#but I lost the novel I was in the middle of and am not feeling so motivating with out books. It's a proper reading slump! I need a kickstar

[mymoshangthoughts]

something i think about with regards to og!shang qinghua

i totally think he smashed mobei jun's face in with the rock

like okay the scene plays out basically the same, except instead of thigh-hugging, the original goods was groveling and hiding and dodging and only BARELY managed to survive for long enough for mobei jun to faint

so here he is, surrounded by corpses and a fainted demon and theres this big ass rock over there and he's like "yeah, thats the pragmatic thing to do"

but see, airplane and the original goods both vastly over-estimated the ability of a rock to kill a demon lord. so yeah, mobei jun has a nasty broken nose and he wakes up feeling like death warmed over in the middle of the woods but he's alive (this is btw the exact reason that the system was willing to let airplane do it, bc it wasnt gonna kill mobei jun anyway and it was what the og goods did)

and he was JUST conscious enough to see the original goods bash his face in

so mobei jun is sitting there like "okay, yeah, so imma find that fucker and imma enslave him and then when he runs out of use to me, imma kill his ass" because he's angry enough right now that simply killing og!shang qinghua just does Not feel good enough

and their relationship over the years is basically a big game of cat and mouse with them trying to fuck each other over. mostly the original goods trying to kill mobei jun and mobei jun just like "no imma wait to kill him until AFTER ive had a thorough revenge but fuck he makes it tempting to kill him right now" and og!shang qinghua highkey actually reminds him of his uncle. they're both the two-faced type who can smile to your face and stab you in the back and he's sorta thinking "if i cant resist killing one stupid human until the opportune time, how am i going to not kill my uncle??"

and basically it's just like..... lowkey shizaya (drrr!) vibes between them? and look, mobei jun is Very satisfied when he finally kills that worm og!shang qinghua but he also feels a certain loss because even though theres srsly no love lost between them, the original goods was basically mobei jun's companion for longer than anyone else in his life (enemy? frenemy? rival????) and it's just a sort of weird empty feeling after he's dead

and i just like thinking about how Different their relationship was because i like thinking about all of the changes that airplane accidentally created because he really didnt know that much about their original relationship. og!shang qinghua was such a footnote in the novel that there really wasnt any time spent on "oh yeah, og!moshang has a super weird hateship and shang qinghua did backstab mobei jun but that wasnt actually NEW, og!shang qinghua tried to kill off the king of the north at least once a month or so"

anyway i think the distinctions in the relationships are important for moshang reasons, because airplane and og!shang qinghua ARE different people, so they had to have made different decisions over the years, and those differences are why mobei jun was very much in love with airplane and not in love with og!shang qinghua

(altho i do enjoy og!moshang, but i will die on the hill that their relationship is different and whatever love might exist between them would be different. my hcs might not represent accurately how og!moshang's relationship was canonically but i just think it's important to make those distinctions)

but all these thoughts lend themselves to "what if pidw!mobei jun met airplane!shang qinghua?" because look, if they really were collaborating for so many years, he would KNOW og!shang qinghua. and as such, it wouldnt take him long to be like "okay but you're seriously NOT shang qinghua tho?!?!" and i love his confusion. like i dont think he'd show up and be like "guh, shang qinghua, gotta kill that rat again", i think he'd show up and be like "......well thats definitely shang qinghua's skin but that sure as fuck isnt shang qinghua"

and look, i want the chaos of that.

pidw!mobei jun and svsss!mobei jun discussing why the fuck shang qinghua is a completely different person and coming to their own conclusions (also naturally realizing a thing or two about cucumber-bro bc thats the other big notable change between worlds. bing-mei is fine, pidw!mobei jun always know that bing-ge is secretly pathetic)

also potential for kidnapping? like pidw!mobei jun nabs airplane with the intention of learning just who the fuck he is. leaving absolutely no room for discussion bc he's determined to figure this shit out. or maybe he just approaches his other self directly. or fuck it, if he goes straight to bing-mei because he's like "okay this is above my pay grade, boss of this dimension will prolly have an idea of whats happening"

also double penetration with two mobei jun's and one airplane lmfao. look im a simple man with simple pleasures

altho on the note of og!shang qinghua, thinking about this diabolical fuck does have my inner villain fucker thoroughly entertained and i wanna think about au's with both airplane and og!shang qinghua in play

there's always the good ol' sibling au's (which will always make me scream to the fucking sky "why the fuck wasnt airplane given a NAME so that i dont have to make one up for him!!!"), those definitely have the appeal of i can keep airplane!shang qinghua's design the same

so lets go with.... shang jingqi (original flavor) and shang feiyu (airplane), for simplicities sake while i explore stupid au ideas lol

so lesseee shang feiyu is born as shang jingqi's twin but since qinghua is a courtesy name and he doesnt actually know og!shang qinghua's birth name, he just knows that ONE of them is supposed to become "shang qinghua" and get killed by mobei jun. and look, he tries really hard not to get attached to his twin. he's used to keeping emotional distance from family, this should be fine, easy even. his twin even has a sort of asshole personality. so if he just doesnt get attached to shang jingqi and just lets the og plot eat up his twin, everything will be just fine and he can live a peaceful life, right? RIGHT???

but ofc he gets attached. bc even tho shang jingqi has a shitty personality and might actually be the original shang qinghua who backstabbed mobei jun and deserved what he got--look, thats HIS treacherous asshole and shang feiyu is ATTACHED okay

so shang jingqi and shang feiyu BOTH wind up joining cang qiong because shang feiyu isn't gonna just leave his twin to die but also he doesnt wanna die so he's really trying to figure out a third option to figure out how the fuck to dodge this all shang-murderfest thing when one day his brother comes home from a mission like "so i might have murdered a demon lord with a rock??" and shang feiyu is going to FREAK OUT bc either that was mobei jun and he is Not Dead and Coming For Their Asses or it WASNT mobei jun and its someone who would make mobei jun Very Angry if was harmed and shang feiyu is ready to hug as many thighs as he needs to so that they can get out of this alive!!! but shang jingqi already has a bit of a murder-boner for mobei jun, even moreso when he realizes theres like Chemistry between mobei jun and his brother and just Nope. that aint happening.

shang feiyu: i am trying to keep you alive wiLL YOU PLZ STOP TRYING TO PISS OFF THE DEMON LORD?!

shang jingqi: and IM trying to protect your ass from demon cock, thank me later

shang feiyu: ?!?!?! WHAT DOES THAT WHAT

[calisources]

𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences here are taken from different medias about exes with complicated feelings, exes that are still lovers, jealousy, complicated feelings and the game of chase and catch. You can change names, pronouns, locations and more as you see fit. Some of these are suggestive and others are a little foul, so beware.

Every time I thought to, I wrote about you.

Actually, I hadn’t thought of her for a long time.

Are you waiting for your lover? Do you know that's the only reason anyone comes to a place like this in the middle of the night?

Is that why you're here?

You can go pick another spot. I found this one first.

If you hadn't stolen my bride away in the night, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.

What do you want? An apology? For me to crawl back into your bed and play nice, little wife?

Why should I want spoiled goods returned to me?

You're gone and you left me. My heart has dissipated. The only thing I can feel is the blood rushing through my veins and the strings that hold my fragile heart together.

When you truly love someone, it doesn't go away.

I don't want to forget what we had.

Everything is moving so fast. Before long everyone we know will be scattered across the country, the world even. 

Have I lost you love?

Why would she wear a dress like that? Is she doing it just to torture me?

You need to change clothes now. Everyone is looking at you.

You don’t control what I wear or who I wear it to.

For someone who looks after hearts, you can be careless. You know you broke mine, don't you?

You can't hold on to things just because of the memories.

Yes, I made the mistake of falling in love with a man without any feelings.

You're with him?

You’ve always enjoyed people fighting for you.

The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

I will never blame Barry for falling in love with you but I will blame him for considering himself eligible.

Don’t torture me any more, I can’t stand it.

Whatever there is between you two I don’t want to know about it.

Just shut up. I need to not to think and you need to think less. We need this.

He is in love with you. I read the fucking letters.

Where the hell have you been?

I don’t need your permission.

Oh, but I do care and you do need my permission. You’ve become very forgetful, my sweet—I’m your husband, remember? Take off your clothes.

I’m jealous, and I find the feeling not only novel, but singularly unpleasant.

Do you love her?

You pushed me away.

Do you want me then, to deceive and entrap you?

It often gives a lady a pleasure to giver her lover a pang.

You're jealous because I actually go after what I want, and I get it.

I'm afraid my jealousy is a beast I find difficult to tame.

I’m not obsessed with her.

It is possible to care about a woman without wanting to bed her.

If girls could spit venom, it'd be through their eyes.

She's a fucking rat trying to humiliate a queen...She's nothing.

That's none of your concern.

I'd like to know who's been giving rings to my council.

But just out of curiosity, how do you feel about getting my name tattooed on your forehead?

You don’t need to worry about Reece.

You are doing all of this on purpose. To get a rise out of me.

Perhaps it bothers you that I am not longer yours to keep and play with.

I chose not to follow your advice. Ned is a very nice person. Handsome, personable—a perfect escort.

Fuckin' my man in my bed. You got some goddamn nerve, girl.

I know you'd react negatively if I approached a make. You're... possessive.

Sugar, I'm way past possessive.

You like jealousy. You like knowing people want you.

I don't get jealous, I get even.

I am not yours. I stopped being yours, you have no right to keep me away from others.

It has been years since you seen me and you still behave like this.

She is my girlfriend, I can do whatever I want to her. 

You know my heart, It’s yours. But I’m done.

I want you to be in my arms again. I don’t think I can live without you.

Every day is hard and the nights are so cold without you here. 

Don’t look away. Look me in the eyes and tell me you no longer feel anything for me. That you don’t think of me. 

This is the reason I need to go away. I can’t be around someone I can never have. 

I am over you, but my heart is still under the spell of the relationship that was. I miss you.

