#but its better than my last versions of this chapter

[phantomknights]

cross dimensions chap 3 is up

[lesbiangiratina]

… there are 2 testament centric chapters id love to scan even just for my own enjoyment but the thought of taking these books apart makes me sad. Maybe if i just. Squish it down hard enough itll look okay. I just want to have new testament images

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)wife

Chapter IV: Never Going Back Again 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond answers your performance of 'Dreams' by singing yet another newly composed song during rehearsal. This time, you can't contain the rage he elicits within you.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, smut, hatesex, rough sex, oral (m. receiving), spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, P in V, choking, degradation, manhandling

Word count: 4880 A/N: Thank you always to my love Justine, @theoneeyedprince for helping me by having a look at the edited version 🩵

Bringing Aemond’s old hoodie on tour feels like harbouring a shameful secret.

You’d felt weak enough when you spontaneously brought it with you when you moved out of your shared flat. And when you realised it was the only thing that could make you fall asleep any time anxiety weighed heavy on your chest.

So when you packed your suitcases to tour the Seven Kingdoms, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to leave it behind. But the shame of still needing it; still needing the memory of him, resulted in you storing it away somewhere no one would see it, least of all yourself. 

Until you sought it out. 

You wake up still curled on the side of the large bed, Aemond’s scent encompassing you.

How long will his smell linger on the fabric?

Soon, it’d disappear and you’d have no trace of him left. 

You reach Winterfell the next day. Luckily, you’re allowed a small break before the next performance, leaving you some time to explore the city and rehearse with the band. 

You spend your day sightseeing in the capital of the North; grabbing coffee with Helaena and window shopping around the bustling city centre. 

Despite the quick friendship you had established after joining the band, your relationship with Helaena has become greatly strained following your separation from Aemond. 

You know she hates the tension and the fighting. She has a habit of closing off and retreating whenever she feels uncomfortable, and having two band members in an infected conflict is not something she finds easy to navigate. You still love her like a sister, and you know Aemond holds her dear as well, so you try to spare her from it all, even if your attempts aren’t always successful. 

“We’ll be late for the rehearsal if we don’t leave soon”, you tell her as she’s eyeing a pair of sparkly firefly hair clips. She nods absentmindedly in response and picks up the clips, 

“I know, I know. Let me just get these”, she answers with a smile, heading towards the register.  

Helaena pays for the newest addition to her endless collection of insect trinkets, and you leave for the venue you’ll be performing at in two days; Winterfell Arena. 

This is going to be your biggest show yet. 

When your management booked the arena you were scared of not selling enough tickets to justify such a large space. But you’d been pleasantly surprised by the interest shown in the North. The last tickets had just sold, and it would be your largest audience to date. 

Entering the arena, you’re taken aback by its sheer size. You can’t believe you’ll be performing in a place like this, and to a sold-out crowd. You’re suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of nauseating anxiety. Will you be able to give them a worthy show? 

Will you be good enough? 

The constant self doubt that plagues your mind had been easier to handle when Aemond was by your side. He’d always been your biggest supporter; chasing away all your inner demons with his reassurance. 

He always made you feel better. 

Now, you were left alone and with nothing but doubt keeping you company. You miss having someone to soothe you by your side. 

Miss having someone to confide in. 

To rely on. 

The stage’s larger than any you’d ever been on before. You try to shake the nerves taking over you, but it’s hard not to get overwhelmed by the size of the hall. It’s intimidatingly large. 

You and Helaena begin to set up and prepare for tonight’s rehearsal, and Jace, Erryk and Aemond drop in one by one to join. You’d expected the latter to have his usual gorgeous companion on his arm, but he surprises you by showing up alone, five minutes after the time you’d all agreed upon and without saying a word. 

It isn’t like him to show up late, and you can feel the stress radiating from him, though he stays quiet. 

You know he’s been working on yet another song for the new album, and today he mentioned in the group chat that he’d like to play it for you during rehearsal. 

He’d sent you the name; ‘Never Going Back Again’. 

Is it about his relationship with his grandfather?

When Aemond told Otto Hightower that he wanted to quit working for him at Oldtown Solicitors in order to fully focus on his music career, his grandfather had nearly cut all ties to him. 

In a particularly weak moment, he’d even given you a call, insinuating that you were a bad influence on his grandson,

“I let him entertain this silly band for the sake of Helaena and Aegon! I even let him do a minor in history at the university I financed. And yet, he meets you and suddenly wants to give that all up to record an album? Talk some sense into him, won’t you?” 

Aemond had been furious when you told him about the call from Otto, making it clear to his grandfather that he’d never go back to working with him or in property law. He’d been prepped and groomed since birth; the perfect heir to carry on the Hightower legacy. Not as flaky or unreliable as his older siblings. Always the dutiful son. 

Aemond moves across the stage to grab his bag, pulls out a water bottle and places a tablet on his tongue.  

You realise he must’ve been late due to the pain of his eye injury flaring up again. Despite his recent awful behaviour, you can’t help but feel bad for him. 

When you first started dating, you’d been scared of asking about his eye. Evidently, it was a sore subject, and you didn't want to pry. Eventually, he told you about the car accident he was in when he was 10. 

He’d been in the backseat of the family's car with his nephews, engaging in a petty fight. As the driver tried to de-escalate the situation in the back, he lost control of the vehicle, crashing it into a large tree by the side of the road. 

The only casualty from the crash was Aemond’s left eye. A piece of metal from the car had come loose during the crash and flung back through the window, creating a scar going from his forehead down to his cheek; robbing him of his vision and permanently causing him pain. 

When you started dating, you made sure to learn his routine and preferences, to make it easier and less unbearable for him when the nerve damage caused intense pain to shoot through his head. 

You still remember. 

He likes the room cool. He always lies on top of the duvet on his back, letting the chill air sooth his aching skin. Unless you’re there. Then he used to lie on his stomach next to you; one armed wrapped around your waist and his head on your chest. You’d thread your fingers through his silky hair with the softest of touches, stroking his head until the pain killers drag him into slumber. 

It had been in one of those moments that he’d first told you he loves you. 

You look over at Aemond as he makes his way towards his guitar, picking it up and experimentally playing a few chords to check the volume. 

Did he manage the pain by himself now? 

Or did he lay his head on Alys’ chest, hugging her? 

Does she run her fingers through his hair? 

Does she let them trace the outlines of the beautiful sharpness of his face? 

Over his cupid's bow, nose bridge, cheekbones?

Does he lay his head on her chest, letting the drum of her heart lull him to sleep? 

Does he allow her to come as close?

You go through the set list, discussing the order of both your older and newer songs. 

Jace, Helaena and Erryk all praise your performance of Dreams, asking you to perform it each night moving forward. 

Helaena, standing next to her brother, leans towards him and mumbles, “Your back-up vocals really make the chorus shine”, while offering him a gentle smile. 

Aemond replies with a hum and moves to stand by one of the microphones with his guitar in hand. His usual stoic yet quietly commanding self returns when he starts to play without any explanation or introduction, fingers plucking the strings with precision. He sings, 

‘She broke down and let me in’ 

During recording, you’d briefly glanced at the words in the recording studio, huffing a laugh at his audacity. They definitely sting more on stage. Your face turns hot and you can’t decipher if it’s from humiliation or anger. Maybe both. 

He really is a dick. 

‘Made me see where I’ve been’

‘Been down one time’

‘Been down two times’ 

‘Never going back again’ 

Any sympathy you’d felt for him; any longing you’d felt for him, vanishes as he sings. Another song about you, this time in the form of the final nail in the coffin that is your marriage. 

And he had the nerve to ask you not to perform Dreams anymore? 

‘You don’t know what it means to win’

‘Come ‘round and see me again’ 

Back at the hotel room, rage makes your entire body feel hot and restless. 

How fucking dare he? 

Never going back again? 

First, he’d sung about how you broke his heart and now, he paints you like you’re the plague; like a sickness to avoid. 

All you want to do is call Alysanne and spew out all the pent up emotions storming inside of you. 

You place your phone on the nightstand and roughly shove the charger inside, fingers tapping furiously to call Alysanne.

She doesn’t answer and you call her again. Still no answer. 

You’re so restless you can’t sit down, irritation making your skin feel hot and hands tingly. 

What if you asked him to not play the song? That’s what he’d asked of you. 

Unable to stay still, you grab your key card and shove your feet into a pair of white hotel slippers, heading down to where you know Aemond’s hotel room is. 

You reach the door and knock on it firmly while your feet shuffle from side to side impatiently. 

You're not sure what you’ll tell him, the rage inside guiding you instead of your senses. 

Aemond opens the door, face unreadable and eyebrows raised in question at your sudden visit. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of green joggers and your gaze briefly flickers down to take in his shirtless stature. 

“Really? Never going back?”, you question and move in closer. The heavy hotel door shut behind you, and suddenly it’s only the two of you, in his room. 

He neither answers nor moves, and you’re standing so close that your clothed chest bumps into his naked one. You crane your neck to look into his eyes. His stern demeanour doesn’t quite reach them, gaze softer than you’d imagined. 

Anger still guides you, and a pathetically spiteful idea prompts you to slowly kneel before him, still standing impossibly close and eyes never straying away from his.

“Not even if I do this?”

Your face is level with his crotch as you look up at him. He’s always loved this sight; you at his mercy. But not now. Now he’s at yours. 

You slowly lean forward and press your lips against the exposed skin of his torso, fleetingly kissing him right by his happy trail, just above the hem of his trousers. 

You’ve missed the soft smoothness of his flesh; a tender veil over the hard muscles hiding underneath. So contradictingly beautiful. 

Aemond stays unmoving, eyes staring at you with a scorching intensity. You know he won’t stop you. If he didn’t want this, he’d have let you know by now. 

So you press another kiss right under his navel, and feel sickly delighted by the barely-there shiver vibrating from him. 

Slowly, and with light kisses to his stomach, you reach for the hem of his joggers, letting your hands softly pull down the fabric and reveal his manhood. He’s already half hard, and you have to bite back a smile. 

Never going back again? Yeah right. 

Your eyes never leave his as your delicate kisses trail downward, towards his cock, yet never making direct contact with it. 

His face still is as impassive as always, but he’s now grown so hard his tip is leaking precum, fuelling your actions. 

You haven’t been this close to him in months and it almost feels intoxicating; his smell encircling you. 

You want to see him lose control; you need to see him lose control. Need to hear him beg for you. 

Plead for you. 

Come for you. 

You squeeze your things together at the thought, arousal making an ache drum between your legs. It’s an addictive thought; imagining him pleading for you. Begging for you. Needing you. 

You want him to want you. 

He still hasn’t moved, or said anything. You take his silence as an invitation to continue. 

Want him to want you. 

Still locking eyes, you slowly graze your lips over his skin until your mouth is by the base of his cock. You know he won’t give you the satisfaction of letting you in on what he’s feeling, but that’s alright. 

You’ll force it out of him. 

Your hand travels up his leg and moves to grip his cock, now so hard it’s aching to be touched. You work in long, firm strokes, just the way he likes. 

The staring contest continues. You know his stoic appearance is meant to frighten you, but you know him too well. You can see the cracks appearing already. 

Eager to push him further, you slowly open your mouth and let your tongue out, gently swiping it over his leaking tip to collect the glistening beads of precum. You feel the proof of his arousal on your tongue, and you see his gaze flicker down to observe it in your mouth as you unhurriedly close your mouth and swallow. 

He stays silent, but you see his jaw twitch. 

He likes it. 

Growing bolder, you move your lips back to the tip of his cock, kissing it in a far too innocent manner before wrapping your lips around him and sucking firmly.

In the briefest of moments, his eyebrows knit together and he closes his eyes.

The satisfaction you feel at his clear arousal goes straight to the thrumming between your legs, and you briefly squeeze your thighs together. You move your mouth lower, placing feather-light kisses down his length before gently swiping your tongue over his balls. 

You can hear the restraint in each laboured breath he huffs through his nose. 

Your soft lips envelop one of his balls, and your hands continue to stroke his length. You know he loves this; loves when you get down on your knees and worship him. 

You let your tongue massage every inch as it rests in your mouth, and when you let out a moan, pure theatrics to make him succumb to you, Aemond’s jaw goes slack and his lips part uncontrollably. 

Just a little further and you’ll break him. 

You’ll win. 

Perhaps the look in your eyes let him in on your scheme. 

Perhaps he’s too close to continue. 

But when he grabs you by the hair and yanks you off of him, it takes you by surprise. 

“About to cum, baby?”, you mockingly ask.  

He clicks his tongue and grabs your forearms to pull you up so you're standing in front of him again. 

Still not saying a word, he tries so hard to appear stoic, but you can see the storm brewing within him. A sudden push to your shoulders causes you to stumble backward and land on Aemond's soft hotel bed. 

“Let’s see how fucking wet you get from sucking off the man you hate”

His voice is both calm and taunting at once. His hands come up to the sides of your leggings, pulling them down with force, taking your underwear with them.

You know you’re wet, but you really don’t want him to know that. 

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

You try to press your legs together, but one of his large hands finds its place on your mound and cups it perfectly as one of his fingers slides down between your folds to meet the silky wetness there. The fact that his hand seems to fit against you perfectly, like two puzzle pieces, amplifies your desire. And rage. 

“Having my balls in your mouth made you that wet, huh? Still so dirty, baby”, he teases, emphasis on the pet name to match your previous mock. 

You let out a yelp as his hand briefly leaves you to land a quick smack on your exposed clit. His cocksure expression flashes by before he grabs your hips again to place you on your stomach, bare ass receiving a smack as well. 

He works quickly, sitting down next to you on the bed and pulling you towards him. He places your middle on his lap, and lets his hand come down to land another smack on your asscheek. 

His hand stays on your soft skin, lingering a bit longer than you’d anticipated, before travelling down between your thighs to meet your neglected centre. 

“You like that too, don’t you?”, he asks as he catches your clit between his fingers and press harshly. 

It stings. 

It feels good. 

You press your lips together to prevent any sounds from escaping, racking your brain for a way to gain back control. 

Aemond’s fingers begin to draw firm circles and your mind starts to feel foggy from want. Without thinking, your hips begin to move in tandem with his fingers. He chuckles. 

“I know you inside out”, he triumphs, but as you move your hips, you can feel how achingly hard he is beneath you. 

You know him too. 

You pull away from his lap, sitting back on your haunches on the bed, and remove your cardigan, then your tank top, and finally your bra. 

You manage to startle Aemond by your sudden move, and you seize your chance at dominance by placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing him down, so he lies on his back on the plush, white sheets of the hotel bed. 

You straddle him, and move one hand down to pull down his sweatpants once again. Revealing his cock, you encircle him softly before placing his length between your folds, dragging your wetness all over him. You bite back a moan as his cock pushes on your clit again and again, hips move back and forward. 

Aemond seems lost for words as well, undoubtedly enjoying you moving against him. 

His seeing eye flickers wildly to take in your naked body, damaged eye not able to keep up with the rapid movements. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink. You momentarily feel mesmerised by his beauty. 

The realisation that you’ve missed seeing him like this, missed being with him like this, pierces your heart painfully and your hips still. 

You don’t want to think about the sadness inside. You want to break him. Like he broke you. 

Up until now, it’s been a constant fight for dominance; a never-ending back and forth. But you got him now.

“Beg me to fuck you”, you command, voice slightly out of breath. Aemond’s eyes are fixed on your heaving, naked chest.  

“What?”, he questions, like he doesn’t understand what you’re asking.

“Beg”, you repeat, voice more demanding as your breathing calms, 

“Beg me to fuck you, Aemond”

Though confusion had briefly flashed over his face, it’s now set in fury. 

His eyes narrow.

Without answering you, he places one hand on your shoulder and another on your waist, manhandling your body down on his cock in one swift motion. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, much to Aemond’s satisfaction. He grins victoriously. 

Fuck, it’s been so long. 

He begins bucking up into you in an instance. The firm hold he has on your body feels bruising, and his fingers dig into your flesh meanly so that you won’t move. 

He angles his hips, and each stroke touches your sweet spot. You bite down on your lip to hinder the moans that are fighting to escape. He’s essentially fucking you on his cock, and it feels so good you can’t think clearly anymore. 

“Come on, I know you can’t keep quiet”

He pushes your body down harder, bucking his hips up faster. You can’t help but move with him, it feels so fucking good. 

You’re still not going to come. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction. He’s gonna come. 

You clench down on his length each time he slides in and you see the tension in his jaw; the vein bulging out at the side of his neck. 

Maybe if you push him just a little bit further? 

“Oh, Aemond”, you moan as you throw your head back, tightening your muscles again, gripping him like a vice. 

He’s always loved getting praised. 

The hand he’d placed on your shoulder moves to your throat, engulfing the entirety of it. His fingers press down on the sides, 

“Shut up” 

His grip tightens. The movement of your hips begin to falter as the restricted blood flow to your head amplifies your pleasure. You bite your lip harder not to moan. 

He knows exactly how to get you. 

He continues to fuck up into your dripping cunt, ignoring your change in pace. Each stroke of his cock within your walls feels like pure ecstasy; like sparks of sheer pleasure shooting through your body. 

His expression is infuriatingly smug and you realise you must look completely blissed out as he uses your body. 

You feel the familiar tightening in your lower stomach, the sign that your peak is approaching rapidly. 

No no no, he can’t win! 

You pull away from the grip he has on you, abruptly getting off him, internally mourning the pleasure you rob yourself of. 

He needs to come. He needs to break first. 

You sit next to where he’s lying on his back, hand moving down so that you can work his length again. 

Aemond catches on to your scheme quickly and uses his strength to push you away, manhandling you so your face’s down in the mattress and ass exposed. 

He pulls on one cheek, admiring your wet and wanting centre. When he shoves back inside with an exaggerated tut, you can’t take it anymore; the pleasure’s just too much.

His touch feels too good, no matter how harsh it is. 

You try to push your face as far as possible into the bed, hoping Aemond can’t hear the moans you can’t contain any longer. 

The loud smacks of his hips against your backside and the lewd, wet sounds coming from your cunt fill the room. 

It’s so aggressively erotic. 

One of his hands finds your clit and as he starts massaging it with vigour, his other hand moves towards your head. 

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back so you are facing him. The grip hurts; like a thousand little needles assaulting your scalp. 

“You’re gonna come, I know it. Don’t you fucking dare not look me in the eye when you do”

You’re stuck in his painful grip, yet your orgasm’s racing towards you, making you clench down on his length and moan louder and louder, no longer able to hide the effect he has on you. 

The hand in your hair moves down to grab your breast roughly, nipple pinched between his fingers. You find it hard to keep your body up as pleasure makes it feel like you're floating, but Aemond’s arms around you makes it impossible for you to move. His face moves to press against yours; cheek to cheek, 

“When you sing your silly little songs about what a player I am, remember that no one else can make you feel as good as I do”

And you’re gone. The orgasm hits you so hard you almost black out. It makes your entire body jerk uncontrollably, and if Aemond hadn’t been holding you, you’d be on the floor. 

He keeps fucking your through your orgasm, breathing heavily and grunting at the intense way your walls contract around him. 

As the movements of his hips turn sloppy and frantic, you feel his face move to press between your shoulder blades, arms still holding you tightly, like he’s hugging you from behind. 

Or trying to crush you. 

You can’t decide which. 

You stay like that for a few moments. The room is quiet, save for your shared heavy breathing. You’re suddenly aware of the close proximity between the two of you and feel too exposed, regret storming inside you like in icy waves.  

Shit, what have you done?

Aemond loosens his grip around you and lowers you down on the bed much gentler than how he’d touched you before. 

You stay on your stomach, burying your face in the bed as you feel Aemond shuffle behind you, softly tracing a hand down your back before getting up and making his way towards the adjacent bathroom. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Hearing him turn on the faucet, you quickly get up from the bed. 

You have to get out before he comes back. 

You frantically look for your clothes, scattered all over the hotel room floor. Trying to be as quick as you can be feels impossible when your legs still feel far wobbly, and your mind way too fuzzy, to cooperate.  

You hear Aemond turn off the faucet as you pull on your leggings and underwear. You can’t find your bra, and you don’t even bother looking for it before pulling on your tank top and cardigan hurriedly. 

You just need to get away. 

Away from Aemond. 

You step into your slippers and dart out the front door as you hear him emerge from the bathroom. 

Not patient enough to wait for the elevator, you head towards the emergency exit and climb the two stories up to your room. 

As soon as you're inside, you toss the hotel card key on the desk by the window and throw yourself on the bed, body jolting from the force. 

You want to cry. 

You want to scream. 

You want to go to sleep and realise this was all just a fucked up dream. 

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, now fully charged and with a few messages from Alysanne, asking you how you are and if you’d gone to the cafe she’d recommended by Winterfell Central Station. 

You press her name and the small telephone icon, hoping she’ll pick up. 

“Hi honey, you okay?”, she answers, voice evidently concerned from your sudden call. 

You usually stick to texting, or pre-scheduled face-time dates. 

“I fucked up”, you say, barely above a whisper. You hope that she’ll know what happened without you actually having to say the words. You don’t want to speak it into existence. 

“Did you kill him?”, she jokes and you let out a hollow laugh. 

“Worse”, you say, and Alysanne sighs on the other end.

“Was it good?”, she asks after a long pause, making you let out another snort. 

“What do I do now, Aly? I was just going to push him a little and now-”

“That’s your problem. You always want to get a reaction out of him. What happened to just focusing on yourself?”

Her words feel patronising, like you’re being scolded by your parents. Yet you know she is right. You stay silent and mentally search for a reply; any excuse for your behaviour. 

“Yeah”, you sigh in resignation. 

You know you fucked up; that you’ve acted childish and petty. Still, the satisfied afterglow of experiencing the best orgasm you’ve had in months leaves you feeling a bit less anxious. 

Alysanne tries to distract you by asking about Winterfell, the tour, and what you’re planning on wearing for the big show tomorrow. 

It feels good to talk to a friend without holding anything back. Even if you appreciate Helaena’s company immensely, you know she’s being pulled between you and Aemond, and you’d rather not add to her suffering. 

As Aly tells you about the guy she went on a date with last night, your phone buzzes. 

You briefly glance at your screen, ready to swipe the notification away, when you notice it’s an email from your solicitors office. 

You say a quick goodbye to Aly, open the email and quickly scan through the overly formal text. Your eyes flicker over the screen, taking in what’s written. 

…finalised… 

…shared assets… 

There’s a PDF at the bottom of the email. You click on it, seeing the document you’d left for Aemond in your flat over three months ago. The empty space you’d left next to your hurried signature is now filled in, reading; 

Aemond Targaryen. 

A/N: Thank you for reading 🫶 If you wonder about if he signed the papers right after she left his hotel room; it’s a pdf with his signature, I imagine he actually signed it before leaving for the tour and it just reached her solicitors now.

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXVII

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I won't lie, I'm proud of this chapter, it's better than the last one which I'm not completly satisfied with. I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

You gasped as your soul came back inside your body. You couldn’t help but feel fear sipping through your body, making you stand up quickly. You felt like something was coming toward you, at a racing speed.

You looked at your shadow which was frowning, staring at the entrance, her form being bigger and bigger, her growing presence overwhelming all the room. Your breathing was getting quicker and quicker, what was going on?

You tried to talk with Legba but you were too panicked to be able to summon a tangible link. You rushed into the kitchen as you felt another presence watching you. You took a knife and waited with your shadow at your side. It was snarling and growling, staying protectively near you. 

You flinched when your shadow rushed toward something, making you freeze. You waited, your grip on the blade showing no sign of weakness. You waited before seeing your shadow coming back with its usual hideous smile. You tilted your eyes, you couldn’t feel the presence… What you could feel was…

“ Alastor?”

You went into the living room where Alastor’s shadow was looking around, everywhere. It stopped when it saw you and rushed toward you, caging you in its embrace with his horrific smile. You patted its head with a relieved smile.

“ Good boy…” You watched as it beamed before it latched toward your own shadow and both of them began their usual banter. You sat on the sofa, calming your nerves. If Alastor’s shadow was here, it certainly meant he felt something like you did. But it also meant Alice and Alyzée were alone without protection… 

You called the two shadows to you which both went toward you, waiting for your commands. You tilted your head, crossing your arms against your chest, your finger tapping against your arms.

