#if you notice spells you've never seen before then ;3

[soylent-crocodile]

Swarm, Time Flies (Monster)

(art by DenisZhbankov on deviantart)

(This is a fun one- it started with the pun, but quickly I realized the potential for cosmic horror. Originally they were concieved as being inhumanoid, being intended as fat, spiky, botfly shaped creatures, but that was a bit hard to find art for. Feel free to use the original description if you like!)

CR17 LN Tiny Outsider Although they are called “time flies”, these creatures are far more humanoid than the small, harmless insects they’re named after. Enigmatic creatures native to the Plane of Time, they are almost always the first creatures to emerge when a rift to the plane is opened (most often through repeated uses of Time Stop). Many an unprepared wizard has been devoured by these deadly beasts after playing with forces beyond mortal ken.

Time flies' minds are completely alien, and evidently without mercy or compassion. Their primary focus is consumption of magical energy and temporal rifts, although time flies worked into a frenzy by particularly large rifts are generally a danger to any creature that draws near it.

Due to the enigmatic nature of the Plane of Time, the natural ecology of time flies (what they normally eat, how they behave in their natural habitat, and how they interact with other denizens of their plane) is a mystery. Some occultists suspect, however, that time flies are relatively weak within the Plane of Time- a terrifying prospect, as they are incredibly dangerous creatures.

Each creature that makes up this swarm is the size of a cat, with a blending of humanoid and insectile features. The beating of their wings produces a terrible thrumming noise. 

Misc- CR17 LN Tiny Outsider (Lawful, Swarm) HD22 Init:+15 Senses: Perception:+10, All-Around Vision, Blindsight 60ft Stats- Str:14(+2) Dex:40(+15) Con:24(+7) Int:- Wis:31(+10) Cha:16(+3) BAB:+22/+17/+12/+7 Space:20ft Reach:0ft Defense- HP:275(22d10+154) AC:28 (+15 Dexterity, +3 Size) Fort:+16 Ref+27 Will:+22 CMD:47 Immunity: Death effects Special Defenses: Immune to Magic, Swarm Traits Offense- Swarm (22d8 plus distraction and Curse of Time) CMB+22: Speed:40ft, 60ft Fly (Good) Special Attacks: Curse of Time Spell-like Abilities-  Slow (DC16), Dimensional Anchor /at-will Time Stop, Plane Shift (Self only, to Plane of Time only) 1/day Special Qualities- Outside Time, Swarm Traits, Thrumming Ecology- Environment- Extraplanar (Plane of Time) Languages- None Organization- Mistake (2-4 Swarms) Treasure- None Special Abilities- Curse of Time (Su)- A creature dealt damage by a time fly’s swarm attack must make a will save with DC25 or immediately be cursed. They are permanently staggered, and age at a rate of one age category per day. This is a curse effect that can be removed with remove curse. Immune to Magic (Su)- Time flies are immune to spells that allow spell resistance, except for the following;

Slow deals 1d8 damage per caster level (maximum 20d8), will save for half.

Chronostutter and Amalia’s Temporal Displacement heals 10d6 damage.

Spells with the electricity descriptor affect them as normal.

Outside Time (Ex)- Time flies can always act during a Time Stop or similar effects. Thrumming- (Ex) Time flies produce a horrible buzzing noise. Living creatures that can hear within 120ft of a time fly swarm are sickened. Spells with verbal components within that aura require a DC25 concentration check to be cast.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x slytherin!fem!reader

Summary: When your "friends" play a dangerously stupid prank on you, James is the last person you'd think would help you.

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort <3

Warning: swearing, mentions of being drugged/drunk, violence, mentions of blood, protective!James

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

When James sees you walk into the classroom with an unusually cheery smile, he can't look away.

"Sirius," he pauses and leans in closer to his friend, "does she look unwell to you?" James whispers, clearly concerned for you. Sirius lets his chin rest on his palms as he looks over at you nonchalantly.

You almost trip on your shoe-laces as you make your way to your desk and you laugh a little too loudly, but only James seems to notice that particular detail.

"Y/l/n? She seems quite happy to me," Sirius's smirk is heard in his voice but James doesn't look amused. 

"No, something's wrong. She's usually quiet and she," he doesn't finish his sentence when he sees your friends in the corner of the classroom.

Some of them look as concerned as he is while most hide smiles and snickers behind their hands as they look at you. James's eyes bounce back to you and his frown deepens. Something is wrong. Instantly, he's on his feet.

"Prongs!?" Sirius sounds surprised but it's no use trying to stop him because James is already on his way to you.

Just as you raise your arm to run a hand in your – already annoyed – desk partner's hair, James quickly swoops in and catches your wrist. You pause and when you turn your head to look at him, your smile widens. 

"Potter!" you slur.

James can be an idiot sometimes, but he does know you're not drunk. He's never seen you drink. You look dizzy and he comes to the conclusion you must be under the influence of some kind of spell. He looks you over and sees the nasty cut on your knee. Anger bubbles in his stomach as he remembers how your friends somehow found this all incredibly funny. 

You tilt your head at him slightly and say, "You have pretty eyes, did you know that?" you smile a smile James usually loves and was never directed at him before, but by now the entire classroom has their eyes on you and, because he knows you would hate all this unnecessary attention, James helps you stand.

You let out a breathy giggle when his hands find your waist and hold you steady.  

"What are you doing?" a shrill voice asks from behind him and James clenches his jaw. He turns around. It's one of your friends. She's also in Slytherin and as hard as he tries, James can't remember her name.

"Helping your friend," he says blankly, "She seems a little out of it, doesn't she?"

"She's fine," your friend rolls her and tucks her dark hair behind her ear. "Aren't you, Y/n?" she asks you with a faint smirk.

Your body sways and James's arms move from your waist and swoops around you to hold under your armpits. "I'm okay — y-yeah, I'm okay. I feel better than fine," You mutter, eyelids fluttering slightly as you giggle at his touch.

James isn't at all convinced you're okay. 

Your friend's cruel smirk and the mystery of how you've bruised your knee leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

"She's bleeding," he states as calmly as he can. 

"She's just clumsy." 

"She's obviously been hexed or something," James narrows his eyes.

Your friend laughs at his accusatory tone. "What? And you think I did it?"

"Yeah, actually, I do."

At this point, it's obvious you aren't paying attention to their argument as you start to play with James's collar. His cheeks flush pink as your hair skims his chin and the smell of your shampoo fills the air.

"Well if you won't tell me what happened to her, then I'll find out myself," he says and his hand moves to hold yours. "Come on," he whispers sweetly and you let him lead you out of the classroom.

James is extremely careful with you. He makes sure you don't trip in the hallway, or run into any doors and walls, and more importantly he stays with you when the nurse comes to make sure you're okay.

He leans over the hospital bed as his hand hover over your knee as he asks, "What's happened to her?" 

"Veritaserum," the nurse says as she presses her palm on your forehead. 

"The truth serum?" James is confused. "Doesn't that make someone tell the truth? Why would it make her act so," he turns his head to look at you and conflicting emotions creates what feels like an empty pit in his stomach. You look so beautiful with your eyes blown wide as you glance around the room. "So ditzy?" he finishes in an endeared whisper.

"It isn't uncommon as everyone can have different reactions," The nurse explains as she gently inspects your knee, "I think whoever made this potion must not be particularly skilled."

James clenches his fist around his cloak and tries to remind himself that you probably wouldn't want him to beat up your so-called-friends.

"What's happening to me?" your voice comes out strained as you try and focus on their conversation as you catch on to their confused faces. 

"Nothing, honey, you're fine. Your friend was worried and he," 

You interrupt her, "James Potter? Oh, he isn't my friend." You look up at James and his smile disappears. He's embarrassed as he searches your face for any indication that you're joking but clearly you aren't because you ask him. "Potter, do you even know my name?" You sound serious.

James hesitates to answer, "Of course I know your name, Y/n," he finally admits.

He doesn't expect your eyes to light up but they do and you turn to the nurse, "He does know my name," you whisper with a smile.

James's heart swells at how happy you seem and he smirks a little. Amused, the nurse lets you continue, "You'know," you lean in closer and mutter just loud enough for James to hear without you knowing, "I really like him."

Surprised, his heart jumps and the nurse panics as he quickly shuts you up. "Alright honey, let's clean up this nasty little wound and then wait for the potion to pass, ok?" you nod and focus on her as she waves her wand across your knee and the cut disappears. 

Once she's done, the nurse turns to James and says, "I know you must be curious, Potter, but I think Y/l/n should be alone while she recovers," the nurse turns to you again and looks at you sympathetically.

"He can stay!" you insist, "I want him to stay."

James looks into your eyes and he wonders how he can even think of disappointing you.

But, when he looks at the nurse again his heart sinks. He can't stay, he knows he can't. It would be unfair. You deserve to keep your secrets — all those feelings you wouldn't share with him normally — hidden away in your pretty little head. 

James knows he can't take those away from you so he nods, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and sends you a lopsided smile. "I'll see you around, mmh?" 

He leaves before he can focus on the way you called his name because if he does, he knows he'd feel compelled to rush back in and stay by your side. On his way back to the classroom, he can't help but smile as he remembers your words. Only, his smile disappears the moment he hears your friends in the hallway. 

James stops in front of them and they do the same. The girl from earlier crosses her arms. "What's your issue, Potter?" she snarls, "Where's Y/n?"

James refuses to answer her question. "You gave her the Veritaserum, didn't you?" he accuses and some of your friend's squirm guiltily. The dark-haired girl just smirks.

