#So I am getting through other things slowly slowly

[vershautece]

Imagine the whole phd thing was your inside joke nobody else knew about and one day you’re at a gathering and somebody asks “so luigi, thinking of going for that phd soon?” He smirks and looks towards you like “what you think of me and a phd baby?” OHHHH LETS GO HOME RIGHT NOW AND I’LL TELL YOU

*when i first started responding to this ask i didn’t even mean to write a whole oneshot haha but omfg guys this is like size kink heaven

—

omg this is what im saying he would literally be this cocky and teasing😣 and yes i love the idea of it being an inside joke like u guys were prob just cuddling scrolling on your phones and he starts laughing bc he’s just seen a tweet about someone doing a phd and it inspired the joke😭 ur both giggling like children and then u turn to him and decide to tease, batting your lashes. ‘so is it really as huge as you say, sir?’ & you know damn well it’s a whole 7 inches bc ur insides have it memorised. ur rubbing his bulge through his pants and when he tells u to straddle him you’re giggling and whining while u dry hump

he’s going along with your playing dumb gimmick: ‘you need help remembering how big my cock is baby? don’t want just the tip, no? you want the whole thing? how many inches am i, princess?’

‘mm, 5?’ you’re messing with him still, grinding your hips onto his clothed crotch. his hands are moving between your sides, your lower back and gripping and kneading your ass in your loungewear.

at your words he immediately scoffs, and cocks his tongue to the inside of his cheek: ‘yeah sure baby, so you wanna see if you’re right?’ his smirk is making you so wet, and it’s surely gonna leak through the thin fabric you’re wearing. your hands are pushing on his chest now while you rock your hips against his.

‘mhmm, show me baby, i don’t think you can call it a phd if it’s only 5 inches. hm?’ u tease him, and move back off his crotch a little to palm him through his sweatpants. he’s so hard now, and u almost moan out loud at the feeling of him even through fabric.

‘take it out then, sweetheart’ he’s looking at you with pure lust in his eyes as you sit back to pull his sweatpants and his boxers down his legs, throwing them onto the other side of the bed.

his cock is fully erect, almost slapping against his stomach, and he hisses at the feeling. ‘what do you think, baby?’

you’re nearly drooling at the sight, and you giggle, biting your lip. ‘still think it’s just 5 inches, lu’ you bat your eyelashes, pouting slightly, and he nods slowly in response. ‘see if you can take those 5 inches in your mouth then, come on. if it’s only 5 you can do it, sweetheart’

you don’t break eye contact with him as you put him in your mouth, and you only get halfway down before you start to gag. the sight of u struggling to deepthroat him while maintaining eye contact has him going insane. he lets out one loud groan as soon as he’s in your mouth, and instinctively moves his hand to your hair, holding it out of your face. ‘why can’t you take it all, bellissima? hm? come off my cock for a second and answer me, yeah?’

you reluctantly take him out of your mouth, and tease him by spitting out his precum back onto the tip of his cock. ‘mm, think i need to feel it inside me lu, y’know if it hits my cervix then maybe i can say you do qualify for a phd’

u and luigi literally never have sex without him hitting your cervix - he knows you’re messing with him and his size kink is going crazy. he gives u that smirk (u guys know which oneee) ‘that’s fine baby ill give it to you, but you didn’t answer my question. why can’t you deepthroat my cock, beautiful?’

‘mm, stop asking questions and tell me to put it inside baby’ you moan, rocking yourself on his bare thigh and stroking his cock - you’re still fully clothed, and this friction isn’t enough

‘so fuckin’ needy, hm? yeah, you want my dick inside you? take everything off baby, there wasn’t any point in wearing panties cause you’re leaking through your clothes, mm’ he sits up a bit and reaches forward to rub your pussy slowly through your pants. he can locate the clit even through your clothes, and he slaps it lightly as a way of telling you to strip off. you take off your tank top, shuffle out of your pants, and then pull down your soaking panties, and luigi is jerking off slowly in front of you, trying to control his moans. you position yourself on him, replacing his hand with yours on his cock so that you can guide him into you. slowly, you start to push in the tip, and you nearly scream at the pleasure from his tip alone. ‘mmmm, lu’ you place your hands on his chest, and he’s smirking up at u. ‘mhm? this is just the tip baby girl, you gonna push me in deeper? shouldn’t be that difficult since im not that big, huh? cmon’ and he starts drawing slow circles on your clit just to tease you even more. you roll your eyes and push him in deeper, letting out another pornographic moan. ‘luigiiii, mm you’re so bi-’

his smirk grows wider: ‘i’m what? repeat that baby’ he lifts his hips to slowly push the rest into you, groaning at the feeling, and when he bottoms out you lean forward onto his chest and put your arms around his neck. ‘you’re so big, mmmm Mr phd’ you giggle into his chest

‘yeah? it’s more than 5 inches, huh, princess?’ he wraps his arms tight around your waist and gently pulls your face from his chest. he kisses you passionately, and you’re both giving each other teasing smiles when u break the kiss. ‘mhm, feel you in my cervix’ you moan softly; he’s not even started moving yet.

‘yeah, i know baby’ he coos at you, caressing your abdomen where his imprint is. ‘start rocking your hips, and i’ll get to making you feel so good, hm?’ he kisses you again softly as you start grinding on his cock. ‘mmmm, i’m so lucky’ you moan

his arms are moving up and down your torso now, and occasionally to your ass to knead it and grip it. ‘yeah you are, and so am i with this beautiful girl on top of me. you look like an angel, my baby’

you’re blushing down at him, soft moans spilling from your throat as you increase the pace. he’s kissing your neck now and leaving hickeys, while u tangle your fingers in his curls. ‘yeah, grind on my cock just like that, oh fuck’ he’s moaning into your neck, and you keep this pace going for a good few minutes, until he tells you to stop.

u both look at each other with lust filled eyes, a needy whine leaving your throat as you stop moving. he chuckles softly at your desperation. ‘c’mere, baby girl’ he wraps his arms tight around your waist again, and shifts his position on the bed to sit up properly against the headboard, still inside you. ‘c’mere’ he continues to coo at you, then brings u down onto his chest, planting his feet on the bed for the perfect angle to start thrusting up into you. he kisses your forehead, and holds you so tight. you’re prepared for him to start thrusting rough, but instead he starts an extremely frustrating pace of one rough thrust, then stilling inside u, another rough thrust, stilling inside again, and repeat. you want him to be fucking you dumb, not teasing you at this slow pace but it’s so so intimate, and his words in between the thrusts have you feeling like you’re in heaven. ‘i’m starting off slow like this baby, need to make sure you’re really savouring the feeling of how i hit your cervix, mhm? promise i’ll go faster soon’ he speaks to you so sweet and soft, kissing your forehead over and over.

*thrust* ‘mm, that’s it bellissima, you’re taking it so well’ *thrust* ‘mhm, my baby taking my cock so deep for me’ *thrust* ‘yeah, you feeling good?’ *thrust* ‘oh that’s my girl huh? mm, amore mio’

to all of this you’re just responding with moans and incoherent babbles, fingers tangled in his curls - the sensation and the contrast of him thrusting and then stilling inside is heavenly, and you don’t mind the teasing anymore.

‘all you can do is moan for me, hm? all dumb on this phd?’ he’s still at the same pace, and when you still don’t respond he smacks ur ass in between thrusts. u manage to let out a reply through whines: ‘mmm i love you luigi, my baby’

‘i know, sweetheart, i know. i love you too, always wanna show you how much’ he stops thrusting altogether and kisses your shoulder. ‘luigi, please’ you moan, desperate for him to fuck you properly. ‘pazienza, amore mio’

you’re arching your back like a slut waiting for him, and when he starts a steady pace you can’t control any of the whines and moans that leave your throat. ‘oh, luuu, i needed this so bad, your cock’s so fucking big, shit, i can’t’ your eyes roll into the back of your head, and his grip on your waist is so secure it’s making u even dizzier thinking about how protective he is of you. ‘that’s it, sweetheart - is it too much?’ his pace is getting unbelievably faster, and he keeps saying things to you as if you have the energy or brain capacity rn to reply.

‘no it’s perfect baby, want you inside me like this forever’ you manage to reply, and then you’re pressing sloppy kisses all over his neck - your moans vibrating against his skin triggers louder moans from him. ‘oh you’re so good to me, i’m the luckiest girl in the world’

‘baby girl - bambina - i wanna take care of you forever, make you my wife’

‘luigi, i’m gonna cum’ you whine, his words getting u even closer.

‘mhm, you close? yeah? cum for me, beautiful’ he pushes you back off his chest so he can see you, and the eye contact is insane. ‘i wanna see you come undone for me, amore mio, i’m so close too’

‘cum inside me, lu’ you whine desperately, hands gripping his curls so tight. his thrusts haven’t slowed once, and u think it can’t get any better till he suddenly hooks his hands under your ass and makes you jump on his cock, while he shifts his position so that you’re both sat up properly chest to chest, and he bends his knees even more to adjust the angle of his thrusts that somehow makes you feel even better than you already felt.

‘i’m gonna cum, fuck baby, oh, i love you so much’ his moans are erratic, and he’s sucking and kissing your boobs, hands still gripping and smacking your ass.

‘mhmmmm, me too, oh i love you’ you’re rocking your hips frantically to meet his thrusts now, and he pulls away from your boobs just for one second to say something: ‘dolcezza, play with your clit, my pretty girl’

and now your fingers are working erratically on your bundle of nerves, the last thing to push you over the edge as you get your release, screaming luigi’s name. you fall forward onto his chest immediately, while he continues his thrusts to get his own release.

‘that’s a good girl, cumming all over my cock, that’s it - gonna fill you up with mine now, mhm’ he’s muttering these words in your ear, followed by loud grunts as he spills inside you, right before collapsing on the sheets with you on his chest.

you’re both breathing heavily for a few moments and he’s stroking your hair with one hand, pulling you as close as possible by your waist with his other hand. he’s the first to speak: ‘so you’re gonna tell me i qualify for a phd now?’ he’s smirking into your hair, pecking the top of your head. ‘baby’ you giggle into his chest. u caress his cheek and whisper in his ear, ‘of course. and these 7 inches belongs to me’ you’re smiling up at him, and he raises his brows in response. ‘oh so you do admit it now, huh? i know your pussy has every inch of me memorised, you can’t mess with me sweetheart’

he shifts you slightly to slowly pull his cock out of you, and you both giggle at all the cum that drips out onto his stomach :’) then, you look up at him innocently, moving your hand to his softening cock. ‘can you fuck me in the shower, please baby?’

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 13

Bruce (walking into Jason and Danny's apartment): Hey Jason, sorry to come by unannounced but I forgot to give you-

Bruce froze as he saw Jason and Danny (currently in a less than human form) arguing in the living room.

Jason: My word is final!

Danny: I̵̼͂ ̷̦͓͊͂͐͘a̸̧̛̖̱͆̏͝m̴̘̈́ͅ ̴̺̘̈͐ͅȯ̷͇͓̯͓̕ń̶̫̺̔͘ë̷́̆̅̚ͅ ̵̀͑͘ͅw̶̭͒͊i̷͍͙̭̒̃̈͗t̴̙́͌̅̀h̵̖̔͆̃ ̴̳̲̙͆t̵̨̨̩͓̉h̴͚̾̓͠e̷͇͍͑͊̊͠ ̸̭̉͆n̵̟̍̄̅̕ḭ̸̭͇͒̈́g̵͋͒̐ͅh̵̳̔̎́̐t̸͓̝̤̅ ̸̭̰̺̹̆̀̓a̵͕͓̫̐͐n̵̒̏ͅd̸͇͆ ̴̡̞͕̙͘ţ̶̜̫͓̏͑h̷̦̦̮͛̽̕ę̸̹͠ ̷͕͓̒͆e̶̘͔̥̓̀̌͌n̷̤̝͋͛̓̋d̷͇̽l̶̐̎̂̂ͅe̷̩̖͂̌͗͝ͅs̵̛̥̣̾̄s̶̢̮̜̘̉̒ ̸̛̛̭̺͉́̉v̵̖͖̺͓̾ö̵̺͕̱́͗̐͝i̸̖͍̊d̷͈͔͂,̸̲͍͊͛̈́̓ ̷͈̝̲̭͐̀̉͌Ḯ̷̙̣̚̚ ̵̮͎̇̈́́͜d̵͉͉̰͝ơ̵̹̤̈́͂ ̴̨̏n̵͈̜̪̺̐o̶̩̒̕t̶̻͍͇̄ ̷̪̌́̍̕r̶͖̫͂ͅͅe̷̹͈͉̅q̵̬̿u̴̼̲͔̟̾͛͂i̶͍͕͚̝̇͐̄r̵̦͝ê̴̢̨̼̟̏͋͝ ̴̞̃͐ṱ̵͔̪̰̑h̸̲̪͎͊͂̓e̸̻̗̺̾͝ ̷̢̞͒̇a̵̡̦̞̿̈̓r̴͓̄̈́̿͝c̸͖̿̆̀ḣ̸̰a̶̹̾í̶̲̗͋c̸͚̐̑ ̶̤̯̹̈̈ͅp̵̧̅̂̑͒ͅr̷̡̞͔̂̽͠a̷̢̮͆̉ċ̶̨̠̚͝t̷̜̺̖̒̓͊i̴̹̾c̶̯̫̥̩͝͠e̴͚͔͓͌͊́͑ ̸̠̜̳̙̆͋͘ó̷̼̹f̸̛͖͒͂͌ͅͅ ̷͍͗̎̀s̵͖͕̀l̶̪͔͉̏̈́́̓ę̵̛̦̳͔͂͊̚e̶͉̼̒p̸̟͠.̵̦̓̇

Jason: I don't care, you have school tomorrow and you WILL sleep.

Danny: Ḯ̵̤̩ ̷̼͌͌̚a̸̯̿m̷͔͙̲̏̉̂ ̴̛͈͑́ẙ̵̻̓̉͜ṏ̶̱̘͎́u̵̧͎̼̓̋̄r̸̖͍̈́ͅ ̷̻̹̈́͜k̴̜̹̦̉i̸̩͝ṋ̸̨͔̈́͆̈́g̸̖̈́͛̓,̶͈͍̤̋ ̴̢̍͆ỵ̸̓͋o̴̺̾̋͘u̴̘͂͊͝ ̵̡̲͕͂c̵̺͖͑̊a̴̛͍̺̥n̷͎͋̾́n̵̗̂̆̈́ȏ̸̞̫t̷̞̺̺́ ̷͍̞̓ǧ̵̜̜̜̐͠i̶͓͖̫͒̕v̶͎̰̈̋e̶̜̿̐ ̶̪͕͚͊̕m̵͖̖̓͆͐ě̸͆̀͜ ̷̙̖͖̓́̕o̴̮̥̽r̷̡̫̤̉̌̂d̷͇̰͒͆ë̸͈̫̙́̕r̶̟̖̉́͜s̴̞͐͛!̸̭͐͊̋

Jason: And I am your father, and I'm telling you to go to sleep.

Bruce cleared his throat. Jason and Danny turned to look at him.

Danny (moving towards Bruce slowly turning back into a human form): G̵̤̜̥̐̄͆r̸͎̪̀̑a̶̰̮̾n̴̟̯̘̅̿̉d̷̡̲̼̐p̸͖̭̰̂ạ̵͂͒,̸̰̱̀̓ ̵̡̰̻͑̆ḍ̸̩́ä̷͔͖́̌d̴̳̪͒͆ į̷̐s̶͉͠ ̶̭̒b̷̪̎ë̶͙́ì̴͍n̶͘ͅg̴̨̔ m̶e̶a̵n̵ ̴t̴o̷ me.

Bruce looked at Danny, then at Jason, then back at Danny.

Bruce: Sorry kid, your dad's right you need sleep.

Danny looked up at his grandfather, took a deep breath and produced an inhuman screech before marching to his bedroom and slamming the door.

Bruce (looking at Jason): Is that normal?

Jason: He refuses to sleep once in a while. He doesn't actually need to sleep but it's still good for his mental health, so I make him.

Bruce: I see.

Jason: You need something?

Bruce: No, I meant to give you and Danny these. He hands Jason two boxes.

Jason: Are these the new generation of phones Wayne Enterprises made?

Bruce: Yup, two moths before they're set to be realized to the public.

Jason (smiled): Thank you Bruce.

Bruce: Sure thing Jason.

Danny: Um, dad.

Jason and Bruce to look at Danny who was sheepishly sticking his head out of his door.

Danny: Can you tuck me in?

Jason: Sure thing kid.

Jason followed Danny to his bed, tucked him in, and gave him a kiss on the head.

Danny: Goodnight dad, I love you.

Jason (leaving Danny's room): Love you too son.

Jason walked back towards Bruce who was smiling.

Jason: Shut up, you used to tuck us in as well.

Bruce: I know. Just happy to see you two get along so well.

Jason: I try my best, but sometimes I don't know if it's enough.

Bruce: That's what all parents feel like Jason. Personally I think you're doing a great job.

Jason: Thanks dad.

Bruce (smiling): Anything for you. They looked at each other for a few seconds. I should get going, I have some paperwork to go through.

Jason (walked up to Bruce and hugged him): I love you dad.

