#and open that space for someone else who fits better. who. who settles you and makes you feel comfortable and at ease.

[muntitled]

Indebted

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: He wouldn't call it jealousy... He just wasn't very fond of sharing his toys.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Jealousy Language, Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Caning, Forced Orgasm, Controlled Orgasm, Dumbification, Impact Play, Blood Play, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Rough Sex, Blood Play, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

4k words

"Seriously, if it weren't for your help, I'd probably fail this module-" you meet him at the door, your Salesman, who's come to play one of his games. He arrives just as you're ushering someone else out.

"It's honestly my pleasure," you say, "You've made me feel useful."

As you speak, you open your front door to reveal your Salesman standing on the opposite end of the threshold.

You hadn't been smiling, not until you saw him standing there in a crisp, well-fitted navy blue suit. He's not looking at you. Not immediately. His eyes are trained on the boy you're standing beside. The one who's slipping on his sneakers, still murmuring about how incredibly grateful he is for your tutoring.

'It's nothing,' you replied modestly, even though it was most definitely not nothing to dedicate your entire Wednesday afternoon to tutoring. The boy is a first year and budding with the need to get better in psychology. His essay would have been flawless, had it not been for the grammatical and spelling errors that plagued the page. You'd both sat for the majority of this Wednesday afternoon hacking through the issues and improving on his spelling. It was endearing. To be in university and still need a spelling tutor.

"Thanks so much for the help." The boy tries to maneuver his lanky frame past your Salesman who takes up the majority of the space by your little doorway.

"See you next week." He shoots you a small smile before giving an uneasy glance to your Salesman.

"Hello." Says the Salesman, so painfully formal it causes a wave of unease to swell. He peers down at the boy like a tiny little thing.

"H-Hey." Your student replies before thanking you once more.

When he leaves and it's just you and the man you're paid to please every Wednesday evening, an uneasy sort of silence settles between you both.

You're smiling up at him.

And he's smiling down at you but it's different somehow. Tighter. Not a genuine smile at all.

Although admittedly, none of his smiles were genuine. His entire face was a carefully orchestrated scam, to get any suspecting victim to trust him.

And yet somehow, this smile feels more phoney.

Like a tempest is brewing beneath.

Before you're able to dissect it further, he's already stepping closer, letting his large, elongated shadow fall on you. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"The last time you came to my house, you killed someone." You lean against the door, your hip leaning against the wood as you fold your arms over your chest. His eyes zero in on the movement and a rare occasion occurs: You feel powerful. That's the last thing you've ever been made to feel in his presence.

"It took a week to get the smell of blood and death out of my room." You continue.

He lifts his hands in front of you, showing the briefcase that hangs from his heavy fingers and the blisters coating his palms. Like a magician convincing you his hands were clean, "I come in peace." That deep and gravelly vibrato veneering his voice causes a tantalizing hum to run all the way down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You step aside, staring blankly ahead of you as he steps into your house, bombarding everything with his presence.

From his brisk walk alone, trudging into your apartment like he owns the palace (which he regrettably does) you almost immediately realize that something is wrong. You are not under the impression that you've done anything to make him angry but unease still rolls in your stomach like a tempest that's brewing. When you make it into your adjoining living that bleeds into the kitchen, you find him standing in the kitchen. He lowers his briefcase onto the counter before resting both his heavy hands there.

You move to the other side of the counter, leaning down- giving him a more than perfect view of the cleavage spilling from your dress. You hope it might appease him as you try to wrack your mind for possibile slip-ups that would've caused this terrible silence.

This little-to-no-conversation between you both makes your dynamic feel like the transaction that it actually is: a girl, who needs her university fees paid and a sadist who wants his needs met. Feelings weren't in the equation and yet, your heart stops when he asks,

"How was school?"

"School was school." You reply, sounding pathetically excited to finally hear his voice since the moment he entered your little home.

"Although," you peer down at your jittery fingers on the counter. Your nerves are shot to hell as you admit, "I don't know how proactive I'm going to be tonight-”

He was a ruthless dominant, never failing to leave you absolutely spent by the end of the night. It left you with great discomfort to not be able to perform to the greatest of your abilities during these sessions. “I'm so tired... I've got this psychology quiz and-"

"Who was that?" His questions cut through yours like the tip of a hot knife.

“Who was who?” You ask.

He only smiles before turning his back to you, frantically pulling open cupboards as he says, “Rice. Where's the rice? Do you have rice?”

“The cupboard in the bottom row- Who are you referring to?”

He pulls out your tall container of rice and you watch him round the counter with it in his hands. “This place is so fucking small.” He says, popping the lid of the container, “Reminds me of my childhood home.” He stands right in the only open space in your apartment and all you do is watch as he tips the container over, watching millions of rice grains scatter to the bare floor.

“THAT'S MY FOOD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-”

His voice is like molten lava when he looks down at you and points toward the ground. “Kneel.”

You feel nothing but cold air slide across your exposed arms when he trudges back to your little kitchen. Your mind reels and your stomach sinks and sinks and sinks- burning a hole through the rest of your organs.

“Am I being punished for something?”

“Be a good girl and kneel on the rice.” He says and because you were nothing but a slave to the dominance in his voice, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. From behind the kitchen counter he watches your face contort into unmistakable pain as the rice grains dig into your knees. He takes a while but soon you're fully kneeling on the floor. He rounds the counter once again until he's standing before you.

“That… child that was just here,” his voice is eerily calm as he caresses your cheek, “Who was that?”

Had you been in any other situation, under vastly different circumstances, you might have looked for the urge to laugh. His blatant jealousy of some university first-year was nothing if not laughable.

“He's just a friend from class- ah.” It almost becomes unbearable but for the sake of your self preservation, you know not to get up.

He continues to caress you, loosening his tie as he asks. “Which class?”

“P-Pardon?”

“You mean to tell me you only go to one class?” He snaps and you fight off tears, “What the fuck am I paying for?”

“You're paying for me to get my psychology degree.” You reply with feeble words, trying to put away the thought of all the little stabbings plaguing your knees.

“And does that entail sleeping with your classmates?”

“What?!” You screech as he walks away. You're suddenly left without nothing to hold onto and you sway forward, your palms landing on more rice.

“Y-You know I don't do that.” You cry, feeling the sting more from the accusation than the pain of all this bloody rice, “Y-You know I don't sleep around- You know I don't talk to anyone-”

You hear his briefcase click open. From your vantage point on the lowly rice-filled floor, you cannot see what he's taking out. It fills you with more dread than you've ever experienced before. Which was utterly ridiculous.

With him, dread is a thing you ought to be accustomed to. Dread is where you live now. You ought to get comfortable with it.

“Such a shame.” He tsks as he finally rounds the corner to reveal whatever it is he's gone to go fetch. His dress shoes clack against your recently varnished floor and you breathe heavily. The pain had subsided- or perhaps you've gotten used to it- which scares you more than anything. He's messing with your pain threshold. Causing you to build a tolerance for certain things and that terrifies you.

Hidden under all that terror was unmistakable lust.

God help you.

“I thought we were making progress, you and I.” you see the cane first. Made of rattan, it hangs from his strong hand corded with tense veins. A gleaming watch is secured around his wrist and you're already shaking your head as you slowly look up at him. Now the tears are right by the doorway. No matter how much pain he forces you to get accustomed to you could never survive this. Your body still has limits.

“He just asked me to help him with his spelling- Please!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spelling, you say?” he pats down on your head, eliciting a dizzying wave of subordination as he says, “I think you've just given us our game for tonight, Doll.” He bends down, knees bending until he's somewhat closer to your height. He's still far too big for you. Far too much. You try to crawl backwards, you try to crawl away but he grabs you by your face. You're quite literally being expertly manhandled as he turns you around until you're on your knees in the opposite direction.

“Please…” You're begging but you don't know what for. Once his games were set in motion, nothing could stop him.

Your movements still when you fill him lower his large hand onto your backside. It's so big and warm and you momentarily forget about the rice digging into your skin. He slowly lifts up the skirt of your dress, revealing your underwear beneath.

“Our little Spelling Bee,” he lowers your panties down your thighs, causing a shiver to wrack through your entire body. It's pointless to hide how affected you are by every little thing he does.

“For every word you spell right,” he lifts your leg for you, giving you momentary reprieve from the pain as he manoeuvres you out of the underwear, “You get to cum.”

You'd never felt more degraded: being forced onto doggy style onto a million grains of rice while this man lets his fingers graze over your exposed cunt. He parts your folds and a wave of embarrassment rolls over your face. It's all so normal to him though, just sticking his fingers inside your cunt. He does it with the professionalism of gynecology and all you're able to do is stare blankly ahead while he prods at you.

“We can't make things too easy, though, so you're gonna keep this little thing warm for me while we play,”

You're craning your neck back, trying to get a look. “What thi-”

You release one hoarse gasp when he inserts something round and bulbous and vibrating, straight into your cunt.

“Th-This isn't a game. It's a punishment.” You say through gritted teeth, trying to fight off a moan as the vibrator hums inside you, “I've only ever had sex with one person-”

You. That voice pipes up in the back of your head, feeble as you felt. You think back on the time you gave him your virginity. It had been a bloody affair.

The second his cock ruptured your hymen and the blood began to coat your thighs, it only made him ravage you more. You'd gone to bed crying that night, your tears soaking into your pillows. You were unable to get up and head to classes the next day. All that pain and yet you also felt so incredibly fulfilled. The pain was a godsend.

But this pain? It's angry.

He's angry and he's punishing you for it.

Silence follows your pleas.

“Are you done?” He asks and your shoulders slump as the tears begin to fall. The urge to grind down onto the vibrator coupled with the rice stabbing your knees puts you in an odd predicament. The inner workings of your body is being made a fool of and he's the root cause.

“I'm afraid you've gotten too comfortable with me-”

“Comfortable?” You scoff, whipping your head back to glare at the man watching you with calm eyes and raised eyebrows. “I could never feel comfortable around you.”

“And you've forgotten your place.” He smiles before standing to his full height, “Letting little boys over to your place-”

“We were studying-”

“I've gone soft on you as of late.” He lets his other hand drag across the length of the hard cane. “Shame on me. It's clearly deluded you into forgetting about our arrangement.”

He steps around you until he's once again standing in front of you. “You've forgotten your place as a thing.”

He grabs your face. “My thing.”

You do a very wrong thing then.

You moan.

It's soft and insecure and so dreadful but you moan

His eyes search yours. You can see the pleasure diluting them. Causing them to go as round as saucers.

He wants to lean into that sound you just made, but he's still furious with you and that sends you into a spiral.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay-”

“So you admit you're a slut?” He asks, inches the buttons of his blaze as he readies his assault. “You whore yourself out to that little boyfriend of yours.”

"Boyfriend?” It's laughable. “Me?”

“Are you condescending me?” He asks darkly and you screech in frustration.

“You know I don't talk to anyone- Why are you so angry with me!?”

“You haven't seen angry, Little girl.” His face is calm. Dangerously so. “You haven't fucking seen angry.”

A shiver wracks through your body as you look up at his cold dead eyes.

“Fine.”

Whatever it takes.

“I am a slut-” you really weren't and the words barely register as truth but you're scrambling as he steps away from you. His hands folded in front of him and he appears oh so in control as he says, “Your first word is Gorgeous.”

You breathe out as you try to refocus enough to successfully spell the word.

“G-Oh.. fuck.” Your cunt spasms around the device and your eyes roll back. You're rocking backwards and forwards, frantically searching for friction that just isn't there. He loves the show you put on for him, writhing on the floor like a puppy in heat. He barely contains his glee as he raises his hand and says, “Wrong.”

“W-What!?” you blink, trying to shake away your pleasure-filled daze, “N-no that wasn't my final-”

“G-o-r-g-e-ou-s,” he says smugly as he moves until he's behind you. Your body tenses and the world shatters when he darkly repeats, “Wrong.”

The cane cracks through the air before it ever lands on your backside. The word ‘sting’ doesn't begin to cover the utter agony that blossoms across your asscheeks. All you know for all those seconds is white hot pain. Everything is at attention, and your body vitaly tries to urge you to take care of the inflicted wound but you can't.

“Sane.” He's breathing heavily as he walks over to stand in front of you. He's getting riled up, a strand of black hair falls in front of his almond eyes. His shoulders rise and fall and rise and fall. Seeing you get caned once does unspeakable things to his resolve. “Your next word is sane.”

Too easy.

"W-Which one?" You blink through the pain, trying to will the tears away. The second you slipped into self pity, it'd be over for you. "S-Sane is a homophone.” You say thickly. The pain. The pain. The pain. “There's Sane,” you glare up at him through wet lashes, “Which you very much aren't-" that amuses him greatly. You're regrettably far too happy to hear the dark chuckle. “Then there's Seine, like the fishing variety-”

He places his hand on your head. “Clever girl. I thought you didn't have a dad.”

“I don't,” you hiccup, “I just like fish. Men aren't the only fishers in the fucking world.”

“Smart mouth.” He pulls away again until he's standing at his full posture. “You use it like that with the boy from Psyche?”

Your shoulders slump and you don't care about the desperation in your voice as you reaffirm, “I'm telling you I haven't done anything-”

“Seine as in the fishing practice. Spell it.”

“S-E-I-N-E” your eyes are squeezed shut as you take a strike from a whip that never comes. Your eyes that had once been squeezed shut, slowly flit open and you're amazed to see his grinning face right in front of you. Every wrinkle running like tributaries around his eyes. The smile lines. He's so handsome it's devastating.

“Correct.” He says. “You're allowed to cum. Congratulations.” Just those few words have your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you begin to rock back and forth. You lean into the pleasure like a warm and fluffy blanket during aftercare. It's a godsend and it has you moaning and whining into the air.

“Let me give you a hand,” he says, before stopping to deliver that signature, “My little winner.” He brings you in close, your hands cling onto his forearm while the other reaches behind you. He delivers a kiss to your forehead as his fingers find your puffy clit.

“I'm gonna-”

“Cum for me my Clever girl. Cum for me before I change my mind,” There is nothing but him. He consumes you as you fervently hump against his hand on all fours like the animal he reduced you to. Your hips move on their own accord and in his eyes, you can see his own pleasure mounting. Its in the gravel in his voice when he clears his throat and says, “Thank me for letting you cum.” your orgasm crashes down on you and it's ferocious. It's vicious. It's guttural. The rice underneath you still serves as a reminder of your punishment and that somehow has you coming harder.

