#how to sell your airplane

[planetadaa]

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[jjkbambi]

the best man! luigi mangione x reader

summary it’s your brother’s wedding this weekend. best man! luigi and you are in charge of finding something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue to gift your sister-in-law for the wedding!

no warnings! just fluff and vibes. slight enemies to lovers? he’s your brothers best friend, so naturally there’s a bit of a push and pull. comfort + slice of life . pls tell me if u like!

for the first and last time, your brother entrusts you with his shiny silver credit card.

the fancy card was shoved in the back of your scuffed clear phone case, and yet, you couldn’t help but feel a touch of pride swinging it around. it felt like everyone around you now knew about your exclusive access to mediocre airplane food and flight points no one ever knew how to use. of course, the real perk was priceless: this thing was doing a great job at stroking your ego.

“i’m sure we won’t find something borrowed at swarvoski, y/n.”

your brother’s last-minute plea to fulfill the wedding tradition of something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue came with two conditions: an unlimited budget and the unspoken punishment of spending the weekend with his best friend.

“luigi, all diamonds are borrowed,” you huff. “we didn’t find them under the mall or in america.”

luigi had dropped by your house far too early in the morning for you to be in a good mood. he hadn’t been fair, either, proudly announcing that he’d already fulfilled two out of four of the needed items on the list. something old: the beloved couples prom photo glossed over and re-framed, tossed at the back of his car for all those with eyes to see. and something blue: a pair of bright blue oval sunglasses the boys had found in tokyo. you tried to tell him that, objectively, the glasses were really fucking ugly and there was just no way anyone could give that to a woman on her wedding day. luigi wouldn’t listen. he tried to sell you on the idea that the foreign souvenir was sentimental, proof your brother had been thinking about her despite time and distance, but you were already settled on the idea that oval sunglasses hadn’t been a good idea since the nineties.

you stare down the case of rings intently. before you can find one that catches your eye, luigi interrupts again, “she’s already getting two rings.”

“she has two hands,” you argue.

“you have two shoulders; you don’t wear a bag on each everyday.”

“you don’t see me everyday.”

“right.” he agrees seemingly just to agree. the brunette boy leans over the counter, casting his masculine judgement over the case of brightly colored jewelry.

just as the quiet settles in, he comes with a grumble, “these are impractical.”

they’re supposed to be. they wear bold, unconventional jewels. to his point, their gallant design teetered on the edge of gaudy, yet there’s the one. the white idyllia cocktail ring: a mix of cut gemstones, with a delicate flower design at its heart. the petals were a collection of smooth yellow stones, curled in a way that almost looks like they’re caught mid-bloom, while the rhodium plating gives it a nice silver contrast. it’s sweet but striking, the kind of piece that demands attention without screaming for it.

“they’re cocktail rings,” you say, defensive.

luigi lifts one shoulder up to shrug. “they’re tacky.”

“you wear hybrid shorts and souvenir tees—“

“are you two alright over here?” the sales associate chirps, all bright eyes and perfect teeth.

“we are perfect,” you reply through a small, forced smile, your headache blooming like a bad omen.

she’s tall, polished, and dangerously cheerful for how early it is. “what’s the occasion?”

“a wedding—” you start.

“oh, wow, a wedding?” she gasps, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “congratulations! you two make such a beautiful couple.”

the sheer horror of spending any more life tethered to luigi hits you like a truck. you open your mouth to deny it, but before you can, luigi nods with a polite, “thank you.”

he doesn’t even flinch, casually inspecting a display of bracelets while you’re left to choke on your indignation. you freeze, caught between correcting the mistake and just letting it slide. but before you can make up your mind, luigi leans in, casually gesturing to a row of silver tennis bracelets. “we’re actually just picking out something nice for her before the big night,” he says with a playful grin, his tone light and teasing.

the sales associate beams, clearly oblivious to the tension between you two. “how lovely!“ she sings. “you’re both so lucky to have each other.”

“so lucky,” you manage.

luigi, on the other hand, doesn’t miss a beat, turning to the associate with that effortless charm you’ve heard so much about but never actually seen in practice. “we were just talking about how much we prefer simpler jewelry, you know? nothing too flashy. like those rings over there, totally not our thing, right babe?” he grins, nudging you playfully before adding, “these thin bracelets look nice, though.”

“tennis bracelets,” you correct him, trying hard not to look annoyed.

“whatever you want, babe,” he says with a wink, clearly having way too much fun with this.

the sales woman says something chirpy before fluttering off to grab a tray of options, and luigi leans closer to you with a stupid playful smirk. “you know, it’s fun messing with people sometimes,” he tells you.

you rub your temples in attempt to soothe your storming headache. “you’re just being annoying,” you say, deflated. “i’m gonna go grab a coffee. please just don’t get an ugly color like yellow or green.”

he cocks his head to the side. “i like those colors?”

that doesn’t surprise you. “you’re one of a kind, mangione,” you hum, the words almost losing their bite as you slip the shiny silver card from your case, tapping it lightly against his chest. “have fun. just text me when you’re done.”

luigi opens his mouth to reply with something, perhaps incentive to stay to keep you between him and the sales associate, but before he can get it out, the winter chill finally gets the best of you. you make a sharp, purposeful exit, walking fast enough to look like you know where you’re going, but not so fast it’s obvious you’re trying to escape.

the cold air bites at your skin, but your instincts were right: espresso is the only thing that’ll fix your morning. you settle by the fountain, wrapping your hands around the warmth of your cup, grateful for the quiet. just as the steam from your drink begins to settle, you hear the rustle of gift bags. expensive gift bags.

you look up. luigi, brown-haired and a bit late. “you didn’t answer my texts,” he says.

you blink, then glance over at your phone.

from Luigi Mangione (Penn) Where are you

from Luigi Mangione (Penn) I hate this mall

Luigi Mangione (Penn) is now sharing his location with you! Would you like to share it back?

from Luigi Mangione (Penn) Fucking answer me

3 missed calls

“oh my god,” you say, eyes widening. “luigi, i swear i’d never do that on purpose.”

before he takes the chair beside you, he gives you a telling look. you would.

“pep,” you frown, the childhood nickname rolling off your tongue seemingly ticked him off more. “seriously, my mind hasn’t been working all day. i haven’t slept and—you know. everything’s just been weird.”

“alright,” he sighs, trying. “what’s bothering you?”

“you’d think it’s stupid,” you say, trying to dismiss the purpose of your sadness entirely. at the end of the day, you didn’t want to get into your dip in depression with your brother’s best friend. all your woes would just turn into an endless run of joke material at next year’s thanksgiving. “what’d you buy?”

“silver thing.” luigi answers, sliding the giftbag toward you. “shiny, impossible to hate. we’ll have to pull together something more interesting for something borrowed.”

you nod, flying through the clouds of gift wrap to get to the beautifully extravagant

yellow

box.

your lips pull into a straight line.

“they were out of the other color boxes. but the bracelets silver,” he tells you.

you touch the box gingerly and try to take the high road. there was no reason to end a bad week worse. “i’m sure it’s nice,” you manage.

luigi crosses his arms over his chest. “look in the other bag,” he says, slightly pushy. you brighten up, slightly at this—he was a smart guy, but was he wise and willing enough to invest in options?

you turn to the other bag with the other box, also mustard fucking yellow, but smaller and more delicate. pulling the top open, you reveal the white flower ring you’d been eyeing earlier—its petals a soft, intricate design that now seems even more beautiful in your hands.

“you kept looking at that ring,” luigi points out. “it’s yellow.”

you first look at him, then the ring. did he seriously buy this just to prove a fucking point?

“it’s white and gold.”

“says yellow on the receipt.”

you sigh, shutting the lid and dropping it back into it’s fancy gift bag. “i guess we’ll have to ask the bride.”

“we can go back and ask the sales associate for all i fuckin’ care,” he says, his tone firm. you laugh at how silly this is.

“you swiped my brother’s card for a ring, just so we could argue about it?” you say, rolling your eyes. “somehow, i’m the one everyone calls crazy?”

“no, i put that one on my card,” luigi corrects. “you can keep it.”

you freeze, looking up at him, confused. he wasn’t the type to indulge in unnecessary accessories. he hated consumerism. hell, he’d gone off about capitalism all the way over here. “what do you mean?”

“you liked it.” he shrugged. “it’d look good on you anyway, just keep it.”

you blink, momentarily thrown off. it sounds so silly, but as you look at him, you realize it’s the nicest thing that’s happened to you all week. you feel a warmth spread through you, unexpected but welcome. you lunge in for what was probably your first ever hug.

“aw, pep,” you say, tone soft and musical.

he pulls back, “no—we don’t have to—”

“no, seriously, you have no idea how awful this week has been for me,” you sigh into his neck. his warmth feels nice. warranted. he’d allow it. “thank you.”

“tell me,” luigi says into your hair. he hugs his arms around the small of your back, gentle, soft, barely there.

“hm?”

“tell me what happened.”

you try to mask the tension in your chest as you search for the least emotional way to explain your drop in enthusiasm. you pull away and start cautiously.

“well… my boyfriend pulled out of the wedding.”

“…oh.” he blinks, slow to a reaction. “is he okay?“

“we broke up,” you truth. the words feel foreign on your tongue, awkward in their simplicity. of all the people you expected to have this conversation with—gossiping over coffee about your ex—instagram user luigi.from.fiji was nowhere near the top of the list.

“oh,” luigi says. you feel him turning in, his gaze sharpening, studying you closely. you deliberately adjust your hair and look away, trying to escape the intensity of his attention.

“it’s whatever.”

“it’s not whatever. are you okay?” he asks, the concern in his voice making it clear he’s not going to let you off the hook that easily.

you put a hand on his wrist. “just don’t tell anyone. everyone in the family still really likes him.”

“y/n, i wouldn’t do that,” luigi swears. “and for the record, i never liked him.”

“you met him, what, once?”

“first impressions only take seven seconds,” luigi says, his tone shifting, a hint of a smile in his voice. “he wore a band tee to my parents’ country club. any reasonable person would’ve at least read the dress code before stepping in. it’s fuckin’ golf, not bowling.”

“luigi mangione, the fashion police,” you retort mockingly.

luigi relaxes into his seat, chocolate brown eyes searching yours. “so what happened? what’d he do?”

“everything just started to suck,” you admit, your voice softer now, like you’re still trying to make sense of it all. “he forgets what weekend the wedding is, forgets he has a trip planned with his boys. it’s like everything else comes first, and i’m just… somewhere in the background. i asked him if he knew when my birthday was — and he just stood there, silent.”

“so you broke up with him?”

“does that surprise you?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

he raises his hands in defense, a small laugh escaping him. “i was surprised you gave him a chance,” luigi argues, his gaze reuniting with yours, a different comfort in his gaze. “i’m not surprised you left him. surprised it took you so long, sure.”

“oh, fuck off,” you dispute, playful but sharp. “you don’t get to have an i told you so moment right now. you met him once then moved away!”

luigi scoffs. “it’s not rocket science, you know. i didn’t have to be across the street to see that you’re way too pretty to be wasting your time. honestly, i don’t know how anyone could ever forget someone like you.”

you hate that you flush at the compliment, quickly shaking your head back into reality. “you don’t have to be nice to me just ‘cause i had a shitty week, pep.”

he rolls his eyes. unbelievable. even your gentlest moments were shielded by your wall of contretemps. “i’m not being nice just because of that,” luigi says, his voice dropping a little lower. “i’m being nice because you deserve it. shitty week or not.”

you feel light-headed, like the ground beneath you is shifting with every word. the afternoon sun hasn’t even touched you yet, but it feels like you’ve been swept away by a storm. “thanks, i guess,” you say, suddenly shy and unlike yourself.

he leans forward — just a touch closer, his lips curling into something warmer, more certain. “you’re welcome,” he says, his gaze never leaving yours. it’s as if he’s trying to read the very contours of your soul, tracing each flicker of thought that dances across your face. his eyes move slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid to miss even the faintest shift in your expression, as though every moment with you holds something worth studying, something worth remembering. “and in case you didn’t know—if you ever need someone to make you feel special, i’m always around. not just ‘cause you deserve it, but because i’d be lucky to get the chance.”

your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, time seems to slow down. you can’t even really help the smile that tugs at your lips. “you really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

luigi chuckles softly, a hand brushing lightly against yours. “only when it’s you.”

[soon-palestine]

as an american citizen, you have the right to assemble. the police and other governmental agencies violate this right through mass arrests, illegal use of force, criminalization of protest and other means that threaten our right to free expression.

DO NOT TALK TO THE POLICE:

they are not your friends. they are not there to protect you, regardless of your race. their presence there is to protect the interests of the state.

what to do if you are detained or stopped by the police:

do not resist, even if you think they are violating your rights.

calmly ask someone to record.

ask if you’re free to leave. if you are, walk away.

how to stay safe during a protest:

write phone/legal aid numbers on your body. bring a sharpie for others to do this.

ALWAYS use the buddy system. don’t be selfish & stick to your own friend group. if you see someone alone, invite them into your circle.

don’t know where to seek legal aid?

before attending/during a protest, visit http://nlg.org/chapters/#massdefense.

NLG chapters are organized into regions. find. your region and write their number on your body.

encourage others around you to write that same number on their body.

4. if you are threatened with or under arrest:

you have the right to know why you’re being arrested. calmly ask. if they refuse to provide a reason, stay quiet and ask for legal representation immediately.

do not give any information or sign anything without a lawyer present.

what to do with your phone during a protest:

put your phone on airplane mode

disable face ID/touch, replace with 6-digit passcode instead

spreading awareness is great but avoid posting photos of people that include identifying features.

police want everyone to leave the area, what should that look like:

shutting down a protect through a dispersal order must be the last resort for police.

a clear danger must be present.

police must give adequate time for protesters to disperse and an exit route.

what are your rights if you’re being stopped or detained by police:

you do not have to consent to you or your belongings being searched. if you consent, anything can be used against you in court.

police can conduct a “pat down” if they suspect you have a weapon.

if you see someone being detained, what should you do:

record the interaction. police can not demand to view or delete any footage without a warrant.

use calming affirmations towards the person being detained. they are likely scared. be there for them.

use whatever privilege you have to protect others.

if you see a disabled person struggling, offer to help. find medics to assist people experiencing anxiety or having a panic attack. if you see a BIPOC being harassed, surround them.

personal note on using your privilege: i have seen white people, countless times, place themselves in front of BIPOC when police draw weapons/approach protests. it often works.

do not be a person that just acknowledges their privilege, use it for good.

10. remember that we protect us. ignite this chant as a reminder to everyone present if you have to. communities are supposed to help one another. don’t be a sell out, offer support, share resources, food and water. be a kind soul.

if you can not participate in a protest for whatever reason, you can still help! drop-off supplies! (water bottles, allergy-friendly foods/snacks with ingredients labels on them, sharpies, cards with legal aid numbers on them, masks, makeup remover wipes, hand sanitizer, etc)

sources/disclaimer: main source:

@ACLU and my own opinions. this is not legal advice. consult legal representation if you are in need of assistance.

stay safe, be on the right side of history. black lives matter, no one is illegal, we protect us, land back, all oppression is connected and free palestine. 🇵🇸

[mymoshangthoughts]

oki my guys can we plz talk about gold digger airplane?

like look, i know it's nice to write him with the moral fortitude to not want to take advantage of his partner financially and ngl, some of my favorite fics have portrayed him as being uncomfortable with people buying him shit

but dearest to my heart, this man will hug any thigh in the name of gold-digging his way to comfort

pride? what pride? who has time for pride when you've written a million words describing papapa for the explicit purpose of paying your bills. you look down on those who have the pride to be uncomfortable with expensive gifts

you have one of several reactions when you are presented with an expensive gift

score! i love this, i wanted this, it's mine. if they try to take it back i will weep and beg and bite

score! i hate this, its totally gross looking, imma sell it off at a marked up price and get a profit out of this worthless fucking gift

score! this means that i have this level of monetary value to the person gifting me, which means i can ask for more shit, better shit, give me an inch and i will take a mile

score! this person is clearly dumb with their money and will therefore be easily persuaded into spoiling me fucking rotten. this is it, boys. we made it

or really any variation of this

look, he might totally love the person gifting him the items. assume its his one true love, the icy king mobei jun himself and he is looking at this glamorous diamond gift going "o...m...g... he's dumb with money. this is the jackpot. sexy, cool, AND easily exploited for cash?! I WILL MARRY THIS MAN"

look

i just want shameless gold digger shang qinghua so fucking bad

also literally mobei jun realizing that shang qinghua is weak to wealth and just being like "oki so imma just literally bury him in diamonds so he'll never even think to leave me" bc mobei jun Does Not Care

whether shang qinghua is staying for his massive tits or his expansive treasury, so long as shang qinghua stays, he is a happy dude

but also yes i want him to be mean about it LOL please make shang qinghua cry by confiscating his diamond collection. do it.

shang qinghua cackling as he counts his money and being on top of the world and calculating how much he'd get in a potential divorce (because he's cynical as fuck and he WILL win the divorce, fuck you. even tho he has no intention of divorcing this man. that would be like killing the golden goose or whatever)

and sure, shang qinghua does 100% absolutely love his husband. if his husband was poor as dirt, shang qinghua would still be there at his side through thick and thin. his feelings go beyond money and he would pinch every penny for the rest of his life to be with his beloved. this is all true about him and his feelings of love and loyalty are sincere as fuck

but does that mean he isnt OVER THE FUCKING MOON TO MARRY RICH? dude, he is living his fucking dream and he is going to take FULL advantage of this gloriously bountiful life. it's like finding out your boyfriend is well-endowed. like sure, you'd still love him if he had a small dick, BUT YOU ARE NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT THAT BIG DICK, NOT AT ALL, YOU INTEND TO ENJOY THAT BIG DICK TO THE FULLEST EXTENT

thank you for attending my insane rant, long life gold-digger airplane. may he thrive!

shen yuan: *scrunches up his face* how can you deal with that? he treats you like a wallet

mobei jun: eh, he has yet to figure out that ive basically used that wallet to trap him in this relationship

shen yuan: that sounds like financial abus--

airplane: HUBBY! I WANT A NEW PAIR OF SHOES! THE ONES THAT COST AS MUCH AS CAR!

shen yuan: ...ya know what, match made in heaven. im going home.

