#hello hey i'm alive

[thymednewrowan]

No one mourns the wicked

[kirby-the-gorb]

[drownedinapond]

[pnnzzlr]

[boundaryfailure]

[the better reality | nms apollo & traveller]

At the center of the galaxy, you are left holding the cinderblock-heavy truth of the world you live in. The enormity of it all sits almost demurely in its place on your exosuit, that little red starseed and its cosmic significance.

Sixteen minutes. Always, sixteen.

Of course, Nada only hushes you when you try to speak about what you’ve seen. They stretch their palm outwards as you rush to inform them, sweeping away your words before they come. They are afraid — you know they’re afraid — to lose their haven to realization. Of course, despite everything, even though they have severed themselves from their people, they are still Korvax: they still fear the Atlas they reject so fiercely. You can’t bring yourself to shatter anxious Nada’s naivety.

You still find it in yourself to feel stung.

Still, though, they can see the anguish in the lines of your posture (Why won’t you listen? Why won’t you hear me? How could you leave me alone with this?), and they have never lost their kindness. Nada’s fingertips light gently on your shoulders, and when they draw you into an embrace, you return it twice as fiercely.

Polo squeezes your hand as you pass them.

“Nada fears, Traveller-Friend. Some things are best left unexplored.”

(TRAVELLER, the Atlas had said — had pleaded.)

You miss Apollo so terribly.

Sometimes you dream of a better reality: one where the world had yawned wide as you came out of the portal, and your friend was there to greet you.

Getting the details right can be tricky. You know what Apollo sounds like, sharp, sometimes guttural, mechanical and harsh at first blush. You know that standing beside them would suffuse you in subtle golden light, that it would play off the starsilk strands and fine leather of your suit. The details get sketchier and ruin the picture if you dwell too much, and so you try not to linger too much on any one point. Broad strokes.

They are bigger than you are, you remember from the tower transmissions; they are built sturdily, like industrial equipment, like a blunt force weapon. They get testy when you poke fun at it — “I don’t make fun of you for being soft, do I?” — and you know that this body is not necessarily theirs by choice. There had been grudges involved, and vengeance quests, and altogether you can understand why they choose to walk as a lone iteration entirely, free of the wistful togetherness of the Space Anomaly’s menagerie. Such tenderness doesn't suit them.

But Apollo could bludgeon you into an entirely new iteration, and Apollo chooses not to. That is how things go, in the reality where you break through to one another. The two of you cut a wonderful contrast walking worlds together. The gear you have chosen means that beside their simplicity, you are all tritium-hydraulic agility and solar-vitrified stealth, and they snipe at you over comms because they are made for steady distance and could never keep up with your gimmicks.

“Somehow Artemis was never half as much trouble as you are,” they tell you, with their strange blend of indifference and annoyance over-top a curious attachment.

“With Artemis, we really would have been unstoppable.” The thought slips out unbidden, and you pick at the enameling adorning your right pauldron as if to distract, or to mollify.

“… Yes,” Apollo says, a reply you don’t expect. Their tone is thoughtful, but not closed off, and you realize you’ve earned the rare right to their emotional input, such as it is. “We would have.”

In this reality, the pressing loneliness of all the world before you abates with your friend at your shoulder. Apollo is not necessarily talkative — in fact, without you there to prompt them, you think they might go days without a single flare of vocal activity — but their heavy tread at your heels and their ruthless haggling at trade stations compress the frightening vastness of it all into something uniquely enticing.

(The weight of the last sixteen minutes rests lighter on your shoulders, knowing that they, too, understand. They take the news of the galaxy’s infinite end steadily, a steel-stubborn levee refusing to succumb to the waves of despair that had submerged you before.)

(“Well, we all have to die sometime,” they had told you, rolling prism-studded shoulders. “And what time will be more interesting than this?”)

(They hear you, they listen, and they are not afraid.)

(In this other reality, they choose to do what no one else does: to accompany you. To understand.)

(And you know fully by now that those other iterations are just as real as you.)

(So just knowing that, you think, alone in your ship with your face to the stars — just knowing soothes the sting.)

Sometimes you dream of a better reality.

In it, all the world lies before you, and Apollo is at your back, and beneath the tint of your helmet, your eyes are wide and wonderstruck.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

i do not want to wash this blood away; i have grown attached to it.

[undead-potatoes]

Someone give me the strength to empty out my drafts into my queue

[pmatga]

recently remembered this post i made like three years ago (jesus. time progression) and i can't believe it's never occurred to me until now how spheria might feel abt it

[manifestosimaginarios]

yes! scrolling trhough my instagram feed is mostly ads and people I don't know, I rarely see the accounts I actually follow, it gets all crowded and then I get overwhelmed. God, I hate it there.

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[bemysinphony]

🥸

[brunchable]

Are you Jealous? || B.B. [Oneshhot]

Pairings: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Jealousy made Bucky immature. Bickering. Another attempt at being funny. Summary: The guy you were talking to ruined Bucky's morning so he decided to do something about it. A/N: This is a comeback ONESHOT. HELLO, I am alive, how are ya'll? I've intended to come back earlier but health related stuff just kept on slapping me left and right. But I'm fine, this baby in my tummy is fine, everyone is fine! Expect a few sporadic posts from me as I am working on where I've left off ;__;

The morning had started so well.

Bucky took a deep, satisfied breath as he cradled his coffee mug, his soul momentarily at peace on the upper balcony. He had earned a kiss. A cheek kiss, sure, but a kiss was a kiss. And it wasn’t just any kiss—it was your kiss. A reward for heroically delivering your USB to the hospital before your presentation. He’d strutted out of there like a goddamn champion, feeling like he was glowing from the inside out.

And now? Now, he was sipping his coffee, reliving the moment in high definition, when the universe decided to slap him across the face.

Because there you were.

Sitting at the picnic table in the backyard.

With some guy.

Bucky's brows furrowed. He tilted his head. The guy was laughing. You were laughing. You were both laughing.

He squinted harder, trying to decipher what was so damn funny, when he caught the tail end of the conversation.

“So you’re telling me… you kicked him down?” the guy asked, sounding both impressed and too interested for Bucky’s taste.

“That’s right,” You confirmed with a smug grin.

The guy threw his head back, laughing like you had just told the funniest joke in existence. 

“That’s really impressive,” the guy said, his eyes glinting with admiration.

Bucky scowled. 

Then, like a demon summoned from the depths of hell at the worst possible moment, Sam appeared beside him, holding his own coffee and grinning like he had just won the lottery.

“They look close,” Sam mused, eyes twinkling with mischief, making sure to emphasize the word 'close'.

Bucky whipped his head toward him, glaring. “Hm. I don’t think so.”

Sam didn’t even hesitate. “Are you jealous?”

Bucky scoffed so hard he almost choked on his coffee. 

“Tsk. Why would I be jealous?” He pulled a face. “Honestly, if she had a brain, she wouldn’t even like dudes like him.”

"Just ask her out already." Sam sipped his coffee with exaggerated slowness, watching as Bucky’s eyes flicked back to you and your colleague. Sam’s grin widened to criminal levels.

Bucky sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “Why do I have to see your face this early?”

Sam didn't respond—he just grinned. Then pointed at Bucky. Then grinned some more.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Bucky demanded, suspicious.

Sam took another sip. “No reason. Just enjoying my morning.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before looking down again. That’s when he noticed something.

The garden hose.

Right there. Within reach. Just waiting to be used.

He grabbed it, tilting his head like a scientist about to conduct a very important experiment.

Sam’s eyes widened.

Bucky turned the nozzle.

“Bucky, don’t—”

Bucky aimed.

“Bucky—”

He fired.

A powerful blast of water shot out like he was operating a high-pressure fire hose, hitting your colleague directly in the chest.

“WHAT THE—?! HEY! THAT’S COLD!” the man screeched, jerking back like he’d been shot, arms flailing wildly.

Bucky adjusted the nozzle slightly—just slightly—to ensure maximum discomfort, the spray now hitting the poor guy directly in the face.

“DUDE, WHAT THE HELL?!” The man spun in place like a malfunctioning windmill, water soaking through his shirt at an alarming rate.

From below, you gasped, hands on your head. “Oh my gosh!”

“DUDE! ARE YOU BEING SERIOUS?!” 

Bucky took another slow, calculated sip of his coffee. “I dunno, man,” he called out, voice as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “Looks like it’s raining.”

Sam made a choking sound.

Your colleague staggered back, sputtering. “WHY IS IT ONLY RAINING ON ME?!”

Bucky tilted his head. “Must be one of them localized storms.”

“Bucky, stop it!” You shrieked, but Bucky pretended not to hear you, subtly tilting the hose again so the water jet honed in on the guy’s knees, making him slip slightly.

The guy tried to run.

Bucky tracked him like a sniper, adjusting his aim so the water followed in real time, soaking him from head to toe as he attempted a desperate escape.

“OH, COME ON!” The man shrieked, arms flailing, looking up at the balcony, “YOU’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE!”

Bucky let out a slow, amused exhale. 

“Naaah.” Slight adjustment. Direct hit to the guy’s back.

You were fuming. “Are you ACTUALLY out of your mind?!”

Bucky set his coffee cup down with a deliberate sigh. 

“Ohhh, that was your colleague?” He put a hand on his chest, shaking his head like he was deeply moved. “Damn. That’s crazy.”

Sam collapsed against the railing, crying-laughing.

You turned back to the guy, who was now dripping, shivering, and looking thoroughly traumatized, “I am so sorry, I will grab a towel.”

Bucky twirled the hose nozzle between his fingers like a cowboy reholstering a gun. “Might be best if he, y’know, went home to change.”

The guy glared at him, teeth chattering. “Not cool dude.”

Bucky tilted his head. “That’s fair.”

You looked one second away from climbing the balcony to strangle him. “Are you kidding me?”

Bucky took another sip of his coffee. “Plants looking dehydrated, he was in the way.”

The guy finally gave up and trudged off, squelching with every step.

You threw up your hands. “Are you happy now?!”

“Honestly? Yeah.” Bucky leaned lazily against the balcony. 

Sam wheezed, gripping the railing for support. “That was so petty.”

Bucky smirked, absolutely unrepentant.

× × × × 

It wasn’t planned, okay?

You just happened to be standing by the hose, and Bucky just happened to be fixing something in the backyard, wearing a tight-fitting henley that had no business clinging to his stupidly broad back like that. 

And sure, maybe you were a little pissed that your colleague—the one he soaked this morning—had turned out to be your senior doctor. The same senior doctor whose recommendation you desperately needed to become chief resident and finally get your first lead in a surgery.

But this? This was justice.

So you lifted the hose.

And fired.

Bucky jerked, his entire body seizing up as ice-cold water slammed into the middle of his back.

“The hell?!” he barked, spinning around, dripping wet, glaring.

You kept your grip firm, adjusting your stance like a sniper zeroing in on a target.

“Oh, what’s wrong? Afraid of a little cold?” you drawled, watching as rivulets of water slid down his chest, clinging to the fabric of his now very translucent shirt. His dog tags clinked as he moved, the metal gleaming wetly against his skin.

Bucky pushed his soaked hair back, his nostrils flaring. “You’ve got five seconds to put that hose down before I—”

PFFFFFT.

Direct hit to his chest.

“YOU’RE INSANE!” Bucky stumbled back, arms raised like he was taking fire in an action movie. 

“Oh, I’m insane?” you shouted over the sound of the water, increasing the pressure as he tried (and failed) to dodge. “DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU DID TODAY, YOU ABSOLUTE WALNUT?”

Bucky, still getting pummeled by the water, threw his arms out. “I WAS JUST WATERING THE GARDEN—”

“WATERING THE GARDEN?! YOU WATERBOARDED MY BOSS! MY BOSS!”

Bucky froze mid-step. Blinked. “Wait. That guy?”

You turned the nozzle to jet-stream.

Bucky roared, arms flying up to shield himself as you unleashed hell. “Y/N, FOR F—C’MON!”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD I’VE BEEN WORKING TO GET THAT RECOMMENDATION?!” you yelled, stepping closer. The force of the stream pushed him back against the fence. “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH ASS KISSING I’VE HAD TO DO?! HE WAS GOING TO GIVE ME MY FIRST LEAD—AND NOW HE HATES ME.”

Bucky, panting, ran a hand down his soaked face, his biceps flexing with every movement. “I mean—”

“NO!” You cut him off, eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to talk.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. And then—so absolutely characteristic of him—he lunged.

You squeaked, but he was too fast.

One second, you were soaking him. The next, the hose was yanked from your hands and tossed somewhere (you didn’t care where, because holy shit).

Bucky’s arms caged you against the fence, droplets of water still trailing down his neck and collecting in the hollow of his throat. His wet shirt clung to his chest like a second skin, the muscles underneath shifting as he braced his hands against the wood beside your head. His breaths were heavy, controlled, his blue eyes searing as they locked onto yours.

A very big mistake on your part was looking down.

Because that’s when you noticed the way his shirt was now practically transparent, highlighting every ridge of his abs. His dog tags rested right at the base of his throat, shiny and wet, and suddenly you forgot every single word in the English language.

Bucky noticed.

His smirk was slow. “Cat’s got your tongue now?”

You swallowed, shifting, only for his arms to press in closer. “I—”

Bucky tilted his head. “You gonna spray me again?”

“… Maybe.”

His smile widened. “God, you’re so damn cute when you’re mad.”

Your pulse jumped, and Bucky—of course—felt it.

His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice lower now, rougher. “I—” He exhaled, then shook his head slightly. “I was being jealous.”

You blinked. “What?”

His jaw clenched, as if he was warring with himself. But then—slowly, like he was giving himself up—he leaned in, his nose brushing yours. 

“I didn’t like seeing you with him,” he admitted. “I hated it.”

The confession sent electricity through you.

You squinted. “So you, who fought in World War Two, thought the best way to deal with your jealousy was to hosing down a respected medical professional?”

He grinned, dimples peeking through. “I was very efficient.”

You made a noise of pure exasperation. “Oh my god.”

And then—because you were still so infuriatingly, ridiculously mad at him—you grabbed his soaking-wet shirt in both fists and yanked him down.

Bucky crashed into you with a growl, his breath hot against your lips for only half a second before he seized control, kissing you like he was starving for it.

His mouth slanted over yours, rough, greedy, tongue sweeping past your lips like he had something to prove. And maybe he did, because his hands—Christ, his hands—slid down, gripping, claiming, fingers digging into your hips as he yanked you closer.

Your whimper only made him groan deeper, the sound vibrating between your bodies as he pressed you back, caging you against the wooden fence.

His drenched shirt clung to his body, thin and wet, and when his chest pressed flush against yours, you felt everything. The hard ridges of muscle, the heat radiating off him, the faint clink of his dog tags as he moved against you, like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss you harder or pull back and wreck you with his eyes.

You curled your fingers into the soaked fabric of his shirt, trying to ground yourself, but Bucky—the bastard—just growled again, tearing his mouth away to kiss a path down your jaw, your neck, nipping at the skin like he wanted to mark you.

Your head thunked against the fence, your legs threatening to give out, and Bucky—because he was an asshole—chuckled, his lips ghosting against your throat.

“Easy, doll.” His voice was pure sin, raspy and smug and dripping with heat. “Didn’t realize you wanted me this bad.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Excuse me?”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and wrecked, lips kiss-swollen and wet. “You heard me.”

Oh, that was it.

Your hands shot up to his stupidly hot jaw, yanking him back into another kiss, this time making sure he was the one losing balance.

He groaned, low and deep, his grip tightening on your waist like he was debating just hauling you up against the fence and having his way with you right there.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and dazed, Bucky was still holding you like he was trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms.

His forehead rested against yours, his fingers flexing against your waist like he was trying to calm himself down before he said something stupid.

You smirked, your lips tingling.

“… You’re so gonna make me come to work and apologize, aren’t you?” His voice was still thick with want, but there was a rough amusement under it.

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

× × × ×

“Come in.” A deep, intimidatingly unimpressed voice called from inside.

Bucky let out one final breath, straightened his spine like a soldier, and walked in with you trailing behind.

Dr. Harrington.

The man was sitting at his desk, reviewing charts, his expression exhausted and vaguely murderous—the exact look of a surgeon who had been woken up in the middle of the night one too many times to deal with absolute nonsense.

Dr. Harrington glanced up. His gaze landed on you first, then flicked to Bucky.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh. It’s you.”

Bucky had never wanted to disintegrate more in his life.

Dr. Harrington slowly closed his folder, leaned back in his chair, and clasped his hands over his stomach, watching Bucky the way one might watch a particularly stupid animal at the zoo.

Bucky, to his credit, put on what you were sure he thought was a professional smile but actually looked like a man trying very hard not to run.

“Dr. Harrington,” Bucky greeted with a polite nod. “It’s, uh… nice to meet you. Officially.”

The older man stared at him for two full seconds. Then he turned to you, his brow arching. “This your boyfriend?”