You’re still my person, even if I’m not yours.

I have seen you give him looks and smiles this very night, such as you never give to—me.

I don’t mind you think of someone else, soon I will be the only one in your mind.

Do not worry, I will make you forget everything and everyone. 

This is your punishment, for your little trick tonight. 

You have to stop doing this. Bring me to your bed, making me want you. 

Does it bother you, the thought I will be wed soon? That a man will share my bed every night?

[p-h-a-n-t-a]

Nimona was the first piece of media i found after realizing i was nonbinary that spoke to me, i read the webcomic every wedsneday in my history class in 7th grade. Middle school was hard for me because i was one of two kids in my whole grade that was out as some form of queer (pan, i didnt come out as nb until high school) and i lost a lot of friends from it. But also from just being "weird." I tried to come out to my dad at one point and heard nearly the same line balister says to nimona in the new movie "wouldnt it be easier to be a girl?"

I am now 21, working in a library where i see kids gravitate more and more towards graphic novels and we have the nimona graphic novel on our shelves, and i have waited so long to watch the movie, that when i finally watched it, i could not believe it was not just speaking to me, but screaming to me. Im a nonbinary individual that loves men in a queer way, and yet has been a weird little girl outcast for things other people did not understand. I have seen grown adults attack children online for not being straight or cis, and seen them say it is under the guise of protecting their kids. In the time between now and reading the webcomic in my history class, i have felt so many different ways about my identity and my existence, and holy shit does the nimona movie speak to me. In almost every stage of my life.

N D Stevenson, and all the people who made this movie survive and be possible, you were able to reach into the core of my being and make me feel just as seen as i first did when i laughed about shark boobs in a middle school computer lab. Thank you so much!!

[sgiandubh]

PSA: An Appalachian cry for help

Rather unusually, I have received this poignant message yesterday, in the middle of the European night, and I am now honoring it, with @novel-dreams' permission to share part of our DM convo:

@novel-dreams also provided this dramatic on-the-spot feedback:

[Click here for a more complete reblog, photos included: https://www.tumblr.com/the-elder-polls/762929863960166400/to-those-of-you-reblogging-this-thank-you-i-have?source=share]

And S himself shared the American Red Cross' appeal on behalf of the victims of hurricane Helene in North Carolina and Tennessee:

So, if you want to help and I strongly suggest you do so, even symbolically, as even dimes can make a difference to those left with absolutely nothing, here are a couple of other links for vetted local NGOs:

Most of these, such as Operation Airdrop or Manna Food Bank, may not take overseas donations and this makes me feel somewhat helpless, but all I am asking you, really, is at least to help spread this message, if you are unable/unwilling to pitch in.

In the meanwhile, we are ploughing through our own dressings, Shipper Mom and I, because we also had devastating floods in my own country and there are thousands who lost absolutely everything.

Let this be a reminder climate change is no joke.

[Later edit]: @txgenelady added this extra resource:

And I am adding The American Red Cross' dedicated link: https://www.redcross.org/donate/dr/hurricane-helene.html/

This post will remain open and might be regularly updated if you have any other idea or resource.

[Later edit 2]: Adding in the link for the North Carolina Disaster Relief Fund (thank you, @poughkeepsielass!): https://pay.payitgov.com/ncdonations (I have donated a very small amount here, from the 💖, the RC won't take my money), along with World Central Kitchen (thank you, @sarcastic-poll!): https://donate.wck.org/give/622465/?_gl=1qcys45_gcl_auMTQzNDU4MTEwMi4xNzI3ODA1MTkz_gaMTEwMjkzMjY4Ni4xNzI3ODA1MTkz_ga_5WKVY8503C*MTcyNzgwNTE5My4xLjEuMTcyNzgwNTIxNy4zNi4wLjA.#!/donation/checkout

[Later edit 3]: added The Cajun Navy Relief (https://www.cajunnavyrelief.com/)

[fakerbreaker]

Playing with minds is fun, but I could squeeze this orange even more by playing with hearts too. And you know who'd be the perfect candidate? Some confused little "aromantic" airhead.

I'm a beautiful, smart irresistible catch, but it's not your fault you can't see that. Maybe you just closed your heart off, had a few bad experiences. It's okay! You just haven't found the right femboy yet! But here I am UwU! I just know you can learn to open your heart over time.

To support you in that journey, I'll be expecting weekly love letters. I know it'll feel totally alien at first, but I promise we'll be able to look back and see the progression. I'll have a little shuffling around of your music habits only the sappiest, sickliest will do. Books, films, maybe some visual novels, what matters is filling up your cute head with love, love, love. Sooner or later you'll start to see things like the rest of us. Of course, if you don't like playing ball, I will be forced to punish you. It'll hurt me more than it hurts you, it's for your own good, we always hurt the ones we love. On the other hand, of course, you're welcome to exceed my expectations for some nice rewards. Dopamine and oxytocin spike are what happen when we fall in love, and I know the nice treats will help you get there. Do you like chocolate, babe~?

It'll be confusing for a while, but before you know it, you'll be mine, baby. Bending you to my will is gonna be nothing once you're in too deep. I don't just want you in love, I want you fucking limerent~! Literally need me to feel whole, obsess and swoon over me. Feel nice and empty when I'm not there. You'll be like a cute little pet, really. So, so happy every time you see me. Can't help showering me in affection and craving mine, feeling completely lost without me. Why wear a silly little white ring on your middle finger when you can wear a nice gold one to symbolise your undying love for me on your ring finger? That is why they call it the ring finger, after all~!

Don't worry your pretty little head, I'd never just suddenly up and leave one day, leaving you absolutely hollow inside. Crush your lovesick heart under my pretty pink platform boots, shatter it into a million tiny pieces, I'd never be mean!

But my my, wouldn't that just be so cruel~?

[junkdrawerfics]

First Meeting

Jasper Hale X Reader

Series of Firsts

Summary: The first time you meet Jasper Hale is when you get lost in the woods. Is he your rescuer or the danger you should be looking out for, though?

Words: 1712

Note: New series wooh! Hope you guys enjoy!

---

Moving to Forks in the middle of summer had its pros and cons.

Pro: You have plenty of time to explore and get to know the area.

Pro: You can adjust to the new home before school starts.

Con: You haven’t been able to meet many people your age and therefore have no friends yet.

Con: You thought it would be nice to take a walk by the woods, but you swear you saw a hurt cat and you tried to help it but it ran away and you followed it and now you’re lost.

The last point may not have anything to do with it being summer, but still.

On the bright side, you did catch the little guy! Not without a few scratches, but you got him.

You perch yourself on a tree stump, a small tabby kitten nestled in your arms, completely tuckered out from running. Careful to not jostle him,  you give him a good once over. It looks like he was maybe clipped by a car, or maybe a bike, dried blood running down one of his legs which looks significantly out of place. 

Poor thing.

Sighing softly, you tuck him back into your lap and glance around. The trees all look the same, and you have no clue what direction you came from. There’s no way to tell what time it is either, since you left your phone at home and the sun is completely blocked out by the clouds. Not the best situation.

At least it’s still light out, you think to yourself. It could be a lot worse. For now, it’s light, you’re warm, and you told your mom you were going out before you did, so she should notice when you don’t come back in a few hours.

If you don’t make it back yourself, that is!

“I don’t suppose you know the way out?” You hum, scratching the small kitten’s head as he raises his head at the sound of your voice. He looks at you with dark amber eyes, barely open.

“Mew.”

“Hm, I thought so.” You shake your head with a fond smile. “That’s okay. Maybe if I just start walking, I’ll find someone.”

The kitten grumbles a little when you pop to your feet. Might as well go with your gut, right? That’s what people usually do in situations like this. So, you go to set off in the directions you think you came from. Hopefully. 

Until you hear a loud snap come from behind you.

Every muscle in your body goes still. The ball of fur in your arms bristles, suddenly far more alert, letting out a quiet, squeaking hiss. It makes your chest tighten, a spark of fear and realization traveling through your bones.

Are there predators in these woods?

“You’ll hit the coast before you find a soul if you go that way.”

The sound of a low, rumbling voice immediately puts you at ease, the tension dripping from your shoulders. Thank the heavens you don’t have to wander even deeper into the woods. There’s no telling how much more lost you could get. You turn to thank your savior, eyes going wide when they land on him.

Pretty. That’s your first thought.

He’s very pretty. For a moment, you could even convince yourself you are just looking at a sculpture abandoned in the woods. He’s tall, very tall, gold hair falling to his sharp jaw, skin shockingly pale in the dim light. His eyes, dark and narrowed, glint with curiosity and maybe a hint of concern as he looks you over.

Heat flares across your cheeks. This feels straight out of some teen romance novel. A handsome stranger comes to the rescue of the damsel in distress. Except, while he is a handsome stranger, you are dressed in an oversized, pastel hoodie with cat scratches all over your face and hands. Not to mention the mangy kitten in your arms who looks like he wants to kill the man.

What a sight this must be for him.

You offer your rescuer a wide, somewhat awkward smile, “Thanks for telling me. I definitely have no clue where I am, if you can’t tell.”

The man tilts his head, brows furrowing, “How’d you end up all the way out here?”

“Well-” You shrug, shifting back and forth on your feet. “-it was just supposed to be a walk, but then I saw this little guy and he looked like he needed help.”

His eyes dart down to the small kitten in your arms, lips twitching in amusement. The fluff ball glares back at him without hesitation. You shuffle him in your arms a little, trying to get him to calm down, but he stubbornly clings to your sleeve so he can see the blond.

“I chased him out here,” you continue, settling for just clutching him against your chest, just in case he tries to be rude. “His leg looks pretty bad and I just couldn’t leave him, you know? I’m pretty sure he needs a vet, but I don’t know how to get back to town. Could you maybe um…”

You trail off. You shouldn’t hesitate to ask for help, you know it’s silly, but you don’t want to bother this guy. What if he was on his way somewhere? Maybe he could just point you in the right direction. But what if it gets dark before you get home? The thought of walking through the woods at night is not one you’d like to live through.