(shen yuan who would absolutely hate if binghe treated him like a wallet but also spoils his binghe rotten without being asked and would 100% be uncomfortable receiving expensive gifts from binghe lolol)

[inamagicalhallucination]

Atsushi’s hands trembled as he waited for the phone to be answered. He hoped Dazai-san would answer. Atsushi had seen him ignore phone calls often – though he usually picked up for Atsushi (specifically after he hadn’t picked up once when Atsushi had gotten kidnapped (again); though Atsushi hadn’t blamed him because it was 4 am at the time, and Dazai had been, for once, asleep). But Atsushi had watched as Dazai-san hung up (on numbers he had saved), watched them ring (on numbers he was clearly familiar with but were not saved), or turned on his airplane mode. Dazai really avoided phone calls.

Atsushi had a general sense of hope that Dazai wouldn’t ignore him – but he wasn’t calling from his own phone. He didn’t even know where it was.

Instead, Atsushi was in a phone booth; the only light he had was the pale yellow of the streetlight. No one was out and about, all the buildings around him were dark and vacant. Atsushi didn’t know where he was.

He didn’t know how he’d gotten here.

Had he been kidnapped? He couldn’t remember. The last thing he remembered was walking home after work. If he’d been kidnapped perhaps his memory had been wiped. Still, even if it was nice to try and think of a logical solution, it did not settle the eerie unease he felt. 

Especially since he didn’t feel injured. Perhaps Byakko had overtaken… but his clothes were unharmed minus a few dirt stains here and there. He looked… he felt…

He hoped Dazai-san picked up.

He looked around, wishing he could recognize something, anything – just a trigger. Something that would bring back…

“‘ello?” an achingly familiar voice mumbled, half asleep. Atsushi almost sobbed in relief.

“Da-Dazai-san?”

A pause and some shuffling.

“Atsushi? What number is this? Why aren’t you calling from your phone?” Atsushi felt a sob slip past his lips. His shaking wavered at Dazai’s voice though. 

“Atsushi?” Dazai sounded really uncomfortable. If Atsushi had had the energy to think about it, he’d laugh at Dazai’s inability to deal with emotions.

“Daz-Dazai-san,” he wailed, not being able to push all the words and worries he had out in the open. 

He felt like a child.

“Atsushi? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“I-I,” he took in a deep breath before forcing himself to continue, “I don't know-know whe-re I am– I- I ca-can’t re-member anything.”

There was a pause again and then shuffling.

“Ah, I see,” Dazai said, voice suddenly light. “Atsushi-kun got lost!”

Atsushi sniffled miserably.

“And needs his big, great, strong mentor to come rescue him!” 

Even through his tears, Atsushi snorted. He wiped at his eyes – his hands weren’t shaking anymore.

“Do you recognize any buildings?” 

Atsushi shook his head, remembered himself, and mumbled ‘no’.

“That’s fine,” Dazai continued, “for an amazing mentor– no for an amazing beam of existence such as myself– this is no challenge! Can you read any signs? On buildings or on the street?”

That, Atsushi could do. 

He looked around, wiped his eyes again so his vision wouldn’t be tear-blurry, and called for Byakko’s vision just in case. He muttered off any sign he could catch until Dazai hummed and said he was on his way.

“You know wh-where I’m at?” Atsushi asked.

“Yeah,” Dazai said, absentmindedly, “I tried to sell Kunikida-kun coke there.” 

He hung up before Atsushi could ask.

Atsushi squatted down, resting his arms and head on his knees. He was trying to calm himself before Dazai showed up. Though he’d pulled from Byakko again, transforming his ears, to make sense of any noise that could indicate Dazai. 

When Dazai came, after half an hour or perhaps an hour, or perhaps even 10 minutes, Atsushi sent him a wobbly smile. He didn’t offer anything else and Dazai didn’t ask. Not about why he was there or why he was curled up on the seat during the car ride.

Nor did he comment on Atsushi’s grip on his jacket as they left the car. 

He simply let Atsushi follow him back to his own apartment as if it was a perfectly normal thing for him to do.

The next day, when he cautiously approached Ranpo, hoping to get some insight into his potential kidnapping and memory loss, he was met with strangely sad green eyes as Ranpo assured him that he hadn’t been kidnapped at all. Instead, Ranpo said, he should go see Yosano. 

He lingered at her door but shrugged it off. He had probably transformed. Yeah, that was it. He just needed to focus more.

Ranpo stared at him as he walked back to his desk, but did not say anything. 

When he sat down, Dazai reached one long leg over to tap his foot but also did not say anything.

/

Atsushi ignored it for a week.

Then he found himself blinking around in a vaguely familiar alleyway, trying to figure out what had happened. He looked around, trying to remember how he’d gotten here. He scrunched his eyes shut, desperately trying to remember his last memories but it was all a blank from him leaving his apartment in the morning.

Atsushi shuddered, trying to calm himself.

This was okay.

It was probably Byakko. He just needed to breathe, he needed to calm down.

Breathe.

Breathe…

Just breathe-

“Weretiger?” 

Atsushi spun around, hands flinging into a defense position. He was greeted by yellow hair.

“H-Higuchi?” he blinked, taking in the confused frown on his old attacker’s face.

“What are you doing in mafia territory?” she asked, looking around cautiously, perhaps checking if he was alone. For a moment he pondered if she was here on purpose… was it a coincidence? The mafia had tried to capture him before. Perhaps they’d done it again. Perhaps they’d been behind the other day too… but the alliance… would they risk it?

Before he could work himself up though, Higuchi’s name was called by a voice that should have filled Atsushi with dread.

Instead, though, it washed over him in relief, in familiarity. He didn’t know Higuchi well. Only meeting her when Akutagawa was there or that memorable time they had stalked Gin.

But Akutagawa… He was familiar. He’d know where Atsushi was. He’d-

“Jinko?” Akutagawa scowled at him. His coat rippled. Atsushi almost sobbed, half delirious in relief, half upset at himself for somehow associating Akutagawa with safety. 

Rashomon reached out but faltered as Akutagawa (and Higuchi) stared at him with wide eyes.

“Um… are you crying?” Higuchi asked tentatively. She shifted awkwardly. 

“Ak-Akutagawa,” Atsushi cried out, reaching up to pat his eyes dry and getting frustrated when more tears spilled.

Akutagawa, for his part, was looking around the alley, looking as if his skin was being peeled off and clearly looking to run away.

If he ran away though, Atsushi would lose his sense of familiarity, his grounding. He stumbled forward. Scared, an expression Atsushi had never seen on him before, Akutagawa stepped back. 

Akutagawa had, embarrassingly, seen Atsushi cry before. So his disturbed act was a little confusing. Usually, he’d scoff at him. 

Though perhaps Atsushi looking at him like he was his only lifeline was what had him freaked out. Atsushi shuffled forward. Akutagawa took another step back. Atsushi shuffled forward more, reaching a trembling hand to grip at Akutagawa’s coat. Akutagawa turned wild eyes at Higuchi who looked just as lost. 

“Ple-please, tak-take me,” Atsushi sniffled again, “...home.” Back at the agency, where he was safe, and not confused. Where it was familiar and warm. Where he should’ve talked to Yosano but didn’t and ended up here. 

He couldn’t remember-

“Uh,” Akutagawa said, reaching out a hand, stopping mid-way, and then continuing to awkwardly pat at Atsushi’s hand, perhaps subtly telling him to let the fuck go, “sure?”

“I’ll take care of the rest… I mean we’re almost done since Senpai was so quick!” Higuchi said, lacking her usual bright tone, instead sounding awkward and as if she was covering up that awkwardness.

Atsushi nodded miserably and leaned forward, burying his head in Akutagawa’s coat, trying to keep his focus on his very real, tangible form and not the confusion in his head. Akutagawa coughed.

Higuchi coughed too. Then Atsushi listened to her footsteps leaving, pausing every now and then, but continuing forward anyway.

“Jinko…” Akutagawa coughed again, “Release me, you fool.”

It seemed his confusion had left. And his Akutagawa-ness had come back.

“No,” Atsushi said. Akutagawa reached out both arms and grabbed his shoulders to push him back. Atsushi struggled for a second, before grabbing his wrist. Akutagawa glared at him. Atsushi stared at him.

Akutagawa turned around and started to stomp away, his wrist still in Atsushi’s grasp.

Atsushi stumbled over his feet, half walking and half running to keep up. However, Akutagawa’s quick pace worked in his favor as they arrived at the familiar bricked building in no time. Akutagawa stood in front of the door of the building. Atsushi stood next to him. Akutagawa gestured to the door. Atsushi stared at him.

“Walk.” Akutagawa said through gritted teeth, “Through.”

But…

But Atsushi had just been outside these doors last time… he’d gotten out, and walked to his apartment… and then it had been night and he’d been sobbing in a payphone booth, hoping Dazai would come soon.

Atsushi’s grip tightened. Akutagawa glared at him as if he was everything wrong in the world, but opened the door and walked in, anyway. Atsushi’s grip tightened more, causing Akutagawa, who was about to stop walking in the cafe, to falter for a second before he continued on. Up the stairs, through the hallway… and in front of the doors.

Akutagawa opened the door, ripped his wrist out of Atsushi's grip, and pushed him in.

He was greeted by looks of relief.

“Atsushi…” Kyouka’s voice came. He turned towards her. She was looking at him with concern, glancing at where Akutagawa had stood only seconds ago.

“I’m-I’m fine,” Atsushi tried to smile. Her frown deepened. “I, uh, I got lost.”

“Lost?” Junichiro chimed in, looking equally confused and relieved.

“Yeah… uh…” He didn’t have to make up an excuse as Naomi spoke up.

“I see,” she said, giving him a shaky smile that betrayed her own worries, “we never really gave you a proper tour of Yokohama. How silly of us!”

Kunikida, who had been looking between him and Ranpo, coughed once. “Yes, that was forgetful of us. I will add it to our schedule.”

Like that the tension…. Well, it didn’t break. It still lingered. But it seemed everyone was willing to give him space. He appreciated it. He needed to work up the courage to tell Yosano that he… that something was happening.

He hadn’t been kidnapped…

He hadn’t transformed… it was hard for the tiger to overtake in the middle of the day, like today. 

So…

It wasn’t as if Atsushi’s memory was strong. Heck, he hadn’t even remembered he’d killed someone before. At least until Shibusawa had somehow come back to life and had to be killed again. But that had been a traumatic experience and everyone had said it was probably an subconscious attempt to bury it because he couldn’t emotionally or mentally handle it at the time. But what was traumatic about walking?

Atsushi hesitantly walked towards Yosano’s office.

[mistydeyes]

hey, can i please request headcanons of 141 boys with reader that is a youtuber?

omg yes ofc! i used to (and still am) a HUGE YOUTUBE WATCHER so this was so fun to do :) thank you again for requesting!

vidcon but the uk version

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summary: You're not any regular civilian, you're a Youtuber ;) In all seriousness, here's some headcanons of how the boys interact with your channel and support you!

pairing: 141 x YouTuber!Reader

warnings: swearing

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price - beauty and skincare

you were already big on YouTube when you met John

he can't go into a Sephora without someone mentioning your latest video or TikTok

someone would assume you were an employee based on how you were able to help the fan pick out the best skincare and makeup

he was shocked at the sheer number of brand deals you participate in

he also is in awe at the corner you had dedicated to your ring light and makeup desk with a nice camera set-up

when you eventually move in together, he's just used to the number of parcels you get daily

he will insist on at least giving you some money when you do a beauty haul (even though you tell him you don't need it)

one time he tried to surprise you by picking out some things that you mentioned

now your most popular video is “trying out makeup that my boyfriend picked out”

his only annoyance is when you accidentally stain one of the face towels

eventually just buys a new set meant specifically for you when you wash off a look

you're planning on having a new video where you do skincare on him and finally get at some of his blackheads

soap - gaming

prior to meeting Johnny, you already had a sizable channel

you primarily did long lets plays and the occasional stream

your setup is absolutely gorgeous -i'm talking led lights, two monitors that have the best processing power, pro gaming chair, and posters

it took awhile to curate but it's your baby and you make sure he knows that

loves watching you game and will occasionally keep you company for those long streams

it reminds him of when his younger siblings would watch him game on their early Playstation and X-Box consoles

your subscribers love when he's there though because he has the best reactions

your most popular video? "my boyfriend plays five nights at freddy's ⚠️headphone warning⚠️"

despite having amazing technical skills on the field, his multitasking sucked and he would always forget to check on foxy or overuse the battery

you had a great time editing the video after and emphasizing the jumpscares

he won't subject you to rewatching your videos with him but he likes watching other channels or collars you've done

"This guy is absolute shite" "I know, that's why I don't play multiplayer with him anymore"

he'll be so excited if you ever get invited to a big event like Pax, E3, or Gamescom

you basically have to keep him on track as he loves stopping in artist's alley and looking at all the trinkets and merch people are selling

make sure to bring a huge suitcase because your game room is getting a few new additions

gaz - internet documentaries

think of Internet Historian or Down the Rabbit Hole vibe

your channel is dedicated to internet phenomena like Florida Man or the movement to Storm Area 51

you'd tell the facts of the trend and then add a few funny commentary pieces

usually your videos are 45 min to an 1 hr long so a lot of work goes into it

it's more of a hobby than anything but Kyle always thinks the amount of research you do for it is insane

"Babe I think you need a new laptop" "Why?" "I always know you're about to make a new docu-series because it sounds like a fucking airplane takin off"

once your laptop doesn't sound like its going to blow up, he'll be sure to keep you company as you write down your script

"Did you know that there was a convention for X or X happened?" is how most of your conversations go

he'll always smile and let you give him a spark notes version of what happened

will be the one telling you too sleep and that you can continue editing tomorrow

loves when companies send you things for ad reads

hoards all of the items from Dollar Shave Club and Raycon (his absolute favorite sponsor of yours)

he'll occasionally watch your videos while he's cooking or at the gym

always loves learning something new even if its about a failed furry convention

"I liked your latest video" is such a huge compliment from him because he knows how much effort you put into it

he'll occasionally feed you ideas that he sees while he's scrolling through social media

"You should do something on Hat Man" "WHO??" "Yk the guy you see when you take too much Benadryl, apparently Soap sees him too"

ghost - asmr

tbh doesn’t think much about your channel

you’ll just occasionally leave the room to record or crack some slime in front of a camera

however when your channel is mentioned in conversation, he considers revisiting

“have you heard about this asmr thing?” Gaz asked the group and Soap immediately interjected

“OH YEAH some of them are amazing to watch alone,” he said with a wink

“Like this account-“ Soap wasn’t able to finish his sentence before Ghost snatched the phone out of his hand

“Sorry just couldn’t see it” he apologized and he tried to suppress his disgust that someone else was listening to you at night like that

after that, he takes another look and watches a few of your more popular videos

ofc its your series roleplaying as a nurse or doctor taking care of someone

as well as one where you act like a sleepy girlfriend waking up next to their significant other

he will never say that he watches your videos but you do notice the uptick in views and likes (it's a cute little secret of his)

one time you attempted to ask all these questions about being in the military to help you write dialogue for your latest combat medic series

"People seriously want stuff like that?" "You'll be surprised, not tell me what you usually have in your pack"

he will cringe when you pull your asmr voice on him and whisper in your ear

"Cut that shit out."

