#ive been waiting for an opportunity to try something like this for a long time

[sleepyyghostt]

youd think removing skin from a dead rat would be the most dreaded part of the process but actually the thing holding me back right now is the fact that the sun is too bright to walk anywhere to get the tools required for that. like sunlight make my head hurty is way harder to face than REMOVE DEAD RAT SKIN FROM SKULL. maybe ill change my tune once im actually at that part LOL. im finding myself very excited at the idea of challenging myself like this though. its gonna be disgusting and im not going to like it but im. like im gonna brave that. and get through it. and then once i do the rest of the cleaning process have an animal skull like ive always wanted. its gonna be so cool. and its gonna be even better knowing that im the one who did the challenging part of it myself rather than like. just buying something i want to collect. you know????? im excited to test myself and come out of it like. less grossed out by things. thats a benifit there. and its on easy mode anyway cause the bones look basically clean of flesh under there, and i just found it like that. nature done most of the work i just gotta remove the hide and probably bury it in a pot plant to clean up a bit more. ive learned online that leaving it out above ground works better, and those ravens hanging out lately would probably love to pick at itREALISATION. DID I STEAL THEIR MEAL. OH MY GODF. OKAYT. btw there are 4 ravens hanging out in my street the past couple days and i will befriend them if its the last thing i do ive been dreaming of this for years and my neighbor did the heavy lifting by leaving out all that food for them the other day. what was i saying. oh yeah i dont want my dog to like eat it and get sick obviously. then. maceration is also an option but my parents will find that too gross im sure. i did a ton of research this morning. after that is degrease in dish soap and water if needed and then soak in hydrogen peroxide mixed w water. that'll all be later tho. its going to be very interesting!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[writingchalamet]

Angels Like You IV

Angels like you I

Angels like you II

Angels like you III

AN: it’s here! Sorry for taking so long, my nephews have been staying with me this week and keep trying to look at my laptop while I write 💀

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: violence, blood, MATT (because everyone hates Matt) trauma, breaking and entering, SMUT, heavy petting, oral (f receiving) fingering.

You’re welcome…

Chapter IV

Matt didn’t like seeing you with Bucky one bit. The thought that you had moved on so ‘quickly’ after him sent his mind into overdrive. He was good at hinting in the shadows, the day he left the bakery beaten and broken he didn’t go to a hospital or return home like he should have, he waited. Watching in the shadows until you inevitably got in your car and drove home, where he followed, rage simmering inside him. He watched from a distance as Bucky ushered you into your house after collected his child. It was the first time he actually saw the kid, and he hated to say it but he felt a tingle inside him, not the warm fuzzy, loving feeling a father should feel when they see their baby for the first time. But one of hatred. The kid he laid his eyes on was the one thing that took you away from him.

So he bided his time. And watched. He learned your routine, your ins and outs of the house, learned how your new play thing never really left your side much. You hadn’t left the house much since the incident but he liked to spot your movements through the house, you almost worked like clockwork, around the house, doing everything for the child, he despised it, that should be him that you were running around for in there, taking care of, cooking for, god he missed your cooking. One thing he hated more though was the way he saw you and Bucky looking at each other, even through windows he could feel the tension, making him want to tear his own eyes out.

He just needed to wait for the perfect opportunity, and that came the night that Sam came and took the kid over to the neighbours house, Matt figured something must be going on, they must be leaving the house, he had a chance, a chance to do what exactly he didn’t know, but he’d figure that out soon enough. He saw your neighbours leave your house, then you and your new man head out looking all dolled up, he couldn’t stand the sight of it, he waited a while longer, waiting for all the lights to shut off next door before making his move, he travelled to the back of the house, hopping the fence, scurrying across the garden until he reached the back door, taking off his leather jacket, balling it around his fist, he smashed the panel of glass closest to the lock, reaching through the newly made hole, flicking the lock open and letting himself into your home.

He took in the scent as he stepped through the threshold. Bergamot and orange blossom tingled in his nostrils, the strong smell instantly reminding him of you. He wondered aimlessly at first, taking in the sight of your home. The warm homey touches that covered every inch of the house, it sickened him. The house was spottles, considering a toddler lived there, but then again, he had trained you well, he didn't like you to be messy, he was glad to see you still kept things tidy just how he liked. Not that he was clean. he ventured up the stairs to find a bedroom t the end of the hall with the word 'Forrest' hung on the door in Buntin. He guessed that was the name of his child, he still didn't know if it was a girl or a boy, you had kept that fact well hidden from him. He stepped towards the room, opening the door with a creek, finding an array of colourful toys, a Peter Pan mural painted on the walls and fluffy cloud lamps and light fixtures. Even the cot bed had been made pristine, this woman was conditioned he thought to himself.