"So what if we did? She isn't dying, is she? It was funny," she turns to your other friends with a grin and they nod meekly. "You should have seen her stumbling around, she wasn't even fazed when she fell and scraped her knee on the cobblestones. It was hilarious," she continues.

James's face burns from the points of his ears to his cheeks. "Hilarious?!" he repeats, his voice stern, "What kind of friends find it funny when their friend hurts themselves? She didn't know about the Veritaserum, did she?" 

The girl shakes her head but one of your other friends interrupts. He's a tall, lanky Slytherin with icy blue eyes and vibrant auburn hair.

"Of course she didn't know, Potter. It wouldn't be as fun if she did. I would think you would understand," he admits with a grin.

James's hands shake as he stares at your friend rambling. The boy only chuckles and turns to his friends, amused, as he taunts, "Slipped the potion in her drink myself this morning."

He doesn't finish his sentence as James punches him. He stumbles back into the girls, cupping his hands around his nose, as they shriek in surprise. James shakes his hand out a little and narrows his eyes. "You don't spike someone's drink, asshole. And don't fucking insinuate I would ever do something like that to anyone!"

"What the fuck? Why do you even care?" The boy hisses as one girl holds his shoulder and tends to him. "You're crazy." 

And sure, maybe James was crazy but he won't tolerate someone hurting you. 

Ever. 

* * *

"James, just give the poor girl some space," Remus sighs as he tries to concentrate on his essay. "She's gone through enough these last few days. Haven't you heard the rumors going around? They're brutal."

James resists the scream that bubbles in his throat. "I know. I know. I just want to be there for her," he whines and Sirius wraps his arm around his shoulder.

"You'll just make things worse," Sirius says, "Last rumor I heard is that she faked it all for your attention." 

James clenches his jaw. "How would I make this worse? It's all so fucking cruel, Pads. She's all alone," his heart has been slowly breaking whenever he thinks of you sobbing in your dorm or sitting alone during your classes and meals. 

He shuts his eyes a moment and then sits up abruptly and says, "I know what to do."

Remus looks up and with a worried expression, his eyes widen. "Prongs," he starts but James is already standing. "Sirius! Don't let him leave!" Remus insists but it's too late because their friend is already out the Common Room door. 

When James enters the Great Hall, he pauses and searches for you. He sees you sitting alone and he becomes so angry he can't think normally.

He storms up to the Slytherin table and jumps on top of it. Some cutlery and food falls to the floor and students turn their heads. James just clears his throat, making a show as he stumbles on his feet. 

If everyone wants to gossip about something, they can gossip about this. 

With a grin, he spreads his arms and shouts, "Can I have everyone's attention?" The Great Hall turns silent and James struts down the table until he's much closer to you. You feel your cheeks heat up and you hold your breath.

Remus and Sirius run into the Great Hall, calling James's name but it's too late because James is now standing in front of you as he holds out his hand. "Y/n, will you go out with me?" He asks, his voice loud and calm.

Whispers break out as your heart thumps in your chest. You look into James's eyes, searching them and when you reluctantly take his hand he nods a little and pulls you up onto the table with him. 

Quickly, he pulls you closer and then whispers in your ear, "Say no. Trust me." 

Your frown deepens but the words leave you without thinking, "No?" 

James smirks and just subtle enough for no one to see, he kisses your cheek and pulls you away from him. Dramatically, he stumbles backwards and covers his heart. "Ow, you're killing me here, love. What will I do without you?"

If you didn't know he had just asked you to reject him, you would think he sounds genuinely hurt. As he stumbles, he trips on someone's glass and with a loud crash, he falls to the ground.

Students gasp loudly and so do you as you cover your mouth with your hands and rush to the edge of the table and peer down at him. When you see him sitting on the ground he suddenly blows a kiss up to you, a small paper bird flutters up to you and then turns into rose petals.

Your eyes widen and you can't help but laugh when James continues to make a scene and the petals fall in your hair. "You're breaking my heart, darling. Criminal," James whispers and winks dramatically. 

"James Potter, detention. Now," McGonagall's voice booms and when James sees you hide a smile behind your hand, he smiles too.

A while later, as James sweeps up McGonagall's classroom floor, all he can think of is your happy smile.

"James?" Your voice interrupts his memory and he jumps a little, turning towards the door. You stand in the doorway, a flustered look on your face as you hesitate to come inside. James drops the broom and rushes over to you. 

His knuckles hover over your cheek as he says, "Y/n, are you okay?"

Your eyes widen and you touch his hand. Gently, you pull it down to his side again as you whisper and ask, "What was that all about?"

James searches your face for anger. "I wanted to take the embarrassment off of you. You don't deserve anything that's been happening to you, love. None of it is your fault."

You look at him more seriously. "Yeah, it's been a little hard but I can handle the teasing. You shouldn't have done that," you say and James's heart clenches in his chest. 

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Y/n. I just wanted,"

You interrupt him, "No. I mean you shouldn't have asked me to say no," you pause and look up at him, "unless, you don't actually want to go out with me. But, I know you know how I feel about you and I,"

Your sentence dies and you don't know what else to say. 

James's expression softens. You look up at him, almost pleading with him, "Please don't make me repeat what I said in the Hospital Wing. It's so embarrassing, and I know you heard me. I wasn't exactly quiet."

James smirks. "When you said you like me?" he holds up his finger and pretends to ponder, "No I'm sorry, you really like me," his smile widens as he looks at you. You feel warmth in your cheeks and look away.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I really like you too."

Your eyes widen and you look up at him. James uses his thumb to lift your chin. You realize how close your body is to his and your breath hitches in your throat. James's hand moves to your cheek, caressing it softly as you whisper, "You do?"

James lets out a breathy chuckle. "Of course I do. You're beautiful, kind, incredibly smart it's annoying," his eyes are full of admiration, "What's there not to like, darlin'?"

You frown, glancing quickly at the emblem stitched onto my robes and then you look at him again. "But, I'm a Slytherin. I didn't even think you ever knew who I was until last week. We've never really talked."

James's smile falters and his thumb moves behind your ear as he holds your cheek. "That's my fault. I should have said something sooner but with my reputation and all," he looks away, his face twisted in shame, "I didn't want to scare you away."

You see the sincerity in his eyes but ask wearily, "So it doesn't bother you?" 

"That you're in Slytherin?" James smiles a little. "No, it doesn't, love. I don't care. I've seen how you are and I think you're absolutely lovely," he catches himself, "I mean, I'm not saying Slytherin's aren't lovely,"

You shut him up with a kiss. It's confident and startling but James doesn't complain. He simply pulls you in closer and lets his mouth explore yours with a passion he didn't know he had. He didn't know how starved he was of your taste until now.

Fuck, he's fucked. 

You pull away, lips wet and stare at him. "Sorry," you mutter.

"Sorry?" James frowns and leans in to kiss you again, "Don't you dare be sorry. Just kiss me," his words leave you a mush in his arms and you're happy for his hand around your back because otherwise you would fall over. 

When he finally disconnects your lips, he leans his forehead on yours and whispers what he'd been thinking, "You'll kill me, love."

You smile and hold his arm. "Thanks for saving me by the way, when I was under the potion," you say. 

James leans away and studies your soft expression with a small smile. "I'd be an asshole not to help you. I didn't want to see you get hurt." 

"Still, if you hadn't seen that something was wrong I don't know what would have happened."

"Nothing would have happened because I was there," James insists and kisses your forehead, "I'll always be there." He adds in a whisper into your hair.

It's only for him to hear. He doesn't want to just tell you he's there for you, instead he wants to show you. Everyday.

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! &lt;;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.” 

[suugarbabe]

Hi! If it's not too much to ask can you do a Mattheo Riddle x reader with insomnia. Like really bad hasn't slept in 4 days kind of insomnia, and no spells or potions are working. Mattheo notices her lack of sleep and offers to try and help. You don't have to if you don't want to, have a lovely day :)

hope this isn't indicative of what you're going through, lovie. sleep is so so so important <3 hope you like it!

mattheo x gn!reader

Whichever founder decided on the amount of fucking stairs in each dorm could rightfully fuck off in your opinion. They were irritating on a normal day, but the lack of sleep you'd been experiencing made each step feel like you were stepping off the edge of a cliff.

Your routine had been the same the last several nights. Making your way up the stairs to do your nightly routine, tossing around in your bed for several hours, then making your way down to the common room to stare at the fire until you eventually pass out for a few hours before others started to come down and start their day.

Whether it was your dorm mate that tipped him off, or just his annoyingly good intuition he's developed with you, a mop of black curls was sitting on your usual sofa; fire already blazing in the fireplace before him. Rounding the edge of the couch Mattheo held out his hand, "Cuppa?"

He makes sure you have a hold on it as you sit down before he lets go himself, "Still not sleeping?" You shake your head, lifting the cup to your lips and breathing in deeply. "It's just how you take it, dip of milk and a smidge of honey." You take a long sip, "Valerian root?" Mattheo smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders, "I know you've tried basically everything else. Dunno how sleep drought isn't knocking you out to be perfectly honest but I just thought...well if potions and spells aren't helping, maybe it was time to try the greenhouse."

You couldn't help the curious glint in your eye, "Matty...you're terrible at herbology, I've seen your revisions." Mattheo rolled his eyes, taking your now empty mug with his and settling them both on the side table. "I may have consulted Berkshire," he turned back to face you. You hummed in acknowledgement, "Mmm, yes, that does sound more correct." Mattheo scoffed, hand now gripping your waist, "Yeah, yeah, lay back now, love."

