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

[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.

[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

Also on Wattpad

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

[planetkiimchi]

the strings of fate | l.mk

no. 5 of my song collection (requested!)

featuring: mark lee x gn!reader, chenle

word count: 7351

warnings: arson, fire, burning, people die in the fire, death (funeral), rooftops (?) if you're scared of heights, there's mentions of nudity but not described, swearing, you'll probably hate me for this fic but idc

playlist: anaheim - niki; 10:35 - tate mcrae; psycho - jun; adelaide - johnny orlando; let me go - hailee steinfeld + alesso + florida georgia line + watt; after you - gryffin + jason ross + calle lehmann; haunt you - x lovers + chloe moriondo

summary — when mark lee, student council president of riize highschool goes missing, you’re the first suspect. as his best friend and well-known crush, you stood to gain the most from it. you’re also vice-president, and with mark gone, you’ve stepped up to be the president and predicted valedictorian. all eyes are on you, and one wrong move can send you to your downfall. but who’s that lurking in the shadows, tugging on the puppet-strings of fort irwin? the city is small, but you feel smaller as things go spiralling crazily out of control. OR mark loves you more than anything else in the world, but you're too broken to receive his love.

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

5 months ago — if i could, i’d freeze this moment, make it my home

“Mark?” You peeked into the room, footsteps resounding in the hollow space. Mark had promised to meet you at the auditorium, but he wasn’t there, leaving you stranded in the middle of the school in a dark room with only the dark red seats to keep you company.

As you turned to leave, you heard a muffled sound that sounded suspiciously like someone landing on the carpet floor. You looked behind you just in time to see Mark removing his mask, breathlessly calling after you, still clad in his Spiderman outfit.

“Just as I thought I’d been stood up,” you told him.

“Nope. In fact, I would have been early if someone hadn’t tried to mug me on my way here. It took some time to get changed and wrap him up in spiderwebs before I dropped an anonymous tip to the police station.” As he spoke, Mark reached into his back pockets, which were luxuriously deep and could seemingly fit as many things as Doraemon’s bag.

“I brought you the book you said you wanted,” Mark said as he pressed it into your hands. His smile was contagious, and you couldn’t fault him for having a heart of gold. It wasn’t his fault that he wanted to make things right, so you forgave him for it.

“Aren’t you gonna get changed?”

He blushed and made some vague motions with his hands before settling on, “Yeah. If you could just- turn around?”

You turned around swiftly, lips pressed together as you tried to ignore the hot blush spreading across your cheeks. You fiddled with the book in your hands, the thumping of your heart making it difficult for you to hear when Mark told you he was done.

He gave you a thumbs-up, and you saw his mask hanging out from the open pocket of his bag. You walked over to him, tucking the mask inside and zipping the pocket up before reaching up, tiptoeing slightly to reach his head, and smoothed out his hair.

He shook his head slightly and wiped the sweat off his brow with a grin. “Better?”

“Better.”

“Since we’re already here, why don't we take advantage of the projector and watch a movie?”

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “I’m a little busy,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck as you thought about the countless assignments you had piling up.

Mark smiled disarmingly and extended his hand, shooting webs from his wrist. They reached the control room, hitting the “on” button. The screen blinked on, showing the default screensaver. “I didn’t mean it as a question, more like an invitation. I know you’re still not over Chenle, so I thought this might cheer you up.”

You were given little choice when Mark slipped into one of the back seats, procuring popcorn from his bag like a magician, patting the seat beside him as he projected his Netflix account onto the screen, and “Little Women” started playing. You couldn’t lie, you had a soft spot for that movie, and seeing it playing was all it took for you to cave in and slump into the seat next to him, dispelling all thoughts of work from your mind.

“Are you supposed to be using your student council pass to get access to the auditorium for a movie?” You asked curiously, reaching for the popcorn.

Mark passed you the box with a dismissive shrug. “If they didn’t want me to take advantage of it, they wouldn’t have given it to me. Perks of being liked by the teachers, I guess.”

That was Mark Lee for you. Handsome, smart, popular—well-liked by both the student body and the faculty. He was perfection in a nutshell, and his heart was yours. You only regretted never being able to give him the same.

3 months ago — you’re all i want to, want to know

Dangling your feet off the rooftops, breeze soft against your skin as you watched the sunset. Yellow waves of light washed over the red sky, turning it gorgeous shades of orange and pink and purple, if you squinted hard enough.

The sky was a vast expanse of intangible matter, the whispers of the wind calling out to you. Instinctively, you reached out for it, hands grasping at thin air. It felt like it was just out of your reach, and you leaned further, hands outstretched…

You forgot that you were on the rooftop, stomach rising to your throat as you fell from the building, scream caught in your throat which was squeezed so tightly you could barely breathe.

Every second of the fall was torture. You could feel the air rushing past your face, hard enough to chafe but not dense enough to cushion your fall. Your hands flailed about, scrabbling for something to hold onto, desperately searching for holds to grab onto, until you felt a tug on your back.

Mark lowered himself to your height, and you found yourself swinging like a pendulum from the top of the building while Mark leaned into his pants like he was going rock climbing with his friends for leisure, fully trusting his webs to hold him up.

“You good?”

You nodded, gulping nervously. Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down…

Mark seemed to sense your fear, one hand wrapping around your waist reassuringly. The concrete touch of his arm against your back calmed you, and you inhaled deeply while staring straight into his eyes, refusing to look down for fear of how high up you were.

“You know, if you wanted to swing around town, you could’ve just asked.”

Your face dropped as you glared at him, your grip around his torso never loosening even for a second. “Ha ha, very funny. Please bring me back up before I throw up.”