“Thank you for letting me cum Sir,”

his eyes flutter shut and his chest expands as he basks in your servitude. He breathes it in, letting it settle in his bones, making him feel as important as he needs to.

“N-No more, please,” you whisper once the orgasm passes. He doesn't switch off the vibrator and soon the pleasure bleeds into a painful discomfort. the aftershocks rattle through your body as you drift into overstimulation, “Please-Done-” you became horribly useless with your words when he had you like this, and he watches you so intently as if not only turned on by your torture but so completely intrugued by it. You intrigued him.

“Stop-” You begin but he chuckles as he moves away from you. He straightens his suit and readies the cane, “Why? You’re not even bleeding yet.” He says, “Suck it up.”

“Oh my god, I need to come again,” it rolls through you quite literally out of nowhere and you gasp as you try to keep it at bay. Cumming without having won a round was a breach in the rules of the game and you didn't wanna do that.

“Well then, I guess you better spell the next word for me.” he says with a smile.

You swallow thickly. Your previous win elicits a tiny sliver of confidence and spelling is something you excel in so you steel your nerves. You breath in deeply and stare blankly ahead.

“Honorificabilitudinitatibus.”

You immediately look up at him.

“Latin words arent-” another aftershock rams through you. You're so close to cumming completely hands-free. “L-Latin words aren't allowed.”

Nothing but a dark chuckle escaped him at your expense. “I had no idea you were making the rules.” He says sarcastically. “Had no idea the cane's in your hand.” That draws your gaze to the cane, leaning in his palm.

Point made.

He could throw in whatever wild-card word he wanted because he held the cane.

“H-o-n-o-r-” you make the mistake of looking up at him then. He's gazing down at you with his head tilted slightly to the right. His cane behind his back as he leans down slightly.

“No cumming,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Disqualified.”

“B-But I didn't-” even as you say those words, you feel it. The lightning zipping through you like a phantom. A ditzy sort of smile flashes across your face as you succumb to the pleasure being forced out of you. “F-Fuck-” its so painful and so fucking good you're seeing stars. He runs a hand through his messy hair and the cane comes down on your backside. This time it draws blood.

“I'm a rusty old man, glad to see I've still got a firm grip,”

“P-Please-” You're still caught in the world of unicorns and rainbows. Your orgasm is center stage, in spite of all the pain. You didn't even know your body could cum for this long. You didn't think it was possible but here you are, riding wave after wave of pleasure induced by a vibrator in your cunt while he canes you almost mindlessly.

He transcended every realm of physical possibilities.

He's breathing heavily now as the cane falls to the floor. The end is bloody. You stare down at the floor while he moves behind you.

“Don't forget, this is a transaction,” Behind you he kneels behind you, his fingers graze your backside, “This is about you avoiding student debt for the rest of your miserable life. A life you'll probably spend married to some depressed drunk who beats you and doesn't even let you cum.” A hand pulls you back by your hair until you're seated on your haunches. Skin had broken.

Your blood drips down your backside like a marble statue in the rain. There were marks. Scars.

“You're indebted to me.” He says behind you. “Say it.”

“I'm indebted to you.”

“Thank me for hitting you, Doll.” His hands drift over your body. The softest touch after these moments of brutality.

Th-" You struggle to catch your breath as he digs his fingers in your cunt, finally freeing you of the vibrator that rattles to the floor, “Thank you… for hitting me.”

He hums into your hair, smelling you, feeling you. “You're welcome, my little winner,”

You hear the sound of his zipper, and frantic movements behind you. You're utterly spent. You'd let him do anything he wanted. Anything at all.

“You look so pretty, Baby. Look at you,” his fingers swipes down the arch of your back. He brings his hand around to show you the crimson dropping from his index. Almost automatically as if the two of you were in communication far beyond that of human understanding, he brings your finger forward the same time you dip your head lower and roll your tongue out. Until the taste of your own blood drawn from all his sadistic torture is wiped along your tongue.

He groans. “I wanna jerk off with your blood.” He admits, “Fuck-”

You gasp, beginning to rock on haunches as if you could still feel that vibrator inside you, “Please- don't say stuff like that-”

This was bad enough.

You were bad enough.

He's already corrupted you to a point where you didn't even recognize yourself.

Where is the quiet, shy girl you had been? She's drowning under all the blood he'd spilled to make himself cum. She's buried under all the pain, all the turmoil and all the damn torture.

You don't miss her

"Pl-lease fuck me, I need it." Your voice is hoarse and you realize you're making demands but still you peer at him over your shoulders. Your tired eyes plead with him.

“I never ever ask you for anything. I've let you control everything.”

While you speak, your voice deep and hoarse, his hand is already moving over his erection. He bends you forward, until you're in doggy style again. Fabric rustles. Your limbs are trembling.

“For once, just grant me th-” the words are barely out your mouth before he's shoving his cock all the way inside you.

“O-Oh God!” Your eyes squeeze shut as he fucks you on the floor like a rabid animal. You try to crane your head back, to watch him ravage you.

His hair is a mess, his tie completely undone. He's everything he tries to hide from the rest of the world. Nothing but an untamed beast.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight-” he says, resting his hands on bloody ass. He guides your movements, pulling you roughly down on his cock until you're screaming into the open air. You're both like animals. You've both regressed to the very basis of your instincts.

“I need to see your blood on my cock,” He's already pulling out of you. The sound reverberates with finality all around the apartment and you cry. It's all you're able to do as you crane your head back to watch him stroke his cock with a bloodied fist.

“Are you ready to cum for me again, baby?”

Your lips are quivering as you rock backwards urging his cock in, “L-Like you won't believe,”

“Then cum for me, Princess.” He says, sliding his cock back inside your overstimulated cunt. Your orgasm is instant and swift and it rocks through you, tightening your cunt around his cock like a vice. His movements grow more frantic as he fucks you through it, keeping a firm grip on your ass.

Your mouth falls open when you realize he's fucking his own cum and your blood back into you and its all too much. He throws his head back when he cums, letting his hips stutter against your ass and the world spins.

“You're s-such a fucking slut,” he laughs manically. You've quite literally given yourself to a sadistic monster and the post nut clarity is vicious.

“I want to take you out,” he says, way softer than he had been a minute ago.

Your body tenses. “Out? Where-”

“Dinner.” He says. “You deserve it… my little winner.”

If you knew anything about anything, you knew it wouldn't just be any ordinary dinner.

But who were you to refuse?

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[wonryllis]

ᨓ ENHYPEN FINDING YOUR WRITING ACCOUNT OF THEM.

. . ──𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽.

﹙ 𝒘𝐞𝐛 ⭑ 𝒅𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝓁𝓈. ﹚ enhypen discovering your top secret. fem!r. fluff, crack maybe a bit requested. wordcount` 664. アーカイブ ARCHIVE?

𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 he would be so giddy, and embarrassed and shy to find out that you write about him, boy is too flustered about the fact that you make fan content to even question anything else. it'd take a few days for him to let it all settle into his mind and then oh my god it's hell, he'll look up your account secretly even though you told him not to and then he'll keep saying random things he picked from you pieces to tease you. "my pretty doll, i will burn the world to save you"

𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 he is so so so sooooo embarrassed like he'll forget whatever he was up to when you accidentally let it spill that your latest post of him was doing so well. he will simply ask if you write about him and when you hesitantly admit it he'll be like okay great i hope you account does well??? he loves being the one you write for but he doesn't want to embarrass you by speaking any more of it. although from time to time he will ask for some updates on how it's been going.

𝗷𝗮𝗲𝘆𝘂𝗻 he is so happy you don't understand the level at which he is like platinum gem rank happy. he'll immediately sit with you beg you to show him your account and let him read through the fics, even the other members' he's just so curious he can't sit still. he'll read one with like heeseung as a secret agent and then tell you he would have been a better suit for it. then he'll read a spiderman one you wrote for him and then ask you if you wanna try the upside down kiss.

𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 he stopped working, system crashed. unable to believe for days that you got a fan account about him and on top of that you write things about him. thinks he's dreaming until you speak of it again and he's like you weren't joking?? will ask you things about it like what you write and how it works, if people like his fics and what aus you write him in and why you think of him as fitting for an au. a literal question bank, will inquire about every little detail but never look it up himself.

𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝘄𝗼𝗼 he's like in disbelief but like in a happy really elated way so excited to see you account, your aesthetic, your follower count, your writing style. just about everything and he's so supportive like you go girl, he'll also most probably make an account himself and follow you. commenting on each fic and sending asks like 'guess who baby (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)' he will also look through other accounts to come up with better advice to grow you space. will save the pieces you write about him to reread.

𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 the happiest kitty in the world, will leave everything literally drop it the second you tell him you got a writing account of him whether it's accidental or intentional. ask you the username and read all of your pieces about him in one sitting. definitely will get jealous to see others you wrote for and more if you someone else has more fics than him. will immediately give you new ideas like plan out a whole plot and then tell you, it's about him and you in an alternate universe so you need to write it.

𝗿𝗶𝗸𝗶 he is immediately teasing you to cover up the embarrassment he feels, like an internal struggle of why should he be the one embarrassed when you are the one who write fanfiction about him. will take your phone from you open your account and read it aloud, though halfway in he'll genuinely get invested especially if it's a social media au, going 'm not like that!' every chapter and when he's caught up to the latest one, he'll bug you to reveal what happens next, after all it's his story!

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @enhaswirlds @enhasnuggles

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights where Phantom saves Duke or the Signal, and a week later (at a Wayne gala or some other place) Duke recognizes the light/aura coming from Danny

Putting off gala prep was perhaps not the best plan. Duke spent the past month insisting that everything is fine and he has it under control. Duke is also a lying liar who lies, and now he’s frantically trying to pick up his suit in time to get it dry cleaned and altered as necessary. 

Alfred would be disappointed in him, but in Duke’s defense, he had to go out of town on a mission to bust a growing drug cartel, and then spent half a week visiting a shelter for metas on the run (unofficial and hidden away) to help everyone find new homes and learn to control their powers. These things take time!

Unfortunately, gala prep also takes time, and since it’s a charity gala for funding the education of every Gothamite student, it’s not one he can slip out of. The entire family is being strong-armed into attending and not making a scene until the donation period in the first half is over. 

Duke knows he’s not the only one who’s scrambling to get ready for a gala that’s taking place in three days, but they’re not helping him, so it feels like he’s the only one messing up. 

“Sorry!” he calls behind him as he sprints through a group of people. 

He could have asked someone to drive him, but he knows they’re all busy and doesn’t want his own poor time management to cause problems for anyone else. Even though he’s sure Bruce is looking for an excuse to get out of a mandatory Wayne Enterprises board meeting that both Lucius and Tim dragged him to.

RIP Bruce. He will be missed.

The Diamond District is full of people walking the streets, sprinting between parked cars and waiting for their rides. They’re all dressed nicely, making him feel out of place. It’s a feeling that’s never left him since he joined the Waynes but it’s particularly bad when he’s left to navigate these spaces alone. Rich people and socialites are a different kind of human, one that Duke doesn’t care to understand; there’s greed in all of them, turning them heartless, and they can give as much as they want to charity but it won’t change the fact that all they do is a performance to make people like them, rather than a desire to do anything good. 

The sooner this is over, the better. He keeps going, hoping that he can still make it to his appointment with the tailor. Alfred recommended the store, then set up the appointment, so all Duke has to do is trust their judgment as they get him fitted. He’s still got twenty minutes until the scheduled time, but some unspoken rule makes it so he has to show up fifteen minutes early for better service or risk being turned away and told to reschedule. 

Duke slows to a walk when he catches sight of the store, the trying to catch his breath and look more composed before he reaches the door. He takes a moment to straighten his clothes a bit, then opens the door and steps in.

The bell jingles pleasantly above his head. The store is empty of any other customers, and the employee at the front counter looks up with a plastered on smile. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” she says, then looks down at her phone and types something out before placing it under the counter. A tablet comes out instead and she swipes through a few screens, then sets it down and look at Duke again. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I have an appointment? For a suit fitting. Under the name Thomas.”

She taps on the screen for a minute, then nods and gives him another customer service smile. “Alright, I’ll go ahead and grab the tailor. They’ll be out with your suit soon. Please, feel free to take a seat or browse some of our suits. We just recently got a new collection in from Italy.”

“Sure, thanks. I’ll just… be here, I guess.”

The employee takes her tablet and disappears through a door, leaving him alone in the store. He doesn’t want to sit down, not while his heart is still trying to settle from his sprint through half of Diamond District, so Duke wanders around the neat stacks of dress shirts and vests, pants and belts and shoes lined up neatly against the walls. 

He takes a moment to shoot Alfred a text that he’s at the tailor for his fitting appointment. Steph’s sent him a long string of videos online, and he’s just about to go through them when the bell rings again. 

Duke glances up and watches a guy walk into the store. He looks around, makes eye contact with Duke, then quickly looks down, taking a seat by the door.

Probably another upper class citizen uncomfortable with the fact that someone in jeans and a hoodie is shopping for suits. Shaking his head lightly, Duke wanders deeper into the store to get some distance between them so they could ignore each other more easily. It’s only until the tailor comes out, and then he can go to a fitting room and be done with this whole thing, so Duke resigns himself to suffering through the tense silence. 

How long is he even supposed to wait? He can only look at clothes in one of three colors before he gets bored. 

He goes to another rack, trying to see if he can notice anything different about these shirts. 

And then he hears a shoe scuff against the floor behind him. He tenses up, but before he can turn around, a belt is wound around his throat, pulling him back and choking him. 

Duke drops his weight, tucking his chin and gets a hand against the inside of the belt to try to push it away. His back hits someone’s chest and he’s trapped, focused on trying not to be choked to death while also keeping his vigilante abilities and meta powers secret. 

More footsteps come from behind, and a soaked cloth is pressed against his nose and mouth.

Chloroform, he realizes, familiar with the smell from Bruce’s training. But training isn’t enough to keep him from being knocked out, and he quickly slips away from the waking world, falling to the ground. 

Just before he passes out completely, he hears the employee who greeted him say, “I’m not sure how much Wayne would be willing to pay for him, but let’s start high and negotiate lower. New kid can’t possibly be worth that much…”

Duke wakes up groggily, memories of what happened quickly snapping into place. He’s too out of it still to get up, but he’s awake enough to be offended. Sure he’s the new kid, and barely even a Wayne, but he’s still worth a lot!