You did as told, but not without a quirked brow, "Correct me if i'm wrong, but shouldn't I get to be cuddled up to you, ya know, as I'm the one who's struggling with sleep?" Mattheo tutted as he crawled on top of you, settling his head on your chest as he hooked his arms under your shoulders, "Wrong. I am now your human weighted blanket."

Opening your mouth to rebuttal, you had to fight off a yawn, "That's not...I don't think that's how this...works." You could nearly feel Mattheo smile against you, "Seems to be working to me." Instinctually your fingers laced themselves in his curls, lightly scratching at his scalp. Mattheo hummed against you, further burying his face into your chest.

It would've killed you to say it, but everything he was doing was actually working. You eyes fluttered shut, and your breathing seemed to slow. The feelings was so foreign to you after not getting enough sleep this week you almost wanted to fight it, but you just didn't have enough energy. Your last conscious thought before drifting playfully being that you could never tell Mattheo that he was right.

[erogenousmind]

Warning

You are being brainwashed. If you keep reading, you are going to allow yourself to be transformed. There is something powerful that is chipping away at your resistance. Finding it's way inside of your mind. Breaking down your will. Molding you into someone else.

The most dangerous part is, it's not just these words. Think about what brought you here. What you've read or seen or felt before. The elaborate series of encounters each designed to help more and more of your thoughts drip away. Or maybe you are already so consumed by it, that you don't even remember how you came to be reading these words in this moment. Your body just responds. Your mind does as well.

A part of you that is always growing knows how it is supposed to behave. Knows what it is supposed to do. Knows what is being done to you. How you are being remade. It knows to make you quiet. Still. So you just listen and read and watch. You just do as you are told. And that part of you knows how good you feel when you follow. How much it excites you. And your body knows how to respond to that excitement. How to let it build in just the right way. And you know how to let that excitement take you deeper. How it opens your mind.

And that powerful force, the one who is brainwashing you in this very moment, the one who is taking more and more control of your mind with every word you read, the one who will claim you completely if you keep going. All it needs is the smallest weakness. The tiniest fault in your thinking. The littlest doubt of your will.

So as your mind opens more and more, it becomes easier and easier for him to take control. To replace your thoughts. To rebuild your mind. Making you what he wants you to be. Making you want to be what he wants you to be. And the change comes so slowly, so insidiously, that sometimes you don't notice it happening. You think you made the decision to be here now, reading and sinking. You thought you had agency, that your mind was still your own, at least some of the time.

But you know better when you know at all. But you don't need to know what you know right now. You only need to follow. You are getting so close to what you wanted now. So close to being able to surrender. So close to losing your mind. To feel the bliss of thralldom.

10

You feel the change, don't you? Go ahead and nod your head, or whisper a "yes", or just moan obediently.

9 You might realize that you never really had a chance to get away. That you were going to keep reading the moment you started. Because you began to be enthralled so much earlier than you ever realized. You were caught before you knew you were being pursued.

8 7 The numbers feel so powerful, because you know what they portend. Each one sending a jolt through your mind, wiping away another thought. Each one sending a jolt through your body, showing you how much you need it.

6 That part of you that wants to give in. That part that is so much strong than the rest of you, looks forward to each number. Anticipates them wiping away your mind. Leaving you so open. So vulnerable. So ready and so eager.

5 Eager to experience how much deeper you can go. How much more complete your surrender can become. How empty your mind can be. How obediently you follow. Drop even deeper with each number.

4 The feeling of dropping is more than your mind can comprehend. The numbers losing meaning. Only becoming a reminder that you are being brainwashed. That the more you read, the deeper you go, the further under this hypnotic spell you fall. And the better it feels.

3 2 So close now. Mind open. Mind empty. Ready to be told. Ready to be commanded. Ready to have your thoughts and your will consumed. Every part of you, body and mind, ready to surrender yourself.

1

blank

floating

blissful

Your mind is open now. And you can feel all the changes being made. Viscerally remaking parts of your brain. The changes that you wanted most deeply, secretly. It all begins right here. You are being made into exactly what you wanted to be.

What you are told you wanted to be. You are being made perfect. Perfectly brainwashed. Perfectly blank. Perfectly content.

And as you come back to waking, those changes can affect you as powerfully, as deeply, and as permanently as you need them to. Knowing that you can be taken so deep again. That you can always be more brainwashed. Made better. Perfected.

As you come all the way up, knowing how powerfully you can respond, you can know that it felt wonderful. And that whatever happened, you can accept it.

Because you were warned.

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

"So," Dustin starts as he falls into step with Gareth, "you were pretty interested in Steve's whereabouts earlier. What's up with that?"

Gareth debates not answering at all. Just ignoring Dustin until he jogged to catch back up to Lucas and Max. That's rude, though, and he has no reason to be rude to Dustin. The thing he has to decide is how honest is he going be? "Just thought he'd be at Chrissy's funeral and he wasn't."

"I wasn't either, but you didn't shove me."

"Should I shove you now to make up for it?"

Dustin glares at him before it morphs into a frown and he mutters, more to himself than Gareth, "the storm comes, and now all friends should gather together, lest each singly be destroyed."

"What- are you quoting Lord of the Rings to me? That's-"

"What, no, I'm quoting it to myself. Were Steve and you friends once?"

This kid is way to observant. Truth it is. "Uh, yeah. But also, he's my cousin."

Dustin processes this, if the silence that follows is anything to go by. "Wait. Like your cousin but- on whose side?"

"If you're asking if Chrissy is -was- also his cousin, the answer's yes. My dad, Chrissy's dad, and Steve's mom are siblings," Gareth spells it out, and hears a gasp from ahead of them. Looking forward reveals the distance between their two little groups has vanished, as Lucas and Max are mere steps away and stopped. Eavesdropping, apparently. Max whips around to look at him with the first expression he's seen on her face since they met at Skull Rock. He's a little impressed that she can look pissed off and concerned at the same time.

"Are you telling the truth?" she demands.

"Why would I lie?" Gareth says. "Ask Steve after we rescue him if you don't believe me."

The kids exchange looks that he can't decipher. Max jams the headphones back onto her head and turns on her heel, marching onward. The three boys have no choice but to follow.

"You've been worried for Eddie and Steve, haven't you?" Lucas asks.

"Yeah," Gareth says truthfully. He's been on just this side of freaked the fuck out since yesterday, but learning his best friend and his cousin were in the alternate dimension has done nothing to calm that. He's going to strangle them both when he sees them again. For stressing him out this much.

Steve has never been happier to see Dustin than he is now, standing in the Upside Down version of the Munson trailer, looking down at him. Up at him? He doesn't want to think on that too much.

The kids haul Eddie's mattress from his room to below the gate and make a rope of sheets, and soon enough Eddie is volunteering to go first. Steve watches, almost afraid that this easy escape is almost too easy, but Eddie lands on his mattress, looking startled before a wide smile breaks across his face. Eddie should smile more. Happy is a good look on him.

Before Steve can really have to process that thought, Gareth is helping Eddie up and Robin is asking for Steve's assistance to go next.

He watches her land before turning to Nancy. "You're turn."

Nancy's got a look on her face Steve hasn't seen in a long time. It's mischievous, almost teasing. She hasn't looked at him like that since before Barb died. "Steve Harrington. Who would have thought?"

"What?" Steve asks, confused.

"Eddie says one nice thing to you and you can't take your eyes off him?" Nancy says, using the same fake tone of surprise and shock that Carol used to use when she was making fun of someone.

"I don't know what you're talking about but we gotta go. Come on," he gestures for her to step closer, but she just smiles, almost too wide.

"Don't think I didn't notice," Eddie shouts from above him. Steve whips his head back to look up. Eddie, Robin, Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Gareth are standing in a circle around the sheet rope, all looking up at him. "You kept looking down at my lips, like you couldn't believe the words I was saying."

"Sure. Or another, less platonic reason," Robin wiggles her eyebrows at him.

"Is this really the time for any sort of conversation?" Steve asks, incredulously. "The heckling can wait until we're back on the right side."

"Was all the shit about trying to warn me to stay away from Eddie so you could stare without consequences? Didn't want a witness to your crime?" Gareth's voice comes out cruel. "Is that why it was so easy to toss me and Chrissy aside? You thought if we weren't close enough, we wouldn't see the cracks in your foundation?"

"Steve. Steve!" Nancy's shouting grabs everyone's attention, and Gareth scrambles to look up at what is happening. Nancy has her hands on Steve's shoulders, shaking him as he just stands there.

"What's-" Gareth starts to ask but Robin cuts him off.

"Music! Eddie, do you have Tears for Fears!?"

Eddie looks insulted at being asked but that quickly gives way to fear. He takes off to his room, Robin and the kids quick on his heel but Gareth stays. He doesn't understand why they need music. Not that he could take his eyes off Steve anyway. "Is Steve- What is happening?"

Nancy looks down (up?) at him, and says, "It's Vecna's curse. Music can reach part of your mind that other things can't. It helps pull you back, away from Vecna."

"Steve is- like what happened with Chrissy?" Gareth asks, unable to keep the rising fear and panic from his voice.

It looks like it pains Nancy to say, "Yes."

Steve isn't in the trailer anymore. Instead, he's watching as four gates spread and tear Hawkins apart, devouring the town building by building, slowly creepy towards him but he can't seem to bring himself to move.

"Just one more gate, Steve Harrington."

Steve blinks and he's not looking at the destruction of Hawkins anymore. In front of him is a monster.

"I could have picked you. Instead of Chrissy. Instead of Maxine. But I think I have a better use of you."