Bruce (hugging him back): Love you too son.

(Master Post)

Danny's distorted lines:

1 - I am one with the night and the endless void, I do not require the archaic practice of sleep.

2 - I am your king, you cannot give me orders!

3 - Grandpa, dad is being mean to me.

[adilqalbi]

What's True Love If Not Necromancy?

pairing: ramdevi

tagging: @rc-catalog

word count: 799

tw: light mentions of death

rating: g

summary: a different take on devi waking up for the first time in hertfordshire, finding ram and their conversation.

additional note: A SUPER LATE birthday present for the one and only JB/ @webanglikethat!! Jbaby you're one of the greatest people I have had the honour of knowing. i did my best here but forgive any mistakes. i hope you have an amazing year and whatever troubles you, i hope it goes away asap. i'll always love you (platonically)

Ram hadn't realised just how much he missed Devi until the night she showed up to his room, complaining of a headache. 

She had been unconscious for weeks, but the British physicians had seemingly done their best to help her recover from her injury. 

Now, here she was, sitting on Ram's bed, breathing deeply and massaging her temples. 

Ram sat on the floor at her feet, watching her, his palms resting on her knees, waiting patiently for her to break their silence. 

Finally: ‘’Where are we?’’ Her voice was a whisper, and Ram had to lean in to hear the question. 

He sighed. She didn’t know. Of course, she had been dead, roaming around in the afterlife probably, and now she was back but in a foreign place. 

‘’We are in Britain. Hertfordshire.’’

‘’Hertfordshire? How? This…doesn’t make sense.’’

‘’Shh, I know it doesn’t. I’ll explain everything, rakshasi.’’ Ram ran his hand through Devi’s messy hair, trying to calm her down. 

‘’Please, Ram. Just tell me. I was dead. Dead. What happened?’’

Ram bit his lip. There was no delaying this. She had to know. 

He sat down next to her on the bed, took her hand in his and began. 

‘’You did die. Dixit stabbed you. But, you killed him before your final breath. And, then you died.’’

Devi was silent. 

‘Ram continued: ‘’I figure you would be upset to know that the last time you breathed was in…Christian’s arms.’’ 

‘’By the gods. Dying in the arms of a foreigner.’’ 

‘’Yes, well, it’s okay though. We got you back very quickly.’’

Devi looked up at Ram. ‘’Yes, how did you manage that?’’

Ram rubbed his neck, nervous, ‘’There’s this ritual that can be done. It had never been successful before but it worked with you for some reason.’’

‘’A ritual?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’It had never worked before?’’

‘’No.’’

‘’But, here I am.’’

‘’Indeed.’’

Devi rolled her eyes. ‘’Of course, you would know a ritual. But wasn’t it too big a risk?’’

Ram looked at the bedroom floor, dark oak. He was silent for a few minutes, lost in thought. 

It was risky to have done the ritual. He could have made everything worse. But, he knew one thing was true, which would never change. 

‘’I wanted to do everything in my power to get you back. I don’t think I could live without you.’’

Ram looked directly into Devi’s eyes, ‘’Five years, Devi. Five years of stolen glances, and flirty jokes, and searching for each other in the crowd and yet not being able to talk openly. I’d already suffered for five years, without you by my side.’’ Ram stopped here, his voice failing him. 

Devi completed his thoughts: ‘’And after five years, once we just began taking steps towards…happiness…that’s when I was taken away from the world of the living. And you…’’

‘’Couldn’t bear it. Not for one minute.’’ 

Devi curled her lips inwards, not sure what to say to Ram’s sudden confession. 

‘’I’m sorry, maybe this was too much altogether.’’ Ram quieted down, mentally berating himself for not keeping his mouth shut. He was always so good at it, so what happened now?

The next thing he knew was that Devi was holding his hand tighter. ‘’No, Ram. It’s…I appreciate you so much. I love you dearly. It’s just that…I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting it.’’

Ram raised his eyebrow, askance. 

‘’You were the one who said that what we have can’t be anything more than a secret.’’ Devi smirked, her old self coming back slowly as her mind got used to being alive again. ‘’What changed?’’

Ram looked at her again, her sparkling eyes, her smile. He thought back to how she laughed. 

‘’I want to make you laugh, I think. I want to do that for the rest of my life.’’ 

Devi blinked. She had expected a sarcastic joke, but this was serious. 

She smiled softly again, rubbing her thumb against Ram’s palm. 

‘’Ram…truly…I’d love to laugh with you forever. But-’’

‘’Oh god, there’s a but.’’ 

Devi, ironically laughed, ‘’Listen to me, you rakshasa. But now was not a good time to confess. I came back to life  half an hour ago. I’m pretty sure my body isn’t used to being alive currently. I think I need to sleep, actually. So, if you would please continue your tale of true love later on, I’d love to be able to sleep.’’

‘’True love? What do you mean true lov - wait!’’

It was no use. Devi was already under the covers with her eyes closed.

Under the covers. Sleeping. 

On Ram’s bed. 

In Hertfordshire. 

Where the maids liked to gossip. 

He looked at the empty side of the bed. He thought about it for perhaps one minute. Then he cuddled in right next to his true love.

[kkyiu]

heart locket.

anton lee x reader

. . . confronting your ex was the last thing you needed amid a cold winter.

genre : angst , ex au

warnings : heartbreak , no use of y/n

wc . . 1.1k

You wonder why you dragged yourself to the park at 3 AM to face your ex-boyfriend, but here you are, revisiting the wounds of your heart just by seeing him again.

The first thing you noticed seeing Anton for the first time in what feels like an eternity, was the silver necklace resting on his collarbone. The heart locket was hidden under his coat, but the intricate detailing of the chain could have you recognize it within a heartbeat.

It had been a year and four months since you two called it quits. You try your hardest to manipulate your mind to think it came to a mutual agreement, though it only aches your heart remembering how he took the initiative. After the breakup, Anton's whereabouts were nonexistent to you considering how he blocked you on everything and you were never close with his friends, so there was no way to find out how he was dealing with the breakup.

Only after several breakdowns and disassociations you went through at the expense of the breakup, you were slowly picking up the pieces of your heart. Anton wasn't occupying your thoughts anymore and you started going out with friends again. It’s safe to say you were happy again, thinking the same for the other party, but only way quicker on his side.

Well, the assumption of him moving on was soon to be proven false when you received a text from an unknown number, revealing it to be your ex, asking to meet.

A giant part of you wants to curse him out for breaking no contact to drag you outside in the cold. But another part of you hated the way you willingly let yourself obey his words.

Nevertheless, there he was right in front of you, dressed neatly in a black wool coat that complimented his tall figure which reminded you how much of a beauty he was.

You two were the only figures spotted in the park that was engulfed in darkness, the only sources of light being the dimly lighted broken street lamps and the illuminating bright moon. The bottom half of your face was buried under your big scarf to shield against the sharp breezes. You kept a safe distance from Anton because if you were any closer to him, you'd certainly let your guard down and take the opportunity just to cup his face once more. The necklace kept stealing your attention considering how intently you kept your eye on it.

The silence was finally broken when he said your name, his voice barely above a whisper. Hearing your name come out of his mouth in such a distant tone felt so foreign. "I'll just get straight to the point." He continued, "I regret every bit of it, I mean breaking up with you. I..I thought it was the right thing. My insecurities were eating me alive, and I kept thinking you deserve so, so much more than what I was offering. I know now that I was the biggest coward to do that," the smoke of his breaths was visible due to the cold while you kept listening. "I'm sorry for shutting out after the breakup and causing you pain."

You exhale a wobbly sigh, flashing him your glossy pair of eyes. Your eyes were already filled to the brim with tears and the sight broke him completely. “Anton…” He cut through your words and unknowingly took a step closer toward you, "I found myself going to every place we went, hoping to catch even a tiny glimpse of you, wishing that I could undo this mess." You just listened and listened, carefully taking in every word he said. Out of habit, Anton reached to the tiny necklace pendant of his for solace and you can’t help but crack a tiny sad smile.

You hadn’t realized how much the space between you two had closed and you swear you could catch snowflakes land on his eyelashes, dissolving within milliseconds. Seeing him this vulnerable made you want to take back all the hatred you had for him leaving.

"Your heart locket.” You finally acknowledge, and you notice his slow blinks in realization. He pursed his lips and undoes his clutch, revealing the silver heart-shaped pendant. He was taken aback that you called it out despite it being hidden under his coat.

He still recalls the day you gifted him it for his birthday early in the relationship. He'd proudly show not just you but everyone around him the small black-and-white photo of you smiling brightly. The necklace witnessed every moment of the relationship. From a full day of laughter on the beach, sharing the first kiss, and stargazing nights to petty quarrels, deafening yells, and a pool of tears during the final night of the relationship.

It was as if every memory he shared with you was captured in that tiny little pendant, and anytime it was open, everything would flood back up. He couldn't bring himself to take off the necklace because then it would mean losing you all over again and he couldn't bear to go through that the second time.

"This was all I had left of you." The locket was again closed in his fist and you could see his knuckles turning red from the biting cold. "I wish you knew that you were all I wanted," now it was your turn to speak, "I wish you knew that you were the only light through my darkest times and I didn't need anything else. So, yes, you sitting me down to say those three words hurt me an amount no words can summarize." You lock eyes with him, tiny apologies flooding in his dark orbs with a frown on his face.

Anton took another step closer, "Please..." he breathed your name once again, prompting you to shake your head, "Anton, no. It's been more than a year and I've moved on. I'm happy now." You say, though your words are unconvincing to him. “I swear I'll love you right this time if you just give me this chance." His soft-spoken voice became unsteady and a single tear ran down his cheek. Overtaken by emotions, Anton let his head wearily drop on your shoulder. You stood there frozen, contemplating what to do with your ex-boyfriend physically relying on your smaller build.

Your heart breaks for him and the least you could do was wrap your hands around his waist, hoping to console him with your touch. Getting carried away, your hand found its way to his hair gradually caressing his soft streaks. His muffled sobs accompanied you as you started to feel your wool coat getting damp.

Although it was truly tempting to drop everything and return to his love, you couldn't. For the sake of both of you, maybe locking up the memories in that heart locket will do nothing but good.

[wordsofelie]

🔭mars

part of my observatory event, requested by @dearru <3

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

summary: you have the biggest crush on your neighbour—turns out he goes to the same gym as you.

content warnings: time skip setting, fluff, iwaizumi hajime is too beautiful for this world

words count: 1.3k

“I swear I’ve never seen something so magnificent,” you say in a fierce whisper.

Your best friend groans on the other end of the call. “Are you talking about that guy again?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“What is ridiculous?” she asks, already exasperated, hoping you’ll finally change the subject.

“His awesomeness. This morning, he was on his balcony, hanging out the sheets and still he looked so cool and-”

“Oh god, I’m hanging up now.”

She should be used to it by now. For weeks, your not-so-subtle (and maybe slightly overdramatic) crush on your new neighbour has been the only thing on your mind—and on your lips. But you’re not the one to blame. The man is a pleasure to your eyes—in an unfair kind of way.

You first noticed him when he moved in two months ago.

His arms were stacked with cardboard boxes, his short hair was tousled from the summer heat and a few strands were clinging to his forehead. You were heading to the lift when he walked past, barely glancing up as he unlocked the apartment right next to yours. His brows were knitted in a frown, but the moment he noticed you, a quiet smile tugged at his lips. And you swore you’d never seen such beauty before.

You mumbled something like “good morning”, although you don’t even know if it reached his ears since you hastily turned your gaze away and stepped into the lift.

Then, you started noticing him everywhere.

In the hallway, where he nodded politely but never said much. At the mailboxes, where he always grabbed his letters with an effortless coolness. On his balcony, where he stretched after runs, wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts that should probably be illegal.

His balcony isn’t directly aligned with yours—it’s angled just enough that, from your couch, you can see straight into his living room. So really, it’s not your fault if you watch him sometimes. And yes, on the rare nights when you let curiosity get the best of you, you find yourself peeking through your window, catching glimpses of him under the soft glow of his apartment light. Tapping on his laptop. Making coffee. Just being there.

Not that you’re spying. That would be creepy. You’re just—observing.

The gym is the one place where you can let go. Since work has been demanding, you figured exercising might help you find some balance. Physically, maybe—but mentally? Not a chance. Because ever since you laid eyes on him, your mind has been an absolute mess.

Which is how you find yourself, mid-run on the treadmill, calling your best friend for the fourth time this week just to talk about your hot neighbour.

“Wait! Please, don’t leave me alone in this crisis,” you whine into your earphones.

Your best friend sighs. “Crisis? You’re staring at a hot guy and refusing to do anything about it. That’s not a crisis, that’s just cowardness.”

The thought alone makes your heart racing faster in your rib cage. “I am not refusing. I just- I don’t know where to start.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe by asking his name?”

“No, no, no. I could never.”

“Come on, you’ve been eating, sleeping, and breathing this guy for weeks, and you don’t even know his name. I told you—coward.”

You step off the treadmill and catch your breath. Your voice hovers somewhere between a whisper and a complaint as you wipe your forehead with a towel. “Excuse me, but I am not—”

“Hey,” a deep voice interrupts.

Your heart stops.

Your best friend is still talking in your ear, but you don’t hear a word. Slowly, so slowly, you turn your head—

And he’s there.

Right in front of you.

All lean muscle, sun-kissed skin, and olive-green eyes that are even more stunning up close.

Since when does he come to your gym?

“I, uh-hi,” you stammer, yanking out an earbud.

He nods toward the treadmill. “Are you still using this?”

"Yes-I mean no. I-I…"

The corner of his lips turns upwards. “Yes or no?”

Everything in your head seems to come out scrambled, in the wrong order. "No! I mean-I'm done! It’s all yours!"

“Is it your neighbour?” Your best friend, still very much on the call, says. She doesn’t wait for your answer to add, "Ask his name."

"Shut up!" you blurt out and you feel heat scorching your face when you realise what you said out loud. You wave your hands in panic and rush to explain, “Oh my god, not you. Sorry”

Your neighbour looks somewhere between amused and mildly concerned. "Uh… right. Thanks." He still remains polite, almost too kind even though you just made a fool of yourself.

And just like that, he steps onto the treadmill, setting up his workout while you remain frozen in pure, undiluted mortification.

You spin on your heel and flee.

And for the next week, you avoid the gym like the plague and close your curtains.

It’s late Friday evening when the universe decides to ruin you again.

You step into the apartment complex’s lift, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors begin to close, a hand shoots out, stopping them.

You don’t even have time to react before he steps in.

The hot neighbour, whose name still remains a mystery.

He barely spares you a glance as he enters—until his eyes flick toward you, lingering just long enough for a smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth.

"You quit the gym?" he asks after a moment of silence.

You nearly choke. "What? No! I’ve just been… busy. With work. I work a lot… these days."

His smirk deepens. "Right. Then that’s even more reason to go back. It's good not only for physical health, but also for mental health.”

You clear your throat, grasping for composure. “You talk like a true professional.”

His eyes widen, you’re not sure why but he suddenly seems uncomfortable. He scratches the back of his neck and his eyes fall to the ground. “Sorry, that sounded like I’m mansplaining or something.”

“Not at all.” You smile a little. “But I guess I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?”

He immediately lifts his eyes and there's relief on his face, the frown that had formed a few seconds earlier, go away. You can see him tilting his head slightly, considering you.

"I’m going tomorrow morning. You coming?"

You swallow. "I-yeah. Sure."

"Cool," he says easily. Then, after a beat, "Wanna grab a coffee after?"

Your heart stumbles.

"Like… together?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Yeah. I mean, no pressure, you can totally say no."

You open your mouth, then close it again. A week ago, you were a coward who wished to never bump into him again. And now—now—he’s standing in a lift, casually inviting you for coffee like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"I-yeah. That’d be nice."

The lift dings. He steps aside, letting you go first. It only takes a few steps to reach your door, but somehow, it feels incredibly long. You finally turn to wish him a good night, but his voice cuts through the quiet first.

“Oh, and I’m Iwaizumi, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

You take a second to breathe in his words, his name.

You say yours in return—and you swear you see his cheeks redden just a little.

"Then, see you tomorrow, neighbour." He exclaims, throwing you one last glance over his shoulder.

And just like that, he disappears into his apartment.

While you stand there, staring after him, pulse thudding in your ears.

You finally know the name of your hot neighbour.

And he just asked you on a date.

You call your best friend that night to tell her everything. “What should I wear? More like casual? Or classy?” You ask her at some point.

Though she’s away, you can sense the smile on her face. “Gosh, I really should get paid for this.”

a/n: writing for iwaizumi hajime 27 athletic trainer is the best therapy

special tag for @sahrii im glad i can share my iwa obsession with you <3

[fromasgardandback]

Unsent Letter

Eddie Munson x Reader

masterlist | oneshots

•

Eddie was snooping around your bedroom while you were in the shower. He took you home after practice and as much as he doesn’t mind, you do so you told him to wait in your bedroom. Naturally, Eddie is curious and nosy. He dug through your things until he found the letter underneath your mattress. You’ve been best friends since childhood. Unsurprisingly, you would always be in each other's lives. For years Eddie has thought of you as his first and only love. You were the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing he thought of when he went to bed. He spent all his time with you when you weren’t in school or working. He was head over heels, completely wrapped around your dainty finger. He looked back towards the door before opening the letter and reading it.

