#I'm not letting anything get in the way of my enjoyment of that

[roseofhybrids]

there's something I've been thinking about recently, and tonight seems like a good enough occasion to talk about it

back when I was in therapy, every session my therapist would ask the same question

"What is something you're looking forward to this week"

The first time she asked that, I just figured it was a part of getting to know me as a new patient. Building rapport and trust and such. But when she repeated it every time I spoke to her, it made me wonder why she'd ask that specific question every time

Well, after thinking it over for a while, I think the reason she asked that is because it's really important to have something to look forward to regularly in life. Even if it's something small, as long as it's something you can find a little joy in See, nearly every time she asked me that, my answer would be that I was looking forward to my weekly DND game. It wasn't something too grand, just me and a few others messing around for 2 hours on roll20. But I felt happy when DMing for them, it wasn't much, but it still something that brought a little bit of fun every week

I feel like that's a critical part about staying alive on the day to day. Your life doesn't have to be filled with every day excitement like you're living a wealthy influencer lifestyle in order for you to carve out a bit of happiness for yourself

Like I said, it can be something small. Maybe it's DND games, maybe it's seeing the new episode of a show you like air, maybe once a week you let yourself order a pizza or eat out, maybe you and some friends get together to a watch a movie. Could even be that you just set aside a few hours where you can do something you like, literally anything as long as it brings you some enjoyment. Just a bit of time when you don't have to be productive and working and worrying about everything

I know the idea of doing something just for yourself can feel selfish, like you're wasting precious time. Especially with everything that's going on in the world, it can make you feel guilty for letting yourself find joy when some many others are suffering and in danger

Take it from someone who spent the latter half of their schooling dealing with dysthymia, self harm, and constant panic and anxiety attacks. Feeling nothing but misery 24/7/365 will help nothing. Depriving yourself of any positive emotion day in and out will fix nothing. All it will do is land you in either the grave or a mental hospital, and you certainly won't be able to help anyone from either of those places

If you want to help others, you'll have to be able to support yourself first. And that means not letting the stress of being alive build up to the point of crushing you under its weight. Take an hour or two every few days to let yourself truly breathe and relax. Think of it as fortifying your self for what's to come. You'll need some way to maintain your strength through the storm if you ever want to see the other side of it I'm not saying to ignore the bad parts of life, just don't ignore the good parts either. Even if you have to make those good parts with your own hands Eventually, the world will get better. But that will take time, so you will need to work to ensure you are around long enough to see it

This week, I'm looking forward to the new Dandadan episode, and going to get my new dog his name tag This month, I'm looking forward to making Thanksgiving dinner and getting to have some turkey and pumpkin pie Next year, I'm looking forward to starting a project that I've been thinking about for months

What is something you are looking forward to?

you don't gotta tell me it if you don't want to, just make sure you have one

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

I genuinely, GENUINELY do not understand the hate this scene is getting. I've had this exact interaction with partners before? That's a fond 'you're an idiot, but you're MY idiot, try not to stay up all night' exasperation, not dismissiveness. Like--there are thousands and THOUSANDS of fics at this point where the central point of the story is that Buck finally gets someone who fusses over him and takes care of him when he's sick/injured, in exactly the manner that Tommy did. I have read most of them with my own eyeballs. We've been saying we want Buck to be loved and taken care of and made a priority by his LI for years, why are you complaining that we're getting it?

(I know why)

It’s important to note that Tommy never told Buck to shut up during his ramblings, only to go to bed because he needs rest if he wants to heal. He didn’t make Buck feel bad about his hyper fixation, he only reminded him that he needs sleep. It’s just really nice way to have a partner there for him without putting him down for Being Buck.

[caramelteaa]

Thinking of two absent fathers on the qsmp

I'm talking about Wilbur and Quackity. I know they can't log on due to being busy irl but I would still call Q a bad dad while refusing to call Wilbur that(without hesitating at least he's an ok dad to me). Wilbur canonically writes letters to Tallulah even if they may have stopped reaching her. He put Tallulah under Phil's care knowing he would take good care of her(especially with her tending to fall behind others). In all the clips I've seen of Quackity and Tilin. Yes, he loves them but there are also so many instances he didn't stop to read her signs, being distracted by other stuff or people, telling him that the adults are talking(no I'm fine with him taking her to drink it's normal on this island). To this day I still wish her custody were given to Roier and Jaiden, growing alongside Bobby, who dislikes Quackity for making her upset

[ronanlynchbf]

sisterhood of the...sisterhood of the hunting heart necklace 🥴😖🤐....

[buggachat]

legitimate question ....... why do people like to tell me all the reasons they don't like miraculous ladybug? i know i complain about the fact a lot, and i find myself on the defensive a lot, and i keep telling myself i'll stop and let it go, but it really is hard when people are always coming onto my posts, in my replies, in my comments, on my art and my fics and my text posts and anything i make, and telling me blatantly all the ways that they don't like the thing that i so blatantly find enjoyment in. "the show is bad". okay? good for you? why are you on my post about it? why don't you make your own? why are you telling me, specifically, this, on the art/fic/analysis i made that i assume you found by searching through the tag?

it's kind of a behavior that i legitimately don't understand. I'm a human being and I hate a lot of things, too. there are things i've loved at first and been disappointed by and have strong opinions about. there are things i like to complain about. so i'll complain about them to my friends or my family or my cat. but i have never, once, not even for a single moment, thought, "oh let me go into the tags of this media, find a positive post about it written by someone who's having fun with it, and make it that random stranger's problem". never once.

i just don't get it. i really don't get it. i sometimes worry that i come across like i'm heavily critical of people who just personally don't like the show, when really i'm just trying to defend my interests to the droves of strangers who are always coming specifically to me to tell me all the ways they hate the thing that makes me happy.

just.......... why? where does the urge come from? what do you get out of this?

[darlingbabyboo]

The Fluffy Life of Dating a Delinquent

Tokyo revengers boys and the little things they do (that I want because I'm lonely lol)

Warning: extreme fluff, just Tokrev characters being in love with you

Mikey is the type to buy snacks for you, no matter what. It doesn't matter what time of day it is, he's got some food for you too. He's calling you at 3am in the morning and telling you that he got you some chips, can he come over. He thinks sharing food is the best way to share love and well, he's right ❤

Izana will know everything about you. Your favourite colour, your favourite places to go, what you like to watch. Honey, he got you. You're his assignment and he's passing with an A+. He's the best person when you're sad because he knows exactly what to do. He can cheer you up in five minutes, tops.

Draken is so protective of you 😭. He knows he's well-liked and he's got an entire brothel, might as well take advantage of it. He wants to take care of you, and he knows you need boundaries and space sometimes but he lives a bit of a dangerous life, he needs to make sure you're taken care of. If someone actually got a scratch on your head he's killing them. No questions asked.

Hakkai didn't come from the best family. After the death of his mother, everything kinda fell apart. That's why he wants to start new traditions with you. Getting take out every Friday, matching accessories, whatever it is. He considers you family and he can't wait until you two pass down these traditions to your children.

Baji names cats after things related to you! Your favourite things to eat, do, whatever! Anything that's remotely related to you, that's the new name of the cat! Has given cats pet names that he usually uses for you, sometimes it's a bit confusing, but it's more so endearing.

You can say all you want about Kisaki but no one can say that this man isn't your biggest fan. You're the only one in his eyes but you're also the best. You got no competition but you're also destroying your competition with the twitch of your finger. Ain't it nice, to be someone's one and only 😆

Ran's ideal date is a sleep date. You two watching a movie on the computer, cuddled together under the blankets. He lasts half the movie but it's worth it because he has his hands on your waist and chin on your shoulder. He says he's not a cuddler but his grip on you is like iron, he will not let you move.

Mitsuya will fit you into his schedule no matter what. He's got two younger siblings and a Hakkai to take care of but he always has time for his baby. Yeah, he has three late assignments, five new outfits to make and grocery shopping to take care of, but please tell him about your day. Will take a break from what he's doing for his beautiful baby.

Might not look like it, but Benkei has the best hugs. You guys see him latting Shinichiro's head, now imagine those big strong hands wrapping around you. He's so warm and comforting, his hugs are meant for a higher power. Even if he's strong, he's incredibly careful around you. Big strong men being delicate for you despite their strength 🤤

Rindou makes mixtapes for you. You're always on his mind and when you're on his mind, he just makes a playlist for you. You and him probably share a Spotify account at this point with the amount of playlists dedicated to you. And they all have the same sappy titles 'to the Love of my Life'.

You ever see someone looking at their partner in the picture instead of at the camera. Yeah, that's Shinichiro. He knows that he was lucky to get you, and he's in awe that you still choose to be by his side. Now, the only time he smiling is because he's looking at yours 😁

Cooking together, the best and tastiest love language around. Fits that best boy, Angry has it! Will make your faves, and he HAS to learn food from your culture. He likes going on picnic dates because he can show off his skills to you, and he loves hearing your enjoyment (and you're the real winner with how delicious everything is). You two cook together. Though if you're one of those who are a mess in the kitchen, Angry's just happy to see you enjoy things he made. Pls praise him though, he won't say it but be revels in your praise. Your words are everything to him ❤.

Takemichi is loyal to the end. Don't worry about this boy lacking, he's here for you. He could be in a room of models but the only one he's got his eyes on is you. You're #1 to him 🥰

If you hate someone Chifuyu hates them even more. You say something bad about someone once, he despises them forever and wants to sell their soul to Satan. He will not forgive and he will not forget. He loves you and he will never get other people who don't feel the same.

Wakasa would quit smoking for you. The minute you cough around him, he's throwing his cigar away and replacing them with lollipops. No matter how much he might miss them, your lungs are more important 😙

Those things that you're obsessed with that no one else really cares about? Kakucho will erase those worries, easy. He doesn't mind your ramblings, encourages them. Will keep it all in his mind and remember them so he can participate deeper with things. Your interests are his interests hun!

Kazutora loves spontaneous dates so much. And he makes sure that you two go on them often. Wants to make sure that your relationship never weakens so he loves being around you, and the best way to be around you is doing your favourite things! He will sneak you out if need be so you two can have a picnic in the moonlight.

You need some support, good thing Sanzu offers it unconditionally. Going from things like you needing help on wash day to you needing to cover up a body, your bae's got your back. He might not enjoy doing everything, he's just a tad bratty, but no matter how loud he's complaining throughout, he still gonna do it!

Smiley will defend your honour! He hears some bitch talking about you, he won't let that slide. Blood will be spilled. Someone got something fun to say about your heavenly skin, he gonna kill someone. He's like Draken if Draken was an unhinged gremlin. He will beat someone up and then look at you with a smile on his face like, are you okay precious?

All your dreams of drowning in a strong man's clothes (that's a fantasy we all have, right?) are fulfilled with Mucho. He's so much taller than you (and if not, he's got muscles for days) so whenever you steal some of his clothes, you swim in them. It's a beautiful, comforting, amazing feeling.

Atsushi is the kind to learn how to braid just for you! He knows that going to a barber is expensive so he's got your back. He's doing goddess braids for you, cornrows, whatever you desire. And if you're not a braid person, well good thing he can learn how to!

Shion's pet names are ridiculous! Will call you baby cakes all the time and then start calling you pumpkin the next day. Is he doing this because he's stupid yes but he also likes to see your little smile. All he wants is your goofy little smile 😘

Takeomi is a planner, always, and you're always going to be part of his plans. When he's talking about the future, you're going to be part of it. It's so sweet how casual he is about it, you two will just be laying down in his bed holding hands and he'll be mentioning how good you'd look with a ring on your finger.

Hanma is secretly a romantic. He's an adrenaline junkie in the end though, so he spins things to an insane degree. Sneaking up a ferris wheel and kissing you under the moonlight, telling you to skip school so you guys can watch the sunrise and sunset, skinny dipping at the beach! If it's a bit too much, he gotchu. He's fine with both of you just hanging out on your bed or chilling in the bath. He's not your typical love interest, but he's surprisingly understanding and sweet 😍

Can y'all tell how deprived I am 😭. Also, not proof read because I'm lazy!

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

asking without shame.. SOL NSFW HCS PLEASEEE 🙏🙏

Sehnsucht (Sol x MC/Reader - NSFW HCs)

I see you horny motherfuckers in my Sol HCs likes, don't think you can hide from me silly billy. <333

Anyway, you're in a established relationship with Sol, so rejoice.