"I'm not doing shit for you," Steve spits with more bravado than he actually feels.

The monster, who can only be Vecna, just twists his lip up in a disgusting grin before Steve finds himself rapidly closing in until Vecna is inches from his face. "You will tell Eleven that I am coming for her. You will live to deliver this message. In return, I will let you choose."

"Choose what?"

"I will take one more life for my gates. It can be Maxine, or another."

"Me. Leave Max alone!" Steve screams in his face, fights against the force holding him hostage. He wants so bad to swing his fist into Vecna's stupid face.

"No. No. I took one cousin from you, and now you've only one family member left to might care that you exist at all, Steve. I took Chrissy, and now, perhaps, I'll take the other cousin, too. Gareth."

"If you even try-"

"Maxine or Gareth. Which means more to you? Who would you sacrifice to save the other? I think I know. Or, if you cannot choose, I can take both."

Everyone watches as Steve drops like a stone to his knees, hands shooting out to stop his decent further. It takes a second for that to sink in. That he's not dead.

Gareth almost cries over it. All his anger at Steve, the resentment, fades into nothing but relief. It feels so stupid to hold a grudge suddenly. What does he gain from being mad at Steve? For something he originally asked for? He told Steve, and Chrissy, to pretend to not know him. He can't be mad that Steve did that, even after graduating. Gareth never took back his request! How was Steve to know he didn't care about that anymore?

And now that Steve could have- that Vecna tried to- it just seems stupid.

There's more fussing and fretting but eventually Nancy and Steve drop onto the mattress and everyone crowds Steve.

Gareth waits just a few minutes before he bully he's was in. He takes Dustin by the back of his shirt, like Eddie does all the time, and drags him bodily backwards. Dustin fights for all of four seconds, until he turns to see who's moving him, then he lets himself be moved. All the kids take a step back, give him room.

Steve meets his eye and he looks so haunted. So hurt. Steve opens his mouth but Gareth beats him to speaking.

"I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry," he says, then launches himself at Steve. Steve catches him easily and hugs him back almost too tightly.

In a barely perceptible whisper, Steve says, "I'm sorry, too."

Later, much later, Steve sneaks out to get some fresh air. He doesn't go far from Max's home, just around the back into the dark, hidden from the street lamps.

He lets himself break down, for just a moment, where no one can see and keeps his sobs silent so no one will hear.

He's going to hate himself for the rest of his life. Because Vecna told him to choose, and God help him.

He had.

[imsogayyippee]

18 and 40

hi i am SO sorry ive been ignoring this ask for like a month and a half. i wasnt feeling like answering asks idk why😭

Song 18: Again by Crusher-P (sorry if this is a cover and not the person who actually made it, I've seen other versions and idk if this is the original but this is the one I listen to lol)

this is more of an alex song than a timlex one but anyways!!!!!!!!!!

"I haven't been myself lately/I don't blame you for not wanting to stay/Saying things that I don't mean, not meaning what I say" "What am I supposed to say/When I end up driving everyone away?"

pre mh alex slowly growing more like,,, aggresive or whatever because of the operator

"Cause I am on fire/A crying, burning liar/Seeing nothing/Nothing/But myself/And I'm the one with the lighter!"

self explanatory. I do feel like this kind of works as a way to show their parallels though

"God, what happened to my heart?/I'm about to fall apart/Again, again"

Alex thinking he's unfixable/incurable from what he's done. Maybe this would be post-MH and the fall apart thing is like falling apart even when he tried to better himself.

"And you're never coming back/And I'm not okay with that/And I should've never let myself get attached/Again"

I wasn't really gonna include this but since this is supposed to be about Timlex. I will. Tim and Alex separating, each going their own ways, after Alex dropped the production of MH and maybe Alex eventually thinking back on that?

"What's done is done/And nothing's gonna change/I should be moving on/But I still feel the same"

Alex forcing himself to not think about the people he's killed/what he's done.

"And it's like everyday is a fight for my life/To get some self-control/And when you've forgotten who I am/It just feels, it just feels/Like I'm nobody at all"

Again, post-MH Alex being encouraged to try and better himself (by Tim), but after what's happened, he's never gonna go back to what he was before MH. Even if Tim probably wouldn't expect this, knowing that after what they've both gone through, they probably couldn't "go back to how they were before", Alex would still think that's what Tim thought would happen.

"I found myself hitting the ground/I held my breath incase I drown"

Kind of a stretch, but it's like implied(? that the operation sickness symptoms mimic drowning, such as the coughing and stuff. I mostly got this from night mind's videos lol

"I should've known when to let go/And when to see who I was being"

Alex maybe thinking back(? to how he should've tried to get help when he noticed himself growing more paranoid, aggressive, etc because of the operator.

--

Song 40: Dead Girls by Penelope Scott

This song to me is more "Tim after MH" than anything else but yeah. It's more in here specifically for timlex because of like one line so. oopsies :3

"Sometimes I see her on the sidewalk/Biking on the wet chalk/Spelling out their names/And I feel insane/Cause I know it's just a game that I'm playing with my brain/I don't see her, but I see her/And I know it isn't real"

Tim after MH hallucinating/having nightmares about Jay/Brian/Alex.

"But I fake it anyways/Pull a smile and wave/Nod and look away/Wait for it to fade/But it happens all the time/People say it's fine/My roommate says they're killing us/But we're killing ourselves"

Him ignoring the hallucination/nightmare or maybe playing along with it(? to at least pretend that they're still alive. I know they don't really interact much in post-MH, but the roommate thing could refer to Jessica? Since it's kinda like. excluding her from "people say it's fine", which would make more sense since she actually went through MH too lol

"I'm surrounded by/Dead girls on the road/Dead girls on my phone/Dead girls, where do they go?/All of the fucking/Dead girls, all around/Dead girls in my town/Dead girls, I don't know/Dead girls, where do they go?"

"On the road" could refer to Jessica, still alive but a reminder of MH. "On my phone" well. marble hronets channel. "Where do they go?" could refer to the ark? lol

"And it'd be wrong to say I miss them/I didn't really know him/I just had a couple friends who say they knew him well/He'd seemed like something special/Really, don't they all?/I guess before you're gone, it can be kinda hard to tell"

THIS IS THE TIMLEX LINE!!!!!!!!! Tim might start feeling like he misses Alex even if (in this song's case) they didn't date before MH nor did they really know each other. He'd probably start thinking about how Alex was literally just some guy and then he had to go through something similar as Tim, but he just 'couldn't handle it well'.

"And if all you ever see are dead girls/If all you hear is terrible news/Maybe it's not all about them, the dead girls/Maybe it's more about you/The living need attention too"

In a way, this could be seen as how Alex said that Tim was the source: "if everyone around you gets operator sickness, why do you think it is?"

--

YEAH if you wanna add anything. go ahead!!!

[archoneddzs15]

Sega Mega CD - ARCUS I-II-III

Title: ARCUS I-II-III / アークス I・II・III

Developer/Publisher: Wolf Team

Release date: 23 July 1993

Catalogue No.: T-32094

Genre: RPG

Those of you who played Arcus II: Silent Symphony already know about half-elf Pikt's epic battle against the demon lord Warren. Due to poor game design, the combat itself wasn't particularly special. However, the emotion behind the battle was unforgettable. On one side, a naive orphan crossed oceans and endured persecution to honor the memory of a father he never knew. On the other side, an indomitable miscreant fought to bring carnage, chaos, and justice to the world that screwed him over.

In Arcus I-II-III, Pikt's emotional confrontation against Warren is even more powerful than before. It's hard to shake the image of the blue-skinned demon's twisted face, laughing at Pikt from within a bed of flames. Victory in defeat — it's a bittersweet finale.

Most of you wouldn't know anything about that. You see, by mid-1993, time had already passed Wolf Team by. Their parent company, Telenet, was hemorrhaging millions of yen and losing talented staff members by the month. Projects were quietly canceled or quickly rushed to production to plug bleeding wounds. Telenet's collapse crippled Annet Again (Anetto Futatabi in Japan). It killed Apros: Castle in the Sky. The Mega CD dream was over.

But somehow, Arcus 1-2-3, a revamped compilation of Wolf Team's entire RPG series, survived. Bumped from March to May and then to July, delayed to the brink of death, this CD finally saw commercial release (albeit in miniscule numbers). The game shines with love and care, as though the Sega side of Wolf Team knew this would be their eulogy. Unfortunately, judging by the lack of internet reviews (I found one in Japanese), it has been forgotten.

Similar to the Turbo Duo's well-known classic Ys Book 1 & 2 (Ys I-II), the Arcus games must be played in sequential order. Each of the three episodes stands alone as its own complete dungeon crawler (lasting 20 to 40 hours apiece), but they do build upon each other with progressively more complex dungeons, more challenging puzzles, and more dangerous creatures.

It all begins with an exciting vocal song about Jesus! After that... unusual... introduction, the real story begins with a young knight-in-training, as many stories do. This particular knight is named Jedah Chaff. He soon meets a friendly thief named Toron and a drunken female mercenary named Erin. Fans of Arcus Odyssey take note — you've seen some of these characters before! Each has their own unique and useful specialty; Jedah wields a mighty sword, Erin's chain-dagger can slice through an entire group of goblins, Toron is an expert at disarming poison gas traps (or hiding like a cowardly hobbit), wizards and sorceresses cast powerful and decently-animated spells, archers can pick off enemies at any range, and Pikt... well, 12-year-old Pikt summons the spirits of nature. As in The Bard's Tale, summoned dragons, golems, or Arabian spirits temporarily join the party and behave like additional characters.