“Dear Eddie,

My sweet darling Eddie. I have loved you since we were children. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but the day you saved me from drowning at Lover’s Lake when we were ten, I just knew you were my forever. Not because you saved me, but because you selflessly came to help me. The rest of our friends just stared, but you never hesitated. Our whole lives, you haven’t hesitated to show me how much I mean to you and never to stop being yourself. I have tried countless times to get over you thinking you would never love me back. But every date I went on, I compared them to you. No man could ever make me feel the way you do. Eddie, you are unregretfully yourself. Every day you wake up, not caring what others think of you. Not caring what this damn town thinks of you. I admire your courageous heart. Eddie…I will never love anyone as much as I love you. I am one thousand percent yours. I love you, Edward Munson. My heart belongs to you, and you alone. 

Yours Forever, Y/N”

Eddie couldn’t believe what he just read. In your handwriting, beautifully written and worded. Confessions only you and this paper knew. Confessions he felt deep in his soul. Confessions he needed to make his dream come true. His heart raced when he heard you open the door from the bathroom. He quickly put the letter down walking straight to you. Eddie cradled your face in his hands without a second thought, kissing you deeply. You melted right into him and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hair tickled your blushing cheeks making you smile into the kiss. He pulled away slowly resting his forehead on yours.

“What was that for?” You asked catching your breath.

“I accidentally found your letter and read it. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to read your private thoughts but I saw you loved me and I needed to tell you. I love you so much, Y/N. I couldn’t not tell you anymore.” Eddie rambled on before you kissed again to shut him up.

“I love you, Eddie. Now… show me.” He pulled you onto the bed, kissing your cheeks.

[kii-nami]

NIGHTBRINGER'S EPITAPH | PHAINON & MYDEI

Mydei drops Phainon’s title shamelessly, as if he is not standing here in this empty alleyway with you, holding you in his embrace so delicately behind Phainon’s back. Have you two no guilt? Does your shame really run that shallow to betray the man who loves you so dearly with such graceful ease? With his brother in arms, no less. How little self-respect does the crown prince have, to chase after a taken woman?

CW: 10K WORDS; ; FEM!MC; MC IS INVOLVED WITH BOTH OF THEM AT THE SAME TIME BUT FUJOS DNI; NO ACTUAL CHEATING; PART OF A WIDER HSR AU BY ME AND MY FRIEND; WRITTEN FROM A POV OF MY OTHER OC FROM THIS FIC; I AM NOT A HONKAI LORE SCHOLAR I'M SIMPLY FREAKY; IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS FEEL FREE TO ASK

They meet you for the first time with the fog of the hot water settling heavily in their lungs.

Burdened by her unavoidable involvement with this world’s struggles, Stelle is a little tense beside Shuhua. Their close brush with death – curtsy of Aglaea’s fierce dedication to protecting the secrets of Amphoreus – left the group somewhat shaken. Everything has been overwhelming ever since the cart crash-landed; so much so that Alisa started doubting Stelle’s decision to stay, instead of returning back to the train.

Despite accepting and enjoying her life of Trailblaze, this time things felt somewhat different. There was too much at stake to simply vanish and end up dead now. And they just had to get stranded without any way to contact the Express and leave sick March behind to be looked after by that suspicious Memokeeper hitching a ride.

Maybe asking Sunday, who is yet to settle down properly without following her around everywhere, to stay back and keep an eye on the situation was a bad idea on Alisa’s part. Even Aventurine, unfortunately roped into their shenanigans by Shuhua yet again, is suffering the consequences of their decision to leave them behind to have a nice trip as a family.

And it’s not like Alisa hasn’t entertained the idea of trying to use the powers of Repudiation, but the possibilities of what-ifs were far too great for her to risk the lives of her friends. So none of this seems extremely enthralling now that Alisa has to constantly watch her companion’s backs, trying to make sure she doesn’t need to mend them together body part by body part.

At least now that Aglaea isn’t trying to actively kill them, the group can finally relax just a little. And now that they’re about to go on a quest to kill a Titan – a God? surely not an Aeon? – Shuhua decided that it’s the best time for them to be as greedy and lazy as possible and soak in the healing waters of Amphoreus.

Maybe this too, as per usual, is a bad decision.

From under the weight of warm waters everything is coated in haze. Despite the promise of these baths healing not only body and mind, but also soul, Alisa is yet to feel any different. Being immune to everything has its ups and downs and right now she got the short end of the stick, unlike the rest of her companions.

Shuhua, as restless and as dedicated to playing a martyr as she usually is, spots Phainon first. Her mood pers up instantly, wet tail swishing excitedly in the hot water of the public bathhouse, sprinkling the droplets all over her companions. Through half-lidded eyes Stelle groans slowly, almost spitting the bathhouse water that got into her mouth. Lethargically scooting away from Shuhua to not get assaulted by her enthusiasm any longer, Stelle continues her nap in relative peace.

Noticing how nobody seems to appreciate her elation, the foxian finally decides to calm down a little, pointing unceremoniously to the faraway corner of the bath, “Look. Over there.”

Dan Heng, bored and half-invested into Shuhua’s new scheme, follows her line of sight languidly, only to be met with a picture that is a bit too perplexing even to someone like him. “Is that Phainon?”

A rhetoric question it may be, but it surely wakes Stelle up from her warmth-infused drowsiness, “Where?” With one eye open, sleep still clouding her vision, she looks in the direction that holds Dan Heng’s attention, just to finally wake up when she does spot Okhema’s unwilling hero. “Oh… It’s not that I’m judging, but…”

“That’s a little shameless even by my standards.” Shuhua snickers, a little devious chuckle, before she sinks under the water to tug Alisa up to the surface.

Finally releasing the breath she was holding, Alisa wipes the water dripping from her lashes and focuses on whatever got Shuhua act all scandalized. And considering that the foxian had little to none of said shame in her body, it must be one hell of a scene. Involving Phainon of all people, no less.

Elbows resting on the edge of the bath, he’s leaning back against the tiled wall. It's almost odd to see him so exposed, or even visiting a public bathhouse of all places, especially when Aglaea offhandedly mentioned that the Chrysos Heirs had their own private one to use however they pleased. It must have been truly an exclusive place with no entrance for ordinary people for him to be here. And considering his obvious company, it wasn’t much of a wonder why he chose to come here instead.

You – whoever you are – slowly step out of the warm waters, wet hair sticking to your exposed back; white, lightweight fabric of your robe clinging to your body, clashing with golden and crimson ink all over your skin. You reach for a bowl of grapes on one of the tables with refreshments, returning back into the bath just as leisurely, and it is only when the waves pick up the length of your hair that Alisa realizes the extent of your undress. Nothing but a thin, flowy fabric of your robe hanging loosely off your shoulders, you press yourself close to Phainon’s side and he eagerly invites you into an embrace, tucking you tightly to his chest. You pluck a grape from the wine, passing one to Phainon, brushing the pink berry against his lips. He opens his mouth, all but literally eating out of the palm of your hand.

Picking one for yourself, you pop the grape into your mouth; only you don’t get to enjoy the taste of it, as Phainon leans close to you, lips pressed against yours in an unannounced kiss. It’s a long moment before you separate, wandering hands of the hero straying a bit too far along your waist for such a public setting, but when he does allow you to breathe again, you huff and scoot away, following with a playful roll of your eyes. As smug as always, Phainon grins triumphantly. The berry stolen from your mouth must have tasted a lot sweeter than the one you offered him.

Phainon says something, slow and well-enunciated, although all the words are lost between the hum of the waves and the chatter of other visitors. You reply, much less careful and much more hurried, yet it still brings a blinding smile to Phainon’s face as he laughs freely. And when he brazenly tugs you impossibly close, with you all but sitting on his lap, Phainon seems much more relaxed, almost free, as if completely unburdened by the expectations this world placed on him resting on his shoulders. It’s as if only the weight of your body against his that truly matters for him; the delicate softness of your touch as your fingers glide along his shoulders until you bring your lips together once more.

And maybe it is so. Alisa does not allow herself to ponder on it any longer, lest it brings unwanted tears to her eyes. Jealousy is a vice, and she might not be holy, but envying someone else’s love this pure will surely drag her to hell if her past doesn’t already guarantee her a spot there. Maybe a little risk is worth a chance of seeing him even for a second.

Dan Heng’s deadpan voice brings Alisa back to reality, far away from the dangerous thoughts she will inevitably regret, “You have zero shame, Shuhua.”

The foxian scoffs, tugging on the tip of her ear to shake the excess water soaked into the fur right on the vidyadhara’s face, “Clearly they have negative shame, Dan Heng.”

 “Should we go say hi?” As if just woken up – full of mischief and yearning to wreak havoc – Stelle darts up to her feet, raining bathwater all over with her chaotic movements, “I feel like we should.”

Alisa has half a mind to stop her. It's neither time nor place and the two of you are clearly busy. Tomorrow is an important and, quite frankly, terrifying day for everyone in the Holy City, Alisa can only begin to imagine how you must be feeling sending Phainon away to battle a literal god. Logically, it’s better to give you some privacy, but has Stelle – or anyone other than Sunday, for that matter – ever listened to what Alisa had to say? The answer is predictably obvious, and whatever protests she voices are all lost on Stelle as she readies herself to march into the mayhem of her own doing.

“I strongly advise against it.”

Only she doesn’t get the chance to, tripping over her own feet, grasping for anything to hold onto and dragging Alisa along with her under the warm waters of the bathhouse. Shuhua and Dan Heng are quick to pull the two of them up, but their movements are far too sluggish under the influence of Thanatos’ power, and it does little to stop Alisa from inhaling some of the water.

“Miss Castorice…” She coughs out a greeting, although it seems to just make the matters worse as the woman takes a guarded step back.  “It’s okay! We’re okay! You just startled us.”

“I apologize, Lady Alisa. It wasn’t my intention.” Despite her rather poor repertoire of emotions, guilt is prominent on Castorice’s otherwise impassive features. Hands locked tensely in front of her, the Chrysos Heir sends another apologetic glance Alisa’s way before focusing on Stelle, “But please do not disturb them. It’s rare to see them here like this. Lord Phainon rarely has the time these days and Lady [Name] almost never leaves the Temple…” Castorice catches herself, putting an abrupt stop to her rambling, although the way she’s carefully watching you and Phainon paints a completely different picture for her sudden decision to stop talking. “Such an awful fate they were given.”

About to press for some answers, Alisa tries to find the question she wants the answer to the most, but none seem not invasive enough. Still, she imagines any would be more tactful than anything brewing in Shuhua’s head and judging by the ever-growing smirk tugging on the corners of her lips, she has a lot of those prepared already. Yet just like Stelle not so long ago, Alisa is not successful in her endeavor.

“Castorice!” Phainon’s voice is as clear as she remembers hearing it for the first time. “Esteemed guests, too.” He waves in their direction, hurriedly crossing the little distance between the refreshments table and their bath. “What a coincidence. Is the water to your liking?”

Dan Heng dips his head in lackluster appreciation, “It’s great, thanks.”

Satisfied with the answer, Phainon doesn’t offer any more questions, although the mysterious something woven into his self-assured smile is a little unnerving this time around, “If you’re free this evening you should come to the Garden of Life. My light has a way with words, her songs will not disappoint you.”

Castorice nods, accepting the offer easily. Even if Alisa wasn’t as intrigued by your relationship, she would have agreed either way. If not for the music, then at least for the rare investment sparking in Castorice’s eyes at the mention of you two.

“We’ll be there, Lord Phainon.” Maybe not everyone, most likely just Alisa and Dan Heng, but she would definitely not miss a free opportunity to listen to a ballad or two.

 “Not you too…” A disappointed sigh following his words, Phainon frowns slightly; blue eyes darting between Alisa and Castorice, he shakes his head, “No matter. I’m gonna go back now, can’t leave my lady alone for too long or she gets stolen by wild cats.” The smug arrogance paints his grin once more; Castorice – so uncharacteristically for her – looks almost amused by the nonsensical joke Phainon made. “See you later!”

He leaves in a hurry, just as fast and suddenly as he approached them, returning to your side. You welcome him, offering to take the wine pitcher off his hand but Phainon just shakes his head in silent disapproval. Opting to pour the pale peachy wine himself, he settles in the water next to you and lifts the goblet just enough for you to drink from it. And when you do take a careful sip from the silver cup, Phainon is quick to steal the wine from your mouth. Although you never seem to truly mind his unabashed behavior in the slightest, indulging it way more than you ever should have.

Maybe Shuhua is right for once, there are people with less than no shame.

Finally turning away, Alisa can’t help but muse over such unrestrained displays of affection. “He loves her a lot.” It sounds almost bitter, but Alisa is glad nobody notices. To live is to survive. To dream is to suffer. Even with her escaping the grasp of Istanai, Alisa will never truly be free unless she returns back to his side. And she can’t right now.

“He does.” Castorice is as solemn as always when she agrees quietly, her next words distorted by the excited buzz of the bathhouse visitors, “I imagine when you have so little to remember of home, what you do have you cannot ever let go. Even in death.”

It’s silent after that. Only the distant hum of the chatter and Phainon’s laughter cutting through the wall of white noise once in a while. They watch Castorice carefully as her unreadable eyes, all but glued to the glow of the sun shining over your head, get mistier by the moment. Tense shoulders, she cannot seem to find peace amongst the foggy air of the bathhouse.

“Castorice?” Stelle calls her name tentatively, but Castorice, too deep in whatever thoughts torment her, doesn’t react. Shuhua nudges Alisa on the shoulder, a little spooked by the idea of a literal manifestation of death being so lost in her own thoughts, and having no choice on the matter, Alisa reaches carefully to tug on the skirts of Castorice’s dress.

The Chrysos Heir flinches ever so slightly, misty gaze clearing up as she looks at where Alisa is still holding onto the fabric of her dress. “Please don’t listen to the rumors. Lady [Name] is not a bad person.” Coming completely out of left field, Castorice’s warning confuses the group even more than her silence ever did. “And do come to the performance, you might gain a lot of insight on that which you never considered to ponder on.” She looks almost conflicted when she says this, as if fighting with reason itself to justify her decision. Although when Castorice does get it off her chest, she seems almost liberated from her self-imposed shackles. Then she blinks, hand pressed over her chest as if she just remembered something important, “I completely forgot… I came here to fetch you, Lady Alisa. Lady Aglaea is interested in striking a deal.”

Shuhua groans. Alisa gets out of the water without much thought. Control is order and you cannot control what you cannot see. Yet again, the daughter of Repudiation is the biggest enemy of order. Only Aglaea is nothing like Sunday. And it’s for the better that she isn’t.

“I guess it can’t be helped.”

Alisa killed an Aeon once, what a demigod compared to rejection personified?

If only things were that easy.

They meet you for the second time with the strumming of a harp and your soft voice barely audible in their ears.

You are dressed far more modestly than you were back at the bathhouse, which isn’t that hard to achieve all things considered. Much of your exposed skin is still painted with golden ink, intertwined with red lines where they form some kind of convoluted patterns all over your chest and back. Your fingers run over the strings with some sort of stiffness one would not expect from a professional musician, and despite the music being nothing short of heavenly, you seem far too detached from the tune you’re playing. Even your voice is far too muted for a crowd that gathered around, and although the people are eerily silent while listening to your romantic tale of a sun’s journey to greatness, nobody is asking you to sing louder.

It's strange. There’s something off about this evening that Alisa can’t place her finger on just yet. Castorice hesitantly learns to accept that the powers given to her hold no effect on the daughter of Repudiation, so she slowly takes some liberties in standing far closer to Alisa than any reason would allow. Alisa lets her, contemplating offering a friendly hand, but deciding against it at the end. She knows better than anyone how overwhelming change can be for a person.

Shuhua, despite her initial unwillingness to join the group for a night out opting to just wallow in misery as she always tends to do at any mild inconvenience, seems to enjoy herself right now. Stelle and Dan Heng stand a little to the side, the deadpan expression on his face gives away an idea or two about the topic of Stelle’s commentary.

Phainon is sitting on the grass close to where you are, unbothered and casual as he always seems to be. Aglaea and one of the fragments of Tribios – Tribbie – are conversing quietly in the far away corner of the Garden of Life, but the leader of Chrysos Heirs doesn’t look all that happy to be here. Even the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos is present, albeit it’s a little hard to read between the lines of his permanent scowl, even more so than through Aventurine’s carefully crafted, mildly amused poker-face.

It's not Mydei’s presence that rubs Alisa the wrong way, it’s the odd absent-eyed looks Aglaea keeps throwing the Nameless that bother her. Despite a quite innocent and harmless deal they struck today, Alisa can’t help but feel even more on edge around the woman. Aglaea admitted she can only see this world through the golden thread, so why does she keep eyeing them so intently? It’s none of Alisa’s business and yet… Survival of her family is her business, isn’t it?

People give you a round of applause and you lift yourself up from the grass, bowing shallowly. Phainon is quick to follow you, taking the harp off your hands and bringing your palm to his mouth in a fleeting kiss. Castorice shifts uncomfortably, closer to Alisa’s side. And Alisa truly doesn’t want to assume anything, but from the corner of her eye she watches Aglaea’s frown deepen.