Your mouth opened, but—

“Yes,” Bucky immediately said. Too fast. Too eager.

Dr. Harrington exhaled slowly, like he was trying to find inner peace. “You hosed me down like a feral dog.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Yeah, so—about that. Um.”

You nudged him hard in the ribs.

Bucky swallowed his pride. “I’m really sorry about that, sir. It was… a misunderstanding. And also…” He inhaled through his nose, like saying this next part physically hurt him. “It was very immature of me.”

You resisted the urge to clap.

Dr. Harrington drummed his fingers against the desk. “Immature.”

Bucky nodded. “Very.”

The attending hummed. “And the reasoning for this very immature behavior?”

 “...Jealousy.” Bucky shifted, looking off to the side.

You squinted at him. “Speak up.”

His jaw ticked. He straightened his back and begrudgingly admitted, “I was jealous.”

Dr. Harrington blinked slowly, then glanced at you with unmistakable amusement. “Is he always this possessive?”

You opened your mouth.

Bucky, again, too fast, “Nope. Not at all. Super chill. Very normal.”

Dr. Harrington sighed, rubbing his temples. “You ruined my scrubs.”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” Bucky said instantly. “Better ones. Custom-tailored. You want your name embroidered? Done. You want gold-threaded seams? Got it. You want a diamond-encrusted scalpel? Say the word, Doc.”

The older man stared. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

Bucky took a moment to process this.

Then, with the utmost confidence, “...Is it working?”

Dr. Harrington let out a long, suffering sigh.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Bucky beamed like a golden retriever. “So… we’re cool?”

Dr. Harrington’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky your girlfriend is a damn good doctor.” He turned to you. “Your first lead surgery is still on, but if your. . . guard dog here shows up again with a hose, I will be the one hosing him down in the ER.”

Bucky gasped, clutching his chest. “Violence? In a hospital?”

“We’re leaving.” You grabbed his sleeve.

Bucky threw up a two-finger salute. “Pleasure doing business with you, Doc.”

Dr. Harrington waved a hand. “Get him out of my sight before I retract my decision.”

You dragged Bucky out the door, ignoring his smug grin.

“So,” he said as soon as you were in the hallway. “Am I officially boyfriend of the year for saving your surgical lead?”

You deadpanned, “You literally almost ruined it.”

“But I fixed it.”

You gave him the flattest look you could muster. “You bribed my boss with diamond scalpels.”

Bucky slid an arm around your waist, smirking. “I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

You groaned. “You’re the worst.”

His smirk widened. “And yet…” Bucky leaned in, voice dropping as he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re still gonna kiss me later,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin.

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest, “Go home will you?”

Bucky finally—finally—stepped back, that smug little smirk still plastered on his stupidly handsome face, “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, giving you a one last look before turning on his heel. Then just as he reached the door, he glanced over his shoulder, voice softer now, “Oh and, good luck on your first lead.” 

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @veronicapaula

[jadegrey711]

Omf help the Wally smut is just perfect.

Imagine like Wally and reader finding aphrodisiac chocolate or something from an alive football player falling out of the pocket. Wally doesn’t know what it is so he eats it and

Oh well. Wally Clark experiencing aphrodisiac for the first time with mind blowing sex, pussy eating and cock blowing omg

Hello dear anon! So I had to do a little research thought this was like a sex pollen request and I'm not in the mood for sex pollen right now lmao. I did do some research on the chocolate itself and decided to spice it up a bit for storytelling purposes. I hope you like this delightfully naughty oneshot, I definitely got a bit carried away with it.

*Not My Gif*

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

*Not my gif*

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake.

Another game where the Split River Bandits demolished their rivals and Wally was cheering like they had just won the Superbowl on the field with the players. You smiled down at him as he waved at you excitedly, you waved back and watched as Wally ran up the stairs of the bleachers; a giant smile on his face.

"Did you see that baby?" He said excitedly, grabbing hold of the lapels of his letterman jacket you were wearing and bringing you close to his body and pressed a sweet kiss against your lips.

"I did!" You smiled back.

"Wow! What a game! That kid Patricks could totally go pro! He ran that ball in, all the way from the forty yard line. And did you see that interception?"

You felt a small pang in your heart, thinking about Wally's very short football career, and how far he could've gone had he not died on the field that night. "I did! It was amazing! They did good tonight." You smiled, pressing another kiss to Wally's lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to his body and deepening the kiss. His tongue slipping past and intermingling with yours, before you lightly pressed against his chest, pushing him away.

"Easy there, Tiger." You said, looking around to see if the rest of the ghosts were watching.

Wally smirked, before he pressed a quick kiss to your nose. "Going to go celebrate with the team and meet up with you later, baby."

"Okay." You giggled. "Have fun!" You shouted as you watched him climb back down the stairs of the bleachers, hooting and hollering with the rest of the team as they made their way into the locker room.

Wally loved celebrating with the players, even if they couldn't see him, he was jumping up and down with them enjoying the adrenaline rush of winning the last game of the season. He looked around at the faces of the people he'd known for the past four years, and wondered what the future held for this bunch and what the next group would bring to the table.

As the group changed out of their gear and into their jerseys to go celebrate the last win of the season off campus, Wally followed the group out as they left the locker room, Patricks was the last to leave. Hurriedly grabbing his backpack, he didn't notice it was open and Wally watched as something fell out of the front pocket.

"Hey man." Wally tried in vain, to get the player's attention, and just sighed picking up the little pink item, turning it over in his hands and seeing it was chocolate. "Oh sweet!" Wally opened up the chocolate bar and saw the three little squares wrapped in gold foiling.

"Oo fancy chocolate." Each square had a little symbol on the front of the square. Wally squinted trying to make them out.

"Is that a peach? Does that mean it's peach flavored? Hmm." He said unwrapping the peach chocolate and popped the entire square in his mouth. "Okay definitely not peach. Cherry flavored? Interesting. I wonder what the raindrop one tastes like." Wally pocketed the rest of the chocolate and went off to find you.

.....

You made your way back to your little spot tucked away in the school that you and Wally had claimed as your own. You knew Wally loved hanging out with the team for a while after a big win, so you went and hung out with Charley and Rhonda before making your way back.

When you got back to where Wally was, you saw him lounging shirtless on the mats that made up your bed/lounging area.

Wally's head immediately snapped in your direction as you entered the room. "Hey baby." Wally said, his voice sounding a bit gruff, as he got up from the mats and made his way over to you.

"Hey Wally." You smiled brightly. "How was the after part-" You were cut off briskly as Wally grabbed your hips and pulled you flush to him.

Your eyes widened but not only from the forceful sensation of Wally's tongue immediately slipping into mouth, his tongue dominating over yours and sucking on it. But also because when he pulled you close to him, you could feel his hard cock pressed against your stomach as it strained against his soft sweatpants.

"Wally." You moaned. Feeling his large hands, snake down your back and cupped your ass. Trying to bring you impossibly closer to his body than you already were, and you swore you could feel him buck his hips just the smallest amount against you. "What's gotten into you?" You grunted, trying to push him away but could only manage to break the kiss.

"I just missed you baby, that's all." He whispered, nuzzling your neck, placing soft kisses in the spot that he knows drives you wild.

"I was only gone for like an hour." You giggled, and then grunted as you felt him sucking on your sweet spot. "There's no way you could miss me this much after an hour." You stated firmly, pushing him harder and finally getting him to detach from your neck, holding him at arm's length.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "There's no way I've been gone for that long, that you could be this horny."

"What can I say? You drive me absolutely crazy." He purred, leaning closer to nuzzle at your neck. "Do you wanna feel how much you drive me crazy?" He said reaching for your hand and pulling it towards the waistband of his sweats.

"Wally!" You said pulling your hand back, and taking a step away from Wally.

Wally didn't miss a beat, as he took a step towards you, arms reaching. "Mmm. I love it when you say my name. I like it even better when you scream it when your sweet pussy is full of my cock."

"Okay!" You said putting your hands up and turning you back to Wally. "Someone had booze or drugs and you decided to indulge. I don't blame you but good lord this is -" Wally cut you off again as he grabbed you and snaked his arms around your middle, pulling you against his body.

He was impossibly hot to the touch.

"No drugs. No booze. I just have this desperate need to feel you cum all over my fingers, baby" He said and you watched as he gruffly shoved his hand inside your jeans, and began palming your sex.

"There's my girl. So wet for me already."

You gasped, as he slid two of his fingers inside your hot pussy, pumping them slowly into you. While his thumb traced small circles against your clit.

You couldn't help but jerk your hips into his hand, your head falling back into the crook of his shoulder as you could feel yourself growing wetter at Wally's touches.

"Wally." You whimpered. "What's gotten into you?"

He hummed against your neck, his nose dragging up and down your neck, inhaling your scent; as his fingers continued to lazily pump into you. "Nothings gotten into me, but I hope to be buried inside you tonight, baby." He growled punctuating his statement by pressing you harder against him so you can feel his cock straining against the small of your back.

You felt your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as you felt Wally's soft lips, brush against your neck. "God baby, you just drive me crazy." He whispered, before sucking harshly on the spot where your collarbone and neck met.

Causing you to buck your hips into his hands, as his fingers drove into you faster, your release just on the edge.

"Wally!" you moaned out and grabbed onto Wally's biceps, his presence a constant reminder that you weren't going to drown as your orgasm crashed over you, seeming to take the very breath from your body.

Wally pulled his fingers out of your pants and you watched as he put them in his mouth. You felt yourself growing hot again as Wally moaned around his fingers, tasting your release.

"Baby." He moaned. "I could just eat you up."

Before you could even react, Wally grabbed your waist and threw you over his shoulders and carried you back the two feet to the mats that were spread out on the floor. Laying you down, he immediately went after the tops of your jeans.

"These need to come off now." He growled, his large hands roughly yanking your jeans down your legs. You watched with trepidation as Wally took in the sight of you.

"Wally." You whispered, as Wally's hands reached for you again, his hands felt scorching against your legs as he traced them slowly up your legs, to play with the hem of your panties. "Wally." you whispered his name again, this time getting his attention. His dark brown eyes met with yours, making your heart jump.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and felt your cheeks heat. "What about you?" You said in an impossibly soft voice, but he heard it nonetheless.

"Trust me baby." He said taking your legs in his hands, so your knees were bent and pushed together as he rolled you to place a kiss on both sides of your hip. "Everything that's going to happen tonight is going to be purely selfish."

You let out a gasp as Wally suddenly flipped you over and grabbed your waist so your ass was in the air. You braced the weight of your upper body on your forearms, as Wally's hands traced down your back, playing with the hem of your panties again before pulling them down, leaving them pooled around your knees.

Wally had never felt like this before, he didn't know what was in that chocolate but he felt like his skin was on fire, and you were the tall drink of water he couldn't wait to guzzle down.

"Did you really think that sucking you off my fingers was going to be enough for me? I'll never get enough of you honey. Enough of your body." He breathed, kissing the small of your back. "Enough of your soft little moans." He said as he kissed the top of one of your ass cheeks, before biting it softly and doing the same to the other. "Enough of your sweet taste." He whispered before notching his leg in between yours and pushing your legs apart more, so he could nestle himself in between your legs comfortably. His hands grabbed your hips and brought your body back to his awaiting tongue.

You let out a loud moan, dropping your head to the mats under you, as you felt Wally's tongue dive into your hot center. He'd eaten you out a couple of times before, but this time was different, he'd never done something like this.

His tongue felt deeper, as it slid in and out of you, before finding your clit, and eliciting a groan from you as he sucked and flicked the swollen bud with the tip of his tongue. His nose nudged your tight hole, as he spread you wider for him. He ran his tongue back down the length of your folds and started to fuck you with his tongue again.

"Fuck baby. You always taste so sweet for me." He moaned against your skin, his hand running up the length of your back, keeping you arched into his mouth perfectly. "I could do this forever, keep you here like this for me. Maybe I could tie you up next time, and you'd never get away from me or my tongue." He chuckled, the image of you tied and whimpering as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you making him even harder than he already was.

Oh yeah Wally Clark was definitely into overstimulation kink.

You let out a sharp gasp, as you felt Wally reached around with his hand and start rubbing your clit, as he started to fuck you with his tongue again and you knew you were close.

"Wally." You moaned, pushing your ass closer to his face. He hummed against you, his finger moving faster as you felt your orgasm build to a height you didn't think you could survive from.

"Wally." You moaned out again, feeling desperate as you clawed your nails into the mat, searching for an anchor to keep you sane. And in the next moment your orgasm violently ripped out of you, causing you to scream.

You felt Wally hold onto you, knowing that you'd tried to get away from the pleasure he was pulling from your body, as he continued to eat you out slowly through your orgasm.

He left you feeling boneless, as he lavished your sensitive pussy with kisses, lapping up your release. While your face was pressed into the mat, having no energy to even lift your head let alone pull away from Wally.

When Wally finally pulled his face away from your pussy, he was grinning ear to ear. "Best snack of the day." He chuckled. "Much better than that chocolate from earlier."

"What chocolate?" You asked through the haze of your orgasm.

"It's nothing baby." He purred as he traced his hand down your back as you heard the tell tell sound of his sweats being pulled down. "I'll share some with you later." He smiled before pushing himself into your tight wet pussy.

Tonight was going to be a long night

[witherby]

When Bruce brought Mousy in, they had that new baby smell. The baby smell that always seems to be on few months babies. Which is exclusively why weekly cuddle huddles now exists in the manor. Just one day/half day in a week with the whole Batfam +Alfred huddled around in the living room under a giant pillow fort and they just relax and play with Mouse before eventually taking a short group nap to calm down a little bit from all the stress of vigilantism from the week.

-🍨

That's so sweet and cute. Allow me to show you what it looked like before they established the weekly cuddle huddle.

The Littlest Wayne: New Baby Smell

"The baby's gonna have a nose-shaped dent on top of their head if you keep doing that."

Bruce lifts his head just enough to press his cheek to the top of your tiny head instead, then settles back down into the couch. Tim rolls his eyes.

"How good even is the smell? They're a baby," he says, opening his hands. "B, my turn. Give."

"Hmm. Fine, but remember to support the head. They don't have any well-developed neck muscles yet."

Tim scoops you up and sniffs your face. Then he does it again at the crown. You make a low, curious noise, but otherwise don't care.

"What the hell, this is amazing." Tim turns and walks out of the room with you.

"Tim!" Bruce calls, offended. "Hello? Give me back my baby?"

"My baby now." Tim keeps walking and Bruce gets up and follows him until they're both in the day room. The teen sinks into the much more plush couch cushions and gently presses his nose to your head. "What do they do to babies to make this happen?"

"Google it. I'll hold them while you do," Bruce says, reaching for you again. Tim ducks away from his hands. "That was rude. Don't you have anything else to do today?"

"Cleared my schedule," Tim says. "I'm totally free. Don't need to do a thing but this." He sniffs you again. "Babies are so weird. Hey. Hey you. Yeah, hello, open your eyes. Hi! You're silly and weird and smell great. Do you know that?"

You squint, nose crinkling in irritation. Why is your warm bed being so noisy? You are tired. Silence, warm bed.

"You're bothering them. Give me the baby," says Bruce.

"You're bothering them. Go annoy one of your other kids. I'm getting my brotherly bonding in."

"Bothering? I love bothering people," Jason says, strolling into the room. "What are we doing?"

"Why are you here?" Tim asks.

"Cause I'm also nosy. Answer the question, Replacement."

After some gentle wheeling (read: Jason threatening to go declare himself alive just to make their already hectic schedules ten times worse), they tell him. Dick, who was passing by, hears this and peeks his head in, too, and it's not long before you're being passed around like a bong at a campfire so your family can get a hit of that new baby scent.

Damian finds his whole family another hour later, curled up in a big, careful pile around you and dozing.

"Ridiculous," the assassin mutters, whisking you away to be placed back in your crib. "Don't they know that smell is strongest at your head because it's coming from your brain, which you can only detect because your skull hasn't fully hardened yet? If you smell good, your parents won't want to abandon or kill you in favor of raising your stronger kin, thus greatly increasing your chances of survival. Classic evolutionary biology."

He lowers you back down into the crib. Instinctively, your tiny hand finds its way around his finger and grips it tight. Damian thumbs over the back of your hand for a moment, quickly checks over his shoulder, then leans down and sniffs your head.

"Bye," he mutters, gently prying his hand free and leaving you to rest.

[uvobreakmylegs]

Waiting

part 2 of the Cute Hunter!reader fic but from the perspective of a different troupe member

Part 1 (Chrollo x reader)

Phinks x Cute Hunter!reader

Warnings: captivity, angst, death, body horror, this is a Phinks x reader fic but there's still Chrollo x reader moments

Word Count: 12.8k

Phinks saw Chrollo standing alone, waiting at the top of a short flight of stairs that lead to the entrance of a lone house which stood amid a nearby forest and long open fields. No doubt he had sensed the enhancer coming. There weren't any other structures in sight, and the last time Phinks remembered seeing any sort of home outside of the one he was currently looking at was several miles back along the route he had taken. Being able to tell that someone was approaching would've been easy.