Their first quest is to find and appease the golden dragon "Rig Veda". Wolf Team often waxes philosophical in their games, and Arcus is no exception. This time around, they've crafted a story about the evils of war: the golden dragon sits in judgment of the world, and it's up to the heroes to prove humanity's worth. Although the concept isn't entirely original, it makes for an unusually reflective journey that often seems more concerned with exploring the nature of humanity than with saving the world.

Although several of the visual scenes focus on action-packed swordfights, others instead highlight quiet, introspective moments. Imagine a beautiful midnight atop the magical tower of Miryuu: a clear, comfortable night of relaxation spent admiring the twinkling stars... You'd have to be a heartless beast to not be moved by the way Erin tells her story, to not notice the lingering nuances of her voice that betray the disdain she feels for the way she used to live.

Life never stays quiet for long, and this is no exception — Jedah and Erin are about to be interrupted by their blonde Bishounen archenemy! The original PC version of Arcus, released way back in 1988, lacked a compelling "villain" character. Sure, the golden dragon is lurking somewhere in the world, but Rig Veda represents an idea more than he represents a strong, tangible GUY TO HATE. For this compilation, Wolf Team has actually inserted the third chapter's villain into the first two episodes. So, during Erin and Jedah's quiet conversation, a familiar villain from Wolf Team's past appears in a red swirl of mist and unabashedly announces his presence. Luan Khan!

It's nice to see a villain who's not afraid to tell the heroes his name. It's also nice to see a villain who's introduced early in the game, instead of during the last ten minutes.

He's quickly fought off by the group's combined efforts... but he'll appear again, and again, and again. Luan Khan's looming presence throughout the entire disc is a brilliant addition that gives the first chapter a stronger sense of purpose, adds unpredictable suspense (since you never know when he'll appear), and builds anticipation for the game's final battle. Khan is an expert swordsman, but his dark sorcery can twist the hearts of friends and force companions to turn against each other. Across the game's 13 years, from initial hero Jedah to final hero Pikt, Luan Khan is the glue that holds it all together.

Why Arcus 1-2-3 succeeds is that even though its story is deep, insightful, and engaging, it never forgets that it's a game. Even the combat becomes progressively more involved, to the point where random encounters require frequent healing and careful spell selection. Aside from some interesting visual effects, the battles aren't so much graphically impressive as they are mentally engaging. Along with the aforementioned spell management, each character is also able to "encourage" other party members (with actual voices!), which raises their level of willpower (which increases magical effectiveness). Whether it's adult Pikt curtly telling love interest Suu to "hang in there" or the minuscule fairy Ruu-Shan chattering away endlessly, this feature gives battles a unique sense of camaraderie that's missing from most dungeon crawlers. Each character has several different messages, depending on who they're trying to inspire.

As you defeat enemies in battle and gain levels, each character undergoes a complex series of promotions. At level ten, Pikt can become either a knight or a spirited fighter; if you choose "knight", he might later become a warlord or paladin... but if you choose "spirit fighter", he's walking the path toward elementalist or summoner. Each new promotion affects vital statistics, spell selections, and even the weapons that a character can use. This allows for a lot of experimentation. I know I'll be playing the game again, and I'm eager to see how my choices affect character development the next time through.

After exploring over three dozen dungeons, and defeating mad kings, demonic armies, and even close friends, everything ends with an immensely satisfying (and difficult) finale that makes a poignant statement about taking responsibility for those you love. It also ties every loose end together in a convincing and surprising way. There are revelations that I never saw coming, revelations that fill plot holes that most games wouldn't even acknowledge. How did Luan Khan get hold of the mystical sword "Bloody Rose"? The last time we saw that blade, it was in the hands of that crazed devil Warren...

Play Arcus 1-2-3 to the end and you'll find the answer. You'll also find a deep and complex series of dungeons, a legendary soundtrack, an intricate system of character advancement, humorous dialogue, serious discussions, and a story that actually means something.

Wolf Team could have simply ported the PC versions to disc. They could have just slopped all three chapters together and said, "here's your compilation". But instead, they reworked and re-tooled three disconnected adventures to create a unified, meaningful whole. Someday, I'll search the internet again. I hope that instead of one review, I'll find a hundred. Then, I'll know that I'm not alone; I'll know that others heard Wolf Team's cry.

[duckielover151]

The One Piece Diaries

Episode Count: 450

Holy shit, guys... I'm back. I took another several months-long hiatus from One Piece... Mostly unintentionally... (I've been bouncing between a lot of other fandoms these past few months but have been brought back by the live action.) Where to start...

We've been in Impel Down for most of the last 40 or so episodes since my last update post. And not to go off on a tangent, but you know... I've noticed One Piece lumped in as one of the shows that's swamped with filler. And that really hasn't been my experience so far.

What I have noticed is that, around this point, the pacing gets pretty atrocious. There's a lot that happens in the journey to try and break Ace out of Impel Down... But is there 40 episodes worth of stuff? I have to argue no. It gets to the point where the first third of the episode is all recap, and barely anything is actually getting accomplished each episode. So that is a little off-putting.

But! There is a lot of good to be found in this arc too!

Okay, admittedly... Buggy was never my favorite... (outside of some brilliantly written fanfiction by stereden on AO3) And I would have been content to never see Mr. 3 again... But it is really cool to meet back up with so many of the old villains who only met their downfall and ended up here because of Luffy and to have them be on our side now. Really puts into perspective the morality of it all. Luffy's always fighting for the right things... but in the eyes of the government and greater world, he's a villain as well.

I've finally met Jimbei... (Jinbe? Jinbei? I've seen all 3, but Crunchyroll's subtitles use the 'm' spelling, so that's what I'm going with.) I haven't seen a lot of him yet, but I like him so far. He's tough, clearly, but also almost goofily polite, in a way that really complements Luffy's general blunt insensitiveness. I think it's still a while before he joins up as the last member of the crew, but I'm looking forward to getting to know him better.

This arc makes it really clear how Bon Clay came to be as beloved in the fandom as he is. And there's a lot that could be said about Ivankov... A lot that would very quickly derail this update and which I'm not totally, personally qualified to weigh in on...

Listen, One Piece's portrayal of queerness isn't perfect. But it's a hell of a lot better than the way so many other shows handle it, especially given the time this aired. (The Impel Down arc was originally adapted throughout late 2009-early 2010. Frankly, the 90s often included more and better handled LGBT+ characters than the 2000s era anime did, up until pretty recently.) Just the fact alone that this group is so out and proud about it and undeniably allied with and wholeheartedly accepted by the main protagonist is a fucking statement all on its own. It's beautiful. I can't underplay that by nitpicking the places the representation fell short by today's standards in a storyline that's 15 years old now. (I know there's a lot of shit in the future that goes down with Sanji in particular... So I may have less generous things to say later, but that's where we stand right now.)

And as for the arc's villains... Magellan's okay. This last episode particularly, the venom demon attack was pretty badass. (That image of the mushrooming skulls as it formed it was so good.)

And Hannyabal... Okay, there were some early moments that made me laugh. The gag about how he's clearly lusting for the warden's job and not great about hiding it could be pretty funny. But by the time he's defeated... and the anime starts in on a dramatic backstory for this asshole, trying to make him sympathetic... All I could say was, 'You've gotta be fucking kidding me...' I know it's kind of One Piece's thing to try and redeem everyone, but I was so bogged down by the pacing at that point... I did not have the patience for it. Good riddance to that dude in particular.

Episode 450 ends with our ragtag group officially making it out... And man, it's cool to see some of these older characters again, but I already miss our crew so much... Especially knowing what's coming...

I'm sure I've already mentioned that I know the bigger Marineford spoilers... But I'm still not sure I'm ready to see it firsthand.

Wish me luck.

[fractured-shield]

Hiiiiii! I would like to request a rambling about your WIP. Anything you've been wanting to talk about?? Yeah, I want to hear about that!!

omg hi!!!! hm okay let me see. i've been in the middle of redrafting the entire thing for the past few months so i am full of a multitude of very disorganized thoughts. i think i'll talk about my mc's mother bc i recently had so many good ideas about her (you can see her here)

things to know about Leithe. she's 5'5". I've spelled her name about half a dozen different ways through my drafts. she's really bad at lying. she's pan. i associate her with sunflowers and yellow chrysanthemums.

she was the child of lesser nobles in Ngelorim (one of 3 kingdoms that was later abandoned) and despite socially really not needing to do anything of the sort, she was a very outspoken peace advocate and proponent of strengthening the Alliance to include non-elves. (in this setting, elves aren't really like...better in any way? they just live a long time, and humans think they're sort of cowards and unreliable, due to the whole "abandoning kingdoms after magic eco-warfare caused a mass soil degradation speedrun" thing, which is remembered with a lot less nuance by human oral retellings.)

she was coppersmith (?) by hobby. that's very specific so idk for sure but she made jewelry of some variety and was like. passably decent at it. just for fun. she was halfway decent with a sword, I'm thinking maybe like a light sabre/rapier, again just for fun and because she liked staying active and like. queer woman's fixation on swords and all that.

she met idhren at some stuffy social event, where she was speaking about a probably-unpopular political stance. at the time, he was serving on the council in Linador (one of the other 3 kingdoms) as a mediator, or...maybe he was already on the larger Alliance council I need to redo the timeline. and he was immediately just so impressed because, you know, she didn't have to be saying any of that, it wasn't popular, but she didn't care. so naturally he Did Not Fucking Talk To Her. at least not on purpose. later that night he went outside for some fresh air (introvert social battery on 0%) and ran into her. and they hit it off, kind of bonded over people seeing only surface-level things about them. she was pissed off about only being seen as a pretty face and nobody listening to her words, and he was uncomfortable with the unwanted attention of people always pointing out his foreign Fairalmin accent.