“ I don’t think I can manage to send my own shadow so far away from me, so you need to go back to Alice and Alyzée.” you said, sighing when you saw Alastor’s shadow fuzzing with anger, his smile dropping into a snarl. It moved toward you and wrapped its hand around your ankle, smiling once more. You pouted, it seemed like Alastor had decided that his priority would be you.

You looked at your shadow which was tugging Alastor’s shadow’s hair. Maybe you could try to send your own shadow..

“ Do you think you can protect our friends ?” you asked, ignoring Alastor’s shadow frown. Your shadow smiled hideously at you, nodding eagerly. You sended her to your friend and as soon as your shadow was out of your property, you fell on the sofa, your eyes closed.

You couldn’t move. It was a strange feeling, it was like you were watching from someone else's eyes. Your own body couldn’t move, you needed to be so concentrated to keep your shadow moving to Alice’s position.  How could Alastor manage to do his daily life when his shadow was always attached to Alyzée or you? 

You felt the Alastor’s shadow squeezed your ankle, like an encouraging gesture. If you could have, you would have smiled at it. It was oddly cute, it seemed like a more twisted version of Alastor when he was younger.

You looked through your shadow’s eyes which were already at Alice’s side. Your friends were talking with a woman about God. You tried to see if the man who watched you  was around but it seemed like he was gone. Well, you panicked for nothing…

You looked at the lady, she was kind of cute, holding a Bible against her chest, explaining something to your friends. It’s when you saw Alice and Alyzée’s uncomfortable face that you decided to listen to what the lady was saying.

“ We must fight those people who go against God’s will. Some women fancies other women, how disgusting.”

Ah.

Well, that wasn’t a pleasant conversation at all.  You looked around, maybe you could make something happen so the unpleasant lady would back off from your friends. You looked through your shadow eyes, looking around. 

You didn’t want Alice to support the lady’s yapping more than she already indulged. You saw a group of men, chatting on the other side of the road, one holding a dog by his leash, but the dog was staring in your direction. The dog was wagging his tail lazily, seeming to look in your directions.

Could animals see the spirits ?

You asked your shadow to move toward the dog, wanting to test your theory and you smiled when the dog barked at your shadow, his tail wagging energetically. That was interesting information… You looked toward Alice and Alyzée, going back toward them as the two women were looking at the dog who was making noises.

You giggled but then froze when you saw the lady looking at you, seeming paler than she was a minute ago. She jerked her head toward the dog, before trying to come back to her discussion with your friends. Did… Did she see your shadow ? You needed to find out if she could see you, then you would know how to act. 

You forced your shadow to approach the lady who clenched her Bible harder against her chest. You could feel your shadow smiling down on the poor woman, in its usual horrific way. You smirked when you saw the woman looking at your shadow.

You got her, now what should you do? Follow her or stay with your friends in case something happens?

You turned around when you heard a panting noise coming from behind you. You turned around and saw Victor, catching his breath as he looked at Alice and Alyzée with a tired smile.

“ Hha… Alastor… told me to fetch you.” Victor said to your friend with a friendly smile.

Once again, your husband was just… perfect with his timing.

The lady ran away from your friends who seemed shocked. You demanded your shadow to follow the woman which it gladly did. As your shadow was following the woman, you felt your own body getting tired. How exhausting that exercise was! How could Alastor manage it? The woman ran for ten minutes before going inside a building. You watched as your shadow followed her, seeming to have much fun. 

The shadow entered the building, which seemed to be abandoned. It looked around, once again, its childish curiosity making it hard not to find it cute. It looked at a dirtied doll before going after the woman. You didn’t know where she went but it shouldn’t be hard to find her. 

You could only hear noise and see when you were inside your shadow, so you were a little confused when it moved toward a room with excitement. You looked inside and saw a.. was that a lamb? Your shadow moved toward it, touching the dead animal with morbid fascination. What was a lamb doing here..?  The room was dark, you couldn’t see anything but the lamb in the middle of the room. There was so much blood…

“ We got you.”

Your shadow turned around, snarling as a man was standing in front of the entrance of the room. 

Fuck.

You commanded your shadow to attack the man. You didn’t want to lose this time,  and furthermore, this man gave you the same vibes as the stalker who attacked you last time. You needed to see his face. 

The man avoided your shadow attacks with strange precision. You let your shadow play with him, letting him get away before trying to reach for him once more, keeping an evil smile on its face. You were trying to see the man's face, but because of the cloat he was wearing it was even more difficult with the darkness in this room.

Wait… Didn’t he say.. We got you..?

You felt your shadow snarl in pain when you heard a feminine voice chanting something. You squint your eyes, trying to see where the voice was coming from. You watched as your shadow tried to run away but it seemed like it was caged between an invisible shield. You looked around and saw with incomprehension something on the floor, around your shadow making it impossible for it to run away. Was that..Salt?

You looked up when the man lit a candle making you capable of seeing around you. The walls around you were gray but you could see blood dripping on it. You frowned as your shadow tried to make itself bigger, snarling at the man in front of it, banging against the shield.

“ Oh lord, you were right…”

The voice came behind the man and then you saw the woman you were after. Her Bible was opened and she was looking at your shadow with disgust and fear. You could feel anger swirling inside your belly, how dared she look at you that way? 

“ Yes, I saw her thanks to the Lord. We need to get rid of it.”

What was going on…? You looked as the woman began to read her bible, chanting something you couldn’t understand. You looked as your shadow began to snarl in pain, its body bending in awkward shape, its hand trying to keep the noise from coming inside its ears. 

You felt helpless, you couldn’t do anything but watch as your shadow seemed to be burned alive. You didn’t know why, but you felt foreign energy going inside of you, you knew you were upset and yet you didn’t feel any emotion. The man watched as your shadow was hissing in pain with a satisfied smile. 

You stared at the salt keeping your shadow caged. You could.. make it go away. It seemed like your shadow was the only thing being affected by the chanting. You closed your eyes, trying so hard to raise your hand. You could feel your own body in your house, moving like you were doing right here. Come on… Just a little push…

You wanted to use your telekinesis on the book or the salt, to break the barrier. You inhaled before energy busted out of you, making the woman fall backward and send the salt away, breaking the shield. You shouted in your mind at your shadow to run, to go back home at your side right now.

The man tried to keep your shadow but it snarled with pure fury, clawing at the man’s face before rushing out of the building, running back home. 

You opened your eyes with difficulty, you needed to see your shadow. Was it okay..? You sat up slowly, Alastor’s shadow trying to help you with a worried frown. You looked around you and frowned when you saw furniture on the ground. Did you use your power near your shadow but also here…? You patted the shadow’s head before jerking your head to the door, seeing your shadow coming home, cuddling its arms against itself.

Alastor’s shadow rushed toward yours, looking at what was wrong with your shadow. You walked toward them, crouching in front of them. Your shadow looked like half of its face had been taken off. You grimaced as your shadow kept a frown on its face, even with Alastor’s shadow trying to cheer it up. 

“ Let me heal you…”

You yelped when both of the shadows snarled at you with anger. You blinked at their reaction.

“ What? You don’t want me to heal you?”

“ And they are right, my love.” 

You turned your face toward the door and smiled at Alastor who was clearly irritated. He walked toward your shadow and looked at its injury. You didn’t need him to talk to know he wanted to know what was going on. You told him everything that happened, watching as his body tensed as you explained what happened in the abandoned building.

“ Mhn..We need answers. Kalfu, come here.”

“ Papa Legba, would you please join us?”

You watched as the two spirits were leaning comfortably against the wall. Kalfu was smirking, it seemed like he was enjoying himself. Legba was looking at you with his usual warm expression. You stood up with Alastor and everyone went into the kitchen.

“ I have questions. Would you betray us?” Alastor asked, drinking the coffee you made him.

“ Alastor!”

“ No offense taken, little lady.” Papa Legba said with a genuine smile. “ What is a betrayal for you? If you are asking if I will give others an access to the spiritual realm, as long as they give me a sacrifice, I will.” You looked as Alastor’s smile twitched.

You frowned at his answer.

“ Then, if I fight against someone who works with you… How are we going to deal with it? Would you tell our secret to them?”

“ Why would I do that? I will give access to a spirit they want to work with, nothing more.” Legba tilted his head, watching you calmly. “ If you were to fight with someone I helped, I won’t intervene, it is only your control over your powers that will help you.”

“ But I know my wife is your protégée, right?” Alastor asked with his usual smile. You watched as Legba looked at Alastor, staying silent for a moment. What was a protégée exactly..? You asked your husband who explained it to you. “ A protégée my dear, is when a Spirit is fond of a human who tries to reach for them. Like a mentor student relationship. The spirit decided to be more present, without needing to ask for a sacrifice each time they are called depending on the situation.”

You beamed at Papa Legba who was looking at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“ Am I your protégée ?” you asked with a big smile. You didn’t know why but you saw Legba as your grandpa and knowing he was watching over you was comforting. The spirit smiled, sighing before patting your head.

“ I guess you are.”

You smiled at Alastor who smirked at you. You looked at Kalfu who was looking in your direction when he felt your gaze on him. He smirked at you still trying after all those years to make you scared. You weren’t afraid of Kalfu anymore but you knew he could be so scary sometimes, so you didn’t want to push your luck.

“ Is Kalfu’s protégée Alastor?” you asked curiously. You flinched when Kalfu roared with a mocking laughter.

“ Ooh, yes he is. But unlike your sweet relationship with Legba, I won’t run to save Alastor’s life. He can save his own, if not, why would I be there? I can help him in other ways, but don’t call me for sweet things like saving his life. Isn't that why you are here, little missy?”

You looked at Alastor who nodded, smirking mockingly at Kalfu. You rolled your eyes, smiling a little. They must  talk about your healing abilities…Talking about healing… You turned your head toward the two shadows and felt sad.

Your shadow was still unmoving even with Alastor’s shadow moving around it, tugging its hair and waiting to see if it would react. It seemed to be more worried each time your shadow wasn’t giving it a proper reaction.

“ How could my shadow be hurted like this?”

You looked at the three men in front of you. Now, you needed to understand what happened in that building. Legba crossed his arms after smoking, his pipe fuming in a smoothing way.

“ Well, you saw it yourself , didn’t you?”

“ What do you mean?” you asked, making a cold chocolate for you.

“It was an offering, aren’t you not used to seeing them now?” Alastor asked, stroking your cheeks. “ From what you told me, the lamb was an offering.” He looked at Legba who nodded. “ Was it for you?”

“I’m more of a rooster man. This offering wasn’t for me.”

You frowned, looking at Kalfu who smirked at you before shaking his head. It wasn’t for him either.

“ Well, they did have a Bible with them, so I’m not surprised either…” you mumbled, drinking your cold chocolate.

“ We can work with christianity.” Legba said with a small smile. You tilted your head, curiously but he didn’t say anything more.  You looked as your husband took your hand, stroking your skin, deep in thoughts. You looked at Legba with a sad smile.

“ Can .. Can you heal my shadow..?”

Legba turned his gaze toward your shadow, still being taken care of by Alastor’s shadow. He stood up and walked toward them, smiling as Alastor’s shadow kept yours against its. Legba touched your shadow, a red energy coming off him. You closed your eyes as the light was getting too strong for you to be able to see what was going on.

After a minute, you blinked your eyes and you smiled as your shadow was moving everywhere, clearing happy to be painless once more. Alastor’s shadow was staring at it before tugging its hair once more and smiled when it saw your shadow running after him in the house. You sighed, relieved. 

You thanked Legba who asked for a rooster in exchange, which you accepted.

“ Then, is it possible for them to work with angels?”

All heads turned toward Alastor. Angels…? You never thought they existed but now, it could be a possibility… Could you compare Papa Legba to an angel? You didn't know how to compare their power… Well, Legba told you the power was held in the person who asked a spirit, so maybe… With a good plan you could take someone who was working with an angel..? How complicated.

“ It is highly possible, even more so if they had a Bible with them.”

“ Mhn, It’s not my favorite hypothesis.” Laughed Kalfu with a smirk, looking at you with a knowing smile. Alastor stared at his spirit, his smile never faltering. “ Now, I have other things to do, if you excuse me.”

You looked as Kalfu vanished from his chair in a dark mist. You looked at Legba who smiled at you, asking you not to forget his rooster before walking away, vanishing behind a wall. You waited a few seconds before looking at Alastor who was sighing, his eyes closed.

You walked toward him and kissed his cheek which made him look at you.

“ Ahh, darling, do you want me to die younger because of stress?” He said as he tugged you on his laps, his arms around your waist. You tilted your head as he kept talking. “ I sended Victor to take care of the girl so you would go back home, and yet… You went into the big bad wolf’s mouth, not even planning something. I taught you better than that, right?” He purred, his lips against your cheek.

You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder.

“ I’m sorry. I was… too excited I think.”

Alastor hummed against your skin as he watched both of your shadows playing with each other. You smiled fondly at the view.

“ Don’t you think they acted like us when we were younger?” you giggled as Alastor’s shadow poked yours on its cheek, making it snarl at it.

“ I think the same… But they are deadlier.” Alastor gave you a sinister smile which made you shiver. You kissed his lips, humming as he kissed you back. You pushed your body against his, singing in bliss when you felt his nails digging into your skin. You whispered against his lips.

“ You don’t feel sick anymore..?” 

“ I was not sick dear, I was just… tired.” he kissed you back before you could answer back, making you chuckle against his lips. You knew that Alastor and you would find those who dared disturbed the peace you created for yourself. 

It’s been so long since you felt another predator was in New Orleans. But you would win, like always.

—-

You were with Alice, at her home. 

It’s been two months since you discovered your new ‘enemies’. You didn’t expect it to put so much mental charge in your mind. You could feel their eyes on you on the street and yet you couldn’t find them. Fortunately, they didn’t show up and didn’t attack you, or Alastor or anyone else. Alastor and you went into the abandoned building, multiple times to search through every floor and you didn't find anything. It felt like they cleaned everything before vanishing.

You’ve been making yourself sick over this. It felt like the danger could happen any time. You were sleeping less, you had nausea and you were getting emotional with the lack of sleep. Sometimes you could cry because Alastor came later than usual and you thought he had been killed by the couple you couldn’t find in this bloody town.

Alastor, seeing your state getting worse, demanded you to stop caring about this and that he would handle it himself, but you shouted at him that you would never let him go alone against two persons that had power which you didn’t know anything about. 

You knew Alastor was getting more worried about you, you could see it in his eyes even when he was smiling like usual. Sometimes it was scaring yourself how you would lose yourself to your nerves. This was the most difficult thing you've ever done.

Killing Alastor’s father  was your first, but it was easy, it happened one night and it was gone, just like all your victims. You would track them down and kill them with Alastor by your side. Now, it felt like you were the prey, but unlike your previous victims, you knew you were being hunted.

You sighed, it’s been going on for two months and you didn’t discover anything, the only thing news was that Baron Samedi was coming to check on you more often. You wondered if Alastor asked him to… Well, when you asked him, Baron Samedi just smiled at you with a knowing look so you guessed it was Alastor’s doing.

“ Fuck it, I’m calling a doctor.”

You turned your head toward Alice, who had a nice small bum which made you smile. She was now six weeks pregnant. Pregnancy looked good on her… Wait, what did she say?

“ No, no need. I’m just… tired.” you sighed, lying on the couch, closing your eyes.

“ You’ve been in this state for more than two weeks. I’m calling our best doctor, don’t move.” She stood up and called her butler. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep but you woke up with a gasp when you felt a touch on your shoulder. You sighed when you saw Alice who was beaming at you with a doctor next to her. You knew she wouldn’t give up, she didn’t know you were using your power most of the time to watch if the couple that attacked you was around… 

Well, let’s just let Alice win this time.

You let the doctor examine you and smirked when he told you seemed very tired. You stared at Alice, with a ‘ I told you so’ gaze. She just snapped her fingers, demanding that you keep your focus on the doctor.

You felt cold around you and frowned when you saw Baron Samedi behind the doctor, staring at him with an amused smile. You tilted your head and gasped when the spirit went inside the doctor's body, making the man faint.

Alice gasped as she touched the man’s shoulder.

“ Mister,are you okay?”

The doctor, which you knew was possessed by Baron Samedi, smiled at her. You could see his eyes were different, you wondered if Alice could see it…

“ I’m doing great. I’m here to tell you what kind of sickness Mrs.Sanglar is having.”

You frowned, was he joking with you? What was he doing–?

“ You are pregnant.”

…

“ What?” Alice and you said in unison.

“ Congratulations, you must be around nine or ten weeks pregnant.” Baron Samedi smiled.

You screamed with Alice, both of you panicking. You stood up, placing your hands on your belly, screaming at Alice who was helding your hands with hers, screaming with you. You needed to calm down, you needed to calm down ! It could be a bad joke of Baron Samedi.

“ Wait, Alice we can’t panic at the same time!” You shouted, trying to calm yourself. You needed to… to calm yourself.

“ You are right. I’m going to panic first, then it’s your turn.” said Alice before screaming, moving around the living room.

You looked at Baron Samedi, still possessing the doctor’s body.

“ Are you joking? It is a nasty joke?” you asked, your voice shaking.

“ No, I promise. It explained your nausea, your emotional state, you didn’t get your period not because of stress but because you are pregnant.”

You sat on the couch, your whole body shaking from excitement, fear and happiness. You were pregnant..? You were going to have a baby..? Alastor and you were going to have a baby…? Oh my God.. 

You gasped when Alice touched your shoulder.

“ I finished panicking, it's your turn.”

You screamed in joy and pure fear once more. Alice hugged you, being mindful of her belly, her eyes getting teary. You didn't know why you began to sob, hugging her against you. You were pregnant… Oh God, oh God!

You needed to see Alastor right now!

You took you things, already asking for someone to take you to Alastor work. Then you stopped yourself, Alice bumping against your back.

“ No, maybe I should do a surprise for him? But will he see it coming ? What do I do ? What if he doesn’t want children, we never really talk about it? Oh, I need to tell Marie, and my mother, and my father! Oh and–” you stopped talking when Alice put her finger on your lips with a genuine smile.

“ Sweetie, deep breath…” 

You closed your eyes and did as she told you, calming yourself. You bit your lips, oh lord, you were pregnant… You opened your eyes, feeling something you never felt in your life. There was a life that was beginning to grow inside you..

“ Now, what do you want to do?” Asked Alice.

“ I want to see Alastor.” you said, your voice calmer than a minute ago.

Alice nodded with a smile and asked one of her drivers to drive you to Alastor’s workplace. You were bouncing on the seat, stroking your belly, still flat for now. You felt like you were in a maze, you felt light but also heavy.

You ran out of the car once it parked. You looked down as you saw your shadow looking at you curiously. You told it to stay silent, watching as it went back to its normal form. 

“ Victor, is Alastor working?” you asked, panting,  when you saw the man in the corridor. He looked at you with a welcoming smile before shaking his head.

“ He is inside but he finished working.”

You thanked him before entering Alastor’s office, and closed the door behind you. You watched as your husband was looking at you with a fond smile. You were breathing hard, which immediately made him stand up with a worried expression even if his smile was still present.

“ Well, darling, you look like you ran from something… or someone? Did you see them?” you smile as his eyes flashed red when he asked you if you ran into the catholic couple. You shook your head as you took his hand and placed it against your cheek.

“ No, no… I… I have good news. Well, I hope it’s going to be good news…”

You watched as Alastor looked at you, confused but let you speak. You kept your gaze on his face,  taking his hand from your cheek to place it against your belly. He tilted his head, confused. He looked so cute like this.

“ I’m pregnant.”

You watched as his eyes widened and his smile dropped, making your heart clenched. Was he not happy..? You waited for him to talk, you knew he always needed to have time with his thoughts but right now you needed him to act right now.

You watched as he kneeled in front of you, staring at your belly with a mix of fascination and confusion. You let him touch your stomach with a soft smile, he looked like a kid again, when he discovered something he never expected to exist. 

“ You… I’ve made you… pregnant?” he asked softly, lifting his head up to watch you. You chuckled as you stroke his cheeks, your voice soft.

“ Yes.. I’m carrying your child.”

“Our child.” he corrected you.

“ Yes… Our child.” You smiled at him, your eyes getting teary. He scooped you in his arms, laughing. 

“ Who would have thought ! There is something… in your belly that we created together…” He stared at you in fascination. He seemed fascinated that you both created something that would be alive.

You kissed him softly and giggled when you felt his shadow touched your belly with curiosity. It was poking at your belly then it went to poked your shadow’s belly who let him do it. Alastor made you sit down before opening the door and asking Victor to bring you a cup of water.

You looked at your belly. You were creating life, after killing so many people. You smiled, in a few months, you would meet your baby, something you and Alastor’s love created. 

You couldn’t wait.

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics @yourdoorisunlocked @phamtasic @karmakillz @holographicage @sarcastic-sourwolf @akuraluna2468 @everwolf-20 @thesunandmoons-blog @songbrita @noraunor @fandomsbookclub @hokkaido97 @catticora @gasiacos

[lasaudade]

𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘, 𝖺 '𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌' 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼. (𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾)

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚  𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 :  Suffering several losses and ongoing, world-renowned tennis champion, Art Donaldson, is beginning to lose hope. After unexpectedly crossing paths with a familiar-looking journalist, Art realizes there could be more at stake than just his career. Will he leave the world he knew behind, or give the game one more shot?

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 : art donaldson x (f) sports journalist!reader.

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : (𝟷𝟾+), second chance romance, angst, fluff, slow-burn.

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 444.

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝/𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 :  none.

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚊 / 𝚗 : Hi, and welcome to my first fanfiction in 10 years! I've written this prologue for now as I write future chapters during my free time. I hope you guys enjoy this story, and I hope Challengers continues to receive the bountiful amounts of love it has been since its release.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    . . .

“I don’t want to do this. I can’t.”

“Should’ve decided that before you became a world championship player.”

The shuddering breath that leaves his nostrils narrowly frees the anxiety coursing through his veins like a racetrack, the dizzying walk down a familiar feeling corridor more nauseating than the last. Art practiced, hard, and to see that it was all for nothing felt like a slap to the face, a rude awakening for a man who had been yearning for the younger version of himself; fresh-faced and ready to take on Stanford— then, the world. What a fucking joke.

He winces instantly as the conference room doors yawn open, dazzling flashes from the multitude of various press outlets waving their cameras in his face, the flurry begging for him to answer trampled questions over the next. He can’t imagine how exhausted he must look, drenched in sweat.

The anticipatory looks of reporters and bloggers, ready to barrage him with inquiries of his ongoing defeats, his future plans to ensure a win: He hated it. He wanted nothing more but to retreat to his hotel room in peace and quiet to reflect on what he could have done better, what he did so wrong. With every step toward the press table, his footing grew heavier than the last, that awful sensation in the pit of his stomach settling, worsening once he sat down.

A mic is placed on him by an assistant, and a reporter emerges amid the sea of people that grow calm. His blue, tired eyes meet theirs.

“Mr. Donaldson.”

“Hi.”

The reporter clears their throat. “I... can only assume this wasn't the result you'd be hoping for— none of us had. I mean, months and months of agonizingly hard training regimens and diets to stick to... I can't fathom how disappointed you must be feeling right now,” 

 A long pause.

“…Why don’t we just start with something simple: What exactly happened out there, today?”

Amongst the quiet whispers and shutter clicks that flash from cameras that stun him, Art Donaldson, the acclaimed savior of tennis is utterly silent; frozen. 

“... Art?”

“...”

He doesn’t utter a word, he doesn't have any to explain why he continued to be a disappointment to not only himself, but to everyone around him. His trainers, his media team, his fans... himself. The deafening loud ringing in his ears finally falls silent when his wings are clipped and he falls back down to earth. Despite it all, the waves of anguish, the disappointment, the embarrassment he feels for those around him... he smiles, glassy-eyed and defeated for the tabloids to see in all his pitiful glory.

“What happened?”

[strongheartneteyam]

I wet you like water but she stained you like blood.