After a hard second of him looking at you, as if trying to figure out whether you’re a threat or not - which feels kind of backwards if you’re being honest - the man seems to soften. His posture loosens and a small, charming smile slants his lips. 

Your heart stutters.

In a very old-school, gentlemanly way, he offers you his hand, “It’d be a privilege to escort you back, miss-?”

You stare at his extended hand, completely oblivious to his question until you glance up and see him watching you expectantly, lips pursed, dark eyes dancing with amusement. 

Oh!

“(Y/n),” you blurt quickly, face going impossibly redder. “My name’s (Y/n) (L/n)! I just moved here.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/n).” The smile comes back, wider, brighter, and you want to melt. “Name’s Jasper Hale, I’ve lived here quite some time.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, too, Jasper Hale,” you chime, finally taking his hand (much to the kitten’s displeasure). “Especially now. I would've been wandering out here for a long time if you hadn’t showed up. Who knows what’s out here.”

Something flashes through Jasper’s eyes, but he merely smiles and agrees, “You can never be too careful.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” you sigh, following him as he starts in the opposite direction you were going to go, “It’s my fault for thinking I didn’t need my phone. It’s just my luck to not have it the one time I need it.”

“Bad luck finds you at the worst times,” he hums wistfully.

“This is your fault,” you whisper down at the kitten, who has settled down a little bit, “You’re not even black, how are you so unlucky?”

He blinks up at you, looking unimpressed. You laugh, scratching his chest softly.

“I think he’s mocking me,” you murmur, “He probably doesn’t even need my help based on the fight he put up.”

“He just doesn’t know what’s good for him,” Jasper chuckles, something fond starting to grow in his chest.

He had been hunting when the scent of fresh blood had drawn him further into the woods. He didn’t even remember moving, hunting it down, nothing until he came to a dead stop there at the edge of the small clearing. That’s where he found you, watched as you slowly, patiently coaxed the angry kitten into your arms.

He doesn’t know what made him stop. What overcame the burning thirst in his throat. But when he laid eyes on you, listened to you talk to the kitten as if it would talk back, felt the gentle positivity coming off of you like pure warmth, it just disappeared.

Replaced with a burning curiosity and something fiercely protective.

Who was this girl he’d never seen before? Why was she all the way out in the woods, at least thirty minutes from the town? Alone? What if something happened to her?

The moment you started walking in the wrong direction, he couldn’t stop himself. Against his better judgment, of course. He couldn’t just let you wander off alone, though. The others will probably be angry with him once he gets back, but at least he can make sure you get home safely.

Which he does.

You stop at the edge of your yard, turning to him with the softest, most genuine smile, brimming with gratitude.

“Thank you, Jasper. Really. I hope this isn’t the last time we meet?” Your eyes glow with so much hope, and he can’t bring himself to deny it.

He should. He should stay far away from you, because something tells him that as much as this new feeling in his chest could be something good, it could also be something horribly dangerous. For you. He should stop it here and now, cut all ties.

But he saw how well that worked for Edward.

So he nods, dares to lift your hand to his lips and press a ghost of a kiss to your knuckles. Jasper can feel your life under his fingers, hear your pulse race, and he expects the thirst to come roaring back, to feel some kind of temptation, but the only thing he feels is your overflowing, bashful joy. And he loves it.

“Until next time, miss (L/n),” he murmurs, and you giggle, “Try not to run after any more injured animals, alright?”

“I’ll try,” you promise, feeling high as a kite.

“Good.” Jasper grins.

He watches you go inside, just to be safe, making eye contact one last time with the furry, little creature still in your arms, right before the door falls shut. It glares at him, tiny tail thrashing.

Unlucky, you said.

Maybe.

You’ll both have to wait and see.

---

Next

I'm pretty excited about this new little series! It'll be super simple, just a series about different "firsts" you have with Jasper, ie first kiss, first date, etc. If you want anything specific, let me know!

Also, I know it might be a little unrealistic, but I don't care! That's not what this is about lol

[empty-movement]

sorry but please... post your akio plastic covered couch tweet here... the world needs to know...

Warning: pics of gross shit happening on the couches

I'll do you one better and include the STORY! So, I, Vanna (note: Yasha mostly does the Tumblr and I mostly do the Twitter,) was smoking enough weed to knock out a large horse or put a very tiny dent in my constant back and shoulder pain, as one does when when they're a middle-aged Registered Nurse in the year 2023. (I'm 39 but it's an old 39, lmao.)

Scrolling through Twitter, I stumble on a fanart of Suletta from Witch of Mercury sitting goofily on a white couch. Now I haven't seen this show yet, but the white couch....looked familiar, and I know the show is very much a descendent of Utena in terms of creative teams. For those that don't know, the series is written by Ichirō Ōkouchi, who also wrote the two Revolutionary Girl Utena novelizations...which if you didn't know about before, you know about now, and can read translated on our site here! (Warning: Touga and Miki uh, in the novels...)

Anyways, so I hop onto my own website and start downloading the images that will constitute receipts, before realizing 1. these images are all on multiple computers feet away from me, 2. the couch isn't an identical match, 3. that'd have been weird anyway, and most importantly, 4:

AKIO'S COUCHES DON'T LOOK RIGHT. OBSERVE:

The edges of the armrests have sloppier upholstery than the blanket I have covering my computer desk. I took the time to tuck seams at least. What is this??

Now it could absolutely be leather, I thought. It would absolutely track. But leather upholstery doesn't look like this. It doesn't wrinkle quite this way. It would have cleaner seams.

No. No that's too shiny for leather. So here I am, presented with this strangeness I'd never really considered in how Akio's couch is drawn, and having spent the last few months learning about my Italian-American family history, my chemically altered ass came to the only reasonable conclusion:

Akio Ohtori has plastic coverings on his white couches, like he's a depression era American in poverty.

Fuck yeah, I though, A HIT TWEET, there, at the end of all Tweeting things. (Yeah I'm working on that, stay tuned, lmao. I of all people know when to bail on stupid men with stupid power.) Because I am me, I framed it as semi serious by pulling a context to explain it out of my ass:

I was joking.

But the replies? They were not. And then I thought about it some more. And I've kept thinking about it. Do I seriously think Ikuhara and Co literally are intentionally drawing a plastic covered couch? Doesn't that feel, Vanna, like a bit of a stretch, even for Utena meta?

Listen to that CRONCH when Akio sits down in episode 31, before Anthy is seen by Nanami. Look, the buttons on the back rest don't quite fit, but the rest? Yeah it kinda does. I was high, but not wrong!?

Akio *does* surround himself with a bizarre hodgepodge of Americana as an aesthetic. The arm garters. The piping and cut of his cowboy-ass shirt. His American car. His mullet. His miniature fucking golf. Why not the plastic covered couch? It's a trope of American poverty that would absolutely have fallen neatly into the diet of American pop culture that influenced Ikuhara. (He makes references to E.T. and The Godfather and Suspiria and all kinds of things in his other work, Utena itself is a little less obvious with individual references but inherits HUGE amounts of vibes from the same content--Ikuhara and Co watched Lost Highway in theaters during the production of the Akio Arc and I will not be convinced otherwise.)

So yeah. That's the story, and that's the theory. Do I seriously believe it was deliberate? Maybe. Probably. Possibly. But it fits so well it's headcanon for me, and in the Utena fandom, pretty much all canon is kind of headcanon so enjoy this one.

What an asshole.

[whoistartaglia]

sweet talk

based on sweet talk by saint motel.

alhaitham x gn! reader

alhaitham is not one to pull his punches, not even with you.

presently, you lounge in alhaitham’s office, seated incorrectly, with your legs over the arms of the chair and back against the other side, in front of alhaitham’s desk. the scholar watches as you flip nonsensically through a scriba, your eyes barely skimming the page, before you toss it on the desk. it lands in the middle of a hurricane of documents and open books, and nearly topples over an inkwell.

“can i assume this book too has lost your interest?” alhaitham says, picking it up himself. he fights the urge to roll his eyes. a romance novel, of course. when you first came marching in his office, ignoring the plaque on his door of “leave me alone” (though in much more “professional” language), you claimed the novel was a dissertation, and that you needed a nice, quiet place to work. the library, you claimed, was too packed with students studying for finals and working on their own reseatch papers. alhaitham allowed you to begrudgingly take residence in his office. yet flipping through the novel know, alhaitham realizes he should have known better.

“naturally,” you reply, hopping off the chair. “i’m so bored and there’s nothing to do.”

“what about your research?”

you make a face like you bit into a lemon.

“i would rather read that entire book to you upside-down and backwards.”

now it’s alhaitham’s turn to make a face. his is bitter like he downed a black coffee, no sugar, no milk, except that you know better; alhaitham probably has those on the daily and enjoys them.

alhaitham pretends to think, then snaps his fingers when the idea comes to him.

“you could always leave,” he says, quite pleased with himself.

you roll your eyes. “ha-ha. very funny.”

“i wasn’t joking,” alhaitham replies, tossing your novel to the corner of his desk. “you are always welcome to go, [name]. right now especially. i’ll even walk you to the door.”

this has the opposite of alhaitham’s intended effect. what he wanted was your sour expression to deepen, lips puckering and brows furrowing, not the absolutely sweet and beaming smile that has replaced it.

“what a lovely idea!” you say, clasping your hands together. “unfortunately, i will have to decline your generous offer for a walk today. i feel i’m just too tired.” you make a point of sitting back down, on his desk this time, and dangling your feet off the edge. you look over you shoulder to grin at him, and it doesn’t even falter at alhaitham’s visible confusion.

this isn’t the first time his harsh words haven’t the slightest negative effect on you. the scribe, for all his intelligence and determination, can’t figure out why. if he said those same words to anyone else, they would have run out of his office with their tail between their legs. but not you.

short of telling you to piss off and go away, alhaitham does not know what could actually deter you—and even then, he feels him saying that would only further encourage you. between this and his research, alhaitham can’t tell which is the harder nut to crack, though he’s leaning towards the former.