The long car ride Phinks had embarked on came to an end when he stopped in the driveway, and after he collected the plastic bag that had been sitting in the front seat next to him during the entirety of the drive, the blonde stepped out of the car and slammed the door firmly behind him. He then paused for a moment, observing the area that surrounded him.

The multitude of various types of flowers which decorated the area in front of the house caught his attention first. Starting beneath the front porch and heading down the slight incline, rows of flowers stretched across the area, the colors consisting largely of red, orange and yellow. What any of those kinds of flowers were called, he couldn't even begin to guess ��� he'd never been the type of guy to care about things like that. Chrollo probably didn't care too much about them either. In fact, the entire picture of the home felt weird since it didn't seem to fit with Chrollo's typical aesthetic.

Though it did fit perfectly with yours.

Taking one last glance at the flowers while approaching Chrollo, Phinks noted the section towards one end of the flower bed that was barren as only dirt took up the space.

That seemed a bit odd.

He quickly turned his attention away as he approached the stairs.

“Hello, Phinks,” Chrollo said as the enhancer came closer.

“Hey boss,” Phinks said in turn.

Phinks stopped upon reaching the porch, the plastic bag in his hand swinging slightly as he came to a halt.

“Sorry if this was a bit too last minute,” the blonde said, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head.

“Not at all,” Chrollo said, “it's good to see you again.”

Phinks raised a brow in question.

“It hasn't been that long since we last saw each other.”

“No, but I'm always happy to see you and the others outside of jobs.”

Chrollo leaned against one of the pillars of the porch as he added “and I think this visit from you will be good for them.”

He hadn't needed to specify who he was talking about for Phinks to understand who he meant, and as he was once more reminded of the purpose of this visit, he unconsciously shifted his grip on the plastic bag in his hand.

That action drew Chrollo's gaze downward, noting the object held within with curiosity and slight fascination – it was the entire reason why Phinks had requested this impromptu meeting with you.

“I have to admit, I was surprised when you told me that you managed to get one of those,” he said.

“Same here, honestly. I wasn't expecting to come across one.”

“How did you find it?” Chrollo asked.

“Completely by chance,” Phinks replied, looking down at the bag briefly as he said “some arms dealer had it. Said he'd give me a good price when he caught me staring at it.”

Chrollo looked back up to him as he asked “did you actually pay for it?”

“Of course not. I beat the shit out of him and took it.”

Chrollo chuckled as he said “taking after Uvo again, I see.”

“I'm not that bad,” Phinks huffed, “but the guy pissed me off so I decided not to pay him.”

“But you left him alive?”

“Yeah, but I'm not worried about retaliation. That guy will be too focused on recovering to worry about me.”

“It must have been quite the beat down, then,” Chrollo commented.

“Not really. It was a couple hits at most. Even for a non nen user, that guy was weak,” Phinks answered.

Chrollo chuckled again.

“I'll trust your judgment, then. But if you are hunted down for what you did, I'll expect you to take care of it if there's any interference with troupe business,” Chrollo said, though his tone was more lighthearted than serious.

“If we do have trouble because of that, I'll take care of it,” Phinks answered, “or I'll send Uvo to go do it. It doesn't take much for him to join a fistfight.”

Chrollo hummed in agreement.

Then the boss stepped aside, motioning to the interior of the home with his head as he said “please, come in.”

Phinks nodded.

Chrollo again motioned for Phinks to follow, and then the two men entered the home, cutting through a few different rooms as Chrollo led the way to the back of the structure. The inside matched more with what he knew of Chrollo's tastes, Phinks noted to himself. Lots of art, elegant looking furniture, and several different bookshelves that were filled with what were likely old and very pricey books. There were a few different pieces, both books and art alike, that he recognized had come from previous heists. Pieces that would likely be gone from the home within a matter of months once Chrollo tired of them, though there was a slight chance that some of them might stay permanently if his leader felt strongly enough for them.

But mixed in with all of that were little signs of you.

Often it came in the form of a pop of color that stood out against the deep, rich shades of Chrollo's normal aesthetic, and always in the form of some sort of plant life, sitting among or next to the expanse of a largely stolen collection. The flowers he could see were a mix of the colors you tended to use most often: pink, yellow, purple and white. All different types of flowers, and once again none of which were ones that Phinks knew the name of.

But maybe he should try to learn at some point. For you.

“Where are they?” Phinks asked when he didn't see you.

“Outside, around the back,” Chrollo answered.

Phinks' brows furrowed in question.

“Outside? Alone?”

“It's fine. They know now what's expected of them.”

Chrollo stopped before a pair of sliding glass doors that opened up to the backyard, and beyond a wooden deck attached to the home, Phinks caught sight of a figure that was sitting in the middle of an open field. His grip on the bag tightened a fraction when he looked at you; even with how far away you were, there was a sense of gloom that surrounded you.

“How's it been with them?” Phinks asked.

“I wish I could say that they've been a bit more accepting,” Chrollo answered as he slid open one door, “but even though they don't fight me on everything, there's still too much resistance on their part. They'll listen, but only begrudgingly.”

Phinks' face fell slightly as he asked “should I not go, then?”

“No, you should. You came all this way to see them, after all. And perhaps seeing you will encourage good behavior.”

But before he stepped back, Chrollo glanced over at the enhancer as he said “I'm sure I don't need to tell you not to mention what happened the other week.”

“I figured, boss.”

After hearing that, Chrollo stepped aside, allowing Phinks unhindered access to the outdoors. The blonde obliged, stepping forward and making his way to where you sat.

Having once again returned to the outdoors, Phinks once again found himself looking at the details in the area that surrounded him. Stepping down from the stairway of the backyard deck, he noticed what appeared to be a small vegetable garden to his right. More of your work, he assumed. Being able to grow food from anything was a handy aspect of your ability, he had to admit. With that, you'd never go hungry.

Having something like that would've been nice when you were all growing up in Meteor City, he noted to himself.

It was definitely a better way to use it than your whole thing with the flowers.

Speaking of which, the field that he was walking into was barren of them, as when he glanced about again, all he could see was green grass. That felt odd. In the other places where you'd lived with Chrollo, you made a point to fill up as much of the area as you could with flowers, much like the way you had added greenery to the inside. Much like the way you had decorated the front of the house, actually, though that too had a space that was oddly empty. Clearly you had started on that at one point, so it was strange that you hadn't continued, out front or back here.

Did Chrollo not give your ability back until today?

If that was the case, then it was better not to say anything.

Phinks was able to see more as he came closer to where you were sitting – the way you sat with your legs crossed, the way your fingers grasping at a wild patch of grass that stood next you and the way you stared absentmindedly at the clouds overhead while the breeze ruffled your clothing. It felt slightly picturesque, with you being in the middle of the nature you loved so much, even if it did seem weird that you hadn't yet decorated the field with flowers.

What kind would you choose if you did?

The enhancer found his mind blanking on an answer. The basic flower names that he knew off the top of his head probably weren't ones that you would choose.

Turning his attention back to you, he found that from where he was currently, you looked a bit better than you had the last time he'd seen you.

He frowned to himself.

The last time he'd seen you, you had been blinking back tears and glaring at him when he tried to come close, silently making it clear that you didn't want anything to do with him. While the way in which you pushed him away from you had hurt, he did what you wanted, not wanting to agitate you further.

But maybe now you'd be okay with him coming close.

Phinks continued to walk towards you, his gaze never straying from where you sat in the middle of that field. He saw the moment when you noticed him – though you didn't turn around to look at him, you stiffened slightly as you sensed his presence. While you clearly knew he was there, you didn't acknowledge him, keeping yourself turned away from him while your gaze fell down to your lap.

That wasn't great, but you weren't turning to glare at him like you had last time. So that was something, at least.

When he was nearly upon you, he called out to you.

“Hey,” Phinks greeted.

“….. Hey,” you replied.

“How's it been?” he asked, stopping next to you. You weren't looking up at him and were still keeping your gaze on your lap.

“I don't know,” was your answer.

…. Phinks wasn't sure what to say to that. With Chrollo letting you out and about without any sort of leash to keep you tethered, metaphorical or otherwise, the enhancer had thought maybe you'd be a bit more receptive to him, that you might be in better spirits over the whole situation.

Instead, you seemed rather listless as you sat there, staring down at nothing with a blank expression.

Maybe if he kept talking, he'd break through to you.

“This is a nice place,” Phinks commented as he glanced over the area.

“Is it?” you asked.

“I mean, I thought so? I'm not even that much of a nature lover, but this seems like an ideal spot if you want to get away from everything and go back to your roots. It's the kind of space I usually picture you being in,” Phinks said.

“Hm.”

….. That response of yours wasn't promising.

“You don't agree?” he asked.

“It's hard to enjoy much of anything when you have Chrollo constantly breathing down your neck,” you said.

“Oh.”

Experience told Phinks not to argue with you over your feelings on Chrollo. Doing so was a surefire way for you to become irritated or even outright angry with him. Though he could handle your anger, he didn't like seeing you that way.

But with how listless you were at the moment, he found that he didn't mind the thought of you being upset if just so he could see some sort of emotion on your face.

You didn't give him a chance to say anything, however, as you spoke before he could.

“So,” you began, a sigh in your voice as you asked “did you come here just to have me make you weed again?”

Phinks blinked.

“No,” he answered defensively.

“That's a surprise,” you answered dryly, “did Chrollo tell you not to ask for that anymore?”

“Like he gives a shit about that.”

You hummed. Then finally, you looked over to him, your eyes immediately going to the bag he held.

“It doesn't look like there are beer cans in there. Am I making weed out of something else?” you asked.

“I'm not here for that!” he insisted.

With a huff, Phinks held the bag out as he said “I'm here for you. I brought you something.”

“… Something for me?” you asked, your tone slightly suspicious.

There was a bit more life in your voice when you asked that, and Phinks found himself feeling more hopeful when you turned to look at him. One of your eyebrows was raised in question as you looked between him and the plastic bag. Even though it wasn't necessarily a happy expression, it was a far cry from the listless, dead look in your eyes that had been there moments earlier.

“Take it,” Phinks urged you, holding out the bag further.

Staying seated on the ground, you reached out, gently gripping the handles as you pulled it towards yourself. Your fingers brushed against his for a moment – only for a moment, as he relinquished the bag once it was in your grasp. When you grasped the handles with both hands and pulled it open to peer inside, there was a change in you.

A light sparkled in your eyes that hadn't been there before as you gazed at the contents of the bag.

That sight stirred up memories from your shared childhood.

The pot with bunches of pink flowers amid green leaves instantly caught Phinks' attention when he stepped into the worn-down structure that served as a home for you, Feitan and himself, and he looked at it in question from where it had been placed in the center of the room while you sat close by, your gaze going to the entrance as Phinks stepped in and smiling at him in greeting.

“Hey, Phinks,” you said to him.

“Hey,” he answered before looking back to the flowers, “what's this?”

“Flowers.”

He narrowed his gaze in annoyance at your response.

“I can see that. But why are they here?”

“Why? Um….. I wanted them? And nobody else seemed interested in them, so…..”

Phinks raised an eyebrow as he asked “are you sure that's a good idea? Last time I checked, you didn't know anything about taking care of plants.”

You shifted slightly as you placed a hand on the base of the potted plant, as if you were worried he was going to take them away.

“It can't be that hard, right? I just need to make sure it gets plenty of sunlight and water,” you answered.

“We only have so much clean water to go around. We can't spare any for that,” he countered.

“I'll give it some of my share. You and Feitan won't need to worry about it.”

“I'm not letting you go without water for a plant.”

“I'll be fine.”

“No, you won't.”

“I will. I'm sure I can find a way to make it work.”

“Yeah, by letting yourself go thirsty, which I'm not gonna let happen,” Phinks said.

“I'll be okay.”

You said that as you went as far as to gather the pot into your arms and on your lap, making it even more clear that you feared he would attempt to take it away from you. He was tempted to do just that, but only because the idea of you going without water for the sake of some flowers was astronomically stupid and again, not something that he was going to allow to happen.

But as he stared at you and saw that nervous expression on your face, the one that threatened to turn into full-on sadness if he should take the plant away from you, he found his nerve faltering. He never liked it when you cried.

Phinks sighed as he crossed his arms.

“Why does this matter?” he asked, “they're just flowers. You can see them anywhere.”

You shook your head, saying “not like these ones. I've never seen these in Meteor City before. And they're prettier than the ones that grow here.”

“That's supposed to be a good reason for keeping them?”

“I think so.”

“That's stupid.”

You frowned upon hearing Phinks' statement, but when you looked back at the pink flowers that sat on your lap, he saw a swell of emotion in your eyes as you gazed at them. Of happiness and hope.

“Maybe there's a way I can grow more of them, that way Meteor City can be filled with them. That way everyone can see how pretty they are,” you said.

“I wouldn't get your hopes up. For all you know that thing could be dead by the end of the week,” Phinks told you.

You pouted that time, more annoyed with his lack of confidence in you.

“I can grow more,” you said.

“How?” Phinks asked.

“I just can,” you answered defensively.

At that, he sighed once again.

“You know,” Phinks began, “stuff isn't going to happen just because you really want it to. The world doesn't work like that.”

“But you never know. Maybe it can. Maybe I can figure it out,” you said.

That time, your tone was less defensive and more hopeful.

Despite his reservations, Phinks didn't have the heart to make you throw out the flowers. Neither did Feitan when he returned and saw the mass of pink petals that stood out from the cracked, plastic pot. You again spoke of your wish to grow more of the flower so everyone in Meteor City could see it, again with no explanation with how you were going to achieve that. Both Phinks and Feitan shared a look when you said that, and both were aware that it wasn't good that you honestly believed you could do that, but neither had it in them to say anything further on the subject.

You held onto that potted flower for the rest of the evening, staring at it with no small sense of amazement and wonder. When you went to bed that night, you placed the pot on top of a small step stool and you gazed at it from where you laid in your bed until you eventually fell asleep. Neither Phinks nor Feitan understood what exactly it was about those flowers that had enraptured you like that, but with life in Meteor City being as hard as it was, they mutually decided to let you hold onto that little piece of happiness for as long as it was able to last.

It turned out to only be two weeks, for despite all of your efforts in keeping it watered and placing it in the sun, the flowers slowly wilted and lost their soft pink color. The day that the plant died, Phinks found you staring at it again, and this time your mood was much more somber and that sparkle of happiness within you had vanished completely.

It was expected – no one can have nice things in Meteor City.

But even though this was the exact thing that he had told you would happen, Phinks felt bad for you.

Walking over to where you sat, he caught your attention when he placed his hand on top of your head as he ruffled your hair encouragingly.

“I'll find you more,” he promised.

You stared up at him for a moment.

And then your face broke out into a small but grateful smile, the sight of which sent a surge of warmth lighting up inside of him.

It felt like it was the first time in what felt like a long while that Phinks saw you look at anything with that sort of excitement.

Made sense. Growing up was a surefire way of killing anyone's childlike sense of wonder. But it seemed like you'd caught it again as you held the bag he had brought you.

“Is this real?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you're giving this to me so I can change it?”

“Why else would I give you that thing?”

You glanced up at him before returning your gaze down to the bag, once again looking at the rectangular shaped box that held one of the worst things ever created: the Miniature Rose bomb.

A device that was used to wipe out hundreds of thousands in the initial blast, and was designed to devastate even more lives once the initial blast had gone off, as the smoke that came from the ignited bomb produced a deadly poison that spread to every living thing in its vicinity. With one of those bombs now in your possession, your mouth pressed into a small, determined line as you suddenly stood up, the bag that held the bomb inside swinging once more.

“Do you have a pen?” you asked.

Phinks reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain black pen, which he handed to you with no preamble. You were quick to grab it before you began to walk, heading towards the middle of the field. The enhancer walked with you, matching his pace with yours.

“I've never seen someone be this excited over a weapon of mass destruction,” he commented.

“It's not every day that I find one of these,” you answered, “despite how many still exist, they're stupidly hard to come across.”

“Isn't that a good thing? Less people are being blown up that way.”

“Yeah. But it'd be nice for me if I could find them easier.”

Phinks hummed.

“How many times have you changed a Miniature Rose?” he then asked.

“Today will make eight,” you answered, “I tried to keep an eye out for them when I was doing my job as a Hunter, but like I said, they aren't easy to get ahold of. And when you can find them, they're incredibly expensive, even for a Hunter.”

You turned your head to look at him as you asked “how did you find this?”

“This arms dealer who was talking to me had it.”

Your eyebrow raised again upon hearing that.

“Why would you of all people need to do business with arms dealers?” you asked, “what do you need weapons for when you can use your fists?”

Phinks shrugged.