[blossoms-phan]

✨philm club✨ rewatch - october 19th, 2015

liveshow - notes/thought yaps under the cut!

i love how they’re explaining how they do their individual liveshows to each other like im not saying they were just sat in the other room twice a week watching the other persons liveshow but like surely you have some idea of how it usually goes lmao

“im quite mellow today we’ve been in a car for a while” phil does seem like he has more mellow/chill energy in this one i imagine they were tired but also so go go go at this point resting for a second would only slow them down more

6 year friendiversary and dinof anniversary! It's so insane to me that it was only 6 years atp like this dnp was not too long after i became obsessed with them and i blinked and now its 15 years

dan “reassess your lives” and phil “i think you should be thanking them”- i think this is fascinating and ties into how today dan still automatically goes “im so sorry” when people say i've been watching you for x years and it makes us all want to shake him by the shoulders and say don't apologize silly man!!!!!!!!! take the compliment we mean it with love!!!!!!

dan exposing his ass to audience in leeds and years later during wad great stuff 

phil smacking his head on stage wow some things really don't change 

“calm down” in a silly voice from dan always reminds me of the cLaM dOWN airplane northern voice live clip 

i haven’t rewatched a liveshow in so long so much hair adjusting 

they sound so british sometimes 

“dan do you know what yaoi is” this is so funny to me you are asking the poster boy for yaoi day in 2024

looking at pics of p!atd on tumblr COME BACK TO ME TUMBLRINAA they r right btw i love pretty odd 

“dan choke me with your legs” why r u reading that. whore. see in 2015 knowing that a literal child probably said this its kinda cringe but also me with sister daniel and like all the Thigh in general these days so who am i to speak

“i like being remembered because that doesnt happen often with the celebrity folks”  :( this is sweet i know this time was A Lot and in general the radio stuff wasn't for them in the end and they appreciate that it was cool and fun but dan also mentioned how it was annoying to just be brushed off or being in a position where you're just forced to chase after all these big named people that dgaf about you but its just nice to see they noticed when they were remembered and the 1975 mention i could write an essay about 2018 dan and the album abiior

phil stopped the bus for fish and chips hehe i literally had fish and chips today this is cray. i hope they actually had them for dinner this day i would love to have a parasocial fish and chip night with them

you are pal creators :’) 

editing tips mention they are so unserious 

i am so emotionally attached to the london apartment but referring to it as “the house” when they have an actual House now is really getting to me 

aww talking about tabinof :’( i cant remember if i've talked about this before but there was hugee “drama” back in the day when it was first announced of people accusing them of selling out or some dumb shit when this wasn't another copycat youtuber ghostwritten book they poured their hearts into it as silly and fun as it was and the way dan talks about it really shows that i hope they were proud of it and still are

dan you don't really have the same hair but ok 

talking about the australian today show and they were just on it last month!! why does that make me so emo 

bitten right on the florida

bakeee offfff mention this is why i loved liveshows like just yapping about the shows they watch and cry over together

dan self aware get over it crashing out “so what he enjoys a themed drink” he is so silly dfjfkdfksfkj i love this part

can i live in that autumn moment?

rare what phil has been listening to! movie soundtracks ok king

dan being a little pretentious talking about their differing tv show opinions and phil just mocking his hand movements and giving a 2 word review their dynamic is so dear to me

Is this an unpopular opinion idk i can’t stand 3d movies  

black and blue as always

phil’s laugh and look and dan going “you cheeky little bugger” at him putting “phil and dan” on the chair page<3

hearing them talk about tour in the tatinof days when it was their first go and things like how its amazing hearing people sing to the preshow playlist in the context of like right now is soooooo as a longtime fan who yearned to attend tatinof while it was happening but couldn’t and finally actually experienced them and the magic of a dan and phil show and things like singing hot to go with phannies just a few months ago god im going to miss this era sm

the apocalypse/ai/technology tangent is scarily relevant right now and from nearly 10 years ago wow hashtag we’re all doomed

susan boyle after the amazingdan reaction video lmaoo

they were really doing the most during this era like omg so many promises of things coming soon among the tour and spooky week and book and they were literally just home for one day after being in a car for hours earlier that day like they seem in good spirits in this one and i know its just chill chatting for an hour but boys! take a breather! 

overall i enjoyed this one! i don't rewatch old liveshows a lot but this is a fun way for us all to commit to rewatching and discussing one a week bc there's always so many fun little forgotten details and i think it would be fun to continue even post break! i was very tired while watching this and somehow still wrote out this very long yappy list of notes which are really just a stream of consciousness which no one will read probably but i humbly present them anyways <3

[talkfastromance4]

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face--Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

author's note: thank you for your patience! As promised, this one is longer! and again, the dress in the photo is just so you can see what it looks like.

An Arrangement Masterlist

Follow here for all updates as I do not have a taglist

word count: 8.6k

warnings: a brief interaction with police, break-in

Feedback, asks, comments/reblogs mean the world to me!

Enjoy!

It’s a few weeks before the Navy ball and you’re at the flower shop putting together an arrangement for Betty. She’s at a rehab center after her surgery and so far she’s doing really well so you’re hoping she’ll be out soon enough. Jake has also been gone for a quick mission, he told you about it just before the fundraiser he helps sponsor at the pier.

You weren’t sure what to expect at the pier so you put on a pretty sundress that Jake couldn’t take his eyes off of. You definitely didn’t expect him to show up in his service khakis but when you saw the fundraiser was for foster children and their home you understood why because the kids hung onto him and asked him so many questions about flying the ‘big airplanes’.

The raised funds were to help add onto the house they live in and to hopefully build a new jungle gym. Some of the children were selling tickets and ran the booths with other adult volunteers. Jake stayed by your side the whole time introducing you to everyone while also speaking very highly of your flower shop which made your cheeks warm.

You snip some of the stems of the gladiolas you are working on smiling at the memory of that day and one little girl who kept running up to Jake–she had to be at least eight years old–showing him all the prizes she won.

As the sun was setting, the kids were leaving and that little girl came up one last time. You found out her name was Zara when Jake greeted her by squatting on the ground. She whispered something in his ear, he nodded then turned to you.

“Zara wants to give you something,” he smiled.

“Me?” you brightened and knelt down to her height. She hands you a plush flower with a smiley face in the center.

“Mister Jake says you make flowers.”

“He’s right, I do. Thank you so much, I love it,” you smiled at her. “And I know the perfect place to put it, right in my display case.”

Zara giggled then ran off towards the other kids at the bus and the director of the house they live in, a big smile on her face and you could have sworn she perked her chest up just the slightest.

“Thank you so much for today, Lieutenant. Your donation will definitely help us in building a new jungle gym.”

“It’s my pleasure, Ms. Dawes. Let me know if you need help with anything else. You’re doing an amazing job.”

She was clearly flustered then headed back to the kids. Jake faced you with his hand held out but you shook your head.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t charm people so easily like that.”

“Do I charm you?” he cocked his head to the side, his hand still extended. He wiggled his fingers clearly wanting you to hold his hand.

“I plead the fifth,” you sniffed but took his hand anyway.

“So,” Serena hops on the counter next to you, pulling you from your recollection of memory. “Where’s your boy toy? Haven’t seen him since he brought us breakfast a week ago.”

“He’s not my boytoy, but he should be home tonight. He had a mission to do.”

“Okay, boyfriend then.”

“He’s not that either,” you sigh tweaking the flowers a bit.

“Then what is he?”

You’re not sure what to say so you shrug.

“He takes you out, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He helps you with Betty,” she starts to tick off fingers, “he buys you and your employees breakfast, drives you around…if it looks like a boyfriend and quacks like a boyfriend–”

“That’s not how the saying goes,” you giggle then turn serious. “It’s not like that. It’s…complicated.”

“What’s complicated about it? You like him, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, figure it out ‘cause he’s down bad for you.”

You turn away with your arrangement to box it up and to also hide your smile at her comment. The door opens with the bell jingling above it and Reynolds comes in with a basket of your favorite snacks and sweet treats, a sign that Jake is on his way home.

“Lieutenant Seresin is on his way back from base but wanted you to have these to keep at the shop. I have to pick him up…will you be all right getting home?” Reynolds asks.

“I can take her Reynolds,” Serena says peering into the basket.

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely.

“If you need anything, give me or him a call. I’ll see you Monday Miss y/n. Miss Serena,” he smiles then leaves the shop.

“Jake’s a duck and Reynolds is a duckling,” Serena states taking a pear from the basket and taking a big bite.

Jake sent you a text that he’d be leaving base the same time you’d be leaving the flower shop and asked if you’d like to go to brunch the following morning. After locking up with Serena, she drove you home and the whole way there you have this weird feeling in your stomach.

When you get out of her car you hear a loud crash from inside your house and you freeze. There’s more scuffling and you scurry back inside already calling Jake.

“y/n? What’s going on?” Serena asks in alarm.

“Hey Sugar, I wasn’t expecting a–”

“Jake, someone’s in my house,” you whisper frantically. Serena gasps then pulls out her phone to call the police.

“Where are you? Are you inside?” Jake asks.

“No, I’m still in Serena’s car. She’s calling the police.” You’re surprised at how calm your voice sounds when inside your heart is about to burst out of your chest.

“Drive away from your house, I’m on my way. Stay in the car, y/n I’ll be there soon.”

You gulp when the line goes dead, he rarely calls you by your first name. Serena drives a block away but still in view of your home and you’re freaking out because what if whose inside comes out and runs towards her car? What if they have a weapon?

“It’s fine, the police are on their way,” Serena soothes, “I’m on with dispatch. Someone is five blocks away on another call and they’re coming here now.”

Two squad cars show up without their lights and get out of the car. You watch them walk right inside, your multiple locks were clearly busted. It’s like a lifetime goes by and then you see Jake’s truck turn the corner. Without thinking, you escape Serena’s car ignoring her hissing your name and run towards him.

He slams on his brakes, puts it in park then jumps out as soon as he opens the door catching you just as you leap into his arms.

“y/n, I told you to stay in Serena’s car,” he reprimands but hugs you tightly against him. One hand holds the back of your neck. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m scared,” you whisper shaking your head.

“It’s all right, I’m here and it looks like the cops are too. Have they come out and talked to you yet?”

“No, they’re still inside,” Serena says behind you.

“You can go home if you’d like, Serena,” Jake says, he continues rubbing the back of your neck.

“You sure?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay with Jake here,” you turn your head to look at her over his bicep. “Thanks for driving me.”

“You call me as soon as you’re done talking with them, okay?” she holds out her arms and you give her a tight hug.

“I will. Drive home safe, text me when you’re there.”

“Bye Jake, thanks for coming,” she says.

“Bye Serena,” he waves.

She gets back in her car then pulls away slowly. You fold your arms over your chest, feeling a breakdown coming but you can’t do that yet. Jake takes you in his arms again and you close your eyes focusing on his arms around you, his breath blowing on your hair and his heartbeat. It centers you and calms down your breathing, but sadly, your heart is still racing in fear.

The police finally came out to say the perp got out the back door and the coast was clear to head inside. They followed you around jotting down things that were missing; your small flat screen was taken, some clothes and the record player you saved up for was also gone. Your records were still there but some were smashed on the ground and your kitchen was a mess.

“They were probably looking for diamonds or other expensive jewelry,” one of the officers said. “People tend to hide them in their flour.”

“I don’t have any kind of jewelry expensive enough to be stolen,” you shake your head then gasp and run to your bedroom.

“y/n! Wait for us!” Jake calls after you and you look through your clothes again. The dress from Madam Floquet is gone.

“Oh no!” you groan and start to toss hangers with clothes on them behind you. It has to be here, it just has to be.

“Sugar, what’re you–hey, slow down!” Jake’s arms wrap around you, fingers latching around your wrists like a vice until you stop your frantic pillaging. “What are you looking for?”

“My dress! The one you got me, it’s gone! They took that too!”

The clothes in your hand fall to the floor and you bury your face in your hands, Jake’s arms circling around you even tighter.

“No, they didn’t,” he says softly in your ear, “I had Reynolds bring it to my house just for safekeeping.”

“It is?”

“Yes, it wasn’t stolen. Was there anything else missing from your room?”

“I don’t think so,” you whisper.

“Miss, could you write down your statement?”

Jake sat with you at the kitchen table while you wrote down the incident with a shaky hand. When the officers left, you stared around your small house now in a disarray and your door hanging from its hinges. Thinking of other possibilities that could have happened if you were here sent a shiver down your spine but makes you come to a decision.

You look at Jake, his green eyes alert even with the dark circles under his eyes again. Why does it seem like he never sleeps? Before you could catch it, a tear rolled down your cheek.

“What?” he asks, swiping it away with his thumb.

“Okay… I’ll move in with you.”

“Are you sure?” His eyebrows raise.

“I’m sure. This…was an eye opener. What if it happens again while I’m sleeping? You’re right, it’s not safe here but I can’t afford anywhere else. And you are closer to where Betty is.”

“Thank you,” he sighs taking both of your hands in his. “I’m so sorry this happened, Sugar. I’ll get you a new record player–the same one. And don’t worry about packing or anything like that, I’ll take care of everything.”

He brings your hands up, kissing the knuckles, and for the first time since meeting him, you fully trust that he will take care of everything.

And he did. Within twenty minutes after the break-in, he had movers at your place and they began packing up all your belongings. You watched and listened while he instructed where certain things would go in his house. Reynolds was also there to help but he mainly stayed by you to keep you company while Jake orchestrated the moving process.

When all was said and done, he leaned against your broken door frame watching you as you walked through your now empty house. This was your first big purchase as an adult, as a way of freedom of living on your own. You chose the color of the walls, the decorations in the bathroom and now it’s empty, barren.

Jake held out his hand as you circled back. Seeing his hand outstretched felt like a new beginning, a second chance and you were finally ready to accept his help so you took his hand and followed him out into the night. Although, it was nearing five o’clock in the morning.

Although you’ve been here before, he gave you another tour and you saw more Texas decor throughout the house. There were pictures of his family everywhere, he had two sisters who were married and a niece and nephew.

“I’d tell you about them but you look like you’re about to pass out on me, Sugar. Let’s get you to bed.”

You followed him up the stairs and into your room. The fake tree you remembered from last time had twinkly lights that were lit up and you saw your belongings from your old room in here.

“I made sure your clothes were placed in the closet and the dressers, you can rearrange them however you’d like. If you need anything at all, my room is at the very end of the hall.”

“Okay. Thank you, Jake, for everything,” you tell him.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep.”

The first official night after the break-in was hard. You tossed and turned because you felt like a stranger in his house and bed even though you’d slept in it before. Eventually, you did fall asleep and that was the first time you dreamt of Jake.

It was like a dream within a dream, it felt so familiar like it had happened before. Can you have deja vu in a dream?

In the dream, you were at a wedding with Serena sitting next to you and a song came on. Jake appeared in front of you wearing a dark gray suit.

“Did you request this?” dream you smiled at him as he held out his hand.

“Maybe,” he grinned then pulled you against him. You danced to the song feeling complete and whole and just right in his arms.

Then you woke up wondering what song you could have been dancing to that was deemed special for you and him? He left sweet notes for you in the morning before work with a fresh pot of coffee and a muffin that Rhea would make for you who you found out was his housekeeper. She’s a lovely woman in her mid-fifties and talked about Jake like he was her own son.

He still hasn’t talked about his family yet but maybe he’s waiting for you to ask on your own.

Since you moved in with him, he made sure he was done with work so he could pick you up from the flower shop and you could both see Betty together. With Jake being out of state again for a few days, Reynolds has taken up his position of driving you around again.

This is the first time you’re seeing Betty without Jake and you decide to open up to her about Jake and what your situation with him really is about. So you told her about him paying for her medical bills, moving in with him, the break-in. You didn’t tell her these things in the first place because you didn’t want to upset her in her condition but she took it in stride, she’s a very resilient woman.