The crowd disperses slowly. Shuhua attaches herself to Alisa’s arm with a tired groan and an annoyed twitch of her ears, nuzzling against the feathers of halovian wings. Stelle is still rambling about losing her login streak in Wandering Waves and missing some important character’s banner. Dan Heng is the only one to actually care about the performance and even if usually Alisa would be the first to jump into a discussion about arts, her mind is uncharacteristically elsewhere.

With a whine, Shuhua announces that she’s craving a late-night snack before the big day. Both Stelle and Dan Heng pretend they don’t hear anything, not that Alisa expected anything else from them. Not even fighting for custody rights, Alisa drags Shuhua into a different direction that will take them to the Marmoreal Market. Maybe some dromas steak will soothe her friend’s miserable longing.

Yet as per the rules of Trailblaze, its pathstriders can’t stop getting themselves in trouble. And even now Alisa is barely quick enough to tug Shuhua behind a row of shelves full of potted plants before they get spotted by the two shadowy figures standing under the torchlights of Amphoreus’ otherwise dim alleyways. The scene unfolding before them leaves quite an unpleasant aftertaste in Alisa’s mouth when she swallows thickly. And now the fur of Shuhua’s restless tail doesn’t feel all that pleasant against Alisa’s skin amidst the heavy, warm night air.

“Is that who I think it is?” the foxian mumbles, a little confused tilt of her head, ears pressed tightly against her head.

“Please be quiet.” Alisa is trying to save them from being inevitably discovered, although her efforts go unappreciated, as Shuhua huffs, scandalized and offended.

“Hey, don’t shush me!” Despite being nothing but a whisper, the sheer force with which Shuhua delivers her line is nothing short of a scream. “You start sleeping in the same bed that smug, undercooked chicken wing and now you’re turning evil.”

Turning blind eye on the usual, albeit even more colorful, insults thrown Sunday’s way, Alisa covers Shuhua’s mouth with the palm of her hand, “Shush.”

Shuhua’s exasperated hissing is muffled, but it’s not audible enough to reach outside the little corner they’re hiding at. It’s for the better that it is that way, as the shadows grow nearer, heavy footsteps fall to a standstill under the darkness of a little shop across from the shelves covering them and Alisa can only pray the plants are enough to mask the bright fur of Shuhua’s tail.

The skirts on the back of your dress drag along the dusty ground and you don’t rush to lift them, slowly albeit deliberately walking past Mydei who remains standing near the bakery’s window. The annoyed crease between his eyebrows deepens as he catches up to you, stopping you by your forearm, the gentle touch not matching his permanent scowl.

Your gaze is planted firmly on the ground, someplace where your shadows intertwine. Mydei steps closer to you, hands moving along your skin until he holds your face in his hands, lifting your head up. “Why won’t you look at me?” He speaks differently. Less brash. Way slower and just as well-enunciated as Phainon was addressing you not so long ago. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset.”

“Of course I am, Mydeimos.” You talk just as quietly as you sing, with a tiny rasp of hesitation to your tone. Yet right now it’s mixed with something so bitterly vulnerable, it’s almost easy to forget that you are a taken woman. And with how compromising your position is, it’s all but effortless to misinterpret the situation for what it isn’t.

“I am immortal.” Mydei states plainly and you scoff.

He’s still holding your face in his hands despite your arms hanging limply by your sides. It’s hard to see under the shadows of twilight, but even in such darkness the hurt pooling in your eyes is difficult to miss. “Immortality does not take away the pain of death.”

“I am used to it.” It’s unclear whether Mydei is trying to convince you or himself, but either way it doesn’t work.

The bracelets on your arm clink against each other when you finally lift your hand to press your palm firmly to Mydei’s chest. “I told you already, didn’t I?” Your voice trembles like the strings of the harp, as if you are on the verge of tears. And maybe it is so, “Your ache is my agony. Your suffering is my anguish. I must live this life knowing I cannot aid you in your endeavors. History does not–”

Thumb against your lips, dipping ever so slightly into your parted mouth, Mydei interrupts your fervent rambling, “I wowed to battle fate for you. This hasn’t changed.” You are a taken woman yet with the way the Mydei so effortlessly throws earnest promises of eternal devotion your way, it’s easy to forget it is not he who you are officially involved with. “But Deliverer is better suited for that Coreflame than I am.”

Mydei drops Phainon’s title shamelessly, as if he is not standing here in this empty alleyway with you, holding you in his embrace so delicately behind Phainon’s back. Have you two no guilt? Does your shame really run that shallow to betray the man who loves you so dearly with such graceful ease? With his brother in arms, no less. How little self-respect does the crown prince have, to chase after a taken woman?

“You cannot defy who you are.” You whisper dejectedly, not bothered by the mention of Phainon but the fact that Mydei refuses to change his mind. You give up then, tense posture going lax as you sigh heavily in defeat, “But who am I to deny your wishes?”

“My wishes?” Mydei questions, a victorious glint in his eyes. “I have a lot of those, you know.” He steps closer and you step back until you reach the wall, Mydei’s arm against the back of your head so you don’t accidentally hit yourself against the white bricks. “I am insatiable in my greed. Or so they say.”

He doesn’t wait for any response, just dips his head down and presses his lips against yours feverishly. You reciprocate, eager and yearning, all but melting against his body until there is no more empty space between you. But even then, he still draws you closer, free hands itching under the missing fabric on the front of your dress.

Taking your preoccupied state as an opportunity for escape, Alisa once again drags Shuhua into the darkness of the alleyway. There are no words exchanged until they are far out of your hearing range. Marmoreal Palace is relatively empty this time of day, and Alisa feels like she can finally breathe properly. So many things running through her mind, she has no idea where she should even begin. All that Alisa truly knows that it’s wrong. They shouldn’t have been there to see that. You shouldn’t have been doing any of that at all. And yet...

Shuhua, however, never holds back when she has to say something, “This wench!”

“Shuhua, please.” Trying to calm her friend down is futile, but Alisa is known to enjoy suffering to its fullest.

“I have to give it to her though.”  Shuhua huffs in irritation, dusting her tail off any cobwebs it gathered during her stay at the dusty corner of an alley. “How hard is it to swindle those two at the same time?”

Acutely aware that she’s doing nothing more than playing devil’s advocate, Alisa is desperately trying to rationalize the situation, “Maybe this all is a big misunderstanding…” She knows nobody is inherently good, but she's always trying to look only for the best in other people. And Alisa really doesn’t want to believe that either you or Mydei would betray Phainon in such a way. Logic, however, is much harder to argue with.

“Her tongue was in places mine can’t reach.” An irked scoff and a roll of her eyes, Shuhua crosses her arms over her chest. It’s hard to believe such a thing is possible but once again facts win over delusions. “We should tell him about it the first thing tomorrow.”

“Shuhua…” Not liking Alisa’s tone, the foxian throws her glare of disbelief prematurely, before any stupidity can even cross her mind. But as it usually happens, disapproval doesn’t stop Alisa from speaking and she truly has had enough of Shuhua’s bad decisions in the span of these couple of months to last her for another ten years. “I am not condoning her actions, but… I don’t think this is the right time to drop something like that on him. We truly don’t need any bad blood between those two, considering they are quite literally on a quest to kill a god.”

Shuhua blinks, canines biting harshly into her bottom lip. She’s clearly searching for something to counter Alisa’s argument with but can’t find anything of equal value to reason. Eventually giving up, Shuhua sighs dejectedly, “Yeah, okay. You’re right.” Then she grins, a little manic and sort of troubling curve of her lips, as she cackles sarcastically, “We just have to kill a god, how hard can it be…”

Not harder than it was to kill an Aeon. But it’s better for Shuhua to never remember what exactly transpired inside the Realm or Repudiation.

Alisa can only hope that after all is said and done, she doesn’t have to act out on her side of the deal with Aglaea.

They meet you for the third time amongst the sea of passersby, the shining gold of your jewelry flickering with your every movement.

They spot you at Marmoreal Market not long after they successfully take Nikador’s Coreflame to the Vortex of Genesis. They pass by Melpomene, and despite calling out to her, she rushes past them without even a greeting, an annoyed growl falling from her lips as she casts one last glare in the direction of Marmoreal Diner. Confused, Shuhua follows her line of sight, ears perking up and tail wagging when she finally spots you amongst the crowd.

Against both of their better judgments, neither Alisa nor Shuhua told Phainon about their unfortunate discovery after they returned to Okhema. And considering he is still locked inside Nikador’s trial, it is for the better that he is not aware of your infidelity. This, however, is a perfect chance to finally confront you, not only about your unfaithfulness but also about the rumors floating around the Holy City.

After that night in the alleyway, Alisa couldn’t help but put her meddling skills to good use and sharpened her ears as much as possible. Castorice’s cryptic warning aside, the rumors about your person are hard to ignore when one actually listens to what the public has to say. Turns out, people seem to have very mixed feelings towards you. Some deem you an important, vital figure to Okhema’s wellbeing in such trying times: a famous bard, an acclaimed hymnwriter, a renowned poetess, a revered High Priestess of the Temple of Eternal Fire. Others think of you as a rotten fruit, slowly corrupting the well-oiled dynamic not only between the Chrysos Heirs themselves but also between Aglaea and the Council of Elders.

And as it so happens, everyone is acutely aware of your not-so-secret affair with the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos. All except Phainon himself. Even stranger thing is that despite your unfaithfulness being a well-known fact, nobody is rushing to inform the hero of it. Whether he lives under a rock or his devotion to you is that unshakable is unclear but whatever the reason for it is, Alisa can’t begin to sympathize with either you or Mydei.

Neither can Aglaea, it seems.

Goldweaver’s threads wrap themselves around Shuhua’s arm, planting her firmly in place, “I strongly advise you to stay away from that woman, Shuhua.”

The foxian clenches her teeth, and Alisa decides to intervene before things escalate someplace none of them wants to, “Lady Aglaea, good morning.”

Heavy blink of her sightless eyes, Aglaea turns to face Alisa albeit she can never truly pinpoint her location, “Good morning, child.” Despite the friendly, polite tone, Aglaea’s detachment from humanity prevents her from truly igniting the warmth in her voice. Alisa can’t blame her for it, neither can she condemn the woman for trying to protect her home by any means possible. Although now Alisa has a faint suspicion that her odd behavior during your performance had nothing to do with the Astral Express but everything to do with you. “Please heed my advice and stay clear of her, there is nothing the Temple can offer you that I cannot.”

“Of course, Lady Aglaea.” Alisa nods, agreeing with the woman without even trying to argue her case. Sometimes to reject something you need to accept it first, and who would understand that better than a daughter of Repudiation? “Please take care.”

Aglaea bows her head in a shallow goodbye, disappearing into the busy crowd just like Melpomene did not so long ago. Shuhua, still trying to come to terms with the fact that there might be a target painted on her back once more, gives Alisa a suspicious side glance.

"She's still spying on us, isn’t she?” Shuhua asks carefully. She is yet to get used to this new dynamic of being the one following Alisa’s lead for once. But to live is to survive and adapting is an integral part of survival, and Shuhua really doesn't want to meet her end here because of some light snooping.

Alisa shrugs, mumbling a barely audible agreement. Just because Aglaea’s golden thread cannot see her, doesn’t mean her spies cannot hear her. Breaking their agreement with the leader of Chrysos Heirs will put her family in danger, but despite his smug, overconfident attitude, Phainon is a good man. Sunday might be right: her kindness is her weakness ready to be exploited; but he’s not here to stop her, so what else Alisa is supposed to do?

“Lady [Name]!” It has been a long time since she needed to scream to get someone’s attention.

The people give Alisa an odd look or two, some stop to search for the source of a disturbance. You, however, head straight ahead. Box with honey cakes securely pressed to your chest, you never turn their way even when Alisa calls out to you for the second time. Some passersby give them confused side-glances; one quick look over your shoulder at the commotion, you never notice the outlanders, swept by the busy crowd of the market. Walking past them casually, you leave with only the scent of sunlit oranges, ripe pomegranates, and warm cinnamon clinging to the heavy air long after the flowing tails of your skirts disappear from view.

And so, you escape. And so, Aglaea wins.

“Can’t believe she ignored us like that!” Shuhua hisses. Angry and disappointed, she curses under her breath, icy glare digging daggers into the dense crowd of the market.

Something isn’t right at all about this. The omnipresent gaze of Repudiation calls for rejection of all, and even on the endless path of Trailblaze Alisa does not stop defying authority. Mokosha, Penacony, Amphoreus. Her guilt, her love, her longing. Karina, Sunday, Aglaea. To live is to survive. Survival calls for all sorts of risks.

“Maybe she didn’t notice us…” Alisa cannot see the golden threads, they dissolve into dust all around her, but she can spot them weaving through the market, trailing the scent of sunkissed oranges and sugary pomegranate you left behind.

Shuhua cannot see what Alisa can, however. “Stop playing devil’s advocate, I locked eyes with that wench.” But Shuhua wasn’t brought up with the oath of rejection woven into her every breath, so it’s understandable that she does not condone this doubt festering inside Alisa’s heart.

“I think it’s better we just talk to Lord Phainon.” Alisa knows it’s the only right thing to do. The only way to force you to be honest with yourself. The only way to get to the bottom of this conspiracy. The only way to not let Aglaea win ever again.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shuhua grits her teeth, even more vexed than she was before coming here. “Now come on, I need breakfast, or someone dies.”

Alisa doesn’t doubt it. She just hopes it won’t be Shuhua herself.

The golden thread trembles, yet its presence remains.

They meet you for the fourth time illuminated by the sunlight and scorched by fire, as you melt the ice of the memories of the world long gone.

It’s dark inside the Temple of Silence. Nothing but long corridors, dimply lit by torches burning deep purple flames, and imagery of the night sky painted in crimson and gold all over the white walls. Phainon is leading the way with well-practiced movements, all while entertaining Stelle’s barrage of ridiculous questions and Dan Heng’s polite yet distant commentary on some of the more captivating things that the hero has to say.

Shuhua is restless, even more so than usual since they got stranded on Amphoreus. Alisa fears it might be Shuhua's breaking point, but she will cross that bridge when she gets there and for now, they have far more pressing matters to deal with. Confronting you in your own temple is not going to be easy, but with Stelle and Dan Heng now involved in this against their will, things took a turn for the worse.

Noticing just how big the distance between them and Phainon grew, Shuhua exasperatedly mumbles something under her breath and picks up her pace, dragging Alisa along by her elbow. Phainon, finally stopping near the intricately carved door at the end of the hallway, is still entertaining Stelle’s curiosity without complaints. Shuhua throws him an apprehensive side eye, irked glow of her eyes spelling nothing but trouble for everyone involved, but Phainon misinterprets it as something it is not.

“You seem nervous.” He’s wrong, everyone except him is acutely aware of it, yet nobody is racing to correct his assumption. “I assure you, there is no reason for you to feel anxious.”

“It’s just…” Shuhua begins, a strained smile on her face, “It’s a little dark here, that’s all.”

“Oh, sorry about that. Should have warned you.” Phainon rubs the back of his head, an apologetic smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “Well, don’t worry. It’s very bright inside.”

Three light knocks. The dark, purple flames flicker to the rhythm of the drumming of Phainon’s knuckles. The heavy door opens on its own, light drowning the dimply lit corridor. For a split second Alisa’s vision goes blurry, as if blinded by the brightness of the light. It takes a second for her eyes to adjust to the new environment, but when they do, she almost wishes she stayed blinded forever. She should have known better than to trust Shuhua’s mad ideas, they’re always more trouble than they’re worth.

Shuhua’ grins, “Oh, isn’t it just great.” Dan Heng is quick to silence her before she drops any more unnecessary comments, but he can’t stop a little gasp that escapes Stelle’s parted lips.

Alisa diverts her gaze from the scene of the crime, trying to focus on something else other than the impending fight between an immortal man turned unwilling demigod and a hero acting as the muse to of almost all of your ballads. Eyes wide and pupils blown, Shuhua bites her lip to stiffen any more sounds coming from her, although most of it just seems like the foxian woman is trying to suppress inevitable cackle which is bound to worsen the tension even more.

Mydei’s arm is wrapped loosely around your waist, just to give enough support so that you don’t accidentally topple over and drop the goblet full of pomegranate juice all over the sofa. Or all over him to be precise. On your knees between his parted legs, one gold painted arm pressed against his naked chest, you’re carefully pouring juice into his mouth. He doesn’t as much as blink when some escapes his lips, sliding along his skin and leaving the dark crimson trail until it gets lost in what little fabric is covering his chest. Mydei simply slides his gloved hand along the expanse of your bare back, moving your hair away from your neck and bringing your face closer to his.

Dropping the empty goblet in your hand, you let it hit the white marble of the room with the deafening noise that makes everyone in the room flinch. You don’t seem to mind the noise, just sink even closer to Mydei, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and when you part at last, you glide your tongue along the crimson trail. Then you sink your teeth into the slope of his neck, an apologetic flick of your tongue over the rapidly vanishing indent of your teeth in his skin. Mydei leans his head against the arm of the sofa, half lidded eyes watching as you leave a trail of bites along his chest.