He looked through the small chest of drawers under the changing table fiddling with some of the small shirts when his eye landed on one baby grow in particular, a 'mama's boy' one, it felt like another kick in the teeth to know he had a son, in some sick way to him it felt like another man to take you away from him. He wished you had never ran away, that he had never left that day so he would have been able to sort this whole problem out, there would be no Forrest, and it could just be the two of you again. No he'd have to sort out the Forrest problem another time, when the little bleeder was home.

He came out of the room and closed the door behind him. next finding your bedroom, the room smelt sweet like your perfume, the smell overwhelming him, he walked to your vanity noticing the makeup you had left out, you never wore makeup when you were with him, his mind hurt at the thought of you dressing up to go out with another man, he looked over at the bed, thinking about all the different things Bucky has probably done to you in that bed. Matt stormed out the room and back down the stairs until he found the Kitchen, deciding to wait there for your return, which apparently wouldn't be too long a wait. He heard the front door opening as well as the distinct sound of kissing, the occasional grunt and soft moans from you, He stood in the doorway of the kitchen waiting for you to notice him, only for him to realise you were to caught up to care there was an intruder in your house. He flicked the light on beside him, sparking your fright.

"Well, isn't this cosy?" he spoke smugly, head tilted, sly sile on his face, even with his hand all bandaged up and the dark circles under his eyes, he still acted as though he was God's gift to the earth. before you have a chance to explain yourself Bucky chimes in from his place behind you. arms strong and protective around your waist. "What are you doing here, Matt?" he oozed confidence when he spoke, and almost seemed unbothered. "Just come to take what's mine" Matt sneered, daring to take a step closer, Bucky tightened his hold around your waist as he felt you shiver. "Oh, yeah, and what's that exactly, because I don't think you own anything in this house..." Matt scoffed at his response, there was something wild in his eyes, you just couldn't tell what it was.

"You know, I had a nice look around, Forrest, that the name of my son? You could have picked a better name Y/n really, and leaving him with the neighbours so you can fuck some random guy? You really are a whore" You tore away from Bucky's arms leaping forwards, slapping Matt so hard across the face your hand ached, you could see you had left an indentation on his cheek, the skin flared red and raised slightly. "You don't get to say his fucking name, get out" Matt held his cheek, shocked that you would dare to speak to him that way let alone lash out at him, you had been away from him too long. He lifted his hand up and cupped your cheek in his hand, softly which shocked you, Bucky took a step forwards but soon stopped when he saw you signal him to still. You looked into Matt's eyes, noticing how dead his eyes truly looked. "Come back to me please, I love you. You can leave the kid here and we'll go" It frightened you how fast it was for his emotions to change. You took his hand of your face and let it drop by his side, shaking your head.

"I will never be with you, ever again, you need to understand that Matt, you can't keep doing this, please just leave us alone" You spoke quietly to him, hoping he would hear you out. A sad laugh left his lips , shaking his head, "I'll get you one way or another, whether I have to take you fighting or dead, but I'm not gonna lose you Y/n, I don't lose..."

“You already have” you knew you’d regret those words the second they hit your brain but you couldn’t stop your mouth from saying them. You saw the way his nostrils flared and how he gritted his teeth, you could practically hear them grinding together in his mouth, he yanked on your wrist pulling you closer to him, Bucky stepping even closer ready to pull him away, “you’ll fucking regret that, I’m gonna make you wish that little brat was never born” You closed your eyes expecting to feel pain as Matt raised his hand, but as quickly as it was raised, it was gone, for Bucky had put himself in between the two of you, pushing you away gently with one arm while attacking with the other.

The sound of bones crushing, and blood splattering rung through your ears. The image of Matt having his face repeatedly slammed against your kitchen counter both terrified and elated you. Seeing Bucky in this feral state made your heart thump uncontrollably out of your chest. You called out for him to stop but the sound was lost to the deafening sound of Matt's cries. Through the commotion of the yelling and the sound of things smashing to the ground you missed the sound of Sam entering the house through the front door shield in hand. Sam ran over attempting to tear Bucky away, Bucky's face turning to horror once he saw what he had done. He stood over Matt's body watching his face swell and weep with blood, as he screwed himself into the foetal position on the floor, coughing and spluttering all over the tiles.

Blue and red flashing lights surround the kitchen as the promise of help fills the room. "You Okay man?" Sam asks nodding at Bucky, he stayed silent, giving a sharp tilt of his head, stretching out his fingers on his virbranium hand, wiping the blood off onto his shirt. You went to his side, stroking your hand down his chest hoping to gain his attention, his eyes met yours, but they were shallow, you touched his face softly, making sure his eyes stayed on you "You're okay, thank you for protecting me" He wrapped his arms around your shoulders pulling you flush against him, burrowing his head in the crook of your neck. "It's- (coughs) cap- Captain America" Matt spluttered out, a combination of drool and blood oozing from his mouth, he seemed delirious after taking several punches to the head. "Yeah, and you're in a whole lotta trouble" Sam scoffed, turning to open the front door as the police and paramedics came up the drive.