Kidnappers these days. So rude.

He doesn’t hear anyone around him, and it feels like he’s lying on a cold concrete floor. Basement, maybe? Warehouse? Storage unit tucked away somewhere? There’s nothing much to see when Duke is able to open his eyes, squinting bareilly at his surroundings. His arms are tied behind him, wrists bound, but they left his legs alone. 

If he could just hit the panic button on his bracelet…

Duke wiggles around, fighting through the lingering effects of Chloroform, and manages to sit up. If he strains his hearing, he thinks he can hear voices outside of the empty room he’s been left in. There’s a window high up, too high for a normal person to reach without help, but if he can use the shadows to travel through it, then he may be able to escape on his own. 

First things first: he needs to free his hands before anyone comes in to check on him.

They used zip ties on him, which is inconvenient. He’s learned how to get out of them, but it’s difficult enough without being drugged and having to do it behind his back. 

He’s feeling the zip ties bite into his wrists just as there’s a crash from outside the room. His kidnappers yell, alarmed, and are quickly silenced. That’s rarely ever a good sign. Duke renews his efforts to escape, ignore the pain in pushing against his binds like this. 

The door opens. Duke hears the small click of a lock disengaging and freezes. Then he gets to his feet, still unsteady, and prepares to ram his head into anyone who comes near him like some sort of deranged battering ram, or a drunk raging bull. 

Duke is ready for the worst: a gang hoping to steal away a Wayne hostage, a Rogue, Gnomon popping in to cause trouble for the sole purpose of getting on Duke’s nerve. 

He’s not expecting another teenage boy, who is literally glowing, to poke his head in and zero in on Duke. He blinks, then smiles; it’s friendly and sincere, nothing like the employee who helped kidnap him. 

“Hey!” he says, coming into the room properly. He’s floating a good foot off the ground, eyes a bright neon green, with white hair that sways as if he’s underwater. “Are you okay? I saw them drag you out of the back of the store and followed them, but I got a bit lost. Sorry for taking so long to get here.”

“...It’s fine?” Duke offers, trying to wrap his head around what’s happening. “I wasn’t expecting a rescue so soon, anyways. Think you can help me out here?”

“Yeah, of course!” he flies closer, then drops down to the ground behind Duke. He hums lightly under his breath, and then Duke feels a cold touch on his wrist and the zip ties are suddenly gone. 

Duke blinks, then brings his arms in front of him. He moves around a bit to make sure he’s not hallucination, and sure enough, he’s free and unbound because a random meta teenager vanished the zip ties into the ether, or something. 

“Thanks, man. Any idea where we are?”

“Not a clue. I got lost coming here, and I was following them. I don’t think you should trust any directions I give.”

“Fair enough,” Duke laughs. “I’m Duke, by the way.”

“Phantom.”

“Well, thanks for the save, Phantom. Can I treat you to something?”

“Like, coffee?”

“Sure. Or brunch, or ice cream. Whatever you want, really.”

Phantom considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I would love to but going out in public looking like this,” he gestures to himself, “Is not a great idea. Thanks for the offer though. You got a ride?”

Duke pats his pockets, then sighs. “My phone’s gone. I still have my wallet, though.”

“I fly you to someplace you can call someone, if you’d like.”

“You sure? I could probably just walk out of here and call a taxi.”

“I don’t think walking around by yourself after being kidnapped is a great idea,” Phantom says, doubtfully. “Seriously, let me fly you.”

He should just hit the panic button and wait for someone to show up to get him. He shouldn’t go to some unknown location with a meta he literally just met. 

But, you know what? No one else can say they got kidnapped twice in one day, so Duke nods and says, “Sure, sweep me off my feet, Phantom. You gotta commit to this rescue.”

Phantom laughs. And then he does sweep Duke off his feet into a princess carry with a cheeky grin and flies them out the building, which turns out to be an abandoned apartment building slated for demolition. 

“Keep this up and you’ll be replacing Superman in no time,” Duke jokes.

“I think I could manage it,” Phantom replies thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m already prettier than him, don’t you think?”

“Oh, definitely. The glow really brings out your eyes.”

Phantom gets him a few blocks away when Duke recognizes where they are, and quickly directs him into Crime Alley. They land on top of one of Jason’s safe houses, and while he’s sure there’s enough security to take out a SWAT Team, that’s absolutely not going to stop him from breaking in to use one of Jason’s burner phones and eat his leftovers. 

He’s set down on his feet gently, and as soon as Phantom sees that he’s fine, able to walk and everything, he floats back up, just out of reach.

“Be careful, okay?” he says, getting ready to leave.

“I’ll do my best. Hey, are you gonna be in Gotham for a while, or…?”

Phantom gives him a tired smile. “Nah. I’m just passing through. As long as my luck doesn’t get even worse, then I should be out of here in a few days.”

“Shame,” Duke says, giving Phantom a very visible once over. He’s pretty tall, and Duke can see some muscle on him, and the tight black outfit really adds to his look. The glow that comes out of his chest makes him look ethereal and Duke is beyond glad that he got such a charming rescuer.

Phantom doesn’t blush like a normal person. He glows brighter instead, curling into himself a bit as he looks away, unable to stop the smile from growing on his face. 

“I guess,” he shrugs. “Are you really going to be alright from here?”

“Yeah, man, I have a friend who lives here. I’ll just bother him until he agrees to give me a ride.”

“Alright.” Phantom drifts away, glancing behind him before turning back to Duke. “I’ll get going then. Take care, Duke!”

Duke waves and watches as Phantom begins to fly away. Then Phantom… disappears? Or rather, his body does but Duke can see an orb of light making its way across Gotham, almost like a star fallen from the sky.

He stays on the roof until the light is long gone. When he’s finally ready to go in and steal from Jason, the sun has completely set. 

And he still doesn’t have his suit.

Duke sighs, and mentally prepares himself to other day of stressing out about the gala.

Three days of stress and last minute scrambling leave Duke in the Gotham Museum of Modern Art with Steph, Tim, Cass, and Damian. They’re hiding in the photography gallery to avoid other guests, taking a break from being polite and letting thinly veiled, passive aggressive insults slide over them.

.

.

.

“How much longer must we suffer this before we can go?” Damian grumbles, looking like he’s do anything to get his hands on a blade. Which, considering how many people tried to either pinch his cheeks are say some racist remark about him and his mother, is totally fair. Duke would just punch them, but sometimes a little drama helped get the message across. 

“At least two more hours,” Tim says, not bothering to look up from his phone. From what few glimpses of the screen Duke caught, he’s leading a Titans missions through text and clever hacking. Though it may be more accurate to call is a Young Justice mission since there’s no way any of this was authorized by a Justice League member. 

Also Anita, suited up as Empress, is there. If they aren’t on the news for property destruction and absolutely batshit wild shenanigans, Duke will have to check on Tim to make sure he’s not a pod person sent to infiltrate the family. 

“Think we can sneak out without anyone noticing?” Steph asks, looking at the emergency exit longingly.

Cass shakes her head and points to the door leading to the ballroom. When they look over, Dick makes very deliberate eye contact with them and give them a smile that looks stretched across his face.

Tim winces and pushes Duke. “Oh, something went down. Go take over for him and let Dick rest in here for a bit.”

“Man, why does it have to be me?” he grumbles even as he stands. Dick lets out a heavy breath and gives Duke a grateful smile, patting on the shoulder before shoving him out the door. 

As soon as he’s back into the main hallway, the music and chatter swell, no longer muffled by the thick walls of the photography wing. A few people come and go from the ballroom, no doubt looking for the restroom. 

Or more private places for… other things. Things they definitely shouldn’t be doing in an art museum.

He really can’t wait for this night to be over.

Duke joins the rest of the guests, fake smile on his face, and quickly makes his way to the snack table. He might as well make the most of his time stuck out here. Maybe he could even cause another relationship scandal by implying that Bruce is sleeping with one of partners when in hearing distance of a couple. Maybe even both of them. 

Bruce would go with it. It’s hilarious and he also needs something to make these events bearable.

Sadly, he doesn’t see any good targets as he scans the ballroom. A few people are dancing, while others are talking in small circles, closed off from outsiders. There’s an entire table of old ladies with glasses of wine in front of them; Duke considers hanging around them, since they confess to a lot of crimes after a few glasses. It’s fascinating. 

Also, he does kind of miss hanging out with the one old lady who’s declared herself his high society grandmother and told him stories of how she used to go to bars to find racist people or Klan members during the Jim Crow era, seduce them, then poison them and get their addresses so a few gangs she was friends with would fuck them up.

Granny Kaliasto is the coolest person ever. 

Just as he’s about to finish his last mini rolled crepe, Duke catches sight of one of the few teenagers still in the ballroom. The others, mostly stuck up rich kids no one actually likes, have already left to take over some other part of the museum to gossip until their parents decide it’s time to go home. These two are clearly not part of that crew, what with the girl being very goth and in a poofy, ripped dress, and the boy having already taken his jacket off to keep over his forearm, the top button of his shirt popped open.

They might be cool. He’s hoping they’re cool because he desperately needs some company to keep from dying of boredom while the gala continues on.

Duke walks over to them, going around the side of the ballroom, until he’s close enough to hear them talking.

The boy has his back to Duke, but the girl sees him. She immediately scowls and slaps the boys shoulder, eyes locked on Duke.

“Got another comment about my dress?” she says, voice sharp and acidic.

“Another?” Duke repeats. “I was just bored and wanted to talk to people who were my age. Sorry?”

The boy smacks the girl’s arm, then turns to face Duke. “Sorry about her! Sam is just naturally rude and aggressive. Tonight’s been a bit rough, with this crowd.”

Duke goes to say something, but the words stick in his throat when he sees the boy’s eyes shift from deep blue to an electric green. When he focuses, he can see a faint glow in his chest, the same glow he saw in Phantom.

“Dude? You alright?”

Sam looks him over judgmentally. “I guess it’s nice that I’m not being ogled for once, but don’t do that shit to Danny either.”

“Wait, that’s not what I was doing!” Duke hurries to say, snapped out of his shock. “I just… you look a lot like someone I met recently.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What was your name? I’m Duke, by the way.”

He holds out a hand, and the boy shakes it with a small smile. “Danny. I don’t think we’ve met. I mean, I’m only here because Sam wouldn’t come to this gala without me, so her parents flew me in.”

“You from out of town?”

“Sam and I are from Illinois. Her parents are traveling around the east coast right now, and they decided to spend a week in Gotham to talk business.”

“I’d ask how it is, but outsiders tend to really hate Gotham, so…”

Sam barks out a sharp laugh. “Oh please, we can handle Gotham. Our town might not be as big and well known as Gotham, but we got our own shit to deal with there.”

“I do get shot at a lot back home,” Danny adds thoughtfully. “And that’s without the ghosts.”

“Woah, what?”

“Up for a bit of a story?” Danny asks, impish grin on his face. By his side, Sam brings a hand up to cover a manic smile, shoulders already shaking with laughter. 

This is already better than the grandma gang. Duke leans against the wall, getting settled in, and says, “Always, man. Hit me with it.”

The next hour an a half passes quickly with Sam and Danny dramatically narrating some of the things that have happened in their town. Duke listens, absolutely enraptured, and doesn’t even notice the Waynes file into the ballroom again. 

Unfortunately, they bring with them the attention of most of the ballroom, including Bruce and Sam’s parents. 

She cuts the current story about Box Ghost short with a heavy sigh. “Hold up, I need to greet the Waynes properly while my parents are watching.” She steps in front of Duke and Danny, holding out a hand with a pained smile.

Tim takes it first, giving a solid shake, and introductions start. 

Free from the rules of high society, if only for the moment, Duke leans closer to Danny and whispers to him, “Phantom. Wanna get out of here?”

Danny flinches and turns to him looking panicked. “How did you know?”

“I kinda got magic eyes. I see a lot of things normal humans can’t. Don’t worry about it. I still owe you, so you wanna get out of here?”

He watches as Danny glances around the ballroom, then back to him, clearly weighing out his options. Then he nods and says, “Know where to get a good milkshake around here?”

“Sure do.”

“I guess you’re the one rescuing me this time.”

“Not a rescue,” Duke corrects, and casually picks Danny up over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry, “A kidnapping.”

Danny laughs and waves Sam and all the others goodbye as Duke marches out of the ballroom.

“Don’t bother me for the next two hours!” he calls to the Waynes, “I’m going on a date!”

There are shocked gasps and murmurs all through the crowd. But as he spins around to wave at his shocked and easily amused family, he also catches sight of Granny Kaliasto raising her half full wine glass towards him.

She really is the coolest.

He’s definitely telling her all about this at the next event they attend together. It’ll be nice to have a few stories of his own to share.

[yayakoishii]

sleep it off | Ace x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre/Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Slight NSFW at the start and end, Suggestive, Established Relationship, kinda crack/silly

Summary: Ace falls asleep in the middle of your first time having sex together.

A/n: I have had this idea for a while but, there were multiple factors I had to consider before I wrote it. So, fair warning, I have no clue how actual narcolepsy works. It would be best if you read this as a silly fic based on his gag. Secondly, I have never written sex or sex adjacent scenes so, really sorry if this is awkward ;-; Other than that, I hope you enjoy reading this !!

also available on ao3!

"You better fuck me hard, commander," you whispered into Ace's ear. His grip under your thighs tightened at the words and he lightly growled, holding you even closer against him. You tightened your arms around his neck when he started walking back to his room with you in his arms. "Fuck, Ace, that's…"

You trailed off, cheeks burning at how hot it was that Ace could pick you up like you weighed nothing. Like yes, you knew he had to be crazy strong considering he's the second division commander, but having him actually pick you up was enough to give you butterflies in the stomach. Even the wolf whistles and jeers behind you only fuelled to make you flush harder, the arousal pooling in your gut.

Ace slammed the door shut with his foot when you finally reached and up close, you could make out his pupils dilated with lust as he gently placed you on the bed. You crawled backwards to give him space and Ace immediately hovered over you on all fours, trapping you underneath him.

"You don't know how long I've waited to have you underneath me like this," he looked equally flushed. In fact, Ace's eyes seemed to have a quality to them that said that he couldn't quite believe he actually had you.

"Mm, I think I have an idea," you teased him, hand reaching up to card through the bottom most hair.

"You will be the death of me," he groaned and sat up, straddling your waist just so that his weight wasn't on you. "Don't you think it's unfair that I'm the only one who's half naked here?"