“Well, Dolly, it seems like he really has feelings for you.”

“But why have me sign paperwork and pay for everything? I have such a hard time understanding.”

“Maybe he grew up seeing love like that. Does he come from a rich family?”

“I don’t know, I just found out he has two sisters and a niece and nephew. We’ve never really talked about his family yet.”

“All you can do is ask. It also might be a way to protect his own heart, and I know you keep yours locked and guarded in a high tower.”

“You really think he has feelings for me?”

“Honey, I haven’t seen anyone look at you the way he does since your grandpa looked at me.”

“Really?” You’re blown away because your grandpa looked at your grandma like she created the universe. “Tell me how you two met again.”

She explains how she first saw John at an ice cream shoppe with her mother. He was the handsomest man she ever saw in her life and she went back to that ice cream shoppe day after day until he finally bought her a cherry cola. They then went to the drive-in a lot, other diners and was told his family had lots of money.

That part wasn’t true but Betty didn’t care, they loved each other like crazy and were married within eight months of first meeting.

“Give Jake a chance, Dolly.”

“But what about–”

“Stop thinking and go with what you feel. Don’t think, do what your heart tells you. Promise me?”

“I promise.”

“When does he come home?”

“Tonight I think,” you sigh looking at your Apple watch. It was a ‘Welcome Home’ gift from him that was placed on your nightstand a few days after you moved in. You appreciated the discreet way he gave it and it did come in handy while you were at the shop working.

“And when is the Navy ball?”

“This Saturday. I’m so nervous, grandma. What if I make a fool of myself in front of his squad?”

“I’m sure you won’t, and I’m sure Jake will be by your side the whole time.”

She dozes off after that. You kiss her cheek and then go home. You hear splashing as you get out of the car in the driveway and you notice Jake’s truck is parked in the middle garage. Your heart leaps knowing he’s home.

“Have a good night, Reynolds,” you smile to him with the window rolled down. He winks then pulls out of the driveway and you head inside.

It’s dark in the house except for the underlights of the cabinets in the kitchen. The back door is slid open and you hear more splashing. You find Jake doing laps in the pool, his body aglow in the aquamarine lights. You watch him glide under the water fluidly for two laps, coming up halfway each time to catch a breath then descending into the water again.

You kick off your shoes, stepping carefully to one end of the pool while he’s at the other and wait until he comes to the halfway mark for air.

“Welcome home,” you call as soon as his head pops up. His eyes open and he smiles widely at you.

He swims to you quickly then stops in front of your legs that you’re lightly kicking in the water. He grabs hold of your moving ankles rubbing the inside of them with his thumbs.

“You’ve no idea how much I like hearing you say that, Sugar,” he pants, catching his breath from the swim.

“Feels like home when you’re here. When did you get back?”

“A couple hours ago,” his fingers tickle up and down your calves now. It gives you goosebumps. “Were you with Betty?”

“Mhm.”

The tickling of his fingers feels nice and it’s taking all your concentration to focus on your breathing.

“How is she?”

“Good. Still in pain and tired. She says hello.”

“I’ll come with you when you go see her again.”

“She’ll like that. How come you’re swimming?”

“It helps clear my head,” he lowers his head into the water and blows bubbles. “You can join me if you want. Birthday suits are highly recommended.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“Yeah?” you laugh then scratch your nose. “I don’t think so.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying. Do you want a pedicure?”

“Are you offering?”

“To pay, yes,” he nods, then tickles your toes.

“Jake! That tickles!” you shriek, jerking your legs but he keeps tickling. The quick movements of your legs makes water splash on your shorts and shirt then you’re both laughing.

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” he chortles. He stops tickling but keeps his grip on your ankles, his thumbs returning to the soft circles between your feet and along the arch.

He cocks his head to the side gazing up at you. Whenever he cocks his head that means trouble.

“Do you make those sounds just when you’re being tickled or from…other activities?”

“Other activities?” it’s your turn to cock your head.

“Nevermind, Sugar,” he shakes his head, lips quivering into a smirk. Then he rests his chin on your knee. “You’re just tempting me, that’s all.”

“Tempting you? How? I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s the worst part. You don’t even realize…I can only imagine what it’d be like if you were actively trying to tempt me. I’m already a goner.”

He’s staring at you with those hypnotic green eyes, he rolls his head so his cheek is pressed to your kneecap. His breath is warm on your skin and his hands continue to dance up and down your legs, going higher and slower each time.

“I know what you mean.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could even think to stop. You clap your hand over your lips hoping he didn’t hear it but of course he did because now he’s smirking.

“Yeah? Are you saying I tempt you, Sugar?”

“I’m saying…I…” you suck in a gasp when he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. His eyes still laser focused on you as he did so. “I-I understand what you mean.”

“That’s all?” he moves to your left knee, kissing you there as well. “Is this okay?”

His hands are on your calves and he pulls your legs apart a bit. You nod at his question. So with his lips still pressed to your knee, he gives small kisses around the circumference. They feel like little fish kisses, small pulses of his lips on your skin. He does the same thing to your right knee then he’s pulling himself out from the water to his full height.

Water droplets cascade down his body, your eyes follow one that rolls down his cheek and jawline onto his neck then over his chest and toned stomach before disappearing into the waistband of his swim trunks. You gulp, this is the first time you’ve seen him shirtless and what a sight it is. He’s standing between your opened legs and you feel his hip bones, your toes grazing against his calves under the water. This is the closest skin on skin contact you’ve had with him ever.

“Give me the word, Sugar,” his voice pulls your gaze back up to his eyes. He steps closer, crowding your space with his arms. His fingers slide up your thighs then rests his palms on the concrete beside you. “And I’m all yours.”

His pelvis is pressed against yours now, you can feel the coolness of the pool water but also the warmth radiating from his body and your head is spinning. Being this close to him is making your clothes wet and you clench your thighs.

“I…”

“Remember what I said at our first dinner together? How I said I could have pleasured you in your pretty flower shop?”

All you can do is nod because of course you remember it.

“Good. I gotta get out now, though. I’m all pruny, see?” he holds his hand up between you, his fingertips grazing the side of your breast as he does so.

You don’t even have time to look down and see because he’s backing away. A braver version of you would yank him back between your legs and kiss him, asking–no–begging him to show you exactly what he meant about pleasuring you. But you’re not at that brave version yet so you watch him walk through the water and use the steps to get out.

You have a nice few of his back muscles flexing as he runs his fingers through his wet hair. Your stomach flutters and you’re wondering how he could be so damn attractive. Jake pads across the concrete until he’s in front of you, his hand held out. You take it, feeling the water run down your arm as he helps you stand up.

“Want to watch a movie and order takeout?”

Will you be home for dinner tonight?” Jake asks Friday morning while you’re gathering your coffee and muffin. He’s sitting at the island with his tablet reading the news.

“Probably not. I’ve still got a bunch to do for this wedding tomorrow,” you sigh. Rhea hands you our lunch bag. “Thanks Rhea.”

“I added another muffin for dessert,” she smiles then picks up her cleaning supplies and heads into the dining room.

“You’ve been coming home late every night, last night I didn’t hear you until almost one a.m….” he frowns and crosses his arms.

“Yeah, it’s a big order. Me and Serena are working around the clock with Dom and Brynne helping out when they can. They’ve been working on a funeral arrangement.”

“Do you have to set it up for the wedding tomorrow?”

“Nope, they’ll take care of it. They know I’ve got the Navy ball with you tomorrow,” you smile then try to stifle a yawn but it escapes. You feel even more tired when the yawn finishes.

He stands up from his side of the island moving in front of you, bending a little to peer at your face more closely. His palms cup your cheeks as his thumbs brush under your eyes.

“How much sleep have you gotten?”

“I dunno,” you shrug and try to suppress another yawn. “Maybe five hours?”

“Five hours all week?”

“No, five hours last night. My mind kept me up on what I all needed to finish today.”

“You need your sleep, Sugar,” his fingers thread in your hair massaging the base of your neck. You let out a contented sigh.

“I’ll get it when the wedding’s done and Betty’s out of rehab. I told her we’d see her tomorrow before the ball, she wants to see my dress.”

“I’ll make sure we head there first before we go to the party,” he smiles and continues massaging your neck. “I set up a mani pedi for you tomorrow at eleven. Would you like me to call someone to do hair and makeup for you or would you like to do that yourself?”

“You have a hair and makeup person?” you tease but you’re feeling so relaxed with his neck massage.

“Yes, I do,” he smiles.

“Sure, that could be fun. Then I know I won’t look like a clown.”

“You never look like a clown. Promise me you’ll take an hour lunch today?”

“I’ll try.”

“You drive me crazy,” he sighs and removes his fingers from your neck.

“You do give good massages,” you turn your neck from side to side.

“That wasn’t even the full experience, darlin’. Have a good day at work.”

At midnight, you heard rumbling outside and then seconds later rain was downpouring on the windows. You sigh as you mark down on your clipboard a final count of the centerpieces in the fridge. You sent Reynolds home hours ago telling him you’d catch the bus promising you wouldn’t be too late. You broke that promise but you wanted to make sure the wedding arrangements were perfect because it was a shotgun wedding and the couple was desperate.

They insisted on paying double for the short notice and thankfully their request wasn’t anything too crazy. Lots of roses and lilies with pearls added throughout. Serena called it at eleven and you let Brynne and Dom go home early since they’ll be up early to set up for the wedding.

Being alone in the shop was your favorite because then you could crank your music up to as loud as you wanted without disturbing anyone.

Your watch started to vibrate and when you looked to see who was calling, an instant smile appeared because it was Jake.

“You’re up late,” you answer when you pick up your phone.

“Because you’re not home. Are you almost done?”

“Almost, just have to finish cleaning things up and I’ll be home. But it started raining and I don’t want to walk in the rain to the bus stop…”

“No need for the bus stop.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you open the door? I’m getting soaked.”

Your mouth opens in confusion and you look to the front door where sure enough, Jake is standing there getting drenched by the onslaught of rain. You run to the front of the shop and unlock the door, Jake rushes in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Reynolds told me you sent him home and when I saw the forecast I didn’t want you walking in the rain at midnight. Especially after what happened at your house. And,” he holds up a wet to-go bag. “I brought you dinner.”

“Wow, you didn’t have to–I mean, thank you,” you smile taking the wet bag from him. “I have some towels in the back, I’ll go get them so you can dry off. Alexa, turn the volume down to three.”

You set the bag on your desk then open the door to the bathroom where you have fluffy towels. You wash your hands so much throughout the day you want to have a soft way to dry them off.

When you walk back out, Jake has lifted his hoodie off and because of the rain, it caused his t-shirt to cling to it. You got another great peek at his tanned and toned stomach, a happy trail disappearing into his jeans.

Pull yourself together, you scolded yourself.

“Here you go,” you hold out the towels to him. He uses it for his hair immediately, scrubbing at it fiercely. His hair is sticking up in all directions when he’s finished and you giggle.

“You finish cleaning up and I’ll put the spread out,” he says.

“Okay, the bag is on my desk in the back. There’s a mini fridge with soda and water.”

“I actually brought some wine. Thought you might like it after your busy week.”

“Wine sounds wonderful,” you smile.

He sidles past you behind the counter, your chests bumping and he pauses.

“Hi, by the way,” he says, green eyes glittering. He has a boyish grin and it makes him even cuter.

“Hi,” you giggle. “I have a comb in the bathroom if you’d like to fix your hair.”

“You don’t like my crazy hairstyle? I was thinking of wearing it like this tomorrow.”

“You’d turn heads for sure, but I like it like this.” You reach up to comb your fingers in his hair, pulling it down over his forehead. With his hair being wet it makes it more manageable to move it how you want it to. “There.”

“Thank you.”

His voice is sweet and his eyes are soft staring down at you. You’re caught in his green eyes, anticipating some kind of moment happening but then a loud crack of thunder jolts the moment away. He clears his throat then moves back into your office.

You’re humming along to Dean Martin as he sings From the Bottom of My Heart while you finish cleaning up. You sweep away fallen petals and thorns then start to dance a little with the broom when Frank Sinatra’s That’s Life starts to play. This is Betty’s playlist you play for her whenever she’s in the shop and when you spin around you slam into Jake’s body.

“Oh!”

“I’m a better partner than a broom.”

He takes the broom out of your hand bringing you into his arms in one quick sweep. His hand is warm on your lower back and then you’re dancing, following his footwork easily.

“What about the food?”

“The food can wait, let’s dance for a moment. Practice for tomorrow,” he smiles.

You dance around the small front of your shop, Dean Martin transitioning into Roberta Flack’s The First Time Ever I saw Your Face plays and you can’t help thinking what a magical moment this is.

Moments like this don’t happen to you; dancing with a handsome man while it’s raining outside to old music? You must be dreaming.

“I like this playlist,” he comments, spinning the two of you.

“It’s for Betty. This was my grandpa and her song. They would dance all the time and I always loved to watch them.”

“Did they ever dance in the shop like this?”

“All the time,” you smile, “there’s a picture of them dancing on my desk.”

“Sounds like they had a great love.”

“They did.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you had any great loves?”

“I thought I did but…it didn’t work out.”

“How come?”

“He found someone else, someone better.”

“I highly doubt that, there’s no one better than you.”

“You’re just saying that,” you shake your head.

“I’m not. You’re the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever known. You work your ass off with no recognition even though you deserve it and you always exude this…lightness. Like you have a shine of happiness radiating from you.”

You duck your head and stare at his dog tags hanging over his shirt.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Look down or away whenever I compliment you. One day I’m going to have you see yourself the way I see you.”

You don’t know what to say to that so you continue to stare at his dog tags, your eyes tracing the letters of his name.

“y/n.”

“Hmm?” you force yourself to shift your eyes up to look at him and he’s so close.

So close that you can see little freckles on his nose and speckles of yellow in his green eyes.

“Do you…” he swallows hard. “Do you want to–”

“Do I want to…what?” you ask slowly. His eyes are hypnotic and this is the moment where a kiss is supposed to happen.

Will it?

“Do you want to–” thunder cracks and you both jump –”um, do you want to go eat now?”

“Oh, uhh, yeah. I could eat.”

You stop dancing, grab the broom and move back to your office. You eat the takeout and ask him questions about what to expect at the ball. Even though a kiss didn’t happen, it was still a very good night.

It wasn’t until you were laying in your bed that you realized why he didn’t kiss you. He said the ball was in your court, you were in charge, and he was waiting for you to say the words.

Or, a little voice in your head whispers, is he waiting for you to sign the papers?

You woke up at eleven Saturday morning and found a note from Jake stating that Reynolds is waiting for you when you’re ready to get coffee and take you to your nail appointment. Next to the note was a peach begonia in a small vase with a couple inches of water. Another small note lays under the vase and read ‘found this on the floor in your shop. It made me think of you.--Jake’

You quickly got dressed in comfy clothes and found Reynolds waiting for you in the kitchen. You’re completely relaxed while your nails are getting done, the hand and foot massage really felt wonderful especially after being so busy on your feet at work.

When you get back to the house, a woman with red and orange hair plaited in a French braid is waiting in the kitchen. Tattoos are scattered on her arms in a random way but they look good in their placements and she has a septum piercing.

“You must be y/n. I’m Inez and I’ll be doing your hair and makeup!” she smiles.

When you get closer you see she has purple contacts in and she’s easily the coolest person you’ve ever met.

She gushes about your nails then has you sit down in her chair.

“Don’t worry about Jake taking a peek, I banned him for a few hours until it’s time to go. This is so exciting, I’ve never met any of his girlfriends before. And I like you, you have a good vibe about you.”

Your cheeks warm at the mention of being called his girlfriend but you don’t correct her. You don’t think she needs to know this is all part of an arrangement. You listen with intrigue as she fixes your hair in an elegant style about the many celebrities she’s met in her job. Who her favorites were and who she’d rather not work with again.

She wouldn’t let you look at yourself in the mirror until you had your dress on so she helped you put it on. As Inez did the buttons you suddenly got very nervous about going to the ball.

“How’re you feeling, toots?” she asks doing some adjustments to your hair.

“Nervous. What if I don’t fit in?”

“You look like a bombshell, and who needs to fit in? He’s bringing you for a reason which is big for him, he usually goes stag to work events.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Never had the right person to bring,” she smiles. “Okay, I’m ready to have you look at yourself.”