“My pleasure.” Both of you shot up suddenly, and you almost collapsed in relief when your feet found hard ground again, but you made sure to move far, far away from the edge that time.

“I think I’m happy just staying here,” you said cautiously from the middle of the roof, as far away from all the sides of the building as possible. You knelt down to feel the ground, afraid that it wasn’t sturdy enough, before falling into a cross-legged position with a grunt.

Mark bent down to sit beside you, guiding your head onto his shoulder as he rubbed your back comfortingly. “I know it’s scary, but hey, the sunset’s worth it.”

Its beauty was almost comparable to Mark’s.

2 weeks ago — i can tell you mean it when you kiss me slow

Your hand tightened in Mark’s as he ran gleefully towards the ferris wheel, dragging you along behind him as he stood in line for the ride.

Autumn was all around you, in the air as auburn leaves drifted past on a breeze, gently gusting over your hair and leaving you feeling chilly but not cold. The crunch of your footsteps against the ground, the smell of apples all around, the earth heralded the third season of the year.

Mark’s figure was stark against the rest, dressed in all black against the neutral tones of fall, taller than everyone else. Mark was your rock, and sometimes he seemed a little larger than life.

The queue moved slowly, but Mark kept you entertained with silly jokes while it inched forward, and you found yourself lost in the sound of his laughter. It sounded muffled to your ears, like you were hearing it while you were submerged underwater. How could you bring yourself to hurt someone like him?

Your knuckles whitened as they gripped the side of the carriage tightly when you boarded the ferris wheel, eyes staring straight ahead—anywhere but down—while you fought to calm your racing heart.

“It’s not too scary if you look at me, right?”

You had to admit that he was right. If you focussed only on Mark, the world disappeared into a blur of white lights and cloudy skies, and the ground felt solid under your feet.

It was a reassuring thought to know that Mark had your back. So when you reached the top of the wheel, sky-high above the rest of the world with no weight on your shoulders, and Mark kissed you, you kissed him back.

You kissed him like your heart didn’t belong to someone else, like you didn’t care if it hurt him. Because you selfishly wanted his heart, even if you could never reciprocate his love for you.

1 day ago — but please don’t ask me, the answer’s no

You woke up in Chenle’s bed, his hands tangled in your hair while you wrapped your arms around him. The blanket was at your feet, having been kicked off in the night. Chenle’s breathing was peaceful, and the steady rise and fall of his chest pulled you out of your trance.

Chenle had done nothing to Mark, yet he had unknowingly hurt him again and again. You kept coming back to him even after you had broken up, slipping into his arms after shitty decisions late at night, clothes strewn over the floor as you willingly hurt yourself again and again.

To Chenle’s knowledge, you were single, and it was true—to a certain extent. You didn’t love Chenle, and he didn’t need to love you either. You had come to a mutual agreement that he would keep you warm on lonely nights, and there would be no questions asked.

In the mornings, you would leave, and there would be no expectations of breakfast or loving words when you woke. 

And so, you became a ghost of yourself, hovering in spaces just long enough for you to be seen before vanishing again, never happy or satisfied.

You pried yourself from Chenle’s hands, slipping into your clothes, running your hand through your hair in the mirror before rinsing your mouth and washing your face quickly. You left no traces of yourself behind, save for the guilt-ridden kiss you left on Chenle’s cheek with a sad smile.

Mark didn’t know what had happened when you met him that morning, reaching out to envelope you in a hug when you stiffened, pushing him away with a grimace. “Don’t- I don’t want to do this to you, Mark.”

He raised his hands in surrender, but you could have sworn heard his heart shatter, the pain in his eyes too much for you to bear. You turned towards the school, firmly avoiding his gaze as your lead-filled limbs brought you further and further away from him.

now — in a perfect world, i’d kill to love you the loudest

mark: can we talk? mark: i feel like there's something you're not telling me mark: i'm always here for you, you know mark: even if just as a friend

(i don’t know if that’s enough for you)

The messages he left on your phone burned a hole through your pocket. You didn’t want to answer them, but you didn’t want to ignore him either, so you opted to climb into a cab and asked it to take you to an isolated area just out of town. It was close enough for Mark to go to, but only as Spiderman. If he took any other form of transport, he would arrive too late.

you: 📍live location you: come over you: please

“Y/n?” Mark was in his Spiderman suit, eyes shielded by the mask. You couldn’t decipher any of his mixed emotions, but you saw his fingers twitch slightly before he reached out to touch the fence that separated you, hesitance laced in his voice. He sounded unsure, afraid even.

“Are you okay? What are you doing out here?” You had never heard Mark scared before. To you, he had always been the brave one, the one who walked first in haunted houses and killed insects while you screamed and leaped away. He wasn’t afraid of heights or those he fought against, and he seemed to shrink in front of your eyes when he was afraid.

“Can you come over to this side?”

Mark scaled the fence and dropped silently in front of you, cautiously moving towards you as his hand reached to pull his mask off.

“What’s going on?”

Mark felt somebody grab his hand, pulling him towards them with his face away while they held him in a chokehold. He felt a needle poking into his neck, injecting anesthetic into his bloodstream. He went limp in his captor’s arms, and was gently laid on the ground while his captor reached for their phone and stopped the recording.

“I’m sorry,” they whispered as they anonymously sent the video of an unmasked Spiderman to the news station they could count on to deliver their news the fastest.

but all i do is live to hurt you soundless

Mark came to in a dark room, hands tied behind his back. He tried to move his feet, and found that they were also tied to the legs of the chair. Defeated, he slumped in the chair, breathing heavily as he surveyed the room. It was small and empty, and he was the sole occupant inside it.

