after he'd declared it would arrive within the hour

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The stupid thing had slowed down.

The triangle was terrified.

In every direction, shapes were staring at him. Waiting. His father was watching him—his stare seemed to grow heavier by the minute. He could see reporters in the crowd taking notes.

He had to fight not to pace, not to cringe, not to show any nerves in front of the hundreds of eyes.

Now. It had to be now. It was so close. Please don't let him be wrong. Every cord in his body quivered in terror as he grabbed his microphone and announced: "Lines, bis, tris—quads, quints, and more! My dear students and beloved believers, and my—" he cut off the urge to say something nastier, "—curious visitors, who I hope will join our quest for enlightenment. This is the moment you've been waiting for! The eclipse is upon us! In less than a minute, it will begin!" He had to keep his gaze forward as he spoke, looking at his audience. (His mother had always said the way his eye went white when he was looking at the third dimension unnerved people.) "Soon—you won't have to take all my claims about the third dimension on faith. You'll be able to see for yourself the effect of the third dimension on the plane."

The crowd murmured excitedly. He could see his father relax. He stared up-but-not-north, gnawing nervously on his eyelid until he caught himself. The beast above glowed a warm pink in the light of the nearby sun.

And the stupid thing. Slowed. Again.

He stared in disbelief.

"Sixty seconds," his father whispered, out of range of the microphone.

His stomach flopped. He was dead.

"One minute, fifteen seconds. What's going—?"

He held his microphone away and hissed, "The eclipse decided to zigzag."

"Eclipses can zigzag?"

"Shhh!" He'd already failed. He'd already shown everyone he was wrong. He could hear the murmurs. His eye hurt from staring at the sun and from straining for so long to turn so far upward-not-northward, go faster faster faster—

There! The snout of the eclipse was this close to kissing the perimeter of the sun. He cried triumphantly, "Now!"

The wretched beast did a loop-the-loop around the sun and missed it entirely.

The triangle felt the last strands of his fraying self-composure snap.

He howled in rage.

He could hear laughs from the crowd. They felt like daggers in his sides.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He was bellowing into outer space as if he thought it might hear him, "Do your think this is a game?! Is this funny?! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of the whole world!" His father put a hand on his arm; the triangle shoved him away. "Get back here right now! You thick, brainless, blobby, pink, feeler-faced two-eyed freak of nature! GET BACK HERE and LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" He was a lunatic, everyone would know it, their leader raving in a direction no one could actually see about some big pink delusion, what did he care, no one would ever take him seriously again anyway—

And the thing in the sky.

Stopped.

And looped back.

And came closer, and closer, and bigger, and bigger—it just kept getting bigger, how far away had it been before, how large was it, how large was the sun?

He hardly noticed the crowd's gasp as the creature twirled between them and the sun—the light shone through its body, pink with blood—and then out of the way, and then in again, and out—until finally it was so close that its perimeter completely engulfed the sun. He'd taken a field trip to the planet's surface once—an enormous solid mass of stone and crystal. Until now, he'd never seen another solid objects so large. To his limited understanding of 3D objects, it looked as though there were no organs inside its perimeter—just a layer of solid, uninterrupted flesh. He didn't know how it could even move.

It stopped straight over him.

He was sure the two black circles embedded inside its body must be its eyes. His whole life he'd heard psychic powers—psychic powers like his own—described as having an "inner eye." But he'd thought the phrase was just a metaphor. An eye on the inside of a body instead of on its perimeter would be useless to most people. He'd never seen a creature with an eye literally on the inside of its body. But the eclipse had two.

And they were looking at him.

A giant ever-shapeshifting cosmic horror from outside of reality, staring through the veil separating the sane world from outerplanar space, and it was looking—at—him.

He was terrified.

He heard an alien voice in his head, vast and deep and slow as distant whale song:

"Hello there!" It was overjoyed. It was tickled pink. "I've never been spoken to by a shape on the wall before. I didn't know you could see off of it!"

Weakly, the triangle repeated, "'A shape on the'...?"

"Yes, this wall of yours." The eclipse gestured with its tail at—everything. A single sweep that took in an entire dimension. "I've probably commuted past this wall billions of times, and nothing's ever called to me before. I didn't know shadows could do that!"

"'Shadows'?" the triangle echoed again. That was all they were? An eclipse's shadows?

"I'm absolutely delighted," the eclipse said. "First contact from a lower-dimensional species! I've watched you for eons and never imagined. Isn't this exciting! How charming of you! Tell me who you are."

Him? "Me?"

"Of course. Who else?" It stared at him. Only him. A shapeshifting force of nature the size of a planet with two inner eyes, an eclipse that saw him as a shadow—and it was looking only at him.

Weakly, he said, "I'm... the Magister Mentium."

The eclipse thought that over. Its tone was a tad dubious and not terribly impressed (why should it be impressed? he was embarrassed at himself for giving his silly puffed-up title)—but it said, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I am the Axolotl. It's been a pleasure meeting you." It began to shapeshift again—its eyes slid sideways through its body, until one reached its perimeter and disappeared.

It dawned on the triangle, in its first immature understanding of third dimensional objects, that its eye had disappeared because the Axolotl was turning away. "Wait!" he cried. "Why..." Why answer him? Why focused on him so completely, if he was just a shadow? Why ask who he was like he mattered? He didn't even know how to put those questions to words in his own mind, much less out loud. "Why are you here so early?"

The Axolotl turned back to the triangle. "Oh! I had to go back for some documents I forgot at the office. Big case in the morning," it said. "You shadows know my schedule?"

"You... pass in front of the sun."

The Axolotl turned away, eyes disappearing and frills fluttering, to look at the sun. "So I do! How funny." It turned toward the triangle and gave him a strange, grotesque look that—by the tone of its psychic voice—he suspected was a smile. "I must get going. I'll be heading into the office a few hours late tomorrow, but perhaps I'll see you again then." And it turned away. It felt like it took forever for the enormous body to sail over-not-north-of the triangle—and pass, at last, out of the sun's path.

The triangle didn't look down-but-not-south until someone shook his side—his father. He lowered his dazed gaze to the crowd—the cheering, applauding crowd. Ma-gi-ster, Ma-gi-ster. A sea of multicolor confetti shapes that filled the air to the horizon.

Shadows.

His father shook him again—"Go on, say something. They're waiting"—and the triangle held up his mic as though he were in a dream. He tried to remember what he was supposed to say. "I was right," he said flatly. "Just like I always told you. I can see the third dimension. The realm of dreams—of colors, of light, and..." The lies left a sick taste in the back of his eye. He couldn't say them. Points of light in darkness and pink nightmares.

"I'm s— You'll all have to excuse me," he said, his voice childish and small. "I can't—I've had a... a... profound... spiritual experience. I must meditate on the revelations I've received." The words felt like woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. "The next eclipse will be a few months after the new year." It seemed important, for some reason, to pass that information on. Wasn't that what he always said he did? Share the wisdom of third dimensional spirits with his followers? "I... have to go now."

His father took his elbow. "This is your moment," he whispered. "Come on, son—you don't want to lose your chance to speak directly to them, do you?"

He shoved the microphone in his father's side. "You speak to them."

"But—"

"I can't," he said. "I can't."

He cut through the crowd as fast as it would part for him—if they were any slower, he'd have started stabbing his way through—haunted the whole way by their applause.

####

And that was it.

From the Axolotl's perspective, he had just had a brief pleasant exchange with a precocious tadpole in a sidewalk puddle.

From the triangle's perspective, he might as well have been standing on the boat deck watching as Cthulhu rose from his millennia of dead slumber at the bottom of the ocean, turned to the fragile vessel bobbing on the waves, and said, "Good morning! Glorious weather we're having, isn't it?"

And from the perspective of the Higher Dimensional Gate, their Magister Mentium had predicted an eclipse, been rightfully insulted when it didn't come the exact second he ordered it, and furiously summoned down an eclipse darker and swifter and longer than any in recorded history.

Up until then, he had been seen as, at best, an oracle. A prophet. A messenger to share the secrets of the third dimension, but that was all he could do. But now, he had commanded forces in an unseen dimension, creating an eclipse months before it was natural. He had made it flicker on and off like he had his finger on the sun's light switch. News reports and the most unimpeachable scientific authorities reported that the eclipse had centered on the location of the Higher Dimensional Gate rally, narrowed down to an inexplicably small radius around that point, and then remained unchanged for several long minutes, long enough for anyone in its shadow to grow fatigued from the missing sunshine. Nothing like that had ever happened before. It defied every known fact about the science of eclipses.

People around the gathering—even people who had known nothing about the Higher Dimensional Gate rally—reported that during the eclipse, they'd become inexplicably disoriented, unable to tell compass directions, and had felt themselves fall toward the darkness—as if gravity's pull had suddenly moved from the south to the epicenter of the eclipse. Public building inspections confirmed that somehow the entire town had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to the epicenter. Closer to the Magister.

Never mind prophecy; as far as the Magister's rapidly-increasing followers were concerned, he might have been a god.

It was the greatest triumph a baby cult leader could ask for.

He barely noticed.

####

For days, he could hardly sleep, speak, or think. He kept losing track of conversations to stare into space. Now, it awed his followers when his eye turned an empty white—he must have been communing with something in a higher dimension.

He didn't argue. It was better than letting them know he was losing his mind.

He spent his time alone locked in his room, pacing back and forth, trying not to look up-but-not-north and failing. Dwelling on the significance of it all. Feeling like he'd never figure it out.

He used to love cosmic horror stories, back when he had time to read. They followed a reliable pattern: the hero travels farther than any rational shape ever should, meets something big, and goes mad from the realization.

And what was it that the hero always realized? That he was a dust fleck in the firmament. That he was insignificant. That he didn't matter. That there were things out there he'd never seen before and would never truly understand, and that they cared not for mere shadows on the wall like him, and that in the grand scheme of the cosmos he was nothing. That he was utterly unimportant.

In moments of what felt like lucidity in between the shivering horror, the triangle  wryly acknowledged that it was no surprise he'd ended up in a cosmic horror story. He could see into another dimension. In the stories he'd read, that made it all but inevitable.

But all the authors had gotten the maddening revelation wrong. He could have handled knowing he was nothing. It almost would have been a relief. 

True horror was knowing he mattered.

He'd spent the majority of his young life selling the idea that he was oh-so-important, as part of a big con to trick gullible idiots into liking him and flinging cash at his rotten undeserving family—and he'd only been able to do it because when the guilt got to him, when his conscience asked what would become of the shapes forking over their life savings on false promises of divine secrets, he could look out into bleak black space and tell himself that nothing really mattered, nothing was important, nothing he'd ever do would really make a difference, and the people he manipulated didn't matter any more than he did. He meant everything to his worshipers, and nothing to the universe. He could do anything and it didn't matter.

For a moment, a vast mind-melting shape-shifting incomprehensible eldritch god had focused its full attention on him—of all the universe, of all the dimensions beyond the known universe, it had looked at him and only him—a mere shadow on the wall, and yet in that moment, it found him interesting. It found him worthy of notice. He had screamed into the cold uncaring void, and the void had cared. For a moment, he'd held cosmic importance. He mattered. His actions mattered.

He'd felt it see him as important, but why? What was so important about him? There had to have been something significant he'd done, something he showed it, something in what he said. He replayed their conversation in his mind over and over and over and over, trying to remember what he'd done that proved he mattered.

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't find it. All he could remember was just... being.

The writers were wrong. Cosmic horror wasn't when an elder god's eyes slid past you without noticing you existed. It was when the elder god gazed down at you at your lowest and bleakest, during your most petty and selfish act of mass swindling, from a dimension where not even slamming the door and shutting your eye could shield you from its gaze—and it decided you were worth caring about. Cosmic horror was when you encountered a colossal alien that planted the incomprehensibly alien idea in your head that you had an inherent worth just because you existed. Cosmic horror was when a force of nature asked the name of a shadow on the wall.

If it was true... if it all mattered... then what was he doing? How could he? What had he done?

####

He was lucky—he was lucky that his parents had raised him to think so clearly about issues like morality and money and easy marks. His only saving grace was that he was too rational to seriously entertain the Axolotl's mad ideas.

And yet, his mind boiled with mad regret. It blazed with insane guilt. The heat of it could burn him out. It was months before he could continue his public sermons without feeling sick—and even once he did, he could still feel the delusion that what he did mattered, festering in his mind.

It would fester for the next trillion years.

####

(And that concludes this plot arc! I hope y'all enjoyed it!! I'd love to hear what y'all thought of the whole thing—especially now that we've looped back to the original eclipse. 😁)

[notmyneighbor]

Back Alley - Doppelgänger Francis Mosses x Female Reader

Word Count 5k

Rating Explicit

CW - minor blood/injury, fluff and smut

Also available on AO3

The end of your shift. The quiet part of the evening.

Nestled downtown in the oldest part of the city, the diner you’re employed at as a waitress caters to DDD members and civilians alike. The final patrons have already filed out the front entrance, a pair of glass front doors with shiny chrome handles. You begin the process of closing the establishment for the evening, starting with a final wipe down of all the surfaces in the dining area while the young man that washes dishes works his way through the last batch of soiled utensils and plates and cups. You count the money in the register and gather the receipts, placing everything on the owner’s desk in the tiny office in back of the restaurant.