“I dunno. I just wanted to see what he had. And I'd say it was a good thing I bothered since I found that for you,” he answered.

“That's true, I guess,” you conceded. Then you pursed your lips, seeming to have a hard time getting your next words out. Eventually, you were successful as you let out a soft “thank you.”

“No problem,” he answered.

The smallest of smiles graced your lips after he said that, and seeing that had him feeling good about everything.

This was better, he thought to himself. You weren't upset and you weren't emotionally dead. Instead, you walked forward with a spring in your step and clear purpose in mind as you went towards a particular spot in the field. Like maybe you had temporarily forgotten the situation you were in under Chrollo's care.

Though you wouldn't need to be in a situation like this is if you could just accept what the troupe wanted for you.

But voicing an opinion like that at this point in time would definitely make you upset, so he kept his mouth shut.

No need to ruin things so soon.

You stopped when you reached what was about the field's center. Phinks stopped with you, his hands in his pockets as he watched you place the bag down onto the ground.

“Why did we come over here?” he asked as you summoned your watering can.

“Changing a bomb like this causes there to be a lot more flowers to form than you might expect,” you explained as the seed packet fell into your hand, “if we're too close to the house, part of it could get overtaken.”

“What, the house will get turned into flowers?”

“No, but there'd probably be a good portion of the house that would get covered in them.”

“Can't you just cut them away?”

You gave him a stern look as you said “what's the point of changing the bomb if the flowers are going to be killed immediately after?”

“I thought the point was getting rid of the bomb,” he answered.

You let out a small huff of annoyance, but turned your attention back to the packet as you listed both the Miniature Rose Bomb and the plastic bag on one side before flipping over to write on the back. When he leaned in closer, Phinks was surprised that he actually recognized the name of the flower you were scribbling down.

“Turning the Miniature Rose into actual roses?” he asked.

“It feels appropriate, don't you think? Instead of being something terrible that might look beautiful to some, it can turn into something actually beautiful.”

Phinks hummed as he continued to watch the process for your ability. After handing him back his pen, your movements were hurried as you ripped the seed packet open and dumped the contents into the yellow watering can, as though you were impatient with the conditions you had set for yourself. After throwing the packet into the can and watching as the water swirled within, your finger tapped against the heart shaped handle incessantly.

Having seen your ability in action before, he was aware that the part where the energy required to change the desired object built up within the can would likely take some time.

Though it'd be interesting to see if the Miniature Rose would take a longer time than what Chrollo had used your ability for. It had been a little less than thirty minutes, if he recalled correctly.

Clearly you anticipated this taking some time, as you soon settled down onto your knees in front of the watering can, your hands resting on your thighs as you periodically glanced at the bag that held the bomb. Phinks joined you on the ground, watching the soft purple glow that emitted from the can's interior.

After a few moments, he commented “this feels like it's going to take a while.”

“It's a bit different than turning beer cans into marijuana, Phinks.”

“I mean, I figured, but…..”

His voice trailed off as he leaned in closer to get a look of the interior of the watering can, and he found that the water was still lapping about at the very bottom.

“We're gonna be here a while, aren't we?” he asked.

“Yep,” you answered plainly.

You seemed pretty relaxed about the whole thing. Made sense given that you'd changed seven of those bombs. Regardless of how terrible they were, by this point you knew what you were doing. Plus, if there was even a hint that something could go wrong, Chrollo wouldn't have allowed you to touch the thing.

Thinking back to the boss, Phinks wondered – what had Chrollo's reaction been when you told him of how you used your ability for the Miniature Rose? Phinks remembered he was mostly impressed that you had the nerve to mess with them like that while he overheard Feitan mumbling about how you were an idiot.

How did you figure you would be okay transforming the bomb, anyway?

“When you first changed a Miniature Rose, how did you know it'd be safe?” he asked.

You glanced over at him in question as you asked back “how did I know what would be safe?”

“How did you know the bomb wouldn't go off in the middle of it?”

“Oh, that.”

You stretched out your arms as you continued to wait for the can to fill as you answered “I didn't. I just crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.”

The nonchalant way in which you had said that pissed him off a little.

“That's fucking stupid. And reckless,” he said.

“Like you're one to talk.”

“I'm not the one who chose to dabble in experimental bomb disposal,” Phinks countered.

“Figuring out if I could change the bombs was worth the risk. And since it worked, it's not a big deal,” you said.

“Not a big deal? You could've blown up with the bomb.”

“It was worth it. The less of these things that exist in the world, the better.”

Phinks huffed.

“There's still thousands outside of the ones you've changed, though,” he pointed out.

“I know. But the more of them that I can change, the more lives that can be spared the awful fates that these horrible things bring on their victims,” you said passionately.

There was a fire burning in your eyes when you turned to face him as you continued with “even though that agreement exists to not use the bombs anymore, there way too many people in power that keep them 'just in case'. And because of the refusal to get rid of the bombs entirely, it's a fear at the back of the minds of millions of people every day: that the bomb could go off near them and destroy everything.”

“It might only one, but getting rid of this still makes a big difference. It's one step closer to making the world better for everyone,” you declared.

You then turned your attention back to the watering can, that fire still in your gaze as you stared at it while impatience was thrumming through you again as you once more waited for this part of your hatsu to finish.

Throughout your speech and then after it, Phinks remained silent.

There it was. Your childish idealism – that notion of yours that you could make the world a better place. While Phinks could admit that getting rid of nuclear bombs in the way you did was effective, you failed to understand that getting rid of the weapons that were used to blow away the masses wouldn't change much of anything. People would always hate, fight and kill each other, regardless of if they could get rid of thousands of lives all at once or if they needed to take their time doing it one by one.

Nothing was going to change no matter how many bombs you turned into roses.

But you had changed a lot.

Another thing that was normal. He and the founding members of the troupe had changed significantly since they were all kids in Meteor City. That was part of growing up. Yet you still held onto those things you had clung to as a child, such as your aforementioned idealism and your focus on the things that made you happy, that you firmly believed could lead to the happiness of others. Namely, your love of flowers and your belief that just the sight of them could lead to some sort of positive change.

In that regard, you were still the same as when you were younger.

But still, you had changed.

“No way,” Machi said.

“How come? People love a good princess,” Uvogin countered.

“Then you play her,” she told him, “I don't wanna do this unless I get to be a baddie!”

A discussion among the entire group started after that on who could play the Princess in their performances of the Power Cleaner episodes. Suggestions on who else in the group could play the princess were being shot down just as fast as they were being put forward, and for a moment, it seemed as though everyone was stumped on what to do.

Through it all you were staying quiet, sitting next to Sarasa while you watched Phinks and Feitan practicing for the next show. But Phinks had caught sight of that hopeful look in your eye as you heard the discussion continue, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt in nervous anticipation.

He knew what you wanted – he had seen the way your eyes lit up the instant the word “Princess” had been spoken.

Just ask them, Phinks thought to himself. Just ask if you can play the part, and they'll give it to you.

But no. A full minute passed, the discussion was still ongoing, and you weren't saying anything. Unlike when you were with him and Feitan, you were a bit more closed off with the rest of the group, and now your shy nature was getting the better of you and keeping you from making that request.

They won't know you want it if you don't ask. Were you really going to say nothing and let them give the role to someone else? Already, Phinks could imagine the dejected look you would make when they chose another kid to play the role, and you would have no one but yourself to blame for that.

While it pissed him off a little, Phinks decided to give you the push you needed, to ask you outright if you wanted to do it. Maybe then you'd speak up.

Only someone else beat him to it.

Calling out your name, Chrollo asked “why don't you play the part?”

You blinked in surprise, staring at Chrollo with an awestruck expression as you asked “you mean…. Me, as the Princess?”

Chrollo smiled.

“Yeah. I think you'd be perfect for the role,” he told you. Some of the others in the group seemed surprised, apparently assuming you would be too shy to want to perform in front of the other kids, while the rest echoed his sentiments as they encouraged you to accept. That was enough to get you on board. You smiled shyly, averting your gaze out of bashfulness as you quietly agreed to do it.

Everyone was in good spirits after that; Pakunoda assured you that you wouldn't regret it, Sarasa offered to give you tips on what to do if you felt scared on stage, Feitan smiled to himself on seeing how happy you were to get the role, and Uvogin was now teasing Machi on losing out on the chance to play the Princess while Machi reiterated that she didn't want to participate unless she was a bad guy.

Gathering up a couple of scripts, Chrollo went to where you were sitting and settled down next to you as he handed you one of them.

“The Red Power Cleaner and the Princess share a lot of scenes in this episode, so we should practice together,” he told you.

“Okay,” you answered softly while your body brimmed with barely contained excitement.

Though the others had their attention elsewhere, Phinks was still watching the two of you. And while he watched as you rehearsed your lines with Chrollo and the smiles and laughter shared between the two of you, Phinks suddenly felt a strange feeling of tightness in his chest.

It was only much, much later, when he happened to reminisce on that day, that he realized what he had been feeling was jealousy.

All of a sudden, it felt like there were eyes on the two of you.

A glance back at the house revealed it to be Chrollo, as Phinks could see the dark haired man looking out through one of the windows, keeping an eye on you while your hatsu went to work. It felt a little like having a chaperone. Slightly annoying, Phinks felt, but it was expected. Even though you fought hard against him and even though Chrollo had been harsh with you in the past, he only did it all because he was worried about you. They all were.

You seemed to notice his presence as well, as when Phinks looked back to you, that light of determination had gone out and the air around you was more somber, the corners of your mouth turning downwards in a frown.

As much as Phinks wanted to be annoyed by your change in mood, it was bound to happen eventually. The enhancer just wished that the relatively good moment between the two of you hadn't ended so quickly.

He still didn't like to see you upset.

Phinks stayed where he was, staring up at the sky while he the wait for the watering can to fill seemed to go on indefinitely.

Maybe he should've brought something to help pass the time.

“Do you still see Feitan a lot?” you asked.

Your question was unexpected – not just because a quiet had settled over the two of you, but also because you didn't tend to ask about the others these days. Looking over to you, he found that you still had your gaze on the watering can, and you didn't seem any happier than you had moments ago.

Still, he chose to answer your question as he said “yeah, we're in pretty frequent contact.”

“Just in contact? You don't live with him anymore?”

“Nah. I think we both like having our own spaces. More breathing room that way.”

As soon as he said that, he noted the way your frown deepened while your gaze narrowed to a glare.

Fuck. He'd said that to you when you were basically under house arrest with Chrollo. Hadn't you said something earlier about the boss breathing down your neck constantly? Of course that'd piss you off. He needed something else to talk about, something that would get you in a good mood again.

He thought he had it when he said “I saw Fei the other week, actually. Though we were both pretty miserable; Chrollo made both of us dress in tuxedos. I don't think either of us will get used to those things. Don't know why boss keeps using us for that kind of shit.”

“…. That was last week?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“With Chrollo?”

“Yeah.”

“And that was during the time he had my hatsu?”

“….. Yeah.”

Fuck

Chrollo's words rang in his skull, reminding him not to mention anything with that last job, and there he was, managing to mention the one thing he'd been told not to. How the fuck had he managed that?

Why was he like this when he was around you?

Now the air around the two of you was uncomfortable, and he didn't know where to go from here.

You apparently did, however, as you were the one who chose to take the reigns of the conversation. Turning your head back to look at him, you asked “Phinks, what happened last week?”

Phinks remained silent as he stared at you.

“Why did he need Revival Gardener? Why didn't he use me?” you asked.

“……”

You remained undeterred as you said “Phinks, you need to tell me.”

The enhancer held your gaze for a moment longer –

And then looked away.

“….. Really, Phinks?”

You almost sounded disappointed in him.

But there wasn't anything he could do. He wasn't going to betray Chrollo's order. Not for you.

Not when it would hurt you.

The boss wouldn't have said much about it, but you weren't stupid; you caught on that it was strange, that he hadn't forced you to go on that particular job and had instead borrowed your ability to use for himself. After all, the entire reason Chrollo brought you along on jobs was to help you get used to the death that the troupe dealt with on a regular basis.

Why then, you must have wondered, would he use your ability and leave you behind?

The only answer that you would have come to would be to assume he had done something that, in your mind, would have been horrific.

And now you knew that Phinks had been present for that.

It felt impossible to say anything now. If he tried to change the subject, you would notice and call him out on it. If he mentioned any small detail on the other week, even if he did it as nonchalantly as possible, you would press him for more. And when he flatly refused to tell you, you would become upset, and it would devolve into a mess.

Phinks couldn't think of anything else to say.

So he chose to stay silent.

You did the same as you returned your attention to the watering can, the water that had continued to swirl within not even coming close to the halfway point. With the two of you now at an impasse and still a long way to go before you could do what you wanted with the bomb, Phinks dreaded just how long the awkward silence would last.

Chrollo's presence vanished not long after, giving the two of you privacy. That seemed to relax you slightly.

When the can was a quarter of the way full, Phinks felt an urge to speak, but as he still didn't know what to say to you, he ultimately chose to remain silent.

He couldn't tell if you had noticed that or not.

When the can was halfway full, you spoke again.

“You don't need to stay here with me,” you told him.“I want to stay,” he answered.

You didn't respond to that.

When the water was beginning to make the last legs towards the top of the can, Phinks glanced up towards the sky, taking note of how the sun had clearly dipped slightly since he had first arrived. It had been noon when he got here originally, hadn't it?

Chrollo could've given him a heads up on how long this was going to take, he thought to himself.

When the water finally, finally reached the top of the can and stilled, it felt like a small eternity had passed. His legs almost didn't want to cooperate with him when he followed your lead and stood up from where he had been sitting, having remained in that position for a bit too long. If you were bothered in the same way, you weren't showing it as you immediately went to pick up the watering can, gripping those heart-shaped handles as you hoisted it off of the ground and moved so you were standing above the bomb.

Without a word, you tilted the can and began to pour the conjured water over it, and the bomb as well as the plastic bag were quickly soaked as the contents of the can rained down on them.

Phinks then sensed Chrollo's presence once again, the boss no doubt noting that there was a development out in the field. As much as he had criticized you for your ability and how he found it to be largely useless, Chrollo was no less fascinated by the process of change that came whenever you used it.

At least this second time around, you didn't react to Chrollo's presence in any way that Phinks could see.

The enhancer found himself wondering how much longer this would take as he watched the purple-tinted water cover every part of the bomb, and part of him dreaded it taking as long as the conjuration process had. Luckily for him, emptying the can was much less time consuming, as not too long after, the water ran out and the last few drops dripping from the sprinkler head before the can disappeared completely, its purpose served.

Your hands dropped to your sides as you took a step back, keeping your eyes on the bomb.

Finally, you were at the last step.

Wanting to gauge your current state, Phinks dared to speak as he asked “there isn't any chance of the roses changing back, right?”

“Changing back into the bomb?” you asked.

The fact that you were quick to answer was a good sign, he felt.

“Yeah.”

“There's no chance,” you murmured, your gaze still on the bomb as you added “once something has been changed with Revival Gardener, it can't change back. That's one of the conditions.”

“Huh. No wonder it can do so much, then.”

You hummed noncommittally at his reply.

Then after a few minutes had passed, you began walking backwards while you kept your eyes on the bomb. That time, you spoke up on your own.

“You won't want to be too close for too long; once it gets to a certain point, the area is going to fill up with rosebushes and you'll need to fight your way out of all the thorns and branches,” you told him.

“Is that something you learned the hard way?” Phinks asked, turning around as he began to walk with you.

“Mm.”

That answer seemed to indicate that he was correct. Though he doubted that you would have been injured much by something like that, whichever one of those frilly outfits that you liked to wear probably didn't survive a trek through thousands of scratching thorns.

Though considering that Chrollo was the one who supplied you with your wardrobe, it surprised him a little that you wouldn't have it destroyed on purpose if just for the sake of being spiteful.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw you stumble slightly when you walked over a tiny hill of dirt that had acted as an obstruction in the otherwise empty field. Without a second thought, Phinks placed his hand on your shoulder as he continued walking, intending to guide you while you kept your attention on the bag.

You glanced at him briefly, and while your expression was indiscernible, you didn't protest against the physical contact. Your gaze returned to what was in front of you as you continued walking backwards, this time with his assistance, allowing him to guide you while you kept your focus on your ability.

When you came to a halt, he stopped with you and looked back to where the bag had been left.

It wasn't too far away. Only about twenty steps or so, he noted.

“Is this far enough?” he asked.

“No, we'll need to move again. I just can't get too far for now.”

Turning his gaze away from the bag, Phinks brought his attention back to you, hoping to find that you were at least in slightly better spirits. Outside of the work you were doing for the troupe, you always seemed a little bit happy when you were allowed to use your ability. Even though you were angry with all of them for what you had been forced into, using your hatsu for the changes you wanted to see never failed to make you forget what your life had become, even if it was only momentarily. Phinks hoped that would be the case right now. It should've been the case, as you were erasing something that you desperately didn't want to let exist in the world.