"You're always half naked, though?" You laughed even as you removed the form fitting top you had worn solely for the purpose of enticing Ace into having sex with you. "Not that I'm complaining. It's just my luck that I get blessed by the sight of your abs every day without having to do anything for it."

"Returning the favour every now and then seems like a fair deal," Ace's eyes were trained on your body intensely. It made you squirm and blush harder but you focused on throwing your shirt over to the chair a distance away. (You missed but that was a problem for later, right?) "God, you are beautiful."

Without waiting for a response (not that you had one other than to feel pleased at his words), Ace dived right at your neck, pressing open, wet kisses at the juncture of your neck and shoulders. Every part of him was so much warmer and hotter than you expected and it felt like his lips were leaving a trail of fire. You keened at the feeling, back arching as he marked the way down to your chest and over the nipples.

"Ace–" you exhaled shakily, fingers automatically tightening in his hair. He went lower and lower, down your stomach and then suddenly, you felt him drop on top of you. His weight trapped your legs, his face poking into your stomach. The sudden sensation startled you and you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at Ace. "Ace?"

To your surprise, he had fallen asleep. Of course, you were aware of Ace's sudden bouts of sleep and found them endearing at times, but right now, you could only stare at his calm, sleeping face for all of two seconds before you burst into giggles.

He really fell asleep in the middle of your first time. You smiled softly at him as you scrambled to pull him up and settled him beside you in his bed. Although someone else might have been upset, you were too in love with this fiery idiot to not find it cute and hilarious. You gently pressed a kiss on top of his forehead and leaned over to turn off the light after you put on your shirt.

Curling up next to Ace's warm body, you fell asleep.

•

When you woke up, the bed was empty. It was just you and the crumpled up sheets that you had thrown off yourself after Ace made you sweat all night with his insanely high body heat. You sleepily sat up and looked around but it looked like Ace had already left.

He was a division commander, so he was busy a lot of the time. You didn't think too much about it and trudged back to your room and freshened up with a nice bath. It was normal to even miss him at breakfasts sometimes so you didn't realise until half the day had passed that Ace was avoiding you.

Unbeknownst to you, Ace had woken up and remembered what happened last night. He was mortified and embarrassed and didn't know how to face you after that. He fell asleep in the middle of sex?!! How could he have fallen asleep in the middle of the one thing he had wanted to do so desperately for months now? And you had even gone all out yesterday, dressing to seduce him (not that you needed it, but it sure had helped speed things up) so for him to fall asleep like that… You must be so upset with him!

Ace just ran out and started on his work, avoiding everyone else as much as he could. The other commanders were giving him suggestive looks or asking him how it was and all Ace could stammer out were nervous lies. There was no way he could let anyone find out what had actually happened. They would never let him live it down.

Of course, he already knew that he couldn't hide it forever. After all, you were definitely upset with him and might even break-up with him and then everyone would know what had happened the night before. And then Ace would have to jump off the Moby Dick in mortification and also as an apology to you.

"You're not being very subtle," Marco's comment made Ace freeze. The two of them were currently going through some data compiled by the recent investigation team. Outside, the sun was starting to dip beneath the horizon. "Did something happen with (y/n)?"

"Uh, no, why would you think that?" Ace didn't think he was this bad at lying. Maybe he was just terrible when it came to things related to you. Even he knew that his nervous smile at Marco wasn't convincing anyone, not even himself.

"Avoiding your lover after you finally have sex with them, for one," Marco said pointedly without looking up, "is a sure sign that something's not right. What is it? Was it bad? Did you have a fight?"

"I kinda wish it was that," Ace admitted, giving up on the papers in front of him and also on trying to hide what happened. Marco could see through him a bit too much.

"That bad?" Marco finally looked up with a raised eyebrow. "I'm curious what could make you say that but, regardless of whether you want to tell me or not, I'd say you better figure it out soon. (Y/n) is looking really upset, you know."

"I…" Ace sighed and buried his face in his hands. You were the best thing to happen to him. He had liked you for so, so long and when you accepted his confession (that had been a complete disaster too, what with a bar set on fire, his bloody knuckles and the bloody tooth you had found in your hair), it had felt a lot like a dream. You liked him back too and said yes even though he fucked up the confession. But now he had gone and fucked up again. You deserved better than all this, right? "I need to fix this. But I don't know if I can, or how to even."

"You could start by apologising for whatever you did wrong," Marco suggested.

"How do you know it was my mistake?" Ace pouted. Marco just smiled in amusement as he looked back to his papers again.

"Doesn't take a genius to figure out it wasn't (y/n)," he answered. "An apology and your honest feelings would help. I don't know anyone who would accept and forgive you as easily and quickly as (y/n) does."

Ace sat there in silence for a few seconds, thinking over the words. You deserved better, yes, but all that meant was that he had to better himself. It's not like he would just give you up. After all that time he had spent on trying to get you to like him back, he sure as hell wasn't giving you up without fighting for it. He would beg on his knees if that's what you needed, but he would get you to stay.

"Um, Marco?" Your voice startled Ace and his head snapped towards the door where you were standing nervously. "Could I borrow Ace for a few minutes?"

"Of course," the first division commander flashed you an easy smile. "Just make sure he comes back. He still has quite a bit to finish."

"I'll do it," Ace grumbled as he got up. You had come to him. You had made the first move. A part of him was sure that you were going to suggest a break-up but he told himself that he was jumping to conclusions. You wouldn't do that… right? "Let's go to my room to talk?"

"I was going to suggest that," you smiled weakly at Ace. The two of you walked in awkward silence; it was so unnatural and Ace hated it. Your relationship stood on the basis of your friendship and the ease with which you treated each other.

Once inside the room, Ace closed the door behind him and gestured for you to sit on his bed. You did so and Ace settled down next to you. Silence rang in the room for a few more seconds.

"Did–"

"Are–"

The two of you abruptly cut-off.

"You go first," Ace said hurriedly. You worried your lower lip between your teeth before you spoke again.

"Did I do something wrong?" Your voice was small. Ace had never heard you speak in such an unsure manner. You were fidgeting, playing with your fingers nervously. "You've been avoiding me all day, Ace…"

"I'm…!" Ace reddened in embarrassment. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned to face you properly before he spoke. "I'm the one who made a mistake. I have been avoiding you out of embarrassment but, you deserve better than that. You deserve a proper apology for last night–"

"Apology?" You were confused. "For last night?"

"Yeah, I," Ace was confused by your confusion. Weren't you upset with him?

"There's nothing you need to apologise for last night, though?" You tilted your head in question. "An apology for avoiding me today would make sense but… why are you apologising for yesterday?"

"Aren't… you upset?" Ace flushed, looking down at his own lap. "That I fell asleep in the middle of our… y'know."

There was silence for a few seconds before you burst out laughing. Ace looked up in surprise, finding you laughing through watery eyes.

"You thought I was upset about that?" You were giggling and Ace didn't really understand it but it didn't look like you were upset about it. "Here I was, worried that I did something wrong and that you didn't want me anymore and you were avoiding me because you thought I was upset you fell asleep?"

"So, you aren't upset?" Ace asked, bewildered at your reaction. You beamed at him and shook your head then folded up your legs to inch closer to him. You straddled him and sat yourself on his lap and Ace automatically wrapped his arms around you so that you wouldn't fall.

"Why would I be upset, silly?" You smiled at him, eyes soft and full of love. "I admit that it was shocking but it honestly just made me laugh. It was unexpected but it's nothing so bad that you need to hide from me, Portgas D. Ace. I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. Honestly, I'm just glad you fall asleep in moments like these instead of on the battlefield."

"Hey!" Ace weakly protested but it died down the moment you cupped his cheeks in your palms and kissed the tip of his nose. You were smiling so happily at him and suddenly, all his embarrassment and mortification from before felt silly. "Does this mean I get a second chance to prove myself?"

"I wouldn't be against a redo of last night," you trailed a finger down his chest as you spoke, "but don't you have some work to finish, commander–oof!"

Ace didn't wait to hear you finish speaking before he toppled you onto your back, his frame hovering over yours just like last night. You didn't resist and pulled him in for a kiss. Only after a few minutes of making out did you look up at him slyly, flush and with spit-slicked cherry red lips.

"I guess it can wait for later, hm?"

°•❀•°

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[man-moth-hook-hand]

Welcome to my Nightmare Ch. 1

Here is the first chapter of the rewrite!

Masterlist

Chapter One: Santa Carla

Dry heat. The only two words that could describe the hellscape that Santa Carla, California was. I was just now realizing that I had no idea what I had gotten myself into, getting states away from home. The horrors of the grimy truckstop showers should have been an omen not to come here, but I was determined to get away. To start new. To be. . . different. 

I had hitchhiked what felt like hundreds of miles, but I knew that wasn’t possible. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was not getting some serial killer-rapist to pick me up. So far, I had gotten nice people, families, and old run-down people that were once me. The Sun’s lasers blasted at me like I was Princess Leia.  I was definitely going to get a sunburn after this. I held my thumb up for the millionth time to plead with someone to not let me die of a heatstroke out here. No luck.

The dry dirt crunched under my boots as I walked down the side of the highway into California. A “Welcome to Santa Carla California!” the sign taunted me. As I passed, something told me to glance back. Some punk had spray painted the phrase “MURDER CAPITAL OF THE WORLD” in a fitting, blood red. I suppose maybe that should have been my omen to quit while I was ahead. Of course, I didn’t listen. I had hithicked and been through some of the nasties and sketchiest places to get her. Murder Capital of the World wasn’t going to shock me. More people means more crime anyway. 

This time, my thumb yielded an old red Toyota to take pity on me. Once inspecting my saviors, I understood why an older woman had stopped. She had two children in her car. Maybe she saw herself, or her kids, in me. Maybe the husky that was desperate to sniff me begged her to pull over. 

“Hi, are you alright? Do you need a ride?” A sweet and delicate voice emanated from her gentle expression. Murder Capital of the World, am I right? Her two sons, the older brunette, and younger blonde, eyed me suspiciously. ALthough, they didn’t seem too concerned with their mother picking up a total stranger. Maybe she did this often.

“Yes ma’am, I just need a ride into town.” I explained. If I got a cheap hotel, maybe I could settle down a bit. I glanced into the old vehicle, it seemed a little over crowded. The two teenages didn’t seem to want to share their precious car space, especially with a husky on the blonde’s lap. Who drags a Husky into this kind of weather?

“Michael, move over just a little. Would you?” The woman’s turquoise necklace with wings caught my eye. It looked almost like a Journey album cover. Michale, the older brunette guy, side eyed me. Not wanting to displease his mother, moved over just a little. 

I grabbed the sun bleached handle and opened the car to scoot towards Michael. I tried not to take up too much space, I was a sweaty hitchhiker. It seemed like any space I took up was too much. 

“Thanks, I’m (Y/N).” I gestured my open palm towards Michael to shake. 

“I’m Michael,” he thankfully shook my hand and didn’t seem too upset about me being in the car. “That’s Sam, Nanook, and my mom–”

“I’m Lucy by the way.” She laughed. 

“It’s nice to meet you all. Thank you for giving me a ride, I really do appreciate it.” I thanked Lucy. Sam muttered something about not asking for another one. His mother’s displeased look stopped him from saying anything else.

“So, you’re staging with some family?” Lucy glanced at me through the rearview mirror. 

“Oh, uh. I just . . . um. . .” I can’t believe that I was completely choking up. Shit. “Yeah, but only for a little bit.” I hoped that was enough to convince her. It wasn’t. 

“Oh, they couldn’t drop you off?” She questioned. 

“Well, they don’t have a car, so I just walk everywhere.”  

“If you need somewhere to stay for a bit, we have extra room.” Lucy reached for my hand behind the seats. 

“Mom–” Sam objected. I couldn’t blame him. 

“Sam! Be nice. I raised you better than that!” She scolded. 

“You’re more than welcome to stay with us if you need. Really, we do have plenty of room.” Lucy seemed more concerned for me that I was about myself.

Was it really a bad idea? Maybe. Was I going to take it anyway. Yeah! A rent free place to stay, why wouldn’t I take that? Plus, I could cook, clean, or pay rent after I got a job, so it wasn’t like I was taking advantage of them. I only had sixty bucks left, so not enough to stay at a motel for very long.

“Are you sure? I really don't want to take up unwanted space.” put on a sweet and naive voice. I couldn’t make it too obvious that I wanted to stay. Sam and Michael would be a little harder to convince, but I could do it. 

/|\^._.^/|\

Along the ride, I learned the family’s name was the Emerson’s, freshly moving to Santa Carla after a not-so-great divorce. I thought it was interesting to move so far away, even if Lucy’s father was here. Did she not have siblings? Friends that could help her out? I wasn’t going to ask. Michael wasn’t too thrilled finishing his senior year in a completely different state, but he said he was going to try to make the best of it. Sam, on the other hand, was almost insulted that he had to relocate. A total mall-rat. California seemed right up his alley, every person who wanted to be someone, wanted to be in California. Not Sam though. 

The Emerson’s stopped at the boardwalk, which I had no idea was anything more than an expensive tourist trap. Lucy said she came here all the time when she was younger. I always thought it was just for rides and carnie good, but no, there were legitimate businesses. It looked like a couple of food joints, random stores, and a . . . pharmacy? Weird. Maybe it was cheap to rent here. Maybe tourists just got sick a lot. 

People were pouring out of every nook and cranny of these places, it was like an anthill. I hadn’t ever seen this many people since Black Friday, except with less fighting and stealing. The Emerson’s had split up and it looked almost impossible to figure out how they were going to  meet up. It was overwhelming, especially with how bright and hot it was. Maybe I needed that pharmacy. 

Sam and Nanook split, running around like wild children. Lucy and Michael went looking for jobs. I wasn’t really sure where to be, I also wanted a job, but I didn’t want to compete with Lucy or her son. Maybe if I look the next time we’re here, I’ll find one. 

Jesus Christ, it was bright. Somebody’s got to sell some shade, otherwise I was going to get a migraine. I scanned the sweaty maze of people, locating a small shop. The Sa’s Surf Shop sign looked over me. Jesus, there were so many people. I forced myself into the air conditioned shop. The smell of sunscreen, surf wax, and too many people that smelled like salty water and B.O. was so grody. I spotted a pair of round, cat eye sunglasses, with a teal rim. They sat discarded in a big with other various pairs. 