The adolescent has finished the washing in the kitchen and finds you putting leftover food scraps onto a plate, a snack for the stray cats that dwell in the alley behind the diner. He rocks on his heels, the apron he’d been wearing already removed and now anxiously wrung between his hands. “Did you want me to wait, or…”

You smile softly. “No, that’s alright. I’m just going to set this out and bring out the trash and I’ll be locking up. Go on home. Be safe.”

Needing no further encouragement, the youth darts from the kitchen. You shake your head ruefully, gathering the ends of the plastic bag in the kitchen’s rubbish bin together and knotting them. Balancing trash in one hand and the plate in the other, you manage to open the heavy steel door at the rear of the diner that leads to the alley.

Normally there are several strays to greet you as soon as you open the door, accustomed as they are to this nightly routine.

Tonight it takes you several moments to locate one solitary form after you’ve lobbed the bag into the dumpster and closed the lid, retrieving the plate you’d set by the back door.

You spy one of your usual clients hovering near the stockade fence further down the narrow passageway, a raggedy looking gray tabby with a torn ear that’s normally the friendliest of the bunch.

“Hey there. What’s wrong, you’re not hungry?” You walk forward a couple of steps, crouching down and holding out your empty hand, making little affectionate sounds to lure the animal closer.

In the distance you hear voices shouting. Not uncommon in the city, but you’re still wary as you straighten, leaving the plate on the ground.

The cat, still hunched by the fence, issues a warning growl.

You turn and see a shape moving from the opposite end of the alley where it divides into the main road, the hair on your bare forearms rising, the skin goose pimpling.

You whirl around, already making for the open door at your back, that slice of light inside a beacon that’s frustratingly so close and yet so far.

You don’t quite make it.

A hand reaches the door before you do, slamming it shut. It becomes a wall at your back as you shrink against it, recoiling from whatever just closed it.

No, not whatever. The strays knew what it was. Now you know, too.

A doppelgänger.

This one dressed in the uniform of a milkman, though his outfit had seen better days. Spattered with blood, you cannot find a single patch of the white shirt that doesn’t bear some trace of scarlet droplets. Shouting again in the distance, though this time it sounds closer.

You open your mouth to yell for help and a hand instantly clamps down over it. The doppel is breathing heavily. It must be the DDD pursuing him. Without the light of the diner’s interior, you can’t see much of the creature’s replicated features in the night shrouded alley. You wonder why he hasn’t killed you yet, your heart hammering like mad.

“I’m not going to hurt you. If you help me, I’ll do something for you in return.”

He was trying to bargain? Bad idea. Doppelgängers were notorious liars. By definition of their very existence they had to be masters of deceit. He must have been desperate if he was making this offer. Definitely being chased by the disposal team officers, the likely source of the shouting you’ve been hearing, the details of the situation coming together in your mind.

You can’t imagine a single thing the invader could offer you that you’d desire.

“I’m going to remove my hand. We’re going to go inside. You’re not going to make a sound. Agreed? Nod if you understand me.”

Wide eyed, nostrils flaring, you move your head, signaling your acceptance of his terms. What choice did you have?

The barrier over your mouth lifts and you’re pushed aside, firmly but without malice, the heavy door wrenched open. You’re shoved inside and the door is quickly shut again.

“Is the front door locked? Lights off?”

You nod, swallowing past a panicked lump in your throat as you take a couple of steps back away from the intruder.

The male copycat sighs, shoulders visibly sagging with relief.

He’s still hiding.

Still wearing the visage of the human he’d duplicated, a tired looking brunette male probably in his early thirties with tousled chestnut hair, shadowed under eyes, a long nose with the slightest bump along the bridge—an old injury that had never healed quite right, perhaps—set above thin lips.

The arm that’s been tucked tightly against his side the entire time, never once in use to restrain you or open the door, you realize, now lifts, exposing a gash across his lower abdomen, rent right through the fabric and severing the flesh beneath.

You’d incorrectly assumed the blood had been from a struggle with the original milkman he’d replicated, not from the alien himself. You suck in a deep breath, wincing as your eyes linger on the injury. “What happened?”

“Got cut jumping the fence.”

“That’s going to need stitches,” you observe as he drags the shirt’s hem free of his belted pants, hurriedly thumbing the buttons open and shrugging out of the garment, thrusting it into the garbage bin you hurriedly point to. The undershirt is similarly stained, but this he leaves in place, merely lifting the edge to better expose the wound.

His eyes meet yours. “Can you do it?”

“I mean, I’m not a physician. All I have is the sewing kit I keep in my purse to mend tears in an emergency. You need to see a doctor, go to the hospital…” Your voice trails off. Of course he couldn’t. He’d be killed instantly.

“Get it.”

You hesitate. Were you really going to risk helping this foreigner?

“Please,” he adds through gritted teeth. Perspiration beads his forehead. You wonder if he hasn’t already been exposed to something that would prove infectious later on. Not really your concern, though. You just needed to survive until you could get away from him. Somehow.

“Alright.” You don’t spare any more time debating about what the right course of action is. You grab one of the clean dish rags from under the kitchen sink and your purse stashed in the bottom desk drawer in the office.

The doppelgänger’s eyes remained fixed on your every movement, watching as you soak the wash cloth in warm water and pull the sewing kit from your purse, the fingers threading the needle shaking. You drag one of the chairs from the dining room for him to sit on, kneeling on the linoleum beside his seated form.

You hesitate again. You really didn’t have the appropriate kind of materials for this. Should you have heated the needle to try to sterilize it first? Was there even time for that? Would it be easier just to attempt to cauterize the area? Somehow you don’t think the invader would be keen on the idea of getting burned, even if the intention was to aid and not harm. “I don’t know that this is going to work, but I’ll do my best. This is going to hurt,” you caution.

“Worse than being cut open?” He asks bitterly.

“No, I suppose not.” You begin washing around the cut, scrubbing at the dried blood, trying to clean the edges of the laceration. It’s still weeping blood but the flow has slowed, the body’s natural clotting process coming into effect. The milkman he’s replicated is on the leaner side, with little softness in the abdomen you’re cleansing. “Why can’t you just replicate the skin again? Make it intact?”

“It doesn’t work like that. It’s penetrated through the outer layer. You humans are so fragile. It doesn’t take much to tear through…” He lets that thought remain unfinished.

You shiver, thinking of how, were circumstances different, he would’ve torn you to shreds without a second thought, murdering you at best, devouring you at worst. You can’t help but wonder if the doppel will turn on you once you finished patching him up.

“Okay, I’m going to try to start sewing.” Your heart is still thudding rapidly. Your eyes narrow in concentration as you pierce the skin, hurriedly seeking the adjacent flesh to sling the thread between, then drawing it taut. You’re feeling a little nauseous and lightheaded. You tell yourself you’re not piecing a person back together. Urging yourself to pretend it was something else. Mending a torn shirt. A ripped stuffed animal. Anything but the gruesome sight before you.

At last the task is completed, the pale skin sutured together. You sit back on your heels, heaving a raspy sigh, your hands clasped tightly together in your lap, willing them to stop trembling.

“You’re skilled,” the doppelgänger murmurs, looking over your handiwork, probing the closed incision gingerly. It is a rather impressive job if you’re being honest, a neat line of even stitches despite your shaking hands.

“You’ll need to keep this clean so it doesn’t get infected. And you can’t move around too much. I don’t know how well that thread will hold.” You gently push his questing digits away, applying gauze and tape from the first aid kit in the office to cover the wound and he eases the ripped undershirt back down.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes meet his. You’ve never heard of an invader asking a human for help. Being grateful. You don’t know what to make of it.

“I won’t forget this.”

You rise, tossing the used wash cloth in the trash and returning your sewing kit to the depths of your handbag. You return the chair to the dining room once he’s slid from it, watching as you settle your purse strap on your shoulder, keys to the diner in hand. The replicant opens the back door a crack, peeking outside, head cocked slightly, listening. No shouting. The DDD had passed through the area. He glances back at you a final time before slipping through the gap.

You lock the door behind him, then sag against it, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’d let you live, as promised. A doppelgänger that kept his word.

What did it mean?

***

He’s in the alley again.

You tell yourself you weren’t looking for the milkman’s clone every night for the last three shifts, merely taking out the garbage and feeding the strays per usual.

Your stomach does a little somersault as he approaches. His skin color is better, no longer so ghostly pale. The milkman uniform he’s wearing looks clean and crisp and starched. Where had he gotten it? Was he keeping a low profile, pretending to be the human he’s dressed as? There certainly seemed to be some transfer of knowledge that occurred when the replicants adopted a human form, intelligence information that surpasses beyond what could be obtained through just casual observation. The doppels knew so much about humans, and humans still knew so little about the invaders, what should have been a home field advantage hampered by the persistence of these alien visitors.

“How are you?” You greet him cautiously.

“Healing well. You did a fine job.”

What should you say to that? You’re glad you helped the enemy? You shudder to think what would happen if anyone ever found that out.

The doppelgänger steps closer. “Are you going to invite me inside?”

As if he was a vampire, seeking permission to grant entrance. You can’t imagine what he wants from you now.

Still, you push the door open wider. He eases past you, his body lightly brushing yours.

“What do you have to eat?”

“Um…” As far as you knew, the invaders only ate human flesh. “What…what did you want? I haven’t cleared out the displays yet. There’s pie, donuts from the morning, though those are probably stale by now. I can make you a sandwich, or…”

He follows you into the dining room as you list the possible offerings, reaching for one of the chocolate iced pastries tucked under the nearest glass dome. He takes an experimental bite and his mouth turns down in disgust at the flavor.

“I warned you they’d be stale.”

“It’s not that. It’s the sweetness. Overwhelming. We’re primarily carnivores.”

“Is turkey okay? Or maybe ham? I don’t know what to offer you.”

He tips his head to one side, considering. “Cow?”

“Yes, we have ground beef.”

“That would be preferable.”

“You just want it…raw?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” There are a couple of defrosted packages in the fridge. You resolve to put some of your tip money towards the meal. You don’t like the idea of stealing from the restaurant.

It feels weird just handing him the styrofoam tray, but also silly to dump the mass of pink pulverized meat onto a plate. You refuse to watch him eat, studying one of the laminated menus resting on the counter intently, unfortunately catching a glimpse of him licking the traces of blood lingering at the bottom of the package when you dare to glance over at him.

“I’m aware this adds to the debt I owe you,” he says.

You discard the tray and fold your arms across your chest, trying to exude more confidence than you felt. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

A slight frown appears as the creature processes the phrase.

“It means adding it to the list of things you already owe that you intend to repay.”

“Ah. Yes, that.” He watches you finish cleaning up after his grim repast, wiping the counter down a final time before accompanying you to the front door and waiting as you lock the entrance from the outside, tugging on the chrome handles to make sure they’ve been secured properly. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yes,” you answer, suddenly wary.

“This is not a very safe part of town for humans,” he muses.

Is anywhere safe anymore?

“Is your living space guarded by the DDD?”

“Not internally. There’s just the street patrol.”

“I’ll accompany you as far as your destination, then.”

“You don’t have to.”

The doppelgänger insists, now walking beside you. It feels unwise to allow the invader to see where you live, but then again, had he done anything to harm you thus far? Surely there had been opportunity if that was his main goal. What was his main goal? What did he want, if not to consume, to take over control of the planet like his brethren?

“You’re not like the others,” you murmur your thoughts out loud, feeling the mimic’s eyes flick in your direction.

“Do you know many doppels?” He sounds bemused.

“No,” you reply, stepping over a broken bottle littering the pavement.

“Is every human the same?”

“Of course not.”

“So why should we be any different?”

“I guess you’re right,” you concede.

You’ve reach the end of the street you’re traveling on and take a right, leading the invader onward into another back alley. You’ve barely taken a few paces before the sound of heavy footsteps alerts you to someone else’s presence.

“Disposal team.” You hear the disgust and fear in your companion’s tone as he tenses, jerking to a halt. The sounds are getting louder as the guards draw closer. “Play along. They won’t be suspicious if they see a couple.”

Suddenly you’re pushed against the wall, so abruptly the air leaves your lungs, your next desperate intake of oxygen interrupted when the doppel’s mouth covers yours.

You feel you stomach do that little somersault motion again. His tongue finds the inside of your mouth. He tastes slightly metallic. The movements are inexperienced, clumsy. Imitating something he’s seen. The teeth that nip your bottom lip are sharp.

“Hey! You there! What’s going…” The DDD officer halts, the beam of the flashlight illuminating what appears as your lover pinning you against the wall, caught up in a moment of passion. You don’t even have to fake the look of embarrassment as your eyes shyly meet the guard’s, the doppel’s mouth sliding from yours.

“Sorry, sir. Just picked my girl up from work and I couldn’t wait.” He offers a sheepish grin that looks extremely convincing.

The DDD member’s partner draws even with his cohort, the gun in his hand lowering, looking over the pastel yellow dress you’re wearing.

“I know you. You work over at the diner.”

You nod frantically.

“You should get on home. It isn’t safe out here. Even with your man with you. Especially not down the side streets.”

“Sorry, that was my idea. My feet are killing me and I just wanted to get home faster.” You pause, reaching for your purse still slung over your shoulder. “Did you want to see our IDs?”

“Nah, that’s alright. Imagine a doppel making out with a human. Right?” He elbows his companion, grinning.