After being checked over and giving statements to the police, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of Matt being handcuffed in the back of an ambulance, with the promise from the police that not only breaking and entering, but breaking his restraining order and continued harassment should be enough to keep him behind bars, if not only for a while, you were free.

Yourself and Bucky were sitting on the couch in your living room, the both of you quiet, not knowing what to say to one another. You decided to make the first move, opting to face him on the sofa, sitting cross legged opposite from him. His head turned in query as to what you were doing, but soon turned to face you. "So, what a way to end a first date..." you let the words linger, searing his face for any sign of amusement. A small smile lifted to his lips as your words sunk in, his head tilting towards you. "It was a date huh?" he smirked, eyes lighting up a tad more, losing the dullness that had reached them earlier. "We went for dinner, we laughed and you kissed me, then you saved me from Matt, I'd say that's a pretty successful date, wouldn't you?" You leaned forwards, brushing hand along the vibranium limb that sat along the back of the sofa. He laughed nodding. "So you had a good time up until the end?" he queries. "I had a great time, the entirety of it, no one has ever stood up for me the way you do, I'm really grateful...I just wish we hadn't been interrupted" You could feel yourself drawing closer to him, the magnetic buzz between you was back.

Bucky inched closer to you, his face mere centimetres from yours, his breath was warm across your face, he smelt like his cologne and a tint of dried blood, it was enough to send you into a frenzy. "What would you have wanted to happen if we were uninterrupted?" He bumped his nose against yours, tilting your head to the side, gliding his nose over neck, smelling your sweet scent, brushing his lips against your neck with feather light touches. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me, you can take whatever you want" your breath was nothing more than a gasp as he kissed his way up your neck. "Careful, doll, I might actually do it" his breath fanned your face as he kissed around your cheeks, and jaw. He felt the way your fingers dug into the metal of his arm. "I want you to Bucky" in one swift movement he hauled you into his lap, his arms encasing your body, you squeaked as he lifted you, laying your hands on his broad shoulders feeling the muscles under his shirt. Smoothing over the soft fabric. His own hands wandered, feeling over the silk of your dress, slipping the fabric and bunching it up at your thighs, you gasped at the cool feeling of the metal hand digging into your flesh.

His lips delved in first, yours meeting in the meeting, melting together, melting together in a frantic fashion. His tongue brushed along your bottom lip, asking for access, you opened your mouth wider gladly receiving him. His tongue massaged its way into your mouth gliding along your own tongue. You gripped his shoulders a little tighter, his flesh hand gliding up the front of your body, in between the valley of your breast, settling around your neck. He kissed you as if he had kissed you a thousand times before. It felt natural. You started moving your hips against his, slowly and unintentional at first, but at first sound of your pleasure, Bucky soon started guiding your hips, working you back and forth loving the sounds of the soft mewls coming from your mouth. “Good girl, lie back for me”  

You settled back onto the sofa, leaning your head on the arm rest, Bucky settled between your legs, continuing to kiss and nip at your neck while you got yourself comfortable, you giggled as his stubble tickled the sensitive skin between your neck and collar bone, throwing your head back against the arm rest. “God, I want to hear that sound for the rest of my life” he muttered as he kissed his way down your chest, his hands massaging their way over your body, squeezing at your breasts, you moaned his name quietly urging him not to stop. “I could listen to that too” His vibranium hand pushed up the silk skirt of your dress until it was fully bunched up around your waist, exposing the most precious lacey white underwear he’s ever laid his eyes on. He nuzzled his head into your sternum holding onto your waist tightly, kissing your stomach, he noticed small scars the further he pushed your dress up, some obvious burn marks where Matt must have put out cigarettes on you, others small, jagged like the one on your face. He noticed the slight hesitation in your eyes as he kissed over your stomach. “You’re beautiful you know that” you nodded, eyes fluttering as he headed further down south.

“Tell me to stop at any time, I just want you to feel good okay” your eyes met and you watched as he settled between your thighs, placing each of them over his shoulders, you swore you had died and gone to heaven, the sight of the beautiful blue eyed man kissing the soft skin of your inner thighs, swearing only to make you feel good. His arms wrapped around your waist once more pulling you closer to him, the force making you let out a straggled moan. Bucky pressed a kiss to your covered pussy, a shiver running up your spine. He continued to kiss at the bundle of nerves through the lace of your underwear, your back arching upwards in pleasure.

Moving his vibranium hand down he slipped the material to the side, pressing a cool metal digit onto your clit, swirling in circles, you gasped, hips jutting forwards, his flesh hand around your waist, pinning you back down holding you in place. You watched him as he stared at your pussy, glistening with arousal for him, dripping down onto the sofa, he looked like a hunter waiting to dine on his prey, you only opened your legs a little further for him, encouraging him in. Not a second later he dived in.