“i’m going to take a break,” alhaitham announces, standing up and heading towards the door. the latter is at a standstill, and he’d rather return to it later than brute-forcing his way through it now.

“great idea,” you say, hopping off the desk. “where are we going? on a walk?”

“well, i am,” alhaitham says, “but didn’t you say your legs were hurting?”

“oh!” you pause and think very quickly. “they’re all better now—unless you want to carry me. then i have no objections.” this earns you an amused snort, but you figure that if alhaitham really doesn’t want you to come, he wouldn’t be opening the door in front of you like he is now.

“is there anything i can say to deter you?” he wonders aloud.

you think for a second, walking out of the office. alhaitham keeps pace next to you as you travel down the halls.

“i’m not sure. you could always send the matra after me. but even if you told me to drop dead, i wouldn’t care.”

“i didn’t realize i was such a sweet talker,” alhaitham mutters, more to himself than to you. you simply smile up at him, and when you ask him to repeat himself because you didn’t hear, alhaitham just smiles and shakes his head.

alhaitham isn’t one to pull his punches, and he likes to think it’s the same with you. but you smile so sweetly that the sourness and bitterness from earlier fades, and alhaitham finds himself wondering if there was ever a punch to be pulled in the first place.

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 8. A Talk with Joel

Happy Friday! And Double Posting of this fic Day! :)

Chapter Warnings: cursing, angst, smut, masterbation - Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!OC Plus Size Reader

Chapter Summary: Joel and you finally have a proper conversation. 1.4K

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8. A Talk with Joel

It’s a couple of days after Ellie came by and you’re doing your new nightly routine. Drinking your sleepy time tea that the coffee and tea house in downtown traded you for some help with bagging their tea leaf concoctions while working in the library. Putting on your night face cream that you got for finding a steamy romance novel for the lady who makes lotions and ointments in Jackson. And lighting the pine candle you got as a gift from Maria and Tommy when you moved into your own place. There’s a loud knock at the door that startles you. You quickly pull open the door to see an exasperated Joel Miller.

Joel walks past you into your small kitchenette area. “Come in, I guess…,” you question. “What’s this I hear about you takin’ on patrol duty?” Joel says as if it must be a joke. Instead of answering you move into your bedroom space leaving Joel in silence to continue your night cream application. “You know, I was actually in the middle of something when you so rudely barged your way into my home.” You say into the small mirror above the nightstand by your bed. Yeah, my home, asshole, the one I was forced into by you.

Joel, with a heavy sigh, walks to the door frame opening to your bedroom and leans against the it with his eyes on you. You continue to look at yourself just sparing him a cursory glance every now and then. “Tommy said you asked to be added to the patrol schedule.” He says quietly, likely dreading your response. “Yeah, I did,” you huff at him. “I want to contribute like everyone else in this town.” Joel scoffs, actually scoffs at you. God, fuck this guy.  “S’too dangerous. It’s not happening. I told Tommy I’d come here and set it straight with you.” You stomp your foot, and you know you look like a brat, but you don’t care because you’re just so over his bullshit. You walk over to him and with your voice raised say, “And why shouldn’t I? People older than me do it, people less capable than me. And what do you care if it’s dangerous? You don’t even speak to me, unless it’s to tell me what I can or can’t do.”

Joel shocks you by walking past you and sitting near the end of your bed. After a few moments of silence, you go and sit next to him. “Joel, what do you want from me?” you ask so quietly. He doesn’t answer so you continue. “Really, what is it? You took me in, you took care of me. You held me through my nightmares, and you… you kissed me. But then you sent me away. And you wouldn’t even look at me. Now, I’m trying to contribute, trying to make a place for myself so I’m not incredibly lonely all the time and you’re here just to take that away from me too? Why?” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes and you try to stop them as best you can.

Joel finally speaks, without looking at you, “I’m sorry.” You close your eyes when you hear it, I’m sorry is probably the last thing you thought you’d hear Joel Miller say maybe ever. You speak quietly, looking at his big sad beautiful brown eyes, “Okay, but still, why?” He looks so lost, this big broad man, so defeated when he says, “I don’t deserve to be here, in Jackson, alive at all, maybe. I’ve done horrible things, and I try and stay away, or push you away, but I’m weak and I come back because… look I just, I know that I should stay away, because when I am around, I’m just a thorn in your side.” It’s your turn to sigh now, “Joel, honestly, I’d rather have you as a thorn in my side than not to have you there at all.” He looks at you, seeing the tear run down your cheek, he uses his thumb to wipe the tear away and it’s like it set your skin on fire. He takes his hand back and looks away too quickly. “You shouldn’t want me around, Darlin’. I don’t think anyone should. I’m just a burden. I know it, I’m a burden to Ellie, to Tommy, even to you.” You slowly reach your hand to Joel’s broad shoulder, shaking slightly, you touch him. And just like always, it electrocutes you in the best way possible.

“Joel, I’ve done terrible things, most of us have. I’m guessing you did them to survive, to protect people? And you’re not a burden, Ellie and Tommy, you’re their superhero.” He chuckles at that, and you take your hand off him and shoulder check him instead. “Shut up, I know it’s corny but it’s true. Ellie and Tommy love you so much, Joel. You need to let them.” You look at him now until he returns your gaze. “You might be a little annoying, but a burden, never. And you literally saved my life, so you’re kind of my hero, too. Just don’t get a big head about it.” Joel stands up suddenly and you’re reminded how big and broad he is. It feels like he fills your entire room. He finally speaks, “Alright, if you’re going on patrol, you sure as hell ain’t going without me.” You look him in the eye and nod sharply. Joel’s lips turn up just slightly at the corners and then he sees it.

The black wolf that he carved and painted and hid in your box of things when you left his house. It sits where it always does, on your nightstand. He picks it up, its small in his big hand, and he says looking at the wolf, “You know, I painted it black that night when you told me wolves were your favorite.” “I know,” you respond almost too quickly. He looks at you and you lock eyes. It feels like time stands still, until he severs the moment, putting the wolf back where he found it and walking out of your home. As the door shuts, you release a breath you don’t know how long you’ve been holding. And suddenly everything comes to a head. Joel was just in your room, and now it smells like him, vanilla, musk and pine, like your candle.

Something takes over your body as you grab the wolf and hold it close to you. It’s still warm from Joel’s touch. And you lay your head down where he was seated on the bed, feeling the warmth there too. You bring your legs up to rest toward your pillow and before you can think about what you’re doing, you’ve got one hand grabbing at your breast beneath your t-shirt. And you bring the howling wolf statue between your legs and start to rub in into your clothed core. You still have sleep shorts and underwear on but they’re both thin and the shape of the wolf hits your clit so perfectly. You know it should feel wrong, but it doesn’t. Something he made with his own hands and gave to you is as close as you can feel to him right now and you think you’d do almost anything to feel close to him. The pressure from the wooden carving between your legs is enough for you to start to feel your arousal soaking through the layers between your sex and the wolf. So, so quickly, you start to moan out loud and call out Joel’s name into the night until you come completely apart.

Breathe heaving, and body trembling you finally start to come down from your high. Replacing the wolf where it belongs, on your beside table. And suddenly a sob rakes through you. Guilt, shame, hope, you’re not sure what it is you’re feeling but you know this isn’t the end of the journey with Joel, it might still be the beginning. What you don’t know, is that Joel doesn’t leave right away when he closes your door. He stands there, trying to catch his breath until he hears you whimper. And then moan. And then call out his name in ecstasy. And he can’t help but put his ear to the door and listen to every perfect, beautiful sound you made. He leaves with a rock-hard dick in his pants for his walk home, before he can hear you start to cry.

Taglist: @somedayheaven @elegantduckturtle @indiegirlunited @guelyury @cheekychaos28 @ghostofzion @harriedandharassed

[add1ctedt0you]

Novel quotes: wei wuxian having feelings/thoughts about jiang cheng

Under the cut because it's long

However, Jiang Cheng was gone. Holding steamed buns, flatbreads, and fruits in his hands, Wei WuXian felt his heart skip a beat. He forced himself to calm down. Even after he searched through the neighboring streets, he still didn’t see Jiang Cheng. He finally began to panic. Grabbing a cobbler on the side, he asked, “Mister, there was a young master about the same age as me sitting here. Did you see where he went?” The cobbler licked the thick end of a thread, “The one that was with you?” Wei WuXian, “Yeah!”

The cobbler, “I was in the middle of doing something so I didn’t really see. But he kept on spacing out, staring at the people on the street. And then when I looked up at where he was again, he suddenly disappeared. Maybe he left.”

Wei WuXian murmured, “... He left... He left...”

He probably left for Lotus Pier to steal the bodies!

As though he had gone mad, Wei WuXian sprinted immediately toward the direction that they had come from.

[...]

He gave himself a harsh scolding in silence—he was stupid, useless, ridiculous, it was bizarre, unimaginable. Yet, he was alone, without a sword or any tools, and on the other side of the wall there were thousands of Wen Sect’s cultivators, perhaps Wen ZhuLie as well.

He wasn’t scared of death. He was only scared that after he died, he wouldn’t be able to save Jiang Cheng and betray the trust that Jiang FengMian and Madam Yu left him. In such circumstances, the only one he could place his hope on was a person of the Wen Sect whom he had met only three times in total!

[...]

Wei WuXian’s gaze turned from Wen Ning toward Jiang Cheng, whose body was covered in blood and eyes were tightly shut. His fingers couldn’t help but clenched into fists.