She takes you into your closet and you don’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. Inez made your eyes look somehow fierce and delicate at the same time and your hair! You’ve never felt this good about how you look before.

“Wow,” you breathe and turn around to see the back of the dress, the diamonds cascading like frozen water.

There’s a knock at your door and Inez goes to answer it. Reynolds appears behind you in the mirror, a big smile on his face.

“You look incredible, Miss y/n,” he says.

“Thank you,” you smooth out the front of your dress. “Is it time to go?”

“Almost. Jake is downstairs waiting for you whenever you’re ready.”

“I think she’s ready,” Inez gives you an encouraging smile.

You follow her out of your room, Reynolds’ trailing behind, and the butterflies are back in your stomach because Jake is going to see you now. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you descend the stairs, eyes on your feet so you don’t miss a step and take a tumble. When you’re finally on a flat surface, you look up and your breath is taken away.

He’s wearing his Navy dress blues and this is the first time you’ve seen him in something other than his khakis. His wings glimmer in the light and he’s clean shaven with his hair styled perfectly. He’s so very handsome.

“Sugar…as I live and breathe,” he drawls, his voice like honey. “You’re breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you reply shyly.

“I have something for you,” he says then reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a Tiffany blue box.

You’ve never seen one in real life and now he’s placing one in your palm. With shaking fingers, you undo the white satin bow and lift off the lid. There’s another small blue box and when you pop it open you see earrings in the shape of leaves with small diamonds embedded.

“I thought earrings would be best since a necklace would be hard to wear with the neckline,” he says.

“Jake, these are…wow. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” you shake your head.

“I have,” he smiles at you. “Would you like to try them on?”

You nod and he holds the box in his palm so you can remove the earrings from the cushion. They’re cold on your lobes and feel a bit heavier than what you’d normally wear but they fit nicely.

“How do they look?” you ask him.

“Stunning,” he smiles. “Come look.”

He moves you in front of the mirror in the hall and they really complete the look of your dress.

“I love them, thank you so much,” you tell him.

“Are we ready to go?” Reynolds asks.

“Here’s your clutch, it has your phone and ID,” Inez hands it to you. “Have a great time! I want to hear all about it over lunch next week, okay?”

Jake guides you outside to Reynolds’ car with his fingers brushing the small of your back. He helps you in the seat being careful not to sit or place his foot on the slit of your dress. Which, now that you’re sitting, has fallen away from your thigh and you’re a little more exposed. Not too much but just enough to be promiscuous.

True to his word, you visit Betty before going to the ball and when she sees you she starts to cry. Tears prick in your own but you don’t want to ruin your makeup so you blink them away as best you can. She wishes you both to have a wonderful time and can’t wait to hear all about it when you visit again.

Nerves settled in your stomach on the drive to the venue but Jake took your hand, easily guiding you to the entrance. You saw all sorts of good looking people waiting outside, both in uniform and not and you wondered if it was a prerequisite to have good looks in order to join the Navy.

Some greeted Jake as he walked by, using his callsign or just his last name. Some of them were lingering their stares on you and you touched your face in case you had something on it.

It wasn’t until you were waiting to get inside to the main hall that you asked Jake why people were staring.

“They’re staring at you,” he murmurs. “You’re the most beautiful person here.”

“Jake, there’s tons of beautiful people here, including you.”

“But you’re a new type of beautiful, everyone knows everyone here already. They’re jealous you’re here with me, that’s all.”

He pinched your cheek affectionately.

The ball is literally being held in a ballroom and it’s a beautiful space with a grand marble staircase. Circular tables are set up at the bottom of the stairs where waiters and waitresses are walking around with trays of champagne and appetizers. This is a very fancy party.

You chat and mingle with people along the way to your table, Jake making you feel included every time. He pulls out your chair before you sit down and you read over the menu in its looped script. There’s seven courses, each one sounding better than the last.

“Hey Bagman!”

There’s a commotion to your left and two people are standing behind Jake. One is a woman in a beautiful red gown and the other is a man with glasses. He’s in Navy dress blues too.

“Is this Bradshaw’s date?” the woman asks, indicating to you.

“Bradshaw can dream. No, she’s my date. This is y/n,” Jake smiles when he says your name. ‘y/n, this here is Phoenix and Bob.”

“Nice to meet you,” you reply politely.

“You can call me Natasha. Sorry, another one of our friends has been bragging about how hot his date is so I just assumed. We’ve heard a lot about you, sorry you got stuck with Bagman as your date.”

“I thought you were called Hangman,” you look at him quizzically.

“I am. Phoenix has her own nickname for me,” he side eyes her and she just smiles.

“I bet Rooster’s date doesn’t even exist,” Bob says. You note his southern accent and wonder if he’s from Texas like Jake.

“You’re probably right, Bobby. He can’t land any woman with that atrocity on his top lip. Is Coyote here yet?”

“Almost. I bet he and the missus got stuck in traffic,” Natasha/Phoenix laughs.

“We’re gonna grab some drinks,” Bob says, “you two want anything?”

“Moscato for her and whisky for me,” Jake says.

“Be right back,” Bob smiles.

“Are they together?” you ask Jake when they’re out of earshot.

“Nat and Bob? No, Sugar, they’re just co-pilots.”

“Oh.”

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, placing his hand over yours on the table. His eyes show slight concern.

“I’m okay, still nervous to meet all your friends.”

“They’re harmless. They talk a big talk but don’t mean anything by it. They’re going to love you.”

He lifts your hand in his so he can kiss the back of it, his lashes fluttering.

As the night goes on you meet more of his friends, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy and Rooster. You met some of his commanding officers, Hondo and Maverick included, who gave you warm hugs, amongst others that you tried to remember. It was a lot of people but they were very friendly and had plenty of jabs towards Jake. He took them in stride but it made you wonder if their jabs did sting him a little bit.

Dinner was full of conversation, questions mainly pointed at you and about your flower shop. Then Rooster remembered you were the florist for Maverick and Penny’s wedding. Drinks were flowing so you assumed his next question was due to the alcohol being consumed.

“How much did Hangman pay you to be his date? He’s never brought a girl to one of these before,” Rooster jokes.

“Rooster,” Jake’s jaw ticks. He rests his hand on yours under the table, threading your fingers together. “Don’t.”

“What? I know there’s dating services if you need a date. Like if you don’t want to show up to your exes wedding alone, or a family reunion. No way she’d come here willingly with you.”

“Clearly you didn’t pay yours enough because she’s not here with you, is she now?” Jake arched an eyebrow, his tone steely.

You’ve never seen him like this before but the table laughs quietly. This must be routine for Jake and Rooster.

“She’s sick,” Rooster insists, then shifts his eyes to you. “How much did he pay you to be—“”

“Bradshaw! That’s enough,” Jake’s voice is severe and the table goes quiet.

“All right, all right,” Rooster rolls his eyes and leans back against his chair. “I’m only teasing.”

You remained quiet during the whole exchange. Did his friends know this wasn’t really real? What has he told his friends about you? Do they know this is fake, that you’re fake?

“Let’s go dance, Sugar.”

Jake stands up and you follow him with your hands joined together. You follow him to the dancefloor and he takes you in his arms. You can feel him shaking slightly in anger.

“I’m sorry about Rooster. We’ve always had a tense relationship and sometimes it goes too far. None of them know. I promise,” his eyes are serious but you see sadness there too.

“Why do you let them talk to you like that?”

“I’ve said way worse to them, trust me. It’s how we are, always has been,” he shrugs.

“Do they think you’re not good enough to date or something?”

“They’ve known me for a long time and have seen me when I was at my worst.”

“We’ll, I don’t like it,” you squeeze his shoulder. “They make you sound like a bad guy and you’re not.”

“I used to be. They’ve seen I changed but old habits die hard.”

“Hm,” you grunt.

He smiles at your distaste then spins you away from him. He catches you in his arms then dips you which makes you smile and laugh. You see his friends staring at you upside down before Jake pulls you back up.

“They’re seeing how you bring out a different side of me.”

“Are you showing off?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs then winks.

He dips you again and you fall into him laughing, this time people around you clapped at the move. The song changed to The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face and you stare at him in shock. You had an odd sense of deja vu then remembered your dream and you gasped.

“What is it?” he asks, gliding along the floor.

“Um,” you move your hand up behind his neck, fingers clinging to the short strands of his hair. “Nothing, just…did you ask them to play this song?”

“I might’ve suggested the DJ play this after I dipped you twice,” he nods. He tightens his hold on your lower back, his hand is warm on your bare skin. Then you feel the gentle circle of his fingertip on your skin and it only prompts you closer to him.

“Why?” you’re whispering now, your faces are close.

“Because the lyrics fit well with how I feel about you. I see the sun rise in your eyes everytime I look at you.”

You want to hide your face at his sweet words but you remember what he said at the pool and fight your inhibitions. So instead, you bite your lip. Jake brings his hand that’s holding yours in between you so he can tug your lip from your teeth.

“What are you thinking?” he asks softly, thumb still rubbing over your lower lip.

“I…I’m thinking I want…” you search his eyes as if the words you’re trying to say are there. Then you heard the lyrics of Robert Flack and it gives you the courage to ask, “Kiss me, Jake?”

He smiles softly, and when he moves his head down you close your eyes. You feel his soft breath first then his lips touch yours so delicately it instantly has you craving more but he kisses you slowly. You’re not sure how your feet are still moving with him but your lips are doing a new dance and when his tongue slips inside you sigh. You bring both hands into his hair while he grabs your waist.

You press yourself against him, loving how his lips feel. You feel it all the way down to your toes, nevermind you’re in a crowded room of people watching you. Kissing Jake is thrilling and new but also feels like home. You feel like you could fly.

You faintly hear a throat clearing but you keep kissing him, smiling a little as he nibbles on your lip. Then the throat clearing is a bit louder.

“Beat it, Phoenix,” Jake murmurs and continues kissing you.

“y/n’s phone is blowing up and I think it’s an emergency,” Phoenix says.

That causes you both to tear away, his eyes mirror the worry in yours and you’re running to the table. It’s missed calls from the rehab center Betty is at. It starts to ring again but you’re frozen.

“Let me,” Jake takes the phone from you easily. “Hello? She’s here with me, she was scared to answer the phone, what’s going on?”

You watch his face for any sign of your worst fear coming true but as he listens to whoever is on the phone, his face relaxes. He gathers your clutch and his phone from the table.

“Do we need to take her? Okay, we’ll be there shortly,” he hangs up then cups your cheeks in his hands.

“What–what–” your voice is shaking.

“An ambulance is taking Betty to the emergency room,” he says very slowly, his eyes steady on yours but you pull away in a panic. His hands are strong on your cheeks and you remain in between them. “Listen to me, Sugar. They found blood in her stool and that’s why they’re transporting her. The hospital will be able to help her faster. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You cling onto his wrists.

“Do you want to go home and change or go right there?”

“Right there,” you continue to whisper.

“I’ve got you, all right?” He kisses your forehead then grabs your hand. “Let’s go.”

You rush out of the ballroom with him, leaving the precious life-altering kiss on the dancefloor and head toward another life-altering moment.

[lovelytsunoda]

she sells sanctuary // charles leclerc (kinktober day 5!)

summary: she wasn’t expecting him to be home so soon. and now that he is, she can’t stand seeing him so exhausted. a warm shower should fix that, right?

paring: charles leclerc x female! reader

prompt: shower/bath sex

warnings; inappropriate use of a shower, sex in a shower, french pet names, kinda sorta p*rn without plot and goes from 0 to 100 real quick. definitely not my favourite of the kinktober blurbs, but i think it turned out alright save for the underwhelming ending.

she could tell charles had come home as soon as she got through the door. his suitcase was by the kitchen island, his designated airplane crocs strewn across the front hall. the sound of the shower travelling down the penthouse hallway.

but more so, the apartment felt happier.

smiling to herself, she began to walk down the hallway to the bathroom, first shedding her blazer, then her blouse and her skirt in a trail down the hallway, ending with her garter belt and stockings. she stood in front of the bathroom door in nothing but her baby blue lingerie set, gently pushing the door open and plunging headfirst into the steamy room.

she rapped on the foggy shower glass, capturing charles attention before she began to strip out of the clothing that remained on her body, her lovers eyes trained on her through a small space on the glass that he had wiped clear with the palm of his hand. she stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over her as she cupped Charles’ face.

“I’ve missed you, mon cher.”

charles leaned in and kissed her, water droplets falling off his skin and onto hers. “I’ve missed you more, mon ange. your voice, your laughter. your stunning body. the way you scream my name when I’m inside you.”

"you're home early."

charles shrugged. "i traded flights with max." he kissed her, warm water from the shower falling between their lips. "missed you too much."

"i'm glad you're home, my love." she looped her arms around charles neck, pressing her naked body up against his.

he kissed her softly, but the kiss didn't remain soft for long: her pebbled nipples pressing into his chest, his cock growing harder between their bodies, the warm water from the shower head pelting their bodies.

it felt eerily similar to their first kiss, which had happened mid-rainstorm.

mindful of the slippery shower floor, charles was careful in maneuvering her body so her front was pressed flush against the glass, breasts pressed up against the cool surface, hands leaving prints in the fog.

charles kissed the back of her neck, his lips warm against her cool skin, not quite acclimated to the temperature in the bathroom. she hummed under his touch, barely audible over the sound of the rain head.

"can i have you, mon amour? show you how much i missed you?"

"yes, charles. please."

charles slid into her gently, not wanting their little escapade to land them both in the emergency room, trying to justify their broken bones. not only that, but he truly wanted to show the love of his life just how much he had missed her body, and how much he treasures her.

“oh, cha.” she breathed gently, cheek pressed against the glass as she moved her head to the side, humming at his deep, gentle strokes. “fuck, I’ve missed this.”

“I know, cherie. I haven’t been treating you right. but I’m here now.” charles said reverently, holding her hip as he thrust into her again, a little quicker this time.

she moaned against him, back pressed to his chest and warm water streaming down both of their bodies. she’d missed the way he filled her up, made her feel giddy with lust.

“god, I’ve missed this feeling.” she breathed, whimpering as her lovers cock scraped against her walls. “missed having you near me. touching me. my fingers aren’t enough.”

"don't worry, angel. i'm here now, whenever you want me you just need to say the word. that's what i'm here for."

she moaned again, clenching around charles' member as he continued to thrust inside of her, squeezing her hips tightly, skin smacking into skin.

"charles, i think-" she couldn't finish the sentence, panting and out of breath as she moaned again, her walls clamping down on her lover.

"it's okay." charles soothed, lips against her skin and he breathed the words. "i've got you."

she came with a cry of his name, soaking his cock with the evidence of her climax. she was exhausted, but still craved more. needed more.

charles slipped out of her quickly, and she watched as he jerked his cock a few times, enough to send his seed spilling out over the shower floor and down the drain.

"well, i don't think this shower got you any cleaner." she said softly, nibbling on her bottom lip. "but if we head to the bed for another round and get even dirtier, you could have another one later?"

charles laughed, kissing her forehead before turning off the shower head. "i'd like that very much. have to make up for how much i missed you, ma cherie."

[raisindave]

[Chapter 77] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

Desertion is a lot easier than you'd expect. You were never one for skipping school, but there's something of a rush to it. Like you're in a place you're not allowed to be, all while being exactly where you're supposed to be. Of course, these consequences are a little more dire than skipping math class in high school; you're abandoning your post. Desertion is a crime punishable by dishonourable discharge or worse. But how does that charge fare when you aren't even actively deployed to begin with? Where's the dishonour in acting on your own free will as an unbound, non-working citizen? Laswell never specifically said your vacation had to take place in that hotel. 

Luckily for you, tickets to California are easy to come by in Korea. Tourism and business go hand in hand between the two nations, and express flights seem to be given out like candy. Luckier yet, it doesn't have to be a round trip. The ATM let you take out the cash you'd use to pay for your ticket, and the lady at the desk didn't even lift her gaze when she took the envelope. Only thumbing through the stack and flipping a boarding pass into your palm. 

Security was tougher than you remember; you'd become so used to express personnel travel due to being on some internationally recognized task force. You aren't operating under the borrowed trust organizations like the SAS get when it comes to airport security. Now, you're subject to beeping wands and plastic trays for your shoes. The sky was dark and full of stars out the slanted windows, and in the beaming glint of your phone, you chose to preemptively activate the airplane mode, settling with anxiously tapping your feet in anticipation for your row to be called. 