Pairing: widowed!dilf!jake sully x younger!female!human!reader

CW: slight sexual language, can be triggering to some, heartbreak, age gap kink, hurt/no comfort, age gap relationship problems, angst, reader reminiscing (pls tell me if I missed anything) 

So, yeah... I never know when I'm gonna come back with another writing. My hiatus n working periods are all a bit unpredictable lol sorry. Anyways... I literally spent the whole night awake n I was struck by a sudden lightning of creativity early in the morning and I edited this chapter n wrote a bit more, but I still haven't slept at all, so, I apologize if some parts of this make no sense at all. I'll fix it when I can. Hope you guys like it <3 ily guys a whole lot :)) obs: this chapter is a shorter one.

Slightly proofread.

Chapter 4 𓆩♡𓆪

They say all's well that ends well

But I'm in a new hell every time you double-cross my mind

You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would've been fine

And that made me want to die

The idea you had of me, who was she?

A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you

All Too Well - 10 minutes Version (Taylor Swift)

𓆩♡𓆪

It had been 1 year since the last time you saw Jacob Sully. Or Jakey, like you used to call him. The wound never healed. It still throbbed and bled every time you remembered the words he told you that dreadful day. "I think we should stop seeing each other." It felt like you would never get over him. How can one get over such an overpowering, raw feeling? He marked you forever, like a bruise that seemed to never disappear from your skin.

The flashback came like thunder in a storm, haunting your thoughts with a loud pain that echoed through your mind. What you told Jake that night.

“The truth is I love you. The truth is I can't take this anymore. I'm giving you my everything but you don't seem to be doing the same. You're still guarded.” There was a tense period of silence “Jake… I love you. But I don't think you feel the same.”

Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. Maybe if you had kept your mouth shut, he would still be with you.

Ugh!! Stop that, now, (y/n)! Some self love, please? You're better than this. You deserve better.

You tried to convince yourself of that, at least.

The pain was unbearable at times and almost easy to conceal at other times. It depended on how distracted with work or your studies you were. These days you ran to any distraction that could ease the perpetual angst that squeezed your heart inside its hands all the fucking time. It had been like that ever since Jake left you. What were you expecting anyway? You should have known you were never truly loved by Jake. The love of his life was Neytiri and it would always be, alive and walking through Pandora or dead and with Eywa.

It felt beyond weird to have to hear people talking about Jake and have to pretend he was a stranger to you, someone you barely knew, when he had actually left a mark so strong on you, a memory ingrained in your brain, a feeling, a pain buried inside your heart that made you want to scream and hit your head against a wall. That's how much it hurt.

You would never have his body against yours again, warming you up when it was cold, after you spent the whole day in that damn lab, studying Pandoran plants but all you could really concentrate on was how much you missed his reassuring, protective presence. He made you feel safe for the first time in your life. But now he is gone. Just like every single good thing you ever had in your life. But you know what? Maybe your mother was right, maybe love wasn't really something that could ever last forever.

Did Jake ever really make a real effort to be with you? Thinking back, it was extremely easy for him to just come to you and fuck you anytime he felt sad and lonely. What if you had just been a naive, dumb girl all this time? Were you mourning a love that never actually existed? It was always so hard to talk to him about his feelings for you, he never actually let you in, to be honest. All the time you two spent together, you were never able to know if he ever saw you as a partner or just a fuck buddy. 

Oh, but the high… it was worth all the lows. The butterflies in your stomach every time you guys were almost caught fucking in the back of your work room by Norm. Eventually you guys had to tell him about your situationship because, oh well… he already knew what was going on, really. Norm is not a fool or a child. He could add 2 plus 2.

The adrenaline was worth all the tears. And, fuck… you would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

𓆩♡𓆪

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[hbyrde36]

Chapter 1: Under My Skin

Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

Art (coming soon!) by @glitterfang

Beta'd by @penny00dreadful

Rating: E | WC: 5937 | Chapters: 1/2 | AO3 Link

Not for the first time, Eddie was really regretting his decision to book a client on a Friday night, and a new client at that. 

It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, exactly. There were no dates on his calendar, and going out to random bars and clubs on the weekends to look for quick hookups had begun losing its appeal lately.

But it’d been a long week, and he’d much rather have been getting ready to plop down on the couch with Chrissy to split a bottle of red wine while they watched Drag Race, than preparing to do a cover up for some idiot who’d gotten his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his body, only to fall victim to—The Curse. 

Ask any tattoo artist and they’d be the first to tell you, there was no surer way to guarantee a breakup than to ink your significant other’s name on your body forever. 

And yeah, it probably wasn’t fair to judge the guy before they’d even met, but there were only two kinds of people who tended to make that particular mistake—dumbasses, and hopeless romantics. He just kind of assumed his client fell into the former camp, rather than the latter.

Eddie had just started wiping down the front desk counter, which doubled as a display case for the various accessories and body jewelry they carried trying to kill some time between his last appointment and cover-up-guy, when Chrissy came walking out of her studio.

It was one of the biggest perks, in his opinion, of owning their own shop. Not only did each of them finally have their own work spaces—no more having to listen to other client conversations or fighting over a single bluetooth speaker—but being their own bosses also meant they could decorate and customize their own studios to their heart’s content. 

The main area of the shop was a bit of a catch-all, much like his and Chrissy’s shared apartment. It featured neutral walls lined with a mishmash of all the things they loved, sprinkled in and amongst odd antiques, knick-knacks, and various pieces of unique artwork. There was everything from vintage vinyl record jackets tacked to the wall, to faux taxidermy mountings of creatures that had never existed in real life. 

Entering Chrissy’s studio was a little like stepping inside a Lisa Frank notebook cover. All vibrant rainbow colors and aggressive animal print. Eddie had painted the walls himself, color matching the exact shade of fuchsia as the adjustable chair he’d custom ordered just for her. He was no interior designer so she’d taken it from there, and though the finished product was a little too bright for his tastes, even he had to admit it was still pretty fucking metal. 

Eddie’s space was the polar opposite, featuring dark stained wood furniture and a style of decor that could be best described as a slightly more grown up version of a teenage boy's bedroom. Band and movie posters lined three of the walls, but instead of being held up with thumbtacks, or scotch tape, they were neatly laid in matching frames with thick black edging. The remaining wall held a gallery of photos. Him and Wayne from their last fishing trip, one from when he and Chrissy had received the keys to the parlor unlocking its doors on the first day that it was theirs, and an old snap of him and his high school bandmates standing in front of their homemade banner, among many others.

It wasn’t until Chrissy came up to lean on the counter with her jacket zipped-up and her purse slung over her shoulder that he realized something was up.

“Don’t forget to lock up when you're done.” She said, tapping her nails on the glass. “Oh! And can you stop and pick up some oat milk on your way home? We’re out.” 

“Wait, where are you going? Didn’t you have a client booked tonight too? I thought we were in this together, Cunningham!”

“Not anymore.” She said cheerfully, leaning across the counter to rest her elbows on the glass, leaving an ink smudge on the exact spot he had just finished cleaning. He swatted at her with the damp rag and she jerked back with a giggling-gasp.

“Mine had to cancel.”

Eddie groaned. “I hate when clients do that.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s like a free night off I wasn’t expecting.”

“Not exactly free, since canceling means not paying in full.” He grumbled.

“Oh lighten up! It’s not like we’re that behind on bills or anything.”

“Tell that to the electric company.” He said, mostly to tease her, though he couldn't help glancing up at the excessively large and kitschy skull chandelier he’d found on Amazon that definitely didn’t use high efficiency light bulbs, but he had sworn at the time was worth it for The Aesthetic™.

“Why are you always so grumpy?” Chrissy asked, jutting her lip out in a dramatic reenactment of him pouting. 

Not that he was one to pout. 

“I’m not!”

“Look at your face, you're grumpy right now!”

“That's because y- you’re…” He cut himself off with a sigh. 

He couldn't begrudge her the time off, he’d be hightailing it out of there just the same if it had been him. 

“Just get out of here.” He said, conceding defeat.

She beamed. “Okay! See you later!” She said, all but sprinting to the front doors. “Don’t forget about the milk!”

“Wait, why can’t you–” He started to ask, but she was on the other side of the door before he could get the words out.

“Oh forget it.” He mumbled, stashing the glass cleaner away where it belonged. 

About fifteen minutes later the bell above the door chimed, signaling the arrival of what Eddie assumed to be his last customer of the day. 

Except, it couldn't be.

It couldn’t possibly be because the Adonis that had just entered his humble tattoo parlor was, quite frankly, bonkers hot. There was no way, absolutely no way someone had this guy—this guy—so obsessed with them that he went and got their name tattooed on his perfect body and then just… let him go. 

It was unthinkable.

“Hi, you must be Eddie. I recognized you from your Instagram.” Pretty-boy said with a shy smile.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, blinking hard, completely unable to mask the tone of disbelief.

The other man nodded.

Shit, okay.

So this was him—Steeeeeeve Harrington. This was the guy. 

Maybe there was something wrong with him? There had to be a catch, a series of very red flags or something because all Eddie could think about at that moment was, if he ever got a chance with Steve? He’d never let him go. 

Get it together, Munson!

The bright side, of a sort, was that Steve smacked of straight guy energy, so it was unlikely Eddie would even be in the running for a chance anyway. Better to just put it out of his mind.

Though, he supposed he could still… look. It's not like looking ever hurt anyone. Not that he made a habit out of ogling the clientele. Of course, none of his other customers had ever come in wearing vintage Levi’s that fit their ass like a glove, not to mention the way they fit around his–

“Eddie?”

Fuck. 

Had Steve been talking this whole time while he’d been off daydreaming about what those sinfully tight jeans might look like on his bedroom floor?

“Yeah.” A soft chuckle fell from Eddie’s lips as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “S- sorry, man. Spaced out for a second there I guess.” 

What the fuck was wrong with him today?!

“It’s okay. I was just asking if the plan was still the same? In your last email you suggested we should do this over two appointments.”

Work question… yes, good. Focus on the job! 

“Right. With what we talked about I'd like to concentrate on just the outline today, maybe a little shading, and then in six weeks or so once that’s healed have you come back for the color. If you’re still alright with that?”

Eddie could do the whole thing in one shot if Steve really wanted to sit that long, but with something like this he didn't want to feel rushed. He’d done a few concept sketches after emailing back and forth with Steve about what he was looking for, and honestly what they’d come up with wasn’t really his usual style. He could do it, he was more than capable, but he had to wonder why Steve had picked him, out of all the tattoo artists in the city. He’d seen Eddie’s Instagram, so he knew the kind of work he usually churned out. Hell, Chrissy would have been the more obvious choice for this.

Of course, now that he’d gotten an eye-full of Steve in person he was glad he hadn’t tried to pawn him off on her. He was also really hoping Steve would agree to the split sessions, it would give them an excuse to see each other again.

“Whatever you think is best. I’m putting myself in your expert hands.” Steve said, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

That was… interesting. 

Maybe Eddie had been a little bit hasty in his initial straight assessment?

Steve’s deposit had been paid, and they’d already gone over pricing through email so there wasn't much to discuss as far as that was concerned, After signing some paperwork and getting the other man’s ID scanned into the system there was nothing left to do but walk Steve back to his studio and get this show on the road.

“You can go ahead and take your shirt off, get comfortable. I’ll show you the stencil I drew up and if it looks good we can put it on and get started.” Eddie said, gesturing to his client chair.

He leaned over his desk while Steve got situated, taking a second to gather his thoughts, as well as add a small finishing touch to the transfer sketch before turning back to his client. The sight made his throat go dry. 

It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. 

At Eddie's direction, in preparation, Steve had shaved his chest. More specifically, Steve had shaved half of his chest. The side Eddie would be working on, that sported the existing tattoo, was bare—smooth as a baby's bottom. The other side was… 

It was…

Jesus Christ.

It should have looked ridiculous actually, and it was a little funny, but honestly all Eddie could think when he stared at the untrimmed side of Steve's upper body, resplendent with the most glorious chest hair, was that it was a travesty, a crime even, that he’d never get to see the whole thing grown out in its full glory. 

The lack of a shirt also highlighted the fact that Steve was incredibly toned, much more so than he had initially appeared even through his slim fit henley. 

Eddie shook his head, praying it had suddenly become an etch-a-sketch and he could clear out his thoughts by sheer force. 

He truly didn’t know what had gotten into him. It was hardly the first time he’d worked on someone he found attractive, but usually he didn’t notice it quite this much. When you pierce and tattoo for a living you get used to seeing a lot of bare skin, including occasionally, areas typically reserved for romantic partners. Professional hazzard, but it’d never been a problem for him before. He was an artist, this was his craft, and bare skin was just another kind of canvas.

He blamed it on his current dry spell, self-imposed as it was. 

It was easy enough to go out on a Saturday and find a guy or girl to bring home for the night, but he was so tired of one night stands and meaningless hookups in bar bathrooms. Where was the substance? He wanted companionship. He wanted a partner. He wanted to fall in love. 

Eddie cleared his throat and crossed the room to hand Steve the stencil, busying himself with raising up his stool to the proper height and pulling on a pair of thick black neoprene gloves while the other man looked it over.  

“It’s great.” Steve said. 

“Good.” Eddie quietly let out the breath he’d been holding. “Alright I'm gonna put this on and have you take a look at the placement, make sure you like it, then we can get started.”

Eddie squeezed out a dime sized amount of the stencil gel and rubbed it into Steve’s chest, laying the transfer paper down in just the right way so that the final design would sufficiently cover what was underneath, assuming he had scaled it right. 

It was perfect. After a quick check in the mirror, Steve agreed. 

While they waited for it to dry Eddie double checked his set up to make sure he had everything he would need for the session.

“Ready to get started?”

Steve took a deep breath and blew it out slow. “Yeah. I am.”

His reply felt heavy, like maybe he was talking about more than just the tattoo. Had they known each other at all Eddie might have asked about it, but they were basically strangers, and it wasn’t his job to pry. 

With steady hands he set the needle to Steve's skin and got to work. 

They weren’t at it for very long before Steve started to squirm. 

Eddie ignored it at first, he could tell the guy was trying hard to keep himself still, and he wasn’t really moving enough to actually disturb the work. Sometimes it took a bit for clients to sink into the feeling, to let the pain fade to the background enough that they could relax a little bit or at least be able to keep their body from trying to react to the odd sensation. But then he noticed the light sheen of sweat spreading over Steve's upper body, and would have sworn he could somehow feel the other man’s pulse quickening beneath the hand he had pressed so closely to his heart, even over the vibration of the tattoo machine.

He should probably stop and do a check-in, suggest a breather or some water. It wouldn't be the first time a seemingly tough muscle-bound guy had struggled to sit for him. 

He opened his mouth to say something about it, lifting the needle as he took a quick glance up at Steve’s face, but what he saw had the words dying on his tongue. Steve was staring back at him, face flushed, breath coming quick and shallow, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. 

That… did not look like a face that was in pain—or rather—it didn’t seem like the pain was unpleasant. 

Fuck.

Eddie flicked his gaze quickly back down to his hands, the needle, fighting the urge to look lower. 

He shouldn’t. 

It wasn’t right.

The professional thing to do would be to ignore the reaction completely. 

But Eddie was a weak, weak man.

He looked. 

Just a quick peek, less than a half-second that his eyes wandered south, and immediately he regretted it. 

Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuck.

Suspicion confirmed. Steve was hard. He was also huge if the unmistakable outline was any indication. Eddie bit his tongue, fighting back the groan that was trying to fight its way out of his throat. 

Those jeans should be fucking illegal. The only thing worse would’ve been a pair of gray sweatpants. Now he was the one sweating.

“Sorry.” Steve said, voice strained.

Eddie stilled, lifting the machine away from Steve's chest again before looking back up to meet his eyes. 

“For?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, challenging him to continue to pretend he hadn’t noticed. 

“It’s fine, really. It… happens. Everyone reacts differently to the pain.”

Steve let out a high pitched and breathy huff of laughter. “It wasn’t like this last time.” He muttered under his breath.

Eddie tried hard not to read into that, not to think about what the difference might be.

“Do you need to take a break?” 

“No,” Steve swallowed hard. Eddie watched, momentarily mesmerized by the bob of his adams apple. “But, uh, can we talk or something? To distract me?”

He sounded so vulnerable, and a little embarrassed. It was enough to snap Eddie out of his daze. The last thing he wanted was for the person in his chair to feel uncomfortable. Talking he could do, it was one of his best things. 

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” Eddie asked casually, getting right back into his line work.

“You.” Steve answered quickly, pausing to clear his throat. “Um, I mean, did you always want to be a tattoo artist?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. I used to spend all my time, including the time I should have been using to study or do my homework, drawing, sketching, painting, you name it, and it just kinda developed from there. I gave myself my first stick-and-poke when I was about 15. My uncle was pissed. Not about the tattoo exactly, but he was worried I wasn't being safe enough about it—sanitary and stuff. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. So, Wayne took me out the next day and we got a book about it, and he bought me all the right materials. Even let me practice on him when I graduated to a tattoo machine.”

“He sounds like a really great guy.” Steve said.

“Yeah, he is.” Eddie could feel the wistful smile spreading across his own face. “Not just anyone could step in and raise someone else’s kid like that. Just wish I got to see him more. I go back to Indiana to visit him a few times a year, but it’s not the same.”

“I don’t see my family very much either, but we’re not close.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My parents, they’re–” Steve trailed off as if looking for the right words. “Well, let's just say they're not as supportive of my—life choices, as your uncle was for you.”

“Oh?”

“I, uh, came out to them a while ago… as bisexual? They didn’t take it very well. Said I was just going through some kind of phase or crisis or something. Sorry, this is probably, like, way too much information to share with someone I just met.”

“No. it’s—Okay, maybe to a normal person it might be but I've never been what anyone would describe as normal. And… I get it.”

Eddie didn’t really have to say it. The outside of the shop sported every kind of pride flag you could think of. There were pictures right behind him on the wall of him and Chrissy at their first ever pride parade right here in the city. Not to mention his social media profiles, where he had a bi  flag right next to his age and pronouns in his bio. Steve knew, was the point, and Eddie was glad he’d felt safe enough in his shop—with him, to talk about it.

“Wayne was really good about that too.” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t.”

A comfortable silence settled between them after that and Eddie left it unbroken, better to let Steve decide which direction their conversation went from here—if he wanted to continue it. He seemed more relaxed already and his… predicament had mercifully gone down as they spoke. 

“When did you—how did you… know?“ Steve asked after a while.

“Junior High.” Eddie answered quickly, smiling to himself as he indulged in a little nostalgia. “Kinda the opposite of the usual story, I guess. I thought I was gay. I had such a crush on this boy a grade above me.  Nobody that would have given me the time of day mind you, I was a band geek and a huge nerd, but he was very nice to look at. Then he changed schools. I was heartbroken of course, which is my excuse for why I let this girl drag me under the bleachers during gym class. One second we were just sitting there talking and the next she was in my lap with her tongue down my throat.” 

“And?”

Eddie shrugged. “And I didn’t hate it. I reacted exactly the way a young boy reacts when a pretty girl is kissing them and grinding in their lap. Honestly, it blew my mind a little bit—had to reevaluate my whole world view.”

Steve hummed in understanding.

“It’s still mostly men for me but–” Eddie sighed wistfully, “Women.”

“Women,” Steve agreed reverently, letting out a soft laugh. “It was a bit more recent for me. A friend took me to a gay bar—dragged me there actually.” He started to shake his head, stopping instantly when he seemed to realize he might be moving too much.

Good boy.

Eddie smirked. “I bet you were popular.”

“You could say that. I’ve never had so many people offer to buy me a drink in my life.” As Steve went on he began to rub his hand along the chair's armrest, mindlessly drawing patterns into its surface with his long fingers.

“It’s funny, at 25 I didn’t think I had anything new to discover about myself, at least nothing big, but after that rather eye-opening evening I had to, like you said, reevaluate some things about myself. It wasn’t a huge shock I guess. Like, I had found guys attractive before—friends, celebrities, whatever, I just thought everyone felt that way.”

“Ah, the bisexual’s fallacy. Sure I think about other dudes sometimes, but only the normal amount.” Eddie said.

“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t!”

Eddie stopped tattooing as they held each other's gaze, both managing to keep a straight face for only a second before simultaneously dissolving into hysterical laughter. 

Figuring it was as good a time as any to take a short break, Eddie stripped his gloves off and slid across the room on his stool to a small mini-fridge he kept tucked under his desk, stocked with water and juice—something he always kept on hand in case a client got lightheaded.

As they sipped their drinks and both took an opportunity to stretch, Eddie decided it was finally time to put his foot in his mouth.

“So, how are you enjoying things on this side of the field? Someone as pretty as you, I'm sure you get asked out a lot.”

“No, uh, I don't know. I- I haven't really been out on any dates with guys.” Steve stuttered out nervously. “Kissed a few, but that’s all.” 

“Oh, that’s too bad.��� Eddie said. He meant it too. Not only was Steve something special to look at, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He deserved to be taken out and shown a good time. Maybe he was shy.

Steve laid back in the chair, puffing his chest out as he got back into position while Eddie slipped a new pair of gloves on. 

“Why, you offering to show me the ropes?” Steve asked, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

Eddie’s mouth went dry. 

Okay, not that shy then. Surely it was just fun friendly flirting though, right?

“Don’t tempt me.” Eddie teased back. Two could play this game.

“Why not?”

“First rule of the trade, or at least the Munson doctrine, no dating the clients.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Steve said, and without even looking up Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, a hint of–challenge accepted–in his tone.

The next hour flew by as they continued to chat, both remarking on the differences between small town life and city life, as well as lamenting how expensive it was, and how neither of them thought they’d still be living with roommates in their mid-to-late-20's.

For a while Eddie waxed poetic about Chrissy, who of course filled the roles of bestie, roommate, and business partner, which tickled Steve to no end. 

He told the other man how they’d met, apprenticing at the same tattoo parlor at around the same time. and wound up bonding for life almost immediately. They were total opposites on the surface but deep down they were remarkably similar. Eddie didn’t go into too much detail, as it wasn’t his story to tell, but alluded to the fact that he and Chrissy had the shared experience of being born to shitty parents, only to be raised by another family member. A grandmother in Chrissy’s case.

It meant that they understood each other more than most, and yeah, being around one another 24/7 also meant they got on each other’s nerves a lot, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

At some point Steve’s cell phone began to ring from where it was shoved in his front pocket. He apologized profusely for forgetting to switch it on silent before they’d gotten started, but Eddie assured him it wasn’t a big deal. 

Or—it wouldn't have been, except either it was some kind of emergency, or someone who was intent on reaching Steve immediately, and continued trying to call three more times. 

“We can take a break if you need to get that.” Eddie offered.

Truth be told he could use a little breather himself. All this time of being essentially face down in Steve’s incredible chest was getting to him a little bit, not to mention the way his forearm lightly brushed along Steve's stomach whenever he braced himself across the man’s body. The feel of their bare skin touching was almost too much, and more than once Eddie felt himself breaking out in goosebumps. 

“Yeah, I think we’d better. It’s gotta be my little brother and knowing him he won’t stop calling until I answer.”

Eddie busied himself removing his gloves and taking a long drink from his water bottle while he flipped through a few drawings on his side table, trying to look like he wasn’t hearing every word of Steve's side of the conversation. 

“Hey buddy, I'm a little busy right now. What’s going on?” 

Steve paused, listening attentively to the voice on the other end of the call. 

“Dustin, he’s not abandoning you. Just because he wants–”

Sighing as he was abruptly interrupted, Steve somehow made the huff of breath sound both annoyed and fond.

“Well, did he actually say he didn’t want to play D&D with you anymore?” 

Eddie’s head snapped up of its own volition. Did the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen in real life just say D&D?

“That’s what I thought.” Steve said with a satisfied tone. “It's gonna be fine. I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? Tell your mom I said hi.”

“Sorry about that.” Steve said, addressing Eddie this time, rolling his eyes as he ended the call. “Teenagers.”

“Pretty cool little brother if he plays Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh no.” Steve groaned. “Not you too! He and all his little friends are obsessed with it.”

“I used to play all the time with a group back in high school. We still try and get together for a one-shot at the holidays when we’re all back home visiting.” Eddie paused, concentrating for a second on wiggling his fingers into yet another set of gloves. There wasn’t really all that much left to do, another 20 minutes or so and he’d be done with the outline. “Was he alright, your brother?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Steve replied as he sat back, getting into position. “We, uh, technically we’re not actually related—I'm an only child. But I used to babysit Dustin when he was younger and when he grew up I just sorta stuck around. It’s only him and his mom at home and I guess I thought… I dunno, like, maybe I could help? I drove him to his first school dance, taught him how to do his hair, shave, that kinda stuff.”