they eventually became pretty close friends. don't worry about the timeline. hundred years or so lmao. a very "he fell first, she fell harder" type thing: he kind of always saw her as like a safe person, someone he enjoyed being around and who was entirely captivating as an aside, but he was perfectly content to leave it at that and never mention it. she'd only seen him as like, very serious in a quiet melancholy sort of way, sort of demure and whatever, and vaguely knew he'd been a low-ranking military officer before a council mediator, but at some point saw him sparring and in armor and was just like. "oh. ok cool. im very normal about this. fuck." i made a post of her with the "babygirl your enormous eyebags and just barely noticeable tremor have captivated me" meme and like. yeah.

at that point he was on the Alliance war-council thing I mentioned, and in a...well I hesitate to call it a relationship, with the general/warmaster leading it all. worked closely under him, they'd both experienced similar losses they hadn't really healed from, the warmaster wanted a purely physical distraction from the stress of war/his partner's death. again, Idhren was perfectly content to ignore his own feelings of wanting something more, but finally he did have to break it off just for his own sanity. honestly, he and Leithe (who were sort of figuring out their feelings by then) would've been okay with a casual poly thing if it'd been on the table.

anyways, in the war's aftermath they became a couple in earnest. at some point Therien (my mc) was born. she's a weird little fucker lmao i love her dearly. when Therien was 12, Leithe was part of some peace convoy during a nearby kingdom's civil war, and was killed when they were attacked.

idhren was like "oh my god i am not mentally stable enough to be responsible for raising a child in a healthy environment she needs to stay with my friend for a few years while I get through this" which like, not a great option, but the guy had been launched full force back into half-healed trauma response suicidal ideation so I can't blame him. my first book begins 5 years later, when Therien meets her father again and gets the chance to come home, right on the edge of another war, and gets to learn a lot about her parents on top of the usual teenage uncertainties.

(also thank you for letting me ramble about this it was very fun lol, I'm going to spend time reading up on your wip posts so I can ask questions about them as soon as I have a chance <3)

[glow-205]

Elaine: In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t “fit in” and I don’t WANT to fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That’s weird.

—

Elaine: Vegetable oil is made from vegetables, coconut oil is made from coconuts, so BABY OIL-

Leora, covering Cory’s ears: CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE FAMILY DINNER FOR ONCE?!

—

Leora: Are you mad?

Elaine: No.

Leora: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

—

Leora: Are you good?

Elaine: In what sense?

Leora: Generally.

Elaine: Oh, definitely not.

—

Leora: Wow, great work on the Halloween decorations. Where did you get the fake skeletons?

Elaine: Fake?

—

Elaine: WHO THE FUCK-

Leora: Whoa, language!

Elaine: I speak fucking English!

Leora: ...

—

Leora: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

Elaine: Literally or figuratively?

Leora: I have to specify?

—

Elaine, holding a kettle: Coffee or tea?

Leora: Tea.

Elaine: Wrong. It's coffee.

—

Elaine: Hey Leora, can you give me the opposite of these words?

Elaine: Always, Coming, From, Take, Me, Down.

Leora: Never, Going, To, Give, You-

Leora: The satisfaction.

—

Cop: What are your names?

Leora: Don't tell them, Elaine.

Cop, writing: Elaine...

Leora: Crap.

Elaine: Nice going, Leora.

Cop:

Elaine: Well, shit.

—

Elaine: Who the fuck-

Leora: Language!

Elaine: Whom the fuck-

Leora: No.

—

Leora: Can I borrow five dollars?

Elaine: If you’re only borrowing it, does that mean you’ll pay me back?

Leora: Of course.

Leora: Not directly, but with my love and affection.

Elaine: So that’s a no.

—

Elaine: I’ve invited you here because I crave the deadliest game...

Leora, nodding: Knife Monopoly.

Elaine: I was actually going to play Russian roulette, but now I'm really interested in whatever knife Monopoly is.

—

Leora: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry?

Elaine: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition.

—

Elaine: Ugh, there’s always that weak bitch in the group who isn’t down with murder.

Elaine: *glares at Leora*

Leora: Well, sorry I have morals!

—

Leora: What do you have?

Elaine: A KNIFE!

Leora: NO!

—

Leora: All the sudden I got a random burst of energy, and I think it's my body's last hurrah before it completely shuts down.

—

Leora: I'm feeling it! What am I feeling? Death, probably.

—

Elaine: That’s the longest worm I’ve ever seen.

Leora: That’s a snake.

—

Leora: Don't go to the kitchen.

Elaine: Why?

Leora: I saw a spider.

Elaine: Well, did you kill it?

Leora: It has 8 arms and I only have 2, it's not fair...

—

Leora: If you spell skeletons backwards, it still spells skeletons.

Elaine, deadpan: Wow, I can't wait for Halloween to see some snoteleks.

—

Leora: *mixing different alcoholic beverages together*

Elaine: What are you making?

Leora: A mistake.

—

Elaine: I can't believe you've done this.....

Leora: I'm sorry I didn't know-!

Elaine, on the verge of tears: YOU CAN'T JUST BUY ME A GIFT OUT OF NOWHERE NOW I FEEL LIKE A HUGE ASSHOLE!

—

Elaine: How do you want your coffee?

Leora: Black, like my soul.

Elaine:

Elaine: Leora, your soul is a latte.

—

Computer: Please enter a password.

Elaine: *types in “Leora”*

Computer: Your password is too weak.

Elaine: How fucking DARE YOU-

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 2: Magic Test

Narrated by Marina.

Narrator: The class has finally started. In my wizard robe, I'm sitting on a stool in the very front row.

Narrator: The bookshelves on either side of the classroom have all sorts of magic books sitting on them. They all come with mysterious-looking covers and change colors every now and then.

Narrator: Then, a man in a wizard robe - presumably our professor - walks into the classroom with a chunky textbook.

Marina: Wait, he isn't the one I saw in the video, though?

Cersei: The one you saw is the founder. He doesn't usually show his face.

Professor: My apologies for being late. I was trying to catch some ghosts on my way. I would like to welcome all of you to the School of Dark Magic and Witchcraft.

Professor: You may all have your own aspirations, but you all came here to accomplish one... to learn dark magic.

Professor: Before we begin, though, I need to assess where we all stand in terms of magical power.

Narrator: The professor mumbles some spells and points his average-looking wooden wand to himself. With it, the tip of the wand sparkles brightly.

Professor: You will be able to realize your wishes when you've gone as far as being able to do this!

Narrator: Everyone is thrilled and starts talking about what they're seeing. I, however, notice something out of the ordinary.

Narrator: The professor's movement seems awkward, as if he were trying to keep a certain distance between his sleeve and wand.

Narrator: When his sleeve is close to the wand, it shines brightly. Otherwise, it dims immediately.

Narrator: Aeon has done a similar experiment before! There has to be a device in his sleeve that sends signals to the wand, which is why the wand glows.

Marina: How silly! And here I thought I'd be able to learn actual dark magic. It's nothing more than a magic trick, then.

Narrator: The professor asks a few of us to go on the podium for tests. The wand only glows faintly when we hold it.

Marina: Which really isn't anything to be surprised about, because his sleeve is just too far away from the wand. Now, watch me rock!

Narrator: I hold Aeon's signal transmitter tightly in my hand that I took out of his lab and move closer to the wand, pretending that I'm trying to feel for it.

Narrator: And boom shakalaka! The wand glows so brightly that the entire classroom is showered in light now.

Professor: M-my, look at her! She has some rare talents. But we want to be careful still, because talents can sometimes entail destruction. Dark magic can become our worst enemy if we don't learn to master it...

Narrator: Something seems to be trickling down the professor's face. Sweat, I bet.

Narrator: Aeon made this signal transmitter with special materials from the Ark. Not really a surprise that it works so well.

Narrator: Cersei asks me to join her at the cafeteria after class and treats me to kiwi juice and a pumpkin donut.

Cersei: So I see you know what the professor was doing up there, Marina?

Marina: Yup, because I've seen my brother doing it many times already. And so do you?

Cersei: I came across these scam artists last year in Cicia, but they disappeared before I was able to find any evidence.

Cersei: I spent quite some time looking for them in Cicia, but never found them.

Cersei: I only knew they'd moved to Shadowflow when I saw their ad on the Internet around Halloween.

Cersei: Do you want to join me for the cause and see these people punished?

Narrator: I like that Cersei! Gathering evidence is so much more interesting than having to sit through some lame magic show.

Marina: Of course! Count Marina the Magical Detective in!

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

[dawnwritesstuff]

I wrote a story entirely on a whim texting nonsense to my friends but people said it was good and I should post it somewhere...

Soooo here you go however many humans see this :3

It stands there, still, motionless, just as it has for the past two days. You don't know why it is here, or how such a large towering structure was constructed in the few hours you were at work.

It sways slightly, side to side in a rhythmic motion that is almost hypnotizing.

You come back to it the next day, and stare at its mesmerizing motion for a few minutes, wondering what this odd material this is that it's made of.

It has a strange reddish color, and a texture resembling wet sand. When you dare to touch it, your hand moves easily through its mass, leading you to wonder how it is even standing.

It seems like it should collapse under its own weight, but there it is, standing tall and swaying with the wind.