Chapter 59 Poisons—Part Four

Jiang Cheng’s expression was rather strange. It was calm, almost too calm. He stared at the ceiling, as though he wasn’t at all interested in the situation that he was in, as though he didn’t care about where he was either. Wei WuXian didn’t expect him to react in such a way. Sadness, happiness, anger, shock—he had none of these. His heart skipped a beat, “Jiang Cheng, can you see me? Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?” Jiang Cheng glanced at him. He didn’t say anything. Wei WuXian asked him a few more questions. Arm supporting himself, he finally sat upright. He looked down at the mark of the discipline whip on his chest before laughing bitterly. If the discipline whip struck, it’d be impossible to wipe away the mark of shame. Wei WuXian comforted him despite this, “Stop looking at it. There has to be a way to get it off.” Jiang Cheng slapped him. His strike was so weak, so powerless that Wei WuXian didn’t even flinch, “Hit me. As long as you’ll feel better.”

[...]

If Wei WuXian were the one injured or if somebody else had saved them, he’d immediately say farewell and leave at once, full of determination. However, right now, Jiang Cheng was the one who had been injured. Not only was he injured, he had lost his core as well. He wasn’t in his right mind. No matter what, Wei WuXian couldn’t find any determination.

Chapter 60 Poisons—Part five

Out of the blue, Jiang Cheng spoke up, “Not to do what?” Wei WuXian paused in surprise, turning to him along with Lan WangJi. Jiang Cheng covered his wound with one hand, his voice chilly, “Wei WuXian, you’re such a great, selfless person. You did the best things possible, and you swallowed all the suffering and didn’t let anyone know. What a touching story. I should kneel down and cry in gratitude, shouldn’t I?” Hearing the mocking tone that lacked any courtesy, Lan WangJi’s face grew cold. Jin Ling saw the displeased expression and immediately stood in front of Jiang Cheng, scared that Lan WangJi would kill him with one strike, “Uncle!” Wei WuXian’s expression worsened as well. He never expected Jiang Cheng to make up with him after he found out the truth, but he didn’t think his tone would be as unkind as ever, either. With a moment of silence, he replied, voice muffled, “I never asked you to thank me.”

[...]

In the beginning, it was precisely because he didn’t want to see such a Jiang Cheng that he decided not to tell him.

He remembered every single thing he promised Jiang FengMian and Madam Yu—to help and take care of Jiang Cheng. If someone as unhealthily competitive as him found out about this, he’d be dispirited his whole life, too tortured to face himself. There’d always be something he could never overcome, reminding him that he could only reach where he was because of another’s sacrifice. It wasn’t at all his cultivation and his achievement. No matter if he won or lost, he’d long since lost the right to compete.

Afterwards, it was because Jin ZiXuan and Jiang YanLi died for him that he had no face to let others know. To tell Jiang Cheng after what happened then would be like shirking responsibility, hurrying to demonstrate that he’d contributed as well. It’d be like telling Jiang Cheng, don’t hate me, look I’ve contributed to the YunmengJiang Sect too.

Chapter 102- Hatred - Part Five

At this point, somebody on the side suddenly called, “Wei WuXian!”

Wei WuXian answered immediately, “What?”

Only after he answered did he realize that the one who called him was Jiang Cheng. Wei WuXian felt somewhat surprised. Jiang Cheng didn’t respond directly. Instead, he took something out from his sleeve and tossed. Wei WuXian caught it by instinct and looked, only to find a black, gleaming flute along with a crimson tassel.

It was the ghoul flute, Chen Qing!

As he felt the flute that he was more than familiar with, Wei WuXian didn’t even have the spare time to feel surprised.

Chapter 108: Concealment - Part Two

After a pause, he asked again, “How have Sect Leader Jiang and Jin Ling been?”

Lan JingYi pouted, “They seem pretty fine. Sect Leader Jiang is the same as before, always lashing out at people with his whip. Young Mistress’s temper has been getting better. In the past he could talk back thrice to his uncle after he scolds him once. Now he can do ten times.”

[...]

Hearing Lan JingYi say so, Wei WuXian relaxed slightly. In truth, he knew that these weren’t what he really wanted to ask. But as it sounded like Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling had been doing quite well, there was nothing left to say.

Chapter 116: Extra—Banquet - Part Three

[depressopax]

Before it's too late

Nacho Varga x gn!reader

Fandom - Better call Saul

Yoo! I haven't posted in ages, been feeling down and mentally exhausted 😭 Also been writing on my very own novel for a school project AHHH Basically been writing, procrastinating, writing, etc etc... But so far so good!

Now then... ✨Angst time✨

Pairing: Nacho Varga x gender neutral reader Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort Warning(s): BCS SPOILERS! Based on s4e3 “Something Beautiful”. Major character injury. Mentions of death and violence. Blood. Guns and bullet wounds. Cuss words. Mentions of surgery. Reader is gender-neutral and has they/them pronouns Words: 1.6K Summary: Based on s4e3, in which Nacho gets shot by Victor and is left in the desert. After being saved by the Cousins, reader rushes to the vet office to see him.  English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ||

The sun is burning in Albuquerque today, making the concrete and highways threateningly warm. It’s an early morning and will only get hotter. The streets are empty and people are either sleeping safely in their beds or avoiding the burning morning-light. It’s a perfect day to stay in the shadows or - for those who have the option - close to the fresh breeze from the AC. 

Not everyone has that option. 

But bleeding to death in the desert is a rare case, too. 

This is how I die. 

Nacho thinks. He’s lost track of time. The man is lying on his side, facing away from the sun and hoping it will protect him from a sunburn. It’s the last thing he needs right now. 

The wounded shoulder is enough. His hands are bloody and so is the warm sand he is facing. 

Dehydration and blood loss. - That was not the way he thought he’d go down.

If it weren’t for the sharp pain in his shoulder - that’s slowly spreading throughout every inch of his body - he’d feel angry and humiliated.

Gus and his men left him to bleed out in the middle of nowhere. The damn Chicken Man. 

Arturo is dead. 

Nacho? About to join Arturo in the afterlife. 

His mind is bitter and he’s losing the battle of patience. 

“Do it quick, before you pass out” - That was the words of Gus’ lap dog, Victor. He was quick. Directly after he was left bleeding, he dialed the number to them. The Cousins. 

Where are they? 

He’s lost count if it's been days, hours or minutes since he got shot. All he knows is that he is slowly going insane. The sun burns his neck and he lets out a grunt, opening and closing his dry mouth. There's a taste of iron on his tongue due to his dry, chapped lips. 

Water. His vision gets blurry and with gloomy eyes he looks at the wet, red sand under him. 

They’re not coming. Those fuckers aren’t on their way. 

I’m dead. 

The realization hits Nacho, fueling the pain he’s already feeling. 

Dad. 

Guilt washes over him. What will happen to his dad if he dies? That, and…

He whispers your name hoarsely. 

You. His beautiful partner. The one who’s always been by his side, the only one that knows about and doesn’t judge him for his fucked up choices and his chaotic life. The person he’s been so distant and cold towards lately. Worst part is… 

They have no idea how much I love them. 

“I love you” - A sentence yet to be said. So many emotions are left unspoken, so many things left unsaid. 

Without thinking or caring about the consequences, Nacho reaches for his phone. With shaky, bloody hands, he dials your number and listens to the waiting tone. 

“Ignacio?” A soft voice filled with concern says. Nacho smiles. 

“Did I wake you up?”

“Yea… But don’t worry. What’s up, Nacho?”

The silence lingers. What the hell is he supposed to reply? 

“I gotta tell you something.”

“Nacho… What is going on? Are you ok?”

“No… But listen, mi amor.”

“Ignacio…-”

“I love you.” Silence again. His voice cracks from the emotions “...I love you so fucking much.”

“Why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye?”

“...Because I am.” His voice is barely a whisper anymore. “Take care of my father for me, will you?” 

Your voice breaks on the other line. 

“Where are you?”

No reply. You realize it’ll stay that way. He is too stubborn to let you help him. As if accepting defeat, you break apart.

“Don’t cry, mi vida…” He whispers.

“Please don’t die. Please.” 

I promise. Nacho wants to reply. But the last thing he wants to do right now is give you false hope. So he stays quiet. His ears are ringing and he wonders how he still has blood left in his body. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I love you, Ignacio. I love you…”

He smiles in relief. That was all he needed to hear. 

It’s all said and done and now he can at least die with some peace.

“And I love you.” 

He hangs up.

When a character faces death in movies, they see their life flash before their eyes. 

A cliche. Nacho thought up until now.

He envisions the few happy and peaceful moments he’s had in life. Most of them involve his dad Manuel, and you. The first date, first kiss, first time… 

Maybe it’s the sun or maybe he’s actually walking into the light, when suddenly a shadow covers it. He grunts. 

In the distance, he can hear two men talking to each other in Spanish. Someone lifts him from the ground. 

Exhaustion catches up with Nacho and everything fades to black. 

You almost kick open the door to the Veterinary Office. 

How you even got the address is a miracle.

Maybe because you’ve called Nacho’s phone at least twenty times within the last hour, or maybe because they know Nacho has a partner? That seems unlikely. Nacho has made sure to keep the relationship secret from everyone, to protect you. Only people that know that he is your boyfriend are Manuel Varga and your family. 

The last explanation… Maybe, somehow, Nacho’s Cartel colleagues are humane enough to let family and friends say farewell to their dying loved ones… 

Apart from an elderly lady and her cat, the waiting room is empty at this time in the morning. The receptionist looks startled when she sees you. But then again you can’t judge her. With puffy and red eyes and the almost wild expression on your face it’s no wonder people are concerned. Without waiting for her to greet you, you rush to the office whilst the woman shouts after you. 

Nothing can prepare you for what you see. 

It’s your boyfriend - lying down half-naked on a metal table whilst the vet, Caldera, performs surgery. Two men in suits stand next to the tense vet, watching over his every move with caution. As the door shuts behind you, the three men turn to look at you. One of the twins raises their guns. 

“What happened to him?!” A voice barely noticeable. The man lowers his gun as his brother mumbles something to him. The vet goes back to work and Nacho squirms on the table. They’re killing him. 