“Get home safe, now. No more dallying,” the older of the pair cautions before abandoning you, resuming patrol with the more inexperienced member who’s still wearing a smirk as he trails slightly behind, darting one more glance in your direction as if hoping to catch you in the act again.

The copycat heaves a sigh of relief when they’ve both finally departed, the booted steps receding in the distance. His eyes lock with yours, and you see his nostrils flare slightly, a slight frown wrinkling the bridge of his nose, then his eyelids lift, whatever mystery he’s been puzzling over solved.

“You liked that.”

“What?” It’s your turn to be confused.

“You liked what we just did.”

Oh. Your cheeks flush again. “No, I…I was just playing along, like you said. You caught me off guard.”

“You did a good job. Thinking on your feet. Admirable, really. How deep in debt I’m getting,” the doppel hums beside your cheek. He hasn’t shifted much since your discovery, one hand still braced on the wall at your back, his body leaning close to yours. “You smell good. Good enough to eat.”

You shiver and gasp. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“No, no. Not what I had in mind at all,” he hurriedly reassures you. The clone of the milkman plants a kiss on the side of your neck. Gentle. Not rushed, not under the guise of something to trick the guards. Repeating the process, getting accustomed to using the human body he’s replicated for this new task. He kisses your lips again, and you know you should be repulsed.

You’re not.

Your mouth parts for his, inviting him inside. He’s already growing more skilled, the tongue against yours slick, deft, curling and stroking, the fire he’d begun stoking in your core flaring anew.

You’re French kissing a doppelgänger, and you like it.

You feel a hand caressing down your body, pausing to drag the purse off your shoulder, then kneading one breast before sliding down to your hip, moving neatly around to grope the curve of one buttocks cheek. The fingers curl, dragging up the fabric of your dress.

“I can smell your arousal. Your body wants to mate.” It’s crass, vulgar, sheer filth the alien should be slapped for uttering, but there’s nothing derogatory in the way he mentions it, the words of observation that he spreads before your lips lilted with a kind of wonder, fascination, curiosity. He’s finally reached the hem of the skirt portion of your work uniform, shifting quickly to the waistband of the panties you’re wearing, dipping underneath and nudging at the fork of your body.

To be doing this, with a doppelgänger, in public…

Your legs are already shifting, your stance broadening slightly to grant him better access. A little grunt of satisfaction, and then his fingers glide through your slickened folds, searching for the source of that dampness.

You moan softly, disappointed when the fingers do not linger, instead brought up to the invader’s lips, his thumb rolling the slick of your sex over the pads of his index and middle fingers curiously before he thrusts them into his mouth, a fresh flood leaking from your canal as you watch his eyes slide closed, a sound of some rapturous enjoyment hummed around those digits.

He kneels down, the movement swift and smooth, your eyes darting nervously to the lit street so close and yet so far, the last of the street lamp glow’s reach ending just beyond the shadows you’re standing in. The doppel looks up at you and you bury a hand in the thick mane of chestnut hair, a tender gesture of permission, pleading. You don’t know if he’d stop even if you’d declined the offer, that ravenous look in his eyes intense as he impatiently shifts the hem of your dress again, dragging away the flimsy undergarment that clothes your sex, this last barrier discarded carelessly on the pavement nearby.

Your low heeled pumps scrape against the dirty gravel of the alley as you adjust your position, the alien’s face instantly at your pussy, nose digging into your mound, tongue laving the rosy sensitive flesh. He groans and you echo the sound, your legs already trembling as his tongue delves deeper, dragging fluid back, the inadvertent flick of the tip of the curled muscle against your bud making you gasp and moan, your head rocking back against the brick and mortar.

His attention focuses on that sensitive bundle of nerve endings, mouth clamping over it and sucking, slurping, nursing at it until you see spots in front your eyes. You know you’re being loud, your only saving grace being that the building at your back is a long abandoned shirt factory with no one to hear your lewd sounds of pleasure.

His fingers are at your entrance again, paired to penetrate into that opening. The milkman he’s imitating has long fingers that reach deep, curling and twisting inside, scooping out more of your arousal for him to lap at before he sups at your pussy, drinking straight from the source.

You bite your bottom lip until it bleeds when you climax, shuddering against that incessant mouth worshipping your cunt, your fingers knotting restlessly in his tresses. You cum like a freight train, hard and fast, an unstoppable force driving you right through into bliss.

He’s still lapping, enjoying the taste of you, this new creamier substance that emerges from deep within after your release. You can’t tolerate it any longer, now shoving gently at his shoulders, pleading you’re too sensitive, it’s too much, you feel as if you might faint if not for the strong building exterior supporting your spine.

The doppelgänger rises, face wet with your juices smeared across his mouth and chin and cheeks, a distinct shine visible even in this dim illumination. “Delicious,” he growls softly, dragging his fingers over his dampened features and then nursing them clean.

His gaze focuses on the smear of crimson on your lower lip and he licks at that spot, sucking the wedge into his mouth, tasting that little copper tinged leakage of your lifeforce. You whimper and keen, feeling his hand guide one of yours to his crotch, pressing it against the erection straining there.

You squeeze gently and he huffs in pleasure, dragging your hand up and down. Needing no further guidance, you begin struggling with the belt buckle and button closure and zipper keeping you from your goal, dragging his cock through the opening flap of his briefs, smearing precum over the tip and eliciting another deep growl, the mouth nuzzling your throat vibrating in pleasure.

“Want to fuck you,” he gasps, and you find yourself nodding, no longer caring about the exposed location or what you’re about to let invade your body. You want it, the brief satiety you’d just enjoyed already dissipating, leaving you hungry for more.

His hands loop around the back of your thighs, his body crouching slightly then lifting you up, your dress scraping along the bricks. He fucks up into you and your legs wrap around him, your wrists draped over his shoulders as you’re thrust into and back against the building.

The milkman’s copycat prick is large, long and thick, stretching you as he fills you when his hips snap forward. Your unprotected buttocks suffers abrasions each time you’re impaled but you couldn’t care less. The pain is lost amidst the pleasure you’re experiencing as he buries himself deeply, withdrawing just slightly before driving forward again. Your mouths seek one another’s but it’s difficult with all the jostling, a sloppy collision of wet lips and wetter tongue, trails of saliva linking your panting openings.

“Your stitches…the strain, you shouldn’t…you’re bleeding,” you gasp, the hand that snakes down finding his shirt sticky with blood.

“Don’t care…fix it later…”

Your breasts are tender from the repeated battering of his chest against yours. You’re being pummeled mercilessly now, the invader pushing so hard it’s as if he’s trying to merge completely with you. You almost think you can see, just for a moment, a shift in the facial features, a glimpse of the doppelgänger’s true form lurking beneath the false human surface, but then it’s gone and it’s just those soft tired eyes and that slack, generous mouth as his cock pounds into your cunt until your body finally surrenders to another release, your muscles clenching, sucking at his member. He chases his own climax, moaning against your mouth, pumping streams of hot seed inside of you.

You realize then you’re both sweating, both drenched in perspiration and saliva, blood from his reopened wound and cum that leaks out of you and coats the erection he withdraws from your body as he slowly lowers you back to the ground, your stockinged feet touching the dirty road, your shoes lying nearby where they’d tumbled during the rough intercourse with the alien creature.

The doppel retrieves your panties and you hastily shove them into the purse he hands you. There’s no way you’ll be putting those back on after being in the dirty alley, almost laughing aloud at the idea when you’ve just been soiled by something you should consider disgusting. The amusement fades as you watch him brush the sole of each nylon clad foot clean before assisting them back into your pumps, the gesture almost oddly tender and thoughtful.

The doppelgänger straightens, his fingers reflexively reaching for the bloodied area staining his shirt, then moving to refasten his pants. His eyes meet yours again, waiting to see what you’ll do next. Wondering if there is regret, perhaps. Or if this is the start of…something.

“I…I live two streets over. We’re nearly there.” As if you hadn’t been interrupted on your journey home. You don’t know what to say, just wanting to fill the sudden silence.

He nods and you begin walking in slow, measured steps. Your limbs are still tingling, the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm still firing through them.

You and your companion reach your destination. The building looms up between two shuttered shops. Five stories. No elevator. You resided on the top floor. A lot of stairs to tackle on a good night when you’d merely worked a shift at the diner. Now, after this…

“It’s a long trek. I’m on the fifth floor. Will you be okay walking that much? I don’t know where else to stitch you back up again. I need to wash it, I need a good light source, I…” You’re inviting him inside your apartment. The realization suddenly dawns on you.

“Yes, I’ll manage.” He pauses. “Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“Helping me avoid the DDD earlier. This. Letting me into your home.”

You nod, your hand resting on the rusted railing that borders a flight of cement steps leading inside the building. The nearby street lamp flickers, a bulb that was long overdue for a change, the filaments within struggling.

“Of course. People should help each other.” You ascend the stairs, holding open the door for him.

He nods gratefully. “I’m not human, though. I’m the enemy.”

“Are you?” Your voice sounds wary at this reminder and you pause at the top of the first landing.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, following you up the next flight of stairs.

“Until the debt is repaid?”

“You don’t trust me.” It’s a statement, not a query.

“I don’t know how I feel.” You’ve reached the third floor. Despite his bravado earlier, you see him wincing slightly, his breathing ragged as he keeps one hand pressed to the injury. You wait for him to recover but he waves his other hand, indicating you should continue your journey.

“Did you enjoy it?”

The words make you halt abruptly and he nearly collides with you. You hurry up to the next landing and clear your throat before you give voice to your admission. “Yes, I enjoyed it,” you say when he reaches your side.

“Will we do that again?”

“Now?”

His solemn features break out into a smile. Handsome. The milkman whose appearance he’d copied was attractive, especially like this. You like the curve of that mouth, the flash of his teeth. “No, not now. I’m hardly in any condition to…I meant later,” he adds for clarification. “Another time.”

“Oh. Yes.” A sudden thought occurs to you. “Will you be safe from the patrol? On the way back, to wherever…”

“I’ll manage. Don’t worry.” He steps closer to you. “Are you that anxious to be rid of me?”

“No, I only meant…” You shake your head, feeling flustered.

“Were you looking for me tonight? When you were behind the diner. Hoping I’d be there, maybe?”

“Why would I…I hardly know you.”

“You know me a little better now though, right?” He crowds you back against the wall of the stairwell. You’re thinking maybe injury or not, he still wants you. You can feel the desire radiating from his eyes, his lips hovering close to yours. “You’re really something special, aren’t you? Out of all the humans to run into, and I find the only one who’s willing to take a chance on me, risk…” His voice trails off before he kisses your mouth. It seems impossible there would be any passion left inside of you to respond but you find your lips melting against his, one hand curling around the nape of his neck, holding the doppelgänger close.

[yeonzzzn]

hi hi! I have an idea :3 yandere heeseung baby trapping y/n even though that was her plan the whole time bc she’s also a yandere for him:3

oh my god I love this idea saurrrrr much😫😮‍💨 anon your brain is *chef kiss* 🩷🩷🩷

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baby trapping: lee heeseung

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader word count: 1.5k

Heeseung always loved the thought of baby trapping you. He’s got a bad enough breeding kink as it is, but just the thought of getting you pregnant and making you stuck with him? His yandere ass could cum on the spot just thinking about it. His whole body getting tingly and his heart pumping faster and faster. 

Day by day Heeseung slowly inched closer and closer to actually baby trapping you. Mostly when he’s buried deep inside your cunt, cock pressing against your cervix as his cum fills you completely. 

It’s not even just making you become stuck with him, he wouldn’t mind having a baby with you. To share the responsibility of caring for the life you both created together, to raise that precious life that was a mixture of the two of you. It would be the happiest he’s ever been. 

Those thoughts alone pushed Heeseung into action. Gathering up all the condoms and Plan Bs around the apartment and tossing them out one by one slowly without your knowledge. Not wanting to make it too obvious what his plans were. Heeseung already knew you wouldn’t bat too much of an eye at the condoms disappearing, you two barely used them anyway. And for the Plan Bs? Was just what it was used for, as a backup plan in case you accidentally skipped one of your birth control pills or got sick and had to stop taking them because of your medication. The Plan Bs would be a bit harder to toss out, but again with your birth control, you wouldn’t take much notice. 

It was birth control that was the real problem. How would Heeseung wing you off it? It’s something you take every day at seven am on the dot. It’s not like he can dig into your bathroom bag you keep under the sink and just throw them down the sink or toilet or the trash. 

Except, maybe he could. 

Heeseung walks into the bathroom, not to snoop around for your birth control, but to take a hot shower after his long day of work. Wanting to let the steamy water rush down his body in relaxation before sitting in front of his PC and playing video games the rest of the night with his friends. 

It wasn’t until after his shower that he noticed it. 

He stood in front of the sink, taking the towel that was wrapped around his lower half and bringing it to his head to shake all the water out of his hair, as he lowered the towel back down when he noticed the small pink plastic case, just sitting in the corner of the sink. 

Heeseung reached for it, picked it up, and slowly looked inside it, his gut being right that this was indeed the case you kept your birth control in. 

How could he have gotten so lucky? You left it on the sink by mistake from rushing to work this morning. It was too perfect. It was like the universe was telling Heeseung to baby trap you. To make you stuck with him forever. 