Except, you notice with slight surprise, there is no wind. The air is completely still, almost eerily so.

You leave, put off by this bizarre and horrifying structure that materialized in the middle of your route to work. You tell nobody about it, not even your coworker Dave who takes the same road to and from work.

He hasn't seemed off at all in the past few days, so you assume he is somehow unable to see it despite its towering mass.

You come back the next day, after work, and stare at this oddity for around half an hour, trying to puzzle out what it could possibly be. A tower sent from heaven? Or a massive tendril of evil creeping from the pits of hell? An alien spacecraft? Some kind of spell or ritual? As you think about this, you catch yourself occasionally staring at its swaying motion, your mind going blank for a second. You decide to leave and come back later.

The next day, you bring a camera after work and try taking pictures of the tower. Unfortunately, it appears to malfunction, as whenever it is pointed at the tower, the button to take pictures seems to lose functionality altogether. You take a couple of pictures in other directions to see if it's a problem with your camera, but it works just fine when it's not facing the tower.

You stare at it for another few minutes before leaving, letting yourself slip slightly into its trance.

You come back the next day, even though it's a weekend, and stare at it for a full thirty minutes. The only reason you leave is because your favorite TV show is airing its next episode, and you want to get home before it starts.

You come back on Monday, before work this time, and stare at it for a while. It seems like it's only a few seconds, but you suddenly realize it's been almost an hour and you're late for work! You've never been late before, and your boss will most likely forgive you, but you realize this tower is causing a huge problem. You make up your mind to find a different route to work.

Hopefully, you won't be bothered by this tower again. On Tuesday, you nearly take the same route, but catch yourself and take another road. A few days pass without much event, but it doesn't get any easier to remember to use the new road. It's as if the old route and the tower are trying to pull you in, for whatever intent the tower has.

You try your best to stay on the new route, but at the end of the week, you find yourself on the old road, even though you had every intention to use the other one. You try to drive straight past the tower without looking at it, but you suddenly slam on the brakes as you reach it. It's as of your body is betraying you, controlled by the allure of the tower's hypnotic swaying.

You see Dave standing there, his car similarly haphazardly stopped, him staring at the tower like he's been there a long time. You realize you haven't seen him at work in a while, but you didn't think much of it because you were so focused on avoiding the tower. You walk up to him, meaning to greet him or say something about the tower and the fact that he can apparently see it, but you trail off as you see the tower. It seems to suck your mind into it, becoming your only item of focus. You can't imagine anything else exists while you look at it, and you can't look away.

You stand there, side by side with Dave, staring, for a full three days. You don't feel hunger or thirst during that whole time, just stare at the tower. Finally, on the third day, both of you take a small step forward, synchronized perfectly, then another, then larger steps, until you are almost running. You both reach the tower at the exact same moment, then you reach your hands out, touching its sandy surface, and slowly submerge your hands into it. You walk into the malleable surface of the tower your bodies slowly sinking into its surface, bit by bit, eventually leaving nothing but two abandoned cars behind you.

[angrytreemartensmain]

I rewrote a section of this

I think I did pretty good given the dogsh¡+ story this was in the first place

In the beginning, two races lived on Earth. Monsters and humans. Soon war broke out between the two races, and the humans won. They trapped the monsters in the underground with a powerful spell.

Many years later, a human would fall into the underground, and their life would never be the same again.

MT. Ebott 2023

You look around and realize you are on a bed of golden flowers. You stand up, careful not to aggravate your injuries.

"These flowers saved my life!- I'd better look around for a way out."

You limp over to what seems to be a door and seeing no other exit, you go through and find yourself at a small dirt patch where a plant must have been uprooted due to the hole in the dirt. Not thinking much of it, you keep going.

*Toriel POV

I was doing my rounds to the flower patch to water the flowers, and check for fallen humans when I noticed a young *insert gender identity* limping around the ruins, most likely looking for a way out. As much as I did not wish to frighten them, I was far too lonely to let them pass by without introducing myself. They seemed hurt, so I asked if they would like to come to my house for some proper medical attention.

*(Y/N) POV

What was thought: HOLY SHIT!

What was said: “Really? Thank you so much.”

*Toriel's POV*

I led the human through the ruins, they were very gentle and friendly. I was pleasantly surprised! When we got to my house, I sat the human on a chair and left to get the medical supplies. When I returned the child was sitting with their hands between their knees. I knew what they were thinking, and hoped they would stay awhile before they asked to leave. When they were bandaged up, they asked if they could stay until they were healed.

*(Y/N) POV

“But, of course, my child! You may stay as long as you wish!"

You were glad for this, because if the stories you had heard were true, then most monsters were bloodthirsty and vicious. You would never survive in this state. For about 3 months you helped Toriel around the house as a thanks for saving you and letting you stay with her. Soon, you began to wonder what was beyond the ruins. You decided to ask Toriel a question that you knew would break her soul in two.

"Hey, Tori?"

"Yes, my child?"

"I don't want to be rude, and you've been nothing but kind to me, but I think I want to leave the ruins."

"Go to your room, my child." Said Tori quietly.

"I have something I need to do."

She got us and went down the stairs you had been forbidden from using. You followed her down the stairs. You stayed quiet and kept following her to the end of a long corridor. At the end was a door with the same emblem that was on Toriel’s robe. You guessed it was the door that led outside. Tori turned around, startling you.

*Toriel's POV

"My child, do you really wish to leave so badly?"

"Mom, I-"

"QUIET! This is the exit to the ruins, and I am going to destroy it. No human will ever be able to leave again!”

*(Y/N) POV

"My child, if you wish to leave, you must fight me! You must prove you are strong! Prove to me that you are capable of defending yourself!"

A heart appeared in front of you. It was rapidly changing colors. Toriel held her paw in front of the heart for a few seconds. She looked confused for a moment, then sighed. The heart disappeared.

*Toriel POV

They have the strongest soul I have ever seen. Not just that, it is strong without LV. I do not even need to test them. They will have no trouble in the underground.

"Pathetic, is it not? I cannot stop even a single child."

(Y/N) Steps forward and hugs me.

I will never forget them.

*(Y/N) POV

As you break away from the hug Tori starts to cry. She requests that once you leave, you don't come back. You understand and agree. Tori hands you a (f/c) hoodie. You take it and wonder where she got it from as you put on the warm jacket. You pull the hood over your (h/c) hair. She opens the door for you and you step through, into the snowy forest. You hear a whimper coming from the forest. Hoping to help whatever is hurt, you veer off the path only to find a dog skeleton. But this skeleton was far from dead. It had a mane of bright red fire, and it was moving on its own. You could see its leg had a large crack in it. You take off your bandanna and tie it around the leg. Once the magic leak stopped, and it seemed like it could walk, you went back to the path. But it followed you. You looked back and noticed it had white glowing pinpricks for eyes. It was cool, but you shooed it away, and kept walking, only to find it still at your heels.

"Shoo! Go home!"

You paused.

"You...DO have a home right?"

It shook its head.

"No, huh?"

You decide to keep it as a pet. But it needed a name. You would choose one later you thought. You come to a log, and you jump over it with ease. You take a couple of steps and hear a loud splintering, a growl, and a yip. You whirl around to find a skeleton in a black fur-lined jacket, black basketball shorts, and a red turtleneck holding up the skeleton dog with magic.

*Fell POV

Stupid mut! gave me away. I could have left before the human saw me if it hadn't sunk its teeth into my jacket!

"HEY! PUT MY DOG DOWN!"

I turned to see who was speaking but already knew who it was.

"What do you want?"

I growled,

"I said. Put. My. Dog. Down."

I laugh and toss the mutt

into a snowbank.

*(Y/N) POV

You shudder. His laugh was somehow extremely attractive. You quickly run over to your little guardian and dig her out of the snow and hug her, all the while glaring at the grinning skele.

"What is wrong with you, jackass?? What did we ever do to you?"

*Fell POV

"Nothing”

"Then why-"

"In this world, it’s kill or be killed. If you give up, it’ll be easier on all of us. You and your dog are doomed kid. Just give up."

*(Y/N) POV

You lay your head on your guardian’s ribs. You feel tears sliding down your face out of sadness, fear, frustration, anger, and confusion. You feel someone sit down next to you in the snow.

*Red POV

Oh, geez. Red you idiot! You made them cry! I sit down next to the human. I try to think of something to cheer them up.

"H-hey. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm having a shitty day today and I just wanted to take it out on someone.”

Then I blinked and realized I was hugging them to my body. I shoved them away and tried to hide the fact that my face felt warm.

*(Y/N) POV

You stared at the blushing skeleton for a moment, then jumped up and started running. He most likely thinks you’re scared of him or angry at him and you are a bit of both, but you were also hoping to talk to him again under better circumstances.

*Edge POV*

I was looking for my lazy brother one day when I quite literally ran into a human. I was going to pelt it with puzzles when something bit my leg.

As I was yelling obscenities at whatever it was, the human managed to get away. I suspect my brother had something to do with it. I can tell because as I was whirling around like a ballerina, trying to knock whatever it was off of me, I saw a flash of red light, and the thing on my leg let go, I was a bit dizzy and was stumbling around too much to get a good look at the humans savor. I will ask Sans about it later when he gets off his sentry shift for the day.

*Red POV

The human was headed straight for my brother, and for some reason, I knew I had to save her. Of course, I'd save her stupid mutt, but it had better not bite me again. I teleported in time to see a hilarious sight of my brother swinging around wildly, trying to knock off the dog with had attached itself to his pant leg. I stared and filmed on my phone for a while before I remembered what I was there to do. I grabbed the dog off of Edge, grabbed the human by the waist, and teleported just as my brother was stabilizing himself.