“That's… that’s really sweet, man. I’m sure he appreciates having you around.”

With every new thing he learned about Steve, Eddie felt like he was in deeper and deeper trouble. He’d been having a tough enough time keeping it together with simply lusting over a hot body, but now Steve was turning out to be this sweetheart of a guy and, client or not, Eddie thought he might just be worth breaking all the rules for. 

“He’s worried his friend group is falling apart because one of the guys is going out for the basketball team. He’s afraid if Lucas gets in good with the jocks he won’t want to play with them anymore.”

“As a former outcast and enemy to jocks everywhere, I can understand his concern.” 

“Are you saying we wouldn't have been friends in high school then?”

“Steve, Stevie, please. Please don’t tell me…” Eddie trailed off, stopping what he was doing and gasping for dramatic effect–hand over his heart. “Oh god, you were captain of the sportsball team weren’t you?” 

Steve giggled, his beautiful eyes sparkling with it. “Basketball, to be exact. I was the co-captain of the swim team too.”

“I knew it would never work between us.” Eddie tutted, shaking his head as he got back to tattooing. “Are you reformed, at least?”

“Once a jock, always a jock, I'm afraid. I’m a personal trainer now.”

It explained a lot, and the perks—pun absolutely intended—of Steve's day job were undeniable, but as hot as the mental image of him pumping iron was, the idea of Steve palling around with toxic gym bros all day was almost enough to have Eddie second guessing everything.

“Don’t worry though, I don’t like gym bros any more than the next guy.” Steve said conspiratorially. “My clients are mainly older women looking to maintain their strength and mobility as they age.”

Aaaaand Eddie stood corrected. “Lucky ladies.”

Jesus Christ, could this guy get any more perfect?

Steve shifted in his seat, starting to get antsy after keeeping still for so long. 

“Just a few more minutes, almost done.” Eddie murmured, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated on a spot near the curve of Steve’s collarbone.

“Do you do a lot of these? Cover-ups I mean?” Steve asked. “My roommate is the one who actually suggested it. For some reason I just never thought about it as an option.”

“I don’t know if i’d say a lot, but a fair few, yeah.”

“You, um. You can ask about it… If you want.”

Eddie glanced up in surprise. He would never have brought it up without being prompted, it just didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t deny he was curious, and if Steve was okay with it then–

“Okay, I'll bite. Who’s Nancy?”

“My fiance’. Well, ex-fiance’ now. We broke things off a little over a year ago.”

“That’s rough, I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. Honestly, It’s… I should have probably seen it coming? We were high school sweethearts—got together before we really knew who we were on our own. But I was dumb and in love. I got the tattoo and proposed. I was so happy that day, but looking back it was so obvious that she’d only said yes out of pity or guilt, not because she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.”

The part of Eddie that believed in true love—and all that cheesy shit—was sad that a couple who had been together for so long, who had essentially grown up together, hadn’t been able to make it work. Selfishly though, a small piece of him was happy to learn that they’d been broken up for quite some time, lessening the chance that, if he did somehow gather the courage to ask Steve out when the tattoo was done, he wouldn’t be on the rebound.

“It was tough. I felt like a failure for a long time, like I was having to start my whole life over from scratch when I'd thought for so long that she was it for me, but it's actually been… good. We weren’t right for eachother, I can see that now. As much as it hurt, I'm grateful she had the courage to break things off when she did.”

“I’m glad you’ve been able to come to peace with it.”

“Getting this tattoo feels like the final step into letting that life go, y’know?”

Eddie nodded. Steve’s demeanor before they got started made so much sense now.

“Is there some significance to the design?” He asked, making his final line and setting the machine down. He wiped at the excess ink on Steve's skin, raising his head just in time to see the way the other man’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, Robin. She–she’s everything to me. Like a best friend, but more somehow. I don’t think I really knew what unconditional love was before her. She’s like, another piece of my soul or something. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

Eddie froze. 

The tattoo design was a bird—a robin.

A robin.

For, Robin.

How could he have been so stupid! 

Of course, Steve was getting one girl’s name covered up with something to represent the new one. 

Jesus Christ, they were both idiots.

Eddie for getting his hopes up, and Steve for making the same mistake—twice. At least this time it was a symbol and not a name, so if he and the latest potential Mrs. Harrington didn’t work out, at least he wouldn't have to worry about covering it up.

“Everything alright?” Steve asked.

The question spurred Eddie back into action. He spread the foam soap over Steve’s chest continuing to clean the finished tattoo while his heart crawled up into his throat. 

“Yup. All good.” Eddie forced the words out.

That's what Steve must have meant about not going on dates, he already had someone at home. Why hadn’t he just said that before though? And why had he flirted with him? 

Maybe he’d felt funny at first about admitting to being with a woman after all the talk about being bisexual. Not that Eddie would have judged, but he knew a lot of people did—bi erasure was so real. He understood that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less that Steve had, inadvertently or not, lead him on. 

Eddie gently patted the newly cleaned skin dry with a paper towel and carefully applied a square of Saniderm over the area, smoothing it out as he gave Steve his usual spiel, albeit a little robotically, about how to care for the tattoo over the coming days and weeks.

He quickly turned his back when he was done, telling Steve he could get dressed, and feeling stupid as all hell for being this upset about a guy he barely knew. He’d felt something though, potential—a spark. It was more than he’d felt for anyone in a long time.

Steve got quiet, looking a little confused with the sudden 180° Eddie’s mood had pulled. He felt a little bad about that as he brought the guy back out to the counter, but it wasn’t as though he’d suddenly become unprofessional. He was just… no longer being overly friendly.

After confirming the date for his second session, Steve paid his balance and Eddie walked him to the door.  

“Have a good night, Steve. Call the shop if you have any concerns or questions about aftercare.”

Steve bit his lip. “Oh, I… okay. See you in six weeks then.”

Eddie forced a smile, waiting until Steve was out of sight around the corner to lock up, and slunk back to his studio to disinfect it so he could finally go home and sulk.

Chapter 2

All my thanks to @penny00dreadful for all of your wonderful beta work, and cheerleading, and support, and just generally being THE BEST 💜

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2024-08-24

(Previous post - current page 666)

Section 3 of page 666 is now upd8'd, let's check it out! And as you can expect very much from the topic it's almost certainly covering, they've warned us via the twitter "Content warning for references to themes of physical and mental abuse, flashing imagery, and mild gore". By the way, when Force Refresh didn't reload the game data enough to show the new chapter in Google Chrome for me, I had to go in settings to "Delete Browsing Data" > "Cookies and other site data" for the Time Range "Last hour", because just deleting "Cached images and files" or "Hosted app data" didn't help.

(EDIT: THEY WERE NOT KIDDING AROUND ABOUT THE CONTENT WARNINGS, IF YOU HAVE ANY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE WITH ANY SORT OF ABUSE PLEASE BE CAREFUL WITH THIS ONE.)

Although, before we get into it (AND WAY BEFORE I SCROLLED BACK UP TO EDIT THAT EXTRA WARNING UP THERE), I wanted to cover something that'd been on my mind since my last post, predictionways: How IS Vriska going to escape the Plot Point?

There seem a number of obvious answers that we'll get some combination of, but the last one might not be obvious to everyone, so I wanted to cover it and flesh out / examine the possibilities so we all can feel really smart if it pans out at all the way I'm thinking it could pan out:

(1) Vriska realizes the true power and relevance she'd attained as a Thief of Light never left her heart all along, and this singularity is Nothing, a realm Void of relevance where only she exists. (Very like the Neverending Story after everything was destroyed, maybe?) If she allows herself to divest herself of some of her relevance she's been so desperately clutching onto, she can 8r8k the Plot Point.

Callie hinted that this singularity-center might need to be destroyed, and the fifth section is an 8-ball, a type of container Vriska is famously known to break. It may make a degree of sense that realizing her own power, her ultimate freedom, might be enough to do just that and free her.

(1a) Vriska becomes her Ultimate Self, and is too full of Light for the singularity to contain. This could break it or otherwise get her out of it...

...but I'm not sure it's either possible or a good thing for her to consolidate ALL of herself from the rest of Paradox Space into herself while she's trapped in here? Those versions of her perhaps deserve to keep existing rather than falling into a sea of herself that would need to hold powerfully to the self-actualization and psychological progress she's made as THIS version of her instead of the versions of her that didn't. We're not certain of all the mechanics of being an Ultimate Self, so it's hard to say whether or not it's possible... or could even see her backslide from this Therapy Session, which I really wouldn't want to see because this has been so good, and would definitely make some sense of alt!Callie / AL's warning that what was inside the Plot Point was hungry, because an Ultimate Vriska certainly could be. This doesn't seem the right choice unless in combination with one of the other options:

(2) Vriska finds the collapsed core of the Green Sun's power here and steals it for herself, a hidden treasure that could be intensely empowering, whether via Light or even giving her fancy barrier-busting Black Hole powers similar to alt!Calliope's dead!Jade body. I... feel this option is unlikely. It'd certainly count as something "greedy" inside the Plot Point that "isn't salvation" and could hasten the fragmentation of the Candy storyline because there isn't a singularity vacuuming its power all together, which could apply to breaking the Plot Point too, frankly... eh, I just still think other options seem more likely and better foreshadowed. Especially this last one:

(3) Vriska uses the same communication-across-barriers ability she used to contact (Meat)!Terezi in order to message JOHN and ask the HEIR OF BREATH to free her from the singularity as I once long ago wrongly predicted. If John is the only one who can reach in and pull her out, it would require Vriska to overcome herself enough to realize she needs -- and has the power -- to MAKE a divestment of relevance (as (1) suggested) to John from herself, and let John be the hero in her place for at least a moment. The arms he once reached everywhere with using his ultimate power suddenly become an arm reaching for another hand to pull someone to freedom.

Now on top of everything I mentioned in the old Breath, Blood, and the Flow of Reality post about John being one of the only people possibly capable of freeing someone from a singularity that "not even Light can escape", there's a bunch of EXTREMELY RECENT evidence for this, too. In addition to telling us how surprising and unlikely they would have found it to learn that Vriska messaged Terezi past the barrier sealing Candy's timeline away from the rest of Paradox Space, Callie ALSO just got done asking John to break Vriska out of jail, reinforcing it with an open statement that Breath was the aspect of Freedom, and John embodied the concept. And more importantly, John HADN'T BEEN NECESSARY to break Vriska out at all, and ended up only tagging along for conversation and fun, not even needing to tell Serket where to go! Which makes the entire relevance and narrative choice of Callie asking him to break her out better suited as foreshadowing for this exact necessity while she's trapped in the Plot Point, and all Vriska would need to do to make it happen is pull a trick (communicating across the Breach) we've already seen her pull before in the Epilogues. To have the courage and stability of mind to realize she can't do this on her own, and know who to ask for help. (Roxy, as a Rogue of Void, might even be able to lend her power to the effort too.)

Apologies for the pre-update writeup, I just really wanted to make that last John call for y'all if you hadn't realized the possibility, y'know, before we potentially see it happen a few upd8s from now. :D

Alright, on to all the trauma that Doc Scratch helped inflict on Vriska, manipulating her into actions that only injured her psyche further and her friends moreso, and all the guilt and anger she feels over it. I suspect she'll have to finally at least PARTIALLY realize the trick that's being hinted at regarding "ultimate freedom" -- ie, the answer to the Ultimate Riddle -- and just how much Doc Scratch's talk of inevitability not only gaslit her into thinking her worst instincts were unavoidable, but that even as he was TELLING her that he was manipulating her, he was admitting that he HAD to manipulate her to make this happen, meaning the power had been in HER hands all along, not his. Without Vriska provoked into being the one to inflict the injuries in the entire Team Charge vs Team Scourge cascade, without the fact that this was all FRIENDS hurting FRIENDS, none of them would have experienced enough of the severe psychological trauma required for Doc Scratch's half-Gamzee chucklevoodoos to control them into unknowingly writing his DNA code, and leaving those like Aradia in an inverted, highly manipulatable state for guiding their session into creating the Tumor that would birth the Green Sun. Let's click the White Cueball and start watching Vriska painfully confronting some serious emotional abuse and trauma from her past at the hands of a very-Dirk-Strider-like pseudo-parental figure...

*CLICKING THAT DAMNED CUEBALL NOW*

Okay, NO TIMESKIP notice this time, she looks the same in her room-- it would make sense that Doc Scratch is next on the chopping block this time and I'd WANT to see her live first reaction to it. What's with this poppy hoppy fun music? We're definitely getting something more sinister for Scratch. (Also I have to say, the music so far this entire Vriska Therapy Session flash has been... okay? But not up to the usual Homestuck banger standards the original comic's run spoiled us with constantly, in my personal view.)

VRISKA: Whew. VRISKA: Long day.

Oh gosh I hope she doesn't go into the next one IMMEDIATELY and rests first--

Oh GCATAVROSPRITE is the music this time, I get it! And he's acting more catlike than ever w/ those paws lifted!

GCATAVROSPRITE: mAYBE, yOU SHOULD TAKE A BREAK, fROM ALL THE TOTALLY AWESOME PERSONAL BREAKTHROUGHS YOU ARE HAVING, GCATAVROSPRITE: aND KICK IT WITH ME AND ERISOL FOR A WHILE, ERISOLSPRITE: yeah, you kiinda look liike 2hiit.

THANK you, get her to relax at least a BIT before tackling something harder than her freakin' abusive mother(s). Also,

--just, Erisol looking unexpectedly fly as fuck, and more Dave-like than ever. Like, I'm just surprised he looks so cool. Good damn art.

VRISKA: Says Scarfshades McLopsided.

Hey!!!

ERISOLSPRITE: 2ay2 the bu2ted a22 biitch wwearin the 2ame raggedy jacket 2he2 wworn 2ince wwe wwere liike fiivve.

FUCKIN' OWNED, GOOD SNAPBACK.

VRISKA: Says the guy who literally can't change his clothes.

That's low AND not helping your case, fuck you! You're being incredibly disrespectful AND proving him right!

ERISOLSPRITE: ii cant be held accountable for my dii2cordant cla22-2wwag diichotomy, but here you are a 2weep and a half deep iin a per2onally raiilored realm of 2elf-reflectiion and you 2tiill choo2e twwo look liike thii2.

EXACTLY, that's what we're saying!!! --Not that it can be helped TOO much, from an emotional standpoint she sorta has to take forms similar to her past to face her past to an extent, so...

Also, let me do the math on that... (6/13)*4 ≈ 1.85, so if we're still in "YEAR 4" then 1.85 solar sweeps have passed for her since she entered the Plot Point. If anything, Erisol's being generous as fuck here by rounding down instead of saying "nearly two sweeps". (And this confirms we haven't timeskipped again-- or if we have, must not have skipped MUCH.)

VRISKA: Heh.

What, can't mess with perfection?

ERISOLSPRITE: heh.

Oh shit, they're actually getting on, look at his damned animated grin. This is just some black-vibey friendly jabbing!

ERISOLSPRITE: anyway, come chiill.

Please, please do Vriska for your own damn sake.

Oh no, Tavros, don't suggest cat things.

Yeah, get some R and R. (And pointless playtime.) So you don't burn out. Good advice Tav.

FUCK IS HE STILL ALLERGIC? :C

.....okay GCATavrosprite you make a good goddamned point, you're doing pretty well against the allergies all things considered.

Oh no, she thinks she needs to keep going. :( This is gonna be even less fun for her than she thinks.

VRISKA: I'm kind of on a roll here. Gotta strike while the iron is hot!

Intense trauma-release therapy does not work that way!!! Heavy revelations have to be PROCESSED and mulled over before you subject yourself to more psychological pounding!

GCATAVROSPRITE: [...] aND IT KIND OF FEELS LIKE THE FIRE IS ABOUT TO GET REALLY REALLY HOT,

Ooh, a serious warning from Tav and Erisol that this shit is about to be some fuckin' BUSINESS. Listen to them! (Exactly as you put it Tav, that iron is gonna MELT too long in too hot a fire. I hope this doesn't knock her back at first and then we get ANOTHER TIMESKIP so soon mid-section... D: )

VRISKA: Whaaaaaaaat?

Oh she doesn't fucking see it coming, does she. She thought she just conquered the worst of her abuse with her mother(s) just now. She is NOT ready.

VRISKA: Oh 8lah 8lah 8lah, don't be such a pussy. GCATAVROSPRITE: i LITERALLY CAN'T NOT BE A CAT,

PFFF

VRISKA: How 8ad could it even 8e?

How genre savvy could you POSSIBLY have lost track of being to make such a statement?

...Welp, she's gonna try it. Let's hope it doesn't make her backslide into being too afraid to touch it for another year or two. :C :C :C

ERISOLSPRITE: ok wwell fuck u2 for tryiin ii gue22, havve fun gettiing traumatiized.

PFFFFDHF okay that was pretty funny

VRISKA: I'm not gonna get traumatized!

Lemme guess, smash cut to a dozen and change clicks from now: "...I got fucking traumatized."? X'D

Oh here we go:

{ENTER SCRATCH'S PARLOR}

OH HERE WE GO WITH SOME PROPERLY OMINOUS MUSIC. AND I LOVE THE TYPEWRITER SOUNDS AS HIS TEXT TYPES OUT AGAINST THE PURE BACKGROUND. THIS IS DONE SO GODDAMN WELL

(Even if I still think this music still doesn't measure up to original Homestuck tunes, it's still FITTING AND WORKS GREAT for the scene, and the style and art choices are top notch, especially the pure backgroundless white font.)

Yep Vriska, a "perfectly predictable inevitability", you should have seen this coming. Did you know you'd show up here, or did you not and he's rubbing it in your face? Cause I'd bet it's the latter.

It certainly has been a while, Vriska. You seem to have blossomed nicely.

CREEPY ABUSIVE UNCLE VIBES ALREADY REACHING CRITICAL LEVELS THREE CLICKS IN

Care for a piece of candy?

GOD DAMNIT

VRISKA: Oh fuck your stupid candy, you glo8e-headed little freak.

Congratulations Vriska, you've successfully lost 99% of your chill five seconds in, have fun getting traumatized

Doc hinting at the inevitability theme by saying he'd know for a fact she'd enjoy the candy.

Although it was less the wary hunch of a scared little girl than the delightful certainty that you'd come crawling back to me, sooner or later.

FUCK THIS IS JUST RAW ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WE ARE FULL NON-WATERED-DOWN EVERCLEAR HERE

Holy SHIT are they pulling out all the stops with his awful phrasing here, no wonder they put so big an emotional abuse trigger warning on this update on the twitter page. And it's only going to get worse.

Of course I know. I'm always watching you.

Fuck, this is just. Exposing levels of vulnerability and awful fear that Vriska had to contend with in her youth that we hadn't even PUT TOGETHER back then. Every veil of silliness has been ripped straight off to show the gory mess of how this would have psychologically affected her while she was younger, here. I used to hate the epilogues and early HS^2 a little for doing this so liberally, for making clear how RETROACTIVELY FUCKED things were in ways that made my heart ache without any balm or healing... but unlike those earlier glimpses into their past attitudes, THIS time we are fucking going to goddamn RESOLVE the psychological issues and get some clear closure on them. That's part of why the entire p666 Vriska Therapy Session / Hyperbolic Therapy Chamber is already quite nearly my favorite part of all Homestuck so far, and I DO mean ALL of Homestuck so far.

VRISKA: You know what? VRISKA: I've 8een pretty damn good. VRISKA: 8een losing track of the sweeps I've spent in here fixing pretty much everything other than the thing I actually came in here to fix, 8ut it's paying off! There's a convenient timer for the express purpose of tracking that.

Oh god don't show her. Don't make her worry about how much time she's losing in here or how much it might be reflecting out there.

VRISKA: Yeah, and I never look at it 8ecause it pisses me off!

Phew. At least she's had TIME to come to terms with worrying about it.

VRISKA: 8ut it's fine. VRISKA: It just means I've had a lot of time to think stuff over. VRISKA: Stuff that was holding me 8ack, throwing me off-course.

I get the feeling he's about to do a pretty good job trying to convince you that you can't escape this so easily. To throw the wrong sort of doubt at you about what exactly you're barreling towards. About who the real "YOU" is-- he's going to try and convince you you're the one who hurts people.

I like to think that I'm far and away the most prolific contributor to your baggage.

Fuck. This won't be good.

VRISKA: Man, I figured may8e this place was working up to something really intense, 8ut instead all I get is Glo8ehead the Gru8toucher playing puppetmaster again.

Eueuuugh that nickname D:

...Is Vriska shaking or laughing? I think she's shaking. D:

VRISKA: You fucked with a 8unch of little kids and 8lew up, then you LOST.

Lord English might have lost, but I don't feel quite like Doc Scratch really did. He pretty much gave his master the Paradox-Space-spanning story he wanted, from beginning to end.

VRISKA: You could 8arely handle me when I was six, I'm supposed to 8e scared of you NOW?

It doesn't matter that you're not six sweeps anymore, that's-- you're visibly shaking. This is a big fucking deal. This is digging into the creepiest and most disgusting parts of what was done to you.

Well, you're shaking.

There we have it.

...Vriska is pulling out the whole-ass PDF File word. I... I hope she's just trying to taunt him for manipulating children, here, and playing the uncle angle. He's not-- I mean nothing actually happened, right? Please tell me nothing physical actually fucking happened besides the cueball-explosion physical-abuse-ways, I don't want sexual abuse retconned into existence here...

Exquisite. I missed that fumbling braggadocio. It's heartening to know that this place hasn't cured you of it yet. It makes you so much fun to play with.

Yeah... the parts of Doc Scratch that Vriska is going to remember most clearly are the times where he was condescending in ways that denigrated her and confirmed her worst fears about herself, intentionally. :C

WHOA DID HE JUST SPACE SHRINK HER??? IS HE GONNA PUT HER ON THE TOY BATTLEFIELD?!

{o} ==>

Matching the scale and visuals of the situation to how she always felt. :C :C

And SICK that the music is breaking down, I'll freely give it credit for shifting to action mode.

Now then, why don't we have ourselves a little game?

Just like Dirk and Caliborn, and their union in Doc Scratch, always love to do to people.

FUCK he glitched away the "WHAT WILL YOU DO?" prompt. This is DEFINITELY about the Ultimate Riddle and Doc Scratch's ultimate lie that Vriska never had any autonomy, a lie he poisoned her with from an early age to make her even easier to manipulate both then and down the line.

DAMMIT, changing her clothes by force?! D: D: D: D:

FUCK FUCK FUCK NO THAT'S EVEN WORSE HE CHANGED HER INTO KID FORM HUGGING HERSELF FROM WHEN SHE WAS ABOUT TO BE INJURED THAT'S CREEPIER AND MORE AWFUL THAN I EVER EXPECTED NO WONDER THEY CONTENT WARNING'D THE FUCK OUT OF THIS, I'm going up there and putting some EXTRAS on there.

I don't have personal experience with this sort of abuse but I do have experience with some who HAVE and some who WORK therapeutically with those who have so this is playing out like a critical hit to triggers I can only empathize from a distance with and it's STILL getting almost too much already. Wow wow wow wow wow they didn't pull any punches.

Ah, and there she is. My favorite piece.

AAAAAA

Thief to E4; Thief takes Page.

That loud BLAM just then and the brown blood knocking her back along with her injuries, so pithy yet so HEAVY and with the meaty SFX to go with it, just, brutal, auughh.... Vriska's NOT getting out of this one lightly. She's not going to want to come back here. She's going to be too traumatized for a good while isn't she.

Thief to F5; Thief takes Maid.

Oh god I don't want to screenshot each of these...

Another meaty THUNK and some rust blood splashing her. God.

Thief to Z8; Thief takes Seer.

Even after all Terezi taunted her and so clearly loved being blind, she STILL hates herself for what she did to Terezi?? :'C

Her blood too D:

Z8 ISN'T EVEN A F8CKING P8SITION, YOU HACK!!!!!!!

She didn't even get the number of exclamation points right...

All the world's my board.

No Escape.

Thief to ∫40; Thief takes pawn.

Wait what, who?