But when he looked to you and saw that you were frowning as you stared across the field, it was not only disappointing, but also confusing.

Why weren't you happy?

Just then, you stiffened and began to walk backwards again. Phinks once more moved with you, guiding you again while he glanced over his shoulder.

There was a burst of movement across the field.

Originating from the spot where the bomb had been placed, thin brown branches spread across from that area within the blink of an eye, bursting through the plastic bag before they crawled forward, slowly growing larger as they overtook the grass that sat beneath them. The once empty field was filling up with long brown limbs that dipped and swerved with random patterns as they spread out wide, continually breaking off and forming separate branches, some of which began growing upward and turned green in color. As the stems came closer to the two of you, Phinks caught sight of the multitude of thorns that decorated the newly formed greenery alongside what appeared to be unopened flower buds.

When he looked again to the site where the bag had once laid, he couldn't see any sign of it or the Miniature Rose within. All that could be seen in that area was the writhing thorns that continued to come out like a geyser.

A few seconds later, the area where the both of you had been standing was obscured by the stems and thorns, and still there was no sign of it stopping. The long stems continued to reach out, growing as if they intended to cover the entire field.

“I see what you were saying about it covering the house,” he said.

“Mm.”

It didn't seem like you were really paying attention to him as you kept your eyes on the growing flowers, watching as the rosebuds began to bloom and set a striking red color against the sea of green that occupied the field. Just as the stems seemed to be coming to an end, the red began to overtake everything as more red petals opened up one by one, revealing the result that you wanted: the most deadly weapon in the world, now a mass of harmless flowers – or mostly harmless, as long as you ignored the thorns. He continued to watch with you as the flowers continued to grow, hiding the thorns and dark branches as they continued to bloom, the roses moving about like waves as the sheer amount of energy that had been placed into the Miniature Rose was converted by your hatsu. Phinks was once again impressed as he watched the red fill up the field, spreading far within the blink of an eye.

You were right when you said that it was different from turning beer cans into weed.

Finally, the movement of the plants began to still, slowing down as the branches ceased their bending and writhing, now finding stationary positions within the mass. The roses came to a halt as well, their petals open and soaking up the sunlight that came from above, and after that, the only movement they offered was a result from the breeze that blew by them, rustling the petals softly.

It felt like it was over.

“You weren't kidding about how many of them there were going to be,” Phinks commented as he looked about the once plain field that was now covered in roses as far as he could see.

When you didn't respond, he chose to take it as you still concentrating on your hatsu. Even though it looked like it was finished, maybe you weren't done quite yet.

“They look nice,” he then said after another few moments.

When you didn't respond that time, he felt a sense of unease rise inside of him.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“….. This doesn't feel right,” you answered.

Phinks blinked in surprise as he asked “what do you mean?”

“My hatsu. It feels wrong,” you said. Staring at the field in dismay, you added “ever since I got it back from Chrollo, it doesn't feel the same. Like it's been altered somehow.”

He grimaced, dismayed that the topic was again going back to Chrollo's use of your hatsu.

“I don't think boss changed anything about your ability,” Phinks told you, “maybe it just feels weird because it was taken away temporarily.”

You shook your head.

“It's not that. There's something different about Revival Gardener. Something he did when he used it,” you insisted.

Then you turned to him with a pleading look in your eyes.

“Phinks, you need to tell me what happened when he took it. I need to know what he did with my hatsu,” you said.

The enhancer stared at you for a moment before he shook his head.

“If boss says you don't need to know, then you don't need to know,” he said.

“I do need to know. It's my ability, and he used it for something awful, I just know it,” you insisted.

“Why do you want to know the details of something that you'll think is awful? Aren't you happy that he gave you a break from that?”

“Because it's my ability and I deserve to know.”

“If boss says no, then you don't.”

Phinks turned to leave, sensing that the conversation was going to go around in circles and ultimately end with you being upset. While it frustrated him, he knew by now that no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't going to be able to do much of anything to reassure you or calm you down. The best option he had was to remove himself from the situation.

He didn't even get to take a single step before he was stopped.

You grabbed at him, both of your hands wrapping around his wrist and wrenching it back as you kept him in place with a strength he hadn't been expecting. Unable to free his wrist, he looked back to see a desperate expression on your face. Your lip was wobbling and tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. You looked a lot like you did whenever Chrollo was about to make you change a body.

“Phinks, please,” you begged, “I need to know.”

“Please,” you said again as your grip on him tightened ever so slightly.

Phinks stared at you before looking down where you were touching, and as had been the theme for today, another old memory came rising to the surface.

“Let go of me, brat.”

The words came growling out of him as Phinks stared down at you, his grip tightening on the bat he had borrowed from Feitan in his hand. You were standing in front of him, shuddering, frail, looking like you were ready to cry, and the whole time you stood with both of your hands wrapped around his wrist. No matter what he did, he couldn't shake you off.

“I mean it – let go of me,” he snarled, “I have better things to do than look after some snot-nosed crybaby.”

Phinks pulled on his wrist again, only to be frustrated when he was once again unable to free himself of you.

“I'm not playing around!” he snapped.

He lifted up the bat after, holding it over his head as a threat. You bit your lip as you inhaled in fear, but you still wouldn't let go.

“Last warning,” he said, “let go before I beat the shit out of you.”

Your lip wobbled as tears finally came streaming down your cheeks.

But you still wouldn't let go.

Phinks tsked.

“Fine. You asked for it.”

And then he gritted his teeth as he prepared to bring the bat down on your head. As you sensed the impending violence, you clenched your eyes shut as you braced yourself.

But even then, you refused to let go.

Not far from where the two of you stood, the backdoor of the house slid open, then slid back shut.

Chrollo was out here now.

You froze when you realized that.

When you heard his steps descending the wooden stairs, you averted your gaze down at your feet as you released Phinks' wrist, pulling your hands back to your chest while you hunched up your shoulders with an obvious tension.

You looked like you were waiting for your executioner to reach you.

That wasn't the way you usually acted. Every other time the boss felt a need to interject himself in the middle of your visits, you reacted with defiance, not even bothering to hide the contempt you felt whenever you looked at Chrollo.

Now you couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, seemingly too scared to do that.

The sudden change in your attitude bothered Phinks, and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to make you react like that.

The enhancer turned his head as Chrollo came closer, the two men's eyes meeting as the raven haired man walked at an even pace.

“It just finished, I take it?” Chrollo called out in question.

“Yeah, I think so,” Phinks answered as he looked back to you. You weren't answering, and you had shifted your body slightly to the side in order to turn away from Chrollo.

All of that spirit from earlier was gone now, replaced by that of pure dread.

Phinks hated seeing you like that.

Chrollo came to a stop when he reached the two of you, humming as he surveyed the newly grown mass of rosebushes that bathed the field in red.

“They look lovely,” he said to you.

“Mm.”

Chrollo smiled at your minimal response, pulling up one of his hands in order to place it on your shoulder and give you a reassuring squeeze. Both men caught the sharp intake of breath you made as a result of that action.

“After all of that, you must be tired,” Chrollo told you, “I think it'd be best for you to come back inside, don't you?”

“Mm.”

The noise you made wasn't really an agreement, but it wasn't necessarily a disagreement, either. You didn't fight with him, either, when Chrollo began to guide you back towards the home.

That didn't stop you from giving Phinks a desperate pleading look as Chrollo wrapped his arm around your shoulder, something that, by now, the enhancer had seen more times than he could count.

Don't look at me like that, Phinks thought to himself.

When you saw that he was doing nothing, the look that served as a cry for help turned into a harsh glare.

Don't look at me like that either, the enhancer again pleaded internally.

You know it's for your own good, so please don't look at me like that.

Despite his wishes, you wouldn't stop, so Phinks was forced to avert his gaze as he once more stared out at your field of roses.

Even though he couldn't see you now, he could feel your disappointment in him when he did that. When, for the second time that day, he turned away in order to make it easier to ignore you. Yet again, it felt childish and stupid for him to do, but he didn't know what else he could do. Not when you made things to needlessly difficult. As he looked over the roses, the sign of the 'good' you had been allowed to do for the day, he sighed to himself.

You were being kept safe with Chrollo, you got frequent visits both from him and other members of the troupe, and you were still allowed use of your ability.

Why couldn't that be enough for you?

After a moment, Phinks followed behind the two of you while Chrollo continued to lead you back into the home. He took note of the way Chrollo handled you, his touch soft as he guided you gently, and much like how he had felt all of those years ago when he saw you and Chrollo practicing your lines together, Phinks couldn't help the pang of jealousy that hit him once again.

He wished he didn't need to leave you behind with Chrollo – he wished he could be the one to look after you, to help fix you so your values were in line with that of the troupe.

But Phinks knew that he wasn't suitable for that sort of thing. It was better to leave it to Chrollo, who knew what he was doing.

So despite the jealousy within him that made itself known, Phinks shoved it down and told himself to get over it. His personal feelings didn't matter right now. All that mattered was fixing you, and Chrollo was the only one who could do that.

No matter what, Phinks needed to believe in the boss.

No matter what he did, it was for the greater good for both you and the troupe.

Even if he found himself doubting that belief from time to time.

What had happened the other week wasn't a job. Not really.

It was an experiment.

The event Phinks found himself at seemed to be nothing more than an overly fancy dinner party at a rented out venue. What exactly the occasion was, Phinks hadn't caught, but it didn't feel as though that fact was important to know; those kinds of parties were always the same. The ones where guests were dressed from head to toe in ridiculously priced suits and dresses that the average person couldn't hope to ever afford while the meagerly paid waitstaff balanced large trays of drinks and food while they catered to the guests on hand and foot.

It looked to be the sort of thing Phinks loathed – trying to fit in with pretentious people always left him feeling pissed off, and despite expressing how much he hated pretending to be a guest at one of these things, he nearly always managed to get put in that kind of a role.

Chrollo had noticed Phinks' look of apprehension and was quick to reassure him that his role in the event would be a brief one and he wouldn't need to deal with the guests long. When Phinks asked what exactly Chrollo wanted him to do, his boss only said one thing:

“Lock the doors.”

So that was what he did.

Despite his misgivings on being made to wear a suit while he was knee deep in snooty assholes, Phinks entered the event and quietly kept to himself as he waited for the signal to leave the room. Feitan had also been present, and had the same role as Phinks, waiting for when the time came to exit the room where everyone had gathered and lock the doors behind him. The only one who wasn't in that room was Shalnark, as his role required him to remain away from the throng of guests.

And then there was Chrollo, sitting in the corner of the room that allowed him on unobstructed view of everyone within the room while he sipped at a glass of wine.

When the signal to move came, both of them had been ready. After what felt like hours of endless drivel coming out of the people who surrounded him that had Phinks feel as though he was slowly loosing his mind, he was quick to notice when the staff that wasn't meant to be in the main room – those of whom were supposed to be in the kitchen – suddenly entered, led by the manager of the establishment who had a pink bat needle stuck in his arm beneath his sleeve. The appearance of the kitchen staff was just as confusing to them as it was to the guests and waitstaff, but Phinks and Feitan both moved upon seeing that, getting up from their seats and heading towards the only other exits in the room. They were almost in sync with one another as they closed and locked the double doors, ensuring that everyone within the room was firmly sealed in with Chrollo as both men secured the handles with heavy chains.

Phinks heard the confusion of those within the room as some noticed the locked doors, and then he heard that confusion turn into surprise and slight panic as the sprinklers within the room went off, dousing everyone in water.

He and Feitan arrived at the security room together, finding Shalnark sitting in front of the screens that showed the scene within the ballroom they had just left. Some people were bordering on frantic, fearful that there was a fire and that they had been locked into the room, as none of the exits would open no matter how hard they banged their fists or kicked at the solid surface of the doors.

Other were annoyed as they seemed to believe that the water had been set off as some sort of prank, and the organizers of the event could be seen yelling at the manager on behalf of their ruined event while that manager, now free of Shalnark's control and thoroughly confused as to how he had ended up in the middle of the chaos, stuttered as he tried to calm down the situation.

All the while the purple-tinted water continued to rain down on all of them, and Chrollo continued to sit calmly beneath it, becoming just as soaked as everyone else within the room as he waited for the water to cease and the next part to begin – and to see if it would work in the way he believed it would.

Eventually the water stopped, the tampered tank at the top having run out. When that happened and there was no sign of any sort of emergency, the atmosphere in the room changed again as many within became angry, now certain that the dinner had been ruined on purpose. Arguments began breaking out amidst the efforts of those who were still trying to get the doors open while others were lamenting the water damage done to their clothing and phones.

In the middle of all of that, one elderly woman suddenly cried out and fell to the floor.

That got the attention of nearly everyone in the room, and most rushed over to where she lay, clutching her stomach as she let out another painful wail. Those around her made efforts to help alleviate her distress while others returned to the doors, determined to get outside.

Then another person, one of the waiters, cried out as he fell to the floor in the same manner as the woman. He wasn't able to get the same attention as the woman before him, however, as almost immediately after another scream of utter pain echoed within the confines of the room.

Then there was chaos.

More and more people began to double over, screaming in pain as they felt that something was wrong within them, something that was spreading through their bodies while they were left to writhe in agony. Those who had been at the doors were still pounding against them, still trying to get them open, but their attempts were much weaker now as they also began to succumb to the effects of the water.

The woman who fell first was also the first to stop moving, one last painful gasp leaving her mouth before she ceased her movements.

But she didn't remain still, as beneath the barrier of her skin, something was moving. And those who were closest and were capable of noticing her while dealing with their own pain cried out in horror as they saw the first signs of the vines and leaves that began to exit through her open mouth.

Phinks and the others watched on in silence as they looked at the scene through the monitors, seeing firsthand the result of Chrollo's experiment:

Revival Gardener could, in fact, transform living material.

The sun was starting to set by the time Phinks left. The drive back from the home would be a long one, after all.

And he knew he'd be thinking about you the entire time.

You had remained quiet for the rest of his visit, refusing to respond to either him or Chrollo with anything more than a soft grunt. You wouldn't look at either of them from that point onward, instead choosing to keep your head down and your gaze on your lap.

The dead look in your eyes Phinks had witnessed when he had first arrived was back, and the second time around, there was nothing he could do to change that

.It was only when he left that you looked at him again.

As Chrollo walked him to the door, Phinks turned his head one last time and met your gaze from where you sat on the couch.

That pleading look was there again as you silently begged him to save you.

Once more, he didn't do anything like that, and this time Phinks didn't hang around long enough to see that look inevitably turned into anger.

At least you weren't angry with him all the time, he thought to himself after saying his goodbyes to Chrollo. He walked down the stairs towards his car with his hands in his pockets as he insisted to himself that it was something to be happy about. You still spoke to him whenever he came around, and sometimes you were able to laugh with him, just like you had when you were both kids.

And while it was depressing that the times where that happened were few, Phinks told himself that it was really your fault, all because of the way you had managed to be so different when compared to the rest of them and your stubborn refusal to listen to what Chrollo told you.

Based on the way you had acted today, it was still going to be a long way off until you were ready to be part of the Phantom Troupe. And Phinks couldn't help but let out a long sigh as he started up the engine and began to drive away.

As he pulled away from the house, it felt as though someone was watching him through one of the windows as he left, and Phinks chose to believe that it was you.

You wouldn't need to be away from him if you would just accept that you needed to change. Accept that your way of thinking was wrong, and then the two of you could be together like you were in the old days.

And then, maybe, things could go beyond that relationship you had once had, to something deeper than that.

But for now that was only a pipe dream. You weren't anywhere close to accepting their way of life, and so, you didn't need to know about that.

Just like you didn't need to know about Chrollo's experiment with your hatsu.

You didn't need to know that the night began with a room full of people and then ended with those people being turned into plants. You didn't need to know that writing down someone's name on the conjured seed packet was all your hatsu needed to change them, and you didn't need to know that the only survivor was a traumatized waitress who had only avoided painful death because she was filling in for someone else that night and therefore her name hadn't been included on the list Chrollo had snatched beforehand. You didn't need to know how much pain and destruction your hatsu had caused.

Because if you found all of that out too early before you were prepared for it, it would break you.

That wasn't what the troupe wanted – they just wanted you to be like them. To be their ally once again. Nothing would ever bring them back to the way things were before Sarasa's murder, but if you could be by their side – by his side – again, that would be good enough.

The thought of Sarasa's death coincided with a glance towards the side of the road, and Phinks caught sight of the dense line of trees that made up the edges of a forest.

An unpleasant memory came to surface. One of a bag that was hanging from a tall tree branch.

Phinks squeezed his eyes shut, willing the memory away before turning his attention to the road. He didn't need to think about that.

So his thoughts returned to you.

The way your hands had felt against his skin.

And that memory of your first meeting that played in his mind once more.

“Fine. You asked for it.”