The smutfic will be out after my exams are done, I'm only clearing my inbox currently.

T.W: NSFW content, if you already read this from the title, congrats, you have basic reading comprehension skills.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Sehnsucht: a German noun translated as "longing", "desire", "yearning", or "craving".

---------------------------------------------------------------------

This man is very. Fucking. Horny.

He even jacks off to you nightly. <33

Will try and smash literally whenever, he doesn't care.

He was born solely to please and pleasure you.

And he's going to do whatever it is you ask of him.

He's a sub.

No. Not that sub, foodies come back here when you've eaten thank you.

A very subby sub.

Mf will whine if you pet him.

Like it's pathetic, you look at him a certain way? He's a beetroot.

Say something? Heh, he's on the verge of asphyxiation <3.

Do something sexual to him? He'll moan.

And he'll be embarrassed out of his fucking mind.

But you don't care, you want him to moan, to whine and whimper for you.

Which is usually why you end up not sleeping most nights, you're too occupied edging and overstimming the guy (he likes it, he likes everything you do to him tbh just make him feel inferior to you).

Tease his cock, just slowly caress it and he'll start begging you to let him cum in about 20-30 seconds.

Loves being babied secretly, although will only make it obvious in the bedroom.

His skin is cold, which is why you're in charge of warming it up via fucking the literal life out of him.

He'll cum easily dw, unless you want a challenge.

Sol's wicked strong, so he can dom very easily and quickly if he's in the mood for it.

When domming, he'll very rarely be cruel to you, only time he'd ever not be gentle with your gaping holes is because you made him jealous.

Then you're gonna get railed.

You don't have a say in that, you're gonna walk funny for the next few days.

Would also be down for dehumanisation.

He has a pet play and scent kink so you could just yank him on a leash and he's gonna be sopping.

Make him sniff you, lap at you, maybe even bite you, and he's gonna be fucking losing his mind.

Not like he already hasn't but anyway-

Essentially. Just anything you do, any way that ends up with him inside one of your holes is good enough for him.

Sol is horny. All the time. And you better get used to it, because while he can handle not railing you, he will eventually turn to somnophilia again.

If you consent to letting him fuck you when you're asleep he'll be softly moaning the whole time. And you fall asleep to the soft symphonies of his whines. Sometimes even wake up to them.

[jeoseungsaja]

A ball of fog expands into the air after a trembling breath takes place; long fingers of one hand latched onto tubes painted aquamarine. The other hand is busy fiddling with what rests in his breast pocket, making sure, for the nth time, that the small box is still there, ever so present to the point that it's left a temporal dent on the fabric of his shirt. Teeth bite on his bottom lip --- once, twice; enough to leave an edge of mouth with a small peel which represents nervousness.

He doesn't even remember the last time he was with these many knots in his stomach; a collection of butterflies and twists alike, finding a home in the ever so chaotic depths of the detective. Hyuk takes another deep breath; grabbing his cellphone and glancing at the last text message received from his dear friend ('I'll be there').

It hasn't even been that long since the last time they saw each other; his brain still replaying that last meeting at the beach, when the calendar marked his birthday and his best friend etched a new feeling into his heart. It was brief but undeniably dulcet (and unconsciously wanted, too, that he figured out with time) moment; where time sweetly froze and he was able to decipher, with surprise and warmth, how well the lines of Patrick's lips matched his.

Oh, boy. Just thinking about it sends spirals of temperature up his neck. He truly hasn't been the same ever since --- in a good way. Even his co-workers wonder why he's been more lenient than usual. And, well...whatever this might be, he likes it. Just as much as he likes him. Patrick.

Regardless of feelings bubbling up, this isn't much about putting those puzzle pieces together (they will fall into place with time, won't they?), but about a special occasion; a special day: His best friend's birthday; a mark Hyuk never misses, no matter where he might be or what he's doing. It's why he's decided to take, once again, a plane all the way to Europe --- because a videocall won't do, nor a text message with those exasperating emojis that the detective can't even use properly. Patrick deserves more than that, and he can argue all he wants; Hyuk will not be convinced otherwise.

And so he's here, asking Patrick to see him at the London Bridge, at the time where is dark enough for the towers and rails to lit up and reflect their lights upon the dancing waters. It's a way to reminisce the past, about those days where they'd escape social events just for them to walk all the way here; about those days where Patrick would talk about the stories written behind the bridge and Hyuk would listen intently; about those days where they'd laugh and chat whilst living their adventures of youth.

It's a way to reminisce the past. And connect the present. Much like the bridge links one point to the other.

He waits, patiently so, actually. Knows that Patrick barely gives time for himself even when being a special occasion; prefers to carry on with his endless duties as a responsible professor and doting father. That's Patrick Myungdae Grace for you: A gentleman who often puts loved ones first before even thinking about his own self.

After a few minutes, Hyuk hears hurried steps on the humid ground; such a sound making him turn at once. There he is; the tall man with the kind face and soft eyes, a few strands of hair being blown by the biting, Londoner wind. He looks beautiful as ever, especially when his eyes crinkle due to a smile pulling his lips.

The detective's heart is singing. Loudly. He almost feels his rib-cage is going to explode.

Before Patrick could possibly voice any kind of apology about being a few minutes late (Hyuk doesn't care --- he just cares that he made it in one piece), an impulse makes Hyuk throw his arms around his best friend to wrap him into a tight, affectionate hug; the type only Patrick gets (otherwise Hyuk is too emotionally stiff, as some say). When he pulls away, his fingers remain clasped onto his dear friend's forearms, thumbs unconsciously rubbing the space there as a grin stretches his mouth.

"You look tired. Have you eaten anything? Don't tell me you're only running on tea and the birthday breakfast Hiro and Elise made you--" He scowls, before his features slowly turn softer. "I...wanted us to meet here because I thought...maybe we could, walk a little and..uh...eat at that place we used to go to...when we were younger. The one with fish and chips? I checked and they close until late---"

Since when is he a rambler? He stops himself, awkwardly clearing his throat whilst hands slip away from Patrick's body. "Oh," he quickly goes to fetch the box he's been guarding all this time and hands it to his dear friend. It's small, long; dark green. "For you. I also...wanted to see if they fit you right, could you...open it to check?" Hyuk tries to not rush Patrick into opening the gift, his fuse very short in comparison to his dear friend's. Once it's open, a pair of Rubik's cube cuff links is found inside. The little cubes even twist some, in case Patrick needs a distraction while wearing them. Of course Hyuk had to get them for him.

"Let me," Hyuk grabs one of the cuff links and then takes a careful hold of Patrick's wrist; turning it so his palm is exposed. At first, the detective's focused on putting it on, eyes even narrowing as to look at the shirt's hole under the shadow of artificial lights. But then, he realizes how close he is, how Patrick's wrist is exposed to him even if the rest of his shirt hugs his arm effortlessly. Suddenly, he can feel his heart in his throat and there's the need to---

Just do it, Lee Hyuk. For once, follow that voice. And he does it. He gently kisses the center of Patrick's wrist.

Even if heat crawls all the way to his cheeks, he pretends that what he did is casual; fingers stumbling a little but finally managing to keep the cuff link on place. "There. It--It looks nice. Let's see the other---" And he does the same thing: grabs the cuff link from the box, and then his dear friend's wrist.

He kisses that one, too. The mark tender. A honeyed whisper of utter affection. I'm here. I'll always be here. For you. Just for you.

A clear of his throat; a little, bashful side-smile as the detective attempts to gain his usual composure and peeks to see Patrick. He doesn't apologize for what he did, nor does he try to quickly change the subject. There's no ounce of regret in that body of his and, besides...at this point, that wall where the awkwardness of sentiment was stored is slowly but surely crumbling down, isn't it?

Slow but steady steps.

"I--also got you another thing, but I'll...give it to you until we get to eat." A rainbow fountain pen, that's neatly wrapped in the oh so famous newspaper wrapper he uses. It's saved in the pocket of his trousers; awaiting for the right time to fall onto Patrick's hands.

Hyuk's hands, which rested right under Patrick's wrists, move so they can meet his dear friend's shoulders. He pats them, then pretends to accommodate the lapel of his shirt, when in reality he's getting his palms ready to climb up. And they do, rise and a little timidly; fingertips daring to reach his dear friend's face. The detective's fingers are calloused, but his touch tries to be soft; caring --- loving.

He gives him a smile. One that, he hopes, tells Patrick how proud he is. Of him, his best friend (and something more). Of who he is, who he's become. And how he still holds gentleness and mercy by his hand, despite it all.

"Happy birthday, Dae-yah."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MOST WONDROUS PROFESSOR @ofgentleresolve 🥺🎂

[eamour]

a manifestation routine.

! long post ahead !

in this post, i want to give you an idea of how a manifestation "routine" could look like. i'm aware that this is one of my longer posts but i wanted to give as many insights and as much reassurance as possible. it’s a guide especially for those, who need a bit guidance, who may have come off track a little and who want to discipline themselves a bit more.

morning and evening.

right before you wake up or fall asleep, lay down on your bed and close your eyes. try to calm your mind, loose any tension built up in your body and take deep breaths in and out. with your eyes closed, pay attention to the darkness you're seeing. everything around you doesn’t exist for now. the outer world is none of your concern. your responsibilities fade away and in this given moment, there is nothing that needs to be worked on, nothing that needs to be fixed, nothing that needs to be dealt with. right now, it’s only you in this darkness. you are safe. you are protected.

now, think about it: what is it that you want? what is it that you wish to experience? this isn’t about what you feel like you should want or what you need to experience but rather what YOU deeply want. what would having / being it feel like? what would it look like? what if you had / were exactly what you wanted?

as you become more and more decisive and definitive about who you want to be and what you want to have, you begin to enter the state of the wish fulfilled. you take a step towards the end. you start to bask yourself in the feeling of being the version of yourself who has or is what you desire to have or be. for this, you can visualise yourself or use affirmations that go hand in hand with your desired outcome.

at the same time, let go of your old conception of self. leave your old mindset. right now, you aren’t who you were before you entered this state of calmness. shift your states. go from your former one to your desired one. give life to your new state and death to your old state. abandon the old story. you don’t need it now. you no longer need to retell it. you don’t need to carry it with you anymore.

don’t focus on details. don’t worry about your scenes of visualisation or wording of affirmations. don’t try to make it perfect. don’t question it. and don’t reason your way into it. try to make it natural. try to make it enjoyable. in imagination, you cannot do anything wrong. feel free to imagine any way you would like to. doing any technique without feeling it to be true and without accepting it won’t do anything. it cannot change you. not the technique itself but the feeling will alter self. your visualisations and affirmations shall only support you by guiding you to your desired state. don’t perform anything in vain. do it with purpose. do it with conviction. do it with acceptance. mere repetitions lead to mere results. if you repeat, then do it with feeling. for feeling is the secret.

this way, you become conscious of your new self. and since consciousness is the one and only reality, things can only appear through consciousness. becoming conscious of having your desire means to feel your desire to be yours. by making consciousness your aim, you are aiming to become conscious of BEING and HAVING your desire.

rest of the day.

after you took time to meditate in the morning, you continue to live with your wish fulfilled during the day. whenever you think of your desire, whenever you start to desire something, you claim it to be yours. you declare that it’s part of your reality now. you simply accept it to be true instead of letting your mind wander, overthink or worry. you don’t leave any space for feelings of desire and refrain from living in desire as well. you don’t have to go into a deep meditative state either. you think of it, recognise your desire, imagine it to be yours, feel it to be yours and then go on with your day. this way, you only aim for your inner fulfillment and get rid of any desire that comes up.

you don’t need to force yourself to think of your desire for a very long time, nor do you need to immediately start affirming or visualising a scene that implies you having your desire. what you do is that you take some time, not a lot, to acknowledge your desire and to shift your state from desiring to owning. you do this for as long as you like, until you have accepted your desire to be yours. you will know when you have shifted your state as you won’t feel feelings of desire anymore. you won’t want it anymore because you know there is nothing left to desire that isn’t already yours.

there's no need to constantly bring you back and to remind yourself of your manifestation. the moment you accept it, you can let it go. it’s done now. it belongs to you. assuming your desire to be yours once you think of it is totally enough. you don’t need to obsess over it either.