Lips wrapping around your clit, sucking and kissing it with the perfect pressure, you weee sure your head would explode, he swirled his tongue around the pulsing nerve enjoying the whimpers and moans that escaped your lungs, he looked up while continuing his assault, watching the way your chest would rise and fall, how your head had fallen back on the arm rest, exposing your neck, breathing so heavily the vein stuck out on your neck. He reached up with his flesh hand, palming your left breast, your back arching into his touch.

He licked at the entrance of your cunt, sucking up some of the wetness that had dripped out, “Bucky” you moaned his name for the first time sending vibrations through his entire body, straight to his cock. “You like that doll?” You nodded letting out another staggered moan as he fucked his tongue into your hole. He could feel your walls clenching around his tongue, he withdrew the muscle only for you to sit up in protest, you whine at the loss of contact but soon that turns into a whine of pleasure when one of metal digits enters you instead. Your eyebrows furrow in pleasure, sitting up on your elbows so you could watch him better.

You saw the smirk on his face while he slowly entered you, seemingly rubbing all the right spots, the cool of the metal mixed with the searing heat of your walls creating a beautiful blend of warmth. “That feel better babydoll?” Your brain couldn’t comprehend words at this current moment, your back arching and head falling back onto the sofa arm once more. “I’ll take that as a yes” he spoke smugly, working his finger in and out, applying the perfect amount of pressure, lips reattaching to your clit.

You could feel a heat raising inside you, one that you had never reached with another person before. You tangled your fingers through his hair, tugging him impossibly closer to your heat. You were panting, hips rutting into his face, you were sure you’d never felt this level of pleasure in your life. He soon found your g spot, softly nudging it over and over again, earning himself a lewd moan of his name, he could feel your walls clenching and spasms around his finger, he knew you were close, looking up loving the sight before his eyes. Sweat kissing your skin, mouth ajar with gasps and moans, chest raised to the sky. You were right there. “Be a good girl y/n, I want you to cum”

He spoke into your cunt and you fell apart. A scream making its way from your lungs while you writhed. He sucked and lapped up all the juices as they dripped from your pussy, sucking you dry, your body shaked and you felt yourself going limp. Bucky lifted himself up settling above you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, you involuntarily moaned at the taste of your essence on his lips. He pulled back smiling like a Cheshire Cat. “Did you enjoy that” with your legs still trembling beside his hips and a blissed out look on your face, it should have been telling enough. “You have no idea, no one has ever made me feel that good before, you sergeant James Barnes may have just ruined masterbating for me for life” you sighed, throwing your head back dramatically. He laughed , leaning forwards to press another kiss to your lips. He settled down after a moment, laying his head on your chest, listening to the thrum of your heart, while your fingers combed through his hair. You can’t remember a time that you felt so at home and relaxed while not with your son.

The two of you laid there most the night, talking away, sharing the odd kiss, and eventually falling asleep in the same position, only waking when the first sight of sunlight streamed through the living room curtains. The sight of the man still sleeping soundly, on your chest with his arms wrapped snuggly around you, you felt complete and safe, for the first time in a long time.

Tag list:

@unaxv @mrsnikstan @ilovetaquitosmmmm @scott-loki-barnes @lilyyxoii @cakesandtom @senjoritanana @meganwritesfanfics @onceithough @floralwsloki

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

Once More IV

A/N: I bet a lot of people thought it would never happen. But it happened. I finally finished the update in a way that satisfies me. I only anticipate one more update (total of 5 chapters). Hopefully you all find the update worth the wait. The final chapter will be out before the end of the year. I promise!

Word Count 2.9k

Warnings: None Masterlist

For the first time since the loop began, you did not wake up with a start. Instead, you lay there, eyes closed as you drifted back into existence. The overwhelming weight of your situation was not all consuming. At least, not as it had been before. The heavy weight no longer felt crushing, it was almost bearable. 

You decided to focus on all the things you could do instead. All of the possibilities seemed real now. For the first time in a long while, the days didn’t blur together as they had before. There was a clear distinction now, the panicked and frustrated time in the loop, and the carefree adventures with Spock. 

Adventures with Spock. You couldn’t help but laugh. That was never something you would have ever imagined in your wildest dreams, and now? Well, now you found yourself hopelessly replaying the previous loops with Spock. At the forefront of it all was your conversation with Uhura and Erica. They were sure about tension between you and Spock. To be more exact, tension and lingering looks. 

You supposed there had been glances between the two of you before the loops happened, and since…that was a revelation you weren’t prepared for yet. Your time in the loops had given you opportunities to get to know Spock in ways you hadn’t anticipated. It was unexpected, remarkable, and thrilling. There was no one word you could pinpoint for your situation, your developing bond with him. 

It wouldn’t be that bad being stuck in the loop with Spock for the foreseeable future. Each day a new start with no consequences. Just chances to know each other in ways that you’d never anticipated. A life free of everything. 

Everything. 