Phainon, for all his recklessness and flair, is awfully calm even when he positions himself in a way to cover most of your exposed body from their prying eyes. Posture lax, no tension in his shoulders, he doesn’t seem astonished or betrayed, or even simply angry. If anything, Phainon seems almost embarrassed to subject his guests to such an indecent display of affection between his – girlfriend? wife? Alisa isn’t even sure who you even are to him with the way the hero keeps addressing you – and his brother in arms. Knuckles rubbing against his forehead, Phainon clears his throat.

Mydei, unbothered by the presence of another man in your private chambers, doesn’t spare Phainon even a quick glance, “You’re late, Deliverer.”

Canines digging into her lips, Shuhua is barely holding herself together from cackling. Alisa has to admit, that all of this is sort of funny in some twisted way. But all of this snooping around just for them to end up here, intruding into whatever you three knowingly have going on. Oh, how embarrassing indeed.

Phainon, back still shielding most of the view on your nude body, tugs his coat off, “Please inform [Name] that I brought in our esteemed guests for an appointment.”

With a deep, annoyed sigh, Mydei finally looks over his shoulder, “Really now, hero? Couldn’t find any other time?” You lift your head, watching him with mild worry in your eyes as if you just now noticed the presence of someone else in the room. Three light taps on your shoulder, Mydei whispers something extremely slowly and you nod, sitting up straight, moving your hair to cover your chest. “Or person, for that matter?”

Phainon shrugs dismissively, as if trying to play his mistake off as something that is not his fault and then throws his coat towards Mydei, “They seemed really eager to meet our Lady of Eternal Fire.”

Mydei scoffs, catching the piece of clothing and dropping it over your shoulders the next very second, “Oh, I’m sure they were.”

You slip your arms into the sleeves of the coat and get up from the sofa, “Phainon.”

Despite the tender kiss you give him, you acknowledge the hero with some sort of detachment when you say this name of his. But it must be because you, as Castorice pointed cryptically all the way back at the bathhouse, are the only one who knows of Phainon as a son of Aedes Elysiae, and his true name is far dearer to you than the one he chose for himself.

Then you divert your attention to the members of Astral Express, a peculiar smile curving your lips, “Mysterious outlanders from beyond the stars. Welcome to the Temple of Silence.” You beacon them to follow you to the large marble table in the center of the room with a gentle wave your hand, the sleeve of Phainon’s coat flapping as you do so, “Please take a seat.”

They do as you say, albeit a little hesitantly, and settle into a long ottoman, just barely big enough to fit the four of them. Phainon joins you on your side of the table, immediately resting his head on your shoulder, and despite reluctantly leaving the comfort of the sofa, Mydei remains standing behind you with his arms crossed against his chest.

“What brings you here?” You ask, hand running through Phainon’s hair. “Against Aglaea’s… insistent suggestions to stay away from me, too.” There’s a little teasing to your hushed tone. You are far more playful than Alisa initially thought, way less intimidating too.

Despite Stelle expectantly watching Shuhua, nobody says anything. What is there even left to say now that Shuhua can’t hold your trysts against you for her own entertainment? And neither she nor Alisa herself were here with any hopes of actually getting in contact with the Express.

Dan Heng, however, tired of constant childish tantrums of his temperamental fox friend, takes one for the team, “We were looking for a way to contact our friends back home, and Phainon lead us here. He told us there’s a chance you can help us reach through the barrier to contact them.”

One moment. Then two. Three and then four. You say nothing, your puzzled gaze drifting from Dan Heng to Shuhua, to Stelle, to Alisa and then back to Dan Heng. You mutter something under your breath; quick, single word sentences, as if you are trying to decipher something but keep failing at doing so. Phainon lifts his head from your shoulder, once again oddly guilty shine in his blue eyes.

It’s tense, unnerving kind of confused silence that never seems to settle and only continues to grow. “Deliverer.” Mydei sighs, heavy and exhausted, “You didn’t tell them.”

The frustration in Mydei’s usually mildly agitated tone is almost palpable, and Phainon chuckles awkwardly, “I thought it was obvious.”  Then he quickly gets onto his feet to leave the table only to return a couple of seconds later with a heap of yellowish parchment, a bottle of ink and four quills. He sets everything on the marble surface carefully and you thank him, passing the paper to the group. “Apparently not. My apologies, I must have complicated things way more than I initially assumed.”

A simple complication doesn’t even begin to cover the level of mental gymnastics you three forced them into, but even Shuhua’s confused ear twitch is met with Mydei’s almost-warranted exasperation, “Don’t look so damn lost, outlanders. You’ve never met a deaf person before?”

Oh, complicated indeed. Alisa was right to doubt everything, but with the way Shuhua’s ears fall flat against her head she can guess the guilt of assuming things is catching up even to her.

“It’s quite alright.” You dismiss the sudden pitiful glances with a careless shake of your head, instead pointing to the parchment you offered to them. Phainon once again takes a seat next to you, although his posture is far less relaxed than it was before, observing carefully as Stelle twirls the quill in her hand. “Before we begin, you must give an offering to the Temple. Please describe a memory you cherish and feed it to the fire.”

Dan Heng gives you an apprehensive look, doubting your words despite doing exactly what you told him to. Stelle does the same, quickly scribbling something on the paper and dropping it into the purple flames flickering in a large ceremonial goblet installed into the indent in the middle of the table. It takes some time for Alisa to think of a memory she is willing to share with a stranger, and next to her Shuhua grins, folding her paper neatly in half and throwing it into the fire as soon as she can.

Mydei rolls his eyes at such behavior, finally giving up his watch to sit down next to you. He tugs the armored gloves off, placing them neatly near the ottoman and rests his hand on the marble, fingers barely grazing the edge of the ceremonial goblet. You give him a pointed look, the one of a concerned warning, but he dismisses you with a slight, teasing tug to the pointed tip of your elf-like ear poking through the dark strands if your hair. You are about to continue playing a losing game when Phainon once again drops his head on your shoulder, lifting your left hand up to press a tender kiss to your knuckles. Those two, despite all of their differences, know how to distract you when it works to their advantage and succeed in doing so with the ease of a well-oiled machine.

Giving up, you return your attention back to your guests with a fleeting, barely audible apology, then dip your free hand into the fire and pull out five cloudy crystals, dropping them into a silver bowl placed in front of you. Picking the magenta gemstone up, you bring the copper colored one along with it, clicking them against each other. Phainon laughs, the joke is lost on not only Alisa but also on the rest of the Astral Express, although even Mydei seems to get it.

“You two are very special. One is an empty slate, unable to be recorded.”  You begin suddenly, dark eyes drifting from Alisa to Stelle intently. “Another blessed by the gaze of your local gods. What a peculiar life you have, Stelle.”

Upon hearing her own name, despite never introducing herself, Stelle asks a couple of questions you are never meant to catch nor would ever want to answer. You just toss the stones back into the fire and pick a green one, discarding this gem almost instantly as well.

“Rebirth? How interesting…” Looking at Dan Heng, you are searching for something Alisa isn’t sure you can find. But with how the Vidyadhara goes rigid upon hearing your words, something tells Alisa it is not only a single cherished memory of theirs you now have access to. “I am sure that whatever this jade abacus you are thinking about is, it will not help you to leave this world, Dan Heng.”

Smugness on Shuhua’s face deflates exponentially once you get to the pale peachy crystal, her scheme backfiring on her so unpredictably. “Oh, an odd choice for sure, and yet…” You quirk your brow, chuckling lightly under your breath and leaning forward to pass the stone directly into Shuhua’s hands. “Who would have thought that man had it in him to…”

Embarrassed, Shuhua hurriedly hides the peach-colored gem in the pocket of her shorts. You don’t say much more, just sit quietly with an oddly familiar glint in your half-lidded eyes, well-manicured nail in between your teeth. Phainon says something that is lost not only on you but also on the rest of the group. You swipe your tongue over your painted lips, crimson hue glistening even more under the glow of sunlight, and pick up the quill to write a couple of quick notes just to pass them to Phainon as soon as the last drop of ink hits the parchment.

Phainon skims over what you written, a choked cough contracting through his chest, and he crumbles the paper carelessly. “Shuhua’s chosen memory sparked sudden inspiration in me.” You explain then, a teasing lull to your voice, while your nimble fingers straighten the parchment Phainon so thoughtlessly ruined. “I am sure it will not disappoint you either, husband.”

“Aren’t you forgetting anyone?” Mydei asks, fingers that were toying with the edge of the ceremonial goblet now completely engulfed by the purple flames.

“This one sees the appeal of wild cats just like I do…” You say distantly, a subtle shift to the air around you as you tuck the note you wrote into the pocket of Phainon’s coat. “So I have something else for you in mind, Mydeimos.””

 Despite shedding light onto the meaning of Phainon’s bizarre joke and thoroughly embarrassing Shuhua even further with the knowledge of all her previous affairs, your provocative tone contradicts your appearance. Even while replying to Mydei as if you can hear him, you do not look a slightest bit happy or relieved to be able to perceive sound once again. Instead, you hastily free yourself from Phainon’s hold, swatting Mydei’s hand away from the fire and cradling it close to your chest.

Unlike you, the prince does not return from the flame unscathed, although the burnt skin mends itself almost instantly. You were right, immortality does not take away the pain of death, yet Mydei endures the turmoil with ease. True to his promise of battling fate for your love, he is willingly walking into the scorching fires just for a chance of you hearing his voice.

Love of such kind can bring all realms to ruin, yet it is the only kind that you can accept.

As if trying to brighten the mood, a little pink creature that has been following Stelle around ever since her conversation with Oronyx, finally shows itself. Curiously peeking out from behind Stelle’s shoulder, Mem says something that only she can decipher, and receiving a lackluster shrug from the Nameless it slowly floats up to you, fluffy tail swatting Phainon across the face. You watch it with an oddly nostalgic sense of longing littered all over your face like gold dust, strained fingers gripping Mydei’s hand harder. If you know something about Mem’s origin – which Alisa does not doubt even for a second – you keep it to yourself and let the pink fairy playfully bully Phainon some more, until it is completely satisfied and settles on top of his broad shoulders, tail wagging excitedly.

“Are all memokeepers so… eccentric?” Shuhua whispers right into Alisa’s ear and it startles her, dragging her away from her lingering thoughts. “What's up with that fifth memory bubble, anyway?”

Albeit a welcomed distraction, the idea of you being a pathstrider of Remembrance makes things even more convoluted than they initially were, although that power of yours is easily justified by that simple explanation. And considering how easily Fuli extended Their blessings to Stelle, it would be only natural that They gaze upon someone so closely intertwined with memories.

Soft smile of yearning all but completely gone, you look away, returning to the matter at hand. Last, bright pink crystal left lying in the silver bowl, you disregard its existence as if it's just a figment of your imagination. The subtle shift of the air does not seem so subtle anymore.

“Thank you for your kind offerings, Trailblazers.” You speak at last, although there is some sort of tragic finality to the way you deliver your line that tells Alisa you cannot fulfill their wishes. “I must disappoint you, however. What you desire of me is far too ambitious.” Alisa already expected as much, so it does little to disappoint her, but a discouraged sigh that Shuhua and Stelle share hurts her nonetheless. Yet your deeply apologetic expression seems extremely sincere, as you bow your head, “I am not a Chrysos Heir, neither am I gazed upon by an Aeon like the two of you. I am a mere preserver of truthful memories. A dedicated historian, if you will.”

Despite not truly acknowledging yourself as a pathstrider of Remembrance – knowing little of Aeons beyond the information you gathered from their memories – you almost openly recognize yourself as a memokeeper. Just as odd as Black Swan and Reca, albeit a little less suspicious in your intentions and far less invested into the overarching plot of this adventure.

Mydei seems to find some amusement in your claims, however, if a muffled snort coming from his person is anything to go by. He tugs on your ear again, the gold chain hooked to a tiny circular earring in your cartilage dangling as he does so. It's weaved with crimson and navy gems, uncannily reminiscent of Mydei’s own jewelry and the sentimental charm of it is oddly heartwarming.

A huff from you makes Phainon stiffen a laugh, yet another inside joke that goes right above the heads of the ignorant Nameless. He presses his lips against your knuckles once more, far more reserved in his affections than he was back at the bathhouse. Mem shuffles on the spot in his shoulder, tail wagging faster at the sudden disturbance as a bright pink paw hits Phainon square in the face. You giggle, murmuring a couple of teasing apologies in Mem’s stead, yet do not reprimand Stelle to keep her companion at bay. You simply watch Phainon, overflowing fondness in your eyes threatening to spill over.

When you do turn to look at Stelle, your gaze hardens exponentially, “Natural enemy of Goldweaver I might be, but I cannot restore memories like your little friend here does, nor can my power reach beyond these skies. I am truly sorry for wasting your precious time.”

Guilty as you seem to be for not being able to help them, there is something else to the way to shift in your seat. The hand with which you were holding onto Mydei so tightly just a moment ago drops on your lap. Phainon quits his pretend battle with Mem to give you a once over; nothing too out of the ordinary, yet it strikes a suspicion of doubt, nonetheless.

The last memory bubble remains untouched, but from the corner of your eye you keep a vigilant watch over the pink hazy crystal. A memokeeper always has their secrets and all their cards are always tucked close to their chests, under a hundred locks where the destructive forces of time cannot reach them. And right now, you too are hiding something in plain sight, masking your own troubles under the grievances of the Nameless travelers.

“Your time ran out, outlanders.” Mydei states suddenly, no room for discussion left in the way he gets up on his feet to stride towards the exist. “I’ll see you out.”

Stelle is about to say something when Alisa interrupts her, “At least we tried, right?”  It's a rhetorical question and she can only hope her friends get the hint and listen to what she has to say for once. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Lady [Name]. We will be off.”

They do. Confused and a tad bit worried, they follow Mydei to the door. You wave them goodbye, but don't get up to see them off. Neither does Phainon. Spirits low, Mem hops off his shoulder to float back to Stelle’s side.

Three knocks. The doors open on their own. One last glance at you that Alisa is quick enough to steal reminds her how easily her heart aches for others. To live is to survive. To dream is to suffer. Whatever you saw in that last memory was enough for you to keep your knowledge to yourself. And it is for the best that you can trust yourself to make such decisions. Alisa isn't sure she can say that about herself and not turn out to be a liar.

Mydei is far less of a competent guide than Phainon is. The journey is far too fast and now it's evident why this place is called the Temple of Silence. None of the questions they had were answered, none if them were even brought up in the first place. At least Shuhua can sleep soundly now with her conscience clear of any doubt that she's secondhand complacent in someone else’s infidelity. It doesn't seem like enough, however.

So even when Mydei comes to an abrupt stop near the gates of the Temple, Alisa has half a mind to ask at least something. She knows he won't indulge her curiosity, the prince is not Phainon and cares not about faux pleasantries of keeping up with appearances. But as it turns out, Mydei was itching to share a word or two with them already.

“Deliverer is too soft on you, so I’m going to say it myself.” It's one way to put it, but who are the humble Trailblazers to argue with a disgraced prince of a fallen nation. “This is the last time you come here for favors of such matter. That fool might deny it and say we and the Dressmaster reached a compromise, but he made his choice a long time ago. And my pact with Aglaea is fragile and I hold little to no attachment to either the Goldweaver or the Holy Maiden.” A slow yet steady pace at which a warning turns into a thinly veiled threat, “He’s delusional and living on borrowed time. I am immortal and I cannot forget. If you bring danger to her doorstep, I will pay you tenfold.”

Nobody responds. What is even there to say to such a declaration? Even more questions than before, Alisa can't help but wonder just how exactly Phainon and Mydei came to an agreement when it came to sharing your love and how you had it in your heart heart to tie both of them down to your soul so selfishly.

Not like Mydei would ever give her a clear explanation. No longer truly human, Mydei owes the Nameless even less than he did when he was just a Chrysos Heir. All have their own memories to preserve and it's none of their business, anyway.

“You keep bringing up Aglaea but what exactly did we do that's illegal?” Stelle is rarely as tactful as she should be, however. Maybe that's why she gets what she wants so easily. Audacity gets you places tact cannot. “Is your… arrangement not up to her moral standards? Or is it about the–”

Mydei chuckles bitterly, a sarcastic undertone coloring his humorless laughter and Stelle shuts her mouth quickly. “If there's someone who has those so-called arrangements you speak of, then it would be the Goldweaver. You should ask her about it if you are that invested into other people’s private lives.”  For the first time in a long time it feels like they finally crossed the line with the meddling in affairs that do not concern them. Mydei doesn't allow them to wallow in self pity, unceremoniously showing the group to the gates. “That being said, you’ve exhausted your question quota here. Leave.”

No goodbyes are exchanged but nobody expects the prince to send them off with a warm pat on the back. Shuhua, once again melancholic, dejectedly scratches on the shiny fabric of the pincushion strapped to one of the belts of her outfit. Mem is babbling away about something that leaves Stelle in less than elated mood. Dan Heng will surely scold them for snooping when they return to their room, but for now Alisa must embrace the shame.

“And learn to hide better next time, outlanders.”

To live is to suffer. To dream is to survive.