the more you do this, the easier it will be for you to remain in your desired state. you will get used to the state because you get used to the feeling. it will start to feel familiar to you. it won’t be as difficult as before. it won’t scare you as it did in the beginning.

once in the state, it will become easier to handle the outer world. your thoughts come from your state aka your feeling and if you happen to be in the state you wanted to occupy, you will respond better to 3D circumstances (if there are any). you'll stop viewing your physical world the way you used to and you'll also stop feeling like it’s a lot of work to be in the state of the wish fulfilled. you'll stop viewing the act of shifting your state as effortless. as normal. as natural. you can happily live in the 3D while still experiencing your manifestation from within, giving your inner self what you want. from now on, you will want to identify with your real self more frequently and anything outside of you will lose importance. you won’t care about how the world may look like, you won’t stress about your physical existence. anything that does not serve you will be of little account.

everyday.

the purpose of this guide is to motivate you to make fulfillment your one and only goal. make it a lovely habit to daily manifest your desires. do it each day.

do not waste time contemplating whether your desires are easy to manifest, quick to manifest, possible to manifest or logical to manifest. stop categorising your manifestations into "big" and "small". do not concern yourself with these matters.

the moment you accept your assumption to be true, it has no option but to materialise. your 3D can never stop reflecting your 4D. you can never run away from your feelings, so why not change them? why not choose lovely feelings for yourself? why not claim great things about yourself? why not immediately grant yourself every wish you have? stop wasting time, conditioning your desires and doubting your abilities as creator of your reality.

within imagination, all things exist and all things are possible. you can be or have anything you'd like in your imagination. it doesn’t have to be hard to get. you don’t need to earn your way to happiness. and you don’t need to work hard for it either. so why would you deny yourself that experience? why would you actively choose not to fulfill yourself? why would you not manifest your desires?

make your imagination a place you love spending time in. make yourself feel feelings of wealth, love, success, health and more. make it so amazing, so addicting that you cannot be bothered or moved by the limitations of the outside world. quoting aphrodite apprentice: "see your desires as invitations to experience something new within yourself and fulfill yourself. and then walk in that fulfillment. just live your entire life in fulfillment."

with love, ella.

[samsmissingshoee]

ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 4

Word Count: 11.9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation, attempted rape, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @m0onlustre, @ve1vet-cake @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglamela, @connorsui @iluvmewwwww75 , @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer @mysssticc @babygirl-panda19 @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1

AN: Bit of a late upload for you night owls and a nice surprise for my early risers! Someone tell me to stop making the chapters longer, thank you LOL. This chapter was a lot of fun to write and I hope you guys enjoy! This is on AO3 as usual! :D

"So… uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert. "Dog? What dog?" he said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question. "You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

Read Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3 Pt.5

Xavier drummed his fingers rhythmically on the glass counter, each tap growing more impatient as the seconds stretched on. His eyes darted around the cluttered store, scanning the shelves filled with everything from worn-out sneakers to high-end dress shoes. The store clerk had disappeared into the back room several minutes ago, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Xavier wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping to find here.

He had strolled in with nothing more than a photo of a shoe print—a faint clue at best—but it felt more productive than sitting idly by, doing nothing while the answers to your disappearance slipped further out of reach. At least this was action, however uncertain.

Was this even a tangible way to find you? Was he grasping at straws, wasting precious time on a hopeless lead?

And the most haunting question of all—were you even still alive?

Xavier squeezed his eyes shut, as if closing them tightly enough could block out the flood of dark thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn’t afford to let his mind go there, not now. Pushing the fear and uncertainty away, he tried to focus on the faint glimmer of hope that had brought him here in the first place. Anything was better than surrendering to despair.

"This is all I could find on it. It's certainly a unique pair," the shop clerk continued, offering a slight smile. "I'm not as technologically advanced as most shops around here, so sorry to disappoint. But, may I ask—why come to my little shop instead of one of those fancy places downtown?"

Xavier took the pamphlet, glancing over the information quickly before shifting his gaze back to the clerk. "Well," he began, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "I heard you were the kind of guy who could identify a pair of shoes just by its print."

The clerk chuckled softly, his weathered face creasing with the effort. "You've been a great help, actually," Xavier added, sliding the pamphlet into his jacket pocket with a nod of appreciation.

The clerk gave an approving nod, the lines of his face softening in quiet satisfaction before he turned his back again, settling into the familiar rhythm of his work. Xavier headed toward the door, the faint creak of floorboards beneath his boots echoing through the small, dimly lit shop. His hand hovered over the door handle, but just as his fingers brushed the cool metal, a nagging thought rooted him in place. He paused, heart pounding slightly as the question formed in his mind.

He turned back, the weight of uncertainty pulling at his voice. "Say... you wouldn’t happen to know where this shoe was originally made, would you?"

The clerk stopped, mid-motion, his hands faltering over a pile of worn soles. The question seemed to hang in the air, drawing out a moment of silence as the man stared down, his brow furrowing. It was clear he hadn’t thought about it in some time. Xavier felt a flicker of hope, unsure if it would lead him anywhere, but desperately clinging to the possibility.

The clerk finally turned, his face thoughtful, his voice quieter now. "Yeah..." he said slowly, as if pulling the memory from a fog. "Last I saw of that shoe, it came from a company based in the... er, N1—no, wait..." His brow furrowed deeper as he worked to piece it together. "N109 Zone. Yeah, that’s the one."

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight Xavier couldn’t ignore. The clerk’s tone wasn’t just casual recollection—it was tinged with something more, like the memory of that particular shoe stirred something deeper. Xavier felt the knot of tension in his chest tighten.

Xavier felt his breath catch in his throat. N109 Zone. The name alone sent a chill down his spine. He had heard plenty about that place—mostly rumors, but enough to know that it was a dangerous, lawless sector. Few dared to go there unless they had no other choice, and even fewer came back with stories worth telling. It was a no-man’s-land, a forgotten corner of land where control was lost long ago. The kind of place where people disappeared without a trace.

His mind raced, piecing it together. If the shoe had come from there... Did that mean you were there too? His stomach churned at the thought. The faint hope he had clung to started to blur with the creeping dread of what fate could have fallen upon you in the N109 Zone.

"You’re sure about that?" he asked, his voice betraying the slight anxiety creeping in around the edges. The clerk glanced up from his work, noticing the shift in Xavier’s tone.

"Yeah," the clerk said, more firmly this time. "I’m sure. That shoe—rare brand—hard to forget. The company folded years ago, but they used to operate out of the N109 Zone. Only place I’ve ever seen them sold."

Xavier swallowed hard, the words sinking deep. If the shoe came from N109, it could be a clue—a dangerous one, but still the only lead he had. He felt the urgency building inside him, a gnawing sense that time was running out, but also the undeniable question of what he might find if he went there.

Could you really be in a place like that? His mind struggled to fill in the gaps, but there were too many unknowns. Were you okay?

"I...appreciate your help," Xavier muttered, his voice thick with tension. He clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to steady his breathing.

"You're not actually thinking of going there, are you?" the store clerk asked, his voice edged with disbelief as he raised an eyebrow. He leaned slightly forward over the counter, studying Xavier with a mixture of concern and amusement. "No offense, but a pretty fella like you doesn’t exactly look like the type who could survive in a place like that. Not really worth the hassle for a pair of shoes don't you think?"

Xavier paused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn’t turn around immediately, letting the weight of the clerk’s words linger for a moment. Finally, he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression calm, almost casual. "I'll be fine," he said, his voice steady, though the tension in his body remained. "I've dealt with much worse."

The clerk blinked, surprised by Xavier's calm demeanor, but said nothing more.

Xavier turned to face the door once again, his hand resting on the handle as he prepared to step out into the cold streets. "Thanks again," he added, his tone carrying a finality that didn’t invite more questions.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed open the door and walked out, leaving the shop behind. His heart pounded a little harder now, not just from the looming threat of the N109 Zone, but from the resolve building inside him. There was no turning back now.

He had a tangible clue—a real, solid lead to your whereabouts. For the first time in weeks, the haze of uncertainty lifted ever so slightly. But now that he knew you were possibly in one of the most dangerous areas anyone could imagine, time was no longer on his side. Every second that ticked by felt heavier, pulling him deeper into the urgency of the situation. The N109 Zone wasn’t just dangerous; it was a place where people vanished, a place where hope died. He had no time to waste, but rushing in blindly would be suicide. He needed a plan.

Stepping into the cold evening air, Xavier pulled the pamphlet from his jacket pocket, its crinkled edges soft from being handled. His eyes scanned over the contents carefully. Make and model—simple enough, not much help now. A detailed diagram of the shoe—useful for recognition, maybe, but not a lifeline. Then his eyes caught something else—a faint address printed near the top. It was partially worn, barely legible, but there.

His heart skipped a beat. An address? Could this be where the shoe was made? Or where it was sold? Either way, it was another piece of the puzzle, and right now, it was the closest thing to a breadcrumb trail he had. He squinted at the faded letters, trying to make out every detail.

If this address was in the N109 Zone, it could lead him right into the heart of the danger. But it could also lead him to you.

His mind raced. First, he needed to confirm the location. Then he needed a plan—something better than just walking straight into the N109 Zone and hoping for the best.

Pulling out his hunter’s watch, Xavier quickly scanned the address printed on the pamphlet. The small device whirred to life, its holographic screen flickering as it worked to process the faint, worn-out text. A soft ding echoed in the quiet street as it started searching for the location. Xavier watched the screen intently, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

The map on the watch blinked, the dot moving erratically across an unmarked, shadowy area. It drifted back and forth, as though even the advanced technology in his hands was confused, struggling to pin down an exact location. Xavier frowned, watching the dot jitter across the screen. His stomach tightened with frustration. Was the address too old? Was it leading him nowhere?

Just when he thought the device might give up entirely, the dot paused. The holographic screen flickered once more, and with a soft chime, it glowed green in confirmation. The hunter's watch had finally locked on to a spot. Xavier stared at it, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. The place it had marked was deep within N109 Zone, tucked away in the heart of the most dangerous, uncharted part of the city.

He exhaled slowly, his mind running through a million possibilities. The watch’s confirmation meant something tangible, something real—but what waited for him there? He couldn’t shake the thought that this could be a trap, a place where the trail might lead to nothing, or worse, to more danger than he could anticipate. But it was also the only clue he had to your whereabouts.

Xavier closed his hand around the watch, feeling its faint warmth through his fingers. He knew what he had to do, but the enormity of it settled on his shoulders. This wasn’t just a simple lead anymore—it was a beacon, calling him into the depths of the N109 Zone. And whatever waited for him there, he would face it.

Because finding you was all that mattered.

As Xavier made his way through the still, empty streets back to his apartment, the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a faint, orange glow across the sky. His mind was already racing, formulating a plan. Gear, weapons,—he’d need everything ready before venturing into the N109 Zone.

But just as he turned the corner, his phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the early morning quiet. Xavier stopped, his brow furrowing as he fished the phone out of his pocket. It was a jarring sound—no one should be calling him at this early hour.

He glanced at the screen, squinting in confusion. The number was unknown, unfamiliar. His immediate thought was Captain Jenna—she was the only one who’d be up this early, possibly reaching out with new intel—but this wasn’t her number.

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Unknown number. His instincts screamed caution. In his line of work, random calls at odd hours rarely led to anything good. The number could belong to anyone—a lead, a warning, or worse, a trap.

But then again, it could be something important—something connected to you. He couldn't ignore the possibility.

Should he answer? The phone rang again, and with each buzz, the knot of uncertainty in his stomach tightened. Whoever it was, they wanted to reach him badly enough to call at this ungodly hour.

With a deep breath, Xavier made a decision and swiped to answer the call. "Hello?" His voice was guarded, careful.

For a moment, all Xavier could hear was silence, a thick void that made his pulse quicken. Then, suddenly, the sound of crackling static filled his ears, distorting the line. He frowned, his grip tightening on the phone. The static grew louder, chaotic, until it was abruptly interrupted by a voice—scared, desperate, and unmistakably familiar.

"Xavier? Is that you??"

His heart nearly stopped.