You paused. While being stuck in a world with no consequences seemed to be thrilling, you thought of your friends. In all your loops you hadn’t thought of anything outside of you and Spock. Were they also stuck in some type of frozen temporal loop, but unaware? Or worse, were you and Spock stuck in a pocket dimension where your time no longer ran parallel with that of your friends. Were they living their lives like normal - time moving forward, and you were stuck here?

You got dressed, your mind reeling with newfound anxiety. You’d been so caught up trying not to think of the loop that the repercussions hadn’t crossed your mind. You grabbed your data pad heading towards the door. 

Opening the door, you were met with Spock’s stoic gaze. You leaned back slightly, only somewhat surprised to see him standing in front of you. Enough loops had passed that his presence had become expected, wanted, needed. 

You looked at him, his uniform pressed neatly, his hair back to its usual pristine appearance. But his eyes, his eyes looked just as lost as yours. Spock’s humanity always betrayed him when it came to his gaze. 

“Good morning,” you smiled at Spock, trying your best to silently read him. Thoughts of the last loop flashed through your mind. Your newfound feelings bubbling within you. You might have stumbled upon new feelings for him, new desires for your time together, but that didn’t mean he felt the same. You tried to rapidly crush the newly festering fear of rejection creeping up inside of you. 

“Good morning,” Spock repeated, giving you a nod. He stayed by your doorway, his eyes taking in your face. 

You took a breath, emotions swirling around you hurricane,  “I was thinking-” 

“I believe I have discovered-” 

You both paused to look at the other. Your eyes locked on his. There was something there in his eyes, a fleeting look that you couldn’t quite place. 

“Excuse me, Lieutenant?” 

You both turned to look at Sigala, right on time with two cups of coffee in his hands. 

“Sigala,” you started. Your eyes blinking in delayed recognition. You watched as he wordlessly offered you the coffee. 

“May we speak in private?” Spock interjected, his eyes trailing from Sigala to yours. 

You blinked in surprise as both men glanced at each other and then you. “Uh, yeah. Thank you, Sigala, but I’m good. I’ll, uh, see you later?”

“Sure,” he nodded at you, “I’ll see you in engineering.” He spared one more curious look at Spock, offering you both a friendly smile, before making his way down the hall. 

You stepped aside to let Spock into your quarters. He walked past you, standing at the center of your room awkwardly. He tucked his hands behind his back, his posture rigid. 

“Spock, are you okay?”you asked softly, crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

“Okay is not a quantifiable term. I would not use okay to describe-”

“Spock, what is it?” 

“I have been to analyze the storm that is causing the anomaly, however, I have not found any new significant data to determine the likely cause. It would appear that there is no correlation between the storm and the anomaly, yet, there seems to be a close relationship between the two.” 

You swallowed, rubbing your face, before you sat on a nearby chair. 

“This is impossible, Spock,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. You felt Spock standing in front of you. You opened your eyes to see him giving you an understanding gaze. 

“I thought,” you took a breath, looking away from him, “Yesterday, I actually thought maybe I would be okay with being stuck here in this loop. I mean, it hasn’t all been too bad. But this morning? All I could think about was everyone on board this ship, are they stuck in a frozen temporal loop? Or are we stuck in a pocket dimension where we are stuck here, and everyone else is moving forward? I just-” You hesitated, unsure of what you really wanted to say. 

You dared to look at Spock, his face was devoid of emotion. His head tilted to the side as he looked down at you. 

You felt your own eyebrows furrow the more he looked at you. “Spock?” you asked quietly, a frown appearing on your face. 

“Spock?” You tried again. 

“I had not thought of that,” he said simply. A curious expression formed on his face. 

You scoffed at his response, “Hadn’t thought of what? That I’m more selfish than I come across?” 

Spock shook his head once, “No, that everyone else is moving forward in time, and that we are stuck in place.” 

“What?” You said flatly. 

“We have always considered that we are stuck in a loop, however, we have gone under the assumption that everyone is stuck with us as well. What if we are the only ones truly stuck, and time has warped around us?” 

You stood up from your chair standing directly in front of Spock. “Are you saying that you think there might actually be a way to get us out of this loop?” 

“We will have to try to gather as much data of the anomaly as we can within the next few loops before we can determine a plan, but yes, I do believe we can.” 

You let out a shaky breath, almost unwilling to believe what Spock had just told you. Crossing your arms across your chest, you found your gaze shifting to the floor. 

“Do you truly believe that you are selfish?” 

You froze, your blood rushing in your ears. Swallowing thickly, you kept your gaze on the ground. “Yes,” you whispered. “How else would you explain not bothering to think of our friends once?” 

“On the contrary, you have thought of our friends at every turn. I recall the look of anguish on your face when Christine collapsed in medbay.” 

You fixed your eyes to Spock, he was looking at you softly, gently. 

“Why else would ensign Sigala bring you coffee everyday? You were the first to befriend and mentor him when he was assigned to the Enterprise.” 