Welcome, Mark Lee. I hope you make yourself at home. With that, the speakers crackled and went quiet.

Chills ran down Mark’s spine as he heard the voice playing. Where were you, and why couldn’t he remember anything? His mind was foggy and he couldn’t remember a thing, except for your text. He remembered receiving it, and going to a shady, isolated place….

Could someone have kidnapped you and taken your phone to trick him? The idea of it caused his throat to seize, heart thumping painfully inside his chest.

The clanging sound of a door opening startled Mark, and he strained to see where the door was. He heard metal grating against the floor and the thump of footsteps, coming face to face with a masked silhouette. The white of the mask was a stark contrast to the dark cell, and it was the only thing Mark could make out.

A spoon clattered to the floor as the silhouette knelt down and set a tray of food on the floor, the water in the cup sloshing out at the impact. The silhouette’s voice sounded robotic when it spoke.

“I will untie your hands, and you can reach down to take your food. This will last you until tomorrow, so ensure that you don’t finish it all in one sitting. If you struggle or try to escape, just know that you won’t like the consequences.”

Mark’s hands felt numb, and he winced at the feeling of pins and needles as the blood gratefully rushed to his wrists, and he rubbed at his sore shoulders. He bent down gratefully to take a bowl of rice and meat from the ground, and when he sat up again, the masked person had vanished like a wisp of smoke.

say you see i’m lying, babe, and let this go

Mark was going insane. An entire day of silence was enough to drive a man to the brink of insanity, but Mark was just barely holding on. He had estimated the length and width of his cell, tried to write it down and realised that the best way was to write it in his food; hopped around, trying to stand up, and fell multiple times; and was growing bored.

He counted the seconds it took for him to breathe one full breath, then held his breath for as long as he could, then glanced back down impatiently at the analog clock he had found on his food tray.

If it was telling the right time, then 12 hours had passed since he had first woken up in his cell. He had fallen asleep in his chair during what he hoped was nighttime, but woken up with a crick in his neck that had been irritating him the entire day.

It didn’t feel like daytime, although it was supposed to be past noon, simply because there was no natural light filtering into the cell, and the only way he could see was by the light of the clock’s hands and numbers, and the dim light coming from what he assumed was a corridor outside his cell.

Mark drummed his fingers against his lap and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. He had eaten breakfast when he woke up, then lunch just after noon, but his water was running low and his parched throat itched.

It was odd, he thought, that the food that he had been given actually wasn’t that bad. It was simple, but the meat wasn’t as hard as he had expected, and he had been so hungry that he had scarfed it down in one go.

He was just about to risk hopping over to the door of the cell and yelling for help when the speaker that had scared him the night before suddenly crackled to life.

Fort Irwin is a little small for mysteries, but the latest case of Spiderman had everyone puzzled. Mark Lee, 17, was reported to be missing yesterday evening. According to reports from 35.7Hz Radio, the unmasked Spiderman circulating on the internet is exactly the same boy that has gone missing.

However, the hero was spotted swinging by a Target today, persuading a teenager to return the goods they had shoplifted from the store. Has Mark simply run away from home but felt obligated to continue enforcing the law, or has he been kidnapped?

And, more importantly, if Mark Lee has gone missing, then who is his replacement Spiderman?

Mark’s heart dropped as the speaker went silent. There had been a video of him being unmasked in his Spiderman suit? But he hadn’t even worn it in the past 24 hours—oh. Mark looked down at himself to check that he wasn’t wearing it anymore, finding his own clothes on his body.

Odd. He had only brought his phone with him when he went to find you, and he never wore his regular clothes under his suit. However, the clothes that he was wearing were definitely his—they even smelt like the laundry detergent his mum used when she washed his clothes.

If he was wearing his own clothes, then where had his Spiderman suit gone? He craned his neck to the side to look for it, immediately wincing in pain when he felt the burning pain sear through his neck. He had completely forgotten about his stiff neck.

He rubbed his neck, and the door creaked open, the masked silhouette standing there. “Good afternoon,” they said casually, picking up the empty bowls and cutlery from the floor. Mark had been bored enough to stack them up, so it was an easy task for his captor to collect the items and place them on the tray.

“If it were a good afternoon, I would be at home doing homework,” Mark snapped.

i can never promise you tomorrow

“Watch your tone,” his captor said. “I could kill you if I wanted to.”

“They’d find you,” Mark said, but he wasn’t very sure that they would.

“I don’t need to set my hands on you to drive you crazy. In fact, you’re already halfway there,” the silhouette sneered, and Mark could hear the contempt in their voice. He shuddered at the thought of going crazy, knowing that the boredom would surely drive him to do things he never would if he were in the right frame of mind.

“You should show me your face.” It was a weak attempt, but Mark didn’t want to hear anymore about his future loss of sanity, and he wanted to at least be able to identify the culprit if he ever got out alive.

“You’re changing the topic. And I don’t think I will,” the captor said. They grabbed the back of Mark’s chair and forcefully turned him around, facing him away from the door as their footsteps retreated out of the confines of the cell.

Later, the clang of a metal tray on the ground informed Mark that his food and water had been replaced, and he found that it had come with a chamber pot.

‘cause i have yet to learn how not to be his

Chenle’s hand traced lazy circles over your back until you turned to face him, legs intertwined in his.

“How are you- what do you think of the… y’know, the Mark situation?” He asked hesitantly. It was crossing some boundaries, that was for sure. Your and his relationship was meant to be free from emotional baggage, romantic gestures, and only meant as a way of comfort for both of you.