A plain hoodie and sweats will help you blend in, filling in shoulder-to-shoulder with hoodies and suit jackets alike onto a broad, carpeted fuselage. There are no grey-green woven hammocks to sling your packs, substituted with tidy cabin cubbies that keep your black backpack out of view. Bench-like iron seats were replaced by cushioned upholstered recliners, if you can call them recliners, with seatback displays that read as surreal compared to what you're used to. Stewardesses with colourful neckties pour bubbling drinks in a thimble-sized plastic cup. Do they pin you as someone who'd committed desertion? Do they recognize the scruff of someone in the military? Or does this casual hoodie and groggy disposition sell the story? None of them seem to notice, pushing their rattling carts down the aisle to pawn more thimble-sized cups to the next guest. 

If you're honest with yourself, you were never really in tune with pop culture even before your deployment, but its absence suddenly sparked interest in your heart. Third installments of movies you'd never even heard of, it's like pop culture had been on pause. Flicking through the categories, you'd settle for anything. Anything but a romance, as your finger hovered over a cheesy poster of a woman embracing a towering man in black with a waterfall of red silk around her, turned to the camera with a wicked, knowing grin. A mocking grin that tinged your eyes misty. They were both looking at you through the screen, taunting you like they'd won, satisfied by your deficiency of their connection. They knew they had what you'd tasted that once. You ran away, and they stayed, and look how happy they are. You clicked away, you had to. Clicked off the pixelated poster to some shitty action movie that you could surrender to a couple hours of violent oblivion. 

At some point, you somehow fell asleep to all the gunfire and explosions rattling through those cheap headphones. Maybe that's an indication of a larger issue. Either way, a dinging seatbelt light altered you to an upcoming landing, and just like that, you were in home territory. Something about this career makes the world feel so small. After all, you're always only a few hours away from anywhere in the world if you really think about it. It makes you think about that first flight you made this way, that first flight over the Yellow Sea that brought you to that snowy bunker where you met this gaggle of Brits. That cake Soap and Gaz made you as an apology. How intimidated you were of Ghost. Those nukes you confiscated and the look Price gave you when he realized your potential. It stung your heart with a bittersweet twang of humour.

Even the air in the bustling airport feels familiar. Luckily, you have no luggage to check. Yellow taxis sit like ducks in neat rows along multi-lane streets; an unfriendly-looking cab driver didn't blink twice when you slipped in the back seat and blurted out a street address you were surprised you remembered. Joints ached from travel, and your temples seized from the change in the climate. It'll take you some time to climatize, but it's nothing you're not used to doing. Only now did it occur to you what the rest of your group might be thinking. Had they noticed? You had the benefit of the doubt that you'd just retired for an early night's rest, you had a solid 8-hour lead. How long would it take them to notice you'd slinked away? They're probably off to that task with Farah Soap mentioned, and Laswell's likely in tow with her nose in a folder and a puffy vest on her shoulders. 

You're in the cab on your way home, and now there's one thing left to do. Knowing him, Chucky's the kind of guy who'll answer any unknown caller's number without a second thought— as psychopathic as that is. The contact your friend provided sat in your text messenger, a line of blue numbers just a tap away. With your stomach in a knot, you pressed your thumb to the glass, and the screen went dark. Lifting the device to your ear, it rang, and rang, and rang, until a familiar voice grumpily answered, and you weepily blubbered out a response. 

When he recognized your voice, you could hear the sound of the chair he was in creak as he shot upright, and you showered each other in greetings and praise. You were only a few minutes into complaining about work, telling the story in chronological order as best you could without compromising any secretive details. Babbling on about your lack of recognition, your tedious tasks, and your unsettling vacation to the tune of a rattling speaker playing pop music from the driver up front. The more you speak, the more agitated you became. Spewing rants about duties and frustrations and extreme expectations for no reward, heaving to catch your breath as the windows misted around you when all of a sudden, his stern tone snapped you out of your trance, and for a moment, you blinked in confusion.  

"Do you hear yourself, Lua?"

His words stunned you for a moment, pressing your phone closer to your ear as if you didn't hear him right. A breathy laugh from the speaker made your face contort into a frustrated cringe. How can he laugh at you right now?

"Lua, the answer is obvious, but you won't want to hear it," he spoke past through a smile, you could just hear it through the phone.

"What do you mean obvious?"

Now he'd gone silent in a cruel twist of fate. Even still, it was like he was stifling a laugh behind that speaker as if he saw something blatantly visible to anyone but you. 

"My love, do you think this career is right for you?

That sentence stunned you. So much so that you could feel the humid air dance over your teeth from your agape mouth. You squinted in confusion, and then your mouth twisted into a laugh. The words registered as cohesive, but the absurdity clicked more plainly. 

"I can't just quit because I'm not getting a kiss on the forehead every time I do my job," you started, twirling the pull-string of your hoodie around your finger. 

"Is that how you really feel?"

The cabin had run so silent even the cab driver's eyes flickered to meet yours through the rearview mirror.

"It's okay to admit you're not satisfied," Chucky's voice grew soft and paternal. "Settling with something that makes you miserable is giving up, not the act of dropping it. Demand respect for yourself because you're the only one who will. That's life."

"What am I supposed to do then? The military is my whole identity…"

"You don't have to know all the answers right away, just work with what you know."

"What will they do without me? I can't just drop out on a dime," your voice cracked, inexplicably closing your throat as a wall of repressed emotions surfaced. 

"The military is like a wall… remove one brick, and the wall still stands. There's no shortage of linguists in NATO."

“SAS… or…CIA, I think."

"CIA? Aren't you RCAF?" he spoke into the slightly echoed sound of what must be a mug of coffee. 

"It's complicated… I stopped asking questions long ago."

"'Seems like you should know that kind of thing," he sounded irritated by your laissez-faire attitude. 

"It's hard to sit down and ask about your professional affiliations when you're dressed up as a hooker on a mob yacht," the words oozed past your lips into the device, a lullaby you'd told yourself for years to keep yourself sane.

"What?" 

An uncomfortable pause had wedged itself into the conversation. A pause, you didn't have the wherewithal to unravel the necessary context to make that sentence make sense to him. The musty air in the cabin made your blood run thick and lethargic. 

"I just can't wait to be home. I need to see something that's authentic."

"There's something else."

"Hm?" you humm absentmindedly.

"You wouldn't come tearing home in a tizzy over an overdue vacation."

The words wouldn't manifest. Not only on your lips but not in your brain either. The taxi's bobbing over potholes fought for your attention as the cabin's rhythm rattled your brain. What if Ghost thinks you're quitting because of your little spat? Well, that's part of it… well, that's a significant portion of it, but in reality it's just a branch from the same roots: overworked, unacknowledged, isolated and indolent. This isn't what you signed up for. It's not what you're honed for. Months of mantras carefully hummed to yourself in iambic pentameter that twist your experience into something sweeter than it is—distorting your own honest perception. For what? Your teammates? A sense of greater good? What's kept you complacent enough to persist?

"I-" a sigh forced itself into your lungs. "Let's have a sit-down and chat about this… I'll be home in ten."

Chucky's never been the kind of guy you can keep secrets from. Worst yet, the longer you know him, the better he gets at sussing out the slightest lie in a story. He's observant. It's annoying. There are some things he doesn't have to know, some relationships and drama that he doesn't have to be privy to. But he pries it from you nonetheless, and the kicker is that it always feels relieving to unburden yourself. Even if it isn't something you would've come forward about willingly. It's not a matter of if but when he finds out about your dilemma with Ghost. Maybe he doesn't have to be privy to everything about that relationship. 

Your eyes drifted to the lawns around your neighbourhood. Yours had been kept up with, some HOA or other had been strongarmed into handling it by the powers-that-be. Lawns… when's the last time you'd seen a lawn? When's the last time you'd seen a minivan? A cul-de-sac? It felt alien to be alien, like you're not supposed to be out of place here. Soon enough, Chucky will come barging through your door with a multicoloured bouquet, and you'll think about how they don't look cheap anymore, but like they're exploding with joy- innocent glee like that from the eyes of a lover, not those of a fighter. Except he is a fighter. He'd served longer than you, and he has the wisdom of age with the compassion of experience. Maybe you won't have to quit after all, and this reset will knock your gears back into line. Smoother than ever. You'll don that uniform and slip back into Laswell's graces. Send her a text that you're on your way back after a night or two in your own bed. It's not like she won't know you've left; you're not sly enough to outfox her. Yet.

Eventually the taxi dropped you off, wordlessly passing the payment terminal and tearing off without another word. When you get in your house, you'll have a world of cleaning to expect. And you were right. From what you remember, the familiar squeal of your front door had reached a new octave, but that's expected, welcoming, from ages of not being used. It's like a dog squealing with excitement to welcome you home, a tune exclusive to your ears. Mail crunched under your sneakers, a perfect shoeprint over flyers and coupons now months expired. 

The air was thick with dust, thicker the more you stirred. The distantly familiar routine didn't take long to resurface in your synapses, flinging your coat around wiry hangers, kicking off rigid new sneakers to lay at its base. Dead plants lay in coiled husks like rooted tumbleweeds, sunbleached and stark. From the look of things, your work is cut out for you. Do you dust, vacuum, or start with a dustpan and broom? It's the kind of plights you craved. The kinds you missed out on. Sure, it's gross, and clouds of dust erupt from wads of blankets when you sit on your couch, but a familiar smell brought sugar-sweet memories to coat the back of your eyelids. 

The fridge was what you dreaded most. Did you leave anything in there? It's probably so mouldy it's become sentient by now. Before you left, you did some cooking before you were deployed again, as far as you can remember. And the couch sure is comfortable once you get past the powdery dust that gathers between your knuckles. Anticipation got the better of you though, and curiosity bubbled beyond your own containment. Your knees creaked when you rose, but you eventually made your way to the kitchen. Maybe you can guilt Chucky into helping you clean, but at the very least, you should tidy up a place to sit and spill your guts about how you may or may not have briefly fallen head-over-heels with your lieutenant, or something of the sort. 

There's that wooden archway you'd bodyslammed into on dozens of drunken nights, paired with a few dents that were consequences of lazily carrying a laundry basket. Through the arch, you beheld a sight so bizarre you couldn't even compel your muscles to draw you closer. But you did. Sat on your counter surrounded by a level ocean of dust sat a vase. A crystal vase, ridged and etched with lavish geometric patterns cast ribbons of light through the lacy curtain across the room. Green stems, straight and trimmed, connected to the most elegant bouquet. Virgin blue roses in perfect coils, fragrant enough to reach you before you could touch them. It felt like a dream, but your senses deceived you. Their cobalt finish challenged your optical perceptions and upended all logic. Velvety petals, smooth and light as your fingertips drag through them. Panic. These hollowed grounds you'd called home aren't safe. This sacred place is corrupted. It's a sickening, nauseating panic. Like the antichrist in a cathedral. Like a wolf in a pasture. Sickening anticipation and your heels turn on a swivel. By the time your knees lowered into a grounding stance, those familiar redwood floors were screaming toward you, and everything went silent.

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Master List

[itsthatlake]

Shen Yuan transmigrated as a Spirit Cat AU (part 2)

First chapter.

---

The rest of the examination, all dutifully narrated by Mu Qingfang, passed in something of a blur comprised mostly of internal screaming and a great deal of cursing, and he only came back to reality when he was picked up by a pair of warm hands.

Shen Yuan flinched and looked up at the man who could only be Liu Qingge, the War God of Bai Zhan and older brother of Best Wife, Liu Mingyan. Living proof that this was a time before the protagonist joined Qing Jing Peak.

Liu Qingge died by Shen Qingqiu’s hand sometime around then, after all.

“Come on,” he said, easily settling Shen Yuan on the crook of his arm and starting to walk like this was an established routine of many years instead of something that had happened twice so far and once under duress.

Distracted as he was, Shen Yuan didn’t bother to question it until they were already flying on— on Cheng Luan again. This sword was as cool as he had imagined, now that he looked at it properly. He smacked Liu Qingge’s arm with his paw until he got his attention, then meowed in question.

Liu Qingge stared for a second before seemingly realizing what he was asking.

“We’re going to see the sect leader, Yue Qingyuan,” he explained. “I need to give him my mission report. And inform him of your presence on the mountain.”

“Meow?”

“Cang Qiong has a rule about bringing in any Spirit Cats that we find. For protection,” Liu Qingge clarified, giving him an unreadable look. “There aren’t many left, so Spirit Cats sell high in many circles. None that our sect supports, of course.”

Huh. Shen Yuan hadn’t known that, even after jogging his memory post realizing which world this is.

He remembered Colored Claw Spirit Cats being mentioned in one of the later chapters of PIDW, something about how they had all gone extinct because of human greed and whatnot. He thinks it might have been wife #629 who complained about how tragic it was to Luo Binghe before the protagonist comforted her with his tried-and-true heavenly pillar. In hindsight, that was probably the last bit of actual worldbuilding Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had given them before deciding to write terrible papapa and needlessly convoluted harem shenanigans for the next sixty or so chapters before the end of the novel.

What Shen Yuan hadn’t known, however, was that Cang Qiong Mountain Sect actively rescued and protected Spirit Cats. Of course, with the sect long since destroyed and most of the Peak Lords dead or integrated into the harem and promptly abandoned, there was no reason whatsoever for that to come up at that point in the novel.

Regardless, it was an interesting detail of this world, as well as an incredibly convenient fact for him now.

“Liu Qingge,” Liu Qingge said abruptly. Shen Yuan blinked at him, watching the red slowly creep up his ears with slight fascination. Woah. He even blushed prettily, how unfair. “My name. It’s Liu Qingge. I realized I didn’t introduce myself earlier.”

Oh, that was very polite of him. Which was a little strange coming from the guy who chased him through a village for almost four hours earlier that day and who he just saw kick his shidi’s office door in for no real reason. Shen Yuan huffed, then rubbed his face on the man’s arm, purring pleasantly.

“Hmm. Do you have a name?”

“Meow!”

“I see.”

What do you see? Shen Yuan wanted to ask, genuinely confused as to what Liu Qingge thought he understood. Alas, for lack of the vocal cords necessary for human speech, he just settled back down instead and decided to enjoy the ride.

Flying was kind of fun, he was learning.

---

Yue Qingyuan met Shen Yuan’s sudden presence on his mountain with a not inconsiderable amount of polite confusion.

Then, after Liu Qingge explained the situation, including the results of Mu Qingfang’s examination that Shen Yuan had missed almost entirely and was thus glad to hear summarized now, the sect leader just rolled with it with as much grace as his character in the novel took anything unrelated to Shen Qingqiu.

So far, Shen Yuan’s first impression of the sect leader was very much in line with what he already knew from PIDW.

Afterwards, Yue Qingyuan helpfully elaborated on Cang Qiong’s policy on Spirit Cats that Liu Qingge had mentioned earlier. Apparently, the claws of adult Spirit Cats sold very high among a significant number of cultivator circles because of their special properties, and the declawed creatures were usually sold as ‘exotic pets’ to nobles, where they would inevitably die from either improper care or health issues brought on by the loss of their claws. If caught by the wrong people, young Spirit Cats like himself would most likely be caged and tortured to quicken the awakening of their special abilities.

Because of this massive traffic that was both somehow legal and absolutely horrid to think about, the number of Spirit Cats left had been on the decline for many decades now, and none had reached a point in their cultivation where they could take a human form in over three centuries, as far as anyone was aware.

Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, as well as a number of other sects, strictly forbade the abuse of Spirit Cats and the use of their claws to further their cultivation, as well as offered sanctuary for any that they found in the wild or rescued.

“It has been many years since the last time a Spirit Cat resided in Cang Qiong,” Yue Qingyuan said regretfully, tone somber. “When this lord was still head disciple, he had the privilege to meet with one. Master Zhou’s meridians had unfortunately been crippled before he came to our sect, so he never managed to cultivate to a human form despite achieving immortality. This one was told that he was the youngest of a trio of siblings who were rescued together, but that his older sisters had already been declawed and thus did not manage to survive long even in our care. Lan Qingyi, the current Lord of the Shan Shou Peak, was the one who took care of Master Zhou during his final years.”

Listening to Yue Qingyuan’s recounting felt like a bucket of cold water had been dropped on him. All the terrible, horrible things that had made PIDW’s worldbuilding engaging were now real. It was his reality, and that of the people who were here now and had been here before him. The reality of Master Zhou who in the end was unable to reach Ascension, of his sisters who suffered so much and died long before their time. It caused Shen Yuan’s fur to stand on end as he listened to the sect leader speak.