I picked up two similar pairs and wandered around the store pretending to be a customer. I put the pair I wanted in my waist band underneath my baggy shirt. I made my way over the bin and placed the other pair back. It was so easy to take from shops like this, there were always way too many people to keep track of thieves. 

I walked a couple shops down before placing my shield of glory upon my face. A few more shops down, I noticed a bookstore. I was a little confused at how many shops and what types called the boardwalk “home.” It was much more than I expected. 

The sign was so sunbleached it was almost impossible to read Used Books on the front. Straight to the point, I guess. An old ancient being guarded the sacred used book store. He seemed almost upset that someone wanted to actually buy something. The store was a tightly packed maze of books from new to who knows how old. Nothing was organized, excepta few book on display near the back, but none of them related to each other. Maybe the old geezer would hire the help he probably needed. 

Once inspecting the display, I noticed that How to Raise Your IQ by Eating Gifted Children by Lewis Frunkes was next to Dracula by Brahm Stoker. . . . interesting. I pulled Dracula off the shelf, then moved around the shelves to find a similar cover. I eventually found another vampire novel that looked close enough to Dracula. I hid Dracula in between my back and the waistband of my pants, hopefully he hadn’t seen me. I proceeded to place the other book on the display hoping it would trick the old man. I made my way to the front of the store to find the old man staring at me intensely. Had he caught me? Hopefully not. He looked between me and the display, quinting. Could this dinosaur even see? 

“Was that on the display?” a grainy voice interrogated me. 

“Yes, sir.” I said. 

He stared at me harshly before saying something. “Alright then.” He uncrossed his arms and placed him on his hips, revealing his name tag. Milforn. 

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you were looking for some help–” 

“No.” Milford flatly stated. 

“Uh, ok. Have a nice day then.” I backed away slowly. 

“I don’t need no help.” Milford’s jowls flapped angrily. 

“Have a nice day sir.” I said as I quickly exited the store. What a weirdo. 

I wandered around a bit before spotting Lucy, Sam, and Nanook. It seemed like lucy was asking Sam to give some money to two kids eating out of a dumpster. I remembered what that felt like. A couple of people had given me money before, but it always was embarrassing taking it. It felt like they just pitied me and wanted to make themselves feel better. Lucy didn’t mean it that way though, she was a good person. I truly do believe that she is a good person. 

“Hey,” she grasped my shoulder gently. “We’re going to head up to my father’s now. Don’t forget you’re invited now.” She chuckled at me. 

“Ok, thank you.” I said. I kinda felt bad for accepting. I didn’t want to take advantage of Lucy the same way I did those shop people. Lucy was nice, those shop people sucked and had overpriced junk. 

Eventually, Me, Michael, Sam, Lucy, and Nanook clamored our way into the old, but well loved, Toyota. Sam seemed more upset about me going than Michael did. The car ride out of town was a little tense to say the least. It was thick enough to choke me. Lucy didn’t seem bothered, or didn’t let it show. She turned on the radio, made jokes, and eventually it seemed as if we were having a good time. Sam even laughed at something I said. 

“Ya know, I haven’t lived with another girl since I lived with my mother!” Lucy laughed. “If you need anything, really anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

“Thank you. If you need help moving anything, let me know. I don’t mind.” I chirped. 

“You could move my stuff into my room.” Sam laughed. 

“Light work I guess.” I quipped back. Michael chuckled in response. “So, how old are you guys?” 

“18.” Michael said. 

“Old enough.” Sam said. 

“Sam,” Lucy nudged her son in the ribs. “He’s 13.” 

“I’m guessing you're maybe 30?” I joked with Lucy. While Same and Michael didn’t seem to think my joke was funny, Lucy felt more than flattered. After all, it was her approval I was after, not two punk-ass teens. 

“So are you in highschool?” Michael asked. 

“No, I just graduated.” 

“So why are you all the way out here?” 

“A fresh start. I just wanted things to be different than how they were.” I didn’t want to tell my whole life story to a guy I just met a couple hours ago. 

“Fair enough. Us too.” Michael was quiet and didn’t talk much. “I’m finishing my senior year here.” 

“Who said you’re graduating?” Sam joked. Michael wetted the tip of his finger and shoved it into Sam’s left ear canal. 

“Mom!Michael just gave me a wet-willy!”

“Michael, please don’t start on the wrong foot. We’re almost here. I don’t want your grandfather to think we fight.” Lucy explained. 

“I thought it was funny.” I whispered to Michael. He chucked a bit. Perhaps I could get them to warm up to me.

[atamascolily]

Lily liveblogs: Thunderbolt Fantasy 4x01

In which Shang Bu Huan is simultaneously incredibly perceptive and as dense as a post; Lang Wu Yao and Xing Hai realize you can't go home again (welcome to hell); and Ba Wang Yu is a badass.

NOTE: As far as I know, there is still no news from Crunchyroll about an official English release, and I'm very grumpy about this. Please do not let TBF become this season's Girls Band Cry.

I'm always a sucker for a soft piano version of the main theme and the opening scene did not disappoint. In this house, we stan a cold open.

(that said, this gives me major flashbacks to the opening of S3, which makes me wonder how deliberate that was)

the cinematography in this scene is GORGEOUS. The light! the bamboo! everything is perfect!

love the establishing shot with the bored server, especially since you just know it's gonna be relevant later

also love how we don't see who Shang is pouring drinks for until Juan Can Yun shows up!

can I just say how much Juan Can Yun has really grown up since we first met him? He may not know what's going on, but his heart is sincerely in the right place, and he's doing his best to provide comfort and support to the guy who taught him what it meant to be a truly good person.

as usual, Shang blames himself for Lang's disappearance, never mind that Lang had his own issues and isn't the most communicative ever.

also love that neither Shang nor Juan has any idea wtf happened to Lang in S3, so from their perspective, he just fucked off into a collapsing cave for no reason... except that Shang has figured out that he went after Xing Hai in the demon realm. Which is 100% true, just not in the way he expects.

Shang is dealing with trauma in his usual way, which is to isolate himself from the people he cares about.

He's also realized his naivete in assuming that he could fob the Index off on someone else in Dong Li or get rid of it entirely--he's stuck with this thing he doesn't want and he's the only one who can handle it (because every time he tries anything else, people get hurt or killed). the problem is that it will consume his whole life, and then what? He doesn't bring it up, probably because it's too depressing to contemplate.

Shang doesn't mention his name directly, but the official summary makes it clear he's thinking of Bai Lian when he talks about how he promised to keep the Index safe.

Dan Fei is rousing both the spiritual and secular authorities to prepare for war. Here's hoping the Dong Li emperor is better than the Xi You one or else we're in real trouble!

She's not even in this episode, but I'm still so proud of her, because like Juan, she really has grown up tremendously since we first met her. And you can tell Juan really loves her! THESE KIDS, MAN.

(maybe the Dong Li emperor can take over the government when Xi You and Dong Li are reunited??)

war with the demons is coming and everybody knows it.

Juan means well, but there is no fortress the Hu Yin Shi can build that is strong enough to keep the Index safe and Shang knows it.

where is home for Shang, I wonder?? He's been on the run and on the road for so long, I don't think he even knows, even though Juan assumes Shang's home is Xi You.

(shang is never going to settle down, he will always wander, "home" is where he is, not a fixed place. but does HE know that? his reaction to Juan suggests that he does.)

Juan's line about Shang's family is so typically him... he's trying to be kind, but he messes it up because he doesn't know the situation.

I am tremendously pleased that Shang doesn't have a family (that he knows about) because it maintains his archetype as as a perpetual wanderer passing through rather than fixing him in time and space. From the beginning, he's always been alone, which is personally tragic, but narratively fitting. Rather than inheriting a destiny, he's entirely self-made.

Also, this means no more family members get fridged, because I'm so tired of that.

(Lang is the one with the family drama in this show, remember)

but I think this is one of those moments that we'll revisit later, because it's technically true, but there's so much more than that that we don't yet know about! this is just the tip of the iceberg!

I feel like this is also a key character moment for Juan, inasmuch as it shows how much he values family and social connections and ties (which he has obtained via his relationship with Dan Fei)

but oh, the awkwardness

so much awkwardness

fortunately interrupted by Juan getting called away by his duties

you can tell that Juan has really settled down, because he pays the bills--remember when Shang tells his imposter that the most important thing in life is paying your own bar tab, lol.

Juan mentions a hot spring and a inn nearby and I just want everyone to imagine the next part taking place there while Shang is naked and wet, because it's such a great mental image. I assumed Pili would have done this if they could have gotten away with it, but alas, budget.

shang always being able to see through lin's disguises gets me every time, as does lin's rueful laugh.

me: GET A ROOM YOU TWO

(also, there is a rule that says servers at restaurants in this show are never what they seem, it's practically law by now)

shang doesn't lecture lin about his behavior, just says he can see where Juan is coming from, lol

Lin's motivation of avoiding boredom is brought up because it's fundamental to understanding his character - - everything he does stems from it.

lin is 100% correct when he says shang is boring and tedious. he's narratively uninteresting. the Index is literally weighing him down. but shang can't/won't listen.

Shang: no.

lin: what, not even a "lol, no". you ARE depressed.

Lin and Juan are basically saying thesame thing in different ways, lol.

"to become a hermit and coop yourself up in the middle of nowhere and devote your whole life to protect the Index" is Lin's idea of hell -- it's basically what the Hu Yin Shi are already doing, but without the community/structure/support

also goes back to the idea of power as ISOLATION, which we have also seen with Locust (more on this later)

Lin is basically saying "play with me!" in the most direct way possible for him, it's very cute

shang telling lin he's not like him is so funny because of all the ways they're similar (which shang would really prefer not to think about, lol)

Just like Shang, Lin is not willing/able to compromise his principles, so their parting is inevitable

Lin has always been very clear that his interest in Shang is conditional on Shang being "fun", so this isn't a surprise

Of course Lin, as a professional storyteller/liar who is keenly attuned to narrative "rules" (and is voted "Most Likely To Break The Fourth Wall"), puts it in terms of tales and stories. If Shang is dropping out of the story, Lin will keep going on.

HOWEVER, Lin is also very clear that this separation is temporary, and that Shang will not be able to resist the call to adventure in his blood (very interesting given what else blood is said to do in this episode). And he's right! Shang is at a low point at the moment, but he's constitutionally incapable of minding his own business when problems drop into his lap. It's innately a part of who he is; he CANNOT stay in one place for long, he can't stop being a hero. And Lin will join him when he rejoins the narrative, because he is acutely attuned to Shang's activities/a keen judge of narrative drama. and it's something they'll do together!

in his own indirect way, Lin is saying that he'll be there when Shang is ready, and that pleases my shipper heart immensely.

shang: "GOD, I need a drink."

the question is what is he going to do next? I think, given the theme of this episode, returning home, and the mention of Tian Ming, means that he's going to somehow end up in Xi You, because it's the one thing he doesn't want to do--and therefore needs to. I'm just not sure how, but I know it has to happen before the end of the story, even if it's not immediate.

The other option is that he goes to the demon realm, because all of the plot threads are converging on the demon realm in this season, so it's inevitable that he'll end up there too

Beyond that, I'm not sure--he could spend time with Dan Fei, Juan Can Yun, and the Hu Yin Shi, but it feels like he has cut ties with them as well and is determined to do his own thing. We'll see how far he gets with his self-imposed isolation before the narrative drags him back; I have a feeling it won't be very long.

all this and we're only six minutes in, lol

I love how the demon realm looks like the bottom of the ocean with all the filtered light and corals and algae. plus they can use the green screen directly and save money!!

Azibelpher is virtually phoning it in because Lang will attack him otherwise, lololol

xing hai: ah, nothing like the fresh smell of blood to remind you of home.

lang: coughing fit

I appreciate the confirmation that Ling Ya is the manifestation of Lang's demonic powers, because it confirms what I've always suspected. Also it makes the second movie 1000% times more poignant and heartbreaking in retrospect, so good job there.

If Xing Hai is disgusted Azibelpher fucked a human, she is very wisely not saying anything, lol

Ling Ya is once again shielding Lang, so he can be human. This is not going to last, but I love him so much for trying.

Like Shang, Xing Hai was ashamed of going home because she felt she wasn't worthy enough, but now she is in Azibelpher's service and therefore protected in spite of her low status among demons. The only one who is allowed to toy with her is her boss, and you can tell he's enjoying her reactions to the changes in the demon realm.

meanwhile, lang is supposedly "home" in a foreign land that is actively hostile and yet somehow familiar on a deep innate level. welcome to hell, kid.

we also get confirmation of something I've wondered about for a long time, which is that "demons" and "demon gods" are two different classes of entities in spite of their similar names. The demon gods are living weapons the demons summoned from another world to fight the humans, which makes them the direct parallels of the Shen Hui Mo Xie, which also came from another world and are the only thing that counter them!!!

also like the Shen Hui Mo Xie, as soon as the war was over, they were misused on their own side

also, this demon god looks JUST LIKE CTHULU LMAO

I thought one of the demons got turned into a skull, but on replay, he was already a skull before that. Still not having a great day, though.

love the shot of Azi et al. on the cliff which establishes the sheer SCALE of this production.

anyway, the demons have "peace" because they're too busy placating the eldritch horrors they summoned to fight each other. This was the idea of the demon king, who I'm sure we'll meet shortly.

also, please savor the irony of Xing Hai waking up a demon god in S1, only to learn that the demons have spent the last 200 years desperately trying to keep them down

the demons are stuck living with the side effects of the war just as the humans are - two halves of the same coin

Xing Hai is mad because she doesn't like that the demons are now suffering the same fate they tried to inflict upon the humans and are stuck with the consequences--she believes in hierarchy, and in that hierarchy, even the lowliest demon is superior to a human, and therefore is prey

"peace" comes at a price--it's not really peace at all, it's stasis/paralyzing, constant fear of oblivion. Like Lin, Azi finds this boring, so he's naturally looking to stir up shit (this is also why he spends so much time fucking around with humans, btw, and, why, like Lin, he also is acutely aware of narrative rules and drama)

Okay, I was not expecting this particular musical choice for cyborg grandpa's scene (Ling Ya's theme iirc). I guess now I don't have to feel bad that Lou Zhen Jie trapped him in the other world, because he wasn't actually trapped for long.

in keeping with his dual nature, cyborg grandpa has one red eye and one green eye

his character bio on the official site says he has a connection to the other craftsman grandpa in this show, which pleases me immensely, because symmetry

love that the screen separating him from the world is literally how Locust interacts with his followers in the Order, it's so perfect for him side note: the "You" character in "Emperor You" is the same as in "Xi You", which means "secluded"; the fact that the emperor is named for his most prominent trait is also very pleasing to me, even if it's not as obvious in English. TBF is really not subtle with these sorts of things!!!