But at the end of the day, Chenle and you had dated once. Even if you had hated him for a while after the breakup, and he had ignored you for a good couple of months, he did still care about you, although he didn’t know how to—or whether he should—show it.

“I’m dealing with it,” you responded curtly. The truth was, it hurt more than it should. You were being investigated by the police, and when they found the last texts you had sent to him, it didn’t help your case much. The best you could do was to defend yourself, telling them that you had really only been in a bad place and wanted a friend to comfort you.

What they forgot was that he was still your best friend, and even if you didn’t love him back the way he loved you, he was still important to you. You didn’t want him to come to any harm, though it might seem differently to some.

You were, after all, vice-president on the student council. Now that Mark was incapacitated, you were the acting president. Besides, Mark’s crush on you had never been a secret, and half the student body thought that you had taken advantage of his crush on you to get rid of him.

His parents were the most worried, and you could barely look them in the eyes, knowing that you might have been the reason that Mark was missing. They didn’t suspect you, fully trusting you as Mark’s friend, but you didn’t want to let them down if the police found that you had led the kidnapper to Mark.

Mark’s exposed identity was also an issue. You and his parents had known since he decided to create an image for himself, but he had always wanted to keep it private for two reasons: he believed that good deeds did not need to be rewarded, and he was shy.

He didn’t want people to think of him differently because he was a “hero”. You admired him for that, but you also hated him for it. That he could be so noble and righteous, and you hated the jealousy you felt when you saw him walking around school and waving at everyone.

Superhero student council president Mark, who was only missing a lover in his otherwise perfect life.

this city will surely burn if we keep this as it is

Riize Highschool has been set on fire. 5 bodies have been recovered, and the number of injured individuals is 36 and counting. Authorities are working with the school to investigate the source of the fire. It is suspected to have been an arson attempt.

Mark’s mind ran wild with questions. Who could have tried to set the school on fire? Why? What was going on in the world, and why had his “replacement” not done anything about it?

His hands itched for something to do. The cell seemed to grow smaller by the day, the space constraining him and shutting him in. If he couldn’t escape soon, he would explode, and all the parts of him he’d tried hard to keep hidden would be on display for all to see.

He tried to pull his legs from the metal chains strapping him down for the hundredth time, pushing away from the back of the chair until he lost his balance and fell face-flat on the floor.

Blood dripped from his lips from where his teeth had torn skin, and he tried to push himself up from the floor. But the exhaustion and the weight of the chair on his back combined made it difficult, and his arms quivered from the effort.

He lay on the ground, breathing unsteady as he wondered if it was really better to be left in there alive or to leave the world peacefully.

i'd give anything to stop time

Mark missed being able to walk. He missed the sensation of sun on his face, of light reaching his eyes, he missed the freedom of not being trapped in isolated boredom the whole day. He missed his family and his friends, and most importantly, you.

He missed the curve of your neck and the warmth of you when you leaned into him on a cold day. He missed the way your waist felt in his on the rare occasions you let him hold you, missed your smile when you laughed at a silly joke on your phone.

He missed the way your face lit up when you saw him, missed sending you texts between classes, he missed everything about you. And he realised that lately, you hadn’t even felt like friends anymore.

Mark. You have fifteen minutes to leave this cell. You have been given all you need to leave, and I suggest you do it quickly.

Oh, by the way, your beloved Y/n is also trapped here. If you don't rescue them and leave in time, you can imagine what will happen.

Mark couldn’t tell what was going on in the cell, but it seemed to him that he could smell gasoline and smoke. His head whipped towards the door, seeing a flash of silver in his peripheral vision. A pair of wire cutters lay on the floor near the door of the cell, and he lunged for it, hands shaking as he tried to cut through his chains.

It was hard work, and his arms were tired and sore, and he struggled as he tried to free himself. When the second chain finally snapped, he dropped the wire cutters on the floor as he leaned back, spent.

But the reminder of you in danger spurred him on. He stood up shakily, fumbling for the key on the floor, and his trembling fingers only made it more difficult to unlock the door. As soon as he did, he stepped out into the hallway.

Smoke drifted in slowly, illuminated by the lights along the corridor. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but it was getting thicker by the minute.

“Y/n!” He yelled, voice hoarse from dehydration and misuse, desperately hoping that you would answer.

He almost collapsed from relief when he heard your voice. “Mark?”

“I'm coming! Please just keep talking, okay?”

“Okay.”

He ran down the hallways, your voice keeping him company as he searched for you.

“I miss you. I’m tired. I want to go home. Mark, we’ve all been worried sick while you were gone. I hate the responsibility you shoulder even more now that I know what it feels like, and I can’t believe you had to go through all of that. You’re insane for holding out for this long and I’m so glad you’re alive. Most of all, I miss every part of you. I’d give anything to have you back.”

“You sure about that?” The proximity of Mark’s voice filled you with relief. You turned towards the sound of his voice, and the blindfold over your eyes was the last barrier before you got to see him again. You heard the creaking of the door hinge and felt Mark’s hands land on your shoulders before he wrapped you into a hug.

As soon as he removed your blindfold, you were taken aback by how exhausted he looked. Dark circles were prominent under his eyes, his face gaunt and the cheekbones that used to be covered in a soft layer of fat seemed like a thin layer of skin over bone. His body, which used to seem taller and bigger to you just a week ago, had grown skinnier. He wasn’t taller, but somehow his body proportions looked off. He was smaller, taking up less space.

The outgoing, cheerful, popular Mark was gone — he had been replaced by someone a little awkward and unsure of himself, having grown used to living in fear.