His plan was now fully in motion as he dumped out the contents of the pink case, making sure every last pill was gone and then tossing the case the next chance he got without you knowing. 

The next morning Heeseung woke to hearing you scrambling around the bathroom cabinet under the sink. He had to keep his smile hidden as he asked what on earth you possibly could be tearing apart the bathroom for. 

“I can’t find my birth control pills, Seungie have you seen them? I left them right here on top of the sink.” 

With the poker face of a god, he shrugs, “No, I haven’t seen them, baby, I’m sorry.” 

Except I watched them get washed away down the sink so the next time I fill your cunt with my cum you’ll be pregnant with my child. 

Heeseung knew he had to be smart now, knowing you’ll be more careful during sex, wanting to be on top so the moment Heeseung is about to unload his seed you could jump off. 

But he’s been thinking about this plan for months, he’s ran the numbers over and over again. Calculated each scenario to a perfect point. His plan was already working in his favor, no reason for it to not work now. 

So Heeseung gaslit you into thinking there were more Plan Bs pills somewhere in the apartment, begging on his knees to let him fuck you as he ran his hands up and down your thighs slowly, feeling the goosebumps on your skin and watching how you breath hitched at his touch. He was already winning. 

Heeseung knew how to work your body, how to touch you in all the right places to get you into your back, hands pinned above your head as he fucked into rough and fast, hitting your G-Spot with such ease as his name was rolling off your tongue over and over. 

All he had to do was keep your arms above your head and pressed into the sheets, keep whispering the lying promise that a Plan B is waiting for you as he also praised how good you’re taking his cock, how much of his sweet good girl you were. 

He’d made you cum twice now, and his climax was approaching fast. This was it, the moment he’s only dreamed of was finally about to happen. The only hard part after this would be gaslighting you into staying at the apartment with him the rest of the weekend to make sure you don’t slip out and buy any Plan B once you figure out he lied to you. 

“Going to breed the fucking hell out of this pussy,” he moans into your ear, licking at the shell of your ear and feeling you shudder underneath him, his cock twitching, knowing he had a good few thrusts left before he’s spilling into you, “Going to fill you so full of my cum, going to breed you, make me a daddy baby.” 

Heeseung lifted himself up, getting one last look at your face and your fucked out expression. He furrowed his brows, feeling himself about to burst, snapping his hips back against your skin, then pushing back out. Was fixing to slide in a final time when he noticed a change. 

His eyes widened in surprise as your facial expression changed, your lips curled into a smirk as you quickly wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed him back deeply inside you, whispering, “Get me pregnant,” with such seduction in your voice. Your grip on his waist was strong enough that he couldn’t wiggle out of it even if he wanted to, and just accepted his fate as his warm cum filled you to the brim, bucking his hips further into you as much as he could with the help of your legs squeezing around him. 

Little did he know, you too had a plan of your own. 

You’ve secretly been as much of a yandere as your boyfriend, wanting to baby trap him into being stuck with you for the rest of your life. Plotting out ways to get him to spill his cum deep inside you without any sort of protection or backup plan. But Heeseung honestly made it easier for you. 

You went to throw away the condoms and Plan Bs, but already saw they were missing. You had suspicions, but didn’t know if maybe Heeseung misplaced them after they were used last. But you also knew there was no way that was possible. 

To test if you were correct, you purposely stopped taking your birth control a couple of days beforehand and purposely left the little pink case on top of the sink counter before leaving for work, not being surprised one bit when you returned home to see the case was missing. 

Your plan was just as much in motion as Heeseung’s. And there was no point in telling him that you two had the same plan, no no, that would take away the fun. So you played dumb. Acting as if you didn’t know he tossed out every protection product in the apartment. Let him “gaslight” you on his false promises. In the end, you were the one who gaslit him into thinking he was gaslighting and manipulating you in bed when the tables were oh-so flipped. 

It wasn’t until after Heeseung came down from his high but still fucked into you slowly making sure you milked him dry of every last drop he had, that he realized your plan all along. 

Right when he thought he played the game well, he was the one who got played. 

Oh, but it turned him on so badly knowing you wanted to baby trap him too. 

Heeseung just smirks down at you, “Ya? You wanna baby trap me? Going to cum in this cunt every single day until you’re pregnant.” 

[katsukikitten]

Togame Jo has always been in the back of your mind and maybe that's why you accidentally text him instead of your best friend, otherwise why else would he show up to your house so late in the evening? inspired by @kingkatsuki adding onto a general "diary entry" to my blog .

A good finger fucking until I cry would fix me

A random thought you text to your friend before you toss your phone on your nightstand, groaning into your pillow with disgust over how horny you were over nothing at all.

It was just ovulation week of course, leaving you weepy and wet at your lashes and between your thighs. Dolphin shorts riding up as you reach for a shirt on the ground that you've stolen from your crush. The last time you'd seen him you'd gotten caught in the rain coincidentally near his apartment and so he invited you in until the storm passed, your clothes dried and neatly folded placed into a bag as he walked you to the train stop while you wore his shirt and sweats. You promised you'd return it nice and clean.

You both knew that was a lie.

Dressing quickly so you could finish cleaning up your apartment before dinner, take out on its way in about a half an hour and you needed to find your cash stash to tip the poor man when he got here.

Washing dishes, taking out trash, sweeping and even picking up your living room that was neglected through the week all before the doorbell rings.

Smiling as you go to open the door, ten in your hand, as you hum happily thinking about your favorite oversized meal. Except when you swing the door open the delivery man isn't there.

It's Togame, your crush.

He stands tall even as he hunches a little. Plastic bag of your delivery on the wrist of the hand in his pocket while the other idly scrolls his phone. Yours pings, the delivery driver sending a picture of the hand off, to Togame, and kind message thanking you for the large tip.

He looks up at you, just over the rim of his circular glasses that sit on the edge of his nose.

"Ya always answer the door like that, sweetheart?" He asks locking his phone as he looks you up and down, deep emerald gaze noticing his old band shirt that swallows your body. He isn't sure you're wearing anything underneath, he smiles and runs his hand through his hair to his undercut before he's pushing his way past you. Entering your apartment as if it were second nature and not his first time here.

Stopping in the genkan to shove off his geta that match his dark cotton samue paired with his flashy Shishitoren letterman jacket. Walking to the living room to set down the takeout on the kotatsu before the rummages through your cabinets for plates.

"Togame?"

"Yea?"

"What are you doing here?" With how comfortable he makes himself in your home, you almost forgot you barely know him and that you're dressed in a shirt you never returned, pulling down the hem a bit more since your shorts hardly cover your ass.

"M here to 'fix ya.'" He tilts his head at you, wondering why you're lingering by your entry way, "Like ya asked."

"Like I asked?" A cold sweat breaks out over your skin, prickling at the nape of your neck.

"Yea, wouldn't want you texting anyone else your problems sweetheart. Least not ones like that." He sets the two plates and two sets of utensils down on the counter while he opens the fridge. Delighted to find a beer bottle that he opens with his teeth, before bringing one of the glass bottles to his lips for a sip. Grabbing for the plates and returning to the living room to settle in. Tossing his glasses and jacket onto your bed that lies a few feet from the kotatsu looking over his shoulder while he makes your plate.

"Ya coming?"

"Togame...I-" You let out a shaky breath, there's no way you texted the wrong person. You texted your friend your born again virgin woes, right?

Right??!!!

"Shy now?" He chuckles, pulling out his phone, holding it up so you can see the message that he received and sure enough it reads, a good finger fucking would fix me.

"THAT-" You bap at his phone knocking it from his hands as if that could make him unsee it, make him forget all about your lewd request, "That was NOT meant for you."

"Oh?" His jade eyes are cat like, narrowing for a moment in an emotion you can't place, "Who was it meant for? Surely not someone from Bofurin."

He takes another swig from his bottle, long fingers around the neck that he tightens over the thought. He knew no one from Bofurin could please you the way Togame knew he could, especially not that one with headphones and suckers.

Togame would much rather you be sweet on Sako, least then he was a Shishitoren.

"It was meant for a friend! It was like- like a joke between girls." Your confession shouldn't make his cock twitch in his pants, he palms at it and doesn't bother to be subtle.

"Girls always talk so lewdly to each other?" Silence stretches on between you two before he cracks a devilish smile, patting at the spot next to him, "Come on, gotta get some food in ya."

With your heart beating on your ribcage you slowly sink down next to Togame, who puts on a movie the two of you would enjoy while you eat your meal. Splitting with him what was supposed to be your dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow.

It's comfortable, the silence and occasional comments on the flick takes some odd plot twist and for a moment you forget why exactly he showed up at your door.

Right up until the credits, where you try to rise with a "welp" as if to show him away.

But Togame wasn't going anywhere, crowding your space with little effort and it's only now you realize you practically sat on top of him. He didn't let you get up and there's no way you can escape now as his mouth hovers so closely to yours.

"Now," he purrs, hand moving to cup your mouth, long fingers digging into the fabric to touch your already wet hole, "lemme help you with your problem."

Roughly pressing his fingers into your cunt and swiping up to your clit in slow strokes and it makes you gasp. Fisting the navy blue fabric of his samue when he presses his mouth to yours. Kissing you with a mixture of rough and soft that leaves you a little dizzy. Domineering in a way you'd forgotten you liked, gasping against his mouth giving him entrance for his tongue to slip in. Slow swipes as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss even more all while he keeps that slow rough drag of his finger tips. Until he hears the squelch of your cunt and feels your arousal soaking through your shorts only then does he pull away as you whine.

Hooking his fingers into the waist band of your shorts and yanking them down and off of your ankles, pushing you to lean back against your bed frame as he crowds further. Palm on your pretty mound as his fingers repeat the same action, catching on your entrance that starts to flutter with each circle of your clit back down to your perineum. He watches your face, watches your hips twitch as you arch your back for him, your hands fisting the hem of the fabric at your waist.

Togame brings his free hand to shove his shirt over the mounds of your breasts, exposing your already hard nipples to the cool air of your apartment. Leaning over to lick a broad stripe making you clench around nothing as a shiver runs down your spine. He does it a few more times before he's pulling your nipple into his mouth. Shoving his two thick fingers into your tight cunt with enough force it makes your tits bounce and you moan loudly.

Swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before flicking it in time with his thumb that now circles your clit. Adjusting his hands so that his fingers can touch that sweet spot and his thumb can rock against your clit with each thrust of his hand.

In just a few short strokes you're starting to see stars.

"Oh fuck oh fuck. Togame, fuck ahh." You sound better than what he's imagined when he fisted his cock to the thought of you. Your name on his tongue makes his cock ache painfully in his boxer briefs, begging to be touched but that could wait.

Biting at the soft tops of your tits, leaving hickies that you'll be finding for weeks as your head jerks back. Coil in your stomach so tight you think you might snap in half.

"Togame, don't stop, fuck, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum!" You sound whiny like you always do and Togame loves the sound. Lives for it and it's why he's always teasing you when you stop by Shishitoren to give the gang a lecture about not trashing the bar you work out.

It always fell on deaf ears that is until Togame made his men listen but he didn't want to think about all that right now.

He just wanted to burn the way you look creaming his fingers into his memory. Moving off your nipple with a lewd pop and silvery string that connects the two of you that he breaks with a swirl of his tongue. Looking down to see how you soak the floor and his fingers making him press into you a little harder.

"Then cum sweetheart. It's why I'm here remember?" With that you reach ecstasy, bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers with a loud moan of his name and tears collecting in your eyes, holding his gaze and if Togame wasn't in love with you before he sure as hell was now.

Watching you pant as he slows his pace just enough for you to catch your breath but let you ride out your high, loving how your cunt flutters around his fingers, trying to pull his digits back in that he steadily rocks into you.

Your manicured hands reach for his waist band, eyes trained on the outline of his long, fat cock.

"Please, 'gami." You whine, pulling at the fabric as his free hand gently pushes yours away. Green eyes tracking over pretty skin he's littered with bruises, kind replaying the way you cried out his name as he feels drool collect at the back of his throat. Pulling his fingers out until just the tips were hidden within your velveteen walls before he pushes the saliva to the tip of his tongue. Pulling his lips away from his teeth to push the spit from the wet muscle right onto your clit, not that you needed the extra lube. Messily rubbing it against the sensitive bud making you cum again with a cry and a biting grip on his forearm.

"No, no sweetheart. This is about you right now." He hums, eyes dark and trained on your face before he sets another relentless pace. Until you're slumping over and jerking back. Crying out his name over and over as fat tears fall past those pretty lashes Togame loves seeing you bat up at him when you want your way.

So into what he's doing to you he doesn't realize his boxers have become sticky until he shifts closer to you. Clinging to his skin too much for it to be only pre, turned on even more that you made him cum his fuckin pants from just your sights and sounds. Even your smell, sweet and sticking in the back of his throat making him insatiable.

"Fuck, lissen to how your cunt soundsssss." He growls, making emphases by pushing you beyond your limit so he can hear the clicking slick and cry of your cunt sucking his fingers back in when he pulls them out.

He doesn't stop until his fingers are pruned and cramping in your cunt that has been spasming non stop for the past five minutes, your throat sounds dry from your moaning and selfishly he thinks he could spit onto your tongue to help you alleviate your pain.