And then he gritted his teeth as he prepared to bring the bat down on your head. As you sensed the impending violence, you clenched your eyes shut as you braced yourself.

But even then, you refused to let go.

Seconds passed.

Nothing happened.

Then the seconds turned into longer moments of nothing happening, with Phinks' bat still raised overhead and you still awaiting the impact of the wood upon your skull.

Why couldn't he do it?

Phinks' brows furrowed as he stared down at you, the resolve to punish you for grabbing him like you were wavering. Why? If anyone else had been doing this to him, he'd have already beaten them up. Why was he having such a hard time with the thought of hurting you?

It probably wouldn't take that much to make you back down – one well-placed hit to your skull would knock you out cold, and you'd go tumbling down to the ground. Hell, with how frail and starved you looked, he could easily see you dying from the blow.

The thought didn't bother him, Phinks told himself. The weaker ones in Meteor City die all the time; you just weren't meant to survive long in this world.

That was your problem, not his.

But instead of bringing the bat down and putting you out of your misery, he stood there while his arm began to grow tired from the awkward position.

The entire time, your grip didn't relent even once.

You weren't going to let go unless he made you.

The light of the setting sun spurred him to make a decision – it would be dark soon, and it was never a good idea to be out at night in Meteor City.

“….. Fine.”

You opened your eyes when you heard him say that, looking up at him curiously as he continued “but I'll bet that you'll regret it, especially when you get a taste of Feitan's terrible cooking.”

Phinks refused to offer any explanation after that as he turned and began to walk back home. You followed behind with some difficulty, your shorter legs unable to keep up with him without jogging after. Still, you managed, and your grip on him remained strong.

After a few minutes of walking, you spoke to him for the first time.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Shut up.”

The memory of that first meeting was bittersweet – Phinks hated himself for the way he had treated you, that there had ever been a moment where he seriously considered hurting you. It was something that made him want to yell at his younger self for threatening you like that when you were desperate, alone and scared.

But he thought of the way you had looked at him, silently pleading for help as you held onto him tightly, and how the feeling of being needed somehow felt right. Even though he had agreed with Feitan not to take in anyone who was weak, and yet Phinks had caved for you. Someone who was so fragile and had needed protecting.

Don't you still need protecting?

The thought of the way you had looked at him gave him pause. You looked even more miserable than you had that very first time he met you. Every time he saw you, you only looked more and more depressed, as your will was slowly but surely being chipped away by Chrollo.

How could that be a good thing?

……. Because Chrollo says it is.

The turbulent feelings within Phinks were pushed down yet again as he continued his drive back, the setting sun causing the sky to grow darker and making it harder to see the outline of the tree branches he sped by. Things would be made right by Chrollo's hand, and then they could go back to the way it had been, with you by the side of the troupe where you were supposed to be.

Phinks allowed his mind to drift again as he continued on his journey, but this time his thoughts went to the happier memories in Meteor City. Like the way you would greet him when he came back to that little home, or the late nights spent talking with Feitan, or the way the two of you practiced cooking together as you tried your best to make something that was edible. Things were rough in the early days, but even when things ended in disaster, you still found some reason to smile at him.

He would have that again. He was sure of it.

All Phinks needed to do was wait.

[angelesca]

w.c. ~6.5k me? GONGAGA | (assasin) blade x gn!reader | warning for mild yandere, vague descriptions of injuries, red string of fate, everyone ships you and blade (guardian angel? more like boyfriend), reader fights for their life, xianzhou cast and stellaron hunters being stupid, silly as usual, skott is your (ex)fiance LUL💔exploring blade's past (some character study), reader implied to be yingxing's past lover reincarnated, a sidedish (whole lot) of angst, implied memory loss from mara

footnotes are included at the end of the post, including Chinese myths and proverbs :)

a/n: ignore the fact that the hair and eye is flipped😀and me using proper grammer? insane. happy 100+ followers!!! congrats again to blade for winning the poll, still the man of our dreams huhu BLADE SMOOCHERS LESGOOOOOO!!!

inspired by [touch within the abyss] (ILOVETHISMANGA SOMCUH), listening to [heavens official's blessing's] soundtrack while writing and editing was AMAZING omgg, and blade using butter knives as weapons was def taken from [black butler] lol

https://redstringservices.xzhou/homepage/requests/999

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Leave your request below. Reviews are uneccessary as all jobs are guaranteed to be well within the responder's capabilities.

Scrooooooll.

User 'Lacking_in_everything_but_muscles_General' has requested: Oho? A potential challenger to test the results of my training? Come, fight me! ↳ User 'XxEradicator_Of_Dust360xX' replied: Please stop using Jiaoqiu as a barbell. User 'grandpa!stop_doting_on_me' has requested: Uncle, can you find a pink-haired girl for me? She's skipping her training again... (；⌣̀_⌣́) Oh, leave her alive too, please. ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ User 'Mr.ColdFeet' has left a review: Dearest customer, thank you for ordering the '10x "Belobogian-sourced" strawberry milk drink!! Here, I'll leave you a good review as token of my appreciation~ [Deleted by moderator] User 'HealerLadyIsTheBest1': Hey, how is this website legal?😡Cease your business at once, I'm getting too many patients! User 'mostsanestbladefan' has requested: rerun when💔 ↳ Mod 'SW#GU2055#addme' replied: lmao

... Seems trustworthy enough. Although, why is everyone talking as if this was a hiring for a hitman? Wasn't this a fortune teller who can alter red string fates? Bah, whatever. This may be your last chance of escape, and you are desperate.

You press the request button and start typing:

Guest_User#1002 has requested: Hello, may I ask to book a session for me and my insufferable-loser-of-a-fiance?

Ping! A reply already? A private chat has been created. You click on it.

Mod 'SW_was_here(^_−)☆' replied: Your full name.

You type it out.

Mod 'SW_was_here(^_−)☆' is typing...

...

...

They completely stop. "Huh?"

Mod 'SW_was_here(^_−)☆' is typing...

Mod 'SW_was_here(^_−)☆' is typing...

...

Mod 'SW_was_here(^_−)☆' replied: Sorry.

“Haha! I like to bully my subordinates, haha! Oink, oink– o–oops, f–force of habit,” Skott, yes, Lyndon Skott, your “insufferable-loser-of-a-fiance” wipes his mouth as if hoping to erase his words. If only it was possible to erase his entire existence too. “Anyways, fetch me my dog feed."

Out of all people, Skott is the worst possible candidate known to man. Stomach and back pains, cramps, coughs, sneezing. Every side effect ailed you anytime he did anything, as if you were an illness and the universe was trying to cough you out of its immune system.

“Here,” you say detachedly, handing it over.

Skott does a double-take. “This is... a ray gun? Where did you even get this?”

Oops. That was supposed to your last resort. “I think we're out, Skott. Your eating habits cost too much, even a dog doesn't eat twenty packs everyday.”

Skott suddenly stands up, hands on hips. “Why, you seem so tired,” Duh. “Well, it's nothing that I, Skott, the best possible candidate known to man, can't solve,” he pushes his lips together, leaning towards you. “C'mere... kissy kiss–”

You pinch his cheek before he could do anything. Skott whimpers pathetically. “I'm gonna go out and buy some dinner,” you grumble, immediately walking off.

“O–o-oink!”

Your phone blinks at you. You groan. Why did they ghost you? What's wrong with your name?

“Might as well buy more dog food too...” you mumble sourly, heading off to your usual supplier around the corner.

The store owner enthusiastically greets you, rubbing their hands together. “My, my, how lovely to see you again, my dear. Here to buy more food for your chihuahua? Haha, he sure does eat a lot for a small breed dog!”

You force a crooked smile, feeling crazy for having to lie about your fiance being a dog. “Yep... I'm here again... sadly.”

“Your chihuahua prefers wet food, right? Why don't you take a look at this new product? The texture of the loaf is incredibly soft—perfect for their jaws—which makes for easy consumption. High-quality lean meats mixed with fats, an ideal diet for a high-energy dog.”

Skott being as insane as he is would eat anything. “I'll try this one out.”

“Amazing!” The store owner beams, grinning. “Your boyfriend seems to agree too!”

“Boyfriend?” Did Skott follow you? No way. Skott doesn't walk; he marches to announce his presence with pride—there's no way you didn't hear his obnoxiously loud footsteps.

Ping! A chill runs down your back.

Mod 'SW_was_here(^_−)☆' replied: Behind you.

“AAAH!!” A sching! flies past your ears, a clear sound shot straight, streamlined, like a bullet. You dodge the sword aiming for your head, lodged in the wall against your back, dog food in hand. 

The pathway you escaped along reclined into the shadows the further you ran, a detached wing from the body of Aurum Alley. An abandoned passage. Yet, two pairs of footsteps treaded the ground—one too many.

“W-who are you? I’ve done nothing wrong! I make sure to eat all my veggies- OH!” you swivel in time to miss the sharp object that would’ve hit your ankle. You look down. “A butter knife?!”

“Why are you running from me?” the voice calls out.

“Why are you trying to kill me?!” you shout back. 

A pair of crimson eyes unravel behind the curtain of shadows. Highlighted with a target on your head, the spotlight shines on you, casted as the main character by this stranger.

They approach, way too close for your liking. A daunting waft of smoke and metal haunts the life out of the air, making it almost hard to breathe. Moonlight descends his hair, a silk ladder, ropes of dark strands rolling over his shoulders.

Stuck in a limbo with no escape. Great. “... Anything but the dog food... Skott throws a fit when he doesn't get his daily fix,” you mumble, pushing yourself onto the wall as far as you can, hoping to blend into it.

A smirk on his lips. A phone is suddenly shoved in your face. You groan at the brightness, cutting your vision into a thin strip of magnifying glass as you squint.

Mod 'SW_was_here(^_−)☆': Is this the target?

There's picture of you leaving the house.

Guest_User#1001 replied: Yes! Get'em already!!💥

“Me?” You cannot believe your eyes. “Someone requested a hit on me?”

Guest_User#1001: Teehee

You’ve tried everything to escape. Firstly, you ran around the neighbourhood like a headless chicken, yet his legs easily erased the distance, tormenting your back with his glare.

Attempted bribing with berrypheasant skewers? Failed. Songlotus cake? Nope. Steamed puffergoat milk? His eyes flicked to it for a moment. Almost. 

And throughout everything, all you heard was an onslaught of hmphs and grunts rolling boulders over you, crushing your dignity in mocking. Save for the one instance he muttered his name to you, Blade.

Qingque, your fellow co-slacker worker, points a finger behind you, her face puckered. “Who the hell is that?”

“Don’t mind him,” you groan. Surroundings swirl, doused in a liquor poured by the hand of your exhausted mind. “He’s just my assassin.”

“How are you saying that so casually??”

Blade is glued to your side even at your workplace, the Divination Commision. But you are more angry that nobody is mentioning why this very obvious outsider, who isn't even dressed in uniform and is holding a sword, is following you.

“Hey,” You walk up to a random colleague. “Does this guy not look crazy dangerous?” You point behind you.

“Hm?” They blink. “I thought he was your significant other?” ??? Everyone must be tricked by his beauty!

It's worse that Blade only scoffs, giving no closed answer to their question.

At your desk, Blade is judging you when you quickly switch your monitor off your Celestial Jade game when Fu Xuan enters. In the break room, where there's even less people around, he's shaving butter knives with his sword into weapons of mass destruction as you drink your tea.

Most ridiculously, anytime Qingque—or anyone—does as much as tap your shoulder, Blade brandishes his sword at them. Mumbling and grumbling something about, “they're mine, not yours(?)”

“Ohoho~ what a handsome boyfriend you have!"

“Jiaoqiu, you're facing the wrong way—we're behind you.”

Jiaoqiu, your local coriander supplier—and you, his coriander dumpster—slowly turns around, smiling, as if garbage sludged out of your mouth.

Sensing dread root in your guts, a cold sweat running its tap, you turn to Blade– “HOLY–” You dodge his sword in the nick of time. Blade clicks his tongue, drawing his eyebrows together. Tch. “Did you see that?! He tried to–”

“Ah, how kind of you.” You snap back to Jiaoqiu who is patting his chopping board.

Dumbfounded, you trace the sword that landed squarely on the chopping board, having sliced a once-large-pile of coriander finely. A precision awarded to well-trained chefs who specialise in food and not cutting people up.

“Wow, what a handsome and capable boyfriend. Just like a guardian angel. Ha. Ha.” Jiaoqiu nods in approval.

“You can't even see him.”

“Oh, right.”

You came home with twice the normal haul of coriander, gifted to Blade, who didn't need "such useless sentiments", and stuffed it into your bag. You threw some extra into Skott's dog food.

Moonlight uncovers two figures standing on the rooftops, watching.

“General, is that…” A voice trails off.

“Yes, there's no mistaking him.” Another voice.

“Join me, Yingxing. B◼◼◼◼n◼... she may still live this way. And you... you need to save them too, do you not?”

Yingxing, the name was spat, drawled, torn through teeth, pulverizing the skeletons of each letter, leaving its corpse that would not survive to become a living legend. 

Before his downfall, Yingxing was an exemplary but arrogant blacksmith under Huaiyan, and a member of the legendary High-Cloud Quintet. Drinking partners with D◼◼ ◼e◼◼, sparred with J◼◼◼l◼◼, smiled with B◼◼◼◼n◼, grew with Jing Yuan, who would bust his ears about there being one-thousand-three-hundred-and-fourteen gingko trees to ever live on the Xianzhou Luofu.

And finally, Yingxing was the lover of a free-spirit who walked the path of the Trailblaze. A love he was willing to risk for, because he could not afford to lose again after the devastation of his homeland.

Blade woke up, breathing away the vice around his neck, fingers opening and closing. Reaching for someone who was not there, a phantom. But they were his. They belonged to him. It's all he has, and he won't let go.

You decide to go to an actual fortune teller, explaining all the events until now.

Although they are masked with a hood, obscured in secretive shadows, the candle on the velvet-robed table carves out the frown on their face. “This sounds like a couple's bickering. And I do not want to be treated as a couple's therapist.”

“Why does everyone say that?! He's far removed from being my lover!” You could cough up blood.

“Then what's he doing here?”

“Who?”

Ping!

Mod 'SW_was_here(^_−)☆': Behind you.

Surely not– “AAAH!” you shout, almost having a heart attack. Sure enough, Blade is standing behind you, arms crossed.

“Stop running,” he demands.

“So you can kill me? Nu-uh,” you taunt.

The fortune teller clears their throat. "If you want me to trace your red string, I can do so," they direct the conversation. "Red strings of fate are divined by Yue Lao¹, and are hard to alter as it moulds one's fate."

“So, what does it look like?” You hold up your pinky.

The fortune teller is silent for a moment, rubbing their forefinger against their thumb, testing the unsteady fabric that weaves the air. The both of you are dressed under a skirt of silence until they stop entirely. Tension frays its string, ready to snap.

They share a glance between you and the person looming behind. A long sigh in front of you. A small chuckle behind you. “You really are sure he's not your boyfriend?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” You look at Blade. He looks back. You stare. He turns his face away.

Couples event! Lovebirds get a whopping 50% discount off our menu!

A brilliant idea pops in your head. “Blade, I know we're not on the best terms but– AH?!” You dodge a butter knife. The blade lands by the feet of a young woman, with orange hair tied into a ponytail, who almost collided into you with her tripod.

Blade already knows from the shine in your eyes. “Ridiculous.”

Bring your plus one to our story-telling theatre! Pay the price of one ticket for the value of two!

“How about this one?”

“Absurd.” Blade pulls you away, your feet dragging along. A short, green hair girl had barely missed setting you on fire with her tail.

Buy one-get-one-free steamed puffergoat milk for lovers! Come as two, and leave satisfied as two!

You hand the free cup of steamed puffergoat milk to Blade. "You're a fan of this, huh?"

Hmph. He takes it, face turned away. You think it's the trick of the lanterns, but a dust of red seems to colour Blade's ears.

This will be my breakthrough, Yanqing thought excitedly, General will certainly rely on me more if I catch this sneaky man!

“Boo!”

“AAAH! Y-Yunli?”

Yunli latches onto Yanqing's shoulders, who is hiding behind a wall, observing you and Blade who are sitting at a table outside a restaurant. Blade refills your teacup without you noticing. “Whatchu hiding?”

“Nothing,” Yanqing brushes Yunli off like dust. “Just on a mission.”

Yunli hums, stifling a smile. “Hmm... I'll watch your back then.”

Yanqing nods, straightening his back, and marching towards the table like a soldier. Yunli will be entertained by this for centuries, and will be rolling in her grave thinking about it.

A cough for attention. You slowly look up, meeting a blonde boy in blue clothes.

“Jing Yuan's kid…” A flash of recognition in Blade's eyes. “Did he order you? How bothersome.”

“Of my own accord, I came to arrest you”—Blade stuffs a piece of youtiao in Yanqing's mouth, a spoonful of congee to chase, and a bite of tofu pudding to finish—“Mm, good food.”