You were in no place to comment on his appearance, however. Neither of you were in great shape; you were trussed up and your wrists were red from struggling against your bonds. Your ankles were bound tightly with rope, and it was clear to Mark that you had not been meant to stay there for long.

“We have to get out of here.”

“Yeah, no shit. Do you have a map or something? What’re you gonna do, navigate us out of here?” You were taken aback by Mark’s tone, and hurriedly amended your statement.

“I know there’s something in this room that you’re supposed to take. I was told that I would be able to get us out. Can you search the room?”

Mark scanned the room quickly before his eyes landed on you. Without a word, he knelt down in front of you, searching your pockets thoroughly. Your jeans pockets were empty, but there were a few surprises hidden in the thick folds of your hoodie.

“Got it,” he said triumphantly. He opened up his hand, and in his palm lay a few crucial items. His phone, car keys, and a sticky note.

“These are my car keys… how?” While Mark looked between his car keys and his phone, the gears in his mind whirring as he wondered how it could be, you snatched the sticky note from his hand and read the message aloud.

“Drive home, and never come back. Your car is outside. Leave.” The note ended on that threatening note, messy handwriting trailing off into a scrawl scratched across the page. Smoke drifted into the cell and you grabbed Mark’s hand.

“Run!”

As if on command, you saw the pathway lighting up. At the end of the corridor, a door opened up into light and with it, freedom. You ran toward it, the fire lapping at your heels. Although it hadn’t touched you, you could feel the blistering heat of it on your back, and the first thing you could think to do was flee.

The signs of freedom continued to greet you in the form of Mark’s car, and you ran over to the driver’s side while he unlocked the doors.

and drive around anaheim at sun down

Mark was blinking furiously, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand while you sped off, unused to the influx of light. Luckily, you hadn’t been in darkness for long, so you adjusted quickly enough to be able to drive safely.

You sat in silence like that for a while, and Mark leaned across to stare at the building, watching it go up into flames.

You said nothing as you turned on the highway, heading towards Anaheim. It was your hometown, and though it was a little out of the way, at least no one you knew would be there. For the time being, both of you needed some peace and quiet.

When the main road branched off, you took the first exit, finding yourselves next to a grass field. You shifted the car into reverse, parking along the side of the road and turning towards Mark.

“C’mon,” you gestured to him over your shoulder and went outside the car, feet sinking into the ground as you laid back onto the grass.

The sun had set on the drive there, and you could see the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, the small visible crescent shyly waving at you. You grinned back in response and felt Mark plop down next to you, one of his arms snaking under your neck and settling on your shoulder.

to teach my mind to put you first

Even if it was Mark’s hands around you, all you could think of was Chenle’s lips on yours and his hands in your hair, and not a single thought your restless mind conjured up was of Mark.

You wanted to rip the grass from the soil and scream into the void. Why couldn’t you just love him back? After all that Mark had done for you, all he had sacrificed for you, all he had given up just for a sliver of your heart? Why did your traitorous heart despise him so?

Perhaps it was because you didn’t deserve him, and despite all the selfish greed you harboured, you knew deep down that Mark deserved so much better.

here you are, a hero

Mark had grown comfortable next to you, breathing quietly as he let loose of every muscle in his body. He could feel every knot filled with tension dissipate, could feel the pain of every cut and bruise on his body finally sinking in, almost as if he’d been too scared to register it.

"Mark-"

"Y/n-"

"You go first."

"No, you."

“I want to kiss you” was his confession, blurted out like a bad choice from the depths of his subconscious, said aloud before he even had time to think it through.

“I’ll try hard not to make this feeling a crime,” he said as he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you tenderly, tears falling silently down his cheeks.

You knew you were only putting salt on the wound when you kissed him back, claiming the parts of his heart you had known were yours all along. You knew he liked you, and you hated hurting him but you never wanted to lie to him. You didn’t want Mark to think you loved him when you didn’t. Though you’d done so much to him, you didn’t ever want Mark to have his heart broken by someone who told him they loved him when they didn’t.

Not with all of their heart, at least. You did love Mark, platonically, but the important parts he wanted were the ones he couldn’t have, the ones that belonged to someone else.

You could feel Mark’s sadness piercing through your heart, his tears saltier than the dead sea. He was so genuine, so raw with his hurt as he kissed you, you almost caved and told him you could give up on Chenle. Almost.

But you couldn’t- you couldn’t do that to him.

you wanna be my new home

He pulled away, and as you stared at him, the pale yellow glow that emanated from him seemed to grow brighter before it faded. Mark, your guardian angel, who had fallen from glory and had been reduced to naught but a shadow of his former self. Everything that had made Mark stand out was gone.

And it was all because of you.

You had first started to want to know how to make Mark's webs synthetically when he first used his powers on you for target practice. His webs were long and unwieldy, and uncomfortable to use. You had been curious to see if you could possess those powers too, perhaps better than Mark.

The point where your intentions went from harmless to harmful was when you were about three-quarters of the way through the process. Mark had told you that he had won a scholarship that you had been eyeing.

It had been a tiresome period of jealousy for you, constantly feeling outdone by Mark. Him getting the scholarship you wanted had been the tipping point for you, and you were jealous that it seemed like Mark had the perfect life, while you were always competing with him. Sick and tired of it all, you had decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Your turn,” Mark said, interrupting your thoughts. “What did you want to say?”

“It was me, a week ago, that knocked you out and kidnapped you. I had been planning it since you had gotten that scholarship I had wanted, and by the time I realised that I wasn’t upset with you any more, it was too late. You had been gone for 3 days and I didn’t know how to let you leave without anyone figuring out that it had been me.