Looking up to see your debauched face, brows furrowed, lip pouting and tears of beyond overstimulation that makes him ease you down into slow ruts til his fingers are just in you. Half smothering you as he crowds your space, slowly pulling out his fingers and lightly tapping your clit as he leaves your glistening folds making you yelp.

Lips at your throat, leaving soft nips and nosing at your racing pulse, "Deep breath."

His voice is soft and it makes you dizzy, slowly pulling in breath until you feel a little more clear headed. Clinging to him slightly and he pulls you closer halfway on his lap so you can curl into his throat. Breathe in his cologne and hopefully think about him as much as he thinks about you.

Little does he know...

"Hmm, but you didn't get to have any fun." You pout, now real tears collecting in your eyes that have him chuckling again. Pressing his lips gently to yours before pulling himself away from you reluctantly.

"Oh I did." He presses his sensitive spent cock roughly through his pants until you can hear a muted squelch.

Suddenly there are hearts in your eyes, looking up at him and pushing him onto his back. Pulling his pants down until they sit midway on his hairy thighs, leaning over to lick the spent cum from his soft cock and if you weren't careful would quickly get hard. Your hand placed firmly on his sternum to keep him from getting up as your tongue travels to his heavy sac.

Togame just lies back, staring up at your ceiling, hand coming to circle yours until he's "clean" wishing you had texted him by accident months ago.

[bbyobbyo]

Everyone thinks Vernon is always at your place because you feed him. While you can agree it's mostly true, there might be more to it than meets the eye.

content: fluff, f2l, mentions of food

wc: 1.6k

notes: me taking a stab at writing lol. i also don't know how tumblr works. inspired by the fact that this man will eat everything in sight regardless if its someone else's food or not. i'd love to cook for him someday ❤

6pm on the dot. You don't even have to check to know who it is.

"Hey, Sol." You look up from the pot you've been stirring to greet your visitor who let himself in. Your apartment's passcode was practically muscle memory at this point.

"Hey, smells good in here," he comments while taking off his shoes, "I mean — it always does but you get it." You give him a little chuckle in response.

You hadn't been friends with Hansol for very long, but when a mutual friend decided to introduce you two to each other, you instantly hit it off. The whirlwind of a friend group you now shared was filled with strong personalities and quirks: Seungcheol was the self-proclaimed "dad" of the group but you'd swear he would whine and complained more than the rest of them combined. Seungkwan, the one who always had a sassy quip to share, but would be the first to cry at Disney movie nights. There was Jihoon, who showed his love exclusively with acts of service but is so tsundere he would rather die to admit he had any kind of emotions besides annoyance. Not to mention Soonyoung, who made it his mission to convince everyone that he was a tiger. No one knew how this bit started but everyone finds it entertaining nonetheless.

Amongst them all, Hansol was just a dude. A normal guy. As funny as it sounds, that's what made you two click so well. Not that he didn't have his own aspirations (and his own fair share of quirks!), but he had always been the sort of person that was along for the ride. Although a little bit clueless at times, you could tell his heart was in the right place.

"I brought dessert, by the way," He plops a plastic bag onto the kitchen counter, his cheekbones pushed all the way out in a smug grin, "hope you like it."

"Aww, Sol you didn't have to!" delight in your eyes as you wipe your freshly washed but still wet hands on your pants and scurry over to peek inside the bag. "Oh my god, this is that tiramisu from that bougie place, isn't it?! I heard the wait times were, like, over an hour. You're insane for this, thank you so much!" You're practically beaming as you put the dessert in refrigerator, promptly turning around to give him a hug. His hands automatically reach around your back as you bury your face into his chest. Man, he will never get tired of the way you smile at him over the smallest things.

"You're always feeding me, so it's like, the least I can do really" he murmurs as you let go, his own smile spreading across his face when you look up at him.

Right. Your relationship with Hansol was rooted in the fact that you both loved food. Cooking food in your case, and eating it for him. It was a match made in heaven, really. In the beginning stages of your friendship, you always noticed how he would always ask for bites of other peoples' food, the way he would eye a bag of snacks if anyone dared to bring them out, the "you gonna finish that..?" that would inevitably follow the conclusion of every meal. The guy was a human trash can with a black hole in place of his stomach. So really, was anyone surprised when Hansol practically attached himself to you that day you brought in those homemade baked goods for the friend group?

After that day, the rest was history. His insatiable hunger and the lack of his own cooking skills (poor dude would be consuming toast everyday if he didn't eat out) made him worship the ground you walked on whenever you fed him. In turn, his enthusiasm for your cooking and willingness to give honest feedback on your experimental recipes made him a regular guest at your apartment, much like today.

Hansol would be lying if he said he didn't feel like he was taking advantage of you sometimes, no matter how much you insisted that it wasn't the case. He always tried his best to chip in for your groceries or pick up ingredients when you didn't have time. He didn't even mind the way his friends teased him for being at your place more often than his own or the fact that you gained your own nickname among the guys as his personal chef. He was happy with your little arrangement, and it also helped that you were so easy to be around.

"Hey, can you help me set the table?" you say as you push a stack of plates and tableware toward him. Your attention is quickly pulled away again as you go to plate the food you've been laboring over the past hour.

The routine is a familiar one: sitting down across from each other with a wide array of dishes and sides in between. You always make him take the first bites; "I already taste tested everything as I was cooking, silly!" you would say, eyes focused and hands tucked under your chin eagerly awaiting his reactions and thoughts.

Today's meal was a hit, as it usually is. Hansol could count less than a handful of times that he didn't love your food, and even then he still ate everything despite you telling him that it was okay if he didn't finish it.

The next part of the routine, however, rivals even the food in his eyes. Both of you are glued to the chairs chatting away, even when all the food is long gone and empty plates remain on the table. Between you two, there was always something to talk about. Tangents turn to into more tangents turn into "remember when we…" turn into "we should totally do…" Hours can pass by before one of you even remembers that there was dessert in the fridge, and even more hours before either of you get up again to go wash the dishes. When that happens, you simply carry the conversation to the kitchen except this time with the gentle running of sink as background noise.

You were like a breath of fresh air from the chaos of his main friend group and someone he felt entirely comfortable with. Except lately he's been wanting to see you more and more. He would catch himself staring at his phone hoping a text from you would pop up, asking him to come over again.

He's embarrassed to admit that you have never hung out one-on-one outside of the walls of your apartment. It was an unspoken boundary that you two saw each other under the pretense of food, a boundary that he increasingly would like to cross.

You're not even looking at him, attention focused on scrubbing away at the pot in your hand, still talking about that awkward encounter with your neighbor yesterday. But the longer he stares at you, Hansol thinks to himself — have you always been this pretty? He traces every part of your form, from the micro expressions you make with your eyebrows as you talk, to noticing the little strands of hair by your face that escaped the ponytail you put it in, and the way your left sleeve is slowly slipping down your arm and in danger of getting soaked.

"...so screw me if I thought that it was none of his busine— Sol...?"

Before he even knew what he was doing he found himself abandoning his plate drying duty and sliding behind you at the sink, your back pressed against his chest as he grabbed your sleeve and gingerly rolled it up your arm once again. Just as he thinks you can't get any more gorgeous, his world stops when you turn your head around and he finds your face inches from his. The way your eyes glisten into his own makes the split second feel like an eternity before pulling away.

"S-sorry if I scared you, just didn't want your sleeve to get wet." adding a nervous chuckle to the end as he returns to the stack of tableware he has yet to dry.

"N-no! It's okay! Thank you for that!" you stammer back, trying not to look him in the eyes to hide the very obvious blush that spread on your cheeks. "Ahaha... yeah so anyways, what was I saying again?" Without missing a beat, he replies "you were talking about how your nosy neighbor thinks we're dating because I come over so often."

"Oh, haha, right..." your voice is barely above a whisper, a chuckle dies in your throat as you realize you've been scrubbing an already clean pot for 5 minutes now. You sigh as you turn off the water and start drying off your hands to put the dishes back in their places.

"I don't mind," he says after a thoughtful pause. It takes a second for you to register the words. "Sorry, what?"

"I don't mind if he thinks we're dating."

You feel like the hearing comprehension part of your brain just reset. "Wait, wha-"

"I think it would be kinda nice actually... if we dated."

After a second too long of silence from you, he was the one with panic with his eyes this time. "B-but only if you want to! Shit, uh, sorry I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. Just forget I said anyth-"

He's interrupted by your arms snaking around his neck. "You're hopeless, Sol", you say as you press a light kiss to his lips. "I think it would be nice if we dated, too."

[kaciidubs]

hey kacii boo 💞 i have a request if that’s okay?

hear me out ☝️

a/b/o OT8 skz x omega reader and reader finds out she is pregnant? the boys start noticing her acting different and she accidentally leaves a pregnancy test on the counter, causing the boys to see. When she gets home, the boys sit her down and talk to her about it ending in group cuddles from the boys 🫶🏻

I'm in love with this, truly! ❣ Word Count: 1.9k [I did not mean to type that much] ❣ Warnings: A/B/O Poly! SKZ x Omega! Reader, pregnancy, angst if you squint, mention of birth control, fluff, comfort ❣ Additional Tags: Mentions of Chris being an alpha, Felix, Jisung and Hyunjin being omegas as the only specific pack roles, no clear mated pairings within the pack but it's sort of Chris x Reader centered toward the end

It would begin with the most intuitive of the pack members noticing your extremely slight deviation from your usual routines - Felix.

He was a fellow omega, like Jisung and Hyunjin, but he was the most aware of everyone's trends and habits; which meant it was immediately apparent to him that something was wrong when you start doing small things like wearing pajama pants around the house as opposed to your favorite, work out pajama shorts.

Eventually, the small things he noticed began to grow into big things that the rest of his pack mates would catch onto, such as the way you turned away your favorite snacks when Changbin offered them, or the way you couldn't seem to stand the smell of Seungmin's shampoo though you spent countless nights washing his hair with the same product before. There was even one night where you snapped at Jeongin when he tried cuddling up to you when you least expected it, then immediately started crying because you felt bad.

Since that night you'd resorted to staying in the "guest room", which was simply a spare room for anyone who needed their own space for some time - which was highly disliked by each of your pack mates, but they wouldn't take away your decision.

One day, when you were out running a few errands, Minho was the brave soul who would venture into your temporary room to do a bathroom sweep to clean and take out any trash. What he didn't expect, however, was the waft of an overly sweet scent overwhelming his senses the second he opened the door - nor was he expecting to stumble across a plastic pregnancy test on the counter.

When you walked through the front door, reusable bags in hand, you were met with eight pairs of eyes staring at you, freezing you in place as you stared back with worried confusion.

"Um... Hi?"

The mix of scents usually eased you, but with the thick layer of anticipation and worry threaded throughout, you weren't sure what to expect.

"Kitten, can you come sit with us for a minute?" Minho offered softly as Changbin was the first to stand, walking over to take the bags from your hands and bring them to the kitchen for the time being.

Left with no other choice, you walked into the living room and sat in the empty space between Felix and Hyunjin; Jisung sliding onto the floor to rest against your leg while Jeongin and Seungmin settled against the opposite, before Changbin filled the space behind Hyunjin while Minho remained next to Felix.

Easing into the comfortable, impromptu cuddle puddle, you figured the impending discussion was going to be simple until Chris stood before the group - directly in front of you.

"Love... You know you can tell us anything, right?"

You bristled at his cautious tone, though the feeling of Hyunjin's hand grazing against your own eased your guard. "I know I can - what's this about?"

"You've been acting different lately, and at first we just thought it was because of a period, or a new symptom of your heat coming up, but then you started avoiding food and smells, and isolating yourself from us." Chris tried his best to keep his tone level, to keep the authority that swelled within him at a tolerable value, but his unwavering gaze showed all of his emotions. "Then Minho found this-" reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the same device that had thrown you into a panicked fit, so much so that you had to leave the house for a sudden errand run, "-and it all started to make sense. Why didn't you tell us you were pregnant, love?"

A pang of shame shot through your heart like an arrow, and judging by the disheartened whines from the boys immediately around you, they already felt the shift within you.

"We aren't upset, Jagi," Jisung pouted up at you as he nudged your thigh with his nose, round eyes filled with love.

Hyunjin nodded against your shoulder, bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss to the back, "We're just worried about you, muse."

A shivering breath rattled through you as you blinked back hot tears, looking up at the eldest, the head alpha among your unlikely pack.

"C-Chris, I- I don't-" You sniffled, cursing the tremble in your voice, "I wasn't trying to keep it a secret, I swear - I knew something was different but I didn't want to assume anything until I took the test last night and-" Biting back a sob, you felt a soft touch against your cheek - Minho's hand wiping away a stray tear. "I just... I didn't know how to say it so I went out to clear my head and figure out the words to say to you - to everyone because I- I'm not sure who got me pregnant! I didn't even skip my birth control, for fucks sake!"

This wasn't planned - despite a few discussions here and there about the potential idea of introducing pups in the future, none of you had done the true mating bond to solidify who would be the one to directly grow the pack with you, and the stress of it all had pushed you to isolation without you even realizing until you'd moved yourself to the guest room.

"Bunny, please take a breath for us." Changbin pleaded, leaning over so you could have a clear view of his comforting gaze, "You know none of us would be any type of hurt over who's pup you're carrying, not when it's the miracle of you being the one bearing them. It doesn't matter who did it, we'll figure that out when the time comes, all that matters is you being healthy and cared for - no more isolating."