You kept running until your legs gave out, your breath ragged and chest burning, but you couldn’t stop. Not yet. An hour ago, you had been trapped, bound in your captor's suffocating bedroom, that thick invisible leash tightening around your neck with each passing day, stealing your hope, your strength. Every second felt like eternity in that room, but somehow, with some luck of a power outage of all things, you’d broken out of your cage. You’d ran—bolted into the cold night without looking back.

And now, you were almost free.

But “freedom” wasn’t what you had imagined. The streets stretched out before you, bleak and lifeless. It felt wrong. There was no joy in the air, no welcoming breeze to assure you of safety—only the gnawing sense that you had escaped one cage just to enter another. You recalled something Sylus, your captor, had mentioned in passing.

"Its always 'night' here", he'd said with a small smile, and now you truly realized he hadn’t been lying.

Darkness swallowed the entire area, a thick, unnatural veil over everything. Even though your eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, the eerie, half-flickering streetlights cast only dim pools of sickly yellow across the cracked pavement. The shadows loomed, stretching too far, hiding too much. You shivered, not just from the cold but from the haunting silence that wrapped around you.

The air itself felt thick, as if it was suffocating under the weight of secrets too dark, too dangerous to be spoken aloud. Each alley you passed felt like it was watching you, whispering silent threats from the shadows. Exhaustion clung to your limbs, and you had finally stopped, collapsing onto a broken bench under one of the few flickering streetlights that still worked. The cold metal dug into your skin, but you barely noticed. You were too busy trying to catch your breath, to steady your thoughts.

Where do you go now? You scanned your surroundings again, looking for anything that could offer direction, but the streets were as desolate as before. The same cracked pavement, the same looming shadows. No signs. No people. Just an eerie quiet.

A fleeting thought entered your mind—maybe there’s a train station nearby? The idea seemed almost laughable. Would it even take you to Linkon? And would you even make it to a station without getting caught?

You shook your head, mentally cursing yourself for the thought. Hitchhiking was another idea that crossed your mind—no way, you scolded yourself, brushing off the notion as quickly as it came. You probably couldn't trust anyone here. Not in a place like this. Here, trusting a stranger was as reckless as running blind into the dark.

But what other choice did you have? You couldn’t stay still for long; resting too much would make you an easy target. With a deep, shuddering breath, you forced yourself to stand again. Your legs trembled beneath you, but you kept moving, hoping—praying—you’d find someone who wasn’t out to harm you. Something that could help guide you out of this nightmare. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of fear pressing harder on your chest.

As your bare feet dragged across the cracked concrete, the desperation gnawed at you more fiercely. You were lost—physically and mentally. Each street looked the same, the darkness playing tricks on your eyes. Panic swelled in your throat. How long could you keep going like this? How much longer could you walk before your legs gave out? Before someone found you?

Your breaths came quicker, shallow with fear. You needed a way out, but the deeper you walked into the N109 Zone, the more it felt like the place was swallowing you whole. You were running out of time. Running out of hope.

And then finally, as if the cruel universe had decided to grant you another fleeting moment of mercy, you saw it—a faint glow of lights in the distance. Squinting, you could just make out a corner store, its soft, artificial light spilling onto the cracked sidewalk. A few people were loitering outside, giving the place a rare sense of life. A tired-looking woman clutched her child's hand tightly, and a man stood by, lazily smoking a cigar, his eyes scanning the street in disinterest. A couple of others hovered nearby, exchanging quiet words under the dim streetlight.

You couldn't believe your eyes. A store? Here? In the N109 Zone? It seemed almost surreal, like it had been plucked from another world and dropped into this forgotten wasteland. But it made sense in a grim way. Even in a place like this, people have to eat. Make a living.

With a rush of desperate energy, you hurried toward the store, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The people outside cast looks in your direction, but don't say anything. You stopped just short of the entrance, glancing down at yourself for the first time. You must look insane. A nightgown hung loosely around your body, dirty and torn at the edges. No shoes. No socks. Your hair was tangled and wild from the running. The sight of yourself made you wince in embarrassment, but there was no time to care about that now.

Pushing the door open, you were greeted by a dimly lit but surprisingly ordinary scene. The inside of the corner store looked like any other—aisles of candy, snacks, cheap knick knacks and toys stacked high. It was a stark contrast to the dangerous, shadowy streets just outside. But one sight caught your attention above all: the food.

Your stomach growled loudly, twisting with hunger. You hadn’t eaten since the chicken dinner Sylus had provided before your “outburst.” You hadn't been able to finish it, and now the exhaustion from running had made the hunger almost unbearable. Your mouth watered at the thought of eating, but there was one major problem—you had no gold.

Your heart sank as you stared at the rows of candy bars and instant noodles. How were you going to get anything?

Anxiously, you shuffled toward the front counter, your nerves jangling with every step. When you reached it, you hesitated for a moment, staring at the small bell. With trembling fingers, you tapped it.

A disheveled-looking man, his hair sticking out in uneven tufts, glanced up from behind the counter. He had been glued to his phone, and the interruption clearly annoyed him. His eyes landed on you, and for a brief second, he just stared, taking in your disarrayed appearance before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Can I...help you?" he asked, dragging out the words as if the very act of speaking was a burden.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but your mind raced with too many conflicting emotions—fear, embarrassment, hunger. What could you even say?

"I've been kidnapped," you blurt out, your voice shaky and desperate. You opened your mouth to explain further, to tell him everything—how you had escaped, how you were on the run, how you needed help—but before you could get another word out, the man snorted.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before," he said dismissively, leaning back on his chair with an exaggerated sigh. "Who hasn't been kidnapped at least once around here?"

His casual tone hit you like a slap. The raw urgency in your voice was met with nothing but apathy. Your heart sank. He wasn’t going to take you seriously. You were just another story in a place like this, another desperate face with nowhere to go. You stood there, frozen, trying to comprehend how someone could be so indifferent to your situation.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the frustration welling up inside you. "Please, I'm serious. I just need—"

"Look," the man interrupted, cutting you off again, his eyes barely lifting from his phone. "You want something, buy it. Otherwise, move along. I’m not here for charity cases."

You glanced at the counter, the rows of candy, snacks, and drinks just inches away, knowing you had nothing to pay with. Desperation clawed at your insides. You were exhausted, starving, and running out of options.

"I don't have any gold... do you ha-have a phone?" you asked again, your voice trembling as you blinked back the hot tears threatening to spill. How could someone be so indifferent to the obvious suffering staring him in the face?

"Broken," he said flatly, still not bothering to look up from his phone. His disinterest was like a physical blow. "And… gold? What are you, some Linkcunt citizen?"

The venom in his words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Linkcunt citizen? The insult was harsh, dripping with disdain, and it sent a sudden wave of anger rushing through you.

"Yes, I’m from Linkon," you correct, the frustration and fear bubbling over into your voice. "What’s with the attitude? What did I do to you? I'm asking for help!"

He finally looked up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t friendly. It was mocking.

"What did you do? Nothing. That’s the problem. Linkon folk come down here thinking they’re better than everyone, tossing around their fancy gold and expecting the world to hand them everything." He shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt.

"You want help? Then you’d better figure out how things work around here real fast, princess. No one's gonna hand you anything for free."

You felt your fists clench at his words, the anger mixing with a deeper sense of helplessness. You hadn’t asked to be here. You hadn’t asked for any of this. And yet, standing in this grimy corner store in the depths of the N109 Zone, it was clear that no one cared about your suffering. Not here. You weren’t in Linkon anymore.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to calm down, swallowing the anger rising in your throat. Getting into a fight with this clerk wouldn’t help you, not now. But the bitterness of his words lingered, and you realized just how alone you truly were in this place.

Silently, you turned your back to the greasy man behind the counter, his words still echoing in your mind as you began to walk up and down the aisles. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of hunger, thirst, and sheer exhaustion pulling at you. Your stomach growled, gnawing at your insides, reminding you just how long it had been since you'd eaten.

But something else gnawed at you too—something that made your skin crawl with discomfort. You hadn't changed your pad for hours, and now the sticky, damp feeling clung uncomfortably between your legs. The sudden realization hit you, a wave of disgust washing over you as you winced.

Swallowing hard, you glanced over toward the feminine hygiene aisle. Rows of necessities lined the shelves—pads, tampons, basic supplies—just out of reach. You stared at them, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't just food you needed now. You couldn’t go on like this.

But you had no credit cards. No way to purchase anything. Nothing.

Your eyes flicked back toward the front of the store, where the disinterested clerk sat, still engrossed in his phone. He wasn’t paying attention to you. He didn’t care. Nobody here did.

You felt a knot tighten in your throat as the harsh reality of the situation settled in. You had to steal. There was no other choice. You hated the thought of it—hated how low it made you feel—but survival wasn’t a matter of pride. Not here. Not now.

Your fingers trembled as you looked back at the shelves. You knew what you had to do.

The clerk still wasn’t paying attention, his face lit by the glow of his phone. His indifference might be your only saving grace. You could do this—quickly, quietly, and then you’d be gone.

With shaky hands you reach for a plastic bag that had fallen on the ground. The bag felt like a shield, something to hide the weight of what you were about to do. You didn’t think twice as you moved toward the feminine hygiene aisle, knowing you couldn’t walk any further in your current state. You reached for a pack of pads, your movements slow and deliberate. Your heart pounded in your chest, loud enough that it felt like the entire store could hear it.

Next, you hurried down the snack aisle, grabbing a few protein bars, a small bag of chips, and a bottle of water, all of which disappeared into the bag as your pulse raced in your ears.

You glanced toward the counter, your body tense with anxiety. The clerk still hadn’t looked up, completely absorbed in his phone. The faint, unmistakable sound of pornography drifted from his speakers, making your stomach churn in disgust. You twisted your face, feeling a wave of revulsion wash over you, but you couldn’t afford to stop now.

He was utterly oblivious to your frantic movements, his attention locked on the screen, but that didn't ease the gnawing sensation in your gut. Every step felt like you were tiptoeing across a minefield, a ticking clock counting down to disaster. Even though he wasn’t watching, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was.

With the bag now heavy in your hands, you made your way toward the exit, each step carefully measured, your breath shallow as you fought to keep calm. The distance between you and the door seemed endless, as if every inch stretched into miles. But finally, your trembling hand closed around the cold metal of the handle.

Your heart raced as you crossed the threshold, bracing yourself for the inevitable—a shrill, deafening alarm that would shatter the silence and expose your crime to the world. You waited for it, your breath caught in your throat, ready to bolt at the first sound.

But nothing came.

No alarm. No piercing siren. The only thing you could hear was the frantic beating of your own heart as the door swung shut behind you with a quiet click.

For a moment, you stood there, frozen in place, not daring to move. The cool night air brushed against your skin, grounding you in the eerie quiet. The world outside the store felt impossibly still. It took a few seconds for your brain to register that you had made it out—unseen, unheard.

You swallowed hard, keeping your head down as you hurried past the few patrons lingering near the store. Their eyes followed your every step, and you could feel their gazes crawling over you, judging, curious. Did they happen to care, or did you just look that insane?

The woman with the child pulled her daughter closer as you passed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. The man smoking his cigar gave you a long, leering stare, as if trying to figure out what your story was. The others whispered quietly among themselves, but you couldn’t make out the words, nor did you want to. You kept walking, willing yourself to be invisible, but the tension in the air made your skin prickle.

Once you were a safe distance away from the store, you ducked down an empty alley, the shadows wrapping around you like a cloak. The world outside was still bleak, the flickering streetlights casting only the faintest glow, but here in the quiet, you finally had a moment to breathe.

You found a relatively clean spot, tucked behind an old dumpster, and set the bag down beside you. Your hands shook as you reached into the bag for the pack of pads. The discomfort and itch between your legs had grown unbearable, and the relief of changing, even in such a grim place, was something you couldn't put off any longer.

Quickly, you adjusted yourself, wincing at the feeling of the old pad peeling away. You worked fast, knowing you couldn’t linger here for long. Once you were done, you felt a small sense of relief—at least one problem had been solved.

Next, you pulled out the snacks. The hunger was still clawing at you, and the sight of the protein bars and chips made your stomach ache even more. Tearing into a protein bar, you ate quickly, barely tasting the food as you devoured it, desperate to fuel your exhausted body. The bottle of water came next, and you drank it down in large, gulping swallows.