“You need to grow taller," Blade says. "Tch. What's Jing Yuan doing with you?”

“Excuse you,” Yanqing says, offended, taking a seat at the table.

“Should I order more?” you ask, confused. Was Blade always good with kids? It's kinda cute.

Behind the wall, Yunli rubs her temple. “Yanqing... were you that hungry to forget your mission?”

“I have to go, Yingxing. The Express is calling my name.”

“Ridiculous. Just stay here, you don't need them. Is there an imperative rule demanding you to board?”

A shake of their head. “Our lives are drastically different,” the voice choked out, “you have a past here with fond memories and companions. You belong in Xianzhou Luofu. But me, I have yet to lay my home.”

He scoffs. “You mean to say that you do not love me as much as you thought?”

“I love you most to search you out before anyone else. And I have loved you too much by entering your world when I shouldn't, knowing that this would happen.”

“Why are you leaving only now, when I have even fewer years to live? Will you not allow me to spend my last dregs of life with you?” Or does he have to force them himself?

“... I do not want to see you draw your last breath,” an inhale. “You would understand too, if you were also a long-lived species. Having to watch loved ones lose to time again and again, it never gets easier.”

How ridiculous, Blade thought, blinking away sleep as he stands guard outside your house, that he would end up in their exact situation.

Since the visit to the fortune teller, Blade's assassination attempts have been null. A change of heart? How charismatic you are. But then why is he still carrying your bags and listening to your rambles? And why is he swatting away people who get too close to you?

You can't bring yourself to ask him so you keep walking ahead, doing random things with your arms to distract yourself. Isn't this like... having a boyfriend? You slap your face.

Blade watches your back, tracing the flex of your body when you stretch, the snippet of your smile when you turn your head to the side, you looking back to check if he is still here.

Blade rarely demonstrates himself with his face. But if he were to release the tense muscles that he forces to stiffen, you'd realise that he's been holding back a smile all along.

He watches you for a bit longer, letting the script unwind past. The future is cast in stone, but dripping water can penetrate the rock with enough time.²

...

...

... Click, click.

Heels click down a corridor, purple hair tousled over her shoulder. She stops in front of double doors. Darkness throws its hunter's net, trapping, a natural selection in place to filter in only those who live to survive.

“Hmm, I see,” the woman echoes. “Yes, in Xianzhou currently.”

“Change of plans? Bladie would... Blade stays true to his name—there's no one he can't cut down.”

“I understand.” A small chuckle. “My regards, dearest Elio.”

“You again?” Blade grumbles, offering Yanqing no more than a short glance. He lends a levitating hand just behind your back as you walk up the hill. “What? Hungry?”

Yanqing points at Blade. “I'm here to arrest you!”

“For what?” you ask, looking back. You notice something quickly retracts, but everything looks pretty normal. Perhaps it was just a bug flying.

Yanqing throws his hands in the air. “He's an assassin!”

“Oh, I forgot about that.” You suddenly have a hard time looking at Blade. In your defense, he's been pretty nice lately. But catching him staring at you? You'll have to get used to that.

Just behind a tree, two people huddle together, cautiously sneaking glances.

“Firefly, why is he smiling like that behind their back? What's with that disgustingly sweet look??”

“I have no idea Silverwolf... isn't that what lovers do?”

Silverwolf tilts her head, tapping absentmindedly on her phone. “Blade... I haven't seen him like that.” She observes the smile peeking on Blade's face, hiding from sight as he stands behind you. As always. “We're supposed to help him with this mission as per Kafka's command, but…”

Firefly, with her gaze, draws along Silverwolf's line of vision, studying. “He must be happy here,” she says. “Oh, I'll miss his driving…”

“Who's a good boy~” you coo, scratching a stray puppy's head. The puppy closes its eyes, tongue wagging.

Blade crouches near you, watching you shower the puppy with affection, completely forgetting him. The dog looks at him, tilting its head. Hmph. “Annoying.”

“Why is that your first word of the day?!”

You see a sliver of a smile as Blade casts his gaze down.

Picking the puppy up, you hand it to Blade who awkwardly holds it in the air. You laugh. “Wouldn't it be so cute if this puppy stayed like this forever?” you say to no one in particular.

Blade pauses, hair slightly dancing in the wind, crested in golden gingko leaves. He finally says, “An eternity is of the same weave as an abyss, to never see an end. Yet, if all lived forever...”

Blade looks up at the gingko canopy, wistful, stern. But he looks at you with a soft crease in his eyes, lifted ever so slightly by the cheeks.

"I... would not mind it."

You hum, studying his face. Trying to distract the heat caressing your cheeks by thinking a million thoughts.

“But this puppy has so much to explore,” you say, taking the puppy into your lap. “Being stuck in one place for so long, the steps we take will always loop back.” You brush the gingko leaves off Blade's hair.

“If I stayed in the same spot with that insufferable-loser-of-a-fiance, and never messaged you, well, we wouldn't have met, right?”

A beat in his chest. Savoured as it ripples through his body. Alive. Blade closes his eyes, feeling the breeze run its hand through his hair, the pulse in your fingers. You were alive too. Opens his eyes.

“... Ridiculous,” he simply replies.

Shuhu's flesh. It writhed, beating its last breath in Yingxing's hand. His other hand drew along a cold arm. One he has touched many times when it was warmer. A mortal separated from their immortal lover, a retelling of Hou Yi and Chang'e.³

A love he was willing to risk for, because he could not afford to lose again, he renewed that vow. A burst of pain, a golden disease invading. A bloodlust riveted.

I hope that in your next life, you will never wish for freedom again.

May fate bind us with its thread and suffocate us until we have to share our breaths through parted mouths, mistake whose hands are whose, and dig our fingers into each other's backs, melting into flesh, draw blood to malnourish the body of weight, just to fit into each other's arms. Because even if I torment your dreams, crush your future, or tangle your tongue until you can't speak, at least, that way, you always have to think of me. 

Hate eventually bleeds into obsession, and obsession will consume your every thought until you can't move. In that case, detest with all your heart, blacken me in your mind, and bite my hand when I try to feed; it will only make me love you more.

Stay where I can see you, or be chained to me forcefully... I will not lose you again.

...

...

...

When he awoke again, his body was pierced many times over.

"Remember the feeling of death," Her hair skimmed the moon's surface, an arc of the sword that glimmered silver, as if cycling through the lunar phases in a swift strike, and bloodred eyes. "And bring it to them."

Wounds mended and healed, tightened and closed. His new body is a seamster that weaves the fabric of his skin to fit his flesh again, a blacksmith that hammers out the steel and reforges it into a blade once more.

He does not come back to life—the joy of creation long forgotten in the face of death that has strangled everything else—a dead man walking. Laid his body on a bed of red spider lilies, the petals weeping on his clothes—or, was it a pool of blood? Doesn't matter.

The mara worked strangely on him—memories seldom passed by in his mind. Yet, this person crossed that boundary, weaved inside his head.

A face drifted along the tides of his mind, drowning and resurfacing every few seconds as he tried to fish the fragments. The scales shine, a bright smile, the tails flap, his hand weaved into another, the fins slither, laughter. Like carps, persevering past the strong waves of his mara.

He must've loved them so strongly to the point that it brewed hatred. A desire to blind them with his affection, and then mangle their limbs, so that the last thing they would ever feel was his selfish love.

Blade took you home as you sleeped in his carry, eyeing Skott intensely and scaring the man to make way. He draped you on your bed. It was too long since he's seen you so peaceful and... Blade stopped his fingers from feathering the rim of your lips.

Why couldn't he keep you here? Be chained to him, just stay here, you don't need anyone else. Crush you until you rely on him. This is where you're meant to be, right next to him.

His head lowered for a moment before he got up.

His words to Skott: "You're dead the moment you disturb them," Blade warned as he approached the cowering man. "Or, should I dispose of you here after what you put them through?"

Skott never returned home since, presumably ran away.

Blade went out and walked along Central Starskiff Haven. A simple thing caught his eye—a bobbin of blue string. And then—

"May I have a word with you?" Blade recognised that voice: Jing Yuan

...

...

...

“It was the same then, and the same now; you are fixated on the past.”

Blade studies Jing Yuan. Studies the carp swimming in the water, looking down. “Just skip to what you want to say.” Blade had little patience for the man who knew about the price of sin, yet said nothing.

Jing Yuan shakes his head, leaning on the railing of the bridge, looking up. He will savour every second of this meeting, one he had waited too long for. “Life is finite, grains of sand that slip through fingers. Fragile—for a reason—we are not meant to last forever. Even for us long–lived species, the mara is a cap screwed tightly to stop us, poised to spiral our memories into oblivion.”

Blade could almost laugh. This person before him, who used to reach only his shoulders, now was teaching him.

“Do you think it was only you who suffered all this time?” Jing Yuan frowns, frustrated. His shoulders shake. “We were separated. But the bonds we created last beyond a meeting. And I have have kept our companions in my heart. This way, they are always with me.”

“Fate may be predestined, but when the heart is moved, it becomes unforgettable.⁴”

Fate does not pity. Cruel yet kind at times, it does not know of its own recklessness, which must be why fate executes its job so easily. It feels no empathy.

But, it's exactly this reason why fate can never touch human connections. It does not understand the heart, therefore, what humans use it for are ultimately decisions that they make themselves. Fate is all-seeing, but not all-knowing.

“Hah…” Blade exhales. Words he didn't want from Jing Yuan, but needed to hear.

“And—” Jing Yuan winces, clutching his forehead. His eyes are watery, having recalled something yet lost it at the same time. A small silence. “Apologies, they say... that you are nearing the brink of death when memories start flashing at you, for the last time. Must be true... haha.”

Blade is wordless, fingers digging into palm. “Don't spout nonsense. Save your breath.”

Jing Yuan laughs, knowing that this is Blade's way of caring, the same as he used to, before saying, “I see all five of us. Underneath the gingko trees, where we met…”

Gingko trees... those words stood out. Jing Yuan would always... “Gingko trees... how many are there?” Blade asks, looking at Jing Yuan.

Jing Yuan's eyes are open in surprise, unexpecting the question. His mouth moves but does not mutter, on the edge of words, before saying with that lazy grin of his, “How would I know the answer to that?”

Blade walks along the rainy path to your home. Along the gingko trees, past the river flowing carps along, to a door that is open, ready to welcome. But before he could, he felt a presence. “Kafka.”

“Bladie, Elio's a tad bit disappointed,” Kafka steps out of the shadows, holding a black umbrella. “You were talking to General Jing Yuan. But what does he know?”

Blade lets the rain devour her voice. Kafka walks towards him, still wearing her smile. It is often that Blade cannot read her concealed expression. She fondles with something behind her back.

Blade's limbs are speared in place. Spirit Whisper. He steps back—

“Listen to me. I will say the words you truly want to hear.”

“Your desires, why have you been suppressing their demands? Who are you trying to protect them from? They won't live long this time, so make the most of it. Take it all. This is your part of the script.”

Crush. Chain. Claim. The words inject its needle into Blade, piercing skin. Relieving. It feels like a cure, a medicine, his treatment. This is what he needs. The mara suddenly blooms its branches, ripping into his head, splintering it with an agonising pain. Clouds gather its dark feathers, pluming over Xianzhou with its wing-like embrace.

“Sorry, Bladie. I must do this. They were supposed to be dead long ago,” she says these final words, passing him with a smile, sad eyes, before turning into nothing more than another percussive instrument in the orchestra of rain.

...

...

...

Ping! ...

User 'Blade' is typing...

User 'Blade' is typing...

...

User 'Blade': You are mine.

You woke up to darkness placing its blindfold over you, sat on cold ground. Sweat trickles down your neck that bobs up and down, trying to breathe—to live. A musk repeating smoke and metal.

Taking another deep breath, you try to stand up but are immediately dissuaded by the nagging on your wrist, chained. The blindfold slips from the jolt.

“You're trying to escape me again.”

Suddenly, you are pulled into an embrace from behind, your back pressed on a chest. He is cold against your engulfed body—ice against fire. Designed by nature to sabotage one another, destined never to find each other. Caused by a sinner's karmic debt. “Blade, y-your arms...”

Small gingko branches perforate through his skin, the leaves thrumming to his slow breath. Red pearls roll down his arms, as if unhitched from a broken necklace. You notice the deep lacerations that dig past even further than where the branches grew from, as if someone has been trying to gouge them out.

Blade watches you, muttering as little words as possible to save breath, “It'll heal.”

You trace his arm with your finger. The wounds are caught in ebb and flow, between the stricken trauma and the regenerative tissues. Gradually, the bloody gap bridges his flesh together, an infrastructure built and painted over with his skin. “What...?” Your hand retracts but Blade catches it.

“Leaving me again?”

You search for his face, aching. Dark eye circles hung low, Blade is exhausted and just as afraid of what he's become. His hands glides along your arms, landing just above the back of your hands, before lacing his fingers into the crooks. He didn't want to hurt you, and you feel that fragility through the press of his lips on your neck.

“I won't,” you reassure, letting his weight stamp onto you.

His shoulders squeeze in, appearing smaller. As if trying to merge with you so that he may live inside. Know you inside out. Claim. His hand tighten around yours, subduing his desires.

Blade shakes his head, lips dragged down by the weight of the torrent he is trying to suppress inside him. He traces Kafka's words. “I abhor you…”

“You're lying... because eventually you will.”

“What makes you say that?”

“This is the price I pay,” he mutters, “I have willed life into an impossible existence, and I must witness how that very life ends.”

The law of equivalent exchange; to obtain what you so desire, an equal value must be given in return. And life and death always follow each other as equals.

Words disintegrate, melting on the tongue, as fragile as snow falling on skin. You replay the frown on Blade's face, his twitching eyebrows. An animation, flicking its pages in your mind, and your heart leaves it to loop over, and over. You lower your head, hesitant. You didn't understand what he was saying. But it feels like he's talking to you.

He is stood at the edge of the cliff, and you are the last push. But you didn't want him to let go yet.

“Then, it's our fault for choosing each other. Bound not by fate, but by choice, and by heart. And if we don't have much time, then let's use every second of it.”

Blade hears Jing Yuan's words in them. He also hears someone else's words. A final flash of another memory. And then, he repeats your voice that said the words. It comforts him, resting the pain to sleep. The gingko leaves fall, ripened. Maybe it were these words he was waiting for all along—to let him know that he can belong next to you after his sin.

There is no use dwelling on the past. He who blames others has a long way to go on his journey; he who blames himself is halfway there; he who blames no one has arrived.⁵ When moments can be spent with you now, the present becomes hopeful.

Kafka's shackles fade. Spring will come again.

Blade unchains the cuff on your wrist, soothing the red marks with his kisses. He fetches something from his pockets—a bobbin of blue string. Softly takes your pinky, intertwined with his, and he begins wrapping the thread around them. You watch him quietly, heart pounding. The knot is tied.

“Let me keep you for a little longer,” Blade whispers, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I'll let you go after this, I promise.” To sever the string.

You mould into him, and the seamster sewed your stitch into the embroidery, the blacksmith modelled the sword in your shape.

Guest_User#1001: I am expecting good results.

Blade sighed, throwing his phone on the bed. That name they gave, it looked familiar. Nevertheless, he had a job to do.

Guest_User#1002 has requested: Hello, may I ask to book a session for me and my insufferable-loser-of-a-fiance?

... What a coincidence. Blade scoffed.

Tracing your location, he found your home. The first time he saw you, he recognised instantly, and memories began flashing.

“Why are you running from me?”

“Why do you have a sword?!”

“Jiaoqiu, you're facing the wrong way—we're behind you.”

“You really are sure he's not your boyfriend?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Tch. What's Jing Yuan doing with you?”

“Excuse you,”

“If I stayed in the same spot with that insufferable-loser-of-a-fiance, and never messaged you, well, we wouldn't have met, right?”

“Life is finite, grains of sand that slip through fingers. Fragile - for a reason—we are not meant to last forever.”

“Your desires, why have you been suppressing their demands? Who are you trying to protect them from?”

“I will lock you here for eternity. I will never let you go.”

No, these weren't memories. This was a slither of the future that Elio granted him. The original ending that was supposed to fit Blade.

But Blade had changed the end. He had changed fate with you, by his own choice.

...

Ping!

User 'Blade': In front of you.

You look up from your phone, grinning. Blade smiles at you, walking over. You trace the bandage around his arms, where the mara sprouted. "How is it?"

"I'm fine," he replies, "this will not dull my mastery with a sword. Come." He links his pinky with yours. There is no time to waste.

Aurum Alley blossoms with gingko leaves, vessels for auspicious happiness. Qingque waves at you, having reserved a large table by a restaurant. The signature aroma of Jiaoqiu's spices whet the appetite, Moze swiping the dishes away from Feixiao, Jing Yuan leaning his chin on his palm, dozing, and Yanqing and Yunli playing around Blade. Silverwolf and Firefly said their goodbyes.