I've said this before, but Locust's isolation from the world is key to his powers, but that doesn't stop him from making his presence felt in other ways

cyborg grandpa wants to go to the demon realm but needs protection; locust wants to learn more about the demonic arts which are tied to heretical arts (another confirmation that pleases me--once again, humans and demons aren't so different!)

FIELD TRIP TO THE DEMON REALM!!!

it's very fitting that Wasp and Spider are introduced at the same time and come as a set because they are direct opposites in every respect. Spider has a fantastic entrance with his chains, but Wasp/Ba Wang Yu has my whole heart.

Her ethos is simple and direct; his is subtle and cunning; she's a butch powerhouse and he's a misogynistic twink. Of course they hate each other and immediately duke it out.

Locust approves because he's a terrible boss, lol

Ba Wang Yu gets her character poem first because she isn't hiding anything at all. She isn't stupid; she simply doesn't give a shit because she's so strong she can steamroll anything that's thrown at her. Did I mention I love her?

seriously, after Dan Fei's poem had that whole "meekness as a woman" crap, it's refreshing that Wang Yu's poem is almost literally "I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR".

I do like spider's clone attack, though. And the chains are very neat. But I'm so distracted by Wang Yu that I barely notice him.

apparently locust has his own stash of magic swords and… axes?? Of course Wang Yu gets the ax! This is also why spider's puppet was exhibited with two different swords, lol.

good thing locust magicked them so they don't get fried like jun po.

you can tell from the way the camera focuses on spider for a second that he's planning on backstabbing wasp in the demon realm.

anyway, Wasp and Spider are almost certainly doomed, and I'm betting that they're either going to kill each other because their respective ethoses cancel each other out--neither strength nor strategy is inherently superior. The alternate is that they die together fighting a common enemy, which would also be karmically fitting, but regardless, I'll be very surprised if they make it out of this season alive.

which sucks because I love Wang Yu so much, but such is life in the murder puppet fandom, especially for the bad guys

I love that the monster of the week looks so cute and harmless, but is supposedly ferocious, lol. love how it conveniently waits for Azi to finish exposition before attacking

in keeping with the "eyes" motif, it has two eyes in its skull socket where a normal animal has one.

lang barely talks in this episode -- also lol. I think he has 2 lines, a cough, and a lot of judgemental looks

Ling Ya is like, "damn it, okay, this sucks, but I'm gonna do my best to keep Lang human through all this"

Lang: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

… and we're done!

Bai Lian with a new sword in the OP was not on my bingo card, but he puts it in a shrine and walks away. considering that the OP is named for a famous sword in Japanese legend, I'm really curious where this is going.

okay, so the opening is great actually, love Shang sitting at the table with lang, only to be alone--I thought he was going to see other people (lin?) but no, still a gut punch. shanglang shippers can have a little angst as a treat.

lot of spiderwebs when the Divine Swarm is introduced (including Lin as Piao Miao, lol)

Locust and Chao Feng also have their mirror images, hmmm

Xing Hai shattering the mirror with her whip suggests that she is going to have an interesting arc this season, "shattering" her illusions. love the reflections of the other demons in in the glass behind her.

Lang is wrapped in chains and calls on his powers via Ling Ya to summon lightning and flames and turns into a demon to escape them… I thought it was a third eye, but I think he's got a horn instead. which is so funny because the demons made fun of him last season for not having one-- half-demon = 1 horn, I guess. Anyway, demon prince Lang sighted, this is not a drill.

also am I a terrible person for immediately thinking of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" here

omg all those eyes!!!!

credits end with Shang fighting a whole army of those monsters from the end of the episode alone, only for Lin to drop down out of the sky in the most dramatic way possible and stand back to back with him. considering that Azi makes a big deal about how ordinary humans can't defeat them, this is very significant. also, unclear if this will actually happen or if it's just thematic, but either way, this encapsulates Shang and Lin's dynamic very nicely--Shang might complain, but Lin will be there when he needs him (he just has to accept him!) also inevitable that both of them will end up in the demon realm, though again, perhaps not under these exact circumstances.

I feel like the opening song is very slow and melancholy, and gets cut off just as it gets going so I'm looking forward to the full version. Nothing will ever top "His/Story" but I don't hate it.

will we get a real ED this season? probably not, but I live in hope

anyway, this was a LOT to unpack, and I feel like I've barely skimmed the surface, but there you go. can't wait to do this all over again next week.

[featheredclover]

September Rain

Chapter Fourteen

Read from the beginning

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Chapter Thirteen>> <<Chapter Fifteen

The building housing the sports rooms was packed full. Some faces held the gloom of the day, while others shone as bright as the trophy the Reds had lifted up that evening.

Khushi trailed behind Preeto as she made a beeline for Farhan.

Dhruv stood beside him, a duffle bag resting on his shoulders. She walked up to him, standing in silence. There was nothing more she could offer. No consolations, no encouragement. She knew better than anyone else that losing must be dealt with in true acknowledgment. She remembered every dance competition she had failed to win, every debate she had faltered in and every exam she had fumbled. She knew the pain.

“You must be happy now”

Startled at the rancid tone, she looked at Dhruv. He seemed to be in disbelief, and yet his eyes held an accusatory glare.

“Oh come on! Don’t give me that deer in headlights that look like Khushi. He made a show about his first goal. For you. Of course you wanted them to win”

“That’s not fair”, she gritted out, her temple throbbing.

“I wanted him to play well, but I wanted us to win."

“Really?”, his bitterness seeped into his voice.

“Really. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone Dhruv. Goodbye.”

She spun around, ready to leave in a fit of fury, when she found herself pulled back by her arm.

“Khushi, I am sorry”, he sighed.

“I was so sure that we would win that I didn’t even….You are dating him aren’t you?”

She nodded tersely. Her mind felt muffled by Dhruv’s switching between hot and cold. She had enough of it. Shaking his hands off her, she stormed off.

——-

The red lights and decor hung from the ceiling. A lot of decor had been recycled from NK’s last riotous party, but some paper footballs were new on the scene. Mona held Khushi’s hand as she led them through the dancing mesh of people. Reaching the drinks table, they grabbed lemonades, sipping through them absently.

“Dhruv is a little bitch. Don’t give him the time of the day, K”

“Is this really coming from someone who till weeks ago believed he walked with a halo?”

“Well, whatever he did today proved me wrong”, Mona smiled wryly.

“Is NK okay?” Khushi sighed.

“Speak of the devil”, she grinned.

“NK!” Khushi yelled.

The man sat on his throne, his bandaged leg, resting on a pile of pillows.

“Mademoiselle! My apologies but I crushed your team even with this beautiful injury “

“If you were not hurt, I would have emptied this glass on you”, Mona smiled mockingly.

“So harsh!” NK gasped.

Khushi jumped as a warm hand slipped under her sweater, around her waist.

“Enjoying the party?” His whiskey-like voice settled against her skin like a thousand ice cubes.

As she twisted her neck, her lips brushed against his in one electrifying moment. They both stilled. She felt the burn where his hand rested, even as his eyes held her under their scorching heat.

“Get a room, you two!”

Khushi pushed him hastily as she looked up to see their friends laughing. She thanked the dim lights. Awkward moments like these didn’t deserve an audience .

“I would like to dedicate this night to….”

She looked up to see Sahil, a junior ,climb up on a table ready to toast with a coke can.

Before she could listen any further, she found herself being dragged away by Arnav. His gait told her he wouldn’t tolerate any more delays. Leading her down a corridor, he opened a door, revealing a small closet.

“Are you serious?” Khushi giggled, forgetting all the awkwardness they had been wrapped in.

“I told you. I have a penchant for finding places”

“Hey! There’s even a tiny sofa here”

Khushi plopped down, her glass almost spilling over. Arnav settled beside her, stretching his legs against the confined space.

She found herself being swept into his arms, and this time, her drink did spill over.

“Congratulations”, she whispered hotly against his lips.

“Uh-huh”, Arnav murmured before kissing her.

He slid his hand down, which was entangled in her hair down her neck. His fingers fiddled with the chain before reaching the locket she had attached just this afternoon.

Breaking the kiss, he looked down at the soda cap. Turning it around, he almost reverently traced the engraving he had cast years ago. Back then it had been a promise and a premise. But today? Today it had morphed into a declaration, a possession.

“You gave me want I wanted Khush”,he looked into her eyes.

“I wanted to”, she said simply, tilting to fit into his arms.

Khushi felt her breath stutter as he kissed down her neck, kissing the swell of her breast. She jumped, her mind in an overdrive.

“Shhh, baby it’s fine”

She didn’t know what she felt overwhelmed by more- the sensations he was making her feel or his endearment for her.

God! He was going to be the end for her!

Pulling the neck of her sweater down, he kissed the scrape of skin, setting her on fire. She arched her back, pushing herself further closer to him.

Feeling his hot breath on her, she blinked her eyes open. Khushi stifled a gasp as he bit softly but deliberately into the skin at the nape of her neck. Sucking on it with a passion ,unlike she had ever seen in him before, Arnav licked her skin and kissed it softly.

She felt a serene smile light up her lips as she gazed at him.

“What?” He whispered huskily as his eyes searched her face.

“I didn’t know you had the vampire tendency in you”

“Next time you’ll find me watching you sleep beside your window”, he said with a grin.

“I prefer werewolves”, Khushi said with a saucy wink.

“Oh really?”

With a scoff, he let his fingers skim her sides, sending her into bursts of giggles.

Lost amidst the cocoon of privacy they had found themselves in, Khushi froze as she heard the door creak open. Struggling to sit upright, she pushed Arnav away gently.

Embarrassed, she glanced up to meet tear filled eyes.

The door slammed right back as the interrupter left.

“Who?” Arnav groaned as he finally pushed himself off her.

“Lavanya”, she replied in a small voice.

Looking away, she ran a hand through her tangled hair.

Clearing his throat, he began,”Khush-“

“She was crying”

Arnav frowned. But she went on, “She saw us and she started crying”

“I am not talking to her. I haven’t since the picnic. I really don’t think you should worry about it Khush”

He took her hands in his, rubbing a thumb over them gently. She took a deep breath, mustering up a smile at him.

“You are right of course. It’s just-“

“It’s not a pleasant feeling. I know. But I did everything I could to help her fit in, make friends and yet she didn’t make any efforts”

Khushi nodded. Unsettling as the look on Lavanya’s face was, she knew that she couldn’t help it. Whatever little crush she has on Arnav will have to fade away with time.

“Want to go back to the party? You never know, NK might be swinging on the chandelier” , he said dryly.

She giggled, “Now that is a sight I want to see”

—————

Next chapter>>

Author's note:

A hundred apologies! I don't know if you missed this story, but I definitely missed writing it :)

Exams season swept me away~ while I have to face the current again mid December ;(

I hope to tie the bow on 'September Rain' by then 🤞🏻

Next update: Tomorrow ^⁠_⁠^

Tagging: @hand-picked-star @phuljari @msbhagirathi @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @minpdnim @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm @chaiandtakkar @colorfulangelpeach

[st4rsinclined]

do people whisper about you on the train like me? - floch for eren

they are both traversing a path that they aren't sure where it's going to lead.  eren is more free with his choices, spite twisting his every whim because it's a better option than dwelling on there might be another thing that grisha may hate him for.  floch is a little more reserved, a little more quiet; he comes from a family that is prominent and still rising in the political scene, who talks about having a marriage ready to be arranged at any point that they see fit.  sometimes eren doesn't understand why floch doesn't just tell them to fuck off, but he accepts that it's not so easy to do that.  he accepts that it's not so easy to turn your back on your family  ––  just because eren is the epitome of spite doesn't mean that everyone is.

so when floch gets like this, eren has to stop  &  assess the situation, has to glance from all angles as he approaches it.  really, he should do that with everything; being so damn quick isn't always a good thing  &  it's gotten him in trouble plenty of times before.  his sock clad feet are quiet as they move around the kitchen island  &  toward the living room couch  ––  grisha is out with dina again, campaigning for zeke's latest business venture  &  assessing some bakery that he's thinking about putting his money into.  it leaves the townhouse quiet,  &  it's given eren a perfect opportunity to invite floch over, to pull him into the depths of his web until they're far too tangled to ever separate.

perhaps it's wishful thinking that floch wants to be in that web; the trepidation that constantly pinches at his brow makes him think that maybe it's not that way at all.  that maybe eren is the one that is hopeful that this will become something, that floch will look at him in the middle of a crowd  &  find him so damn easily.  that floch will come for him if he just hopes hard enough.  the relationship between them teeters casually like it's on a playground; it's full of fighting self pride versus self preservation  &  eren never knows which is going to actively win out. 

he comes around the couch, making the move to leap over the back of it.  it brings a scowl to floch's face as his ass lands in his normal spot, but it gives way to something softer once he's in view.  emerald takes in his body language before he leans forward, gently smoothing his thumb between his brows.  " you shouldn't frown so much.  it doesn't look good on you, hard as that is to believe. "

a small smile settles on eren's lips  &  floch lets out an exasperated sigh, but there's the softest hint of gentleness that enters his expression.  it's enough  ––  it gives eren the space that he needs to lean forward  &  pull him into his arms. 

floch refutes the move for a moment before settling in against his chest, his shoulders slowly untensing as eren's thumb runs along his stomach rhythmically. 

" they do, but i'm sure it's for different reasons.  they look at you  &  see eligible bachelor that they're wondering if they can learn more about. "   which is true enough  ––  floch is one of the more sought after ones in their social group, no matter how annoying he can be at times  &  the arrogance that pools off of him in waves.  girls  &  boys alike all seem to flock to that sort of chemistry  ––  it's enough to make eren scowl constantly whenever they begin to approach.  it makes him want to bear his teeth  &  show them who he belongs to.  

he can't do that though.  they aren't exactly a relationship that dwells out in the open.  eren gets it, he does; he's spent years tip toeing around grisha because he's seen how he's reacted to some of zeke's relationships.  but he wants desperate to be able to pull him in  &  kiss him, to drown out any thought that he could be someone else's.  he hates it  ––  it's this annoying part of him that he can never actively move past.  

it's who he is.  it's in his dna, pumping blood into his system. 

he hooks his chin onto his shoulder as he lets out a slow breath, eyes slipping shut before he tucks his face into the expanse of neck that floch presents him with.  " they look at me  &  they wonder when the next time is that i'm going to make an absolute ass of myself.  they look at me  &  see grisha's reject son.  the bastard affair child, if you will. "  there's a teasing smile in his voice, even if the underlining of it is truth  ––  &  it's somewhat sad, no matter how much he doesn't want to admit it to himself.

he's been holding the weight of it on his shoulders for so long now that it just feels like an irrefutable fact, like it's just part of him.