“How-” 

“Ensign Uhura speaks very fondly of you. Lieutenant Ortegas as well.” 

You could feel tears beginning to form in your eyes, you tried your best to blink them away. 

“I also think very fondly of you.” 

You let out a watery laugh, before the tears began to fall freely. Spock stepped forward, tentatively he reached out, placing a hand on your arm. You leaned forward and hugged him. Spock was stiff to start, until slowly, he wrapped his arms around yours. 

He held you close for as long as you needed. You breathed deeply in his arms, comforted by the gentle thrumming of his heart. When you could manage, you slowly began to pull away, your hands pressed flat against his chest as you looked up at him. 

“I’m very fond of you too, Spock,” you said serenely. When your eyes met his you could swear as if everything around you had stilled. Nothing around you was real, nothing but the feeling of you pressed against him. 

The chirping of your data pad caused you to jump, clearing your throat you pulled away from Spock. 

You grabbed your data pad off the nearby table, eyes scanning over the newfound data. 

“The anomaly” you blurted out. “It was there for a second, the readings…if we could just get a better idea of the storm…” 

“I will report to the bridge and scan for data.” 

You gave Spock a nod, “Report back at lunch?” 

Spock gave you a nod in reply and walked out your door. You were left standing in the middle of your room staring at the door. 

What in the hell just happened?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You tried your best to covertly pinpoint the anomaly. You’d been typing away at your station for the better part of the morning. You’d done your best to dodge questions about your late arrival. Engineering was usually too swamped with work to question anything further, most people shrugged off your excuses and got straight back to work. 

A blinking light caught your attention. The anomaly. You gave the board your full attention, fingers flying over the screen as you tried to find the exact location of the anomaly. Your eyes scanned the screen trying to retain as much information as you could before you would inevitably lose it. 

“Lieutenant L/N? Is everything alright here?” 

You glanced up at Commander Pelia. She was giving you an all knowing expression, one that left you more confused than ever. 

“Yes, I just-” your eyes flicked back towards the screen. It was gone again. 

“Stranger things have happened,” she shrugged. “I suppose you would know something about that.” 

“Commander -” 

“No matter, you should be getting off to lunch now.” Pelia smiled warmly at you. “I hear that a storm-like electrical field was converging around the time of your anomaly. Perhaps there is a pattern there.” 

With a final smile, Commander Pelia left you. She couldn’t, there was no way Pelia knew about the loop. Was there? She would tell you. Wouldn’t she?

You were getting ready to leave for lunch when Sigala found you. You nearly slammed into him when you rounded the corner. 

“I just wanted to say I’m happy for you,” he smiled at you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What are you talking about?” 

“You and Spock, I always suspected he might have a thing for you. I’m glad it worked out.” 

“What? I don’t-” you stammered. 

“This morning - oh,” he paused, “Are we not telling anyone yet? Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.” Sigala just smiled at you before he walked back to his station. 

You stood nearly speechless before you turned to walk towards the mess hall. You tried not to think of the implications of what Sigala had told you. 

Was it really that obvious to everyone but you?

Rounding the corner to the mess hall, you made your way inside. It was loud, people laughing and eating without a care in the world. You envied it. 

Worrying your lip, your eyes searched for Spock. You found him sitting alone in the far corner of the room. A small bowl of soup in front of him. He was typing away on his data pad, paying no attention to the people around him. 

“I think I have a theory,” you said, taking a sit across from him. 

Spock tore his eyes away from his data pad to look at you. 

“I think the storm and the anomaly are acting together - or maybe one is causing the other to react leading to the loop. If we can track when each appears we might be able to figure out the relation to the other. And maybe we might be able to time something to help get us out of the loop. Like hitting a manual reset.” 

“I believe that might work. Provided we can recognize and record any potential patterns.” 

“I was thinking I might commandeer a shuttle and go into the storm,” you shrugged, “Worse that can happen is I die and we reset.” 

You could feel Spock’s eyes on you, but he said nothing. 

“Are you going to finish that soup? I’m starving,” you reached over and took the bowl in your hands. 

“No.” 

You dropped the spoon, “No, like you’re going to finish the soup or no-” 

“No, you will not be commandeering a shuttle.” 

“Why not? I mean, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Pelia actually might have given me the idea. That would be the best way-” 

“No.” 

“What do you mean, no?” 

“It is too dangerous.” Spock was giving you a hard look, one you were not accustomed to seeing on his face. 

“How? I’ll just reset-” 

“You are assuming that you will still reset far away from the Enterprise. There is no logic in assuming when it has not been done before.” 

“There’s no way to know unless we find out, and I’m willing to take the risk.” 

“I am not,” he said firmly. 

“Well it’s a good thing that I’ll be the one going then,” You shrugged.  

“No you will not,” he argued. 

“Spock-” 

“Do you not realize why?” 