For the first time since you had escaped, you felt a flicker of calm. It wasn’t much, and it wouldn’t last, but here in this dark corner, with food in your stomach and a small bit of comfort, you allowed yourself a brief moment to breathe.

But the quiet didn’t last. You knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. You had to get moving at some point or Sylus would find you. This place was unforgiving, and survival demanded more than just temporary refuge.

Tucking the remaining items back into the bag, you sigh in satisfaction, glancing around to make sure no one had followed you. The streets were still empty. For now, you were alone. You had survived one more step in this nightmare, but you knew it wasn’t over yet.

Some time passes and you can slowly feel yourself falling asleep against the dumpster.

As you crouched in the dim alley, trying to fight off exhaustion and gather your thoughts, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. Slow, steady, and casual, accompanied by a faint, off-key whistling. You stiffened, instinctively pulling the bag closer to your chest.

The footsteps stopped just a few feet away, and then came the voice—low, cautious, but curious.

"Hey, you okay?"

You glanced up warily, your eyes landing on the figure standing at the mouth of the alley. He was tall, maybe in his mid-thirties, with shaggy, unkempt brown hair that fell just above his eyes. His clothes were worn—faded jeans and a jacket that had seen better days—but he didn’t look like the rough types you usually imagined when you thought of the N109 Zone. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked casually into his pockets, but his sharp, dark eyes were fixed on you, a flicker of concern—or maybe something else—dancing behind them.

His face was hard to read. He had a slight stubble covering his jaw, giving him a rugged, almost tired appearance. His lips quirked in what might’ve been a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at you—like he was curious, but also sizing you up. Not in an aggressive way, but in a way that made you wonder why he’d stopped to talk to you at all.

"Are you... lost?" he asked, stepping forward slowly, the whistling tune dying in the air. His voice was softer now, almost as if he was trying to be gentle, but his presence made the space around you feel even smaller.

"What happened to your arm?"

You swallowed hard, trying your best to keep your gaze on him. You had honestly completely forgotten about the scar on you arm. As much as you wanted to explain, every instinct screamed to stay wary. This wasn’t a place where strangers helped out of kindness, and you knew better than to trust easily. But as exhausted and desperate as you were, you weren’t sure if you could afford to push away help, even from someone who might have their own agenda.

"I—I need help," you stammered, your voice shaky, barely managing to push the words past your tightening throat. Your body trembled, a mix of nerves and exhaustion leaving you on edge. You hugged the bag tighter to your chest, every muscle in your body tense. "But... don't come any closer just yet."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression shifting, though he made no move forward. He stayed where he was, his hands still in his pockets, the dim streetlight casting long shadows on his face. For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with tension as he watched you.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice calm and even, though the curiosity in his eyes never wavered. He tilted his head, taking in your ragged appearance with a deeper interest. "No problem. I’m not here to scare you. Just trying to figure out what you're doing out here all alone."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. You needed help, but trust was a dangerous thing in a place like this. Still, you were running out of options. Your mind raced as you tried to decide what to say next.

You hesitated, your mind racing as you weighed the risks. Could you trust him? Telling the truth might make you vulnerable, but lying wouldn’t get you far either. You had to say something—anything—to explain why you were here.

"I was kidnapped," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Your voice wavered, a tremor of fear running through you as you spoke. "I escaped… I don’t know where I am. I just need to get somewhere safe and rest so I can get home later."

The man’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He studied you, eyes narrowing as if trying to assess whether or not you were telling the truth. His silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, making your heart pound faster in your chest.

"You’re serious?" he finally asked, his tone more subdued now, almost disbelieving but not dismissive. He took a small step back, showing that he wasn’t going to invade your space. "You really got away from someone?"

You nodded, the tension in your body still coiled tight, waiting for his reaction. You couldn't tell if he believed you, but you hoped—desperately—that he wouldn’t press too hard or turn you away.

The man stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning your face, as if trying to read the truth in your expression. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his posture softening just slightly.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but firm. "If you're telling the truth... then you’ve got bigger problems than just being lost."

He glanced around, checking the street behind him as if making sure no one else was nearby, then he looked back at you, his face more serious now. "You can’t stay out here. This place— the N109 Zone—it’s not somewhere you want to be wandering around alone, especially if someone’s looking for you."

You felt a shiver run down your spine. You already knew the N109 Zone was dangerous, but hearing it from him made it feel even more real.

"Look," he continued, his voice softening. "I’m not gonna hurt you. If you need help, I can take you somewhere safer. But you’ve gotta trust me, and you’ve gotta move quick. If they’re after you, it’s only a matter of time before they find you out here."

He waited, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to see if you’d accept his offer—or run.

You hesitated for a long moment, scanning the man’s face for any sign of deceit. His expression was calm, almost unnervingly so, but something about his demeanor made you feel that, for now, you didn’t have much of a choice. If he meant harm, he could’ve acted already. Swallowing hard, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’ll come with you.”

He nodded in return, offering nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgment before turning and motioning for you to follow. "My place isn’t far. You can rest there, maybe clean up a bit. It’ll give you a few hours before you have to figure out what’s next."

You fell in step behind him, your bare feet quiet against the cracked pavement. The streets were eerily silent, save for the occasional distant hum of passing cars. You hugged the bag closer to your chest, still tense but too tired to think about running. As you walked through the dim streets, a question lingered in the back of your mind.

"I'm surprised you stopped to help me," you finally said, your voice tentative. "Most people here…they wouldn’t have even looked twice."

He glanced back at you, barely breaking stride, and shrugged. "I’ve seen worse things in this place. Trust me, a girl lost in an alley isn't the strangest thing I’ve come across." His tone was casual, almost detached, as if this was just another day in the chaotic world of the N109 Zone.

His nonchalance unnerved you. Why was he so calm? Your anxiety spiked for a moment, thoughts racing. Maybe you had made the wrong choice. Maybe he had his own agenda, like everyone else in this place. But then again, he hadn’t tried to harm you. If he wanted to, he would've done so. You weighed your options, feeling the tug of paranoia, but exhaustion and desperation had their hold. You pushed the doubt aside. For now, you decided to trust him, even if only for a few hours.

As you walked in silence, the two of you eventually came across something you hadn’t expected to see: an old, grimy phone booth, its glass cracked but still intact, standing at the edge of a corner. A relic from another time, long since forgotten by most.

Your heart skipped a beat. A phone. You might be able to call Xavier.

"Do you have any… uh, quarters?" you asked, your voice tight with desperation. You hadn’t thought about it before, but now it seemed obvious. Linkon City had long left behind the need for such old currency—everything there was digital, clean, modern. But here, in the N109 Zone, where everything felt stuck in time, of course they still used quarters. It made sense in this broken-down world.

He stopped, watching you for a moment before sighing. "Yeah, hang on." He fumbled in his pockets for a few seconds, fishing around with a slight look of annoyance. After a bit of clattering, he pulled out a few quarters, handing them over to you without a word.

Your hands trembled as you took them. This could be your chance—your lifeline. You stepped inside the booth, hoping that the old machine would still work, and stared at the dirty receiver.

You stared at the old rotary dial for a moment, panic rising in your chest. You tried to remember how it worked as you slipped the coins in the slot. It had been so long since you’d read about one of these—everything in Linkon was sleek, touch-based, connected by the web. But here, in this forgotten part of the world, you were holding a piece of the past. The process felt foreign, archaic.

Your mind raced, desperately trying to recall Xavier’s number. What was it? You racked your brain, images of his scribbled phone number from messages, fragments of conversations, all blurred together. The numbers danced in your head as you tried to piece them together.

Your heart pounded louder, matching the beat of the seconds slipping away. You were running out of time. With a trembling hand, you began dialing the numbers, trying to focus on every movement, praying you’d gotten it right.

The dial clicked as it spun back after each number, the mechanical sound unnervingly slow. The receiver crackled in your ear as the phone began to ring.

Please, Xavier... please pick up.

The ringing felt endless, each second a heavier weight pressing on your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the receiver tight. The noise around you seemed to fade into the background as you waited, hoping, praying that on the other end of the line, he’d be there—ready to hear you, ready to help.

The phone rang again... and again.

Your breath caught in your throat, a prayer hanging on the edge of each ring.

"Hello?" A timid, cautious male voice came through the receiver, muffled by the crackling static, but it was unmistakable.

Relief crashed over you like a wave, and you nearly collapsed right there in the grimy phone booth, your knees buckling as the sound of Xavier's voice reached your ears. After everything—you finally had a connection to him. Tears welled up in your eyes, your breath shaky as you clutched the receiver tighter.

"Xavier!! Xavier, thank god!" you cried, your voice raw with desperation. "I don't even know where to start..."

But after your outburst, only silence greeted you. The line crackled, sputtering with age, the static drowning out whatever response might have come. Frustration surged through you as you gripped the receiver, shaking it in a vain attempt to clear the line. You banged the phone against the booth, biting back a sob as the interference persisted. This thing must be older than you thought. How could it fail you now?

Finally, the crackling stopped, leaving only a tense, quiet hum on the other end.

"Xavier? Is that you??" you asked, your voice trembling, barely holding back the panic. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing this fragile connection—this one thin lifeline.

The line crackled for a moment before Xavier’s voice came through, steady and calm, but with a layer of unmistakable relief.

"It’s you…," Xavier said, his voice soft but firm, as if he’d been holding onto hope for so long that hearing your voice felt like a lifeline. "I’m so glad you’re alive. Are you okay? Where are you?"

The sound of his voice sent another wave of emotion crashing over you. You sob, your body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t alone. He had been looking for you, and now, he was coming.

"Xavier…I was kidnapped," you sobbed, the words finally breaking free, the fear and terror of the last few days pouring out. "I escaped. I’m cold, hurt and scared..."

His response was immediate, his tone both calming and steady, as if he was trying to comfort you even from miles away. "I’m here now. I’ve got you. Just breathe, okay? I’m coming for you. I just need a better idea of where you are."

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep it together, but the tears threatened to spill over. "I don’t know where exactly… all I know is I’m in the N109 Zone. I found a phone booth near a corner store. Everything around here looks abandoned."

There was a brief pause on the other end as Xavier processed the information. "Alright," he said firmly. "Stay there, I'll try and track the location of the phone booth. I’m on my way. Just… hold on a little longer, okay?"

"I—" you hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the man who had helped you. "I actually found a really nice man. He’s letting me rest at his place. He hasn’t hurt me at all, so don’t worry. He says his place isn’t far from here. I’ll come back to the phone and give you the details after I see it."

Xavier’s voice tightened slightly, the concern clear. "I don’t like the sound of that. Just… be careful. I’m coming as fast as I can. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, alright? If anything feels wrong, leave. Fight like hell if you need to."

"I will," you whispered, gripping the receiver tightly. "Just hurry, please."

"I promise I’m coming," Xavier said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He paused, just for a second, before continuing. "One more thing though—do you remember who took you? I’ll need a name, in case…in case I don't find you when I arrive. I don’t want to lose you again."

Your heart raced as memories of your captor flashed in your mind. "Yeah! His name is S—"

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for an additional 3 minutes," the automated voice cut in sharply, drowning out your words.

Panic surged through you. The call had abruptly ended, the receiver in your hand now silent except for the monotonous prompt asking for more coins. You frantically searched your pockets, but you had no more quarters.

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for—"

You screamed, the frustration boiling over as you kicked the phone, the clanging metal reverberating through the phone booth. Your hand gripped the receiver so tightly your knuckles lost circulation, and with a final surge of anger, you thrashed against the booth, the tears you’d been holding back now streaming down your face.

"Xavier!?" you yelled into the dead line, your voice cracking with desperation. He had to hear you. He had to. But all that came through was the cold, indifferent tone of the automated voice, endlessly repeating its demand for more quarters, as if mocking your panic.

You slammed the receiver down, the booth suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. Every second that ticked by was a second lost, a moment Xavier might not know who had taken you, might not know how to find you.

With a deep, shaky breath, you stepped out of the booth, blinking away the tears.

"Do...you have any more quarters?" you ask, more tears threatening to spill from your face at any moment now.

The man outside the phone booth shifted awkwardly and shook his head, his eyes flickering between you and the dark street. He had watched you from the moment you’d rushed into the booth, but now, as you sobbed, his discomfort was clear. He took a slow step forward, clearing his throat, but didn’t say anything at first, unsure of what to do.