However.

It also felt a little bit like hope. Because, see, for every trafficker out there, for every cruel bastard out to get his kind, there was also a person willing to protect them. Willing to give Spirit Cats a place where they could grow and live peacefully. 

And those people were here, in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, offering him that help now as well.

Huan Hua Palace, on the other hand, was perfectly fine with capturing Spirit Cats and using them as they saw fit. There were even rumors that the Old Palace Master had kept one or two declawed Spirit Cats as pets not so long ago.

Needless to say, Shen Yuan had dodged a massive bullet there. It was nothing short of a miracle that Liu Qingge was the one the villagers asked for help and not a cultivator from Huan Hua Palace, seeing as it was literally their territory.

Shen Yuan had seen Huan Hua Palace disciples flying around, for fuck’s sake.

Liu Qingge’s other hand had come up to rest lightly on top of him at some point during the story and Shen Yuan silently leaned into it, rubbing his cheek against his palm in an instinctual, soothing motion as he tried to burrow his body deeper into the crook of his arm.

“This conversation has taken a dark turn, my apologies,” said Yue Qingyuan softly, when the silent became too heavy. “I’m afraid that this topic is not one that can be avoided for long and it is better to be aware of the dangers sooner rather than later. This master would like to formally extend Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s protection to the esteemed spirit, as well as an invitation to stay here for however long he wishes.”

Shen Yuan meowed quietly in agreement, and watched as the sect leader smiled gently at him. Then the man nodded, reaching for a brush and some paper.

“We’ll need to record your arrival and arrange everything for your stay,” he informed them. Even if the heavy thoughts lingered in his mind, for now the dark atmosphere seemed to have lifted as they moved onto another topic, for which Shen Yuan was grateful.

Yue Qingyuan paused, as if only now remembering something, and looked up at them curiously.

“Ah. We require a name for the paperwork. Since it was Liu-shidi who found and brought him to the sect, perhaps he could name the esteemed spirit as well?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Liu Qingge shook his head.

“He already has a name,” he informed solemnly.

“Oh?” Yue Qingyuan raised his eyebrows, looking expectantly at him. Shen Yuan also stared, wondering what he would answer. He obviously never told him his name and he was certain that the War God couldn’t read minds.

(Well. Mostly certain, anyway. Great Master Airplane was hardly reliable when it came to developing characters who weren’t wives or Luo Binghe past a certain point in the novel, or any characters at all past another point just slightly ahead in the novel, and Shen Yuan wouldn’t be surprised if he’d somehow forgotten to mention such an important aspect of this awesome character that he’d killed off-screen.

Would he be angry? Of course. Disappointed by the wasted potential? Most definitely. But surprised? After reading that whole godawful story? Ha! As if. Shen Yuan knew exactly what he was in for when he paid for each chapter.)

“He did not tell me what it is,” said the man who, as expected, could not read minds.

Liu Qingge! Shen Yuan cried in his mind, a little exasperated.

“Ah. Of course,” said the sect leader, smiling politely at both of them. He looked like he wanted to sigh but was too polite to do so and had instead defaulted to smiling. “However, I still need a name for the report. Until he can tell us his name, how does the esteemed spirit feel about having a nickname?”

Liu Qingge frowned at the same time that Shen Yuan perked up.

“A nickname?”

“Yes. Something simple and easy to remember that we can use in the meantime.”

Shen Yuan meowed pointedly, tapping Liu Qingge in the arm. The man just stared back silently, clearly deep in thought, before he nodded.

“The children at the village called him Xiao Maomi,” he declared.

“Xiao Maomi?” Yue Qingyuan repeated, looking at Shen Yuan for confirmation.

Shen Yuan considered it. It was very on the nose for a nickname, likely because it was a bunch of little kids who thought of it in the first place, but ‘little kitty’ wasn’t too terrible all things considered. He could have gotten stuck with a name like Doudou or Danhuang. Now that would have been embarrassing.

Therefore, he meowed positively. It was only temporary anyways so he didn’t care much.

Yue Qingyuan smiled politely, reaching for a brush. “Very well. We’ll put ‘Xiao Maomi’ down in the paperwork for now. It can always be changed at a later date.”

While Yue Qingyuan wrote, Shen Yuan looked up at Liu Qingge, considering. Then he wiggled out from under Liu Qingge’s hand, earning himself a curious look that he ignored, and used his claws to quickly climb up his arm and settle on the man’s shoulder, head resting on the collar of his robes.

The reason why the children of the village had taken to calling him ‘little kitty,’ as opposed to only ‘kitty,’ was immediately obvious to anybody with working eyes. This body of his was quite small even for an average cat’s, even a kitten’s, which had worked in his favor while he was sneaking around the village and against him during fights.

Shen Yuan had originally attributed this to a lack of proper nutrition coupled with a young age, but even after months of stealing food he remained around the same size. Now he wondered if maybe it had something to do with him being a Colored Claw Spirit Cat. He made a mental note to find more information on them later.

Right now, however, his small body meant that he was the perfect size to lay down on Liu Qingge’s shoulders and not have to worry about falling, something he intended to take full advantage of.

Liu Qingge huffed quietly, but made no moves to stop Shen Yuan.

Eventually, the sect leader set down his brush and looked back at them with a considering expression.

“In regards to Maomi-xiansheng’s new living arrangements,” he began lightly. “Normally, all Spirit Cats would be sent to the Shan Shou Peak where they’d be able to settle down and live their lives comfortably. However, Peak Lord Lan is currently in seclusion, and this master is uncertain whether any of her disciples are equipped to house and care for Maomi-xiansheng, as they are all quite young and inexperienced still.”

Ah, Shan Shou Peak, the Beast Taming Peak. One of many places that only got one or two lines when Luo Binghe joined and later destroyed Cang Qiong in PIDW. Shen Yuan had always been curious about this particular peak and all the (obviously wasted) potential it held, something he had ranted about on many occasions in the comment section. Infuriatingly, that hack author had once replied to one of his comments with, “okay okay chill dude, I’ll describe more of the sect in the next chapter,” and then spent six whole paragraphs describing Xian Shu Peak’s bathhouse and all the shijies in it.

Shen Yuan had never genuinely considered murder in his past life, but by god did he get close that day. He was sure his comment, written in a fugue state of pure rage, had reflected that.

“Doesn’t Lan Qingyi have Hall Masters on her peak?” Liu Qingge said, and though Shen Yuan couldn’t exactly see his expression from his position, he got the impression that the man was scowling as he said that.

“I believe they are occupied caring for all the creatures already in-house and teaching the disciples during Lan-shimei’s absence,” Yue Qingyuan answered, tone as close to exasperated as possible while still remaining polite. “Lan-shimei’s approach to her duties as Peak Lord is very different to Liu-shidi’s, after all.”

Shen Yuan had no idea what that was about, but he could almost feel the self-restraint it took Liu Qingge not to huff. The sect leader continued before he could question it.

“Nonetheless, with Shan Shou Peak not being an option, Maomi-xiansheng will need another place to stay, at least until Lan-shimei is back. Since it was Liu-shidi who brought him here, perhaps he wouldn’t mind housing Maomi-xiansheng until then?”

“En,” Liu Qingge nodded, after a moment of thought. “I do not mind.”

Yue Qingyuan smiled in response.

“Thanking shidi.”

And thus, Shen Yuan moved in with Liu Qingge.

[planetadaa]

Strategies for Making Informed Aircraft Acquisition Decisions

Efficiently select and purchase your next aircraft. Visit-https://planetadaa.com/aviation-aircraft-consultation

[bellatrixobsessed1]

20km

Summary: Regina and Emma celebrate the holidays by taking Henry to see the northern lights

Their boarding passes read seats 3B, 3C, and 19A.

Regina doesn’t like this and demands to speak to the manager. 

Emma tells her that it’s okay and she doesn’t mind going back to row 19.

“But we booked in advance. I paid extra for that seat.”

Emma shoots the passenger assistant a sympathetic look. “Sorry, she’s a little…very stressed.” She turns her attention back to Regina, “that old woman needs to be in row C more than we do, I mean she’s got a walker!” 

Regina folds her arms across her chest and grumbles something about how airlines should really figure this stuff out ahead of time instead of twenty minutes prior to boarding. Sometimes Regina falls back on old habits. She gets fussy and grumpy and really demanding. This is especially true when she is faced with high stress, fast-paced situations. Throw in a bunch of flashing Christmas lights, a a noisy crowd, and multiple in-airport vendors all shouting for attention at the same time and Regina is completely on edge.

“You aren’t going to be mean to that old lady for the whole flight, are you, Gina?”

“I’m not mean. And I’m not going to be mean.” Regina folds her arms across her chest.

“I’m guessing that that airport worker would disagree.”

“I wasn’t being mean! I was being firm.” Regina flashes a smug smile.

“Sometimes I think that you aren’t aware of how your tone sounds.” Emma pauses and flinches. “For example, I just realized that what I just said sounded kind of rude…” To her surprised, Regina laughs. 

But that laugh is short lived. “I think that sometimes I don’t…” 

“It’s fine, Regina. Let’s just try to enjoy our vacation.”

“I’ll enjoy it when I’m on it.” Regina pauses. She clears her throat. “The vacation, of course, doesn’t start until after the flight is through with.”

“Okay, fair enough.” 

She glances over her shoulder. “Where is Henry? He should be back by now.” She is starting the foot tapping thing now. “It doesn’t take that long to go order a chicken wrap; what if he’s lost?”

“It’s pretty busy right now.”

“Airports are always busy.” Regina wraps her arms around herself and seems to scan the entire airport—the portions of it in the immediate vicinity that is.

“We are traveling during the holiday season.” Emma reminds her. “It’s definitely going to take a lot longer.” She pauses. “Anyways, you have your magic and your smoke clouds, I can’t imagine that you’ve flown much. Especially living in a cursed town that no one can leave.” Emma quirks a brow.

“Yes, I suppose.” Regina mumbles with a glance at the clock. 

“Why don’t I get you a cup of coffee? There's a little shop over there.”

Regina shakes her head. “Coffee is the last thing that I need right now.” 

“A cup of tea? Hot chocolate?”

“A gingerbread man that is bigger than your face?” Henry offers. 

“Henry!? You said that you were going to get a…”

“Chicken wrap? I know, I know but that was before I saw the massive cookies that they were selling! I was going back and forth between the chocolate chip cookie and the sugar cookie but then I saw the leviathan gingerbread man!”

“That is a whole lot of gingerbread man.” Emma whispers. She finds herself in awe of it, really. 

“Just how do you expect to finish that before we board the plane?” Regina quirks a brow.

“With help from my moms, duh!” 

“Don’t mind if I do!” Emma declares. She glances at Regina. “It will keep me quiet for a while.” 

Regina rolls her eyes but her attempts to thwart their efforts to finish that gingerbread man in one sitting had stopped. They had even convinced her to have a chunk of its gingerbread head. And with four minutes to spare they had eaten the last gumdrop. And then Regina is making herself as comfortable as possible in an airplane seat with her head propped up against a window and Henry leaning against her.

.oOo.

The ticket reads 20km.

Regina is nervous about getting cold in the middle of the ride. 

Emma reminds her that the ticket came with proper winter attire to rent.

“I don’t like wearing other people’s clothing.”

“You wear mine all the time.” Emma reminds her.

“That’s different, Emma. I know you. I’m used to the way that your clothes fit me, I’m used to their fabrics, I’m used to the way that they smell.” She pauses. “I knew that I should have packed more.”

“This trip is about getting out of your comfort zone a little, remember?”

She does. 

But this doesn’t feel like a little.

Regina had warned Emma that this trip was going to be very difficult for her. 

Emma had assured her that it would be no problem but that doesn’t stop her from worrying that she will be on the woman’s last nerve by the end of it. God forbid she ruins it for Henry. They had chosen to come to Rovaniemi specifically for him. 

He wants to meet Santa even if he knows that the real Santa lurks somewhere in a realm like the Enchanted Forest. He insists that he loves Earth’s mundane magics. And Regina doesn’t want to shatter that for him again.

“Trust me, Regina, once we meet all of those dogs, you will forget all about it!”

“I hope so, Emma.”

“Ready, moms?” Henry asks. He is tugging his own pair of rented mittens on.

“They’re really clean.” Emma remarks of her mittens. “I can smell the laundry detergent.”

Regina nods. “As long as they aren’t made of wool.” 

“They’re really comfy, mom. And warm.” Henry remarks. 

Regina slips the gloves over her fingers and Emma slings an arm over her shoulder as their tour guides approach with their own teams of dogs. One of them, the woman the ombre dye job, informs them that the three of them will have their own sled and beckons them to come over and meet their team of dogs. 

She is introduced to Hilu, Jakki, Onni, and Arvo. Arvo is particularly spirited and likes to yelp and yap. Jakki and Onni are siblings who, apparently, refuse to pull a sled if they are not next to each other. Hilu requires head pats before and after every ride and so Regina finds herself rubbing the head of a husky. And then the heads of three envious huskies. 

She glances over at Emma who gives her a thumbs up as she climbs aboard her own sled.

Henry has taken to rolling around in the snow with his team of dogs. Regina smiles to herself and sneaks a quick photo. She slips her phone into her pocket and they are off.

Gliding across a sparkling landscape overwhich the sun hangs somewhat low in a pink sky. On the ground paws kick up clumps and clouds of powdery snow.

Regina can hear the crunch of the ice and the puffs of the dogs’ breath as they bound across the path that cuts through the forest. 

The wind against her face leaves her cheeks pink but it is rather exhilarating to have the lappland air in her lungs. And when they come to the treeline where the landscape opens up into an endless tundra, Regina finds that Emma is right; she isn’t thinking much of her coat and mittens at all. The dogs come to a halt and they pose for a photograph. 

There are splashes of orange and ribbons of gold in the sky now. Ribbons of gold that shine brightly enough to bathe the ground before them in remarkable hues. 

But truly nothing is as bright as Henry’s smile while he snuggles with four dogs. Nothing as bright as his smile when Emma tells him that the three of them will be eating dinner at the ice restaurant after their visit to Santa’s workshop. The one that will come with a chance to pet reindeer. 

Henry has been talking about the reindeer nearly as much as he has been talking about the huskies. 

Although the snow covered spruce trees are gorgeous with the twinkling icicle jewelry that they wear so well and the birds that titter in their branches, they can never look quite as lovely as Emma’s hair does with the sun’s golden rays thrown over it.

.oOo.

Their hotel room key reads ‘12’.

Although it isn’t really a room, it is more of a bubble. 

Emma flings herself down on the bed and Henry grins up at the sky above them.

It was his idea to stay in a glass igloo; he adores the night sky and he yearns to see it filled with glowing green lights. 

Is the igloo on the small side? Sure. But Emma finds that rather charming. Really she doesn’t think that she would enjoy a larger space. They are in their own little glass bubble with fuzzy carpeting and ambient reading reading lights. 

Henry finds himself a spot on his bed and draws his legs up to his chest. He had insisted on wearing a Christmas onesie. The one that Regina had assumed that he would no longer want to wear once he reached twelve years old. He isn’t quite there yet and he is still insistent that he will never outgrow it. Regina reminds him that he is very much about to go through a growth spurt. Emma remarks that he’ll just have to buy a bigger onesie. 

She thinks that the only thing that would make this mundane little conversation better would be a fireplace to go with their hot chocolate.

Regina finding a place in her lap will suffice. More than suffice. She nuzzles her cheek against Emma’s chest and closes her eyes. These days it is rather easy to forget that she is the Evil Queen. Especially when she wears her reading glasses. 

“Aren’t you going to stay awake to see if we can catch a glimpse of the northern lights?” 

Regina shakes her head. “We could be up until 3 in the morning.” 

“That’s part of the fun!” Emma declares. 

“For you. I got to bed at 10:30 exactly.” She replies. “I’m sure that you and Henry will wake me up if something special happens. 

Emma scoops her up and carries her to the bed. Henry rifles through the pages of one of his comics as Emma pulls the covers over she and Regina. Regina likes to sleep with one pillow beneath her head and a body pillow to cling to. Having no body pillows, she curls herself around Emma.

.oOo.

Regina is quite deep in her slumber when Emma gives her a good nudge or two. She feels the woman’s hands on her cheek, brushing the hair out of her face. Emma’s hand is warm. Emma’s hands are always warm. She rather crave the feeling of those hands wrapping around hers. It is a sense of soothing that she thankfully hasn’t needed since the airport. Not that she doesn’t take Emma’s hand anyways and cup it over her own. Emma knows what that means. 