"Bin's right," Chris piped up once more, drawing all attention to him with ease, "all we want to do is make sure you're okay - no matter how sudden this is, I don't think any of us weren't aware of something like this potentially happening. None of this is anyone's fault, none of ours and none of yours, you hear me?"

Nodding softly, you smiled at the subtle sensation of Seungmin squeezing your calf in a hug of sorts while Jeongin nuzzled against your thigh.

Minho cleared his throat softly, leaning forward to take your free hand within his, "I... I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy, Kitten - I would never look through your things without you knowing, and I'm sorry for not going to you first."

You squeezed his hand, looking at him with warm, glimmering eyes, "It's okay, Min, I know you meant well - I'm not mad at you at all. Honestly, it would've only been a matter of time until someone clocked it was pregnancy, anyways."

"You do have a new smell, Pup." Seungmin muttered from the floor, Jeongin nodding alongside him.

"Felix thought you were falling out of the pack - Chan had to talk him off the ledge," Jisung laughed, earning a few chuckles from Changbin and Hyunjin at the recollection of the memory.

The blond whined, lips pursed into a pout, "I was worried we did something wrong! I'm sorry I'm the only one who thinks of these things!"

Cooing, you nudged the side of your head against his, "It's okay, Lixie, there's no way I'd ever think of leaving any of you, you guys are my home."

He hummed softly, and you could feel the cuddle puddle slowly begin to set in but there was one final thing missing before you could truly feel at ease with the situation.

Untangling yourself from the tangle of bodies and arms, you made your way toward the eldest who was watching the scene with warm eyes and a soft smile - something he'd taken a liking to doing when he thought he wasn't being watched.

Without a moment to spare, you wrapped your arms around his middle, melting into the familiar mahogany and coconut scent as his arms wrapped around you in kind, securing you in a natural protective hold.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Channie." You murmured into his chest before leaning back to look at him, "And I'm sorry for not saying anything when I first felt off, I genuinely didn't think it could've been this."

"You don't have to apologize, baby, you were only doing what you felt was right at the time." Pausing for a moment, he studied your face slowly, "I know this whole conversation was a lot to throw at you so soon, but I just want to make sure... Are you okay with this? Do you want to have a baby right now?"

You nodded before he could even fully finish his second question, "I'm sure - I know I was scared on how to say it, but I never felt scared about not being able to take care of this baby, not when I have the world's most amazing pack to raise it in."

It was the truth, there wasn't a single doubt within you that made you believe that having a pup would be difficult in the pack - it was a possibility, a thought that had been floated around enough to start considering the full mating process, and now was the time to turn that thought into a processing reality.

A deep rumble vibrated through Chris's chest and he ducked his head in an attempt to hide away from the blush that had already consumed his ears, the sound making you melt against his body and draw the attention of the seven boys watching from their seats.

"Someone's happy to be a dad," Hyunjin teased with a grin, earning a scoff from Minho.

"Who says it's him?"

"I'm just saying it cause of his reaction! Technically we're all dads until she gets a scent tie, so why can't I place my bet now?"

Jisung groaned, "Placing bets on a baby is so inhumane... I bet it's Changbin's."

"What?! Why is my name in this now? What if it's Jeongin's?"

The youngest made a sound that could only be best described as confused shock as his head shot up to look at the man, "Listen, I'd be honored, but I can say for a fact it wasn't me! I'm too young to be a father!"

"That's not what you were saying when-"

Chris cleared his throat with a pointed look, "Okay, how about we not have this debate and go cuddle and think about dinner, yeah?"

With that, the mini crowd dispersed in a jumble of comments, heading down the hall toward his room since - in an ironic retrospect - that's where the biggest bed was put.

As the living room grew quieter, he looked at you with warm eyes, "I have a feeling it's mine."

You laughed in shock, hitting his chest lightly, "What happened to 'let's not have this debate', Mr. Bang?"

"It's not a debate! It's just a... speculation, a theory, if you will." He murmured softly, leaning down to press his lips to yours in a quick kiss. "Now come on, the last time that combination went into my room, they turned my bed into a wrestling ring and I just found a replacement for my lamp online."

Letting him lead you down the hall, a soft smile settled onto your lips as your free hand came to subconsciously rest over your stomach - the pride of the new life growing within you and the one changing before your eyes filling you with a new sense of optimism and anticipation.

[unedited]

[balkanradfem]

Anti capitalistic methods of self reliance!

Everyday items:

Plastic bags can be replaced by cloth bags you can sew, without any prior knowledge of sewing, from any old shirt you were going to throw away

Toilet paper can partly or completely be replaced by 'Family cloth', which is a series of cloth napkins cut to the size you like, which are then washed after each use! There's no risk of disease if only used for number one, for number two they need to be submerged into peroxide liquid in order to be safely cleaned. Even if you only use them for number one to stay safe, being reusable and costing nothing they will save you a lot in not having to buy toilet paper

Paper towels can be replaced by little cut-out cloths you can easily wash after use, or a simple kitchen and bathroom cloth for cleaning

Paper tissues have originally been handkerchiefs, washable and reusable, zero waste option (and they can be very pretty too!)

Laundry detergent can be replaced by horse chestnuts, or conkers! If cut open and submerged in water, they will produce soapy water, which is equally good at cleaning as your laundry detergent, completely environmentally friendly and free if you foraged the chestnuts. They can be collected and dried to use for the entire year, and you can tie them up in a sock to put in your washing machine.

Cleaning products can be replaced by vinegar, and if you hate the smell you can change it by infusing citrus peels in it! It will smell like oranges and lemons after you leave them in there for a few weeks

Cleaning products can also be self-made, by fermenting food scraps, it's called 'enzyme cleaner' and it can clean most of things in a completely environmentally friendly way!

Shampoo can be self-made, or replaced with options like herbal teas, which will also ensure that your hair no longer gets greasy, as grease is the result of using shampoo

Menstrual pads can be sown from any discarded pieces of cloth, they only need to be submerged in cold water after use in order for blood to wash out. Additionally you can make washable menstrual panties, which make sure your pads don't move in there!

Simple medicine for aches like stomach cramps, headaches, anxiety, sore throat can be found in the basic knowledge of herbalism, and simply making teas from herbs that soothe these issues. They will not be able to cure a heavy disease, but are able to provide momentary relief from annoying aches!

Immunity booster syrup can be made out of elderberries, if you're careful about not getting any seeds or stems in!

if you're growing food, you can grow your own dish sponges, and washing sponges, the plant is called 'Loofah' and you can grow a whole lot in one season then use them for years

Reuse plastic items for as long as you can, to lessen the amount being thrown into landfills, and if you need new items, aim to get a not-plastic one

If you have lots of paper trash or newspapers, you can learn to make baskets from it.

Instead of throwing away food scraps, you can try setting up a simple composting bin and also get some valuable free soil, that is great for growing little plants and herbs in it

If you're composting on a big scale, the heat compost produces can be used to heat a room

getting into hobbies like soap making, pottery, woodcarving, sewing, knitting  or weaving can also save you a lot of purchasing because you realize you can simply make that thing yourself, and in better quality than it would be available at the store

Saving water and energy:

Accumulating water in a big pot while you're washing dishes, then using that water to water your houseplants is safe, especially if you're not using a lot of detergent, and it saves a lot of water

To save energy when cooking in a pot in the stove, wait until your pot starts boiling, then take it off the stove, and wrap it in a cloth, then a towel, then a blanket, and leave it wrapped up. The layers of cloth are making it difficult for the heat to escape the pot, ensuring it will keep very high temperature for half an hour, cooking as if it was on the stove. If it needs to cook longer, you can just put in on the stove for a minute to get it back to boil. You can cook pasta, rice, beans, potatoes, soups, stews, risotto, pretty much anything with long cooking time like this.

If your water boiler is big, you don't need to leave it on at all times, I've reduced my electricity bills by a lot by turning it on only when I intend to use the hot water. In the summer, if you have access to a natural body of water, use that for washing!

If you own a property, watch where the water is naturally going and accumulating; you can collec t this water and set up a system to use it for gardening/any outdoor use

if you're building a structure, making sure that the sun hits the windows in the winter, and that the place is protected from the wind by growing trees as a wind shield, will save loads of energy in heating and cooling it, as well as making sure the structure is well insulated

Heat/cool only the parts of the structure/house that you're using, making it both environmentally friendly and ensuring you don't have a too big temperature difference when you go outside, making you healthier

Try an experiment were you go a day without electricity and see what you can use as alternative in this situation; it's okay if you fail, it will provide you with knowledge of how dependant you are on the energy, and the ideas of what you can possibly do when without!

Clothing:

If sewing clothing from scratch is something that appeals to you, that is ideal for self-reliance! It is likely that after just a bit of practice, you'll be able to sew more quality items than are sold, because current fashion items are made to fall apart, and you can make your clothing strong and durable.

Sharing clothing you no longer want to wear, and letting others know they can offer their unwanted pieces to you can provide you not only with practical clothing, but you can use all fabric, buttons, zippers and other materials to sew! You can, again with minimal practice and even by hand-sewing, make your own bags, tablecloths, placemats, pillows, blankets, decorations, hats and scarfs

Visible mending, embroidering, adding details or creating your own little alterations on clothing will not only provide a sense of accomplishment, but enrich your life in the way of skill development and being able to make and mend things with little resources

Learning about history of textiles and what fast fashion is doing to the environment provides appreciation and love for sewing and creating textiles, and could inspire you to try and see how it feels to do!

Any piece of clothing that is no longer fit to be remade into something new, can still be cut into pieces and used for cleaning, as a paper towel replacement, for wiping the floor or wiping your shoes, and if it's soft, for pillow filling!

For extra clothing or furniture, you can join online groups named 'buy nothing' and 'sharing is caring', where people will often gift extra clothes and furniture for free, sometime appliances and electronics too

Food:

If any outside space is available, learning to garden is an excellent investment in food security

Seeds can be harvested from plants you already have, gifted from neighbour or friend gardeners, and some can even be taken out of store-bought produce

Soil can be taken from the forest ground which has composted leaves as topsoil, dig under a tree for best results

If no outside space is availabe, dwarf plants, herbs, and greens can be grown in containers, clean your air while they also provide food

Learning to forage for wild edible plants will provide both entertainment and free food! Any wild plant you find is likely to be more rich in nutrients than a cultivated plant, making your diet well rounded and healthy

Learning to grow trees and care for them will provide free food not only for you, but for generations to come, as well as offset the damage from the climate change. Knowing how trees work and how to prune and nourish them is powerful knowledge.

Preserving food:

Ways of preserving your food long-term are curing (for onions, potatoes, garlic, pumpkins), canning (tomatoes, peppers, fruit), fermenting (cabbage, hot peppers, turnips), dehydrating and sun-drying (tomatoes, fruit, herbs, hot peppers, mushrooms)

Growing and collecting food during warm months and then saving them for winter was done by people for centuries and it provides a safe and reliable access to food all year round

Buying cheap produce when it's in-season and preserving it can save you a lot of money and bring you far in self-reliance

Making your own recipes and then getting to eat them later in the season bring a sense of accomplishment and pride, as well as providing a zero waste food option

Cooking food from scratch is made easier by having some of your food preserved, because a lot of the time you've already prepaired most of your ingredients, and only have to place them in the pot

If you already know to make your own bread, you can also try making your own yeast, by mixing flour and water, and letting it ferment while adding more flour and water every day. It can last forever.

If you're interested in knowing more about gardening, herbalism, tree care, and foraging, check the 'Homesteading Survival Knowledge' masterlist, filled with links on these specific topics!

These are not ideas that anyone should quickly or immediately integrate in their life; instead, trying whatever seems interesting and appealing, slowly learning about it and trying one thing at the time is more encouraging and sustainable! I myself have spent years learning and integrating these, enabling me to feel happy and confident doing any and all of this. If this is overwhelming, pick whatever feels appealing and do only that! Forget the rest until it feels easy and fun thing to try out.

[darkmacademia]

even more things that help me survive being alive part 3! (pt. 1/2)

eat directly out of the cooking pot or after putting food directly into tupperware after cooking so you don't have to wash more dishes. and if you have leftovers you can just put the tupperware in the fridge

putting several plastic bags at the bottom of your trash can/waste bin so you can just take out a new one when the trash gets full. this helps me a lot in my bedroom and bathroom where the plastic bag hoard™ is too far away

keeping one of those transparent cold drink takeaway cups from a cafe and using that to drink my homemade coffee out of, just to make it feel like I've been somewhere

having a daily calendar that allows me to visually block out time for different tasks as my time-estimation is awful, and I think showering will take two hours

keeping a magnetic whiteboard on my fridge door that I write new grocery food items on so I know what I have to eat. no more rotting food bc you forgot it existed

a stock of passable quality readymade frozen meals, or frozen dumplings etc for when you want to eat but there are too many steps for even basic cooking

a personal one that I just kinda like - having a daily diary but not for complete sentences or fancy writing just very drily outlining what I did during the day. this creates smash hits such as "went to the store today. cried. watched encanto. cried again"

having a list of everything I could feasibly do on a day/hour off. includes all my hobbies, exercises or outdoor activities, language learning, friends (yes a list of your friends to remind u they exist), stuff I haven't had time for, to-read/to-watch lists. otherwise I forget what's out there!