" stop thinking so hard about it.  they're not thinking anything about you that you haven't heard before.  &  if they're questioning about us, is that really so bad, floch?  that they could think of an us? "  it is  &  eren knows it  ––  he tries not to be bitter about it, but it's acid on his tongue, it sours his mood for how he wanted the evening to go. 

but he doesn't say anything more on it.  he simply holds floch  &  feels when he sinks into him, then reaches for the remote to flick through the stations.  it's all buzz to eren, anyway; a background to the ringing in his ears, to the shame that threatens to choke him. 

he knows intimately what it's like to be the secret.  it seems to be that one constant that follows him wherever he goes.

[volturigroupie]

You ARE bed (and so much more): Alec Volturi One-shot

Premise: Imagine the impossible, Alec Volturi no longer part of the Volturi. Instead of lurking in the shadows of stone-paved Volterra, he's now at a place unimaginable. Unfathomable. Something nobody could have possibly dreamed up. Then again, they do say life is stranger than fiction. If at all possible, picture this; a coven, yes, but not a simple vampire coven. No. A blended coven. One made up of vampires, witches, and… Well, whatever spawned whenever the two, you know.

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

The silence between them was peaceful, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the chirp of crickets. Agnes shifted slightly on the blanket, leaning back on her elbows as she glanced up at the tree overhead. The branches swayed gently, framing the already visible moon in the persimmon sky as it peeked through the canopy.

A short distance away, sat Alec, leaning against the tree eyes closed. He hasn't moved or spoken in a while. If she hadn't known better, she'd say that he was asleep.

She glanced at him and suppressed a sigh. What was this meant to be? Was this his idea of 'fun'?

Surely, this wasn't a case of non-feelings. The boy practically scoured the Earth to find her, after she escaped Volterra, no longer willing to work for the self-appointed, undead rulers— AND HE STAYED.

Was he trying to drive her mad? Because 'Aloof' didn't even begin to cover it. His actions screamed committment, yet his general disposition merely shrugged at her entire existence.

If this were a game of chess, then… Oh, forget it. Playing it his way would lead to nowhere. Clearly, like all the times before, if she wanted more then she'd have to be the one to take the leap.

Her lip curled as she peered at the sky. "This is nice,—"

"—but you know what would make it even nicer?" she asked, a mischievous lilt in her voice.

He didn't look at her as he responded. Didn't open his eyes. "What?"

Instead of answering, Agnes moved across the blanket, her hands pressing lightly into the fabric as she crawled toward him. Without hesitation, she nestled herself against his side, slipping under his arm and resting her head beneath his chin. Her hair brushed his neck, soft and warm, as she adjusted to fit comfortably against him.

His arm automatically shifted to accommodate her, wrapping loosely around her shoulders. His movements were smooth, instinctive—no hesitation, no awkward stiffness.

“Personal space?” Agnes teased, her voice muffled slightly. “Nope. Never heard of her.”

“So I’ve noticed,” he hummed.

She grinned, tilting her head slightly to look up at him. “You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

His tone flat but with a faint, teasing edge. “I’ve learned that resistance is futile.”

She laughed softly, her breath warm against his collarbone. “Smart vampire.”

They sat like that for a while, the stillness of the evening settling comfortably around them once again. Agnes’ breathing was steady, her presence grounding in a way Alec hadn’t expected. He wasn’t used to this—this— hmm. But with her, it was… easy. She made it easy.

His eyes opened and for a moment Alec simply watched her, the tension that so often lingered in his chest dissipating. For once, he didn’t think about the future, or the impossibilities of what they were.

“You know, for someone who pretends to hate company, you’re pretty good at it.”

Alec huffed quietly, his fingers brushing absently against her sleeve.

When he didn't say anything else, Agnes adjusted slightly. Then, without looking up, she reached out for his free hand— the one resting lightly against the blanket. Her touch was soft, tentative at first, as though testing to see if he'd pull away.

He didn't.

Agnes turned his hand over in hers, her fingers tracing lightly along the contours of his palm. She didn’t speak, her focus entirely on the texture and shape beneath her touch. The coolness of his skin was familiar now, no longer startling but still strange in its own way.

He watched her in silence, his gaze unreadable. He could feel the subtle tremor in her hands, the way her fingertips skimmed over his cuticles, trailed along the edges of his fingers. It wasn’t a calculated touch—more curious than anything else—but there was something in the quiet intensity of her focus that rooted him in place.

“What are you doing?” he finally asked, his voice low but lacking its usual sharpness.

A faint smile was her only reply as she pressed her thumb lightly into the centre of his palm, feeling the uncanny smoothness. “Your hands don’t feel like hands, you know.”

“Do they not?” he murmured, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

“No,” Agnes replied, shaking her head.

She ran her fingers over the ridges of his knuckles, her voice softening. “They’re too perfect. No calluses, no imperfections. "They’re…" Her mind drifted. What have these hands done over the centuries? 1200 years is a long time. A very long time. How many were silenced? How many drained and killed? "…unnerving.”

She turned his hand slightly, her thumb brushing against the underside of his wrist. Her movements slowed as she traced the faint lines there, her thoughts now running in another direction. How many times have these very same hands guided, held, and saved her? Her chest grew warm. Far too many times. “They’re also kind of beautiful,” she admitted quietly, as though the words had slipped out before she could stop them.

Alec’s gaze sharpened slightly, though his expression remained composed. “Beautiful?”

'Beautiful? Beautiful!?' She had never described him that way before. What came over her?

"Y-yeah…" Agnes nodded, her fingers trailing back to his palm. "Like… I don't know. Artful."

Trying to remain 'cool' she placed her hand against his, palm to palm, comparing the size. His fingers extended well past hers, his hand broader, longer, and so still it might as well have been carved from stone.

“You make me feel tiny, you know that?” she said with a faint laugh, tilting her head to look up at him.

Alec glanced at their hands, the contrast between them stark—the warmth of her skin against the chill of his, the old burn marks etched into hers. He didn’t comment on them, though his gaze lingered briefly before returning to her face. “You are.”

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "That's ruuuude."

Alec didn’t reply, his fingers twitching slightly beneath hers. She noticed, of course—she always noticed—but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned his hand again, letting her fingers brush along the back of it, tracing the veins that didn’t carry blood.

“Agnes,” Alec said quietly, his voice cutting through the stillness.

“Hmm?”

His gaze was steady, unreadable. “Why are you doing this?”

Agnes paused, her fingers stilling for just a moment. Then she smiled, glancing up at him. “Because I can.”

Although his mouth parted neither spoke after that, the words he meant to say ('I'm glad you feel like you can') having died on his tongue. Another thing she missed was the soft, lingering smile that finally (finally!) broke the neutrality of his expression. But perhaps she felt all this somehow, because as they both gazed at the darkening horizon, their hands slowly, tentatively, interlocked.

***

Gradually, the evening bled into night. Fireflies appeared, floating through the air around them like willow-wisps. At her behest, now that she could see them too, he told her about the stars and constellations above them. Why did he know so much about the night sky? He told her the truth. Throughout his existence, the world around him changed to an unnatural degree, but the stars— the stars haven't changed at all. There was solidarity in that. Recognition. Familiarity. He spoke too much and she too little, he suddenly realised before growing silent.

As the air around them chilled, he repositioned, pulling her closer against him whilst pulling the blanket up to cover her. It wasn't often that he wished to be mortal, but right now was one of those times. Instead of this infernal frigidity, he wished he could offer her more comfort; warmth, softness. Honestly, she deserved so much more.

Voice heavy, burdned by sleep. "Alec…"

He glanced at her. It wasn't a question. "Yes?"

"I…" she trailed off with a soft sigh.

He almost chuckled. Almost. "Is that code for 'carry me to bed'?" He asked, pushing back a strand of her toffee-coloured hair.

"Nooo," she protested with a breathy laugh, nuzzling closer into his neck. "You… you ARE bed."

He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't comment.

"Besides…," she continued, "I'm not sleeping. Keep… keep telling me about this Cassiopeia."

He knew that this was her being 'sleep-drunk'. That he should take her home, tuck her into her bed. But the thing was, that he was enjoying this more than he would ever admit… and if she insisted that he was her home—well, why should he deprive her?

"You'll regret this in the morning," he promised her softly, before indulging her further.

It wasn't long before a twitch in her arm made him pause again. Unsurprisingly, he found her weight on him just a bit more fluid, as well as her breath slower, pulse steadier and even.

"…liar."

'This makes it how many times now?'

His fingers drifted to her temple, without hesitation he pushed back a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. Lingering, his touch slowly traversed downward. The back of his fingers leaving goose bumps in their wake.

He paused there. His gaze fixed on the pulsing spot. It wasn't hunger that called him, the coven never let him thirst after all. If he had to be honest, until now he didn't notice just how long it's been since the last time his throat burned. It almost felt— HE almost felt— human. Maybe that's why…

She inhaled deeply and sighed, leaning more into him. A fleeting smile graced his face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

So no, it wasn't hunger. It was something, something he couldn't quite name. Not yet.

He searched her face from an angle, as she rested on his shoulder. But the answer to the recently ever present, gnawing thought wasn't there.

His hand dropped away from her neck. Instead, he took hold of her hand that lay limply in his lap. Tracing along the edges of the scars, burn marks, that will likely never fade completely.

This girl that never stops giving. Who forgives and sometimes even forgets. The girl who trusts monsters to do the right thing, to not hurt her… He stopped moving completely. His grip on her hand unconsciously tightened. Just a little. Just enough to feel something real.

So why hasn’t she trusted me?

At least not completely. Not with her blood.

'I don't get it Agnes.'

'You fall asleep like this… you see me drink from the others…'

He looked back at the sky, as if the moon and the stars knew the secret, and let the night drag on. Tried to. The thought refused to be buried.

'You… wouldn't play with my heart, would you?'

Maybe it was the scrutiny of the celestial lights that in the end convinced him.

'How about this,' he laughed to himself at the absurdity, 'I'll trust you not to hurt me.'

As predicted, once the morning came Agnes wasn't thrilled to find herself still outside. He had to remind her, matter-of-fact, that it was she who insisted on this impromptu camping experience.

[garmgeyr]

How this package has made its way across the universe's endless darkness is perhaps better not asked. One can only assume that where there is a will, there is a way. And, well, one such as Neuvillette does have some ways at his disposal.

Whatever the case may be, a gift awaits Gallagher, having found him regardless of the distance (even if it may have done so with a bit of a delay). Inside, he would find a little trinket - a pocketwatch, small in size, but without doubt made with great care and precision by an expert in the craft - so much so that it has survived this arduous journey in pristine state and continues to work perfectly, softly ticking away. The edges of its casing are decorated with a gentle pattern reminiscent of water's waves.

Alongside the gift is a simple note.

一 To Mr. Gallagher,

I can only hope that this package reaches you, for unless you have a way of contacting the world of Teyvat, I have no method of finding out whether or not it did.

If it does however, I would like to wish you a happy birthday. I was not sure what to send alongside this letter, but since we spoke of the importance of moments and I remember the words of both you and Ms. Robin most fondly, I eventually settled on this. In addition, I believe that last time we met, I got a chance to see a specialty from your homeland, and now, I wished to share something from mine.

May our paths cross again one day.

一 Neuvillette

By some miracle, the gift had reached its recipient. One lucky encounter after the next carried it from reality into the land of dreams, and finally into the hands of a courier who happened to remember that a ‘Mr. Gallagher’ had once held some sort of office within Dewlight Pavilion. The secretary did not recall such a name, but agreed to hold onto the package until someone came to pick it up, believing that perhaps they went by a different alias within the dream. Within hours, it had disappeared from the mailboxes she not-so-diligently watched over for the other members of the Family.

How Gallagher, now no longer pretending to be any significant Bloodhound, much less someone important enough to frequent the candlelit halls of the Pavilion, had known that a package had been waiting for him would remain one of his many mysteries. In the corner of some unremarkable cafe in the Moment of Oasis, he laid out the contents of the small, carefully wrapped package across a square table fit for two - a handwritten letter on his left, a hinged box sitting open on his right, and memories of a distant tower of autumnal fire filling all the spaces inbetween. In the palm of one hand nested a timepiece so similar, and yet so different from the clocks that ironically made the foundation of every design choice on the timeless Planet of Festivities.

Was this how Mikhail had felt, he wondered, when he’d first been given a watch? That fascination with the intricate pieces that made it tick and the unstoppable march toward the future had been as verdant as a child’s blooming optimism even by the time Gallagher had met him. And before the mantle of the Watchmaker had been woven to fit around his shoulders, he was the watchmaker. Many a weary evening, the hound had settled in the corner of the office to marvel at the clocks that adorned its walls as Mikhail penned away at letters and drawings and new storyboards, or fiddled with some new or old watch. And still the old hound would take up his post, even when the well-worn chair sat empty, to contemplate the rhythmic ticking of a dozen synchronized hands that never once stopped. They represented something that Gallagher had long resigned to never really understanding.

’May our paths cross again one day.’

As long as time marched ever onwards, the world would remain full of chances and opportunities. He was starting to understand, just a little.

- -

So Gallagher picked up his old friend’s habit and embarked for somewhere else - a city of water far, far away, hosting a film festival that could have been right at home among the cinema-paved streets of Penacony.

When Neuvillette returned to his office at the end of it all, he would find a single can of soda on his desk, colored in pinks and teals, with a pawprint right in front.

[bivsinfragments]

hie, let me begin, again.

i sit here, pen trembling against paper, thinking of the years that have passed, three of them, like waves folding into each other, each one carrying pieces of you, and somehow, still holding pieces of me.

you’ve always been the shore I could come back to— steady, waiting, unmoving, even when the storms in my head made me drift far, far away. i wonder how you do it, how you stayed, even on the days when the silence between us felt too loud to ignore.