Is that Gamzee's blood or Eridan's? She only killed Gamzee just recently in Candy... (Checks with digital color meter--) That's #680768 blood, which is closest to... Eridan's, huh, weird. Maybe Erisol will be able to help her with this later after she's run away. IF AND WHEN she can finally run away. It looks like he wants to reinforce the impression that he can make her kill ANY AND ALL of the people friends she knows, COULD have made her do it. That's horrible for her to think of herself.

Now Equius's blood. She's swearing but can't make it stop.

He even calls Kanaya (and her blood splash) nothing but her killing a pawn of his choosing.

Thief to Ω413; Thief takes pawn. Check.

This is one of the first reappearances I can remember of the arc number 413 since we started HS^2, I don't even recall it in the epilogues. What's in Check here, the kids' whole universe, the one the trolls created? Is he getting her to blame herself for that, too?

KARKAT'S BLOOD AUGH that's always tough to see whenever I have to see it, it just makes you want to protect him when you know you can't.

Vriska calling him a cheap fucking karma ghost, this a stupid fucking charade... won't stop the fact that this is real emotional pain she's feeling and real pain that was already inside her for nearly her whole life up until this vision brought it out into the open.

VRISKA: AND I'M NEVER GOING TO 8E CAUGHT UP IN YOUR FUCKING G8MES EVER AGAIN!!!!!!!!

Then why are you so afraid you will be?

Of course you will. You think you're better than me? Better than fate? Vriska, I am going to put you in situations where you have the potential to do terrible things. I am going to make things ugly. I am going to corner you. I am going to pressure you. And no matter how much "better" you claim to be, all I have to do is catch you at the wrong moment. You're one bad turn from burning all your quaint little progress to the ground. One lapse away from being mine again.

Yeah, these are ALL just more and more of her deepest fears about herself. That she can be made to kill again, so easily, no matter how far she thinks she's moved past it all. Until she internalizes the answer to the Ultimate Riddle and realizes she has the power to make the better choice-- to ALWAYS make the better choice, and he was just fooling her into thinking she never did-- how could she possibly escape this sort of trap? She can't, not yet. And that abusive cueball asshole INTENTIONALLY made sure she felt that way, because that's what kept her easy to control. Learned helplesness.

VRISKA: Get me out of here.

Fuck, she's so defeated... so helpless. Please, PLEASE let this work. Please make it so she CAN escape this memory RIGHT THE FUCK NOW and confront it later. Because I'm very afraid it won't.

VRISKA: I want a do-over. Oh, please. You of all people should know that you don't *get* do-overs. The rest of these frivolous little vision quests may feel like sparing you the effort of getting things right the first time around, but the real world doesn't work that way.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK THAT'S EVEN WORSE THAN I EXPECTED

No, you'll just have to endure it. This won't take long.

LET HER OUT YOU FUCK

You had a good run out there, flying solo and swashbuckling around as if Light itself were yours to command. It'd be wise to remember that it's a borrowed blessing. You flourish at its whim. Continue to spit in its face and take it for granted, and it will abandon you once again, perhaps for good.

Back to the ultimate riddle shit again. Doc Scratch conning her into thinking "everything you've achieved, I made for you, or you stole from others".

Being a true Thief of Light doesn't mean being at the whim of Light, at the mercy of what she can borrow. Kanaya tried to teach her back when she wanted her to clean her room that anybody can make their own luck.

Instead Doc Scratch is playing the role of Demiurge, standing in place of the Sun and claiming all Light radiates from him, when there was plenty inside her all along.

Do you remember who you were, before it chose you? The choices you made when luck wasn't on your side? You were such a delectable little victim.

Bluh!!!!!!

Poor Vriska, with her voracious lusus. With her demanding legacy and her uncooperative, fickle little friends. So much was out of your hands, then; how could you help but mbe my lovely assistant?

Doc Scratch inherited every last ounce of Equius's nonconsensual creep factor from Arquiusprite.

And this is going into the relationship between Light and Agency again, Void and the Lack of agency-- when Vriska felt trapped, felt she didn't have a choice, that was Void hemming her in, her "bad luck streak". Agency is your ability to choose what you do next, and so is Light. That's the privilege sometimes but not exclusively known as Luck.

Vriska: You didn't fucking own me.

Still so helpless-looking, but at least a bit of defiance in her expression. Which I expect handily crushed, unfortunately...

Exactly.

Fuck! And yeah, that's his point-- he's trying to say she CHOSE to do the wrong thing when the chips were down, which is what she's most afraid she'll do again.

But she needs to internalize the fact that it was a choice... that it HAD to be a choice... is an important flaw in the way he gaslit and conned her.

But what matters is that I might as well have. You let yourself believe you had no option other than to take me up on my hard bargains, again and again. For all your talk of independence, all your combative posturing and insistence on your own freedom, you barely bothered to put up any actual resistance to my suggestions. You took the easy way out, swearing all teh while it was your move. What a phenomenal waste of your considerable talents.

Her psyche is playing against her with the cards face up here... she just has to read them correctly. This is what she's afraid of, but it's also the flaw in his logic, the source of his power over her. The idea that she never possessed Ultimate Freedom, even though he's practically telling her that she DID, just to convince her she's an awful person.

It was an insult, and a warning. You're a trump card, Vriska, but your potency is a double-edged sword. One you've gotten far too comfortable swinging around, in the past. What do you intend to fix, when you leave this place? What, I wonder, will you break? I'd encourage you to be mindful of both. Of course, you could always cast aside those pesky trivialities and go with the flow, smashing through circumstances with nary a thought for the consequences. It'd be easier. We could dance together again, just like old times. You choose.

This isn't the real Doc Scratch-- this version of him IS, in its sick perverse way, still helping her. Still giving her the hints to realize that true balance between embracing your role and yielding agency to others is CRUCIAL to make sure you're doing your best to do the right thing. Which is especially difficult when your role, your best methodology, is that of an Agency Thief. A dangerous role which must be careful with its moves so as not to gluttonously trample over the wills of others who deserve a say.

But in order to choose, to take up the mantle of Ultimate Freedom, Vriska has to TRUST herself enough TO choose.

Trusting yourself enough to entrust yourself with CHOICE is one of the hardest decisions you can possibly make. Few ever truly make that decision.

What'll it be, Vriska? Player, or piece?

Well?

Thief to ∞108.

Whoa, what now? What the fuck is this going to be?

I look forward to finding out. Good luck.

Oh, so it's sending her back to the Plot Point. ∞108, or 8108. Is this the elusive arc number of one of our timelines, of Candy? One of infinite... or 1 and 0, creation and destruction, sandwiched between two 8s, two Vriskas with perpendicular orientations, Vriska and Vrissy? Hmm...

Oh thank fucking god we're back...

HAH

thanks so much I needed that mood lifter XD

{Level Complete!}

Thanks for ENDING it too, holy shit. I don't think I could have taken much longer of something THAT heavy tonight. Wow, that was masterfully done... not dragged out, just enough to get to the true point. To a setup for her decision, for her personal answer to the Ultimate Riddle.

Which makes plenty of sense why the NEXT section seems like it's likely a weird colorless version of one of Davepetasprite^2's feathers. They're the perfect person to talk to about her Soul/Heart, the greater self and the meaning of Ultimate Freedom, just as they hinted at during their last big talk in Homestuck.

--Yeah, she didn't get as much help from that as she would have wanted... and now the candle is ABSOLUTELY burning down.

The glimpse of the next unclaimed tiers, here... are these hinting at the start of the next section? We have her inhibitions bound, then a reference to a child development psychologist, then a somatic spark-- physical contact?! Then Deja Vu, a flash of the past (or possibly even meeting her GHOST self from the ghost rain, the more vulnerable (Vriska) inverted to Page of Void mode that she BERATED TO TEARS back toward the end of Homestuck to prove how much more (Vriska) had grown than Vriska before leaving her crying and for Ghost Terezi from the pre-retcon timeline to meet)... Heuristic Grace, getting her luck back possibly... burning, getting hotter, and then a transcendental gleam? No, no that's got to just be a candle and it burning out the rest of the singularity... I still don't think Ultimate Vriska is the solution to all this, could it be?

Oh shit, I forgot about how the BLACK CANDLE is burning down due to VRISKA'S blue flame.

Recall my proposals at the beginning of this post? I completely forgot about yet one more opportunity for her escape:

(4) That Vriska's Light has been burning away at the singularity of the Plot Point this entire time, and will naturally destroy it no matter what, especially if she embraces her Agency and her inner Light. The Green Sun was not just a symbol of Light but an ultimate manifestation of Space power... and collapsed into a singularity, it could indeed also have been not just a Void but an ultimate manifestation of Time power. The years, sweeps, that Vriska is spending inside of it could be wearing it away all on its own, rapidly exhausting a reservoir of Time that alt!Calliope preserved at the center of the singularity just to give the noncanon timeline more time to exist than it otherwise would have had?!! Instead, Vriska is burning it up, and the sprites and ghosts who fell into the Black Hole during the Ghost Rain and concentrated themselves in this singularity are helping her use that naturally limited Time to arm herself and become the best version of herself she can be, so when the Plot Point collapses and shit really starts hitting the fan for the Candy timeline, they can execute a NEW plan to breach into the Canon/Meat timeline and do something so incredibly important that it reseats the timelines outside Paradox Space in new relevance stolen out from Canon. Something incredibly important, like unexpectedly facilitating Sburb's creation in what Dirk and Rosebot are trying to do, or sendificating the kids the final frog they used to create this Universe, or something, which came from somewhere we've still never resolved...

So many interesting possibilities here. And only two or three more updates until we'll know for sure what and how!

I'll probably continue to be too busy the next week or two to be in the mood to chew through bonus material or commentary. Talk to you next upd8 instead, most likely! :D

[kat-thepoet]

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Part 8: COMMITMENT

A/N: HIIII just want to thank everyone who has been showing support and love!!! its appreciated and I hope you guys are liking the story! OK BYEEE⭐️💜💜🩷🩵💛

Previous Chapters ☞ HERE ☜

7.3k words

The smell of pancakes and the sizzling sound of bacon pulled me from sleep, my eyes fluttering open to the soft light filtering through the curtains. The bed beside me was empty, though the imprint of Logan's body was still visible on the sheets. I was naked, the cool air brushing against my skin, and that's when the memories of last night came rushing back, overwhelming my senses.

My heart raced as I lay there, the weight of what had happened settling in. The intensity of our night together, the raw passion we had shared—had it been a mistake? A swirl of doubt crept into my mind. What if I had ruined everything between us? What if he had only wanted me in the heat of the moment, and now that it was over, he would return to his moody, distant self? The thought gnawed at me, making my chest tighten with fear.

But before I could spiral further into my thoughts, Logan walked in, carrying a plate in his hand. The sight of him caught me off guard—he looked different. His usual brooding expression was replaced by something lighter, almost unrecognizable. There was a softness in his eyes, a brightness that made my breath hitch.

"Good morning," he said, his voice warm and chipper, a tone I wasn't used to hearing from him. "How did you sleep?"

I blinked, still processing the change in him. "Good morning. I slept... fine. How did you sleep?" My voice was hesitant, unsure of how to navigate this new version of him as he handed me the plate, neatly arranged with two pieces of bacon and a perfectly golden pancake.

"I slept better than ever," he replied with a smile—an actual smile—that I had never seen on his face before. It was genuine, filled with a contentment that sent a wave of warmth through me.

I studied him for a moment, my heart still beating a little too fast. This was Logan, but different—a side of him I had only glimpsed before. And as I looked into his eyes, all the doubts and fears that had been swirling in my mind began to fade. He wasn't distant, he wasn't moody—he was here, fully present, and there was something in his gaze that told me last night hadn't been just a moment of passion for him. It had meant something more.

I bit my lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I looked down at the plate. "You made me breakfast?" I asked, a bit of surprise in my voice.

"Of course," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. "After last night... I wanted to make sure you woke up to something good."

His touch was gentle, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made my heart swell. The Logan I knew was still there—the rough, gruff exterior—but now there was something else, something softer and more vulnerable that he was letting me see. And it wasn't just about the sex; it was about him opening up to me in a way he hadn't before.

"I... I was worried," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I thought maybe... maybe you'd regret it."

Logan's expression softened even more, his hand still lingering on my cheek. "Regret it? Violet, I've wanted this for a long time. I was just too damn scared to admit it to myself. But after last night... there's no going back. I don't want to go back to pretending I don't feel anything."

His words sent a rush of relief through me, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "I don't want to go back either," I confessed, the last of my fears melting away."Good," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Because you mean too much to me, Violet. I don't want to lose what we have. I want more."

The sincerity in his eyes, the way he was looking at me—it was everything I hadn't dared to hope for. I smiled, a real smile this time, as I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I want more too, Logan."

As we pulled back, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in this moment of quiet understanding. Whatever doubts or fears I had woken up with had disappeared, replaced by a certainty that we were on the same page—moving forward together. Logan gave me another smile, that rare, genuine one that made my heart flutter, and he picked up the fork, offering me the first bite of the pancake. "Here," he said with a grin, "you've got to try this. I make a mean pancake."

I laughed softly, feeling lighter than I had in a long time as I accepted the bite. "I can't wait to see what else you've got up your sleeve, Lo."

He chuckled, his hand resting on my knee as he watched me eat. "Oh, you have no idea, V." And with that, the day began—simple, easy, and filled with a warmth that came from knowing that whatever happened next, we were in this together. 

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Today, we decided it was time to go bed shopping. After last night, it was clear that Logan's bed had seen its final days, but instead of just replacing it, I had a different idea. We barely fit in my bed as we slept, and the thought of having more space—of truly sharing a bed that was ours—felt right. So, we decided to buy a bigger bed for my room and move my current bed into Logan's room. It was a practical solution, but it also felt like a step forward in whatever this thing between us was becoming.

I hadn't been to Ikea in ages, and when I suggested it, Logan gave me a curious look, clearly unfamiliar with the place. I couldn't believe it. "I can't believe you've never been to Ikea. Do you not have them in your universe?" I teased as we got into the taxi, the city's hustle and bustle surrounding us.

He chuckled, that low, gravelly sound that always sent a warm shiver through me. "No, we do. I just never had the need to go into one." As he spoke, he draped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. It was such a simple gesture, but it made my heart skip a beat. The Logan I knew was tough, stoic, but these little moments of affection were starting to become more common, and I couldn't help but cherish them.

"Well, you're in for a treat," I said with a grin, leaning into his embrace. "Ikea is... an experience."He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my enthusiasm. "An experience, huh? Guess I'll have to see what all the fuss is about."

As the taxi wound its way through the streets, I found myself stealing glances at Logan, still trying to wrap my head around the changes between us. The man who had once been so closed off was now sitting beside me, casually holding me close, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was—maybe this was the new normal for us. The thought filled me with a warmth I hadn't expected, a quiet contentment that settled deep in my chest.

When we arrived at Ikea, Logan's eyes widened slightly at the sheer size of the place. "This place is huge," he muttered, his grip on my shoulder tightening just a bit, as if he wasn't quite sure what to expect.

I laughed softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, it's pretty overwhelming at first, but don't worry—I'll guide you through it. Just stick with me, and you'll be fine."

As we stepped inside, I could see Logan's eyes taking in everything—the rows of furniture, the bright displays, the odd combination of practicality and chaos that defined Ikea. It was all so new to him, and it made me smile, watching him experience it for the first time. There was something almost endearing about the way he tried to act nonchalant, even as I could tell he was secretly intrigued.

"So, what's first?" he asked, glancing down at me with that half-smirk that always made my heart skip a beat.

"First, we need to find the bedroom section," I said, pulling him toward the signs that pointed us in the right direction. "And then, we'll find the perfect bed for us."

"Perfect bed, huh?" Logan echoed, a teasing note in his voice as he followed me through the winding aisles. "Does it come with guarantees? Like, won't break under... certain conditions?"

I felt my cheeks flush at the memory of last night, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Well, maybe we should get one with a sturdier frame this time," I teased back, nudging him with my elbow. "Just in case."

Logan chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Yeah, probably a good idea."

As we made our way through the showroom, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. This—shopping for a bed together, teasing each other about last night—felt right. It wasn't just about the bed; it was about us, about building something together, even if it was just a piece of furniture. And as I looked up at Logan, who was now seriously inspecting a bed frame with a thoughtful expression, I realized that I was ready for this, for whatever came next.

We wandered through the maze of showrooms, testing out different beds and debating the merits of each one. But when we finally found the bed, I knew it was perfect. The frame was made of rich, dark wood with a sleek, modern design that fit perfectly with the aesthetic of my room. It had a sturdy build that immediately made me feel more confident that it could handle whatever Logan and I might throw at it.

The size was a significant upgrade too—a queen, much larger than the full-sized bed I had before. It felt right, like it could finally be the kind of bed where Logan and I could stretch out without feeling cramped. I could already picture it in my room, the centerpiece of a space that was evolving, just like our relationship.

"Looks like it's a winner," Logan said, running his hand over the smooth wood of the headboard. His approval brought a smile to my face; it felt like we were making this choice together, as a team.

With the bed frame decided, I turned my attention to the bedding. I couldn't resist picking out a new comforter—a soft, plush pink one that added a touch of warmth and femininity to the room. For the sheets, I went with a set of light blue ones adorned with delicate floral patterns. They were simple yet elegant, the perfect complement to the dark wood of the bed frame.

As we made our way to the checkout, the excitement of our purchase was momentarily overshadowed by a realization—how were we going to get all of this home? The bed frame and mattress were far too large to fit in a taxi, and there was no way we could carry them ourselves. I glanced at Logan, who was eyeing the flat-packed boxes with a slight frown. "I think we might have a problem," I said, biting my lip.

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, we didn't exactly think this through."

I pulled out my phone and quickly scrolled through my contacts until I found Wade's number. He was always up for a favor, especially if it involved something out of the ordinary. I hit the call button and waited as it rang.

"Hey, Wade," I said when he picked up. "Logan and I are at Ikea, and we kind of... underestimated the size of what we bought. We need a truck. Any chance you could help us out?"

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a laugh. "Ikea, huh? Never pegged you two as the domestic type. But sure, I'm in. I'll bring a rental truck your way. You owe me, though. This is prime time I could be spending doing absolutely nothing."

I couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Wade. I owe you one."

After I hung up, I turned to Logan, who was watching me with a raised eyebrow. "Wade's on his way with a rental truck," I said, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

Logan grinned, a look of amusement in his eyes. "Never thought I'd be relying on Wade for a furniture move, but here we are."

I laughed, the tension from earlier dissolving into the comfortable banter that had always come so naturally between us. "I think we might be in for some commentary from him when he gets here," I said, already anticipating the jokes Wade would undoubtedly make about us buying a bed together.

Logan shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Let him say what he wants. We'll have our bed, and that's all that matters."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words. He was right—this was our bed, our space, and nothing else really mattered. We had found something that was perfect for us, and soon, we'd be taking it home to start this next chapter together. We didn't have to wait long before Wade pulled up in the rental truck, parking with a screech that turned heads. He hopped out with that familiar mischievous grin, clearly up to no good.

"Alright, lovebirds! What's the deal? You two finally got busy and broke the bed, huh?" Wade said, eyeing the boxes with a knowing smirk.

Logan's jaw tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Wade, just shut the fuck up and open the door," he growled, though a hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

But Wade was relentless. "Oh, come on, Wolvie! You should be proud—you broke a bed! I bet it was like a scene out of '50 Shades of Wolverine.'" He winked at me. "Vi, need any aftercare? I've got magic hands."

"Wade," I sighed, rolling my eyes, "just open the truck, okay?"

Wade finally relented, though not without more commentary as we loaded the boxes. "Seriously, though, next time, take it easy on the furniture. Or, you know, call me for tips. I'm here to help!"

Logan shook his head, clearly done with Wade's antics. "Get in the truck before I lose my shit," he muttered, pulling me close as we climbed in.

As Wade drove off, still grinning, Logan leaned in and whispered, "Next time, we're taping his mouth shut."

I laughed, leaning into him. "Deal."

And with that, we headed home, Wade's endless jokes fading into the background as I focused on Logan's warmth beside me, feeling content in this new chapter together.

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When we got home, I decided to make things easier by using my telekinesis to help the boys bring the furniture into the apartment. The boxes floated effortlessly through the air, guided by my hands, while Logan and Wade looked on—Wade, of course, with a mix of amusement and awe.

"Show off," Wade teased, though I could tell he was grateful not to have to carry anything heavy. 

Once everything was inside, Wade headed out to return the truck to one of his buddies, leaving Logan and me alone in the apartment. We exchanged a glance, a shared sense of accomplishment as we looked at the neatly stacked boxes.

"Ready to build a bed?" I asked, grinning at Logan. 

"Let's do it," he replied with a smirk.

We got to work, unpacking the bed frame and setting up the pieces in my room. It was a surprisingly smooth process, considering how easily we'd gotten distracted the last time we were in here. While Logan focused on assembling the frame, I slipped out to throw the new sheets into the wash, humming to myself as I imagined how everything would come together. By the time I returned, Logan had already made good progress. I jumped in to help, and soon enough, the frame was complete. We unboxed the mattress, letting it expand in the middle of the room while the sheets finished washing. It was all coming together, a tangible symbol of the new phase in our relationship.

As we stood back to admire our handiwork, I felt a sense of satisfaction settle over me. We had done this together, built something that was ours. And as simple as it might seem, it felt like a big step forward.

Logan caught my eye, a small smile playing on his lips. "Looks good," he said, his voice warm."Yeah," I agreed, smiling back. "It really does."

For lunch, we decided to do something a little different—a picnic. I guess you could call it our first date, though it was low-key enough that I wasn't entirely sure if it counted. Still, the idea of spending time with Logan, just the two of us, felt right.

I packed a simple meal: sandwiches, some fruit, water, and a few snacks. We left the apartment and strolled to the park just a block away. The weather was perfect—sunny with a slight breeze that cooled the air around us, making it one of those days where everything seemed just a little brighter.

When we arrived at the park, it was fairly quiet, with only a few people scattered around. We found a nice spot under a large tree, away from everyone else, where the shade provided a cool retreat from the sun. Logan spread out the blanket on the grass, smoothing it down before gesturing for me to sit.

As we settled down, I couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate the simplicity of it all. It wasn't extravagant, it wasn't planned down to the last detail—it was just us, enjoying each other's company in a way that felt so natural. 

"This is nice," Logan said, leaning back on his hands and glancing around the park."Yeah," I agreed, pulling out the food. "It really is."

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the peaceful surroundings. The breeze rustled the leaves above us, casting dappled shadows on the blanket, and the sun warmed our skin just enough to be soothing.

As I sat there, eating next to Logan and enjoying the peaceful moment, a thought crept into my mind. We'd been spending so much time together lately, getting closer in ways I hadn't anticipated, but there was still so much we hadn't talked about—things that felt important. We'd never really delved into the serious stuff, like where he came from and how his life here was different from the one he'd known before. 

As I chewed on my sandwich, my thoughts began to drift to those unspoken topics, wondering what his life had been like before he ended up in this world. But then, as if my mind was pulling up the memories on cue, Wade's voice crept in, reminding me of a conversation we'd had not too long ago.

It had been one of those moments when Wade was more serious than usual, a rare occurrence that made me pay attention. He'd mentioned Jean—a name that held weight in Logan's past, a name that was always spoken with a mix of reverence and regret. Wade had told me a little about her, enough to make me understand that she was someone who had meant a great deal to Logan, someone who had left a deep scar.

I hadn't pressed Logan about Jean, sensing that it was a wound still too raw to poke at. But now, sitting beside him in this quiet park, I couldn't help but wonder how much of his past was still affecting him, still holding him back from fully embracing whatever it was we were building together.

Did he think about her often? Did he compare me to her? The thoughts were unsettling, making me feel a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Part of me wanted to ask, to open up that line of conversation and finally get the answers to the questions that had been lingering in the back of my mind. But another part of me hesitated, unsure if now was the right time—or if I was ready to hear what he might say.

Logan looked over at me, clearly trying to get my attention, but I was too lost in my thoughts to notice. The memories of what Wade had told me about Jean swirled in my mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. I could feel the weight of her name, the impact she must have had on Logan, and it gnawed at me in a way I hadn't expected.