“Put your coat on and let’s go look at the lights!” 

Regina shakes her head. “It’s cold out there and warm in here. That’s why we booked this hotel, so that I can enjoy the lights in warmth and comfort.” 

Henry has a completely different idea of a good time. He is already fully bundled and rushing for the door with his phone in hand.

“Don’t stay out there too long, kid!” Emma calls. 

“I won’t!” He promises and the door closes behind him. 

She knows that he will be out there for as long as the sky keeps glowing. She supposes that she won’t give him a hard time over it. She rolls herself onto her side and glances up at the sky. Emma pulls her closer and they stare in silence for quite some time. The gentle ebb and pulse is reflected on the frosted window panes. Emma massages Regina’s shoulders.

“You sure that you don’t want to join Henry outside? It would make for a nice family photo.”

That is certainly true. And it would be quite an extraordinary first page of their scrapbook. She hums to herself. “I suppose that we can…” 

Emma grins and sweeps her out of the bed. And with the enthusiasm and energy level of a child she begins tugging on Regina’s sleeve. “Well hurry up then! We don’t want to miss it while we get dressed!” 

But they don’t miss it. The celestial display carries on for a good ten minutes more leaving them with plenty of time to capture their photo. And plenty of time for Emma and Henry to have a small snowball fight beneath them. Regina is content to watch from the sidelines. 

The snowfall is light and people are steadily trickling out of their own glass igloos. She should have thought to fix herself a cup of tea to go with the show. Maybe she will slip back inside and do so.

Yes, she thinks that she will. 

It doesn’t take so long and she re-emerges with a cup of tea to warm her own hands and one for Emma and Henry. 

The steam wafting up is a nice contrast to the biting winter wind. 

The three of them stand by one another and stare at the sky until it dims once more. 

And then one by one everyone slips back into their igloos, still buzzing with and coming down from the highs of seeing something so breathtaking. Folds of green and bursts of red, will linger in her mind for quite a while. 

She watches Henry crawl back into bed and find his teddy bear. 

She knows that his dreams will be pleasant tonight. He sleeps with a soft smile on his face. 

Regina remains awake for a while more until Emma’s snoring lulls her to sleep as well.

[tossawary]

Shen Yuan’s “proof” that he’s straight is that he willingly read PIDW.

Yes, Shen Qingqiu insisted that he was still straight! His willingness to read a stallion novel like Proud Immortal Demon Way was rock-solid proof!

- SVSSS, Volume 3, Chapter 17

We could use this same logic to argue that a willingness to write a stallion novel like PIDW is rock-solid proof of straightness, but... uh... yeah. Shen Yuan tried to get Airplane Bro to be a little upset with him that Luo Binghe is gay now earlier and Airplane Bro just fucking shrugged.

The entire SQQ & SQH conversation in the underground palace Chapter 14 is pretty golden (“Since when did we have a friendship?” - Shang Qinghua about selling Shen Qingqiu out to Luo Binghe) and it’s tempting to copy all of it here, but I’ll limit myself to just a section of it:

“The stallion novel protagonist you wrote turned gay,” said Shen Qingqiu. “Shouldn’t you be angry?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shang Qinghua said sincerely. “Either way, the one he’s got his eye on isn’t me.”

Shen Qingqiu gave him a cordial middle finger, then looked back down to polish his sword.

Shang Qinghua gave him a thumbs-up. “Really, you don’t need to be so pessimistic. You have good prospects for the future, quite good prospects. Those golden thighs, they’re thick and sturdy, very reliable!”

“Take your fucking golden thighs,” said Shen Qingqiu. “At least those are just thighs. Where have I ended up? Between the thighs!”

“Between the thighs is even better, ah. A man’s most important object is between the thighs.”

If not for the fact that Xiu Ya had only just returned to Shen Qingqiu’s hands and he couldn’t bear to use it for filthy things, he really had the mind to slice off a chunk of that object between Shang Qinghua’s thighs.

- SVSSS, Volume 3, Chapter 14

I would personally not say that Airplane Bro sounds very straight here.

By the way, half of the underground palace gets destroyed later on, because Liu Qingge comes looking for Shen Qingqiu to rescue him (Shen Qingqiu has been kidnapped by Tianlang-Jun twice at this point). Liu Qingge tries to interrogate Sha Hualing but has difficulty beating up a woman and Sha Hualing is just difficult. Liu Qingge then runs into Shang Qinghua, who is apparently just chilling in the underground palace, and who spills all the beans immediately before Liu Qingge can hit him once, and then starts wailing about how he had not choice and he’ll mend his ways. Which, of course, summons Mobei-Jun to come to his rescue. Mobei-Jun and Liu Qingge get in a fight and Luo Binghe’s house gets halfway destroyed.

Which is, like, a side paragraph to explain how Liu Qingge showed up. The main SVSSS story, of course, features things like Tianlang-Jun asking if Shen Qingqiu has a preference for threesomes because of the Zhuzhi & Binghe thing and then the Qingge & Binghe thing. Incredible.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Hectic Travel Days with Carmy for @marroonwitch <3

2024 Holiday Blurbs

Airports are, in your humble opinion, one of the worst places on earth. They always make your anxiety increase tenfold, and everyone else is always in a sour mood as well. You do you best to avoid them, and whenever you do have to travel by airplane, you try your hardest to plan everything down to the second just to relieve some of your anxiety.

“Ok, our flight leaves at ten, so we have to get there by eight, so we should leave the house around seven to make sure we have enough time if we hit traffic,” you work out your plan for the morning for the millionth time while Carmy just nods along, happy to go along with your overplanning if it means you’ll be a little more relaxed.

“Wake up around six?” He asks, even though you’ve both been through this practically nonstop for the last few days, but you smile and nod anyway.

The next morning, everything goes off without a hitch. Sure, you’ve been firing on all cylinders since you woke up at six in the morning, but you make it to the airport with time to spare. You’re starting to relax a little, your heart beating at a somewhat normal pace and the knots in your stomach beginning to loosen. It’s a little strange, Carmy being the calm one, when you’re so used to being his anchor and his guiding light, but you can’t even fathom how anxious you’d be without him.

“Look how fast it’s moving, there’s nothing to worry about,” he says when you see the security line and stop dead in your tracks. You’d known the line would be long, had planned for the line to be long, but this is so absurd you almost wanted to laugh, at least to keep you from crying. You step into the line, your heartbeat ticking up and up and up, even as Carmy rubs the flat of his hand up and down your back, keeping you grounded.

As always, Carmy was right, and even though the security line took longer than you expected, it moved fast and you made it through with plenty of time to spare, more than enough time to find your gate and then grab some water and snacks for the flight. The hardest part is over, you think to yourself as you grab your belongings from the conveyor belt, until you check your phone.

“They moved our gate,” you tell Carmy with disbelief, the anxiety rising in you like a tidal wave. You hate this feeling, being so out of control, and there’s nothing you can do to calm yourself down, you just have to ride out the storm.

“You wanna find the new gate and I’ll get us some waters?” Carmy asks as he finishes making sure he didn’t leave anything in the security bins. You nod, and he presses a kiss to your forehead before setting off towards one of the many little shops that sell drinks and snacks and sweatshirts no one ever buys, while you head off to try and find the gate. You keep glancing between your phone and the gates, trying to keep your breathing in check.

When you finally find the gate, it’s like a weight has been lifted off your chest, the crushing feeling in your ribs lessening by the second. Carmy’s close behind you, with bottles of water and a bag of your favorite candy that he slips into your backpack without comment, knowing that the sugar and the familiarity will do you good.

Even with all the added chaos, you have time to spare before boarding, and you feel a little dramatic now that everything’s worked out, even though you know you can’t really help it, and you know that Carmy understands, that he’d never hold your excessive planning or high tension against you. When you find the candy halfway through the flight, you’re more grateful than ever to have Carmy by your side.

[quinnlarrabee]

Palo santo 101

Before you click play on the audio recording and blithely ignore the written guide, be sure to review the important science-based charts and insight-rich visuals sprinkled throughout it.

If you’ve ever walked into a party hosted by someone under 40 in Brooklyn, Lisbon, California, Condesa or Roma Norte, or Venice Beach and not smelled palo santo, then you probably had covid. Over the past decade palo santo has become the official scent of good vibes. It is an olfactory assurance for anyone who recognizes the scent that conversation will be limited to polyamory, regional burns, and adaptogen supplements. Despite the fact that no one ever doesn’t want to smell palo santo, it’s important to know when to use it and when to relegate your surroundings to their default odor. This guide will ensure that you know exactly how to make the most of the palo santo you carry in the shoulder bag you purchased at the Sant Jordi flea market in Ibiza during the off-season.

Like most cultural appropriations, no one who burns palo santo knows what it is, where it came from, why they use it, or why it’s even called palo santo. Let’s uncover the facts. 

Bursera Graveolens is a tree native to the dry tropical forests of South America. Its discovery by white people dates back to 1972 at a now defunct swingers resort in Quito, Ecuador, where a guest from New Jersey named Paulo Santonicola noticed a stick with a burning ember on the end of giving off a fetid, wispy trail of smoke. He pointed at the burning stick and asked the guy holding the cocaine tray, who would now be called a consent educator, “por que?”

“Plaga,” he replied, and gnashed his teeth and made a flapping-wing motion with the hand not holding the cocaine tray. Paulo brought the wood back to his central New Jersey home as a last-ditch effort to ward off the deer that were eating the tomatoes in his garden. He started burning the wood around the clock in the steamy summer of 1972, during which he and his girlfriend hosted dozens of play parties. 

“I didn’t care if people at my parties had a problem with the smell,” recounted Paulo. “Those frickin’ deer were jumping my fence and chewing through wire to eat my tomatoes. When I caught a whiff of that wood down in Quito, I thought, ‘they won’t come near my garden if I burn this shit.’” 

Mr. Santonicola had achieved some level of notoriety in the adult film industry in the early 1970s, and his parties were well attended by neo-hippies, the disco elite and the first generation of yoga professionals. Over the course of the summer, a pavlovian association formed between the scent of the wood and casual sex, and his friends started asking him for sticks so that they could take the vibe home with them. At the sunset of his porn career, he saw an opportunity not only to rebrand his legacy, distancing himself from grainy adult films with problematic titles, but also to make oceans of cash: import the wood and sell it through his readymade network of yoga instructors under his stage name, Palo Santo. 

Palo santo’s ubiquity today grew from its two foundational use cases: repelling pests and masking the odor of too many naked bodies in poorly ventilated New Jersey basements. Palo santo is still used today as a repellent of sorts to ward off bad vibes and people who do not use the word vibe in place of most nouns at the end of a question, such as scene, weather, temperature, culture, menu, rules, culture, law, opinion, suggested attire, relationship status, sexual proclivity, net worth and so on. It is also still used during group sex, but only when the group sex is intentional and/or ceremonial. There are many other ways, however, that you can improve the vibes of the world through the smoke of this wood, which was recently added to IUCN’s Red List of “near threatened” species, making it even more important to burn palo santo as a way of calling attention to its growing scarcity. 

Airplanes 

For a brief, blissful period during the pandemic, the only people who traveled were intrepid hipsters who had already contracted the virus and been instrumental in scaling it to global significance through music festivals, long-distance polycules and global nomadism. Commercial airlines from the spring of 2020 through the summer of 2021 were basically private air travel for people who know to always ask if party buffet chocolate is psycho-active. Air travel today is a much lower vibration experience, and it’s important that assertive restorative steps be taken by conscious travelers to make flying chill again. Hanging a dreamcatcher from the back of the seat in front of you and burning palo santo on the tray table is a great way of making a public flight experience feel more private. Be sure to light your palo santo only after the aircraft reaches cruising altitude, because tray tables must be stowed until then. 

Other people’s parties

Not everyone with whom you may socialize is aware of how critical palo santo is to creating and maintaining a vibe. Some less experienced hosts try to make do with incense from India, Japan or other countries that have been annexed by Brooklyn or with candles from La Labo, and it may be up to you to rescue the vibe. Back when people consumed alcohol, bringing a nice bottle of wine was a way of showing a host your appreciation, but these days bringing palo santo, immediately lighting it and waving the stick around like Harry Potter on quaaludes is the optimal way of saying thank-you to someone who has invited you into their home.  

Hospitals

While palo santo has not been proven by any form of science to deliver the healing benefits touted by people who sell or use palo santo, be assured that it does all of the things people say it does. Burning palo santo creates smoke, and smoke is pretty to watch and - like cardiovascular exercise - creates a healthy challenge for your lungs. Medical facilities are places where people go to heal, and bringing palo santo to visit a recovering friend is a beautiful contribution to not only their journey back to health but also the recovery of every patient within a twenty to fifty foot radius. 

Conscious uncoupling ceremonies

Modifying your relationship trajectory in a direction that disappoints the person you are with might seem like a low vibe experience, but you can make it a high vibe experience by burning palo santo. While explaining that the rules that you set last week for your ENM pairing have become too confining, burning palo santo will deflect negative reactions and in some cases even seduce your partner into being amenable to a situationship that has absolutely no structure, rules or expectations. This can add to your sexual abundance and also serve as a pillar in your temple of confidence that helps you acquire new lovers at floor parties. If, rather than just undefining the relationship, you are certain there is no future with the person to whom you have exposed particles of burning wood, palo santo will prevent your ex-partner from making an opposing case or lingering too long after you have had uncoupling sex. 

During sex with someone you don’t want to fall in love with you

In a rare moment of cultural relevance, Science has proven that pheromones strengthen the bonds of attraction between two or many more people during sexual activity. Sometimes, though, it is undesirable to strengthen bonds with a sex partner. Sometimes, it is optimal to maintain a totally impartial, unattached, stoic distance between the person who you are inside / is inside of you, given that attraction can lead to unintended expectations. Burning palo santo is an excellent way of muting the potency of pheromones, leveling the olfactory playing field and creating a piney through-line for all the people participating in a sexual experience. 

Any kind of intentional wellness space

Because the smell of palo santo is so potent and distracting, burning it during intentional experiences (e.g. yoga, journaling, meditation, tantra classes, tantric sex, facials or any kind of PRP therapy) compels participants to step up their intention-setting efforts. It forces deep focus and concentration, kind of like how the deafening emo whines of RY X at a RY X concert force you to lean in, cock your head and make that weird squinty-eyed, mouth-agape listening face to be able to hear the unsolicited story of how literally anyone you happen to be standing next to was in an intentional polyamorous relationship with RY X.

Ancient actually sacred genuinely authentic real cultural events that were not invented by white people to extract money from other white people

Many people who attend Burning Man have begun to explore other intentional gatherings outside of Nevada that don’t involve metallic gold body paint. Some of these gatherings are thousands of years old and are led by people who have trained their entire lives to uphold traditions that have been passed down for generations within their culture. Particularly if a gathering takes place in its country of origin (rather than being exported, diluted and branded, like an ethnic fast food franchise), you may encounter native smells that don’t smell like palo santo. In these cases, it is not only permissible but even advisable to add palo santo to everyone’s experience, which you have probably been very reluctantly allowed to attend. Burning palo santo will communicate to the religious or cultural leaders of the gathering that you are on their level and (despite having never read anything about the gathering other than first few words of the top Google result you saw while standing on the Premier Access line into your Delta flight at JFK / LAX / SFO) have a deep respect for whatever they are chanting in a language that you cannot understand while you record the most intensely sacred moments for the Instagram story that you will post at the appropriate time in your home time zone so that everyone will know that you are an internationally intentionally spiritual person who gets access to authentic cultural events. 

Despite its countless unproven benefits and its universal appeal within a very small circle, there are certain times when palo santo should not be burned. Palo santo can trigger flashbacks for people who first encountered the scent of it during acid trips. If someone walks into your container, smells the palo santo you’re burning and begins behaving erratically, just ask them to immediately return to their own container, lest they harsh the vibe you’re cultivating. The only other times that do not call for burning palo santo are when you’re alone, and no one else will see you lighting the stick and waving it around the room, bringing it within inches of everyone’s face whether they’ve invited it or not, while making awkwardly long eye contact with them, nothing but the winding trail of smoke in front of your your vulnerable gaze, thus communicating to them that you are a spiritually endowed person and care deeply about them knowing that you are a spiritually endowed person. So, a helpful rule of thumb is this: as with masturbation, you should always and only be burning palo santo when someone is watching, otherwise what’s the point.