You drifted, and I never tried to follow. i didn’t ask why or how. maybe i thought we were unraveling, fraying in the quiet way things sometimes do, and i told myself it didn’t matter. but if i’m honest, i’ve always been looking for answers, searching for pieces of truth in the spaces you left behind.

it felt easier to let the distance bloom quietly between us, like vines splitting stone. i told myself it was natural, inevitable, that some things crumble because they must, not because we let them.

(told myself we’d grown apart and let that truth settle like dust on an old photograph.but even dust carries weight, doesn’t it?)

today, nostalgia came rushing in, a wave i couldn’t stop. it carried me to questions i didn’t realize were buried inside me— why? how? when? the kind of questions you whisper to the ocean because you’re too afraid of hearing them out loud.

there’s a tenderness in your presence, one i never dared to look at too closely, like holding sunlight in your hands, knowing it could slip through your fingers.

i never looked at you closely enough to notice— your eyes, hazel, not brown (though they still seem brown to me). but it was never about the color of your eyes, or your favorite shade, or the little things i thought i knew. it’s about knowing you, or at least believing i did.

you wear nonchalance like a mask, but i remember the boy from three years ago, with a smile that felt like a warm sunrise, a quiet welcome when the world felt cold and unkind. you didn’t know it, but you were home to me. when i didn’t belong anywhere, it was with you that i felt whole.

you fit me better than my favorite sweater— soft, familiar, something i never wanted to take off

you were a good friend— so good that even now, i hate the way time carved you into someone else. but i don’t blame you; people grow, like rivers splitting into separate streams, and sometimes, they drift so far apart they forget where they started.

still, you’ve left a mark, etched deep into the quiet corners of my heart, a place no one else will ever quite touch. my parents loved you once—they still do, and sometimes, i think they saw something in you that i was too blind to notice.

i spent years chasing shadows of you, dating strangers who felt like echoes of the best friend i had, of the best friend i lost. and all that time, you were there—steady, patient, like the sky above a restless sea. but i never saw you for what you were.

you liked me, and maybe i knew, maybe i didn’t— (or maybe i simply didn’t know how to hold the weight of what that could mean.) or maybe i only understood in fragments, like trying to piece together constellations with clouds smothering the sky. but let me say this, clearer than i ever have before: i never said i didn’t like you. not once. those words never left my mouth, never found a home in my heart. they hung in the air, unsaid, unspoken, like a leaf caught between falling and flying. but you were there, and you are still here, stitched into the fabric of my life in ways no one else could ever be.

you’ve always been more than you realize— more than just a friend, more than just the boy with the warm smile and the kind of patience the world rarely shows. you were my anchor,

even now, even though i know i’ve slipped from your grasp, and maybe you from mine, there’s a part of me that still turns to you. on the days when the world feels like it’s splitting open, when the ground beneath me cracks and quakes, i think of running to you— because you’ve always been the calm after the storm.

and maybe that’s my fault, for never saying it out loud, for letting silence build its walls. but let me break it now— you are, and always will be, something more than i’ve ever been able to put into words.

[mahaveer2023]

Elevate Your Living: Luxury Apartments by Mahaveer Construction in Hyderabad

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[pip-says-hi]

So here's the thing:

I don't hate my body, but I hate Being Fat.

Like, I don't hate the physical body I am in. I wish it worked better. I wish I didn't have the allergies I do, and that my knees didn't suck, and that it hurt less, but those are normal things for every sized body when you've lived in them long enough. But I don't hate the way I look. I don't hate looking in the mirror and seeing a fat person look back. I don't hate the proportions of my body. I don't hate my thighs or my arms. I like the soft way my body feels to the touch. I like not feeling my bones sticking out everywhere- it feels generous, resourceful, maybe a little bit indulged. It feels loved, like I have been loved and loved living my life. I like how warm it keeps me in the winter- I am literally almost never cold. I like the feeling of greater mass and how it makes me feel less vulnerable, less delicate. I like feeling like a boulder settled into the earth, unmovable and unshakeable. When I was doing tae kwon do I loved the fact that even experienced instructors couldn't move me if we were both focusing on planting ourselves, because you can't move a mountain. I like that my fat gives me a more commanding presence, and seems to demand a little more authority than skinny women get. I like the way that my broad chest and back can show off more patterns on clothing. I don't hate my fat body.

But I hate Being Fat.

I hate that chairs aren't made for someone as heavy as me, and it's so hard to find one that's wide and deep enough and supportive to hold me for a long time. I hate not knowing if I will fit in a booth in a restaurant because they make them so narrow. I hate being pinched in the sides by the armrests of narrow seats. I hate not being able to find clothes my size, because even if the store carries my size, they're probably out of stock, because a lot of women are my size but they only stock a couple of items at most no matter how quickly they sell out. I hate nothing ever being cut correctly (fat women with long legs exist, I promise!). I hate the judgemental looks, the snide comments, the jokes. I hate eating in public and feeling people watch me. I hate always being expected to be the one to get out of the way, I hate it being assumed that I am in error for taking up too much space, I hate that people jump to conclusions about my personality based on my body. I hate narrow toilet cubicles with inward-opening doors that I can only open and close while straddling the toilet. I hate brand new amusement parks still making rides that they didn't bother engineering to allow people like me to ride. I hate that medicine doses are calculated for people half my size and there's no safe guidelines for dosage that will both be effective and not be harmful. I hate that people will hold open the door for the slim woman coming in before me and allow it to close in my face because I am seen as unworthy of manners or chivalry. I hate being looked down on and held in contempt and being socially invisible and not being treated like a full-ass human being and member of my society. I hate even family and close friends making judgy comments about someone else's weight because they just forget that I am fat, too, and that it might hurt me to hear them equating being fat to being lazy or slovenly or disgusting.

I hate that the single only solution to any of that is to Not Be Fat. To radically alter my body. I hate that anyone feels they are completely in line and justified in telling my that radically altering my body is an option I should actively pursue. I hate that this society hates the existence of my body, and bodies like mine, so much that it is considered routine to surgically mutilate the digestive system of people like me so that they can not physically consume enough calories to not actively starve, nevermind that starvation is wildly unhealthy and people who have gastric surgery routinely face complications from it and side effects of malnutrition because, again, they're starving- but none of that is considered important because they are Losing Weight. I hate that the world around me would rather see me thin and dead than support me being alive and fat.

I hate it. I hate being ostracized, othered, neglected, rejected, judged, discriminated against, bullied, and otherwise generally treated like I am actively, consciously participating in a crime and insult against society for existing in a body that is fat. I don't hate the fact that I am fat, but I hate Being Fat, because I hate the fact that I am hated for being fat.

So, yeah. It means a lot, like, one whole hell of a lot, to see even just some stranger on Tumblr saying "fat people deserve good things" or "the parts of you that you like are appealing and deserve to be appreciated." So thank you for that.

i want to become a jesus-like totem for fat people on this site like. if all else fails and you feel down and ugly and dont like yourself, believe in tumblr user were--ralph who believes you're hot and deserve the best regardless of gender and yes that includes you even if you dont think it does

i do not want a religion or cult though those things are a little too far, i just want people to feel good about themselves

[thebloomingbodygraph]

it's a definition thing

Sometimes you meet those people who just get you. You know, the ones you don't have to explain things to... the ones you can live senses wide open next to... the ones who can understand your silence.

Sometimes you meet those people that just fit. It's almost inexplainable the way they settle into the spot in your life/heart/space, as if they were always meant to be there, and somehow, in perfect timing, just showed up.

That happened to me this weekend.

I met an incredible person through a facebook group, where I'd posted seeking out some chosen family, after the hardest years of having no famililal network. I explained in this group that I'm no-contact with my parents, that it's hard, and that it's been a lonely three years full of therapy, healing, and grief. And that at this point in my process I'm really seeking out chosen family. I listed a little bit about me, what I'm into, and someone I was looking for. Enter Jen.

Jen is a rockstar, barely old enough to be my mom, and one of the literal most awesome people I've ever met. She showed up to breakfast with me this past weekend in a shirt with a Bee on it that said (bee) kind. She didn't know bees are a symbol for me of trusting the process, sweetness, and allowing yourself to enjoy.

Jen and I had breakfast for three hours.

It was the best morning. I had my favorite food, we talked about everything from family to our favorite shows, and we've got plans for mediterranean food and sedona trips. She even wants to come support my kid at his extracurriculars! WHAT!

Part of me knew that it was time. Time to reach out to the ether and signal my readiness. Time to magnetize the chosen family I want around. Time to breathe life into who I'm wanting to become, and that means building my community. And there is another part of me who is REALLY shocked at how amazing I feel having some chosen people around. Like... I knew it would feel good... but THIS GOOD? This wholesome? This nourishing? This emotional?

Her husband is from my hometown. Her birthday is coming up and I get to celebrate her. Her cats are named after witches.

I couldn't have scripted this better.

And that's why definition is so important -- because when it's right, it's right. You just know. You fit together like puzzle pieces when your openness, bridges, etc are bridged and complemented by someone else. In Human Design, the spots you have open or undefined can be "filled in" or bridged by someone's defined centers. I describe this like layers of tissue paper; when we're together we can "lay over" someone else's design and have access to different energy patterns than we would on our own.

I don't know Jen's design yet. But I have a hunch that our wiring will complement SO MUCH. Because I felt it in person. I know we're on the same line of geometry -- the same "fractal" as HD calls it. I usually call this "fractal buddies" when I teach. :D

It's that feeling of definition being shared, when someone's wiring complements yours, and when you can be fully yourself, in unison with them being fully themselves.

My root, sacral, ajna, and crown are undefined... my crown is completely open. I'm curious what Jen's design is, and if I had to guess, I would bet she's a fellow projector, or perhaps a MG. I felt her aura poke and bubble me so much, and the questions she asked were PHENOMENAL.

Just goes to show you that even when you're separated by time and space, the souls that want to do life together will... and the ones who want to bounce out (á la my bio parents), will.

Trusting that the fractal is flawless, that everyone meant for you won't miss you... has given me the most peace.

I'm curious if she bridges my split at 26... we will see!

[seasonalcherry]

7/5 - twink pool party, dreams, T realization (letting go) - BUT I AM INFINITE AND A CREATOR AND LOVE PURE LOVE SO ACT LIKE IT, DAMMNIT

This is me making a blog journal without password protecting it for the first time in AGES.

Yesterday I upset myself processing my mommy issues, did the LBRP, felt somewhat better, became upset again in a "flat" way, and then went to the party anyhow. As the hours wore on I felt more and more in my skin, coming in and out of presence. I was drawn to AP; our contact fed me in a different way as they operated on a different wavelength. Like, one closer to my own.

When they said they remembered being born I almost believed them. A separate consciousness watching their consciousness enter its human form for the first time. A dad that is dressed as a doctor but is actually, truly, the doctor and not the father at all. What a scene. What an innocence.

I am attracted to the duality of their playfulness and intensity. It made me feel like their were people out there, "for me", for the first time in years. Like, I'm not going to just wander in a sea of incompatibility and incompleteness in others / prospective partners. I didn't even realize how deeply that belief had rammed in my brain.

I keep believing I have so much time and then no time. I find myself feeling some anxiety at the school days starting once more, but the fact of the matter is I have 4 days off each week and will continue to THRIVE.

*

I dreamed I'd let go of T for the first time truly, deeply truly. The first dream involved their mother, and yeah it was like a final coming to. We'd both drawn the same conclusion, finally. The second dream they were chasing after me. My phone was flooded with texts--not them desperately reaching out for love, but them reaching out for my contact and attention all the same. There was a beach and houses/statues/structures. Oh, I remember now. There was a shipwreck. I took photos to show people. When the tide came in they were all hidden, but when it went out I could see the destruction. Oddly, no lives were taken. It wasn't somber, more a curiosity. An Interesting Event.

Then, I was in a home set-up/designed/constructed by my tattoo artist Bethany. She is a lovely woman but her idea of a home included the smallest of openings, a tight corner like a crawl space (in fact it was a crawl space, just of bright fresh pine wood) to slither into the bedrooms. And slither out. It was too hard to get in and out, and I wondered about anyone the slightest bit bigger than me fitting.

I politely declined the home although I loved so many details of it. Maybe this is all the retelling of the relationship I am finally releasing. Final, final, final. Finally. I released and came back. Released and came back. But, in coming back, even if I were in full control over everything, could I so easily get over the past that I would rather that than a new, brighter, better scene with someone else?

The truth is, I like to do things. See things. Go places. Adventure. I realized T merely agreed to do these things with me and then never stepped up to have the plans in place. Even the bike ride this week, I don't know that they'll reach out over. Maybe day of or day before say hey about it. I don't think they mean harm, but I do deserve someone considerate who takes into account my schedule and plans and reaches out with intent and love ahead of time.

I deserve someone excited about plans together, and having people in my life now who want me in it (L, R) means I am experiencing for the first time in ages again what it's like to be wanted, craved, loved, adored, what it's like to have people "obsessed" (to use their words--I know it's half joking!) about me.

I know I am deserving. I know I am deserving of so, so much and I only settled for scraps because I craved to FINALLY be treated well. But, you can't keep turning to the hand that did not feed you and expect this time to be fed. I deserve open arms and aggressive love. I deserve someone who is seeking me out, chasing, loving, open, unabashed, and even in R's shyness I know there is welcome desire. There is excitement and compliments and a different energy that is so, so beautiful.

But it's not just a waxing poetic here, I'm trying to meat and potatoes my arguments. My statements. My facts.

I woke up and felt amazing; when I remembered the T aspect to my dreams the familiar burning in my chest came back. It is here now. How many times must I play in old wounds, old territory? Nevermore. I don't want to any more. I can be present and practice that and find new love and keep finding new life and keep giving myself all my needs. Not dwelling, but creating and sprawling and spanning on and on. I am infinite creation and love. I might as well act like it.

*

oh also, last thing, last night was night 3 of not eating past 8 PM (really was 8:30 but I came home at 7:45 from the pool party before heading back out for the fireworks, so I gave myself some grace with timing).

I am proud of myself though. I set an intent and stuck to it and it wasn't even a white knuckle procedure. I had gum and half a blue pill and that's all that was required to zonk after a certain hour.

It was me taking care of me, though. Something I couldn't do before and am doing so well now. <3

[lvllns]

there’s something very comforting in going from talking on skype until three in the morning almost every day to reaching out once every few months and yet. it feels like nothing has changed.