Without fully realizing it, I found myself blurting out, "Who's Jean?"The question hung in the air between us, heavy and unplanned. Logan's relaxed demeanor shifted immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

"How do you know about her?" he asked, his voice low, laced with a mix of caution and surprise.

I hesitated, realizing that I had just stumbled into territory I wasn't sure I was ready to navigate. But there was no turning back now. I took a deep breath and decided to be honest. 

"The first night you spent at my apartment... when you stabbed me— you were having that nightmare—I woke you up because you were yelling her name."

Logan's expression darkened, and for a moment, I regretted bringing it up. His eyes, which had been soft and warm just minutes ago, were now clouded with a storm of emotions. He looked away, staring off into the distance as if trying to collect his thoughts, or maybe just trying to escape from them. I waited, unsure of what to say, unsure if I should have even asked. But I couldn't take it back now. I could only hope that he would trust me enough to open up, to let me in, even if it was just a little.

After what felt like an eternity, Logan finally spoke, his voice rough and tinged with pain. "Jean... she was someone important to me. Someone I cared about. But I couldn't save her. I tried, but... I failed."He paused, his fists clenching and unclenching as if he was grappling with memories too painful to fully confront. 

"I think about her every day. About what I could have done differently, about how things might have been if I'd been stronger, better. It's something that never really goes away."

I felt a pang of sadness for him, understanding now that the scars he carried weren't just physical—they ran much deeper, rooted in a loss that still haunted him. 

"Logan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No," he interrupted, his gaze shifting back to me, softer now, but still guarded.

 "It's okay. You deserve to know. I've been trying to move on, to let go of the past, but it's not easy. Jean... she was everything to me, and losing her... it broke something inside me."His words were raw, filled with a vulnerability that I wasn't sure he had ever shown anyone before. 

It made my heart ache for him, for the weight he carried alone for so long."I'm not her," I said quietly, not as a statement of fact, but as an acknowledgment of the difference between us, and the space she still occupied in his heart.

Logan shook his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of sorrow and something else—something that felt like hope.

 "I know you're not. And that's a good thing, Violet. You're you. And that's... more than enough."His words, simple as they were, held a depth of emotion that made me realize how much this moment meant to him. 

It wasn't just about Jean—it was about the possibility of healing, of moving forward, and maybe even finding a way to open his heart again. I reached out, placing my hand on his, offering what little comfort I could. 

"You don't have to carry it all alone, Logan. I'm here. And whatever you're going through, whatever you need... I'm here." Logan's grip tightened on my hand, his eyes searching mine as if he was trying to find something—maybe reassurance, maybe just a reason to believe that he could finally let go of the past.  

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

 "Well, now that we talked about me, talk about you. Where you came from and tell me how you met that one guy Strucker." He asked me as he caressed my hand.

I took a deep breath, settling next to him, our hands still intertwined. "My grandparents died when I was 19. I was so mad at everyone because they died just like my parents, in a car crash. It wasn't fair; I felt like I was cursed, and I didn't know what to do. So, I started drinking. I didn't really like it at first, but the burn in my throat was addictive, and the feeling of getting drunk was overwhelming—but not as overwhelming as their death. So I kept drinking and doing nothing but partying."

I took another breath, the memories clearly painful. "I became a regular at this one pub in Oregon. After one night of drinking, I was walking home when I got kidnapped. That was Strucker. He experimented on me, and that's how I got my powers—by touching a gem that was in that scepter I showed you guys yesterday. I was with him for a year, training in hand-to-hand combat, and then I eventually started killing."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I recounted my story to Logan. He placed a comforting hand on my back, rubbing in gentle circles to calm me down.

"They used a machine to control me, and I couldn't do anything about it. I could feel their pain as I killed them, and it still haunts me when I'm alone with my thoughts. You know, I don't need to work, but it's the only thing that keeps my mind busy, or else I spiral. I eventually escaped and moved to a different state," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. 

"But they found me, so I moved again. And again, and again, and again... until I moved here. I've been here for about seven years now." I paused, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "After I didn't sense them trying to find me anymore, I got a job and an apartment. I tried to build a life, something normal."

I glanced at Logan, his eyes never leaving mine, offering silent support.

"Then I met Wade and Vanessa... and then I met you," I added, my voice softening as I looked into his eyes, feeling a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

In that moment, he gently cupped my face, his touch warm and comforting. Without a word, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly against mine. It was a tender, reassuring kiss that spoke of unspoken promises. When he pulled back, there was a small, genuine smile on his face.

"I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again. Never," he said, his voice firm but filled with a quiet intensity that made my heart swell.

I looked at him, feeling a deep sense of safety and comfort that I hadn't felt in a long time. Without saying anything, I snuggled up next to him, resting my head against his chest. We sat there in silence, the weight of our shared pasts easing as we simply held each other, finding solace in the quiet connection between us.

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As Logan was in the shower, I heard a quick knock at the door—a knock I immediately recognized. Without hesitation, I walked over and opened it, already knowing who would be on the other side.

"Hi, Wade," I greeted him with a smile.

Wade stood there, a rare serious expression on his face, which was unusual enough to catch my attention. "Hey, can we talk?" he asked, his tone more subdued than usual.

"Sure, come in," I said, stepping aside to let him enter.

We moved over to the couch, and as we sat down, I couldn't help but notice the way he was fidgeting, clearly anxious about something. His usual carefree demeanor was replaced with a look of genuine concern, which only made me more curious.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning in slightly, trying to read his expression.

Wade took a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before he blurted out, "I'm going to propose to Vanessa."

For a second, I just stared at him, processing his words. But then, the realization hit me, and I couldn't contain my excitement. I jumped up from the couch and threw my arms around him in a tight hug. "Oh my God, Wade! I'm so happy for you!"

Wade chuckled, a bit of his usual humor returning as he hugged me back. "You think she'll say yes?" he asked, pulling back slightly to look at me, the vulnerability in his eyes clear.

"Of course she will!" I said, my voice full of certainty. "You're an amazing guy, Wade, and she loves you so much. She's going to be over the moon."

Wade's serious expression softened, a small smile creeping onto his face. "I hope so. I just... I want to make sure I do it right, you know?"

I nodded, still smiling. "You will. Just be yourself, Wade. That's the guy she fell in love with, and that's who she's going to say yes to."

Wade let out a breath he'd been holding, his shoulders relaxing a little. "Thanks, Vi. That means a lot coming from you."

"Anytime," I replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "And if you need any help planning, you know I'm here for you."

Wade grinned, some of his usual mischief returning to his eyes. "I might take you up on that. I've got some ideas, but I could use a little... finessing."

We both laughed, the moment of seriousness giving way to the usual easy camaraderie between us. It felt good to be part of something so special, to see Wade genuinely happy and excited about the future. And I knew, without a doubt, that Vanessa was going to be just as thrilled as I was.

Wade's grin widened, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "So, how about you come with me tomorrow to pick out the ring?" he suggested, his tone slipping back into its usual witty, playful demeanor. "I could really use a woman's advice. You know, make sure I don't pick out something completely awful."

I laughed, shaking my head at him. "Sure, Wade. I'd love to help. But honestly, I don't think you could mess this up even if you tried."

"Oh, you'd be surprised at my ability to screw things up," he quipped, giving me a mock-serious look before breaking into a smile. "But seriously, I appreciate it, Vi. It means a lot."

"Anything for you, Wade," I replied with a warm smile. "We'll find the perfect ring for Vanessa, I promise."

"Perfect," Wade said, clapping his hands together, clearly pleased. "I'll pick you up bright and early. We've got some serious ring shopping to do."

"Looking forward to it," I said, still smiling as I watched Wade's excitement bubble over.

Wade stood up, giving me one last playful wink before heading for the door. "Alright, I'm off. See you tomorrow, partner in crime."

"See you tomorrow," I called after him, shaking my head fondly as he left.

As the door closed behind him, I couldn't help but feel a warm glow in my chest. Wade was finally going to take that next step with Vanessa, and I was honored to be a part of it. Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day, and I couldn't wait to help him find the perfect ring for the woman he loved.

As Logan stepped out of the shower, I was already in the kitchen, gathering ingredients for dinner. I had decided to try something new—a Mexican dish I found online: enchiladas. The idea of making something different excited me, and I hoped Logan would enjoy it too.

The aroma of spices began to fill the kitchen as I sautéed onions and spices, the sizzle of the pan comforting in its familiarity. I glanced over my shoulder as Logan walked in, his hair still damp from the shower, dressed in his usual casual attire. He walked behind me and put his hands around my waist as he gave me a kiss on my cheek.

"Hey," I greeted him with a smile, stirring the mixture in the pan. "I'm trying my hand at enchiladas tonight. Found the recipe online and thought it might be fun."

Logan leaned closer over my shoulder as he gaze softening as he watched me cook. "Smells good already," he said, his voice a low rumble.

"Let's hope it tastes as good as it smells," I replied with a grin, feeling a little flutter in my chest at the way he was touching me.

As I continued to cook, Logan moved to help, setting the table and pouring us both a drink. It had become a sort of unspoken routine between us—me cooking, him helping with the little things. It was simple, domestic even, but it made me feel grounded, like we were building something together, even if neither of us said it out loud.

By the time the enchiladas were ready, the kitchen was filled with a rich, savory aroma that made my stomach growl in anticipation. I carefully placed the baking dish on the table, serving up portions for both of us.

"Moment of truth," I said with a smile, handing Logan his plate.

He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before looking up at me with a nod of approval. "You've outdone yourself this time," he said, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. "Glad you like it. It's nice to try something different."

We ate in comfortable silence, the warmth of the meal and the quiet companionship between us making the evening feel complete. As the night went on, I realized that these moments, simple as they were, had become something I cherished deeply.

 ⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

The next day arrived, and I was in the middle of getting ready to go to the jewelry store with Wade. As I carefully applied my makeup, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and disbelief. "Can you believe that Wade and Vanessa are getting married?" I said, my voice carrying the thrill of the moment as I glanced at Logan, who was lounging nearby.

Logan chuckled, his usual laid-back demeanor evident. "We don't even know if she's going to say yes," he replied, a teasing tone in his voice.

I shot him a playful look, pausing with my mascara wand in hand. "Oh, come on. You know she's going to say yes. They're perfect for each other."

Logan's smile softened, and he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, they are," he admitted, his tone more sincere. "Wade's lucky to have her."

"And she's lucky to have him," I added, finishing up my makeup and stepping back to admire my reflection. "I just hope I can help him pick out the perfect ring."

Logan watched me with a thoughtful expression, his eyes following my movements. "You'll do fine. You've got good taste."

I smiled at him through the mirror, feeling a warmth in my chest at his words. "Thanks, Logan. I just want it to be special for them, you know?"

He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "I know. And it will be."

With a final touch of lipstick, I turned to face him, my excitement bubbling up again. "Alright, I'm ready. Wish me luck."

"Good luck," Logan said, his voice holding a note of affection that made my heart skip a beat.

I said my goodbye with a kiss on his soft lips and I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, ready to help Wade take the next big step in his relationship with Vanessa.

I knocked on Wade's door, waiting for him to answer. When the door finally swung open, there he was, dressed in casual clothes, but the real kicker was the ridiculous toupee perched on his head, looking like it had been swiped from the clearance bin of a costume shop.

I couldn't help but snort, raising an eyebrow as I took in his appearance. "Nice hair," I said, barely able to keep a straight face.

Wade beamed, running a hand over the toupee like it was the finest wig money could buy. "Thanks! I thought I'd class it up today. You know, gotta look my best when I'm about to drop some serious cash on a rock. The hair really seals the deal, don't you think?"

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. "You're something else, Wade. But if that thing scares off the jeweler, you're on your own."

He gave me a mock offended look, clutching his chest. "Oh, ye of little faith! This toupee screams 'man with excellent taste.' Vanessa's going to swoon when she sees the ring I pick with this baby on my head."

"Uh-huh," I replied, still grinning. "Ready to go find that ring, Mr. Sophisticated?"

"Born ready," Wade shot back, giving me a conspiratorial wink. "Let's go make Vanessa the happiest woman alive—and let's face it, she already is, but this is just the cherry on top of the Wade sundae."

I rolled my eyes, laughing as he linked his arm through mine. "You're such an idiot."

"And that's why you keep me around!" Wade declared, puffing out his chest as we headed down the hallway. "Now, let's get to that jewelry store before this toupee takes on a life of its own."

We arrived at the jewelry store, the bell above the door chiming softly as we stepped inside. The place was gleaming with all sorts of shiny, expensive things—rows upon rows of sparkling rings, necklaces, and earrings displayed under the bright lights. Wade immediately gravitated toward the rings, his eyes scanning the cases with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

"Alright, where's the ring that says 'I'm the luckiest guy in the world and you'd be crazy to say no'?" Wade muttered to himself as he leaned over one of the cases, his brow furrowed in concentration.

I couldn't help but chuckle as I followed him. "You've got this, Wade. Just find something that screams 'Vanessa.'"

Wade nodded, but he was clearly feeling the pressure. His eyes darted from one ring to the next, his usual confidence wavering for a moment. "What if I pick the wrong one? What if she doesn't like it? What if she takes one look at it and thinks, 'Wow, Wade's lost his touch'?"

I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You know her better than anyone. Trust your gut—and maybe that little voice in your head that's always telling you to be just a tad less ridiculous."Wade flashed a quick grin, the tension easing slightly. "Yeah, you're right. Less ridiculous... for a few minutes, at least."

We continued browsing, with Wade picking up rings and then putting them back down just as quickly, muttering things like, "Too sparkly," "Not sparkly enough," and "Is this thing made of tinfoil?" under his breath.

Finally, his eyes landed on a ring—a simple but elegant design with a single, dazzling diamond in the center, flanked by smaller stones that caught the light beautifully. He paused, staring at it for a long moment, and I could see something click in his expression.

"This one," he said quietly, almost to himself. "This is it. It's perfect."

I looked at the ring and then back at Wade, who was surprisingly serious for once. "It's beautiful, Wade. I think Vanessa's going to love it."

He nodded, a small, genuine smile creeping onto his face. "Yeah... yeah, I think so too."

As we walked back to Wade's apartment, the ring safely tucked away in a little velvet box, I could feel a sense of excitement bubbling up between us. Wade was practically buzzing with nervous energy, and I was thrilled to be a part of this moment for him and Vanessa. The conversation flowed easily, mostly about how Wade was going to propose and all the ridiculous scenarios he'd imagined in his head.

But as we turned the corner, I hesitated, my thoughts drifting to the conversation I had with Logan recently. It was something I hadn't told anyone yet, but it felt right to share it with Wade now, especially since we were talking about serious things.

"Wade," I started, glancing over at him as we walked, "there's something I need to tell you."

He looked at me, curiosity piqued. "Uh-oh, this sounds serious. Did you finally break down and tell Logan that you think his hair's better when it's all wild and Wolverine-y?"

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "No, not that. But... I did talk to him about Jean."

Wade's playful expression shifted to something more thoughtful. "Oh... Jean. Ballsy.""Yeah," I nodded, my tone softening. "He opened up about her, about what happened. It was... intense. I think it's why he's been so distant, you know? He's carrying a lot of guilt over it."

Wade sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, that's Logan for you. The guy's got enough guilt to fill a library, and he's always trying to handle it on his own. But you got him to talk about it? That's big."

"I know," I said quietly. "He's been through so much, and I just wanted him to know that he doesn't have to go through it alone. I think it helped... a little."

Wade gave me a sideways glance, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "You're good for him, you know that? The grumpy old wolf needs someone like you to keep him from going off the deep end."

I smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through me at Wade's words. "I'm just trying to be there for him, like he's been there for me."

Wade nodded, his tone becoming more serious. "Yeah, well, just don't let him push you away too much. Logan's got this bad habit of thinking he's gotta do everything on his own, but we both know that's a load of crap. Keep poking at him, and eventually, he'll get it through that thick skull of his."

I chuckled at that. "I'll do my best, Wade."

As we reached his apartment building, Wade stopped and turned to me, his expression sincere. 

"Thanks for telling me, Vi. And for, you know, looking out for him."

"Of course," I said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "We're all in this together, right?"

Wade grinned, the playful glint returning to his eyes. "Damn right. Now let's get back inside before Logan realizes we've been talking about him and goes all 'brooding hero' on us."

I laughed at his remark, but then a thought suddenly struck me. "Wait, when are you going to propose to Vanessa?" I asked, turning to face him.

Wade flashed a grin, looking almost too pleased with himself. "Tonight," he said, his voice full of excitement.

"Tonight?" I echoed, feeling a mix of surprise and anticipation. "Do you have everything planned? What exactly are you planning to do?"

Wade wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. "Oh, I've got it all planned out. Trust me, it's going to be epic. Picture this: a romantic dinner, candles, roses, the works. And then, just when she thinks it's all just a nice evening, bam—I drop to one knee, whip out the ring, and hit her with the most charming proposal this side of a rom-com."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Wow, Wade, that actually sounds... really sweet."

He gave a dramatic bow. "Why, thank you. I like to keep people on their toes, you know? Can't be all jokes and explosions all the time. Gotta throw in some romance to keep things interesting."I laughed again, shaking my head at him. "Well, I'm sure she's going to love it. Just make sure you don't trip over your own feet when you're down on one knee."

Wade placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. "Please, cupcake, I'm as graceful as a swan. A swan with a couple of swords and a very big mouth."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Well, good luck, Wade. I'm really happy for you two." "Thanks, Vi," he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. "It means a lot. And don't worry—I'll make sure this is a night Vanessa will never forget."

I laughed as I waved to him while I walked to my door, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me.

Part 9: Unexpected coincidence

[aihoshiino]

chapter 160 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 17

Aqua Hoshigan Status: Incomprehensible

144 held out strong for nearly 20 whole chapters but 160 comes in like a beast to take its crown as Oshi no Ko Chapter That Has Baffled And Confounded Me The Most. The way it talks about the characters and arcs it's trying to convey to the reader is just mind boggling - some of this stuff just feels completely disconnected from the character arcs it's supposedly commentating on. It almost feels like an Oshi no Ko chapter from an alternate universe version of the manga.

I kind of suspect this is actually the case, in spirit at least. Akasaka has previously stated that he's had at least an ending for OnK planned at least since midway through Tokyo Blade based on when this interview was given. You would think the amount of time between then and now would have given Aka the time to organically work towards this but I think the opposite is true here - because the story has organically drifted and grown in the telling, as is natural for a serialized work of this length, the story that Akasaka ended up telling does not naturally lead into the ending he wanted to give it. And rather than compromise he's just… going ahead with it without making any adjustments, which leads to this bizarre sense of whiplash that's come from the last handful of chapters.

It's definitely possible that some of the stuff in here will read better when we're not getting this stuff bit by bit across however many break weeks but… man. I ain't getting my hopes too high.

To my relief, we start off on a note of confirming that Nino and Ryosuke were, in fact, both freaks about Ai way before Kamiki ever got involved with them. Even so, the story's framing of how he influenced them is just… weird. Based on the little flashback panels we see of their supposed friendship I'm inclined to think Kamiki is being truthful here just because whenever we see on-panel flashbacks in this way, they tend to be more-or-less factual accounts of events. Aqua tries to say he's lying, that he definitely intended to do harm but this is really hard for me to swallow, given that this 'intent to do harm' ball would've had to have started rolling back when Kamiki was fourteen at the oldest and long before he and Ai broke up.

Not only that but I have to stress, again; Nino and Ryosuke were already freaks about Ai at this point!!! They tracked down one of her loved ones under false pretenses and entered his life presumably for the purposes of crowbarring info about Ai from him!!! Wil from the OnK Brainrot server pointed out that this comes off much more strongly like Ryosuke and Nino taking advantage of Kamiki's naivety to prey on Ai, which I agree with and think lines up way more straightforwardly with the Kamiki we saw leading up to 154 and its conclusion.

It almost feels like there's two Kamikis; the victim of circumstance Kamiki who embraces monstrousness as an act of reclamation, who knows he can never again be good so he will surrender to being bad and the flatly evil Light Yagami ass Kamiki who's bad because uhhh he just is ok? It probably goes without saying which of the two I find more compelling and overall more consistent with what the story has been building up so far, but the way the story keeps abruptly switching between the two makes it almost impossible to get a coherent read on him.

At the end of the day, I simply find it very hard to swallow the manga's attempt to almost sweep Nino and Ryosuke's culpability under the rug or to transfer the weight of their actions to Kamiki and hold him accountable for them because of this supposed manipulation. A healthy, well-adjusted person with no tendencies towards violent or antisocial behaviour does not suddenly get mindbroken into a misogynistic murderer overnight because they saw that the subject of their parasocial obsession keeps a toothbrush at her boyfriend's house. I can believe that Kamiki certainly didn't help but the idea that he is solely responsible for turning Nino and Ryosuke into violent murderers is a stretch.

I feel like I'm kind of talking in circles on this point a lot because I'm struggling to articulate why it bothers me so much so I'll end this section by paraphrasing a section of Higurashi YouTuber Bess's deep dive post-mortem on the GouSotsu anime duology. that I think sums up where I'm at.

In it, Bess quotes the original author in describing the actions of the overarching antagonist as "giving a gun to someone who is being bullied and getting emotional" and says that she agrees but points out that if the victim chooses to fire that gun, they are the ones who hold responsibility for their actions and that being the victim of manipulation does not suddenly rob them of accountability for their violence, whereas the framing of GouSotsu is that the overarching villain is the sole person who bears responsibility.

I feel like this is the dynamic at play here with Kamiki and Ryosuke/Nino too - except Kamiki, in this metaphor, didn't even fucking give anyone a gun because both Ryosuke and Nino were already armed to begin with. BUT I'LL MOVE ON NOW I SWEAR…

Aside from ^ ALL THAT ^ I also feel like this chapter's attempt to define the white/black hoshigan dichotomy is also just kind of a flop. It's so overly specific that it doesn't actually match with how the black OR white hoshigans have been portrayed symbolically before (was Aqua using his super special dark and evil star powers to dominate and manipulate others when he was eating potato chips and pumping up a pool floatie? come on, man) but it's also just so on the nose and overly dramatic that it comes off as kind of goofy and hard to take seriously.

It's also really funny and kind of frustration to see this dichotomy established seemingly for the purposes of just propping Ruby up some more. Aqua insisting that Ruby is ~just different~ from him and Hikaru REALLY flops because like… IS SHE REALLY THO???

Understand that I don't say this to shit on Ruby but like. Ruby literally had a whole arc about going black hoshigan and using her talent to manipulate and use people for her own benefit! She effectively utilized girl power to put the jobs of an entire TV show's worth of people at risk so she could clout chase a little more efficiently!!! Literally everything Kamiki tries to assert about him and Aqua are also perfect descriptions of how Ruby behaved during that leg of the manga until it flipped off like a switch and she faced literally zero consequences and learned nothing from it.

This is another indication to me that this conversation is an artifact of Akasaka's originally planned ending because this whole bit gassing up how Ruby is just ~so different~ from Kamiki and Aqua simply does not cohere with a story where Ruby had an entire arc of her just being Aqua 2.0 that was never really resolved and she never really learned anything from. If the framing here was just a LITTLE different, I think it could work - maybe instead of Aqua acting like Ruby is just intrinsically, arbitrarily Pure of Heart or whatever, a point could be made that Ruby is actively choosing to be a good and loving person even after all the shit she's been through and especially after an accidental taste of the dark side. But as it stands the accidental implication of the story ends up being that Ruby's BH era was Good, Actually and the actions she took during it were also good lol.

I continue to have all the same issues with the B-Komachi concert as I did in my previous chapter review so I won't repeat myself on that. I will, however, point out that the song Ruby namedrops in this chapter is a reference to Spica (where we translated it as 'When You Wish Upon Your Star'), in which this is a song written and performed by Ai as a message of support for her fans. That is to say, we are once again seeing Ruby, from a narrative perspective, not being allowed to stand on her own as her own idol but relying on the imagery and legacy of Ai's idolhood.

Not only that but… again, I must ask: why is Ruby the center and narrative focus of Kana's graduation concert? Like, obviously, given that Aqua and Kamiki are talking about her the framing is going to focus on Ruby but why is this conversation happening during a moment that had been massively built up to be about Kana? Why is Aqua talking about Ruby as an idol like the rest of B-Komachi just doesn't exist? Why is the narrative unironically indulging in all the same favoritism and coddling of Ruby that, in-universe, tore apart the first generation of B-Komachi?