The tears you wept into the silver bowl cover the pink gemstone like ocean water drowns the corpses of the fallen. Even in death, you yearn to preserve a memory that remains nothing but a distant dream in the eyes of those who remember.

Maybe killing an Aeon is easier than salvaging broken pieces of rapidly melting ice.

Only one way to find out.

[nightwingsgypsyrep]

So I definitely feel like I will be adding to this post quite a bit, and this first addition is coming after @jjohnnyutah’s fantastic reply, which kinda summarised the history a bit more.

As I said earlier, I was really umming and aahing about making this post, because I’m still new to a lot of the comics, so this was really inspired by what I have been able to get my hands on (literally… I started out borrowing my friend’s comics last year) whilst I’m slowly making my way through what’s available online. As it is, you can probably see that I was able to read more of the modern stuff than the older stuff so far. I didn’t really want to make a post until I had read more but hey I’m adhd as hell and intended to just make a small one in reply to the tags and it spiralled from there. I did try to find some info of what I missed online but apparently that left out a lot! So this post is gonna have constant updates of me doing a DC and retconning stuff as I learn more.

So, anyway, jjohnnyutah’s reply addressed a couple of things. Firstly was Mary’s origin as a dental hygienist, rather than being from the circus herself originally. Can’t lie, I actually love this for her. Is it super unusual from a how-gypsies-work perspective? Sure. But like I say, a lot of my cousins are Diddakois, and I kinda love the idea of Mary coming into the fold, when just as often, the gypsy partner ends up leaving it. Of course, there’s nothing to say for sure that Mary did not have Romani ancestry (like I say, in the N52 modern stuff, she was friends with other Romani characters, so she wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the Romani sphere) - I, myself, am a gypsy with a degree, so it’s not exactly like getting a different job cancels your Gypsy Card. Although I do really love the idea of Mary being a gypsy and working as a dentist for the simple reason that, although attitudes to education have greatly improved in recent years, my family would have lost their shit if I got my degree twenty years ago, as it would have been seen as ruining my prospects. So from a feminist perspective, I really love the idea of Mary having at least some Romani heritage too.

The other is Dick not knowing much about his heritage and wanting to learn more, and let me tell you, I feel that. Even growing up surrounded by it, my dad’s side of the family never told me anything. I didn’t even get confirmation of how many siblings my grandmother had until she died. My mum’s side was much more forthcoming. Like I say, I’ve had a lot less opportunity to read the (let’s face it) better older stuff so seeing what I have of it, it seemed more of a given that Dick knew something. The reason for this presumption was mostly of how much Romani he’s seen to know even early on?? As I’ve said on previous posts, in the modern day, Romani is a lot less complete for actual use, so how much he knows is impressive. But yeah, this has just made me so much more excited to continue reading. But at the same time, fully expect another post from me six months from now when I’m more caught up calling myself an idiot. Ta x

Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

[evervigilantnightshade]

Guarded - Part 7

Reader is stubborn, sassy, and has a past filled with trauma. Joel new to Jackson is dealing with his past and is struggling to deal with his new life. They meet and can't stand each other, yet there's something under all their banter neither can deny.

Reader x Joel Miller

MDNI

Warnings: Smut

MASTERLIST

“Joel, take me to bed.” She requested breathlessly

He nodded and tapped her ass, she understood and hopped up into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist. He continued kissing her neck and chest all  the way to the bedroom and then laid her down gently on the bed hovering over her. 

“So fucking beautiful.” He trailed his finger down her jaw line.

“Joel, you take control tonight. Show me what you need. Tell me what to do. I only ask one thing.” She put her fingers under his chin and lifted his head so he was looking her in the eyes. “Don’t wrap your hands around my neck.” 

“I would never. Not to you baby.” 

His hands found their way to her breasts, kneading them through the thin fabric of her bra. Arching her back she undid it, tossing it to the side, wanting his hands and mouth on her skin. His mouth instantly latched to one nipple as he rolled the other in his fingers causing her back to arch and moan fall from her lips. 

“You’re so fucking perfect Y/N.” 

His mouth trailed kisses down her body and then suddenly he pulled away. She looked down and he was standing in front her. He grabbed her foot and started removing her boot, then her sock repeating the process again with the other foot. When he was done he leaned over and undid the button on her pants, slowly pulling them off of her. She laid in front of him bare and took a moment to look her over while palming his cock through his jeans. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are? How hard you make me just looking at you?” 

She hummed and put her foot up on his thigh. 

“You gonna show me?” 

“Not yet.” He loved that he was in control this time. 

He knelt on the floor beside the bed and pulled her to the edge, throwing her legs over his shoulders. He was about to kiss her thigh when a pillow hit him in the face. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Who do you think you’re kidding Joel? You’re 56 fucking years old.” 

“And that means I can’t lick pussy?” He asked, confused. 

“No I am really hoping you can. That's for your knees.”

He chuckled and nodded while he slid the pillow under his knees. “Smart” 

“Is it smart or actually smart?”  

He shook his head and sighed. “Really?” 

“I’m just saying I….”  

She instantly shut up when he felt his finger slide through her folds. He chuckled finally finding a way to shut her up. 

“Look at how wet you are for me.”

He made his way to her core teasing his lips against her skin. Her hands gripped the sheets on the bed aching to have his mouth on her. She pushed her hips forward but he moved his mouth back and she groaned. He then slid his finger into her and she relaxed as he worked in and out. 

“Want your mouth Joel.” 

“Yeah baby? You want my mouth? You going to be a good girl for me tonight?” 

She let out a hum of disapproval but he darted his tongue out and licked exactly where she wanted quickly before pulling back away. 

“God you're such an ass.” She gripped the sheets tighter. 

“Tell me what a good girl you’re going to be for me and I’ll give you everything you want.” 

“I’ll… I’ll be good. Please.” 

“That’s right you will.” 

He pushed his face into her and latched on to her swollen nub, sucking it hard and she cried out his name. He hummed, feeling his cock pressed tightly against his jeans. Alternating between sucking and licking while his fingers pushed in and out of her. She brought her hands up to her breasts kneading them hard as she panted and moaned. 

“You going to cum for me baby? You going cum on my face?” 

She nodded her head as her back arched and he continued to bring her closer. She felt her insides coiling up, getting ready to release and she reached down and grabbed Joel’s hair pressing his face harder into her. His movements became faster and her head started swimming. She was so close, ready to tip over the edge. A slight change in movement by him, a twist of his finger inside her did it. Her back arched and she cried out his name over and over as her orgasm rolled through her body. 

He continued to work her as her spasms subsided until she would occasionally shudder and then relax again. He stood up and pulled his shirt off as she looked down at him with hooded eyes reaching out to him. 

“Need you.” She cried softly. 

“I know baby, I’m coming.” 

He quickly took off his pants and crawled on the bed hovering over her as he placed light kisses on her stomach. When he got to her breasts she grabbed his face and pulled it up to her, her tongue licking up his chin, exploring everywhere but his lips. 

“You like that baby? You like tasting yourself?” 

She hummed and he reached down and swiped his finger across her wet slit, bringing it up to her mouth. She sucked his finger as he slid his cock into her folds, coating it with her before placing it at her entrance.  

“Are you ready for me?” 

She nodded as she bit her bottom lip. “So ready.” 

He slowly moved forward and she pushed forward, taking more of him than he expected.

“Gotta go slow baby, don’t want to hurt you.” He cooed and kissed her forehead softly. 

“Not gonna hurt me. I can take it.” 

“I know you can, baby.” 

He moved into her slowly an inch at a time until his hips pressed against her. She moaned and rolled her hips and he hissed while grabbing her tightly. 

“Just give me a minute. Been thinking about this a lot and I want it to last, which I won’t if you keep doing that.” 

Y/N chuckled and nodded. 

After a minute he slowly began pulling back out and then pushed in slow again. 

“So fucking tight darlin.” 

This time when he pulled out he pushed back into her hard and she gasped. 

“Yeah Joel just like that.” 

He continued thrusting into her, every inch of him filling her. But it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He pulled out of her and she reached for him but he patted her thigh. 

“Get on your knees for me.” 

Obeying she turned and got on her knees. He grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them looking at everything she had. 

“So fucking perfect.” 

He slid into her entrance again and slammed forward using her hips to pull her back sinking into as far as he could go. She moaned his name and it spurred him on as he began thrusting into her while she slammed herself back into him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good, it was like she was made for him. 

He brought his thumb up to his mouth and covered it in saliva before bringing it down to her little tight hole. He rubbed it as he plunged in and out of her and applied some pressure. She looked back at him.

“Baby I just want to let you know, that you may be in charge right now and I’m going to let you do whatever you want with me and I’ll enjoy the fuck out of it. But know my turn will come back around to be in charge and I’ll expect the same. So before you push that thumb in, think about that.” 

Joel’s thumb continued to rub as he thought about it. 

“Fuck it, why not.” 

He pressed it in and Y/N leaned her head down against the mattress as she moaned loudly. He couldn’t tell if it was from the sensation or the thought of reciprocating. 

He continued with his thumb inside her, the palm of his hand resting on her back. She reached between her legs and began rubbing her clit. Joel could feel her clench down on him and he knew she was close again. 

“Going to cum for me again? Going to cum all over my cock.” 

 “So close.” 

“When I do… where?” He grunted 

“In me.” 

“Are you sure…”

“Can’t get pregnant. We’re good.” 

He continued his rhythmic pumping until he felt her clench on him hard and her back arched. The sounds she was making were the most beautiful thing he had ever heard and right at her peak she cried out his name. It was enough to push him over the edge and he fell forward, jerking his hips into her as he painted her insides with his seed.

When he was done he gently lowered her to the bed and laid beside her on his back, panting. 

She pulled herself over to him, picking up his arm and ducking under it, placing her head on his chest. His fingers ran up and down her back as they both caught their breath. Once he could think straight again he kissed the top of her head and then got up, and she frowned at the loss of warmth. 

“Where are you going?” She whined and he smiled

“I’ll be right back, don’t worry.” 

He disappeared out the bedroom door and she raised her head to stare at his ass. It was a great ass. She laid back down bringing her arms up over her head. She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew there was a warm cloth cleaning her up. She smiled at how tender he was being compared to the roughness from before. 

Once he was done he scooped her up and turned her so her head was now on the pillow and she crawled under the sheets. He crawled in beside her and she maneuvered into the same position resting her head on his chest. 

“That was nice.” She hummed as she ran her fingers over his chest. 

“That was more than nice darlin.” 

She laughed and then propped herself on her elbows so she could look at him. 

“You’re right, that was pretty amazing.” 

He brought his hand over and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“You are amazing.” 

His fingers traced over the features of her face and she closed her eyes. He dragged his finger down to her arm and traced the intricate designs on her tattoo. 

“Did you have these before?” 

“No, I got them about five years ago. I had burns on my left arm from something that happened before and then one of the raiders carved their initials right here.” She pointed to a spot that looked burnt but covered by the tattoo. “So I took a hot metal rod and burnt them off. Once it healed I got the tattoos to cover the parts that people would see. Gets hot as hell in the summer and I wasn’t about to rock long sleeves all the time.” 

Joel leaned over and kissed the spot on her right arm, knowing that even though she was so casual about mentioning what happened deep down it upset her. His next thought went to Ellie. Maybe she could do the same. Get a tattoo to cover the bite marks. It would all depend though on if they could trust the artist. 

“Who did them?” 

“Adam. It’s how we met. He was a tattoo artist before. When I found out I went and asked if he would do it for me and he agreed.” 

“Hmmm.” Joel huffed. So definitely not someone they could trust. 

She rolled her eyes and then laid back down again. They were quiet for awhile and Y/N had almost fell asleep again when Joel spoke 

“What happens when we get back?” 

“Well I would really like to continue doing this.” 

“Me too, but what does that look like?” 

Y/N sighed and pushed up from the bed and went to the dresser and grabbed a t-shirt, pulling it on. She then reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her chain placing it gently around her neck before sliding it under her shirt. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, propping himself on one arm. 

“Listen.” She sat on the bed and turned to face him. “I’m not a relationship type girl. I’ve told you that. I’m not going to hold your hand as we walk around town or go to the Halloween Howler with you. I’m just not like that. But what I can promise is you will be the only one and when I am with you, I’m yours.”

Joel thought for a moment. He wasn’t ready to be in a relationship right now but for some reason he felt hurt that she was deciding for them both. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe they go slow besides with her it was either this or nothing and he wasn’t ready to lose her. 

“Ok.” 

“Ok?” 

“Yeah, if I’m the only one, and this is all you can give me right now then I accept that.” 

“Thank you. Also I mean we don’t have to tell anyone.”

“You ashamed of this?” His forehead creased with worry. 

“Not at all babe. I just don’t think they’d understand. Maria and Tommy would constantly ask why we aren’t together and I especially don’t want to confuse Ellie or Gracey. Is it ok we don’t? Just to keep it simple?” 

Joel nodded though the idea of it didn’t sit right with him. 

She climbed back into bed with him and they resumed cuddling. 

“Can I ask you something?” Joel said as he kissed her temple.

“You can.”

“What the hell is a Halloween Howler?” 

Y/N laughed and then proceeded to explain it to him.

Tag list: @orcasoul

[daryltwdixon]

Could you write some Joel Miller filth about period sex? I doubt that Joel would be like these stupid men that are repulsed by some period blood. I think he'd even like the mess to be honest. It's okay if you don't feel like writing it, it's just that I am on my period and I'm so fucking horny and sensitive and I just wish Joel would fuck me senseless.

Joel Miller x Reader Mess and All

Summary: Joel isn’t the kind of man to be scared off easily. And most definitely not by a little bit of blood. smut MDNI 18+

I never know how to tag these things: pinv, daddy kink, period sex, light fingering, dirty talk

a/n: hope I'm not getting this to you too late! Enjoy this smutty period sex, ya filthy animal. Joel is all about aftercare too, the gentleman he is, so we did get a bit of fluff at the end.

Joel’s hands were everywhere, gripping at your hips, sliding up your back, pulling you deeper into him as his mouth devoured yours, hot and insistent.

The room was dark, the sheets warm beneath your naked bodies, the heat of his pressing firm against yours. His weight always grounded you, it made you feel wanted, crave— needed by this man.

Your breath hitched as he slid a rough palm down your thigh, hitching it up higher over his waist, pressing the full length of himself against you. You whimpered, arching into him, your body thrumming with need, too sensitive, too desperate for more.

“Wait, shit,” you exhaled, palm flattening against his chest as you gently pushed him back.

The sound of your lips parting, the wet smack of spit and heat between you did nothing to dull the flush of arousal still burning through you.

Joel froze, blinking down at you, pupils still blown wide, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. His hands left your body with what looked like great willpower.

“I’m on my period,” you groaned, frustration evident in your voice.

Joel made a ‘pfft’, shaking his head, already reaching for you again, his hands kneading your skin as his lips reached for your face, your lips—

But before he could close the space, you stiffened your hand against his chest, pressing firm.

“No, it’s gross—”

Joel’s eyes flickered, his expression shifting into something unreadable. His hands stopped, pausing their heavenly touches.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice low, searching, serious.

Your lips parted, breath pausing. No. God, no, you didn’t want him to stop. Every fiber of your body was screaming for him, every nerve alive, every inch of you aching for more.

But men never wanted this. They got squeamish, annoyed, turned off. You knew how this conversation always went. It always ended the same: you, needy, unsatisfied, and very much alone in bed with your vibrator.

Your teeth pressed into your bottom lip, uncertainty warring with desire. “No,” you admitted quietly, a pout tugging at your lips as you watched Joel’s expression.

His breath was warm, the scent of musk and pine and something deeply masculine filling the space between you. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark, unreadable—until they dipped lower, down to where your thighs pressed tightly together, like you were trying to hold back the need pulsing between them.

Joel exhaled slowly. His hands, gentle as ever, reached for you again.

One slid to your jaw, tilting your face up, his thumb brushing slow and deliberate along your cheek. The other trailed down, over your stomach, pressing firm over your hip.

“Then why you stoppin’ me, baby?” he murmured, his voice so deep, so rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed, but your body betrayed you, your hips shifting instinctively toward him, seeking more.

“Because…” you hesitated, cheeks flushing, voice small. “Men don’t… like it.”

Joel huffed, a low, almost amused sound. “That so?”

You nodded, eyes searching his, testing him.

Joel’s grip on your hip tightened, the heat of his palm searing through you, “Good thing I ain’t other men,” he murmured. Then, before you could say anything else, he kissed you, deep and slow, his lips parting yours like he wanted to consume you. You melted into him, moaning softly as his hand slid between your thighs, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, gripping, kneading, spreading.

“Joel—”

“Feel that?” he muttered against your lips, his fingers tracing up and down so slowly as they reached your already wet slick, “Feel how bad she wants me?”

You whimpered, your hands flying to grip at him, anywhere they could gain purchase–his thighs, his forearms, anywhere.

“You really think I give a shit about a little mess?” Joel growled, pressing his teeth into your neck kissing and sucking at the flesh there now pebbled with goosebumps. His cock throbbed against your hip, heavy and hard, his fingers still working tight, lazy circles against your clit, keeping you squirming beneath him.

“Wanna make you feel good, baby,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your throat, along the bone of your clavicle. “You gonna let me?”