[gisellaaa]

the white snow casts a bright film over the town; you shine the brightest in my eyes

cb98 | during an off day, connor finally takes you to look at the christmas lights in chicago.

If there was one thing you liked about Chicago, it was the atmosphere in the winter time. The nicer parts of the city had miscellaneous Christmas lights strewn along the buildings and trees. You admired them during the day when you were out doing errands, then at night you would watch them twinkle from the apartment window. Your eyes twinkled as bright as those damn lights when you would peer out at them. Connor noticed your admiration for them quickly.

You were never one to necessarily like being out in the cold, though growing up in Canada, it was usually more likely to be chilly than warm. 

Connor had been busy since the season started. He was either watching film, playing, or practicing, not leaving much time to spend with you. Connor was dedicated to the sport, that was something you’ve known forever. When he finally achieved his goal of playing in the NHL, you swore he’s never been happier.

Connor arrived home mid-afternoon from morning skate, the only thing that was planned on his schedule for the day. You were lounging on the couch, in the midst of reading the book that had taken much of your attention. 

“Hi, Connie. How was morning skate?” You asked, your eyes barely glancing up from the book. A loud thump from his bag sounded through the small apartment, a loud grunt following it.

“Normal, nothing really exciting.” Connor replied, pulling open the fridge to grab a water bottle.  You watched him open the bottle, taking three long gulps of water. Your eyes glanced back out the window, a thought popping into your mind.

“Since you don’t have anything tonight, can we please drive around to look at all the lights? It’s depressing to look at them from this window every night.” You spoke, book marking your page and shutting the book. You placed the hardback book on the table, sitting up slightly.

Connor looked over at you, a nod evident after he finished the entirety of the water bottle. “You really want to?” He asked, tossing the plastic bottle into the trash can.

You nodded quickly, your eyes fixated on him. “I do, they just look so pretty at night.”

“Then yeah, of course.” Connor nodded, smiling at you.

Later that evening, when the sun had set, you were dressed and ready to head out. You had on a chunky white sweater with light wash jeans. Your hair was pulled into a half-up style, a black ribbon adorning around the hairband. Connor was dressed in his usual every day attire - a black Nike hoodie with jeans and Air Forces. 

You always made fun of him for wearing those shoes, they were beat up and have been through a lot.

Connor’s car had been warming up in the parking garage, hoping to ensure the interior was warm before you guys left. Connor waited for you to finish getting ready, scrolling through his phone in the living area. You finished the last of your makeup, grabbing your purse from the dresser in the bedroom. 

“You ready?” You spoke, announcing yourself as you walked into the living room. Connor quickly stood up, turning to look at you.

“You look pretty,” Connor complimented, grabbing his keys and wallet from the coffee table. The coffee table was practically on its last leg, you’ve had it for ages. It was your grandma’s and after her passing, it had been sitting in the garage of your family’s home.

Your face flushed a light red, scrunching up at his compliment. “Thank you,”

Connor placed a light kiss on your cheek, leading you outside of the apartment. Hand-in-hand, you walked down to the parking garage, finding Connor’s car in the usual parking spot. He opened the passenger door for you then got into the driver’s seat. 

“I think we can drive down the main road outside, there are many lights down there. Then, do you know that little Christmas tree thing near the arena? There are many different like - light galleries - or something,” You spoke up, watching Connor connect his phone to the car play.

“I think I know what you are talking about,” Connor spoke, putting the car into reverse.

His hand found its usual spot on your thigh once you got onto the main road. The road was a long straight stretch, traffic filling the road. Usually, it would’ve irritated Connor, but the traffic helped you really get a good look at the Christmas decorations that adorned the road. Your eyes were fixated on the twinkling lights outside of the window. There was a mix of colors; white, red, green, blue, yellow - you were absolutely mesmerized.

Due to the stop-and-go flow of traffic, Connor was able to look over at you, admiring you. You caught him a few times, only when you would turn your vision to the other side of the road.

You felt increasingly lucky to have ended up with Connor. Christmas was easily your favorite season, your previous partners never really wanted to indulge in Christmas festivities.

"Oh! Look at those ones!" You gushed, pointing at lights that were arranged to look like a polar bear. It was perched against the small, private owned pet store. "I love Christmas - Ohmygosh."

Connor let out a chuckle, shaking his head at you.

After an hour of sitting in traffic, the car was parked in the parking lot to a walk-through Christmas event. It happened every year in Chicago, right by the United Center. Many vendors would set up different Christmas light decorations.

You pushed some of your fly aways out of your face, getting out of the car to face the cold Chicago air. Connor's hand once again grasped yours as you both walked through the entrance.

"Connor - Ohmygosh - I love this so much." You stated, your eyes dancing from each light attraction.

"Good, I'm glad. Sat through a hour's worth of traffic for this." Connor sarcastically spoke, his hand squeezing yours.

"Oh quit it, you loved every minute of that traffic. Well, except for when that one car almost hit us." You grinned at him, pulling out your phone to take some photos.

At some point, Connor was walking behind you, attentively watching as you would become entranced by a new attraction. You would take out your phone to take a picture, then stare at the lights for many minutes afterward. Connor took some candid pictures of you aswell.

At the end of the walk way, there was a large Christmas tree that was decorated with many ornaments and lights. You swore your heart doubled in size looking at it. You were never sure why you loved Christmas so much, maybe it was the endless joy that usually came along with it.

Connor linked back up at your side, glancing at you while you stared at the tree. "Thank you, Connie. Thank you for doing this with me." You stated, finally detaching your eyes from the tree to look at him.

"Of course, baby, this was fun." Connor replied, his hand linking back into yours. "It's cute, yanno, how much you love Christmas. Don't think I've ever met someone who likes the season as much as you."

"It's just such a positive time - and it's so beautiful." You explained, a grin adorning your face as you stared at him. "I love you,"

"I love you too," Connor replied, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips.

yourusername

yourusername connor took me to look at all the pretty christmas lights. 11/10 man if you ask me <3

comments have been disabled

_connorbedard

_connorbedard Pretty girl likes the Pretty lights.

comments have been disabled

[ad-caelestia]

types of spells and ideas for methods of casting [long post]

Attracting

fill a small jar with honey and add a written statement of intent to the jar - seal and set the jar in direct sunlight to manifest your intent

stir your morning coffee or tea in a clockwise motion while focusing on the intent of what energies you wish to attract for the day

fill a jar with herbs and crystals that represent what you want to attract and add a statement of intent

charge a crystal and wear on your person to attract certain energies

create a sigil and either draw it on yourself or on paper and keep in your pocket

create a talisman, charge it, and wear it to attract various energies

Banishing

take an item that represents what you wish to banish and: throw it in the trash, flush it down the toilet, burn it, bury it, drown it

burn the item and sweep the ashes out the back door or bury them

carve the name of what you want to banish into a black candle and let it burn down completely - bonus points if the candle is anointed with herbs or a binding oil

transmute negative energy into a stone (preferably a black stone like onyx) and throw it over the fence in your backyard (or whichever direction is south in reference to your home)

stir your morning coffee or tea in a counter-clockwise motion while focusing on the intent of what energies you wish to banish for the day

using incense that is associated with banishing negative energy, walk around your space in a counter-clockwise motion with the lit incense in your hand

Binding & Sealing

wrap a string around a poppet or other representation of the target or item you wish to bind

put the poppet or other representation in a plastic bag filled with water and freeze it

place the item in a black box and seal it - store in a dark place or bury the box in your backyard

write the item you want to bind on paper and seal with wax - keep safe until the bond is broken

perform a tie-breaking spell

Blessing & Consecrating

anoint an object with holy or blessed water/oil

use spring water to bless objects

place the object in a dry bath of herbs or flowers that are known for blessing

pass the object through incense smoke that is associated with blessing

use a censer to consecrate a place or a room

Cleansing

leave the item in the path of direct moon, sun, or starlight

place in a dry bath or herbs or flowers that are associated with cleansing

place the item in a bowl of sea salt

pass the item through incense smoke that is associated with cleansing

pass the item through running water

anoint the item with a cleansing oil or charged water

bury the item in soil for 3 days so it may be “reborn” when unearthed

place a cleansing crystal on top of or next to the item

hang a wind chime outside of your home to negate negative energies before they have the chance to enter your home

physically clean and freshen your space - dust, mop, open the windows and let some fresh air inside (you can view this as an "out with the old and in with the new" situation)

Cursing

fill a poppet with baneful herbs and crystals, seal it, and store in a black box

add baneful herbs and crystals to a jar with a piece of paper that states the target’s name or a description of them and seal it

create a poppet or other representation of the target and destroy it (commonly by burning)

utilize martian or saturnian energy for baneful magic

stab the poppet with pins and needles

curse an item and "gift" it to the target

Dreams & Sleep

fill a sachet with herbs associated with restful sleep and peaceful dreams and hang above your bed

place the sachet under your pillow

wash your bedsheets and sleep clothes with a few drops of lavender or chamomile essential oil

alternately, choose fabric softener that is lavender scented to wash your sheets or sleep clothes with

create a sigil for peaceful dreams or dream recall, charge under the light of the moon, and place it under your pillow before you go to sleep

utilize lunar or neptunian energy in dreamwork

mugwort, peppermint, or valerian root tea before bed for vivid, lucid dreams

chamomile tea before bed for restful sleep

lemon verbena (vervain) tea before bed for dreamless sleep

when bathing at night, create a sachet that matches your intent and place in the bath or shower

Glamours

utilize energy from venus and pluto for beauty and transformation but also neptune for illusions, mysticism, and confusion

anoint the containers of beauty and hair products with venus (beauty) or pluto (transformation/metamorphosis) water/oils/herbs

leave the item you wish to cast a glamour on under the full moon

charge a talisman with the effect you wish to have on others and wear when you go out for the day

add pluto water/oils/herbs and moon water to a bath for a full body glamour (write your intent with bath crayons on the tub or shower wall for an extra boost)

create an energetic shield over yourself in which the outside mirrors what you want others to perceive of you

Goal & Wish Manifestation

write your intent on a bay leaf and burn it

turn your intent into a sigil and store it in a jar filled with herbs or other items that represent said intent

place a written description of your goal or wish in the center of a crystal grid using stones that are associated with manifestation and power

place a coin in moon water while focusing on your wish or goal (leave container under direct moonlight overnight so that it may charge)

light a candle whose color matches your intent and while focusing on your goal or wish, blow out the candle

add a catalyst to your spell

use energy from mars (power) or jupiter (luck)

Personal Power & Effects

create or enchant a talisman that represents your intent, charge it, and wear it on your person

add herbs that are associated with personal power to a ritual bath

create a potion from herbs associated with power and drink in the morning for a boost during the day (think caffeine)

use a catalyst in the aforementioned activities

utilize whichever planetary/cosmic energy you see fit

Warding

sprinkle a mixture of protective herbs around the perimeter of your home while walking clockwise

leave protective crystals at each corner of your space

hang a protective amulet above the door to your space; wear a protective amulet for personal protection

create a protective witch bottle and bury near your front door

plant herbs or flowers that are associated with protection outside at each corner of your home

draw a protective sigil or symbol on the outside of your front and back door with saturn or protective water/oils

hang witch balls or a witch’s ladder near your front door

create an energetic shield and place over yourself, your loved ones, or your entire home

Wealth, Prosperity, & Luck

craft a money bowl and place it at the farthest left point away from the entrance of your home

involve mercury or jupiter in your spellwork (luck, money)

anoint candles with mercurial or jovian oils and/or herbs and burn on wednesdays or thursdays (ruled by mercury and jupiter)

use prosperity/luck runes or craft sigils to carve into candles

on the first of the month, you can do the following: say "rabbit rabbit" for good luck all month and let that be the first thing you say when you wake up; blow powdered cinnamon into your front door from the outside or place a cinnamon stick above your front door for prosperity

craft a crystal grid using prosperity/lucky crystals - where you place it is up to you

Please be wary: - of putting essential oils directly on the skin or on items that your skin may come in contact with - of leaving crystals in prolonged sunlight (might fade) or exposed to liquid (might dissolve, might become toxic when dissolved) - of blowing cinnamon into a home or using incense that has pets, or humans with respiratory issues - ingesting/burning/touching herbs/plants/etc. that you are not familiar with (could be toxic, could affect the efficacy of your prescribed medications, could be harmful for pets or other members of your household)

compiled from my personal grimoire & based on my personal associations & research

© 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 𝙰𝙳-𝙲𝙰𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙰

[wisteriasymphony]

(i wrote our boy being overdramatic @mostmagical @xhanisai @graythegreyt)

---

"Okay, and if everything developed as it was supposed to..." Adrien muttered to himself, slowly taking off the plastic bag he'd wrapped around his hair, "...It should look..."

Adrien studied his reflection in the mirror. He was right; It did look. BAD.

He went to fish the box the hair dye came in out of the trash, just to check for sure. Indeed, they looked nothing similar: The box showed what looked like a subdued strawberry blonde, and the mirror showed an orange that wouldn't be out of place in a construction zone.

"This is fine," he said to himself, gritting his teeth. "...Nothing washing some of the dye out can't fix."