"You, uh... you okay?" he asked finally, his voice soft but uneasy. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing around as if he wasn’t used to being in such an emotional situation.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to calm your breathing, but the tears kept coming. The overwhelming frustration of losing the connection with Xavier left you feeling exposed and helpless. You didn’t know what to say to the man, couldn’t find the words to explain the weight of everything crashing down on you at once.

He hesitated, then sighed, taking another step closer. "Look, uh… if it’s about the call, I’m sure your guy’s coming. Sounds like he cares. You just... you know, gotta hang in there. We’ll get to my place soon, and you can rest."

His words, though clumsy, were an attempt at comfort. But even as he tried to reassure you, his uncertainty showed in the way he avoided your gaze, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle someone breaking down in front of him.

You sniffed, nodding slightly, feeling drained from the outburst. "Yeah… yeah, I’ll be fine," you muttered, wiping your face with the sleeve of your nightgown, though you weren’t sure you believed it.

The two of you resumed walking, your steps slow and heavy as you sniffled, trying to hold back the tears that still threatened to spill. The man walked beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets, glancing at you now and then with an awkwardness that was hard to miss. He wasn’t saying much, just occasionally looking around as if he wished there was something more he could do, but he seemed completely out of his depth when it came to comforting anyone, let alone a woman on the verge of breaking down.

"You’ll, uh, feel better once we get there," he mumbled, his voice low and sheepish. "It’s not much, but at least you can get some sleep. Maybe eat something."

You nodded, biting your lip as you fought to compose yourself, trying not to let your emotions overwhelm you again. The air between you felt thick, filled with unspoken words and awkward tension. He kept glancing at you as if he wanted to say something more, but each time, he swallowed the words, guiding you quietly through the darkened streets.

The city around you was eerily quiet, the desolation of the N109 Zone even more pronounced in the silence. The flickering streetlights barely illuminated your path, casting long shadows that stretched across the cracked pavement. You hugged your arms close to your body, your mind still reeling from the failed call, but you focused on just putting one foot in front of the other.

The man cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "I’m… not really good at this kind of thing, you know," he admitted, his tone awkward, almost apologetic. "But you’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it."

You nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak. His words were clumsy, but there was a strange sincerity in them. Despite his unease, it seemed like he really was trying to help, even if he didn’t quite know how to do it.

As the silence stretched on, the weight of everything hanging between you, you glanced at him through the dim light. His awkwardness, his uncertainty—it was all so clear. But despite everything, he had helped you. He had taken you in when you had nowhere else to go. Given you the last of his quarters. You swallowed, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

"I didn’t catch your name, by the way," you said softly, your voice still a little shaky.

He blinked, as if surprised you’d asked. His steps slowed for a moment before he gave a small, awkward shrug. "Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I didn’t say." He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the ground as he seemed to search for the right words. "It’s Reese," he finally muttered. "Not much of a name, but it’s mine."

You offered a small, tired smile, your voice soft. "Reese… thanks for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—" You stopped yourself, the weight of your situation pressing on your chest again.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah, well… I’m no hero. Just didn’t seem right to leave you out there. Not in a place like this."

As the two of you walked in silence, Reese cleared his throat, glancing over at you with a bit more confidence than before. "So… what’s your name? Figured if we’re gonna be walking together, I should know who I’m helping."

You hesitated, your heart racing slightly. Trust wasn’t something you could afford so easily, not here, not now. Despite his awkward attempts to help, you weren’t ready to give him your real name. Better to be cautious, you reminded yourself. You forced a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady.

"It’s...Mephisto," you said, the lie rolling off your tongue before you could second-guess it. You had vaguely remembered Sylus calling out the name to someone from outside the door, to who you weren't sure. One of his men probably.

Reese nodded, seemingly taking your answer at face value, no suspicion in his expression. "Alright," he said, giving a half-smile. "Nice to meet you Miss Mephisto, despite the strange name."

You nodded back, feeling the weight of the lie settle inside you. It wasn’t much, but it gave you a small layer of protection—just in case. You still didn’t know Reese’s full intentions, and trust here could be a dangerous thing.

"Nice to meet you too, Reese," you replied softly, glancing around the darkened street.

After what felt like an eternity of walking through the dark, desolate streets of the N109 Zone, you and Reese finally reached his place. The house stood at the end of a narrow alley, tucked between two crumbling, abandoned buildings. It wasn’t much to look at—dingy, with peeling paint and windows that seemed to have long lost their clarity. The front door sagged slightly on its hinges, the wood scuffed and weathered, as if it had seen better days a long time ago.

Reese unlocked the door with a bit of effort, pushing it open with a low creak. Inside, the air was stale but warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside. The place was small, cluttered, and dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. The furnishings were old, mismatched, and worn—a threadbare couch sat in the corner, covered in a faded blanket. The walls were bare except for a few crooked picture frames, and the carpet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Still, despite its grimy appearance, there was a strange sense of comfort to the place, like someone had lived here for a long time and had made it home in their own way.

"You can sit over there if you want," Reese said, motioning to the couch. "It’s not much, but it’s better than the streets."

You nodded, stepping inside cautiously. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details—the scuffed coffee table with a few empty bottles on it, the stack of old magazines piled up against one wall. It didn’t scream danger, but you couldn’t shake the wary feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Something about the whole situation made you uneasy. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the smell of old dust, or just the lingering doubt about trusting someone so easily in a place like this.

Still, exhaustion weighed heavily on your body, and the promise of rest—any rest—was too tempting to ignore. You sat down on the couch, the worn cushions sinking under you, and pulled the bag of pads closer to your chest. Reese seemed harmless enough, but you reminded yourself to stay on guard. You weren’t out of danger yet.

Reese busied himself, tossing a few items around to clear space, but the house remained eerily quiet.

As you settled into the couch, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible, a sudden noise from the backyard broke the uneasy silence. It was faint, but distinct—a thud, followed by the faint sound of something shuffling or dragging. Your heart leapt, and you sat up a little straighter, your eyes darting toward the back of the house.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice tense as you turned to look at Reese.

He froze for a split second, the calm, awkward demeanor you’d come to expect from him faltering. His eyes widened slightly, and he gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, that?" he said, his voice higher than usual. "It’s just… my dog. Yeah, he’s in the shed out back. I forgot to mention him earlier."

You watched him closely, feeling the tension spike in the room. There was something off about the way he said it, the quickness in his tone as if he were scrambling to come up with an explanation.

"Your dog?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady, though doubt gnawed at the back of your mind.

"Yeah," he said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. "He’s old, doesn’t like people much, so I keep him out there. No big deal."

His words didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing his response, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. The uneasy feeling from earlier returned, stronger this time, creeping up your spine.

"Right," you muttered, still watching him carefully, but you decided not to push further. Not yet.

"Um... coffee?" Reese blurted out suddenly, his voice still laced with that nervous edge. He offered a forced smile, clearly trying to redirect the tension hanging thick in the air. He rubbed his hands together, glancing toward the small, cluttered kitchen. "I could make us some. Might help, you know, after everything you’ve been through."

You hesitated, still on edge from the strange noise outside and his quick, jittery explanation. Something didn’t feel right, but you weren’t sure if pushing him now would help or only make things worse. You forced a smile of your own, your mind still racing with questions.

"Sure," you said quietly, your voice flat as you tried to calm your nerves. "Coffee sounds good."

Reese nodded, too eagerly, and moved toward the kitchen, fumbling with an old coffee pot. The clattering of cups and the rush of water filled the silence, but your mind was still focused on that noise outside. A dog in the shed? It seemed like a weak excuse, but you didn’t know him well enough to push it.

You leaned back into the couch, the worn fabric sinking beneath you as your eyes drifted toward the back door. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that maybe Reese wasn’t telling you everything. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. You were exhausted, but you couldn't let your guard down.

Reese finished brewing the coffee after a few moments, bringing it over to you in a green, cracked mug. You took it from him with a polite smile, setting it down on the coffee table untouched. The steam curled up from the cup, filling the small room with the faint scent of stale coffee. Reese sat across from you, sipping from his own mug, but you couldn’t help but notice how distracted he seemed.

He kept glancing toward the window, then back at his watch, over and over. Each time, his face tensed a little more, as though he were expecting something—or someone. Your wariness only grew.

What is he looking for?

The air felt thick with unspoken tension, and your mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the noise in the backyard wasn’t as innocent as he’d made it sound.

"So…uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert.

"Dog? What dog?" Reese said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question.

"You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence, and then you saw it—realization hit him like a brick. His eyes widened as he turned to look at you, panic flickering across his face.

You sat up straighter, your heart starting to race. He’d lied. And now he knew you knew.

"Uh, I mean—" he stammered, his voice shaky, "I meant, uh, Rex. Yeah, his name’s Rex. Sorry, I’m just… distracted." He forced a weak smile, but the panic was still there, clear as day. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

You shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room thickening with every second that passed after Reese's panicked slip. His eyes kept darting between you and the window, as if something outside demanded his attention. Your pulse quickened as the uneasy feeling deepened. Something wasn’t right, and you knew you had to get out of there.

"I should…go," you said, forcing a smile as you slowly stood up, trying to keep your voice casual. "Y'know... Xavier’s probably found the phone booth by now. I should go back and meet him."

Reese blinked, his expression tightening for a split second. The forced calm he'd been trying to maintain wavered as he set his mug down on the table a little too quickly, the clink of the ceramic against wood echoing in the silence. "Go? Already?" He scratched the back of his neck again, his voice strained. "I mean, it’s cold, and it’s not safe out there… Maybe you should wait a little longer."

You swallowed hard, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. Every instinct told you to get out, but you had to keep your cool. "Thanks for the coffee and everything, but I don’t want Xavier to worry," you replied, taking a step toward the door. "I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse, remember?"

Reese stood up as well, his movements stiff, like he was trying to decide whether to stop you. His gaze flickered toward the window again, and his voice dropped. "Yeah, I get it. But, uh… maybe just a few more minutes. You don’t want to be out there alone, do you?"

You glanced toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The unease that had been lurking beneath the surface now felt like a solid weight pressing down on you. Something was very wrong, and you needed to leave—now.

"No, I’m leaving. Thank you for everything, but I need to go," you said, your voice steady despite the panic bubbling under the surface. You tried to move past Reese, your eyes focused on the door, your heart pounding with the hope of reaching it before things got worse.

But then Reese stepped in front of you, his whole demeanor changing in an instant. "No," he said flatly, his voice suddenly devoid of the awkwardness and sheepishness he’d shown before. His tone was cold, almost emotionless, as he closed the distance between you with startling speed.

Before you could react, you felt it—the cold press of metal against your neck. Your breath caught in your throat, and your body froze as the unmistakable sensation of a gun pressed hard into your skin.

"You're not going anywhere," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. His earlier nervousness was completely gone, replaced by something dark and dangerous. "Sit back down."

Your heart raced, your mind scrambling for a way out, but all you could feel was the sharp edge of fear coursing through you. You swallowed hard, trying not to move too quickly, knowing that with one wrong step, things could spiral even further out of control.

"Reese… please," you whispered, barely able to keep your voice from shaking. "You don’t have to do this."

His eyes flickered with something—anger, desperation—but his grip on the gun didn’t waver. "Just sit down, and no one has to get hurt."

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but for now, all you could do was comply and hope that Xavier was still coming for you.

"I promised them a girl..." Reese muttered, his voice trembling slightly, though the gun still pressed firmly against your neck as you looked up at him from the couch. He glanced away from you, his guilt briefly flickering in his eyes. "Then you just... happened to be there. Right place, wrong time, I guess. So...this is how it has to be."

His words hung in the air, cold and final.

"I’m sorry," he added, though there was no comfort in his apology—just a hollow attempt at easing his own conscience.

Your breath hitched as you tried to process his words, the full weight of the situation crushing down on you. He wasn’t just some awkward guy helping you out of kindness. He had been waiting for someone—anyone—to fill a promise. And you had walked right into it.

As you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, the cold barrel of the gun pressed against your neck, the door creaked open. Another man stepped into the room. He was taller than Reese, with a thick, rough appearance—his face shadowed by the dim light. His eyes swept the room, landing on you, taking in the situation with a detached indifference.