I guess at the end of the day my problem is that I'm just kind of fed up with Ruby as a character and the way the story has been bending over backwards to coddle her so it's hard to me to get invested when the story goes YEAAAAHHH WOOOOOO RUBY!!!! Especially when, like it has been for a while now, this coddling comes not just at the expense of other characters but also at the expense of Ruby herself and the coherency and consistency of her character arc. It sucks for Ruby as a character and it sucks for me, as a reader, who used to rank Ruby as one of their top three faves but now just feels kind of exhausted with her.

LOOK OUT KAMIKI HE'S GOT A KNIFE

God this whole bit with Aqua getting double white hoshigans while he pulls a knife on Kamiki is just kind of too goofy to take seriously lol. I have some thoughts about how this potentially recontextualizes some of Aqua's actions through the Movie Arc and during the previous confrontation with Kamiki but. I just keep coming back to Aqua being like "white hoshigans means love r something which i'm going to prove by killing you in cold blood" and just shaking my head. It really feels like a moment written just to be a cliffhanger so, like I have with the last three damn chapters, I'll hold back any commentary on it until we get a continuation of this thread next week.

honestly the part of this chapter I enjoyed most was that creepypasta ass full page panel of Kamiki's fucked up smile. that genuinely really alarmed me when i first saw it and even now I don't like looking at it for too long or i get the willies lol. Genuinely fire horror imagery from Mengo as usual. Can she PLEEEEEEEEASE do a horror manga next i'm BEGGING to get spooked by mengo-sensei

no wait i lied. the best part was that cute panel of ai and her babies. <3

justice for memcho and kana, tho, for real

And I'm sure as none of you will be shocked to hear……….. break next week.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

✧*̥˚ my muses, acquired like bruises *̥˚✧

a collection of my fics inspired by taylor swift songs/lyrics, in honor of the release of THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

JOEL MILLER

cruel summer | au | explicit | chapters: 6/6

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise. He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

↳AO3 | Tumblr: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6

crimson red paint on my lips | post-outbreak | explicit | connected work

Joel Miller is an asshole. You should have known better than to show up at his door with your lips painted red. Connected to me and the devil and marked me like a bloodstain

↳AO3 | Tumblr

marked me like a bloodstain | post-outbreak | explicit | connected work

You save Joel’s life when the two of you are attacked on a smuggling run. He has an interesting way of saying thank you. Connected to crimson red paint on my lips and me and the devil

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karma is my boyfriend’s dad | au | explicit | connected work

Your boyfriend, Sean Miller, is an asshole. The one redeeming thing about him? His dad, Joel Miller. And he's just invited you along on the family vacation to Panama City Beach, Florida.

↳Tumblr

in a feud with her neighbor | au | explicit | connected work

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

↳Tumblr

bonus scenes: in a feud with her neighbor | au | PG-13 | connected work

Fluffy bonus scenes for "in a feud with her neighbor" as suggested by anon!

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toyin’ with them older guys | au | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder. But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation. Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

help me hold onto you | post-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

Joel always tries his best to keep his mind from wandering to its darkest corners, but occasionally, the frayed threads holding him together with sloppy stitches start to unravel. Sometimes you need to give him something to hold onto.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

seven | post-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller has spent twenty years pushing the grief and guilt surrounding the death of his daughter, Sarah, to the darkest recesses of his brain in favor of survival. Living a more quiet life in Jackson means the ghosts of his past have returned to haunt him. He finds his solace in you, the town librarian.

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the last great american dynasty | au | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up. He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream.

↳Tumblr | AO3

TOMMY MILLER

wrong place, right time | pre-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

What if Joel didn’t answer Tommy’s call from jail? And what if the waitress he’d been defending that night bailed him out instead?

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JAVIER PEÑA

i can see you (javier peña's version) | au | explicit | one-shot

When Javier Peña takes credit for your lead, you take revenge. Good thing you know Javier can't resist a girl in red lipstick.

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FRANKIE MORALES

my tears and my beers and my candles | au | explicit | one-shot

It’s been a bad week and you just need to have a good cry. You didn’t expect Frankie Morales, best friend and unrequited crush, to crash your pity party. He’s got some interesting ways of making you feel better. Maybe it’s not so unrequited after all.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

invisible string | au | explicit | one-shot

After fifteen years, the invisible string that ties you to Frankie Morales pulls you back together

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MIGUEL O'HARA

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version) | au | explicit | one-shot

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man. But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

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EDDIE MUNSON

the mark you saw on my collarbone | vampire au | explicit | connected work

A snippet of life with your human and your monster. A oneshot in the bat out of hell series

↳AO3

[beesmygod]

"A GHOST STORY" IS A WEBCOMIC I MAKE THAT I WILL BE RE-POSTING, GRADUALLY.

today: the top row are the old pages from 2013. the bottom ones are from 2018ish from the re-draw. due to the uhhhh. voluminous nature of my work, i will be posting more than one page sometimes. after we get past the re-draw, we will move through the story itself faster by posting multiple pages at a time.

in a way its kind of a relief to look at the pages from 2018 and go "ugh!!" since it means at least i've learned something since then. it would be a big problem if i didn't see any notable change over the past 6 years. the proportions of items make more sense in the 2018 version than the 2013. the body language is clearer. the speech bubbles are BETTER but still far from GOOD. notably, in the second panel of the first page of this set, jack goes from bonking his head and then reacting to it too late, to having his speech interrupted by his head bonk. better choice. he holding the wrong side of his head tho lol. well. live and learn. i didn't think to think of this stuff until now!

the third page of either version is a pretty weak page (the lighting in both is off-kilter) but in a way that's more emblematic of simply not knowing any better lol. the lighting and hands are whack. but it's the best i could do, at the time. both times. having your artistic education happen in full view of the public can be mortifying.

i think i forgot to mention this last time, but i made the majority of the pages from 2013 while working my desk job at a library. like i would draw at the checkout desk all night in between patrons. i would go to college from like 9am to (depending on the year) 7pm and then work my campus library shift until 1-2am (depending on the time of year). i was saving my money, and had been my whole life, to move out of the house and far away.

---

♥ read the comic: A Ghost Story ♥ support the comic for as little as $1 a month on Patreon ♥ pay what you want for the re-draw of the first chapter on itch.io

you can block the tag "#AGS repost" to keep this off your dash

[maskedemerald]

Weaving Webs CH7

Here is chapter seven of my Invisobang fic and the last one of the week! We are now half way through the fic but I need a little time to tidy up the other chapters because of IRL chaos so after this I'll be only posting one next week while catch up.

The wonderful @pricklenettle did some fantastic art that you'll see embedded through out the fic! If I had to pick I would say that this chapter has my favourite art but that is mostly because I was just so excited to see a certain gremlin Danny that shows up at the chapter's end!

You can check out the fic here or on AO3!

If you like this consider dropping us both a follow!

Warnings: Body horror, manipulation, Spectra is her own content warning, Burns, Spider - for like 2 chapters then it goes away.

The Fenton parents were there when the accident happened, they saw Danny die in an act of sabotage. Now they’re just trying to go on with the strange ghost that is all that's left of Danny. While their old college friend is wondering where the subjects of his revenge are.

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Chapter Seven

Maddie leant against Jack on the sofa, the week had left her drained from all the stress on top of the grief. She watched him stitch, the needle going in and out. His hoop had been returned, after some convincing. The hoarding behaviour hadn’t been an expected trait. The ghost was currently sitting on the floor cuddling Jazz’s Bearbert while Jazz was reading in the armchair.

Danny’s ghost made a strange popping noise, like pressure bubbling up against the glass face plate. It spasmed a shiver and then shook its head. A pale white mist hissing out of the cracks in the face plate. Maddie watched cautiously as it happened another two times. Was this it? Was this the ghost becoming more like what they expected? Or was it some other anomaly they hadn’t known ghosts did.

Jack beside her laughed, “hiccups? Were those hiccups? Can ghosts even have those?”

Maddie frowned, “that requires breathing Jack,” she stated.

There was little point considering the hypothesis. It might be something like a hiccup but an actual hiccup required breathing. Depressurization of the suit was more likely but that still required it to act more like the real physical version of the material and by this point the suit should have been long since depressurized with the torn open arm. It made the noise again, this time the spasm and noise harsher and longer lasting.

“A sneeze?” Jack questioned beside her.

Once again that required breathing. Also irritants and she couldn’t think what might have triggered that. Before she had much time to further ponder the strange action that seemed to be confusing the ghost as much as it was her. It tilted its head. Then there was a rush of green. Ecto green shapes bursting up from the floor. A swirl of limbs. Danny’s ghost carried off with them. Jazz scrambled back, knocking over the armchair.

Maddie leapt to her feet grabbing her ecto gun. One she wished she had reached for the moment the, for lack of a better word, hiccuping had started. Jack was not far behind her. Flashes of teeth and claws slashed at the ghost’s hazmat body, splattering green as they pulled it up through the ceiling followed by a couple of just too late shots from her blaster.

She rushed for the stairs, Jack behind her and Jazz clinging to him to avoid getting carried off as well. She hated that she was hoping that they were intentionally just targeting Danny’s ghost. At least the ghost would fare better than Jazz.

There was a crashing sound from their bedroom and she burst through the door. The ghost of a ragged looking wolf had been somehow thrown from the mass of ghosts attacking and into their mirrored closet door. It shook off and bounded back to the mass, she took it out with a strong blast that appeared to knock it out. She didn’t trust it but there wasn’t time for much more. The ghosts had to be dealt with before they ended up putting the ghost proofing of the roof to the test.

Jack had found the bazooka, she noted as he barreled into the room behind her as she shot into the mass trying to break up the ghosts. She didn’t get the chance to warn him to watch his aim. The blast fired, a large mass of charged ecto green. It slammed into the ghosts, repelling them till they impacted the walls. Danny’s ghost was not an exception and was the exception she had wanted to warn Jack to watch out for. She winced as it was thrown against the wall. A nasty thud and the sound of something impacting the glass of its visor.

No ghosts moved.

Maddie held her pistol ready, eyeing the other ghosts as she approached Danny’s. Jack rushed past her.

“Danno! Sorry… sorry! Arg… idiot,” he called himself.

The lights flickered overhead and the alarm clock whined. The ghost looked up, its eyes wide but dazed, green spots failing to actually meet his. A green splatter marked the inside of the visor glass where its forehead would have been. The suit scattered with scratches and cuts. There were clear bites glowing green as they leaked ecto.

She crouched down, “just a bump, the others took most of the blast. It will probably be fine Jack.”

“But… I shouldn’t have even… I just didn’t think about it affecting him.”

The ghost pushed itself up and slumped against Jack. Another whine.

“What a strange ghost,” Maddie commented, her grip tightened on her weapon for a moment, “it clearly doesn’t blame you.”

Jack gave a sad smile, “he still got hurt.”

“Pass it here, I’ll take it to the lab and do what I can to patch it up, while you check on Jazz,” she offered.

She was the one more experienced in first aid though how much use that would be to a ghost was another matter. Then there was the matter of Jazz, dealing with the defeated ghosts and making sure there wouldn’t be anymore.

Jack let her take the ghost from him, “any ideas what to do with the ghosts? The other ones?” she asked, they didn’t really have any tried and tested containment.

“There’s still some leftover anti-ecto insulation. I’ll grab it!”

She scooped up the ghost, finding it not quite what she had expected. She hadn’t really touched it before. It was cold yes and sent shivers down her spine from the cold but she hadn’t expected the feel of the hazmat to be so realistic. She avoided the burnt arm, not wanting to feel the cracked, charred skin.

Jazz lingered in the corridor, “is he going to be alright?... I mean… you know…” she asked looking worriedly up at the ghost in her arms.

“It will be fine, just going to get it patched up,” she comforted again. Probably best not to let Jazz know that Jack accidentally shot him. Jack didn’t need the worried big sister attitude right now. He already felt bad enough.

As they approached the lab stairs the lights above sparked and there was an electrical whine. The ghost started to squirm and phase awkwardly through her. It really was like it was concussed in the fact that it failed. Was there some sort of cognitive center like a brain that had hit some sort of outer shell during the impact.

She cringed as she found herself hushing the ghost like it was Danny. It was but it also wasn’t. Though would it really hurt that much to treat it like it right now. It was clear there was no malicious intent and it did seem to feel something.

She comforted it on the way down into the lab, mentally throwing out the ‘ghosts don’t have feelings research’ that she should have dealt with days ago. It became more and more aware as she did. More on edge. It’s grip tight but not struggling. Lights flickered and whined. The only light that didn’t change was the dreaded portal that green eyes latched onto. It… he stared at it as she set him down on a workbench as far from the portal as she could get.

Danny’s ghost sat on the bench, his legs swinging back and forth. They twisted between legs and half formed tail. Eyes darting around the room as the dazed state lowered. Still its eyes would always drift back to the portal. She would say the adrenaline of being taken back to a traumatic place had shook off the majority of the dazed state but ghosts didn’t have adrenaline.

Maddie paused as she hunted for the first aid kit, would it even be any use. She shook her head and pulled it out anyway before returning to Danny’s ghost.

She gently brushed the antiseptic over the fresh cuts in his exposed arm, it was hard to differentiate with the already mangled and burnt state of his arm. It also probably didn’t matter, he was a ghost and their previous studies indicated that any flesh was just a mimic of it. That as far as ghosts went even Danny’s hazmat was a mimic. That hazmat might well be his body now. Ectoplasm leaked from scratches in it just like it had from his exposed arm. As if it was his skin.

She eyed the extra glow beyond his visor, a splatter of ecto green. She hadn’t expected a ghost to be able to bruise. Not that ghosts had been anything like she had expected. Cuts in the skin made sense but the equivalent of a bruise didn’t. His body shouldn’t have had any real structure under the skin layer that was the Hazmat. Aside from maybe something like a brain. Bruises required sub-surface vessels. Vessels he shouldn’t have. There was little she could do about the bruise. It was probably as superficial as the cuts had been once she had gotten a closer look. The glass itself was intact aside from the crack he had gotten when he’d… died.

Even as she checked him over one more time she could see the plastic start to knit itself back together on the slightest of cuts. The exposed arm was slower but still healing. Ghosts were far more elastic than humans. It was fortunate it was him who was carried off and not Jazz. He’d be healed up before long.

The clasps on his collar caught her eye, shiny and silver against the burnt black. He still had the clasps. It was a perfect mimic of the hazmat that he had been wearing. Would it move like it? Could the clasps come undone? What would that mean for the helmet? Could it come off? She reached for them and there was an audible click as she flicked it open. Danny’s head tilted wondering what she was doing. What did it mean that it opened? She clicked open each one. It hadn’t fallen right off. She wondered if despite the clasps it would be sealed to the neck. Just a surface imitation or maybe…

Maddie’s hands shook as she settled them either side of the hazmat helmet. If this worked would there be something to see? She almost wanted to see nothing. Nothing rather than the burnt and broken dead face. Blackened and charred down to the bone. There was another part that wanted so much to see his face, his face the way it should have been.

She cringed as Danny’s rough burnt hand touched hers. His hands joined hers and then they were lifting together. There was a light hiss, almost like it had been under a vacuum even though with the burnt away arm that was impossible. At the flash of singed skin of his neck she froze. Her mind realled, at war with herself. A deep breath was taken and she steeled herself. She had to know.

She lifted the helmet the rest of the way. Translucent almost pearl-like white hair fell round his face. A face that was marked with a sharp series of lichtenberg scarring that arched up his neck and across his cheek. It lanced across his eye where the crack in his visor had been. The skin around the scar was burnt but it faded out into smooth skin. Unnaturally so. His freckles were so familiar but even they glowed like little specks of starlight. Bright green eyes blinked at her, squinting in the bright lights of the examination table. His hands lowered from hers to shield them.

That was him, more him than she’d ever thought the ghost would or could look. There wasn’t supposed to be an underneath. The imprint should have been surface level only. Seeing his face hurt. Maddie choked back a sob that caught his attention. The helmet dropped to the floor, Danny caused the lights to crackle and flicker out leaving his glow the only source. He shuffled back, back and off the table into the air. Hands now covering his face in a way that was no longer about the light.

The black of the collar oozed and warped. It twisted up and wrapped around his head once again hiding his face behind the visor. The lights made an almost tentative popping noise as they flickered back on and Danny lowered his hands hesitantly as he hovered closer.

He thought he had upset her, did he think she didn’t want to see. She didn’t but at the same time she did. She hated seeing his face like that, dead but that face, there was something comforting about it too. That despite the expected. Despite the theory. Despite everything that should say otherwize there was enough of him there to create a face when it should have just been the hazmat and nothing else. A face she was worried he might not remember enough to recreate.

She grabbed him and pulled him close into a hug. “Its okay, I’m okay… just a little surprised. All fixed up right? We should head back up.”

Danny nodded and seemed to brighten, the edges of his eyes crinkling. Maddie let him go and led him back up to the kitchen.

“Mads, how’s he?” Jack asked, her blaster and the bazooka on the table in front of him.

Jack unscrewed the bazooka’s casing and removed the barely spent battery. That was a bad sign.

She paused, “just a few scratches. He’s healing fast so none of it was as bad as it looked by the time we got down there.”

She dropped into a seat, “the ghosts?”

Jack shook his head, “gone, fled before I’d gotten the insulation. Guess that means we need to figure out something that actually works.”

She sighed, she had guessed that was the case. Jack being this prepared to change batteries after only one shot meant he expected to need it again. Her own pistol was probably already changed. As he spoke the battery was waved along with his arms.

Danny watched him like a cat. Perched on the back of a chair that he had floated to. Then at the widest wave of Jack going on about how they might contain the ghosts next time he lunged. Snapped at the waving vial, his visor opening up like a mouth. Pointed broken glass like teeth in the black empty void. Said teeth clamped round the battery as Jack froze. Pulling it from his hand before retreating to the floor. Maddie stared, she couldn’t help but think about how that void should have shown his face.

Maddie pulled herself quickly out of her shock. Scratches were one thing but the ecto battery exploding in his face was going to be more damaging if he broke it open wrong. She wrestled the battery away from him to a crackling whine of the electronics in the room.

“Danny! Don’t eat that!” she tried to get him to let go of the battery.

The fridge growled for him, as he chewed on the battery.

“Its not safe Danno,” Jack approached, hands raised placatingly.

Another whine but they were able to pull the battery from his… mouth?

Maddie sighed, “I think we might have some less volatile samples in the lab,” she slipped downstairs to lock up the pistol batteries and returned with a sample flask.

Danny guzzled it down, still without a face.

“So ghosts eat then?” Jack laughed a little watching Danny

Maddie groaned. “You saw that too right? He didn’t have a face…”

Loook at this creature! The art is so cool! As I am writing this I am realizing that I now have three fics with Danny having some sort of broken glass/porcelain imagery. I swear I don't have a problem, I can stop reusing the imagery whenever I want... I just don't want to.

For this fic it was basically a case of I wanted to have ghost hunger but not loose the hazmat aspects for other future parts of the fic and then this idea happened.

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[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 7

(Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

SEVEN: Can't Let Go

SIMON GHOST RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: A week has passed since the argument in the alley, and Reader's hurt has been replaced with a seething anger that leads her to make a spur-of-the-moment decision out of spite. However, her poor choices lead to a potentially dangerous situation.

(PLEASE MIND THE TAGS. This chapter could be triggering for some readers.)

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bad Coping Mechanisms, Allusions to sex, Threat of dub/non-con sexual situation, Brief Violence - Reader's a scrapper, Threat of violence though not acted upon... yet, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Ngl, this was a bitch to write. I had no less than three other alternative versions of this chapter, before choosing this one, but thankfully had some help along the way. Massive props to @glitterypirateduck for the much-needed advice and input. I ended up leaving the badger out, babe, but I hope you like the chapter, regardless. 😉👍)

[Image via TENOR]

Word Count: 5020

Chapter 7

-

...I ain't tryna find fate, it's too late to save face I can't get away, maybe there's no mistakes

You break me, then I break my rules Last time was the last time too It's fucked up, I know, but I'm still

Outside of the party, smokin' in the car with you Seven Nation Army, fightin' at the bar with you Tell you that I'm sorry, tell me what I gotta do 'Cause I can't let go...

—Post Malone, 'Chemical'

-

The walk to work is nice.

Blue skies and tattered clouds arch overhead, the remnants of puddles from an early morning shower reflecting the first sun you've seen in days. The world smells fresh and green and new, the signs of spring brightening your mood. It makes you feel light, the first time in a week you've felt like lifting your head to look around.

The first time since your fight with Riley.

You push the thought away. You're not going there today. Not again. You worked through the worst of the hurt and disappointment, and now you've settled into a comfortable, quiet fury that you keep wrapped around you like a warm blanket when the chill of loneliness creeps into your bed at night. You don't miss him, you don't want him, and you sure as hell don't need him. He's just one more bitter lesson you've had to learn the hard way. You won't make the same mistake, again.

Well... not again, anyway.

A car beeps its horn behind you, and you glance back to see Jerry Finch, the lorry driver who delivers the kegs to the pub, waving at you from a black sports car. You give a half-hearted smile and wave back, your steps slowing when he steers his car to the curb.

His window rolls down, rap music thumping before he turns it down. Leaning on his arm in the open window, Jerry tips his chin down to look over his aviator sunglasses at you, a smooth half-smile on his lips. "How ya doin', Dee? Headin' to work?"

You nod, stepping closer to his car, trying to ignore the way he looks you up and down before meeting your gaze. He gives you an appreciative smile and ticks his eyebrows up, ever the flirt. You sniff in amusement and squint against the sun to see him better. "Morning, Jer." You nod at his car. "No lorry today. This your day off?"

He gives you a charming, almost boyish smile and nods. "Yeah. Had some business here in the village, though." He glances down towards the pub, then slants his gaze back to you, thumbing at his bottom lip. "I can give ya a lift, if ya like. Goin' that way, anyhow."

You hesitate but then nod in acceptance. It's just an acquaintance from work offering you a ride, nothing wrong with that. He smiles and motions for you to get in, once more letting his eyes wander over your figure while you settle yourself into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt.

"Thank you," you murmur, glancing up at him, then away. Jerry's never been one to hide his interest, taking every opportunity to flirt with you when given half a chance. Of course, it makes you feel good to have a handsome man flirt with you, but it also makes you a little leery, too. You try to be nice, but you don't want to encourage him, something that Fiona fusses about every chance she gets.

"Bloody hell, Dee, give the bloke a chance. He's got a good job, he's good lookin', fit as fuck, an' he's gaggin' t'get with ya. What can it hurt?"

Rationally, you know Fi is right, but you can't help yourself. There's just something about him. You can't put your finger on it but being near him just feels... off. You clear your throat and look out the window, your eyes catching on a dark gray Gladiator parked in front of the Tea Room.

Riley.

You can see him standing inside through the tall Georgian windows, chatting with Margie, the owner. She's handing him a bag and a to-go cup that you know will be filled with English breakfast tea brewed strong, with a splash of milk and two sugars, the way he likes. Your heart squeezes in your chest as you watch him exit the building and get in his truck.

Riley's been avoiding the pub when you're on shift. Fiona says he's been showing up in the evening, sitting in his usual spot while nursing his Dewar's. She also doesn't fail to mention Tessa Harker has been chatting him up quite a bit lately, too. It hurts to hear it, but you only give a tight smile and mutter, "Good for him," much to your friend's irritation.

Fiona and Ollie have both noticed the way you and Riley have been avoiding each other, but apparently Riley has kept mum about the argument, as have you. You had wondered if he would spread word about your other job at the Grind out of spite, but no one has mentioned it so far, and for that you're relieved, but you're still wary of what he might do with the information.

"So, what time ya gettin' off work?"

The question draws your attention back to the big man sitting beside you. Did he notice you staring, you wonder. "Um, I get off work at five."

"Then what?" he persists, and you know where this is going.

You shrug, keeping your eyes focused straight ahead. "Then back home, I suppose."

"Come out with me, instead," he suggests, shooting another one of his charming smiles your way. "There's a nice Italian bistro in Blackheath. I deliver to 'em. Nice place, good food."