You know that's not true and makes zero sense. 

But what makes sense about this situation either way? 

You don’t realise that you’re shouting allegations until someone grips you and drags you out of the room. Before you get kicked out of the office, a weak voice calls your name. 

Nacho. 

Minutes turn into hours, morning turns to day and then afternoon. You remain seated on the cold tile floor hugging your knees against your chest. The anxiety grows stronger and it feels like you’re about to drown in worry. When the door to the office finally opens, you can barely stand up. 

It’s impossible to read the expression on his face. The scrubs he’s wearing are stained red. You can feel your stomach twist. 

“He’s alive.” 

Nacho wakes up from his feverish dreams. His mind is foggy and his eyes feel heavy. The sedatives are wearing off and his whole body aches, especially the place where the bullets penetrated his shoulder. 

He is in a cold room with his bare back resting against an even colder metal table. He feels like shit. With a raspy voice, he repeats the only word he’s been able to say lately. Your name. When a warm hand intertwines fingers with him, he finally breathes out. 

Your sobbing wakes him from his trance. He opens his brown eyes and looks at you through heavy eyelids and black eyelashes. He manages to give you a weak smile and in a raspy voice, he greets you.

“Hey, mi vida.”

“Hey, my love.” You reply and manage to smile through the tears. “You’re alive…” 

With those words said, you burst into tears again. The cousins and Caldera look uncomfortable with the emotional outbursts and the scene between the two lovebirds.

“...Let’s give Varga and his partner some time to talk.” the vet says. He’s quick to leave and the twin men don't protest. 

Once finally alone, Nacho brings a weak, trembling hand to your cheek. He feels the soft skin against his palm and feels a sense of relief. When you lean forward he doesn’t think twice before pulling you into a kiss, and then another one. 

He’s alive. 

“I love you. I should’ve told you earlier, I… I’m sorry.” 

Your boyfriend tries sitting up and winces in pain. 

“You don’t need to apologize.” 

He can no longer hold back the wave of emotions. The shock of watching Arturo die, the stress Hector and his nephews have caused him, for years. The worries for his own life, but mostly for his dad, and you. It all comes crashing down. And now… Gus is a threat.

Nacho knows his life just got more complicated and a lot more dangerous. 

He’ll have to tell you everything. 

But for now… 

He cries. He lets you hold onto him. 

Nacho squeezes you close to him, to make sure you can’t slip away. 

Once he’s healed, he’ll go back to duty. He’ll protect you.

But for now… He lets you protect him. 

When you whisper “I love you”, he feels at peace. 

You’re his shelter and his home.

Did my mentally unstable a- cry when writing this because I love Nacho so damn much?? Yes. 2am emotional damage

[urlocalbone]

Reading Jhumpa Lahiri’s “The Namesake” was a riveting, almost delicate business for me. At several times I felt so attacked by the author that I was tempted to put the book down, yet the fragile personas of the characters drew me on past the pages.

It is a book from my Australian school’s English novel list. And so is “Wuthering Heights” or “Jane Eyre”. I read those with equitable interest, overanalysing every sentence, theme and character. I read background books, tried Milton’s “Paradise Lost”, Emily Brontë’s poems, Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”, all about the Brontë sisters’ household. I stormed through shelves in my university library, took refuge to the bedroom for reading up to late hours; I worked in a fever dream. The sheer excitement of navigating my way past great pieces of literature felt rewarding in itself. It was a foreign experience; as I had learned, along with my Bangladeshi peers, to read what was on the syllabus, without questioning what was within.

It all felt great, until I hit home.

All the above mentioned are written by individuals with whom I do not share my skin tone, my food habits or my accent. Therefore I “explore” them but not find myself within. Like an impartial observer, I rate this or that.

But Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Gogol” would not let me do that. His parents are Bengali, just like me. He is an American-Indian, just like I have a hyphen between my nationality too: Australian-Bangladeshi. And he is frivolous, which with great pains I will admit being too. His faults feel mine. Or at least, he annoys me, gets under my skin.

The novel opens with his birth and early childhood. He grows up indifferent to his ethnicity, preferring English, beef and high school parties over embracing Bengali, white rice and being involved in the culture he has a rightful share in. His family gives in too. I find myself enraged at their conduct, feeling grateful I came to Australia at a ripe age of sixteen- I am incapable of deserting my roots now. Then again, I discover that I have the same mentality as a middle-aged desi aunty, how shameful is that! Shouldn’t I be open-minded, and accept that Gogol has to cope with the country he was born in, rather than the one he has no attachment to?

Gogol’s mental stigma about his name is another side to his character that appears immature to me. He hates sharing a name with a Russian author, whom he finds demented than inspiring. He never sets to find out why his father Ashoke named him after his favourite Nikolai Gogol. It is a story he seeks out too late, a few weeks before Ashoke’s sudden death. He changes to “Nikhil”, even though he mentally admits no one, except he himself, has ever pestered him for the name he was born with.

Even though it isn’t directly pronounced, Gogol (now Nikhil) always tries to break free of Bengali “norms” and his parents’ expectations, unapologetically. This is reflected in his numerous love affairs with various women. But his attention is always fleeting. He’d rather be on holiday with his girlfriend’s “elegant” parents than his own. How does he fail to notice, as I do as a reader, that he indeed seeks out the idea of “settling down” in his partners in a very Bengali way, but miserably fails every time?

Something about his romantic life scares me. Will I, as a hyphenated Bengali girl, experience the same troubles as him? Will complying with my tradition feel unnatural to me some day too? As I read past Moushumi’s Parisian cigarettes and the descriptions of fine wine, do I not feel tempted? To go ahead, break the “rules” and enjoy “life”, as they say it?

And the lonesome, tired corner of my soul says that thousands of kids have broken the rules, there are no more to be newly broken. Do they really enjoy life like a one-night-stand? I highly doubt so.

As my mother’s words ring in my ears, “Love, keep your romantic life simple, so you’ll get time to do great things in life itself!”

Yet, I feel bitter as Gogol does not utter a single word of regret as the novel comes to an end. It is almost as if I am his mother, waiting to box his ears and set him right. But he wouldn’t admit that he was wrong, all his life.

[stubz]

Storytelling is my profession. If I told you that in 2020 you would have thought I was a writer, children's novels, or perhaps a podcaster considering my age. Now when I tell people that, they give me a look of pity or a laugh.

Nothing tells the world that your a worthless nobody better than saying that.

I had just graduated when quarantine started. Took a gap year and just stayed home with the family doing nothing but rot on the couch for the most part. I wasted all of that precious time to learn something, anything, before the lockdown failed.

I always wondered what I could have done had I gotten a job before February 2021.

Maybe a dismantler in the recycling centre if I explored my interest in things like those building kits. Or maybe an extra hand in the tailor shop if I learned more about crocheting. Work in the kitchen if I baked more.

Of course I still wouldn't make much more. Hours would be shit. Especially in winter. Cold air makes the pain act up.

That's another thing I always wondered about. What if I fractured my ankle before The Fall? Gone to a hospital, gotten a cast or boot or whatever and let it heal properly. The possibilities are endless.

I would have made it onto the last bus. I wouldn't have been denied by every group I came across. I would have been able to use a bike. I would be able to fucking run.

...god I miss running.

Can't run. Can't scavenge. Can't do anything actually useful. Can't even do a job nobody wants because my ankle hurts halfway through the shift, nobody wants a slacker. Can't do nothing.

Nothing but tell stories.

It's mostly to children. Tell a story and if they like it they'll give me whatever they feel like. Sometimes they'll give me something for a request.

I tell them stories of the movies I loved, the shows I watched religiously, the anime I was shy to share, the books I forget the middle of. I tell them anything I think of.

It earns me enough. Enough to eat, to drink, but most importantly it earns me something far more valuable. I am rich in it while most in this town are in need of it.

I didn't know I had so much of it for quite some time. Not until I experienced my first winter after The Fall.

We never got much snow but I guess the drop in pollution did something? I don't know but ever since 2021 we've had so much of it here. My first winter like this there was easily a foot and I nearly lost a foot to frost bite.

I would have too had I not been allowed to stay in a family's horse stable that winter. They had passed my freezing body that day and dragged me in. This made news for the town as most ignore the freezing on the streets. Heartless inactions years ago now smart and the norm. You don't know who we are but you know what we are.

We are freezing. We are starving. We are desperate for more. We want more.

It's safer to ignore us than to trust us because you don't know us.

But in this case he did. Little Liam, one of my regular listeners. He vouched for me, told them I was the storyteller he went to, I had a bad leg, I was harmless. That was enough for his family to let me into their stable.

I am rich in trust. The children's specifically. They trust me and through them I have access to others.

I received a crutch that was to be scrapped from a carpenter after his niece told him I knew the ending to a show he never got to finish.

I received an old jacket from a tailor when she learned I was the one who kept her children interested in school with my tales of odd natural events.

By the second winter I had made myself an actual little business. People come to me for the endings of things they never finished. They come to me for stories they never started. They come to escape. New books are hard to come by after all.

By the third winter I actually managed housing. I was allowed to sleep in the bar as at night my tales were popular among the drunks. I was also a good enough shot and alarm system if anyone tried to break in. I was no longer one of the faceless on the street but a member of the town.

I was me again. A person.

Until some of our regulars tried to come in after hours. Our more influential regulars. I did my job, I heard the window break and shot a warning shot at the roof. I did my job, fired a warning shot, and lost my eye.

By the fourth winter I was back on the streets as a faceless nobody. My business was back to what it once was. A little sad entertainment for children for whatever scraps they managed to get from their parents.

They tried to help. The adults. But the regulars were influential. One was the head builder of this town, the one who built the walls. Another was one of the few doctors we had. Also they were just getting to know who I am. Now they're back to knowing what I am.

Never will they trust me as much as their children do for they know better. As they should.