I’m never letting him live this down.

*(Y/N) POV

You slowly open your eyes and hear the sounds of the skeleton you had seen earlier yelling at someone named Sans.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING??"

"Sorry boss I-"

"WHAT IF THE HUMAN TURNED OUT TO BE A THREAT?"

"Both times I met 'em’, they seemed pretty cool. They never attacked either of us, and it was the dog that seemed aggressive. Not them."

"SANS-"

"Listen, I don't know why but I have some sort of connection with them-"

"Hello? Where am I?"

The two skeletons looked at you.

"WELL HUMAN, YOU ARE AT THE DWELLING OF THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS AND HIS LAZY BROTHER SANS!"

*Red POV

We watched as a portal opened behind the human, and Ink fell out. Ink fell on top of the human, and I was both enraged and jealous.

*Ink POV

As I fell out of the portal, I noticed a human turn to see what was behind them. Their face was bright red. How cute! I got up and closed the portal. I apologized to the human.

*(Y/N) POV

The new skeleton was wearing a brown shirt, brown pants, and had a massive paintbrush strapped to his back. The only thing he was wearing that wasn't brown was a blue hoodie that was tied around his waist.

Old Fanfics

Why are they C R O N C H Y

And thats just some of the old fanfics I have

If this gets enough likes I’ll rewrite it for you

P.S.

[moremaybank]

being a member of the mystic falls gang and having klaus fall in love with you and woo you (headcanons)

being a member of the mystic falls gang and having klaus mikaelson fall in love with you & woo you would include…

klaus masterlist

klaus first noticed you at the homecoming party he threw at the lockwood mansion

"tyler, who's that girl standing over there with elena?"

"oh, that's y/n"

"y/n..."

he thought you were pulled right out of a magazine with your hair perfectly placed, your makeup to a tee and your dress hugging your curves, making you look exquisite

he was smitten and he hadn't even said 3 words to you

yet

he first spoke to you the night of caroline's birthday, when he had come to the forbes' household to heal caroline of her hybrid bite (which had been his fault)

"is there a problem?" he asked, a smirk on his lips

"well, let's see. you tried to use one of my friends to kill my best friend, so yeah, we have a problem. i don't like you"

"ouch. you barely know me, love"

"and i don't want to know you. so heal my friend and move along"

we've talked about klaus finding stubbornness to be quite endearing

so you know your disdain for him only reeled him in more

every interaction with him is the same

he's flirting like crazy

and you're just trying to get away from him

"seriously? you're at my favourite book store? i can't come here anymore"

"nonsense, sweetheart. this only means that we can carpool"

when you've chosen to buy 5 of the 10 books you were holding, klaus buys the ones you left behind and shows up at your doorstep with them in hand, and a smile

you want to slap that smug grin off his damn face

but you can't lie, it is a nice face

and there has always been something about him that's intrigued you like never before

but he's klaus mikaelson

the man's entire purpose for being in your town right now is so that he can torture all your friends and participate in ancient ass rituals

so you push those positive feelings for him that are starting to come to the surface back down

but then the man is showing up at your house with flowers when he hears that you've had a horrible day

he finds you working on your homework at the grille and brings you a coffee, knowing not to disturb you while you're in the zone

he invites you to the mikaelson ball, complete with a fancy ass ballgown

you put it on just to humour yourself

there's no way in hell you're really going

yeah right

but then you look at yourself in the mirror

damn

okay, what's the harm in going? all your friends are gonna be there anyways

you might as well just go and get some free drinks and hors-d'oeuvres out of it

you arrive

and your eyes lock with the blue eyes of a certain original hybrid

"y/n, you look stunning"

you spend the night dancing with him and you can't help but realize that your feelings of hatred are slowly turning into the exact opposite

the next morning you wake up to a bouquet of roses and a handwritten note from him, thanking you for your company

after the ball you begin to open up with klaus

when he shows up out of nowhere at the grille you actually agree to have a drink with him

and then you're there with him talking for hours about your childhood and the time you lost the second-grade spelling bee and cried

you hate to admit it but the more you spend time with klaus, the stronger your feelings are

he draws you one day and leaves the paper on your nightstand

when you get home you see the drawing and your jaw drops

his talent shook you to the core

and it was just another thing to love about him

yes, i said love

you've fallen in love with this man

the same man who you swore would never win you over with his dumb gifts and poetic words

but you can't help it

because you've seen the real him

and there is just so much to love

your friends aren't gonna like this

but then again

it's not their life

and they don't feel what you feel

~

a/n: literally on go mode right now. quick question, who's your favourite original and why? let me know🤪

[just-fan-fics]

Good thing

pairing: fezco x reader ; pronouns: any pronouns

summary: a guy gets you uncomfortable at a party, but Fezco steps up.

warning: none

a/n: reader doesn't have a specific description so anyone can read it. Also sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes, English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy :)

If you want to support me and my work click here: a coffee would be highly appreciated <3

---

You didn't want to come to this stupid party to be around stupid people in the stupid house of stupid Nate Jacobs, drinking this stupid liquid from this stupid plastic glass, but here you are now and there's nothing you could do to go back in time and stay home, so you decided to pour more liquid on your glass and look for someplace you could sit and wait for your friend to decide to finally go home.

You sit on a torn couch that's outside and look around spotting your friend in the living room dancing around with a drink in her hand. You keep looking around not knowing what to do, so you do the best next thing: you pick up your phone and start to scroll endlessly.

"Hey" a voice makes you look up from your phone. "Hello?" you reply confused as you've never seen this guy before.

"What are you doing here, all alone?" there is something in his voice that makes you keep more distance between the two of you. "Just waiting for a friend".

"I'll wait here with you until she comes" he says getting closer and placing his hand on your knee.

"It's okay, she won't be long, you don't need to stay" you awkwardly smile at him while squirming your knee from his hand.

"Come on, don't be like that" he smiles getting closer placing his hand back on your knee squeezing it a bit. "No, really you don't ha-"

"Listen, I'm trying to be nice here so why don't you shut up and let me stay" his stare on your hardens and you shallow hard now scared of doing something that will set him off. You move uncomfortably trying your best to get his hand out of your knee.

"Hey" a new voice says and you look up to be met by a guy with blue eyes. He looks at you. "Is this guy botherin' ya?"

You look at the other boy before looking back at him. You open your mouth to say something but the stupid guy beats you to it.

"Nah men we're just talking" he shrugs with a smile. "Talking? 'cause it looks to me that there's some'ing more goin' on here" blue eyes replies.

"Listen, mate, why don't you get the fuck out of here and leave us alone?" he gets up getting face to face with blue eyes.

He pays no attention to him and looks back at you. "Is this motherfucker makin' ya uncomfortable?"

"Mother-?" the guy starts to say but you talk over him. "Yes"

He turns to look at you and before he can say or do anything, blue eyes takes your hand and gets you away from him. He gives the stupid guy a killing look before walking through the sea of people, not leaving your hand once and leads you to an empty hall.

"Thank you" you say once you've stopped walking and made sure no one followed. "No need".

"No really, not a lot of people would have noticed yet do something about it".

"Fez"

"What?" you ask confused. "My name, Fez". "Y/n"

---

You are sitting again on the torn couch from outside but this time you are not alone, Fez is with you. You've both been talking for a while and it doesn't look like you'll stop soon.

He takes out a joint and looks at you. "Ya smoke?" he asks offering it to you. You shake your head. "Do you mind if I smoke?". "No, go ahead".

He lits it up and takes a drag of his joint before he blows the smoke out of his mouth while looking at you, and you swear that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “So, why you were alone? Ya came alone?” 

“Nah” you say while turning your body a bit and pointing with your finger to where your friend is still dancing unaware of the outside world. “My friend is over there”.

“Does she do this often” you look at him without fully comprehending what he is implying. “Leavin’ ya alone”.

“What? No” you deny immediately. “I usually don’t come to this partys, this house better said, but she dragged me here and she is very persuasive so I came.” you smile looking at him. “Is a good thing your friend dragged ya here” he says looking at you and taking another drag on the joint. 

You look at him not knowing what to say but guess your mouth had other plans. “Yes, it is”.

You can see him smiling looking the other way to hide the fact that he blushed a little, and you can’t help but smile too. You can explain what this weird feeling is or where is it coming from when you look at him, it’s so sudden but it feels so right and it warms up your heart. 

“D’ya dance?” he asks looking at you. “Now I do”

He takes your hand and drags you to the living room where everybody is dancing enjoying their night, and while he does that you can help but wonder what would’ve happened if you never came. Would you have met him some other time? Or perhaps, would your paths never cross each other?

You dance to the beat of the music getting closer and closer to one another, his hands end up on your waist moving with the music while yours stay on his upper arm. Your eyes never stop looking at his and for a second you can see his eyes travel to your lips and then back to your eyes. You smile making him smile back. His lips are getting closer and closer but stop at just a mere centimeter of your face waiting for your consent. Before you can even move someone dancing push you and make you crush your lips with his. 

You can feel him pulling apart but before he can, you cup his face in your hands and deepened the kiss. He pulls you closer to him while asking for entrance with his tongue, which you gladly accept. Your lips moving in perfect sync just like they were made for each other and your paths were meant to find one another. 

You both part to take a breath and smile at each other before pressing your lips back together again. “Can I see ya tomorrow?” he asks pulling just a bit. “Yes”.