"Is this the girl you promised?" the man asked, his voice low and gruff, as if he’d been through this kind of scene too many times to be surprised by it. His gaze shifted briefly to Reese, then back to you, narrowing with interest.

You felt a chill run down your spine as his question hung in the air.

Reese didn’t move the gun from your neck, but you could feel the tension in his body shift as he glanced over at the man, clearly nervous about his arrival. "Yeah, this is her," Reese replied, his voice tight. "I just… need a few more minutes to get her to cooperate."

The other man stepped closer, his boots heavy on the floor. His eyes raked over you, cold and calculating. "No time for that," he said flatly. "Get her in the basement. You know how this works, Reese."

Your pulse quickened, fear gripping you tighter as you looked from one man to the other, your mind spinning with panic. What were they planning? You needed to find a way out, and fast, before things escalated even further.

"You’re making a mistake," you said, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay calm. "Someone’s coming for me. If you don’t let me go, it’s going to get a lot worse for both of you."

As the weight of your words hung in the air, you weren’t even sure who you were referring to in that moment—Sylus, the man who had kidnapped you in the first place, or Xavier, the one coming to save you. Both names were tangled up in your desperation, your mind too frantic to distinguish between them. All you could do was hope that the threat would ring true, that it would be enough to make Reese think twice.

The taller man smirked, clearly unimpressed. "We’ll see about that," he muttered, turning his back toward the door to pull up the carpet, leaving you alone with Reese and the gun still pressed to your neck. You watch as a metal trap door with a handle is revealed to have been hidden under the carpet and you gasp.

Instinct kicked in, and without thinking, you twisted suddenly, using the brief distraction in Reese’s hesitation to try and break free. You shoved his arm away with everything you had, knocking the gun off balance. For a moment, you thought you had a chance, adrenaline flooding your body as you fought with all the strength you could muster.

"Let go of me!" you screamed, thrashing and kicking as hard as you could. Your elbow connected with Reese's side, and he let out a sharp grunt, but his grip tightened. His face twisted in a mixture of frustration and fear, and he fought back, grabbing your arm and wrenching you toward him.

"Stop it!" Reese growled, struggling to maintain control, but you weren’t going down without a fight. You kicked at his legs, but his hold on you only grew stronger.

The door to the basement creaked open, and before you could react, the taller man reappeared, grabbing you by the other arm. His grip was like iron, and between the two of them, they overpowered you. Your heart pounded as you screamed and clawed, your feet scraping against the floor, but the force of their combined strength was too much.

"No! Please—" you gasped, trying to twist free, but they dragged you toward the open door.

The tall man grunted with effort as they forced you toward the dark, looming stairwell. "Get her down there already," he growled, his tone sharp and impatient.

You struggled even harder, but your muscles were weakening, the adrenaline starting to fade as fear took over. They shoved you roughly down the narrow staircase, and you stumbled, catching yourself against the damp wall. The dimness of the basement swallowed you whole, the air cold and musty. You could feel the fear wrapping around you, tighter with each step they forced you to take.

The taller man was close behind, his heavy footsteps echoing in the cold, damp basement. You felt his rough hand grab the bottom of your nightgown, his fingers curling into the fabric. Panic surged through you as his cold hand snaked across your belly, the touch sending a shiver of disgust up your spine.

You screamed, thrashing wildly against his grip, but his strength overpowered you. The man leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Wouldn't hurt to try her out before the boss gets here..." His voice was thick with lust, and his eyes gleamed with a hunger that turned your stomach.

His hand slid lower, his fingers beginning to snake inside your underwear. You could feel his hard on pressed against your backside. Fear and revulsion took over, and you knew you had to do something—anything—to stop him.

Thinking fast, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, your voice desperate and shaking. "I'm bleeding! I'm on my period!"

The words seemed to stop him in his tracks. His hand paused, the twisted hunger in his eyes faltering for a moment as confusion flickered across his face.

"You’re what?" he muttered, his brow furrowing. His grip loosened just slightly, enough for you to take a sharp breath, your heart still racing.

"I’m on my period," you repeated, your voice trembling. "It’s—it’s bad. You don’t want to do this right now."

For a brief second, his disgusted expression told you that he was weighing his options. The thought of period blood clearly repulsed him, and his hand slowly pulled away from your underwear, his lips curling in frustration.

"You’re lucky," he growled, wiping his hand on his pants, his face twisted with disdain. "But don’t think that saves you."

His hand shot up before you could react, grabbing a fistful of your hair and dragging you across the rough concrete floor toward the makeshift shower installed in the corner of the basement. Your scalp throbbed with each pull, the pain sharpening with every step, but you bit your lip, refusing to cry out.

He threw you against the cold, damp wall, the chill seeping through the thin fabric of your nightgown. You barely had time to catch your breath before he twisted the rusty shower handle. Water burst from the nozzle, freezing and unforgiving.

“So filthy,” he sneered, standing over you as the icy water soaked your clothes, plastering them to your skin. “Maybe this will help?"

The cold bit into your bones, and you hugged yourself, trembling, struggling to stay upright as the water pounded down. He stood there a moment longer, watching with twisted satisfaction, before finally turning away, leaving you shivering on the cold, wet floor of the basement.

Sobbing on the cold, unforgiving basement floor, you shiver, your body pressed against the damp concrete, each breath heavy with despair. The chill seeps into your skin, a numbing cold that echoes the hollow ache inside you. Your tears fall, silent and unnoticed, merging with the grime beneath you as exhaustion pulls you deeper into its grip. In the silence, a desperate wish slips through your mind for someone to save you—anyone, even him.

Though Sylus had stolen you away, his presence now haunts you like a ghost. In this unbearable solitude, even the memory of him feels like a twisted solace. You long for his shadow, for those red, gleaming eyes that once pierced through the darkness, and his stark white hair, a glimmer against the void.

At least he gave you warm baths.

The thought slips through your mind, shame twisting in your chest. How could you even think of Sylus now, when poor Xavier was likely out there, rushing to save you, unaware of the torment you’re enduring? Guilt coils around you, tightening with every heartbeat, yet you can’t shake the cruel comfort of that memory. Sylus, for all the wrong he had done, had never left you to freeze, never left you to shiver and break alone.

Your vision blurs as the weight of everything crushes you, and you can almost see him—an apparition of salvation in your mind. His image flickers, vivid and sharp, as your consciousness begins to fray at the edges. The world slips away, piece by piece, and the cold wraps tighter around you.

The cold water finally stops.

In this fading moment, you cling to that impossible hope, that he, with his red eyes and cold hands, might come for you—if only to save you from a fate worse than death.

[lavenderchqn]

"PILLOWS AND THEIR FORTS"

synopsis — after a day escalates in you being fully deflated, kinich proves you that love comes in more than one way pairing — kinich x gn!reader warnings — minor character having a stereotypical outlook on what love is, a very minor panic attack notes — just a small kinich fic, since I'm enjoying him a lot recently

You stifled a yawn, exhausted at the day you unfortunately had to experience. 

The beginning of a new semester was always rough — dealing with new subjects, professors, or fellow students. Sad to say, what it also came with was… bloody in-person lectures. Combining those with your first practical subjects, you were stuck at university since 8 AM. 

Checking at your phone, you’ve discovered you were almost here for 12 hours. The clock has struck a miserable 7:28 PM. Only twelve more minutes and you’d be free to go home. To your beloved blankets. To your beloved pillows. 

“Earth to my lovely friend!” Your university bestie said, her voice muffled. You noticed her hands waving in front of your face. How did she manage to still feel energised was quite a mystery. 

“What’s up?” You asked, laying your head on your arms.

“Look at the boy I’m trying to get with…” She handed her phone to you, giving you full access to her full dating app conversation. “Quite the catch, dare I say~” 

You hummed, acknowledging her words. Unfortunately for her, your brain was not responsive enough to entertain her situation. “Looks nice, I guess…” 

“I know, right! Not to mention,  he’s such a romantic!!” She tried to further prove her point by all the serenade-like words the guy had sent. 

“I’m happy for you… let me nap now, please…” You closed your eyes, trying to conserve the last bits of your energy. Sadly, that was not doable due to a sudden thunderclap startling you back to full attention. Did it seriously start to rain just now?!

On a day… when you had decided to leave your umbrella back at home? Great, just great.

The lecture soon ended, and slouched people left the classroom trying to find any means of getting home. 

“My soon-to-be boyfriend said he can pick me up!” Your friend jumped in excitement. “Sometimes I pity you for still staying with Kinich, you know?” 

Oh. That was new.

“What do you mean?” You stopped, staring your friend down. What did he have to do with anything?

“You’re too good for him!” Her voice strikes back. “Surely you could do much better with a guy who can prove their love to you!” 

Her attitude was less than enjoyable at that moment. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. That was certainly not the time to have an argument with a friend. Your head was pounding — a cumulative effort of fatigue mixed with your sensitivity to weather. 

“Whatever.” You scoffed. “You’re not the one in this relationship, so what makes you think your opinion matters?” 

With those words, you were off. Into the cold and rain, you went. 

By the time you make it, you’re soaked from head to toe. You sigh as you turn the key to the house. Halfway through your walk back, you remembered that tonight was your turn to cook dinner. Only gods can hope, that Kinich isn’t upset with you.

The moment you step through the door, you’re hit with the smell of a freshly cooked dinner. Did he get so fed up he ordered something? 

You don’t even have time to think, swift footsteps coming in your direction.

“Holy fuck. I knew it started raining, but this much?” Kinich helps you in getting off your bag before heading to the bathroom. 

He’s soon back, with a stack of towels. 

“You’re alright, Love. I’ve got you.” He starts to dry your hair, doing his best not to damage your hair. Your head hangs low — you don’t want your partner to look at your face. It’s hard to even think when tears have joined all the water drops you’re covered with. 

Kinich must know something, as he doesn’t even question your odd behaviour. He dries as much water as he can. “Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?” He asks. 

“Huh?” You finally look at him, confusion in your eyes. “Why would you?” 

“Because,” He flicks your shoulder lightly. “You need a shower before you get sick.” 

With that, he picks you up and carefully carries you to the bathroom. 

“I’m going to get you some warm and cosy clothes for when you’re done.” He sets you down in the middle of the bathroom, in front of the shower. “Once you’re done, we’re going to eat dinner.” 

“A-Alright.

You stand there frozen for a moment once Kinich leaves, staring at the shower, still in a daze from everything that had happened throughout the day. The exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders finally catches up, and you let out a long sigh before undressing and stepping into the warm water.

As the heat cascades over your skin, the tension in your body begins to ease. You let the water wash away not only the grime from the rain but also the stress of the day. You can’t help but think back to your friend's words — her judgment about your relationship with Kinich. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but as the warm water envelops you, you realise how unfair it was to let those words affect you. Kinich was always there for you, always patient, always understanding. Her words didn’t matter. 

After a while, you finally get out of the shower, feeling lighter, though still emotionally drained. You dry yourself off and slip into the cosy clothes Kinich had laid out for you. As you open the bathroom door, the smell of dinner wafts through the air again. Your stomach growls, reminding you that you haven’t eaten much today.

Walking into the kitchen, you see Kinich setting the table. He looks up and smiles slightly when his eyes meet yours. "Feel better?”

You nod, offering a small smile in return. "Yeah, thanks… And sorry for not making dinner tonight.”

“Do I need to flick your forehead harder?” He asks, head tilted looking at your face confused. “I don’t need an apology.” 

“B-but…” 

“Shush.” He hands you the cutlery, before taking a seat himself. “Enjoy the meal, we’re having a cosy night once you’re done.” 

“Cosy night?—“ You turn around to look at the living room. 

There’s a pillow fort there. Fully fortified, oozing with pure comfiness.  

You stare at the pillow fort, blinking in disbelief. Kinich, always full of surprises, had somehow managed to set up the cosiest little corner of the living room while you were in the shower. Soft blankets draped over chairs and an assortment of pillows arranged perfectly. 

“You did all this while I was showering?” you ask, your voice soft with awe.

Kinich chuckles as he takes a bite of his food. “Sure did. Figured you could use a bit of comfort after the day you’ve had. Plus, we haven’t had a good pillow fort night in ages.”

Soon after,  the meal comes to an end. You both clear the table and Kinich gestures toward the fort. “Fort time?” he asks with a grin.