“I wanted to come clean, yet I was scared of the repercussions. It took me a few days to come up with a plan to get you to ‘save’ me so you wouldn’t suspect me, and I would burn the place down so no one would ever know.

“I wanted to live your life, Mark. I wanted to know what it was like to have everyone adore you, to be at the top of the world, carefree and loved. I was sick of hiding in your shadow, I wanted to know what it was like to be a hero, to no longer settle for second best.

“But after experiencing it? I don’t think I want that life. It’s not for me. The amount of pressure you must have been under every day of your life is not something I envy. I understand now why everyone admires you. You’re worthy of that, and I’m not.”

Your palms were clammy with sweat, unsure how he would react. “I’m sorry for all I did. I hope now you understand why I would never be worthy of your love. And I hope- I hope that you won’t love me anymore in ways I can’t return.”

You didn’t know what you had expected from Mark, but it definitely wasn’t acceptance, much less his forgiveness.

When he said, "It's okay," you looked at him in confusion. What was he talking about?

"What you've done is in the past. We're both here now, aren't we?" At that, you understood. It was because he was Mark Lee, angelic and purer than you could ever hope to be, with a heart bigger than the universe. Only he would be able to forgive you after everything you had done. You nodded, and when you stood it felt like your feet were weightless against the cotton candy clouds soft under your feet.

but baby, let up

By then it was getting late, and the sun was starting to set. Mark had been silent for a while, and though it worried you, you had other concerns. The most important one at the moment was how you were going to get back home, because you were still stuck on a little road in Anaheim when you lived all the way in Fort Irwin.

It was late at night and Mark’s phone was dead, so you handed him your phone to ask him to navigate. It was an unfamiliar place and you couldn’t wait to be back in the comfort of your home, and you wanted to get Mark back to his parents as soon as possible.

Deep down, maybe you wanted to prove that their trust in you wasn’t misplaced, wasn’t unwarranted. But when you slipped your phone into Mark’s hand, it was freezing cold, and when you turned to look at him, it sent shivers down your spine.

“Mark?” He disappeared before your eyes with a sad smile, fading into nothingness while you grasped at him in a panic, refusing to believe that he wasn’t real. Your attempts were all futile as your fingers met with cold air until all that was left of Mark was your memories and regret.

i won't ever recognize these roads

You sped back after that, unsettled and afraid. If you hadn’t saved Mark, then your guilty conscience wasn’t cleared after all. How long had you been hallucinating him? Had Mark ever been real, or was he simply a figment of your imagination? How much of your reality could you trust?

Your foot on the accelerator never let up, speeding across the highway with a sinking feeling in your stomach. If Mark was real all along, and you had kidnapped him, but he wasn’t there with you, then there could only be one possibility…

'cause i am lost, but not in you

“Chenle,” you managed breathlessly while Chenle looked at you in horror. He was dressed in pajamas, as if he had been about to sleep, and you knew you were a mess.

Your wrists were red from struggling against the bonds that you had tied for yourself, an effort to make your kidnapping look real to Mark. Parts of your hair had been singed in the fire, and you smelt strongly of smoke and sweat. Your clothes were stained brown from the wet soil of the grass fields, and your shoes were falling apart.

“I think I killed him.” You wished the revelation would hurt, but Chenle slamming his door in your face hurt you more. You sank to your feet, defeated, back against his door as you sighed.

Perhaps it would be better if you ceased to exist, too. At least in hell you would get the punishment you deserved.

epilogue.

The sky burns bright like ochre, burnt umber streaks like autumn. As if on cue, as the coffins are lowered side-by-side into the earth, thunder rumbles across the sky. The sky weeps as if haunted by memories, harbouring the guilt of the murderer and the pain of their victim.

The land sings its heart out, crickets chirping and nightingales drifting by as the sky darkens. Chenle tightens his grip around the chrysanthemums in his hand as he watches the disfigured silhouettes descend.

He doesn’t know what to do. Mark Lee had been a friend of his. Granted, not a close one, but a friend nonetheless. And to think that his fuck-buddy had killed him in cold blood was a burden he wasn’t sure he wanted to bear.

He breathes in and sighs. Even if he loved you, it was too late to change the course of things. All that had happened would have happened some way or other, and all he could do was try to right things in his own way.

Chenle watches on in silence as the families of the bereaved pay their respects. He’s hidden under the shelter of the umbrella, drawn to his eye-line so no one can make eye contact with him. He observes silently as the families mourn their loved ones, not knowing that the two best friends hadn’t been kidnapped, but that one had killed the other.

When you had showed up at his door, Chenle had the fright of his life. Your pants were dotted with blood, tears streaming down your cheeks. When he heard what you had done to Mark, his first instinct was to deny it. He slammed the door in your face, head spinning, stunned by your confession.

There was nothing else he could have done.

He could not have stopped you, headstrong as you were, heading back the entire way to Mark’s deathbed, where you hugged him tightly as flames enveloped you, burning away all traces of your guilt.

When the authorities found you a day later, the forensics seemed to match up to logic—the unknown killer had killed both of you, burned you to erase their footsteps, and you two had huddled together in fear during your last moments.

He kneels to the ground and weeps with the sky, umbrella dropping to the side as the downpour drenched him and the earth as if they were one. His sorrow would melt into the soil if it could, but as it could not, it remained heavy in his heart.

Onlookers would see a grieving boyfriend, crying for his lover and friend. It was not far from the truth, but nothing they thought would come close to what had really happened to the unhappy dead.

If only they knew the truth.

fin.

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

[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.

[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.