“Good thing Master Fu Xuan is in a meeting,” Qingque fills your teacup. “And if she questions me, I can just use General Jing Yua–”

"Qingque," Anyone can recognise that voice. “Jing Yuan, you too... and,” She looks at you. You gulp. “You level one-hundred slacker-offs!”

“Lady Fu~ come join us.” Jing Yuan pats a seat.

However, Fu Xuan, with scrunched eyebrows, suddenly grabs your wrist, scruntinising the pinky. As if it's missing something. She looks at Blade, unsettled. “Your string... it's been…” Blade looks at her, quiet. Fu Xuan then shakes her head, giving a sad smile. “So that's your choice. I'm not a couple's therapist, but... I wish good luck to the both of you.”

You are left confused, but Fu Xuan would glare at you if you pushed it further. “He'll tell you one day,” she said.

After the chaotic meal, you all parted ways. A sea of stars reflect the fishes worming under the translucent skin of the river bank, a mirror. Thoughts race in your head, thinking of everything that happened. You rub your pinky.

The red string of fate, a myth that weaves couples together. But you never needed it anyways. Not a red one, at least.

“Blade,” you begin, turning around.

“You were protecting me all along, weren't you?”

Blade looks at you, lending his ears.

“That time when you dragged me away from the orange-haired lady who was about to collide into me, same with the girl with the fiery tail that could've killed me.

When we were climbing that hill with Yanqing, I swear you had your hand behind me. It was to catch my fall, wasn't it?

And that time where you were injured—the mara, it's called—it felt like you were holding yourself back.”

Blade smirks. “You've been watching me?”

You smile. “You're like my guardian angel.”

In those few words, Blade witnesses the last flash of memories.

He remembered. And Blade knew then, that Yingxing was trying to move on. Traces of him were left—Yingxing's intense desires—but ultimately, everything was Blade's choice.

The past would stop haunting him. He is Blade, just as you are you. Not photographed to a fleeting memory, but living in a present time. Left with a body to fill with new memories, he now looks to the future.

A dull ache tugs in his chest, a pain so suffocating. His arms wrap around you.

Watching you laugh, cry, be angry, to keep you safe so that you can grow old, and he will love every second of you. Until you draw that last breath, and then preserved in his mind, so you may live on forever this way—immortal in his memories, until the mara grants him finality.

https://redstringservices.xzhou/homepage/requests/999

This site is closed for an indefinite period. Go away.

User 'Lacking_in_everything_but_muscles_General' has requested: Does anyone know where the person managing the website went? They haven't offered me a duel yet :( ↳ User 'HealerLadyIsTheBest1' replied: Good riddance! ↳ User 'Spice-and-Rice-is-Life!xox' replied: Feixiao, if you don't stop adding coriander to my broth, you will end up in the next meal I cook!!! User 'v1ral_m4ster_of_lif3-stre@ms': Oooh, a haunted website!! Let's make a video about this at Fyxestroll Garden, stat! @UserHuohuo @UserSushang @UserHanya @UserXueyi @UserYukong @UserLingsha @UserFugue @UserSunday @GalacticBaseballer111 @UserDanHeng ↳ UserDanHeng#1003 replied: Why am I here? ↳ UserLingsha#1004 replied: Why am I here? ↳ UserYukong#1005 replied: Why am I here? ↳ UserHanya#1007 replied: Why am I here...? (also asking on Xueyi's behalf) ↳ UserFugue#1008 replied: Haha, why not~ ↳ User 'GalacticBaseballer111' replied: Thanks for the invite! Still dead tho^^ ↳ UserSunday#1009 replied: ...? User 'grandpa!stop_doting_on_me' has requested: Uncle Blaaade, let's plaaaay huhu (╯︵╰,) ↳ User 'My_life_is_for_wielding_swords' replied: General Jing Yuan invited you to play starchess with us, wanna join? Invite March 7th too, we need to keep up her training! Guest_User#1001 left a review: WORST HITMAN EVEEEEER!!! YOU THREATENED ME AND TOOK MY PARTNEEER!!! User 'celstialjademylove10': Wait, that guy really was an assassin??? [Deleted by commenter] ↳ UserFuXuan#1010 replied: Qingque, slacking off are we? ↳ User 'celstialjademylove10' replied: ohshizzles [Deleted by commenter] Mod 'Let'sSetOurHeartsAblaze!': Farewell Blade, until we meet again~ Kafka (and me- and SW here😎) gives you two her regards! Mod 'SW#GU2055#addme': welp the story ends here ig. gg guys lets meet in the next story🤫

“Yingxing, do you know the myth of Yue Lao?”

“An old man who sits under the moon, tying the red string of fate for couples who are meant to find each other,” A melodic laugh, intertwining their pinky with his, wrapped in string. “But... even if Yue Lao did not destine for us to be together, as different as we are... a mortal and... a long-lived.” The knot tightened. A sad but knowing look. They continue,

“I believe it is much more powerful that we have loved each other of our own will, without the gods, deities, or aeons. A freedom and choice, entirely derived from our hearts. We love each other for who we are, not because it was meant to be. A love as natural as the carps along the river flow.”

“And with all the autonomy we had, untouched by divine power, I am so happy that you came back to me every time. As if tied by our very own red string—or, perhaps, our blue string.”

“Bound not by fate, but by choice, and by heart.”

... ౨ৎ

footnotes

Yue Lao - god of marriage and love in Chinese mythology, who appears to people as a old man under the moon. Carries the "red string of fate" to tie the destinies of couples who are meant to be together.

“Dripping water can penetrate the stone.” - proverb about how perseverance can help overcome obstacles.

Chang'e and Huo Yi - in Chinese mythology, Chang'e drank the immortality elixir, taken from her husband, the legendary archer Hou Yi. As a result, Chang'e was separated from her mortal lover, residing on the moon for eternity with her Jade Rabbit.

“Fate is predestined, but when the heart is moved, it’s unforgettable.” - proverb about how true connections that last beyond a fated meeting are what make the encounter unforgettable.

“He who blames others has a long way to go on his journey. He who blames himself is halfway there. He who blames no one has arrived.” - proverb about accepting the situation and moving past.

a/n: what if i wrote a time-skip epilogue so everyone can cry. what then. since blade is an older character, he has a lot of development. i tried my best to incorporate most of his story ^^ i teared up thinking abt the high cloud quintet, they were such a cute family before tragedy striked :( they were raising jing yuan, but jing yuan being the only one to have made it out made me even sadder :(( ALSO i apologise to any skott fans huhu. husband!skott but you're having an affair w blade forbidden love WATCH ME IM IM IMGON DO ITT!!!!1! im out of words now. i will now attempt to type the alphabet with my eyes closed. abcdefhjidkl,mnpqweribcxyd (i suck) thanks for reading!!🎀

[inseobts]

Hello! Idk if you done this before but could you do a imagine of either the strawhats or heart pirates (your choice) reacting to their newest crewmate die during a battle and then a minute later is up on their feet again cussing how much of a pain it is to deal with this shit. Basically has Deadpool inability to die just without his vulgar attitude and language and a lot less annoying, just seemly chill that they can just, come back to life after being shot? Definitely will give some people a heart attack. (Definitely has their bounty rise a lot after the marines find out they can’t die) plz and thank you!!!!

Surprise, I'm alive!

strawhat crew x gn ! strawhat ! reader (platonic)

words count: 1.7k

tags: platonic, strawhat reader, immortal reader, luffy tries to test your immortality

masterlist || ko-fi

The battle is chaos. Cannons boom, swords clash, and the air is thick with smoke and the smell of gunpowder. You don’t know exactly how it happens, but one moment, you’re blocking a sword swing, and the next, a bullet tears through your chest.

Your body hits the ground with a dull thud.

Silence.

Then, pure, unfiltered panic.

"Y/N!" Luffy’s scream cuts through the battlefield like a knife. His eyes widen in horror, and his usual carefree grin vanishes "Oi! Get up!"

Zoro, mid-swing against an enemy, falters as he sees your unmoving body "Damn it! They got Y/N!" His grip on his swords tightens "I should’ve been watching!"

"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" Usopp’s voice is shrill. He looks like he’s about to throw up "We—we need Chopper! Chopper!"

Sanji’s cigarette drops from his mouth as he turns sharply "Tch—those bastards." His expression darkens, and before anyone can stop him, he launches a devastating kick that sends one of the attackers flying "They’re dead. Every last one of them."

"Y/N!!" Nami’s eyes are wide with shock. She looks from your lifeless body to the enemy forces and then to Chopper, who is already rushing over, tears forming in his eyes.

"No! No, no, no! Hold on, Y/N!" Chopper skids to your side, his tiny hooves trembling as he checks for a pulse "They’re—THEY’RE NOT BREATHING!"

"No," Robin murmurs, brows furrowing "Not like this."

Franky’s hands clench into fists "That’s it! These jerks are SUPER dead!"

Brook, ever the gentleman, removes his hat solemnly "Ah…Y/N, my dear friend… You will be missed."

The crew collectively ignores him.

Luffy’s hands shake "This isn’t funny" he mutters. His knuckles turn white as he clenches his fists "They were my crew! They were—"

Then, right in the middle of their grief, in the middle of the battlefield, you groan.

"God, that hurt like hell."

The silence that follows is deafening.

You push yourself up, rubbing your chest where the bullet hole should be, but there’s nothing. Just a torn shirt and a lot of blood.

"Ugh, I hate dealing with this shit." You stand up, rolling your shoulders like you just woke up from a nap "That one stung."

Luffy’s jaw drops "HUUUUUUH?!"

Chopper looks like he’s about to pass out "B-B-But you were—you weren’t breathing! You were DEAD!"

"Yeah, about that," you say, dusting yourself off "I don’t really stay dead. Kind of a thing I have."

Nami looks like she’s questioning reality itself "Excuse me?!"

"You mean," Usopp wheezes, pointing at you like you’re some kind of horror story, "you just DIE and come back?! Like Brook??"

You nod "Not really... but pretty much."

Sanji, still mid-rampage, freezes "...You mean I just got worked up for nothing?"

"I mean, I appreciate the rage," you say with a grin "Nice to know you guys care."

Zoro stares at you for a long moment "You had us thinking you were gone, dumbass."

"Not my fault! I was shot! I wasn't expecting that!!"

"HOW ARE YOU EVEN ALIVE?!" Franky yells, gesturing wildly.

"Oh, I just don’t die."

"THAT IS NOT AN EXPLANATION!"

Luffy suddenly laughs, his earlier grief completely gone, replaced with awe "Shishishi! That’s so cool! Y/N, you’re like a zombie! But not a creepy one like Brook!"

"Hey!" Brook protests "That’s hurtful!"

Robin, ever the calm one, tilts her head "So you’ve had this ability this entire time?"

You shrug "Yeah, but I never really had to use it around you guys. You all are usually pretty good at keeping me from getting shot or anything deadly."

Chopper is still hyperventilating "I CAN’T HANDLE THIS KIND OF STRESS."

"Well, get used to it, buddy." You pat his tiny head "‘Cause something tells me the Marines are gonna be real interested in me once they find out."

Nami groans "Ugh. I can already hear our bounties going up."

"Not my fault!"

Zoro sighs "You’re a pain in the ass."

You grin "And yet, you’d miss me if I was really gone."

He clicks his tongue but doesn’t deny it.

Luffy laughs again and throws an arm around your shoulders "This is awesome! We’re unstoppable now! Let’s go kick some more ass!"

And just like that, the chaos resumes with the Strawhats now fully aware that their newest crewmate is literally impossible to kill.

The battle wraps up quickly after your "revival", mostly because the enemy forces are too busy freaking out about the supposedly dead person walking around like nothing happened. Some of them flat-out drop their weapons and run. Others just stand there, gaping in horror.

"D-Demon!" one of them shouts before bolting.

"Huh," you say, watching them flee "Didn’t expect that reaction."

Luffy grins "Shishishi! You scared ‘em good!"

Sanji lights another cigarette, shaking his head "I don’t blame them. If I saw a corpse cursing about how annoying it was to die, I’d run too."

Chopper is still clutching his chest, trying to breathe properly "I’m going to need so much tea after this."

Nami rubs her temples "You and me both, Chopper. You and me both."

Usopp finally stops hyperventilating long enough to poke you in the arm "Okay, but like… does it hurt? When you die?"

You nod "Oh yeah. It sucks. But I get over it."

Franky whistles "That is SUPER messed up."

Robin chuckles "It’s certainly rare. The government would definitely want to study you to know how to avtually kill you."

You groan "Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. If they find out, I’m probably getting a massive bounty."

Luffy’s eyes sparkle "That means we’re gonna be even more famous!"

Zoro crosses his arms "Not necessarily a good thing, Captain."

Before the conversation can continue, a loud explosion erupts from the distance. The remaining enemy ships have started retreating, but they’re firing cannons to cover their escape.

One of the cannonballs heads straight for you.

"Move!" Nami shouts.

"Nah, I got it" you say casually.

The cannonball slams directly into you, kicking up a massive cloud of dust and debris.

The Straw Hats lose their minds for the second time that day.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Sanji yells.

Chopper throws himself to the ground, screaming into his hooves "I CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS!"

"Why didn’t they move?!" Nami shrieks.

Luffy just grins "They’ll be fine. Right, Y/N?"

The dust settles, and there you are, lying on your back in a crater, looking mildly annoyed.

"Okay," you groan "That one sucked more than the bullet."

Brook tilts his skull "Ah, but did you feel it in your bones? Yohohoho!"

"I swear to god, Brook."

Franky shakes his head "I don’t know if this is amazing or horrifying."

Robin smiles "Both."

Zoro sighs "At this point, I don’t think anything can actually kill you."

You give him a thumbs-up "Pretty much hiw it works"

Luffy bursts into laughter and punches his fist into his palm "Alright! That means we really are unstoppable now! Let’s get back to the Sunny and celebrate!"

The crew cheers, except for Chopper, who is still lying on the ground, contemplating his life choices.

As the Thousand Sunny sails away from the battlefield, a transmission crackles to life in a Marine base far away. A serious-looking officer listens to the report with growing concern.

"…Confirmed reports indicate that the Straw Hat Pirates have a new crewmember with apparent immortality. We are still gathering information, but if true, this could be one of the greatest threats we’ve ever faced."

The officer frowns "Increase surveillance on their movements. If this is real, their bounty is going to skyrocket."

The crew is still struggling to process what they just witnessed. Chopper is on his fourth cup of tea, shaking slightly. Nami is already calculating how much higher her bounty is going to be just because of association. Luffy, meanwhile, is grinning ear to ear.

"Alright, Y/N, let’s test it!" Luffy exclaims.

You blink "Test what?"

"Your power! Let’s see how much you can take before you go down!"

"Absolutely not," Nami cuts in immediately "We are NOT using our crewmate as a test dummy."

Luffy pouts "But it’s so cool! Y/N’s like a superhero! Or a really bad zombie!"

Brook raises a hand "As an actual undead individual, I must say that I find this comparison quite unfair!"

Zoro leans back against the mast, arms crossed "I say we let them do what they want. If they really can’t die, it’s useful information."

Sanji glares at him "And what, you just wanna go around slicing them up for fun?"

"Did I say that?"

"You were thinking it."

Usopp waves his hands frantically "Okay, okay, let’s NOT casually experiment with Y/N’s immortality like it’s some kind of game! We should be asking the important questions."

"Like what?" You ask.

"Like… can you drown?"

Silence.

Everyone turns to look at you. Your eye twitches.

"Usopp," you say slowly "Why would you even ask that?"

"Because it’s important! What if we’re in a battle at sea? What if you fall overboard? Will you just come back to life at the bottom of the ocean?"

You pause, then frown "…I have no idea."

"WELL, THERE’S ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT!" Luffy cheers and suddenly grabs you, launching himself off the ship and into the water.

The crew collectively loses their minds.

"LUFFY, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!" Nami screeches "YOU’RE A DEVIL FRUIT USER!"

Sanji dives in instantly, hauling both you and Luffy out of the sea. Luffy is sputtering and laughing, while you just cough up a lungful of seawater.

"So?" Luffy asks excitedly "Did you die?"

You glare at him "I ALMOST DID, YOU IDIOT!" You shake your head and squeeze water out of your shirt "Looks like I still need to breathe. Maybe I'll just be alive once I'm out of water..."

Chopper collapses in relief "THANK GOD."

Robin chuckles "Well, that settles that. Y/N isn’t entirely indestructible."

Franky grins "Still, that’s SUPER impressive! The Marines are gonna have a fit when they get the full report on this."

Meanwhile, at Marine Headquarters, a high-ranking officer slams a fresh bounty poster onto the table. Your face stares back at them, right beneath a massive new bounty.

WANTED: Y/N Dead or Alive Bounty: 1,200,000,000 Berries

"Find them. Now."