You nod eagerly, following him into the living room. The fort is even cosier up close, with a pile of your favourite snacks and a movie queued up on the laptop nestled inside. Kinich climbs into the fort first, patting the spot beside him, and you quickly follow, snuggling into the soft pillows as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

For a while, you both just sit there, the warmth of the fort and his presence surrounding you like a shield against the outside world. The rain continues to tap against the windows, however inside, everything feels safe and perfect.

“Thank you, Kinich,” you whisper, resting your head against his chest. “For everything.”

He starts stroking your back. “Of course. It’s the least I could do, to make your day less shitty.”

And in that moment, you realise that he truly did that. Despite the rough day, despite your friend’s hurtful words, sitting here in this homemade fort with Kinich by your side, you feel truly content… 

Knowing that love can be more than words. 

date of posting — september 16th 2024

[yourplayersaidwhat]

the only context needed is our Rogue(me) and Bard's players are puzzle game enjoyers, and our Warlock and Paladan are not.

we were in a room trying to solve a puzzle. all you need to know is there is a heavy illusion cursed mirror that has scratch marks where it's been moved side to side on one side of the room, and on the opposite side a painting of the mirror's side of the room that lacks the mirror and has a staircase. we also established before this that the mirror's reflection does not seem to reveal anything through messing with it

Rogue: "oh this reeks of a puzzle, i love puzzles!"

Paladan: "lets move the mirror to the other side of the room"

Rogue: "what? why??"

Paladan: "so it can have the same veiw of the room as the painting"

Warlock: "yeah if it has the same veiw then it might reflect something different"

Rogue: "but the scratch marks are side to side- not all the way over there" *uses roll20's mesuring tool to visialize it for them* "just checking DM, this is right?"

DM: "that's correct yes, side to side"

Rogue: "then we don't need to move it across the room, there's no scratch marks saying to do that"

Paladan: "but if we get the mirror to reflect the same thing as the painting it might show the stairs"

Warlock: "we'd probably have to blindly step on them tho"

we squabble like this for at least another minute, Rogue getting increasingly exasperated. the Bard is silent through all of this, i can only assume trying to proccess their logic

Rogue, with a headache: "i don't understand at all. maybe i'm not understanding cause i don't have a visual, do it so i can tell what's going on"

DM: "okay you want it over here yeah?" *puts mirror right in front of the painting, facing the side of the room it was originally on*

Paladan and Warlock: "yes!"

Rogue: "okay yeah that's what i thought you were saying, that doesn't make sense"

DM: "nothing happens"

Paladan and Warlock: "damnit!"

Rogue: "okay move it back and look at the scratch marks again. they don't say to move it across the room!"

Paladan: "it was worth a shot! don't blame us for trying!"

Rogue: "no it wasn't cause it doesn't make sense!!"

Bard, finally piping up: "ngl i wasn't sure what they were saying until the mirror moved, imagine my guy raised a brow at that"

Rogue: "okay now let's move the mirror along the scrach marks this time"

Bard: "move the mirror along the marks towards the door, so it lines up with the painting"

Rogue, at wits end: "YES THANK YOU!"

DM: *moves mirror* "like this?"

Rogue and Bard: "yeah"

DM: "the mirror glows for a second then the glass turns into a portal to a stairwell"

Rogue, on the brink of tears: "...i love puzzles..."

[power-handmaiden]

Day 180: Not Pounded By Self-Doubt Because I Can Do Anything I Set My Mind To

Ok, from the title I was expecting this to be a broad feel-good tingler. I wasn't expecting it to hit me in a personal place. So this post will get kind of personal.

I wish I had read this one earlier! Close to the beginning of this project I made a post about how I hoped to get some inspiration to be creative again from reading all these tinglers. I don't have any aspirations of making professional-grade work like the protagonist of this story... I just missed being able to channel my feelings into hobbies I used to enjoy. I don't think I was able to put voice to exactly the problem for all those years- I thought I just couldn't think of ideas anymore. That wasn't it, though. I was feeling exactly what the protagonist of this story was feeling- self-doubt over the quality of his ideas. They were all too ridiculous, or too niche, or not fleshed-out enough (when you've gone creatively stagnant it's so easy to forget how those inklings of ideas have a tendency to develop themselves once you get down to actually writing/drawing them out!)

But, while I feel like this tingler is a great one for anyone feeling this way with their creativity... I think tinglers in general, especially the act of opening oneself to enjoying them without any feelings of irony, can be just as powerful. For fuck's sake, I read a story where a guy named Rim Tuesday fell in love with and had sex with a sentient veggie burger. And I LOVED it. And I could tell the author had fun writing it! Who's to say any idea is too ridiculous when the work I just described is an incredibly enjoyable one?!

Recently, I've gotten back into writing fanfiction. Slowly, but it's a start after letting the self-doubt keep me down for so long. It's fun! And this tingler makes me feel good about picking the hobby back up. This tingler is a good reminder that the fun I'm having with the ideas (hardcore lesbian sex between video game characters mostly, to be clear) makes it worthwhile no matter how far what I'm doing lies beyond what popular opinion would call "good" or "respectable" art.

[wabatle]

𓆩⚝𓆪 How they comfort you — Blue Lock boys

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Featuring: Rin, Sae, Reo, Nagi, Kaiser

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Warnings: this is my first time writing for Kaiser, so I'm sorry if he's ooc!

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Contains: gn!reader, fluff, comfort (obviously)

𓆩⚝𓆪 — A/N: sorry guys, I was sad so I wrote comfort about my favorite sploinkles <3

-ˏˋ⋆ Rin Itoshi

╰┈➤He genuinely does not know what to do, but he wants to help in anyway he can.

╰┈➤He’ll literally do anything you need him to do, whether it be leave you alone or just come hold you to make you feel better.

╰┈➤Don't worry about any chores, like making dinner or cleaning, he'll take over. He simply wants you to relax.

╰┈➤Rin will also hold you close and whisper words of comfort, though he might be embarrassed.

╰┈➤He also would put on a movie or something so you have something else to focus on.

╰┈➤He’ll try to get you to talk about it, although he may come across as pushy. Just remind him.

-ˏˋ⋆ Sae Itoshi

╰┈➤I feel like he's very similar to Rin, but he knows exactly what to do to make you feel better.

╰┈➤He believes that the way to make you feel better is to simply be there, as usually he finds your presence comforting and wants to do the same for you.

╰┈➤Sae would help you forget all about your responsibilities or anything coming up that may cause you stress.

╰┈➤Like Rin, Sae would also hold you close and whisper words of comfort. He would hold your hand and let your head rest on his shoulder until you feel better.

╰┈➤He really wants you to talk about it, to give him some kind of reason to talk about it, but, he'll never pressure you into talking to him.

╰┈➤He’s ready and willing to give you as much time as you need <3

-ˏˋ⋆ Reo Mikage

╰┈➤Reo is legitimately trying not to cry himself, because he absolutely despises seeing you like this, he just wants you to be happy and healthy.

╰┈➤He will literally do anything you ask. Want him to drop everything to come hold you, kiss you, and make you feel better? He will. Want him to go away and give you some alone time? Reluctantly, he will.

╰┈➤Another thing he'll think to do is treat you, to anything you might want. He'll take you out to dinner, buy you some grand cake, anything.

╰┈➤If you want to talk about it, he will listen, and listen so intently. If something work or school related is stressing you out, he'll do whatever he can to get that stress off your shoulders. If someone is bothering you, Reo will destroy their reputation, just give him the word.

-ˏˋ⋆ Seishiro Nagi

╰┈➤I would like to think his first thought is to get your mind off of it by holding you close while you game together.

╰┈➤He’ll cuddle you and ask you about your day, and if you don't want to talk about it, he won't ask again. He'll wait for you to talk to him first.

╰┈➤If you're crying he'll direct his attention to you and hold you. He’ll quietly shush you and stroke your back, being careful when choosing his words.

╰┈➤He would play some kind of game that he knows you like so that way you can have a good time and get your mind off of the problem.

╰┈➤To Nagi, there's no better coping mechanism than distraction and enjoyment.

-ˏˋ⋆ Michael Kaiser

╰┈➤Immediately you're pulled into his lap, or just really close to him, and he’ll hold you there until you feel better. He’s dedicating all of his attention to you, all of his thoughts, everything. He kisses your face and rubs your back, doing whatever you need.

╰┈➤He might get a little pushy when trying to get you to talk about it, but if you're really insistent on him leaving you alone, he will.

╰┈➤If you want some alone time, he’ll be anxiously awaiting the moment when you call him back to you, so he can hold you and kiss your worries away.

╰┈➤For once, he won’t tease you or be his usual cheeky self. He’ll sit with you until you feel like talking, or moving, or anything. He’s genuinely concerned.

𓆩⚝𓆪 — thank you for reading!

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Taglist (ask 2 be added): @mariaace (everyone <3)

𓆩⚝𓆪 — blue lock masterlist || masterlist

[venusbby]

post it, or don't ♡

characters/pairings: itoshi rin x reader

warnings: one cuss word lol, not proofread sorry if there's any typos!!! have a good day people.

✿ summary: your tired boyfriend is not a big fan of your spam account being filled with his overly cute photos.

"stop that—"

"stop what?"

"you're taking pictures of me."

"im not, rinnie."

you definitely were.

how could you not take pictures of him when he's sprawled out on top of you like a house cat?

although he was trying his best not to put all of his weight on you, it was impossible to control himself. especially when his body was quite sore from his new workout routine.

rin was unusually clingy today, his exhaustion was responsible for that. initially, all he needed was to lie down on the bed and let his muscles rest against the mattress— but then he realised you were already there, scrolling through your social media.

he just couldn't say no when you opened your arms and called out to him with that soft voice of yours, and he had already started to dream of the satisfying feeling of your hands running through his hair by that time.

and that's how he ended up with his face nestled in your neck and his legs tangled with yours, much to your enjoyment and his instant regret when you clicked on the camera icon and watched the mess of the dark green hair that tickled your cheek.

he didn't realise anything at first because his eyes were closed and he was actually considering falling asleep right then and there. however, the clicking sound of your phone was enough to make him groan and hide his face further.

but your laugh was so soft yet contagious, right next to his ear, and he was holding onto that one string of hope that you wouldn't record a video of his immediate complaints.

"babyyy, say hi!" you said while doing the exact thing he didn't want you to do— recording a video. it was so fun to get on his nerves sometimes.

all he could do was give the side of your bare hips a light squeeze as he tried his best to speak quietly so the video wouldn't pick up what he was saying. "you make me fucking miserable."

your cheeks hurt from how hard you smiled. "alright, okay. i've got my pictures, im satisfied. i'll leave you alone now."

rin slowly peeked up when you placed your phone on the bedside table and shot a glare as you looked down at him. "you're not posting that. i'm tired of seeing my face on my own feed."

"yeah! totally not posting that."

"y/n." it's become a daily thing for him to use your name in that warning tone. "not even the paparazzi post as many pictures of me as you do."

you rolled your eyes. "it's because i'm your biggest fan. just one?"

"no."

"rinnie, pretty please. you just look so cute. gosh, you look even cuter right now." you tried to soften his edges a bit, feeling your chest implode with love because God, your boyfriend was so effortlessly cute. especially when his tired eyes were covered with his dark strands.

all you got in return was a grunt and rin was back to burying his face in the crook of your neck. he really didn't have the energy to deal with your weird ways of convincing. he just needed sleep, and you— he had both of his favourite things now.

you knew he granted you permission once he stopped, or more like gave up, and thanked him softly.

rin hummed as your hands ran over his neck and shoulders and lightly pressed his stiff muscles. a massage to top it all off, your boyfriend was quite literally seeing stars.

"squeeze harder," he mumbled, exhaling slowly when you did as he told you to.

"so, you've been working out."

he didn't respond, waiting for you to say something more related to that as you pondered while pressing your thumb into his skin to ease out the tension.

"don't i deserve a photo or two?" you proposed, a shameless grin on your face when you heard your lover make another noise in annoyance.

"maybe if you don't post that video," rin said, planting a quick kiss against your warm neck as he continued, knowing he had found a good solution. "i'll send you some."

and a few days later, you realised that it was a pretty good deal.

fjskfjskfndmcndkv. this is all i have to show. bye fellow rin enjoyers.