[dragon-kazansky]

Double Trouble

Iceman x Dragon & Slider x Whiskey

@mrsjaderogers 💕

Slider and Ice agree to take their girls on a double date for a fun night out. However, the night takes a turn when someone from Whiskey's past shows up.

Warnings: Stephen is the lowest of low in the human race. He says some nasty shit. WHISKEY IS A GODDESS AND I LOVE HER VERY MUCH!!!

♡♡♡

From the moment they decided a double date was in order, Rachael and Jade had been super excited. They even went shopping the day before for their clothes together. Ice and Slider just chuckled at the pair as they went out.

Ron and Jade agreed to meet Rachael and Tom at their place so they could all go together to the restaurant.

Ice drove them all to the restaurant. Dragon in the passenger seat holding his hand as he drove, and the other two in the back getting cosy with one another. It was nice to spend this time together.

They arrive at the restaurant and are shown to their table. Dragon and Whiskey spent a good amount if time catching up on things. Ice orders drinks for the table to begin with.

The girls sit next to each other, opposite their dear husbands. As the wine is poured, the girls keep on chatting. They're laughing and bringing up old memories and all the crazy shit they've often found themselves in.

Tom shares a look with Ron. "If I didn't know any better, I would say they were dating each other."

Ron chuckles.

"Damn right. You're just here to pay the bill so me and Whiskey can have a nice time," Dragon giggles.

"Ah, it all make sense now. You married me for the money," Ice teases.

"I mean, who else is going to spoil me and Jade whenever we want," Dragon winks at him.

"I spoil her!" Ron chimes in.

"I bet you do," Rachael grins before sipping her wine. Jade chokes on her drink from beside Rachael and bursts into laughter.

The waiter returns to take their orders. They had hardly looked at the menu, so each of them quickly look over the choices. All the while Rachael and Jade continue to giggle like teenagers.

Tom orders for him and Rachael, knowing full well she isn't picking anything any time soon. Ron decides to do the same for Jade, knowing her favourite meals by heart.

The waiter leaves.

The two girls burst into laughter again.

"Why are they laughing?" Tom asks.

"I think it's just a thing they do. They look at each other and laugh."

"Maybe they're telepathic?" Ice suggests.

"I don't have to be telepathic to know what's on your mind," Jade says, looking at her man.

Rachael laughs into her wine glass.

"We can't take you two any where," Tom laughs.

"Shh, you love us for it."

They continue to tease each other while they wait for their food. Just as the girls finish their second glass of wine, having not stopped laughing the entire time, the food arrives.

Four delicious looking meals are settled on the table and they all dig in. The girls laugh a lot less while eating, but conversation still flows.

It's nice. Spending this time together as a group. They go put often together, but this felt a lot more intimate. Going out for drinks at the bar is one thing, but sharing a meal and talking about all their favourite memories, that's something else.

As they finish dinner, topping up their drinks again, though Ice is on ice water now because he's driving back, Rachael suggests dessert. Jade waves over the waiter and asks for their dessert menu.

"I don't think I can eat anything else," Ron says, leaning back in his chair a bit.

Rachael sticks her tongue out at him. "Well, I fancy something sweet."

"I fancy you," Tom says, without hesitation.

Jade giggles as she sips her wine and turns her head to Rachael. "Should we give you two some space?"

Rachael smiles as she leans into Jade's side. "They should be giving us space, no way am I leaving my wifey!"

The two burst into another fit of giggles.

The waiter drops off the dessert menus for the ladies and leaves again. The two open the menus and go over their options, trying to decide if they want the same thing, or if they want to go 50/50 on two desserts.

Just as Jade thinks she had decided on one, a voice near by catches her attention. It's a familiar voice she hadn't heard in years. Just like that, she goes cold. Rachael notices her shiver and looks up at her best friend.

"You alright?" She asks, keeping her voice quiet.

Jade turns her eyes to the table near by. Standing behind one of the chairs was a man she hadn't seen in ages.

Stephen.

Rachael follows her gaze and sees the man.

"Someone you know?" Rachael asks. Her questions has both men across the the table looking up at where Jade is looking too. Ron feels himself tense up.

"That asshole!"

Ron is about ready to get up out of his chair, but Jade is quick to reach over and stop him. She grabs his wrist gently and looks at him with pleading eyes.

"Don't."

"Can I ask?" Dragon looks between the couple.

"That's Stephen. My ex," Jade says, turning her eyes to the table. She picks up her wine glass again. "He doesn't know I'm here, let's just eat dessert and go."

Rachael closes her menu and watches Jade for a moment. She glances at Ron who is glaring over at the man at the other table. Rachael then glances at Tom who is looking at Jade with concern.

"Jade?"

Whiskey freezes and Ron's band curls into a fist on the table. Tom looks up at the man who was early upsetting his dear friend. Rachael reaches over under the table and takes Jade's hand in hers.

"It is you!" Stephen stands over their table with a huge shit eating grin on his face. Rachael hates it. "You haven't changed at all."

The way he says that makes Rachael's toes curl.

"Who are your friends?" Stephen looks at each of them.

"I'm Ron, her husband." Slider says. He had never met Stephen, but he knew all he needed to know about that man to know he hated him with a passion.

"Husband?" Stephen laughs. "Well, if you're into that..."

Ron glares at him. "What does that mean?"

Stephen doesn't reply. He turns his eyes to Rachael. She hates the way he looks at her. Rachael squeezes Jade's hand a little tighter.

"And you are?" He asks her.

"A boss ass bitch," Dragon sips her wine with her free hand.

"Ha. Okay..."

Stephen turns back to Jade. "You must at least be making a lot of many if these are your friends. At least you have that going for you."

Tom stands up immediately and stares him down. "I think you should go."