You nodded, gasping as his fingers dragged down, the obscene noise of your arousal filling the space. Joel’s breath shuddered as he pulled back just enough to look.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice wrecked, his fingers sliding through your slick folds, until they began teasing your aching clit. A broken moan tore from your lips, your body pulsing, needy.

“Aw hunny, she’s soaked,” Joel teased, his thumb circling your clit, taunting. “All that for me?”

“Y-yes,” you whimpered, nails digging into his arms, “Yes, Joel,”

Joel smirked, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your leg as he pulled it over his shoulder, “Then let me make a mess of you, sweetheart.”

And with that, he pinched your clit, circling faster and faster as he held your body as you bucked beneath him. His fingers worked you into dizzy oblivion, steady and rampant, his mouth hot against your skin, his breath thick with restraint.

You gasped, reality cutting through the haze of pleasure as you felt him near your entrance. “Wait, wait—”

Joel froze, his fingers still deep inside you, his lips pausing mid-kiss against your calf.

Your head spun, your thighs trembling, the ache still heavy in your core. You swallowed hard. “I need to—” You exhaled shakily, shifting against him. “I have to take out my tampon.”

Joel blinked at you, dazed, like it took him a second to even process the words through the fog of want that had settled between you. Then, after a beat, he exhaled through his nose, slow and measured, reluctantly pulling his fingers from you, sitting back on his heels and releasing your leg.

His hands flexed, his jaw tight, his whole body radiating pure restraint.

“Alright,” he muttered, the look on his face like a toddler being told to wait for his favorite dessert, before nodding toward the bathroom. “Go on, then.”

You pushed off the bed and hurried to the bathroom, your whole body throbbing as you shut the door behind you. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the tampon, your pulse still racing, your mind clouded with the image of Joel waiting in bed, wrecked, ready to tear into you the second you walked back out.

You tossed the tampon, taking a slow, steadying breath as you grabbed a washcloth, running it under warm water, wiping between your thighs.

But then, as you turned and opened the door, you were greeted by the most marvelous, beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. Joel stood there, bare, broad, towering, his pupils blown wide, his aching cock in his fist.

“Couldn’t fuckin’ wait,” he muttered, his voice rough, before his hands were on you, turning you around, hands gripping your waist, bending you over the sink. You gasped, bracing yourself against the cold porcelain, your thighs trembling as he pressed up behind you, his cock sliding between your slick folds. 

“Joel—” you whimpered, your breath fogging up the mirror, your fingers curling tight against the edge of the sink.

“Nah uh, baby,” He didn’t waste another second. With one firm thrust, he sank into you, stretching you open, filling you to the hilt.

“Still so ready, so wet for me. Even with all your complainin’,” he groaned, voice thick, rough against your ear. “‘Joel, I’m on my period,’” he mocked, and the next thrust was hard, forcing another gasp from your lips, your knuckles white against the sink.

“Joel, it’s gross,” he continued, smirking, his breath hot against your neck.

Your body shuddered, clenching around him as heat poured through you, spreading like liquid fire. Your moan echoed against the bathroom walls, pussy clenching around him, the sensation even more intense than usual due to the added wetness and sensitivity.

Joel grunted, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled out, then thrust back in, deep and slow.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his breath ragged as words tumbled from his mouth. “You love this, don’t you? Love bein’ my filthy little thing, huh? So needy, so wet and achin’. Can’t believe you tried keepin’ her from me. All fuckin’ wet and perfect and tight, Jesus–”

Joel growled, his pace quickening, fucking into you with deep, steady strokes, his hips slamming against yours, the sound of skin-on-skin mixing with the soft, wet sounds of you taking him.

You whimpered, arching into his touch, your head tipping back onto his shoulder as he devoured you, kissing the side of your neck, biting just hard enough to make you moan.

“Say it,” Joel gritted out, his voice dark, low, commanding. Before you could even process the words, his hand slid up, rough fingers wrapping beneath your jaw, forcing your gaze to the mirror in front of you.

“Watch, baby, look at you,” he rasped, snapping his hips into you from behind, making you cry out, your nails scraping against the sink.

You were a mess—flushed, sweaty, your lips swollen and eyes heavy, your body rocking forward with every deep, punishing thrust. Whimpering and barely able to think, your body was already on the edge of something sharp, hot, all-consuming.

Joel’s grip tightened, holding you right there, making you see the way you reacted to him, his touch, his cock. When your eyes flickered up to meet his, he had a devilish grin. 

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice thick with something dangerous, something possessive, kissing the side of your face before looking back up into the mirror to meet your gaze again. “Watch yourself get off on my cock, all messy and nasty, little thing—” His other hand slid down, pressing firm circles against your clit, dragging a wrecked whimper from your lips.

“—and say you love it.”

You gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the sink, your head spinning, your body clenching tight around him. 

“I—I love it,” you finally panted, voice breaking, your eyes blown wide as you watched yourself take him in the mirror, “I love it, daddy–love your cock–”

Joel’s smirk deepened, his grip tightening.

“Atta girl. So pretty like this, baby. All mine. My pretty, filthy little thing.” Joel ground out, an inhuman noise escaping his teeth as he pulled back to watch himself disappear inside you, the slick mess between you coating his length. And God, he loved it.

Your stomach tightened, your body clenching, pleasure coiling tight, hot and unbearable.

And he felt it.

“There she is,” he gritted, his fingers trailing down, pressing against your folds again as his rhythm steadied, his thumb circling your clit just right. “Come on, baby—give it to me. Cum all over daddy’s cock, yeah? C’mon now,”

Your whole body jerked, pleasure shooting through you, your walls fluttering around him. You moaned loud, rocking back against him, desperate. Suddenly, as his fingers rubbed your clit once more, his thick length stretching and pushing into the spongy corner of your pussy, your orgasm ripped through you, hot and overwhelming, your body locking up before shaking apart in his hands.

Joel groaned, feeling you pulse around him had his breath shattering against your skin as he buried himself deep, his hips stilling as he spilled inside you, his whole body going tense before sagging against your back.

The bathroom was silent except for your ragged breathing, the heat still thick between you.

Joel exhaled sharply, pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder, his hands rubbing slow circles into your hips, “You alright, hunny?” 

“I think you may have just created the cure for cramps–” you exhaled a laugh.

Joel chuckled, the deep sound rumbling against your back as he pressed another kiss to your skin, the scruff of his beard deliciously rough against your oversensitive flesh.

“Yeah?” he murmured, nuzzling the space just below your ear. “Guess I’ll have to keep you comin’ back for treatment then, huh?”

You hummed, smiling as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close for a long, quiet moment, his thumbs still absentmindedly stroking your skin, grounding you.

Then, after a beat, he pressed a final kiss to your temple.

“C’mon,” he murmured, voice softer now, more gentle. “Let me get you cleaned up.”

With that, he finally pulled away, slipping out of you, soothing a warm palm down your back as you caught your breath. He leaned over, turning on the shower, steam already curling into the air. Joel glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes warm, steady, that familiar softness creeping back into his face.

“Water’s warm,” he said, tilting his chin toward the shower. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You sighed, stretching your limbs before stepping in after him, your body still buzzing, still humming in the aftermath of everything he just gave you.

The hot water cascaded over your skin, washing away the evidence of your shared pleasure, but Joel’s hands never stopped taking care of you.

Strong, steady palms kneaded into your sore muscles, working out the tension, soothing where he might’ve held you too tight, where his grip had branded you as his. He reached for the soap, lathering it in his hands before running it over your skin, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing you all over again.

He worked through your hair next, fingers massaging against your scalp, his touch firm but careful, gentle in a way that made your heart stutter.

You leaned into him, your back pressing against his front, your body melting under his touch.

“Love you, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing your shoulder. “Mess and all.”

A soft smile stretched across your lips, your eyes drifting closed as you reached back for him, fingers threading through his damp hair.

“Love you more,” you whispered.

Joel just hummed, arms tightening around you, holding you close as the water poured over both of you, sealing you in the warmth of something deeper than just this.

[forestofforever]

Etienne seemed to crumble as he looked at the man, tears welling up in his eyes. "Heart...I...I thought... I thought I'd never see you again." He sobbed, unable to stop this emotional response. He was so happy to see this man, even if he didn't quite understand why.

The man slowly approached Etienne, one hand reaching up to cup his face. "Oh my, I am not used to you showing quite so much emotion... but then again, you are not quite... you, are you? No. There's two." He wiped Etienne's tears away with his thumb. "I suppose that's why it took you so long. Only one side wanted to come here... but things have changed, haven't they? You're not fighting it as much anymore. I can tell. There's still two... but you're slowly growing into one. As intended."

"W...what is... what is happening to me?" Etienne was barely able to stop sobbing, the sheer sensation of finally being where he belonged utterly overwhelming him. The man sighed softly. "I'm afraid it is a rather long story... but you deserve to know. I understand if it makes no sense, I assure you, it will become clear eventually."

"The Forest... it's always existed in a plane of its own. It connects to other planes of existence, other worlds... People can fall through the cracks and end up here, they can accidentally slip between the boundary that keeps us apart, it's how it's always been... But a while ago, the boundary seemed to... come apart. The Forest is now a part of your world, slowly integrating and finding its place in your plane of existence." He motioned at the sky.

"And it appears that your world... how should I put this... it contained counterparts of the creatures that dwell here. There was a man, Benjamin." The man motioned at himself now. "He was my counterpart. We were forced to... coexist within one vessel. One world does not have the space required to contain both individuals. I seized control of the vessel rather quickly, the man I was made to share with wasn't exactly a good person, I don't consider it a loss." There was no hint or remorse in his voice, he sounded rather matter-of-fact about it.

"But that's not the only way. One side does not need full control, both sides can coexist, as long as they... merge... grow together. Become one. It's what the Crow did with his counterpart." The man tilted Etienne's head, getting a good look at his eyes. "I do believe that is where you're heading, though it seems there's still a lot of...internal conflict. It's getting in the way. You should stop fighting it so much, it'll all feel much better once you let it happen."

Alura’s chest hurt from keeping up with him but at least she war warmed up now. Her eyes began to glance around at the scenery around them, it was changing. The scenery caught her attention first, noticing the beautiful vibrant flowers. She loved nature- more so, the animals that would tend to frolic in it. What really set off bells in her head was the sky, it seemed almost as if their reality was shattering and shifting before them. Her eyes scanned the area, staying vigilant. As his paces slowed she caught up to him and remained a few feet behind him.

The voice in her head made her cover her ears- an attempt to drown it out but to no avail. After her failed attempt her hands dropped back down to her sides. Her body seemed to move on its own from this point, stepping over the branches that crawled beneath her feet. Her attention would shift from their surroundings to the back of Etienne’s head. Sure he was physically here but he didn’t seem to be conscious. With how talkative he usually was, she figured he would’ve said something by now.

The tense feeling she had seemed to fade as she fell into the trance. Keeping up with him with swifter movements, the feeling of her body feeling light- the pain in her chest not being registered anymore. When he stopped she could barely register what was happening, mentally trying to fight the trance that she had been put under. Her green eyes landed upon the man before them. She stared at him blankly before her brows began to furrow. The atmosphere around him made her body instinctively tense up. Whoever- whatever this was, they were dangerous and Alura could tell that much.

A small cough escaped her once the illusion around them was shattered. The cold and all the running she did taking an effect on her body. Her eyes squinted, scanning over the being before them. She took note of the exposed heart- what a flawed design especially of that was his weak point. She had a feeling there was nothing weak about this man. His cold expression turning into a smile didn’t put her at ease- it just made her more wary of what was hidden behind this possible nice facade. His voice made her inhale sharply, holding in another cough. Him addressing Etienne- her eyes looked over at him with a hint of concern before looking back at the being. She didn’t respond to him, besides he hadn’t exactly been taking to him.

Was this who was causing Etienne’s inner torture? She could either try to reason with him or kill him but both of those things she wasn’t sure how to do. All her clothes and items were back at his house- it was just her and a thin T-shirt against whatever this was. Still, he was being calm at the moment- so she wouldn’t try to cause any hostility.

[toffeeflowerrrssss]

ִ ࣪𖤐 — "Full Circle"

︶ ⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶

╰┈➤ Prologue

— An Itoshi Brothers Reincarnation AU x FEM!Reader — CW!

—Suic1de Warning!

— Summary:

— Masterlist:

· ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── ·

It has been long ever since I've felt the gentle yet cold embrace of the breeze caressing my skin, a bittersweet taste of freedom lingered...

As the fresh air entered my lungs, I let myself relax as I slowly remembered every stupid and impulsive decisions I've made. Such actions have resulted in making a pathetic story that I am ashamed to call my "life".

My life which contrasts so much to Shinoa's ... The name of my favorite game's protagonist.

As ridiculous as it might seem, I am not embarrassed to admit how envious I am of a digital character.

Shinoa De Rosier, the main character was of a noble bloodline. Her family had quite a lot of influence both in the social world and political grounds. In order to maintain their reputation they must act with no flaw.

However, Shinoa was unique. An outgoing personality, wanting to ride horses, hunting, running around even if it means getting filthy? She doesn't mind! Such traits were looked down upon by everyone around her and caused an uproar within their community.

So when the cold-hearted king requested a bride from the Duke of De Rosier, they immediately presented Shinoa thinking the king would dispose of her immediately. Yet by some miracle, he was immediately fond of her. That's where the game began, where Shinoa would gain the favor of everyone in the palace with her unique personality, resulting in her romancing not only her fiancé — but a knight, a servant, a marquess, and her fiancé's younger brother

Such a story would only befit fiction, more specifically a dating simulator.

But in other people's eyes, it is nothing but a childish and worthless game.

But to me...

In a world where reality is nothing but a joke, it was the only thing that brought me comfort and the distraction that I desperately needed.

To live a life where the only hurdle you have in life is to pick your destined one in a line of men who were willing to devote their whole lives to you, how could I not be envious of Shinoa's seemingly picture perfect story?

Now I finished the game, played all the routes it could offer. I felt as if there's nothing left to do.

Slowly, my eyelids lifted. The breath I sucked in earlier was now forming into a sigh.

One last time.

I looked back at my apartment, a sight that is too familiar.

It made me sick.

I tore my gaze away reluctantly, not wanting to linger any longer than I should.

Now gazing at the sight in front,

A beautiful sunset.

For a moment I locked my eyes upon the gorgeous sight before me as the sounds of the city slowly fade

Out of instinct my arms spread wide, letting the cold breeze yet again graze through my skin as my mind went blank.

For the first time, a moment of silence was shared between me and this world

....

....

....

Such silence was interrupted by a thought;

"if I were to live another life, would it be better?"

'Such a stupid thought.' I muttered

But...

If I was blessed by another life I would want one like Shinoa's... maybe better?

I only scoffed at such thoughts, I was ending my life yet I wished for another?

I chuckled slightly

Such a Juxtaposition

....

....

....

One last time I put my gaze on the sunset before me.

The view so beautiful yet it reminds me of something so nauseating,

The scenery when I made the most stupid decision my entire life to which I regret until now.

....

....

....

....

Now i have a choice

A choice where i can end my suffering by running away from my problems

or going back, and staying quiet till i can't anymore

....

....

....

....

'i wanna be selfish this time.'

with one last breath, i placed a foot forward as it hovered above my one way ticket to the freedom I've always yearned for

....

....

....

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As i was finally able to escape this hell

my breath hitched

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i was scared

after everything I've been through i was still

scared of what I've awaited to do

huh..

through and through i was still

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A Coward

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But with just another step i change it all

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just

Just one step

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I tried to move, but i couldnt at all

i was paralyzed on the spot

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c'mon

C'mon

C'MON

HE'S GONNA BE BACK ANY MINUTE RIGHT NOW

THE ONLY CHANCE I HAVE IS GETTING SHUNNED TO THE SIDE JUST BECAUSE IM STILL THE PERSON I VOWED TO CHANGE?!

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHETIC

PATHET-

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What a way to coincidentally overcome my fear huh?

Slipping as i was lost in thought earlier is what resulted to me falling off the building right now

....

not gonna lie..

thinking of nothing, as my body gets pulled down by gravity is quite peaceful

Its as if im flying, the cold wind enveloped my body was just another reason for this peacefulness...

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Huh?

Looking around i saw myself in, what looks like a cottage? Aren't i supposed to be in the afterlife by now??

As I had so many questions in my brain, I felt my head sting, making my hand land on my forehead

Uh...

Why is my hand so small?

scratch that, why am I so small???

WHAT'S HAPPENING????

.Prologue end.

Stay tunned for the next part!!

_________________________________________

Heyloo i just came up with an interesting storyline and i wanted to share it with y'all!!!

Special thanks to my dookie bear @kxniiiii

for helping me with the writing and coming up with the AU with me!! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。ILY DOOKS ♡ ♡♡ ♡

Part 2 is gonna be out uhhh when me and dooks aint that busy with school 🫶

[ask-the-golden-god]

@askstormscall

A bottle drifts to a soft fall in the library. Its weight is heavier than normal as if it was carrying something other than letter. Inside was a letter and a warm iridescent feather, its rainbow hue bright beneath the light.