“You’re my friend and you’re worried. You -” 

“Have you any idea what it has been like to watch you die and not be able to do anything about it? To be helpless while you die in my arms?” 

You stared at him, frozen in place. You’d never thought about it. Each loop flashed before you in your mind, Spock watching desperately as you gasped for breath or bleed to death in front of him. 

“I didn’t realize,” you said lamely. 

“When I said I was fond of you I do not believe you understood my true meaning.” 

“Spock,” you breathed out. 

“Each loop has brought me closer to you. Let me discover and understand you in ways I had not anticipated. What I am sure Ensign Uhura and Lieutenant Ortegas have implied is true. I had once believed it was illogical to pursue the growing feelings I was developing for you.” 

You watched him intently, he stood now, his body walking directly in front of you. You found yourself standing, watching as he took a steadying breath. 

“However, I now believe it would be illogical to hide from the truth. While I am Vulcan, I am also human. I can no longer deny the want - the need for your companionship. I care for you,” Spock tentatively reached for your hand. He paused, his fingers ghosting over your own. “More than I can adequately express with words or with logic.” 

You could feel eyes on you, no doubt the entirety of the mess hall was watching you both intensely. But the only person you could truly see was Spock. 

He was looking at you with a tenderness you had never dared to imagine. Your hand reached out for his, when your pointer finger brushed against his own, you watched as his eyes closed, his breath coming more quickly. 

You repeated the motion, stepping forward closing the distance between you both. Your other hand reached out to cup his cheek. Spock’s eyes opened slowly, his eyes boring into  yours. Gingerly, Spock leaned down pressing his forehead against yours before he captured your lips with his own. 

It is agonizingly but deliciously slow. You could hear murmurs of those around you, but none of that mattered to you. All that mattered was the feel of him against you, everything else didn’t matter. 

When you broke apart, Spock pressed his lips against your forehead taking slow steady breaths. 

“I think,” you breathed, “I know,” you smiled, “ I have fallen in love with you.” 

Spock pulled you close against him in an embrace. 

“We’ll figure out another way,” you whispered. “I know we will.” 

“Agreed,” he said hoarsely. 

You pulled back to look at him, giving him a soft smile. “You ready to start over? I think we gave them enough of a show.” 

“I believe I am,” you could see the faint twinge of a smile on his face. 

You turned to look at the audience in front of you, “Have I ever mentioned the time loop we’re stuck in? The endless Thursday?” 

A beat went by before alarms started to blare overhead. Spock took your hand in his. Your eyes were only on him as the crew in front of you started to panic. 

“I may have an idea on how to possibly terminate the loop,” Spock said. 

“Can’t wait to hear it,” you whispered, pulling your lips to his once more before the light consumed you both.

---------------------------------------------------

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[pinknipszz]

golden girl

↷ ˊ- neteyam/metkayina reader | (i.), (ii.), (iii.), (iv.)

“every day, people came to see the girl without any name”

neteyam tried so hard to find some semblance of his home in the sea, but how could he when they were nothing alike? he scorns the sand and salt that replaced the sweet smell of morning dew and soft soil. he misses the trees he used to climb to and fro. there’s beauty in the mangroves, of course, but nothing compares to home.

his heart ached bitterly at the thought. as if i’ll ever see it again. neteyam returned to cleaning his bone knife in a shaded spot that overlooked the beach. the spot put a great distance between him and the salty water, but it was enough to keep a close eye on his siblings playing near the shoreline. he wasn’t asked to by anyone, but old habits die hard. 

they splashed about like babies, having given up on their efforts to convince him to join them. it’s not like he minded; he was still exhausted from the breathing lessons a few hours prior. 

his ear twitched at the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. he kept his eyes trained on the curved bone knife, not sparing a glance at the quiet weight beside him. neteyam bit his cheek. he waited and waited, expecting to hear his mother’s voice, or even his father ready with another lecture. when he heard neither, he finally looked to see who was invading his space.

it was you, the beautiful metkayina girl who took the liberty of teaching tuk one-on-one.

it was by some miracle really. you weren’t even supposed to be on that side of the beach that day, but by ewya’s will, you went against your mother and stumbled upon a very frustrated ao’nung and a pitiful batch of sully children. you didn’t have plans to interfere, until you caught sight of sweet tuk struggling to mount her ilu. apparently, something in her expression moved you to lend a helping hand.

ao’nung jumped at the opportunity to abandon his duties and join his friends, leaving the omatikaya at your mercy. thankfully, you have been merciful, far more than anyone else has been. you spoke with unending patience and guided their hands to the right place, going so far as to reposition neteyam's legs when he mounted incorrectly. your touch was brief, but the sensation lingered.

the sun was long gone by the time you finished. you left first, not before bidding farewell with a single promise to help tuk, and the others, again if necessary. as you spoke, he caught the fondness in your eyes when you smiled at him. kiri and lo’ak quickly caught on as he watched your disappearing figure.

days passed like this. lessons with ao’nung and tsireya resumed with you occasionally joining them, and the sully kids made great progress. it was admirable, really, how much you balanced them out. you were kind, but also stern when you needed to be. you came up with solutions that accommodated everyone, not without establishing your own objectives. you had every quality of a leader. even the chief’s children looked up to you.

and you were sitting beside him, right now. 