"What? I'm just catching up with an old friend."

"Old friend? I'd hardly call it that," Tom states. "You're making my friend uncomfortable."

Stephen continues to grin at Tom.

"You mustn't know many people if she's your friend."

It takes everything in Tom not to punch this prick in the face. He didn't want to make a public scene, but Stephen's loud voice seems to have done that already.

Stephen turns to Ron.

"I hope you have a good lawyer, you can't possibly be with her because she's any good in bed. I'd drop her soon as you can if I were you. Trust me, no one wants her weighing them down from life."

Rachael barely blinks before Ron is up on his feet and grabbing the man by his shirt. He holds the man up close to his face.

"Say one more thing about my wife. Go on."

Stephen begins to laugh.

Rachael turns to Jade and finds her darling friend crying quietly. Rachael wraps her arms around Jade and pulls her into her side. Jade leans against Rachael without a word.

"Oh, the waterworks. I don't miss that."

Rachael clenched her jaw.

"That's it." Tom looks at Ron and they both grab one of Stephen's arms each. They begin to drag him out of the restaurant.

Rachael let's go of Jade to pull out some money. She leaves it on the table and then takes Jade's hand. Jade follows Rachael put of the restaurant.

Tom and Ron push Stephen out into the street. They stand tall and firm as Stephen straightened out his clothes from being man handled.

"Was that really necessary?" Stephen asks.

"NO ONE talks about my wife like that," Ron glares at him.

"Oh come on, you can't possibly see anything in her. I can see it clearly. You're just like me. Dating her out of pity."

Ron goes to charge at him, but Tom stops him.

Rachael and Jade exit the restaurant and sees the boys standing in the street. Rachael sees Tom holding Ron back. Jade holds her hand tighter and Rachael gives her friend a comforting smile.

"You're going to be okay, Jade. Don't listen to that bastard. He doesn't know the Jade we know."

Jade smiles at Rachael.

"He was the worst part of my life," Jade confesses. Rachael places her hands on Jade's face and smiles at her softly.

"Then we must be pretty fucking good."

Jade chuckles. "Damn right you are."

"I better step in before Ron does something. Your husband would start a war for you if he could."

Jade smiles. She feels all light and warm.

"I know. I know he would. I love him for it."

Dragon winks at Whiskey and takes her a little closer to the group.

"Come on, you two. Party's over."

Ron turns and looks at Jade. He walks over to her and takes her into his arms. Rachael can see the way he looks at his wife and she smiles. That man is hopelessly in love with her and nothing is ever going to change that.

"Disgusting. Jade, he doesn't love you. He married you out of pity. He felt sorry for you. Just like I did. You have nothing to offer and you know there are far more beautiful girls put there than you. They have value. You don't. You have fallen for another lie. I feel sorry for you. I do. You're better off alone, Jade. No one wants you around-"

Before Stephen could do any more damage with his words, Rachael stormed up to him and gave him a good hard kick to the balls. Stephen instantly falls to his knees, hands over his crotch. Rachael stands over him.

"You say ONE more disgusting comment about my badass beauty and I'll break your fucking teeth. Jade is the most hilarious and wonderful soul, but you're too much of a bastard to see that. She's absolutely gorgeous, you fucker. Like, movie star level gorgeous. You're a rat who thinks he looks better when other people, but I can see you for you really are. You say one more thing about my Whiskey and you'll be seeing through two black eyes. You wouldn't know beauty if it hit you in the face. Maybe you'll recognize my fucking fist though."

Tom has to step forward and drag his wife back. As proud of her as he is, there is no way he was having her beat the shit out of this guy.

Rachael glares at Stephen as he remains crouched on the road.

"That's enough, sweetheart."

Rachael looks up at Tom and her expression turns softer.

"I'm sorry, but no one talks about Jade like that and gets away with it."

"I know, darlin', I know."

Tom gives Rachael a hug before she turns to check on her friend. Jade is smiling at her. As soon as Rachael frees herself from Tom's embrace, she runs over to Jade. They hug each other tightly.

"I love you so much!" Rachael tells her.

"I love you too!"

The girls stay like that for a while before they link arms and start walking back to the car. Ice and Slider follow them, leaving the asshole behind.

Ice takes everyone back to their house. Dragon makes Jade a drink in the kitchen.

"Stay the night."

Jade smiles at Rachael. "Okay."

They grab their glasses and head back into the living room.

"You two stay the night. Head back in the morning. It's been Hell of a night."

Tom agrees.

"Ron, you'll be alright on the couch right?"

"You don't have a guest room?"

"Yeah, but it's not done up or anything. Our couches are comfy! Right Tom?"

"Yeah."

Slider looks at Ice. "She make you sleep downstairs often?"

"Never. Tom comes to bed with me every night," Rachael winks. "But we have both definitely fallen asleep down here before. You'll be alright. Tom will bring you both blankets."

"Me?" Tom asks.

"Duh! Whiskey is sharing our bed with me. I'll change the bedding so she doesn't have to smell your aftershave on our sheets," Rachael laughs.

Jade giggled and the girls head upstairs.

Ron and Tom stand there in the living room alone.

"My wife just went up to bed with your wife," Ron says.

"Yep."

"And we're banished to the living room?"

"Yep."

Ron shrugs and picks a couch. "Go get us blankets then, Mr Ice Cold."

"Shut up, Ron."

The two laugh.

Even though the double date was ruined by an asshole, the Kerner's would always be able to rely on the Kazansky's to save the day. There was NOTHING Rachael wouldn't do for Jade if she ever needed her.

[brookylnbabyyy]

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]

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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!