"Dear Goomy, I am... not good at this! I have never made a letter before. You will be my first! I'm so glad I have met you at the party. You helped me in a way I would have never thought about. Mo'o says this was a best way to maybe reach you. I hope me and my brother will keep to work things out and I hope your days will flourish after helping me!"

*Cepheus was awfully confused by the bottle that had drifted in through the sky light in the library. Where has it come from? Why was it here? He gave a looked to Kel who shared the same expression. Seems they were not expecting anything like this to happen. The duo slowly approached it, getting a much clearer look at the contents contained within. When Cepheus saw the delicately iridescent feather in the bottle, his face immediately lit up. There was only one Pokémon who had that stunning colouring - the unique lugia he had met at the beach event! Seems she had sent him something.*

Cepheus: Yo Kel, seems things are chill with this. It’s from that Lugia I’d met.

*Kel was still confused but trusted Cepheus. They immediately floated to the bottle, carefully levitated it with their psychic powers and took both the feather and letter out of the glass container. The subtle rainbow shine on it was truly beautiful. Not something Kel had ever seen before. Ah, of course, that Lugia with the dazzling feathers. How kind of her to leave something for Cepheus. They began reading the contents of the letter to the arceus.*

Kel: What a lovely way to be thanked. See? You helped someone on that beach.

Cepheus: Yeah yeah. It is nice she gave me one of her feathers. I mean, just seeing her in real life. Wow. Most radiant, I’m telling you.

Kel: I’m sure she was.

Cepheus: Would you be able to put the feather in the treasury please? Something like this can’t just be left out in the open. Gotta store it in the right place, you dig?

Kel: Of course.

*With a quick wave of their hand, Kel teleported the feather into the safest area of the treasury - somewhere where it would rest without fear of being damaged. They grabbed a small ballpoint pen and a sheet of paper from one of the shelves nearby.*

Kel: I am to assume you want to write a letter back?

Cepheus: It’s like you can read my mind or something! Of course I do. And maybe I should add a little something in it too from me. Could you do the writing?

Kel: Sure Ceph.

“Dear most unique lugia,

Thank you for your letter. It is most kind of you to write to me! It’s been ages since I’ve had one but I dig the vibes of it! There’s just something most excellent about writing letters. Just has this vibe, you get me?

I am glad to have met you too! It’s not often you get to see a lugia of your colouration out in the open! Truly a most radical sight to see. I am also thrilled that my words were able to help you out. That’s just what I like doing, helping others who need it. I’m sure things will go well with you and your bro but remember that it’s ok if it’s not a completely smooth journey. Sometimes these things take time, you dig? Definitely wishing you luck on everything.

Absolutely dig the gift you left me. That feather? Wow. I am going to treasure it forever. So, I’m leaving you a little something from my personal collection. I’m not sure what size you are but-“

*Kel had to pause because they knew exactly what Cepheus was going to give to the lugia. They turned to look at the arceus who had already got the item next to him. A pair of lugia-shaped crocs. Oh, why did it have to be crocs? It could have been any gift. Cepheus was obsessed with them. Kel just could not understand the obsession and shook their head when they spotted them. Cepheus looked at them with his usual chill smile, ushering them on to continue with the letter. Kel rolled their eyes, adjusted their round glasses and continued writing what Cepheus wanted them to write.*

“here’s some of the most excellent footwear you’ll ever have. You see, I just so happen to own the largest collection of crocs ever. I just love them and figured you could do with a pair for your own. And look, they’re lugia-shaped! Isn’t that just the most radical thing you’ve ever seen in your life? You can do what you like with them!

Hope to meet you sometime again soon,

The most radical goomy ever.”

Cepheus: Yeah! That sounds like a most excellent letter! Thanks for writing it!

Kel: You’re welcome. I know you struggle with spelling so I’m glad to help. Though, I have to question how you’re going to see her again. Are you going to visit her?

Cepheus: I was thinking she could come here. She’d get along with Genera I think and it’d be nice to see what progress she’s made with her brother, if you get me?

Kel: But she doesn’t know where here is. That’s why she sent the letter.

Cepheus: Oh, you are most right. Yeah, ok. Just hold the letter close to me.

*Kel did as instructed, holding the letter close to Cepheus. Using one of his levitating arc pieces, he touched the letter and it immediately began to glow a soft golden light with small sparkles lining the edges of the paper.*

Cepheus: Ok, could you add a PS to it?

Kel: Sure.

“PS I’ve been able to, through mysterious, magical means, give you a way to find me through this letter if you wanna speak to me face to face again. Like, the letter will, if you request it, become a magic portal that’ll lead you to me if you want to. I know it seems completely wild but the power of goo is strong. I’m chill with keeping up with letters but just wanted to give you the option just in case you needed someone to talk to or whatever.”

*As Kel had finished scribbling away, Cepheus was looking over their shoulder, making sure everything came out ok. He seemed very satisfied by what was written. Kel rolled up the letter and gathered the rather large (well, large in comparison to them) crocs from near Cepheus’ feet. They proceeded to attach a bow to the crocs which held the letter firmly attached to the odd footwear before giving them a tap. They disappeared, leaving no trace of ever being there in the library.*

Kel: Ok, I’ve been able to send the letter and your…lovely…pair of crocs to the location where this lugia wrote her letter. The letter should adjust to being the right size for her to be able to read.

Cepheus: Excellent work my most excellent friend. Hopefully they’ll arrive without getting damaged or anything.

[kitsunexgari]

Summary: Byung-hun comes in for a photoshoot where you are working as an assistant. The head photographer is running pretty late and asks you to keep him busy. You soon find out he can't keep his hands off of you. Tags: Public Sex, Fantasy, Mild Exhibitionism, Light Dominance, Some Dirty talk Disclaimer: This is not meant to depict real people, places, or events. Story contains adult themes and all participants in these activities are of legal adult ages. Story content is not suitable for minors. Read with caution.

You have not been an assistant for long but even so, the job is very tiring. Rewarding but tiring. Initially, you thought that maybe you would be more involved with the process of taking photos. Actually taking them. Instead, you work for a pretty nightmarish and controlling witch who has to have everything just right in order to shoot a set of photos. Still, she is one of the best in the business. Clients of all walks of life, including celebrities, are constantly coming through the studio. You know that you can make some important contacts here and learn more skills to build a great reputation of your own. You learn to work with it because you know it will work better for you in the long run. 

One day she is running late. She calls you to tell you that you are going to have to take care of her next client for an hour or so because there is heavy traffic on the way back from her location shoot which she didn't take you on. You don't get to go on many of those because she always wants someone in the studio just in case. It's not too bad as it gives you time to practice your own work and take care of other things that need to get done. You assure her that the client will be well handled and there is nothing to worry about. You have done this many times before, after all. Just as you are hanging up, he walks into the studio and looks right at you. 

You hadn't had time to check the books to see the name of the client coming in and you didn't expect it to be him of all people. Someone that you have spent more hours fantasizing about than you ever want to admit. Byung-Hun. You already feel a blush rise up on your cheeks as he approaches your desk. 

"Good afternoon, sir." You say softly, unable to look directly at him. 

"I'm here to see Anastasia." 

"Yes, she's running a bit late. There was an accident and some traffic but I can take care of you until then. If you don't mind waiting." You tell him quickly, "Can I get you a drink?" 

"Sure, I have some time," He says going to take a seat on the couch, "Just a bottle of water or whatever is easiest." You nod and walk across the room to grab one of the bottles chilling in the fridge then come back to him and hold it out slowly. He takes it from you with a very charming smile and you hurry back to your desk trying your hardest not to stare at him. You sit behind your computer and try to look busy but you are worried about him getting bored with waiting. Anastasia doesn't like angry clients. She says that gives them a bad aura when she's trying to shoot. 

"I am sorry about this, it's not typical for her." You try to assure him. 

"It's fine, really, not in a hurry today." He says and glances at the TV that is on the wall in the waiting area. 

"The remote is, over there." You tell him and motion to where it is sitting on the table by the couch where he is. "At least it will give you something to do, right?" 

"Thanks." He says and picks it up. Since you don't have any clue what to actually talk to him about and fear you may say something very stupid if you have to keep talking to him, you attempt to focus on other work you have to do. Forms you need to fill out and clients that you have to email. 

You can't focus. Not only is he right there on the couch in front of you, you can smell him. It's intoxicating. You find yourself staring in his direction periodically before forcing yourself to look away. That is until the moment he catches you doing it. You panic and quickly look back down at your keyboard but he gets up and walks over to the desk, placing his hands on it, tapping his fingers lightly over the top of the wood. 

"I know that look," he says. 

"What look? I was just checking to make sure you were comfortable, sir." You say, unable to look at him once more. 

"Come on," He says, "You think I don't get that look a thousand times a day? I know what it means...I just usually don't get it from girls as cute as you." You are surprised to hear that and look up at him in shock. He thinks you're cute? Why is his voice so low and sensual? You lick your lips as suddenly your mouth has gone dry even if other places have become much wetter. 

"Cute?" You manage to choke out. 

"Oh yeah," He says and leans in to stroke your cheek, running a thumb over your lips softly, "Why keep fantasizing about it when you have the real thing right here in front of you?" All you are able to do is let out a soft squeak because you can't believe this is really happening. Can it be? You have to be dreaming again. That or the stress of this job has caused you to go completely insane but, does that matter right now? You aren't sure that you care. 

"You're serious?" You ask him. 

"Very serious, been awhile for me too...get so busy and lonely. This life isn't all it's cracked up to be and didn't you say she's running late?" He asks. 

"Yes but," 

"Shhh," He presses a finger over your lips gently and you go silent. You have no desire to contradict him and you are supposed to take care of as well as entertain the clients right? It would be bad for business if they got bored and left. "Stand up, come on." You nod stupidly and get to your feet. He looks you over before stepping around the desk and pulling you towards him. With a hungry glint in his eyes he captures your mouth in a kiss. His lips are much more soft and perfect than you could have ever dreamed of. 

When he pulls back you just stand there, staring at him breathlessly. He quickly shoves a few things off of your desk, grabs you by the hips and bends you over it. His hands run over your back to your skirt which he shoves up over your ass, gives it a nice firm slap with his hand causing you to yelp. His hand moves over the back of your thighs and between your legs. You mewl softly, when you feel his fingers on the crotch of your already soaked panties as he starts to tease you with those perfect fingers. 

"You really do want this, don't you?" He leans down to purr in your ear. 

"More than anything..." You gasp. He chuckles softly and slides your panties down, pressing your head to the desk as he unzips his pants. You can hear it but can't quite see what he's doing. Not that it matters, you wouldn't even care if you were blind folded. He moves in closer, you can feel him teasing your opening with his cock, which only gets you to moan, then whine, before he thrusts in. Firmly yet some how still very gentle. You groan and close your eyes as he starts to to move. Each time he thrusts he gets in a bit deeper. One hand holds your hair tightly, the other grasps your hip, enough that you are sure his fingers will leave bruises on your skin but you welcome that more than anything. 

"Like this?" He purrs breathlessly as he moves. He's good at this, far more than you could have dreamed up yourself. Even your own fantasies aren't this good. You close your eyes and moan again. 

"Yes...harder....please?" You beg. He starts to speed up, seemingly hitting every right place inside of you. Pleasuring nerves you weren't even sure you had. You hear him moan and a shiver runs through you, he starts to work his hips faster. You rock back towards him as the intensity rises. The heat inside of you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the waiting room as he fucks you nice and hard. 

"Are you close? Huh? Going to cum all over my cock like a good girl?" He breathes. 

"Y-Yes...fuck...please let me cum!" You cry, wanting nothing more than that. He starts to pound into you at a feverish pace until you hit your climax and cry out. Your cunt clenching around his cock as you hear him groan loudly, one last time, as he cums too. His motions erratic, kind of jerky, he all but collapses on you, breathing down your neck as he licks and kisses at the skin there for a moment before pulling back. You feel him slip out of you and whine. You know you're going to miss that and it will be hard for anyone to top ever again. 

By the time you recover so you can grab your panties and make yourself decent again, he's already headed back to the couch. A grin on his face as he sits down and grabs his water bottle. You look at him bashfully as he takes a sip. Then you clear your throat, knowing that you are going to have to excuse yourself to get cleaned up. 

"I uh...should get cleaned up." You tell him sheepishly. 

"Alright," He says, "But don't stray too far, might have to go for round two if Anastasia keeps me waiting any longer." 

[hockeyboysimagines]

Omg you have to write about that scene now! Imagine lib being like "I mean I can stay here for a couple of months and watch over the place." Joel looking at her like she's on craxk lol l

"I'm not getting in the car!"

“Traded?” Libby said slowly peering at him through her glasses. She looked both surprised and confused and a little bit sad as he explained what was going to happen next.

“So you have to leave tomorrow?”

“Yes.” He said with a heavy sigh as he stood “So we have to get packing. We’re gonna pick up frosty on the way. Just put some of the basics in your suitcase. Clothes for a few days, whatever other stuff you think you’ll need. Anything else we can just buy when we get there and-what?” He said stopping when he saw her expression.

“I just-I don’t want to go.”

He frowned so deeply that his lips nearly fell off his face and he looked at her like she was crazy “I’m sorry. What?”

“Not like I don’t ever wanna go. I just figured you can go and then during the break I can make my way up there. I’ll just stay here and pack and stuff.”

“If you think for a single second that I’m leaving you here, alone and pregnant by the way in case you forgot, you’ve got baby brain. Or your on crack. Or both.”

She frowned “How do you know about baby brain?”

“I read. Don’t change the subject. You’re going.. end of discussion.”

She raised her eyebrows and leaned back crossing her arms defiantly “No I am not. I’ll get there when I feel like it. End of discussion.” She stood to breeze past him and he swiftly turned her by the shoulders in the opposite direction and started to steer her to their bedroom but she stopped walking and planted her feet.

“Libby. There’s two choices here. You can pack your stuff and get in the car, or you can pack your stuff and I can put you in the car. Why are you being so difficult? Your gonna let me go all the way up to Canada with Frosty and leave you here? That’s ridiculous.”

“I just-I-“ but a tear ran down her cheek and it made sense.

“I don’t wanna leave this place either Lib.” He said glancing around their house as he pulled her into a hug “But we don’t have a choice. And I need you to come with me. Please.”

She sniffled and nodded slowly against his shoulder “What if we hate it there?” She whispered.

“Then at least we can hate it there together. Just us. And you know, frosty of course.”

Libby chuckled and wiped under her eyes “Of course. Can’t forget about our third wheel.”

Joel laughed and let go, walking past her towards the room “He says your the third wheel!” He called over his shoulder.

Libby rolled her eyes and followed behind him watching as he pulled their suitcases from the closet. He smiled as he set hers on the bed and flipped it open before reaching over and grabbing the sonogram picture off the vanity and placing it gently inside “Now that we have the most important thing. Let’s get the rest.”

[demadogs]

Since you wanted Byler asks: How do you think they will build up Mike's feelings, like slowly show to the audience that it might just be requited? And what could be the scene that fully confirms it is requited (presuming before an actual kiss scene)?

i am once again pushing my Mike Gets Vecna'd agenda! i've talked about my reasons why here but essentially the short version is, max says that vecna targets people who have something thats haunting them. mike is the perfect target for this. he is ashamed of being gay and hes pretending to be someone hes not ("its forced conformity. thats whats killing the kids"). i think mike will get vecna'd and vecna will taunt and torture him for liking will and thats how the audience finds out. and its also how el finds out. she was piggybacking. i've said it before, but i think it would be great if vecna used "its not my fault you dont like girls" against mike, and that could be the line that confirms it to the audience.

i also know that the duffers and everyone have been yapping about will being a huge threat this season, so im not denying that he is also likely to be vecna'd. i think vecna wants to hurt will and his method of doing so will be to hurt mike. the way vecna tortures will is to torture mike. and i also think will figures this out.

we leave off with will saying vecna is hurting though, so i think vecna is limited in what he can. i use vecna as a verb just for simplicity's sake, but it'll likely be a different method of getting in peoples heads than we've seen so far. it wont be like what max went through or even nancy. it'll probably be more like the early seasons because vecna has been getting stronger with each season and now he may be starting from square one. it might be like barb (only he doesnt die).

as for hints that his feelings are requited, i think there will be little things throughout the season that clue into mikes feelings before he gets vecna'd. similar things to what we saw in s4. hes awkward about physical touch with him. he and el kinda feel forced. but it would also be interesting if once he learns that vecna targets people who are hiding something, we see him visibly stressed about this. he knows hes gay and he knows he likes will. he might know immediately that hes at risk of being vecna'd but he can't tell anyone without outing himself. the audience might see this distress in mike and start to question what he could be hiding. maybe he hears this news and immediately looks at el or will. probably el. because he feels really guilty for still being with her knowing he doesnt love her.

my confidence in mike getting vecna'd being the way the audience and el finds out hes gay has wavered a bit since s4 came out. i dont want to imply that im 100% convinced this will be how it happens the same way im 100% convinced byler will happen. this is how i would write it if i was in the writing room. i think it would SLAP, but this is more of a "i want it to happen" thing, not a " i think it will happen" thing. but i genuinely have tried many times to think of another way it could go down and i just always go the vecna route. i know theres plenty of other possibilities but i only have eyes for vecna'd mike. its such a perfect opportunity. i really do hope it happens like this.