I'm not a bad person. I'm not. I'm just a woman with a bad leg and no eye who is trying to do everything she can to survive in a new world.

I'm just telling them stories. About a monster who creeps into your body. Makes you act different. Loud, messy, angry, and gives off an awful smell (just like the regulars). Smells just like the monsters outside of town that bang on the walls (the monsters they've never actually seen). Smells a little like the drink that adults like to drink at the bar (the one I used to live at).

Don't worry, your parents will be fine (I know none of them ever drank like they did). Now remember the smell, the loudness, the anger, like the monsters. Do you know who to go to for help if you see these monsters (who have it ingrained to shoot first when a child could be in danger)? ...yes. That's right. You go to the patrolmen or your parents and tell them that a monster got them (exactly that, a monster got them).

The patrolmen will take care of them. They got the tools for it after all. Now go on. It's getting late and the monsters come out when it's dark...what about me? ...can I ask that you who live near my corner keep an eye on me through your window? ...thank you my little listeners.

By the fifth winter I live in the room above the bar. I have a jacket that fits me and doesn't have holes in them. I have a crutch that's my size. I have an eyepatch that has a book patch on it. I have gained weight, grown out my hair, and have a nightly routine where after I tell my last tale and close up the bar I enjoy a cup of tea while enjoying the view from my window.

My little corner where I slept. Where my little listeners, too scared to sleep, saw the monsters stagger towards me and woke up their families with screams of help.

No was at fault. The parents only did what anyone else would do given the information they had. If you hear there's a monster, an infected, outside you shoot it. The children were not at fault for they were merely spooked from scary stories and possibly hearing infected from outside the walls. I was not at fault for how is a storyteller at fault for telling a story? I was not the one who pulled the trigger. I was not the one who told the children it was true. I just told them a story. Simple as that.

[qiutls]

TNGDH 002

Cashew nut.

After transmigrating, my name became cashew nut.

Who the hell thought of this name?

Of all the various words that exist, why was I named cashew nut?

How is this any different from naming humans, kimchi stew, fried rice, omelet, seaweed soup, steak or curry….

…Forget it. Since I became a hamster, forget about my human rights, just give them to the dogs. I lived hard like a cactus in the wasteland, forget about getting money and earning fame from the game I developed, as a hamster I can’t even earn wealth. The feeling of unfairness that I had forgotten suddenly returned. That’s right… There’s a saying, even if you roll in a pile of dog poop, you still win. So let’s say it’s a good thing that I survived and transmigrated. Even if it’s a novel that I read half-asleep and dropped in the middle, it’s fine. The saying means no matter how low life goes, it’s much better to live than to die.

But why?! Of all the characters in the novel! Why did I have to be a hamster! I became a damn hamster!

[ Synchronization is complete! ]

Right. You, system. Speak! Let me hear your explanation on why I became a hamster out of all the characters.

[ That was the only vacancy! ~(˘▾˘~) ]

Are you kidding me?

As I gritted my teeth, Kyle carefully dropped me into the new house.

"Cashew Nut? Why do you have no energy? Do you want to rest?"

Yeah. There's a lot of things to think about now, so please don’t push me to go crazy and let me go.

I kicked Kyle in the palm with my little foot. I need to talk to that damn system, get lost!

He tilted his head and looked at me with a serious look, and put me down carefully in the new house he had prepared in advance.

"Even though it’s a bit lacking, I've made a house for you. Rest here and feel better."

Kyle smiled. It was a smile that felt very affectionate, which did not suit his face which exuded coldness.

W-what's wrong with you? Stop smiling! It doesn't suit you. Let's just live as we look.

I grumbled at him and then started looking around. The hamster house that he said he had prepared for me in advance, just by looking at it..

It's too much… Really too much for a small hamster…

The small house which had three floors was higher than the table.

The frame was made out of firm wood and the top part was arched. The center of the house was even decorated with colorful red jewels.

If you look carefully inside, it’s decorated at every corner, there are cushions that look soft, feed bowls that are shiny enough to be mistaken for ornaments from a distance, some sawdust and all kinds of soft chew toys, slides, and sieve wheels…….

It's luxurious. I've never seen such an elaborate hamster house in my life. In addition, the decorations engraved on each frame were shimmering to the point that it felt burdensome.

Did you engrave gold in the hamster's house as well?

In the past whenever I went home from work, only a narrow studio greeted me as I opened the door. There was only one window in that apartment and now I’m able to live in a house that’s 3 stories tall, by hamster standards, of course.

[ The Grand Duke is the third richest aristocrat in the empire. ]

It seems so. Raising a hamster and building a house like this, he either is rich as hell or crazy about hamsters... I think he’s both rich and crazy as hell.

"In any case, It’s better for you to rest. I will come by tomorrow."

I sighed deeply. I didn't nod or look at him, since a hamster who understands people's words is too suspicious. Killing is a no-go!

In this big house, I snuck to a corner and curled up to sleep. Go, leave! Let me sleep.

"Cashew Nut."

―…….

"Have a good dream."

Good dreams my ass! This situation is a nightmare for me. *

Peace finally came after the damn hamster lover returned to his bedroom.

Now, let's have a serious talk.

Hey, come out.

[ 〣(ºΔº)〣 ]

Right now, am I inside "The Heart of Winter"?

[ Yes, that's right! (*>▽<)ｼ ]

And that's the Duke of Blake, who dies at the middle of the novel.

[ Kyle Jane Minehardt. Approximately one month before the estimated time of death. ]

So I transmigrated… But the heroine....

[ This is Serena. ]

Serena's name and face popped up in the system window. It was a woman with soft brown hair and green eyes. She looked about my age, but her clothes were quite dirty. Come to think of it, Serena in the original story said that after transmigrating, she escaped the slum with her intelligence and life skills.

Come to think of it, Serena didn’t even have a name until she became empress. Serena, it’s a name passed down to every empress from generation to generation. Right now, the heroine is a woman with no name.

Hang on. But I transmigrated as well, right? Can two people transmigrate into the same novel?

[ Serena didn't transmigrate. ]

[ The plot has changed. ]

[ Miracle value 1% ]

I sat on a rocking chair and looked at the system window seriously. I couldn't cross my short legs, so I could only rub my chin with my small hands.

I've been thinking about this for a while, what the hell is "miracle value"?

[ You're destined to die. ]

The sentence popped up on a blue interface. It shone chillingly blue with a sad emoticon, tearing up next to it.

… Destined to die.

It came to my mind. The pale light of the headlight of the car that hit me, the sound of friction made by the wheels scratching the ground, my body floating into the air...….

[ But before you died, I intervened right away! ]

The system spoke, bringing me out of the daze.

[ Your original body is in a coma right now. If you don't earn enough miracle value, you can't avoid the upcoming death. Collect information and find the best data to survive. Once you set a goal, you will be sent a customized quest. ]

So you’re saying…

[ Raise your miracle value and I'll save you from death! ]

You’ll save me? Why? How? Are you a god?

[ Once you collect enough miracle value, it’s can be used to create your own miracle! ]

This system... Looking at it this way. In order to raise the miracle value, I need to create miracles, but I’m just a hamster! With this small body, what tricks am I supposed to do? This damn system! You’re just making me work for you? Do you have any conscience?

[ อิ_อี; ]

After living hard to make money, now I have to live hard to make miracles! Am I Moses? Huh? Do you want me to split the sea for you?

But my settlement money. My bright future. My old life, and my human rights… That’s right I don't want to die of old age as a hamster.

I rolled up my little fist. There was no other option, I’m already living as a hamster, how hard can anything else be.

[ Do you want to set a goal? ]

Miracles and goals.

So, the point of the system was to change the fate of the world in <The Heart of Winter>, gather its power, and change my own fate. Instead of Serena, I was the one who transmigrated to a hamster and the miracle value went up. Wouldn't it rise again if something that should happen in the novel was prevented?

The problem is I only finished half of the novel. As soon as the character who I sympathized with the most died, I dropped it! So, I don't know the end of this story. How can I change the fate when I don’t know who wins and loses in the end.… Hold on.

Kyle! Yeah, Kyle Jane Minehardt. The man is supposed to die in a month. What if we save Kyle? There is no greater miracle than reversing death.

Yeah. Like it or not, anyway Kyle became my master, and I didn't want him to die miserably when I was a reader. The reason why I dropped the novel, a man who was worried about his lover’s safety died at the hands of the woman he loved the most.

Alright, why don't I save Kyle? This should also be considered a miracle.

[ Goal set complete: Save Kyle Jane Minehardt. ]

[ Choosing a quest…….]

I felt strange. If I save him, can I really come back to life? I wanted to ask one more time if this was possible, but it was meaningless I had already become a hamster, what could be more absurd than this. That’s right, even though there’s still a long way to go, let's both survive!

Please give me a quest that fits the current difficulty, Mr. System. I can’t do anything in this body right now except increase the companionship value with the Grand Duke. At best I’m sure I’ll be able to improve his satisfaction levels within 5 years, even though it would cost me my body. He meant because Kyle is obsessed with hamsters, he just has to act cute and be pampered and petted until his body is sore lmao.

After a few minutes of silence, the system held out its first quest.

[ Let's become a humane hamster! (ง˙∇˙)ว ]

As I clicked the quest with my small hand in the air, the following sentences appeared.

[ Let's become a warm pet hamster! ]

[ Reward: Small miracle value, a chance to get back some human characteristics. ]

Why is it a miracle to be a humane hamster? System, was the hamster from the original novel a bad guy?

[ ´•̥︿•̥`)⁾⁾ ]

Are you serious? Ah what a crazy drama.

[ Kyle looked down at a finger that was bleeding. It was still a young demon, but surprisingly it was able to survive the barren north. It was natural that it could not be easily tamed. A faint disappointment came to his cold, firm face. ]

Sentences believed to be the contents of the original work came to mind neatly.

……Was there really such a thing?