"Oh, um, well..."

He chuckles and reaches over to pat your knee. "No rush, sweetheart. Got all day t'think it over, yeah?"

Again, the feeling that something is off with him comes to the fore of your brain, but you smile, regardless. "Yeah, sure. I'll... think about it," you reply, knowing your mind is already made up. You just have to think of a nice way to let him down. Again.

Jerry gives your knee another pat, which turns into a sly caress that has you flinching away. He huffs a laugh at your reaction, giving you a playful 'just-kidding' grin, before he lifts his hand and places it back on the wheel. He has big, beefy hands, thick fingers with blunt tips, a working man's hands. You usually find that attractive, have often admired Riley's large hands and long, supple fingers, but for some reason, the sight of Jerry's ham fists curled around the steering wheel makes you feel uncomfortable.

The car comes to a stop in front of the pub, and you're quick to unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. "Thanks for the ride, Jer," you say, one foot already resting on the pavement.

"Think nothin' of it, love. Glad t'give you a ride anytime," he murmurs, suggestion heavy in his tone. He flashes another smile at you, winking again. He does that a lot, and you find it annoying. "I'll stop by later, see if ya want to go out for dinner, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah, sure. Okay."

You get out of his car and sketch a little wave as he pulls away, then turn to head inside the pub, only to come up short. Riley's standing right in front of the entrance, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes fixed on Jerry's car, which is now rounding the green.

"Friend o' yers?"

It's the first words he's said to you since last Sunday in the alley, and the way he says it instantly gets your hackles up. You square off with him, casting a disparaging look over him. The proper thing would have been to offer you an apology, but you know better than to expect anything like that from him. Instead, he leads with a question that sounds both accusatory and insulting, all at the same time.

Typical.

"Shouldn't you already know? That's what you're good at, isn't it? Keeping tabs on me?" you snap, glaring at him.

You make a point to bump his shoulder as you pass by him and enter the pub. He's on your heels in an instant, following you through the door, obviously irritated by your response. You ignore him as you round the bar, pulling the strap of your bag over your head before placing it on top of the bar to take out your phone and a paperback.

"Wot? Ya got nothin' else t'say, doll? Tha's not like ya."

Your eyes snap up to glare at him. "Thought we said all that needed to be said last Sunday," you hissed at him, trying to keep your voice down, knowing Ollie would be back in his office.

Simon plants both hands on the bar and leans in, his dark eyes scathing as they pin you to the spot. "I wasn't finished talkin'. It was you that fuckin' ran off," he growls in return, but manages to keep his voice to a low rumble.

Your brows shoot up in mock surprise. "Oh! How terribly rude of me. I suppose I should have stood there until you were finished insulting me." Your eyes narrowed as you sneered at him. "Fuck you for that, by the way."

He's wearing his black surgical mask today, so his angry scowl is more evident than usual. He shoves off the bar in a fit of temper, hand coming up to jab a finger at you. "Like I told ya last Sunday, me an' you need t'talk, an' this time yer goin' t'bloody listen to wha—"

Your snort cuts him off. "We have nothing left to discuss. You made your opinion of me quite clear. But hey! At least I know where I stand with you now. Don't worry, though. I'll keep my distance. Wouldn't want to embarrass you by being seen associating with a slag, right?"

"Dammit t'hell, Dee! I never fuckin' called ya that. I never thought that. Would ya just bloody lis—"

"Riley, lad!"

You both turn to see Ollie heading your way, a pleased smile on his face. Shooting Riley one last venomous glare, you turn your back on him and make for the swinging door leading into the kitchen, his frustrated growl giving you a sense of grim satisfaction as you slip through the door. Fuck him. You hope he stays pissed off for the rest of the day.

You can hear the two men talking as you go back to hang up your jacket, eyes wandering over the unused kitchen as you pass through. What you wouldn't give for a kitchen this size, and here this one sits, unused and abandoned. You had mentioned a time or two that adding a small menu would bring in more business, but since the last cook quit, Ollie hasn't been too keen to fire up the kitchen again. It's a pity, really.

"Dee, love."

You glance over your shoulder to see Ollie standing at the service window. "What'cha need, Ol?"

Mind makin' me an' Riley a cuppa an' bringin' 'em to the office?"

You frown, wondering what happened to the tea you had seen Riley with before. You shrug it off and nod. "Sure thing, Ol. Be right out with 'em."

"Thanks, love," he says, rapping his knuckles before disappearing from sight.

You rinse out the electric kettle and fill it with water, then plug it in and switch it on before grabbing three mugs and the tea tin. You consider making Riley's tea wrong, just for spite, but that would be petty, even for you, or as Riley would call it, bratty. You sniff. He's a fuckin' brat. A bratty arsehole.

You scoop instant coffee into your own mug then add the tea bags to the other two cups, before going to the fridge to take out the milk. It's become routine for you to make both men's tea, your hands going through the motions while your thoughts wander back to Jerry and his dinner invitation.

Your first instinct is to turn him down, as you have all his other invitations, but the memory of how pissed Riley looked as he watched the other man drive away gives you pause. He always did eye Jerry with open suspicion, his instant dislike of the other man never something he tried to hide. He's never said why he doesn't like Jerry, but it didn't change the fact that it would probably piss Riley off to learn you were going out to dinner with him.

Maybe you are petty after all, because now your mind has changed. You are going on a dinner date this evening after work.

Setting your mug of coffee in the window to retrieve later, you take the other two mugs with you out of the kitchen. Rounding the bar, you head towards the narrow hallway that leads to the bathrooms and Ollie's office, walking slower to not spill any of their tea. You can hear their voices through the door as you stop to announce your presence. It's Riley who opens the door for you, not bothering to move out of your way as you slide past him with an irritated expression.

"Move, ya big lump," you grumble lowly, which gets a soft sniff of amusement from him. Arsehole.

"Ah, thanks, love," Ollie says, reaching out to take his mug. You set Riley's on the edge of his desk near the old club chair where he always sits. "Mind closin' the door on yer way out?" Ollie asks.

You give a nod, turning around to see that Riley is still standing in your way. You go to step around him, and he steps in your way again. You blow out an aggravated breath and raise your eyes to his, the urge to shove him again making your hands twitch. When he quirks a brow up at you, you grit your teeth and glare at him. Then an idea sparks in your brain. You look back over your shoulder at your boss.

"Say, Ol. Ya mind if I cut out a little early this evening? I've got a dinner date with Jerry the lorry driver."

Ollie nearly chokes on his tea before he manages to get his cup set down on his desk. His sharp eyes dart between you and Riley, an odd expression on his face as he tries to make sense of what's going on. He finally clears his throat and gives a curt nod. "Yeah. Sure, love. No problem."

You give him a sweet smile that turns spiteful when you turn your head back to the man in front of you. "Thanks, Ol," you reply, meeting Riley's furious glare. "Excuse me. Need to get back to work."

You can see his hands balling into fists, and it sends a thrill of sadistic glee through you. You'd rather die than look away from him right now, a smirk appearing when he has to hold his tongue and step aside for you. By the time you reach the hallway and close the door behind you, you're damn near giddy. The smirk on your face grows to a full-on wicked grin by the time you reach the bar again.

Satisfied with the good, hard poke you've just given the proverbial bear, you begin your prep work, humming a catchy pop song under your breath.

-

You manage to avoid any more close interactions with Riley, though he hangs around the bar your entire shift, giving you a baleful glare every time you draw near. You make it a point to ignore him, chatting with the other customers, talking and laughing like you weren't bothered at all by his brooding presence. You see him visibly stiffen when Jerry comes swaggering in, his signature charming smile already in place.

Before he can speak, you step to the bar and offer him a sweet smile. "Hi, Jer. Ollie said I can leave early, so we can go whenever you like."

Jerry can't hide the surprise on his face, but he swiftly recovers as he leans an elbow on the bar to bring his eyes level with yours. "Good. Been thinkin' 'bout it all day," he murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

You stiffen, discomfited by the look in his eye, but try to hide it by ducking to grab your bag from beneath the bar. When you raise up again, a pleasant smile is plastered on your face. "I just need to grab my jacket and tell Ollie I'm leaving, then we can go."

"'Course, sweetheart," Jer replies, watching you as you round the bar and head for the hallway. He catches Riley staring at him and lifts his brows, giving him a smug little smirk, which you honestly think is stupid of him. Despite Jerry's size, you have no doubt Riley would mop the fucking floor with him. You roll your eyes. Men and their stupid bloody posturing.

The sooner you get this over with, the better. This game is quickly losing its appeal.

-

Jerry offers to take you home to change if you want, but you decline, honestly not comfortable with the idea of bringing him up to your flat. He seems a little perturbed when you turn down his offer but then shrugs and drives to Blackheath, instead.

As he said, the little bistro is nice, the food delicious. The conversation is lackluster, though, but you weren't really expecting much. Beyond talking about himself, Jerry doesn't seem to hold much interest in other topics. Big surprise.

Once you're back in the car, he drapes his arm over your seat and leans in, a sexy smirk on his face. "So, where to next, sweetheart? Your place or mine?"

Your brows shoot up in mild surprise. "I thought this was just dinner," you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. "Moving a little fast, don't you think?"

He tips his chin down, giving you a knowing look. "C'mon, Dee. We're both adults here. I've seen how you an' that other barmaid check me out. Not that I'm complainin'." He gives you one of his smarmy winks, and you fight the urge to wrinkle your nose in disdain.

You sniff and give your head a small shake. The audacity of this bloke. Did he honestly think you were just going to drop your knickers because he bought you dinner? "Yeah, I think I'd rather go home by myself. I have work in the morning."

Jerry draws back, blinking. "Are you serious?" When you roll your eyes, he scoffs and tilts his nose up, as if he can't believe you are turning him down. "Whatever. Your loss, sweetheart," he mutters with a slight sneer and starts the car.

The drive back to Banfield is tense and awkward, but you honestly prefer the silence. When Jer finally speaks up, you startle out of your thoughts. "Mind if I take a shortcut?" he asks, his tone off-hand.

You shrug. "Fine with me." If it gets you home quicker, you're all for it.

Yet when he veers off the main road onto a country lane, you frown. You aren't familiar with this particular backroad, but from the direction you're going it doesn't look like you're heading towards home.

"Are you sure this goes to Banfield?"

Jer slants a condescending look at you, a shitty little smirk pulling up a corner of his mouth. "I drive for a livin', sweetheart. Ya really think I'm goin' t'get lost on the way to bloody Banfield?"

Your eyes roll up, but you hold your tongue, yet after another five minutes with nothing even closely resembling civilization in sight, you can't keep quiet. "We should be in Banfield by now. It's just a ten-minute drive from Blackheath. Are you sure you took the right road?" You glance around at the dark, unfamiliar landscape. "I don't even know where the hell we are right now."

"I took the scenic route," Jer drawls, waving a hand. He then drops it on your knee and gives it a squeeze. "Chill out, sweetheart. We'll get there. Eventually."

Apprehension creeps up your spine like the drag of an icy finger. You don't like this. This man, who you really know nothing about, you now realize, is driving you out to the middle of nowhere. "Maybe you should turn around."

Jerry glances over at you again, and this time the look in his eye makes the small hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Maybe you should try to relax." His hand slides up your leg to grip your thigh. "I'd be happy t'pull over an' help ya with that, sweetheart."

And there it is. The reason for getting you out here alone. You aren't even really surprised, always knowing in the back of your mind that there was something off with him, though you chose to ignore it this time, just to spite Riley.

Hindsight really is a bitch sometimes.

"Jer, I told you I wanted to go home," you murmur, trying to keep your voice low and even.

He huffs, a smug expression on his face. "C'mon, Dee. Stop playin' hard t'get. It's jus' me an' you now. Your boyfriend doesn't have t'know. I can keep my mouth shut. It'll be our little secret, yeah?"

"My boyfriend?" you blurt out, confused.

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, right. Sorry. Your friend," he sneers and then scoffs. "Don't act like ya don't know who I'm talkin' 'bout. That scarred up freak with the mask who's always up yer arse."

"What the fuck did you just say?" you choke out, fury strangling your voice. You're ready to claw out his eyes for what he said about Riley.

Jerry waves a dismissive hand at you. "Enough with the games, Dee. I know ya only went out with me t'make him jealous, an' I'm fine with that, really, but don't ya think I deserve some sort of... ya know, compensation for playin' along?"

Rage consumes you, hot and prickling beneath your skin. "Take me home. Now!"

The cold, flat look in his eye chills you to the bone. "Not 'til I get what ya owe me, sweetheart. Don't look so offended. I doubt this is the first time you've paid up for somethin' by lyin' on your back."

The hard slap you deliver to his smug face has him swerving across the narrow road before he slams on the brakes, sluing the car around in the loose gravel. You only manage to free your seatbelt before he grabs you.

"Are ya fuckin' crazy, ya bitch?" he yells in your face, shaking you hard as he shoves you back against your door. "Ya could'a killed us!"

You jab your thumb in his eye for his trouble. He bellows in pain, releasing you to clutch at his face, freeing you to reach behind your back to paw at the latch. The door flies open under your weight and dumps you out backwards onto the gravel. When his hand seizes your ankle in a crushing grip, you frantically kick out with your other foot. Though you're unable to see from your position on the ground, you revel in a brief moment of satisfaction when you feel it make solid contact with his head, and he yells in pain again. Yanking your legs free of the car, you scramble to your feet, snatching your bag from the ground as you sprint for the woods.

Too terrified to look back, you run headlong into the tree line. You stumble through the undergrowth, feeling the spindly branches and thorns tear at your clothes and snag in your hair as it rakes bloody scratches into your exposed skin. You trip over tree roots and stub your toes on stones hidden beneath the moldering ground cover of dead leaves. All the while, Jerry is bellowing like an enraged bull as he thrashes through the foliage somewhere behind you, shouting threats and curses at you the whole time.

When you inevitably fall flat on your face, you skid across the forest floor to hitch up at the base of a huge oak. You have just enough time to crawl behind its massive trunk before Jerry comes crashing through. When you hear him approach, you clap your hand over your nose and mouth to muffle the sound of your gasping breaths, terrified he will hear you. Your eyes go wide when you see him pass by your hiding spot close enough that you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted. Scared beyond reason, you press your back against the rough bark of the oak and pray he doesn't see you when he pans the flashlight on his cell phone around.

A strangled noise issues from his throat before he growls out a frustrated, "Fuuuck!" You can see him pacing back and forth as he rakes his hands through his hair. If you didn't know any better, you would think he was panicking. "Crazy fuckin' bitch," you hear him seethe under his heaving breath, growling again. "Fine, ya stupid cunt!" he shouts at the dark woods, throwing his arms up in the air. "Find yer own way home, then!" He then turns around and stomps back the way he came, still uttering curses.

You don't dare move, not even when the sound of his heavy footfalls fades away. You don't dare move, not even when the only thing you can hear is the wind rattling the tree branches overhead. You don't dare move, not until you at last hear the distant sound of a car motor rev to life, the sound gradually diminishing until you can't hear it any longer. It is only then that you are brave enough to slowly stand up on your shaking legs, only to lean once more on the trunk for support as a sob finally tears free from your chest.

You remain that way for several minutes, trying desperately to regain your composure, even as your brain keeps circling around the notion that Jerry's departure is some sort of ruse to lure you back out into the open. It's the idea of spending a cold night alone in the woods that finally has you lifting your head to take in your surroundings and evaluate your situation.

At first glance, it seems pretty dire. You have no idea where you are, you're too scared to venture back onto road for fear of Jerry lying in wait somewhere, and it's pitch dark out tonight, not even the wan light of the moon visible in the overcast sky to help guide you through the woods.

Your only real option is to call for help.

Reaching into your bag, you take out your phone, cursing under your breath when you drop it due to your trembling hands. The glow of the screen is a small comfort as you unlock your phone and open your contacts list. You stare at the emergency number, finger hovering.

If you call the police, there will have to be a report filed, and then there will be an inquiry to investigate your claims. You already know it will be your word against Jerry's. His solicitors will no doubt drag your name through the mud to discredit you, and he will probably still get off with nothing more than a light slap on the wrist, if he even gets that, because he actually didn't do anything to you, at least not physically. Hell, you had done more damage to him than he had to you. He could claim you attacked him, and he wouldn't even be lying.

You look back down at your phone, one name standing out like a beacon in the dark. When you see that name, you think of home, of safety, the two things you want most right now. You select it and hit the call button, holding the phone up to your ear and praying there will be an answer. Your breath catches in your throat when you hear the line connect.

"Whad'ya want, Dee?" a gravelly, annoyed voice growls into your ear, and a sob escapes your throat, you are so relieved to hear him.

"Ruh... Riley? P-Please, Ri... please. I n-need you..."

-

No one in the White Dog knew what to think when the usually quiet giant that sat at the end of the bar suddenly erupted out of his seat, the bar chair toppling over. "Doll! What's wrong? Where are ya?" he barks into his phone.

He apparently doesn't like what he hears.

"He fuckin' did what?! " he growls, a look of pure murderous rage igniting in his dark eyes. As he listens to you, however, his rage is tempered by his troubled concern. "Are ya hurt, love? I swear t'God if he―" His hand clenches into a trembling fist, even though his voice is now a low rumble. "Please don't cry, love. I know, I know, but I'll find ya. Ya know I will. I'm on my way right now. Just... keep yer phone on for me, yeah?"

He's already making for the entrance as he says this, the murderous look returning as he mutters, "I'll kill that bastard," before he barges through the door. He hits it with such force, it slams into the outside wall hard enough to shatter the frosted safety glass. He doesn't even acknowledge it as he runs to his truck and tears off down the street with a bark of tires the next instant, leaving a silent pub full of stunned onlookers in his wake.

-

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[chillichats]

so im writing this fairy tail fic, it's basically an au with some headcanons (and one pretty major difference to canon) and i guess i just want to get my ideas and thoughts out there, and this way i can read back what i thought.

right now my thoughts are about how to flesh out lucy's magic. bless her canon magic but im not just leaving it at that. im planning on giving her more silver keys, and possibly giving her some buffing abilities, though she won't ever be a truly offensive mage. She'll have some finisher spells like urano metria (and more that i'll add later) but they'll be super costly in magic - basically a last resort. for the most part she'll still be a summoner.

i did say buffs because when i was looking up astronomy stuff i found a bunch of Nebula that had really cool names, and almost without thinking i assigned them powers. and then i went ' wait a second, that's actually not too bad an idea!'

so for now i have six possible buffs she'll eventually be able to learn, each with their own (real) nebula:

Orion's Nebula - fairly easy. a strength buff

Crab Nebula - a defense buff, more specifically she can either focus protection on her limbs or her torso, or she can protect both but the defense is less powerful overall

Eagle Nebula - it doesn't give her the ability to fly, but it lowers gravity for her significantly. With it she can jump very high, and move with less friction, but maneuvering relies a lot more on pushing off other surfaces

Cat's Eye Nebula - Better vision/night vision and better senses buff.

Tarantula Nebula - what it sounds like, she'd be able to climb up walls. can't decide if it would be akin to spiderman climbing up or if she could just straight up walk on walls. im thinking spiderman tho.

the buffs would be fairly costly to cast, but less than a silver gate to maintain.

as for the silver keys......

GOSH, the silver keys were WASTED in fairy tail!!! HM focused so hard on the golden gate keys (and not even all of those) that he completely forgot about the entire rest of the constellations.

of course, I can't give Lucy TOO many keys, because then it would just become a hassle to figure out which key to use for what situation, but there's definitely some I want her to have by the end of fairy tail.

for instance, i've just finished my version of the everlue arc (yes its still very early in the rewrite), and ive gotten her musca's key. that's the Fly constellation, if anyone was wondering. In my head it would have kind of... spy powers? like, you know, 'fly on the wall' kinda thing. but i can't decide if it would be an actual fly or a piece of equipment.

if it's a fly, then it would probably listen to conversations and then come report back to lucy, but if it was tech, lucy would probably plant it herself and then have a headset.

actually you know what, what if it was like, a robot fly? and she still had a headset, but couldn't actually hear what was going on around the fly? instead, the fly tells her what's going on around it, and she can direct its attention to specific things for more details. if she asks it to it can repeat conversations verbatim, but it has, well, a robotic voice, so it can be hard to distinguish between who says what.

and to clarify, the fly doesnt say things out loud, but broadcasts words back to lucy's headset. it would be a very poor spy if it was constantly talking out loud, haha

anyways, typing all this out has quelled my thoughts on this, so im gonna go continue to write the next chapter of the au

[epitomereally]

Celestial Navigation by @sabrecmc

18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.

An absolutely gorgeous story of learning to love yourself, even when you feel like you don't fit in & that you grew up wrong. I'm so happy to have gotten to bind this mammoth work for Sabre & as a gift exchange for @mourningmountainsbindery (who bound me this beautiful copy of Astolat's Let the River Run—JUST LOOK AT THAT COVER!).

Also to anyone who has @ed me lately (looking at u, em @powerful-owl & tacky @tackytigerfic particularly) & I've been derelict in responding, here is WHY.

This has been the longest binding project I've undertaken, both in page count and in time. My original message to Sabre was on March 16th—can't decide if I want to use the laughing or crying emoji here—and the colophon says I made the book in April 2023 (which was when I started typesetting, maybe). I had been randomly perusing dying videos on Youtube in bed on a Saturday morning, as one does, and came across a video showing how to spiral tie-dye. I IMMEDIATELY had a design premonition of the full design for this fic as a two-volume set, planted into my brain wholesale by the binding gods. I learned many new techniques throughout the process (edge painting, edge trimming/sanding, tie-dying/dyepainting, embroidery, typesetting meta from tumblr which copy-pastes with the worst goddamn formatting in the world, kill me now). Overall, alternately extremely painful & wonderful, and I'm extremely proud of this set.

Design-wise, I went whole-hog with the scifi stars theme. Endpapers are recolored versions of the star charts from the Apollo 11 mission:

Title page & chapter titles are both rips in the galaxy:

Epigraphs both star-themed:

Some more glamor shots because I'm so proud 💕

8.6 lbs // 3.8 kgs worth of books (~3000 total pages) 🥰

Celestial Navigation is also INCREDIBLY popular, and Sabre has been incredibly generous answering asks on her tumblr + writing additional one-shots in the universe. There is also a veritable volume of fanart. I was so inspired by seeing @robins-egg-bindery copy of ********, with its appendix of fanart & meta, that I promptly copied them.

fanart redacted because lots of the artists are no longer active on tumblr but just know i am ECSTATIC about the amount of art in these books

Lastly, I love how @clovenhoofbindery includes their 'Illustrator mess' with their bind posts, as a behind-the-scenes look into the wild process of designing these books. I don't actually have an Illustrator mess for this book (the chapter titles & title page pretty much came in one take), but I do have a DYING MESS. It took me sososo many tries to figure out how to get the dye to look how I imagined in my head. I ended up 'dye painting' instead of tie-dying in the end, but my inbox is always open to chat hand-dying/tie-dying/dyepainting (or what I did differently between any of these attempts). Numbers are the dying attempt.

Last process shot: I hand-dyed variegated linen thread to match the colors of the bind, which ends up being incredibly difficult to see on the finished bind, but was super fun while I was sewing!

Materials:

Body font: Kepler

Title font: Compaq 1982

Chapter number font: aliens & cows

Endpapers: recolored versions of the star chart used by Michael Collins during the Apollo 11 mission (archived at The Smithsonian)

Bookcloth: dyed using Dharma Trading Procion Fiber-Reactive Dyes

Title page and chapter headers: designed in Photoshop using the Ultimate Space brush pack by jeffrettalyn on DeviantArt

Metallic embroidery thread: Cosmo Nishikiito thread

I would dye for this embroidery thread. It is LIGHT YEARS better than the classic metallic embroidery thread from DMC: much easier to work with & much more sparkly. Literally so eye-catching; it truly doesn't translate to photos.

Paint for edges: Daniel Smith watercolor tubes in Iridescent Sunstone and Prussian Blue

Note: these are GORGEOUS watercolors. The color is so saturated and strong and beautiful BUT I don't think I'd recommend watercolors for edge painting. They went on very differently depending on the grit of the sandpaper I used for the edges + they sometimes bled into the pages + they had to be set with fixative, which then stuck the pages together.