So, Adrien bent over his bathroom sink and began to scrub at his roots like his life depended on it, because in that moment it felt like it very much did. Buckets and buckets worth of bright, kindergarden-crayon-orange seeped into the sink's drain, until it finally gave way to an only slightly better highlighter-orange shade of runoff dye.

After that good 5 minutes of "fixing it", Adrien looked back to his reflection in the mirror. No change, aside from his mouth falling open in abject horror.

"Oh god, no no no no—"

Looking to his hands brought him no comfort, as they now were stained just as orange, like he was the Lady Macbeth of shoving his hands up a jack-o-lantern's ass. And just as Lady Macbeth experienced, no amount of scrubbing would rid his hands of the "damned spot"—one which covered the entirety of his palms and fingers.

A squeaky voice echoed from behind him—One who'd clearly been watching this spectacle the entire time. "Looks like you missed auburn big ti—"

"YOU'RE NOT HELPING!" Adrien shouted back, letting the sink still run—the dye wasn't even willing to part from its ring around the drain, it seemed. Adrien nearly buried his face in his hands, before he stopped himself from spreading the horrid disease further. "God, my father's going to come back from the dead just to kill me for this. —I can't go out looking like this!"

"Luka Couffaine goes out with dyed hair all the time."

"Luka Couffaine does not look like a fucking papaya, Plagg!" Adrien collapsed over his sink, debating whether or not this mistake was worth taking up teenage alcoholism. "I can hear it already.... I'll be called 'Orange Boy' for the rest of my life..... I just wanted to not be blonde anymore, and look at me," he whined, "I'm a disgrace!"

"At worst you look like a fruit!" Plagg replied. "And everybody already knew that about you."

If Plagg had shoulders to grab, Adrien would have done so, just to violently shake him. Maybe rub off some horrible mango-colored hue on his body too, just to impart upon the kwami some of his misery.

"...God," he lamented. "I have to tell Marinette... Warn her about what I've done to myself."

[quillpokebiology]

got any garbodor facts?

Garbodor Facts

-The scientific name for Garbodor is "Cunicum refusum" which roughly translates to "refuse rabbit"

-Scientists have had a lot of trouble figuring out what Trubbish/Garbodor are, but they had recently come to the conclusion that they could be a primitive type of fungus. If this is true, this makes them somewhat related to Weezing

-Garbodor are most commonly found on large cities. The Garbodor population hub is Nimbassa City I'm Unova. Their population is what is able to keep Nimbassa City clean

-Garbodor have no type of diet and will eat pretty much anything. Don't feed them alcohol though, they can get drunk. DON'T GIVE THEM ALCOHOL, I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE TO SAY THIS

-Despite having teeth, Garbodor don't even need to chew their food. They just inhale it. Their teeth are instead used for battling

-Because of their bad stench and "less-than-appealing" appearance, many people dislike Garbodor and some cities have tried to get rid of them all together. But, Garbodor are important parts of the ecosystem because they consume far more trash than any machine ever could. Getting rid of them would lead to more trash-filled cities and would smell far worse than any Garbodor

-Galar hates Garbdor. Always has. Unlike Nimbassa City, who will have wild Garbodor or Garbodor owned by the city pick up trash, Galar instead has Garbodor hanging around the wild areas eating the scraps that people leave. It's sad, and there have been groups trying to raise awareness on the good Garbodor can do and they are making progress, but many people are still against it due to their smell (my mom would always feed a shy Garbodor that came by our house. I never got close to her because I thought she smelled bad, but I'd play catch with her. I miss her. She's still alive, she's just 2 regions away)

-Garbodor's poison tubes are prone to getting clogged with their gunk. This can lead to sweating, tube pain, heart pain, headaches, and drowsiness. Luckily, due to how common it is, Pokemon Center's are able to drain all the clogged gunk out within a day. If your Garbodor has clogged tubes, please take them to a center

-No, you can't wash away Garbodor's stink. Them being in water is okay, but using soap can actually damage their skin. Don't take them swimming either, they can't swim and will just sink

-Garbodor most often lay their eggs in old boxes or plastic bags. The ones on Galar will instead dig holes in the ground to lay their eggs there. They don't stay with their young, and Trubbish will instead hatch with the first hatch being the biggest and taking care of their younger sibilings

-Garbodor have a natural rivalry with Muk, with the ones in Alola often getting into disputes over food

-Despite their large and intimidating appearance, Garbodor are peaceful mon who will only attack when threatened

-It depends on the Garbodor, but a lot of them secrete weird gunk on their skin from all the trash they consume. Sometimes it's toxic, sometimes it's not. Either way, I recommend petting them with gloves because it can be gross

[friendly-neighborhood-imbecille]

Dpcaw24 day 3: Bleeding out in an alleyway

Danny Phantom/American Dragon: Jake Long

AO3 FFN

While going to take the trash out to the dumpster, Jonathan Long finds something unusual on the ground in the alleyway.

Fic under cut

It was Monday at the Long household, and that meant trash night. Since his lovely wife Susan had been the one to cook dinner that night, it was Jonathan's job to clean the kitchen. And of course, that meant it was his job to gather up all the trash bags in the kitchen and take them down the alleyway to the shared dumpster. Or at least, he thought it was shared. They had been putting their trash in it for five years, so if nobody had gotten onto them by now about it, that probably meant they were fine.

It was kind of chilly out tonight. Not that he was complaining though. Sure, it meant that they’d have to start bundling up soon, but it also meant that all the best holidays were coming up. In not too long he’d have to find a costume to wear and get the spooky decorations out from storage. Wouldn’t that just be a treat! And then he could get out the candy pot and make some of his famous (in his family’s eyes anyway) caramel apples! But he could worry about all that later. Right now he just had to focus on making sure he didn’t trip on anything on his way to the dumpster.

He really wished he had done this before the sun went down. During the night, this alleyway was as dark as the devil’s nostril. But at least this way they’d be getting rid of all the trash collected that day instead of having any left over. And since they’d be empty already, maybe he could scrub down those trash cans. They were probably due for a good wash.

He made it over to the dumpster without tripping on anything and whistled as he swung the bags up and into it. He turned to go back home, but something on the ground caught his eye.

There, lying in a puddle of green liquid next to the dumpster, asleep with his face against the wall, was a teenager. Small little guy, probably around Jake’s age if he had to guess. “Heya kiddo, I don’t think this is the best place to take a nap.”

The kid didn’t move one bit. Jonathan crouched down to the ground next to him. He wondered why a kid was out here asleep on the ground. Did he not have a safe place to stay? Why choose to sleep here of all places?

“Kiddo?” He reached out to shake the kid awake by the shoulder, but quickly yanked his hand away. It was like he had just dunked his hand into Lake Louise in January. “Holy cow you’re cold.”

He shook the kid’s shoulder again. He was starting to get real concerned. It just wasn’t normal for anyone, teenager or no, to be this difficult to wake up. And then there was the temperature thing. “Kiddo, wake up.” Still no response. Something was very wrong here, he could feel it from his liver to his bones. He flipped the kid over onto his back, revealing a gaping wound on his chest.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph!” Jonathan jerked back, his heart was beating a million miles a minute and his stomach felt like it was training for a gold medal in gymnastics. He was startled so badly that it took him a minute before he was able to realize that the blood coming out of the kid was bright green, just like the puddle around him.

Jonathan put a hand on his chest and started to slow his breathing. “Okay, wow. Okay.” He pulled himself off the floor and brushed the dirt off of his clothes. “Oh that just about gave me a heart attack. This is just a movie prop isn’t it. Well that’s absolutely terrifying.”

He studied the thing, taking in its whole appearance. Out of curiosity, he crouched down in front of it again. The white hair didn’t look plastic, and when he touched it, it felt almost real. Upon closer inspection, he could see the baby fat on its cheeks squish down where its face lay against the floor, its eyebrows had a real sense of depth to them and didn’t look painted on, and there was an unmistakable rise and fall to its chest.

“Pretty realistic prop huh, It almost looks like, like it’s breathing.”

“Oh my gosh.”

[afrogmentioned]

The Invitation

Itadori Yuuji, a young Japanese-American man, finds himself without a family after his grandfather's death. Despite his strong bond with his friends Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara, he reconnects with his long-lost family through a DNA test. Unfortunately, they see an opportunity where he sees a family.

wc: 1,024

ship: sukuita

characters: Yuuji, Megumi, Nobara, (Choso, Sukuna, Uraume -> not here yet)

notes: creating my JJK tumblr and balancing my fics (1) here before posting again (fingers crossed)

PART ONE: SALVATION

CHAPTER ONE: ALONE NO MORE

The tag of his white shirt was rubbing against Yuuji's nape, he should have cut it before leaving his flat he thought for a while. The little piece of fabric was slowly getting on his nerves, and the fundraiser kept on going as if it would never stop. He almost sighed as he went past a woman in what was probably a month's worth of his salary. Yuuji smiled and showed the tray he was holding: 

“Beef carpaccio?” He offered the woman. She looked him up and down and ignored him.

Yuuji kept walking through the crowd. One man got close enough to smell him and recognizing the sweet honeyed scent of an omega, he winked at him. Yuuji almost barfed in his mouth. He looked back at the bar where Nobara was filling the champagne glass, looking as if she wanted to open her wrists with a broken flute. Yuuji chuckled and kept asking around him if people wanted to eat beef carpaccio. One woman didn’t even turn and shushed him as she watched whatever CEO talking about his company's annual growth. He couldn’t wait until this was over.

Megumi was already in the kitchen putting food in plastic containers for them to take home. Yuuji almost begged him to leave the beef carpaccio out of his, he couldn’t even handle the smell of it now that he had carried a tray of raw meat the entire evening. Megumi’s tips were on the table waiting for Yuuji’s and Nobara’s, they would slip the total amount into three, and sometimes, depending on their finances, one of them would get a bigger cut to be able to pay their rent.

Nobara opened the doors to the kitchen and sighed loudly before trashing her heels. She fetched the tips from her pockets and slammed the money on the countertop. Yuuji started counting when a small bag dropped in front of him and another in front of Megumi:

“I managed to snatch three of them,” Nobara grinned. “I think there is wine in it.”

“Drunkard,” Yuuji teased still counting the bills.

“Ass, You’re letting me sleep at yours as an apology.”

Megumi snorted before he closed the last plastic container and handed it to Nobara. He pocketed his share of the tips and turned to face Nobara: 

“I got one ass grazing,” he said matter-of-factly. Nobara whistled.

“Boobs ogling, I’m not mad I’m pretty sure I got bigger tips because of it.”

“One ass squeeze and a couple of rude sniffs,” Yuuji smiled from where he stood.

“Fucking alphas,” Nobara sighed.

In the end, Megumi and Nobara slept at Yuuji’s, they knew it was his birthday. Even if he didn’t say anything, Yuuji felt relieved to spend the evening with them. It was only his second birthday since his grandfather had passed, and last year had been miserable, Yuuji was determined to spend a better one this year.

Toothbrush between her teeth, Nobara opened his bathroom door and poked her head into the living room:

“Whot wash it about twuday?”

“Some kind of genealogy tree with DNA,” Megumi answered speaking fluently mouthful Nobara.

“I shink there is a free techt in the bags.”

Yuuji looked in his gift bag and found a small bottle of white wine, chocolates and plastic wrapping which would change his life forever. A house kit DNA test. Megumi was staring at him from his side of the couch: 

“You wanna try?” Yuuji asked.

“Nah, got enough disappointing family members with my dad, I don’t need more. You?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuji hesitated. “It’s just, it’s always been my grandad and me. And now I feel kind of alone, I know I have you guys but sometimes I just want to know where I came from and stuff, what was the deal with my family,” Megumi didn’t answer for a while.

“It’s your decision Yuuji, you’re more my family than my dad, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Yuuji answered slowly eaten by guilt. Megumi was his family too, and Nobara too. But sometimes, in the loneliness of his flat, he couldn’t be sure of his place in the world.

“Dude, do the test, maybe you’re an heir to a big family or something. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a test,” Megumi added. “I don’t know how it feels to be alone, to have no one to call family. I got my mom’s side and Tsumiki. What I want to say is: do it if you want to.”

“Thanks,” Yuuji mumbled. Megumi wasn’t always the most articulate, it probably took a lot from him to say all of that. It felt like a lot to Yuuji. “You’re like a brother to me, you know that?”

Megumi didn’t answer but he smiled at him and dropped his head against Yuuji’s shoulder. Nobara went to sit on the other side of Yuuji and dropped herself over him, she had probably been listening to them. She smelled of mint toothpaste and Megumi of the caramel candies he had been eating. Yuuji sighed, slowly he felt his shoulders relax and the nagging headache he had had for a while receded. It felt like a home. Like a family. He enjoyed it, tomorrow his flat would be cold and empty.

Yuuji dropped the DNA test in the mail. It was just a stupid test like Megumi said. It didn’t mean anything and it would probably not show any result. For all he knew he was a simple Japanese-American man whose family had immigrated in the late nineteenth century. He probably had estranged cousins or no one at all. Determined to forget all about it Yuuji went back to his normal life as a waiter and artist. He focused even more on his tasks in order to have his brain focus on something else than refreshing his ancestry page. He didn’t talk about it with Megumi or Nobara too happy to spend time with them when they could meet up. Until one evening, when he was cutting the cucumbers to make tzatziki his phone beeped. 

Congratulations

You have one (1) DNA match!

Masterpost

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