More than that, were you originally going to raise a demonic beast? Indeed, the North is barren and you might feel lonely, so you must’ve wanted a companion. Even if the demonic beast goes rampant, Kyle is strong enough to kill it. There was no telling, it could have been a cute human-friendly beast and there would be no harm in raising it. It's not that strange to hope for companionship from a hamster.

[ "Then why didn't you just leave it there?"

Kyle replied to the driver's words.

"Then do you want it to just die as it is?" ]

Kyle was the first one to reach out to me who was going to die…… Yes, well, I'll let you off the hook. We're all trying to make ends meet. As long as you're not holding me upside down, I don't have to bite you either.

Above all, I am a human being, not a hamster. I don't do anything barbaric like biting humans.

[ (ʃƪ˘³˘)(´ε｀ʃƪ) ? ]

No, but I do hope Kyle can refrain from kissing, I thought as I lay down, remembering Kyle’s warm smile earlier. Do you like animals that much? It really doesn’t suit you. novel ⠀✿⠀ next

[fisheito]

for the question thing!!! do you have any silly hcs about the clan boys (+ the familiars/eito)? can be as wild as u want

sorry in advance if i don't have any HCs for ur beloveds bc i can only offer what my brain chooses to fixate on.... but let's see........

i like to imagine clan members enjoying fun little hobby hours

i pretend they're not busy adults with their own obligations and schedules.... so they just get together like a bunch of retirees and partake in shared hobbies whenever they want 🤗

e.g.,

book club: oli, blade, yaku, garu

horny book club: eiden, morv, blade, edmond if he works up the courage to discuss his fave BDSM PwP short novel with the 3 most shameless creatures ever ... honestly oli could join as well but i'm gonna excuse him from ONE book club so he can get some sleep. maybe he'll alternate days between the two 😆

sewing and knitting together like a couple of serene grandmas: yakuoli. eiden joins sometimes (all serenity is lost when he does)

TARGET PRACTICE! NEW ACTIVITIES!!! DARTS!! ! PIN THE TAIL ON THE EDMOND! sorry idk this is just my way of saying that after the cowboy event, i want to imagine edmond/dante/garu all playing target striking games and it becomes a contest of how split one dart can be down the middle (you can't all be perfect aimers ok aster can't keep buying new darts can u PLEASE throw them anywhere but dead centre).

i know blade could join as well but would it take the competition aspect out of it? he's kind of calibrated to never miss right?? it's not a game anymore. it's just superior blade and pissed off dante and garu cheering (he's just happy to be there) and edmond trying to be civil about letting everyone participate

they are out in the garden. touching grass: yaku is gardening. blade is collecting bugs. garu is digging holes. kuya is bewitching plants at random to spew sex pollen into someone's face (i feel like this is his superpower in SEVERAL fics and i am not complaining). quincy is trying to nap

.but .

he chose the worst place to do it. in the middle of nature's playground (aster's garden)?

garu's kicking up dust into his face. blade is shoving random insects into his face and asking identification questions. yaku screams when he inevitably falls to the kuya traps. kuya can't resist watching the little ones (yakugaru) play with dirt. WHY would you choose to sleep here.

(Topper is nibbling all the edible plants in the garden while skillfully avoiding all the porn plot traps with his superior Toppinstincts)

now for 3 ! single character HCs.......

kuya: wanders the marketplace, and often sees those anti-aging creams with LOFTY claims to their power... he always mocks them and insults the intelligence of all the vain people clamouring to buy the stock. later that day you will see kuya at home, trying those very same creams (procured illegally, of course, because why pay for anything ever) and pretending like he's zero percent interested in the results

rei: in the same situation will just as quickly mock the creams but unlike kuya he'll mean it and will NOT be caught applying the gloop all over his face later. "lmao it's just sunscreen who even believes this shit"

yakumo: i like to give him sneczema sometimes. i know it's implied that everyone in gay gacha has perfect skin forever *waves hand dismissively* BUT

imagine that he loves working with his hands but the sneczema can flare up if he's too rough on em, so he compromises by wearing his gloves. protect that vulnerable skin, yaku!! [insert pun about scaly skin]

His SR clothing material seems soft. Aesthetic reason: slippery smooth like the idea of snek. Practical reason: coarse textures can aggravate skin 😔 only the silkiest coverings for a scaly boy...

i mean. yaku prefers the wet cave environment so we gotta keep an eye on his humidity. too dry and he'l'l turn into a wafer (like in Solaria that One Time)

is this just an excuse for me to mist him with a spray bottle ? at random times because it just seems like fun? perhaps. spritzspritz

[shalnarkwifeyy]

"Angel of Demise" Pt 1

Yan! Phantom Troupe x Fem!Reader

Life is boring. Insufferably dull.

I hate it. Every day feels like a repetitive cycle, an endless loop of meaningless routines. Sometimes, I catch myself wondering—why doesn’t the world just end already? Wouldn’t it be far more thrilling to watch everything crumble into oblivion? To see towering buildings collapse, to hear the deafening sound of destruction tearing through the earth?

The thought makes me chuckle.

Or better yet—if the world won’t end, maybe I should just escape it altogether. A different world, an isekai, would be far more exciting. Magic, adventure, danger... something, anything, to break this unbearable monotony.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely register the blaring sound of a truck horn until it’s too late.

A small figure—no, a child—stands frozen in the middle of the road, eyes wide with fear. The massive truck barrels toward him, and instinct takes over before reason.

Move.

I sprint forward, feeling the wind whip against my face. My legs push off the ground with a force I didn’t know I possessed. In an instant, I reach the child and—BAM—I slam my foot into the truck’s front, stopping it in its tracks with a metallic screech.

The silence that follows is deafening.

The child starts wailing, his small body trembling in shock. A woman—his mother—comes rushing forward, tears streaming down her face as she gathers him into her arms. She looks up at me, her expression a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

"T-Thank you," she stammers, her voice shaky.

I nod once, not bothering to say anything. Words feel unnecessary.

Turning away, I walk off without sparing them another glance.

Boring.

Is this all life has to offer?

As I continue down the street, something darts across my vision. A black cat. It moves unnaturally fast, heading straight toward me. My reflexes kick in, and I sidestep just in time to avoid colliding with it.

But then—crack.

A sharp pain explodes at the back of my head. A brick—a damn brick—falls from a nearby building and slams into my skull. I stagger, my vision spinning, warm blood seeping down my temple.

"Shit," I mutter weakly. My knees give way beneath me.

And then...

---

~♡~

When I open my eyes, everything feels... wrong.

I’m lying on top of a pile of rubbish, the sharp scent of rust and decay filling my nostrils. The world around me is a blur of grime and twisted metal. Blinking rapidly, I try to focus, squinting against the harsh sunlight.

Where the hell am I?

I sit up slowly, an unsettling weight settling in my chest. My limbs feel strangely light... too light. And then I notice it—my hands. Small. Frail.

A sinking realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

This isn’t my body.

No. This... this was me, from years ago—when I was still a kid.

“What the…?”

Before I can process it, a voice cuts through my confusion.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

I turn my head sharply to find a girl standing nearby. Her soft pink hair catches the sunlight, framing her youthful face.

I freeze. My breath hitches.

Machi.

From Hunter x Hunter.

My heart pounds. No way. This can’t be real. Am I dreaming? Hallucinating? Or... did I really get isekai’d?

A sudden beep breaks my train of thought. A blue panel materializes before my eyes, floating in midair.

[SYSTEM ACTIVATED.]

I stare at it, my pulse quickening. This is... a game system? Like the ones in all those isekai novels? I take a shaky breath and force myself to focus.

Machi is still staring at me, her brows furrowed.

“I, uh... I was enjoying the sun,” I blurt out awkwardly, my mind still racing to make sense of everything.

She blinks. “Enjoying the sun? In this heat?”

I glance around and realize she's right. The air is thick, suffocating, the temperature scorching.

"...Right. Maybe not the best idea," I mutter, hopping down from the pile of junk. My feet hit the ground with a dull thud.

Machi watches me warily. “You’re weird,” she finally says.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," I reply, brushing off my clothes. I turn to leave, feeling the weight of her gaze lingering behind me.

“Wait!” she calls out suddenly. I glance back.

"Do you want to watch a cartoon show? Chrollo just finished dubbing it," she offers, her tone almost hopeful.

Cartoon show...? Right, the DVD dubbing. A vague memory stirs in my mind.

“No thanks.”

Her expression falters. “B-but everyone is gathering. Chrollo and the others will be sad if you’re not there.”

I hesitate, my brow furrowing. What kind of relationship did this body have with them?

“There’s... something I need-. I have to do,” I say finally.

Machi looks disappointed but doesn’t push further. She simply nods. “Alright... I guess.”

As I walk away, I finally turn my attention back to the floating panel. The blue screen flickers, displaying several options:

- Shop: Buy items using currency.

- Status: Displays capabilities, stats, and progress.

- Quests: Missions for earning rewards.

- Learning Videos: Skill tutorials and guides.

Simple enough to understand. But one thing is clear— need to leave Meteor City as soon as possible.

No attachments. No bonds.

The Phantom Troupe’s fate is sealed, even if the manga didn’t show it explicitly. And I have no plans of sticking around to see it unfold firsthand.

---

~♡~

“So... (Name) isn’t coming?”

Chrollo’s voice is soft, but there’s a note of disappointment underneath. His dark eyes linger on Machi, who lowers her gaze and nods reluctantly.

“Why not?” Pakunoda steps forward, confusion flickering across her features.

“She said there’s something she has to do,” Machi replies, her tone hesitant.

"Oh..."

A brief silence stretches between them.

Chrollo’s lips curve into a small, unreadable smile. "Well, maybe it's something important. Something... urgent." He glances at the church where the other children are already gathering, excitement in their eyes.

“She’ll watch it once she’s done," he adds, almost as if convincing himself.

But as the evening fades into night, one thing becomes painfully clear.

You never came.

---

To be continued...

note:

Timeline is when Sarasa is still alive.