“are you alright?” you asked with a kindness that made his heart clench. neteyam quickly rid himself of those thoughts. you were just a good person checking up on him, he reasoned.

“yeah, ‘m still tired from the lessons. i didn’t even know I could stay underwater for that long.” he shuddered at the memory. it was only half a lie—spun up in a spur of the moment to spare the details of his homesickness and thoughts of you. whatever it was he said, it made you laugh, and neteyam swore he never heard a sweeter sound.

“i understand how difficult it is. on the bright side, you beat your brother’s record of four minutes. don’t tell him i said that, though.” the corner of his lips quirked up into a smile at the mention of his brother. “it’s a commendable achievement worth sharing with your parents later.” 

“you’re right, but the glory won't last long. he’ll stay up all night trying to regain his honor.”

“i suppose he is quite competitive.” you hummed, watching his siblings play tag in the distance. “still, i am amazed by your willingness to learn our ways. you are a quick learner.” it was a brief compliment, but he still scratched the back of his neck and chuckled, growing shy under your praise.

however, at the mention of his "willingness" to learn, he faltered.

neteyam was no stranger to guilt. he was born into war as the eldest of four; it was a dangerous concoction. it felt different when he looked at you, one of the few who didn’t think they were alien trash, as if he wasn’t thinking ill of your home just a few moments prior.

and here you were, praising him for something he doubts he possesses. guilt sat like a stone in his stomach. 

he cleared his throat. “honestly, i doubt we would’ve made it this far on our own. you and tsireya were a huge help. we owe you guys big time.”

“nonsense!” you laughed as if it was the most preposterous thing. you reached out to pat him gently, and you pulled back just as fast. his skin burned from the loss of contact. “we only do half the work while you guys do the rest. progress wouldn’t come so easily if you didn’t appreciate the work you're doing. tsireya and i can’t control that kind of stuff.”

neteyam nodded, his mouth dry. you babbled on and on about nonsensical things, like how your day went and how a new necklace was coming along, and he greedily soaked them up. he studied you, meanwhile. have you always been so perceptive? his heart rattled in his chest—from guilt or infatuation—he didn’t know what, but it pumped through his veins like adrenaline.

he loved the forest—loves it still. he doubted any amount of time at sea would change that for him, but you enraptured him to a degree he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

(masterlist)

[sugarcoatedcherry]

hello! I’ve been staying off of tumblr for months now because idk it’s kind of toxic, but I’ve been doing the wbtb + lucid dream method & Ive gotten close to the void state. So on June 20th, I had a lucid dream & I fell back to get into the void state & everything was turning black + it was getting hard to breathe & I couldn’t open my eyes, so I panicked & woke up. Then I had a couple more lucid dreams during the next few months, but I didn’t take the opportunities because of the first experience. Then on December 10th, I had another lucid dream & this time I attempted to get into the void state again, so I fell back & I was just seeing a lot of images & it was taking a while to get into the void state, so I tried waking up from that “lucid dream,” but my body was very paralyzed, so I waited a couple more seconds until I panicked again, so I woke myself up again. But then I woke up & since I was still kind of tired, I decided to try again. So I tried again & it literally went the same as the first time. So my question is when having a lucid dream & falling back, how long does it take to get into the void state? Am I doing something wrong? Can you help me or can anyone who knows a lot about lucid dreaming & the void state help me?

from what it seems, you have created a subconscious block that falling backwards is scary and can't enter the void. And lucid dream is a projection of your subconscious mind. I don't want to be that "reprogram your subconscious mind" girlie but this has to do with your void concept. I recommend trying Astral Projection. Or following other ways to enter void, like - asking someone else or creating a portal

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

Imagine: Mike is back at his mall security guard job, and reader works at the support desk, but more specifically; is in charge of the lost and found.

1st time was because he found an forgotten phone (or something), and was told to take it to the lost and found, where he first met reader.

Then he starts being extra vigilent when walking around, looking for any item that looks misplaced or lost, no matter how unimportant, just as an excuse to go to the lost and found to talk to reader

(Ive never done this before, so sorry if i did anything wrong!)

lost and found | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none! just a nice little fluffy piece about a sad sad man lol <3

to the asker, i hope you know that i saw this in my inbox and literally squealed, i was waiting for someone to drop a mike request

i hope that this is to your liking, i was going back and forth trying to decide how to start this off and coming up with tiny little ideas to add

also this probably goes without saying, but i have never worked at a mall nor interacted with mall staff if i can help it so if anything sounds off, feel free to correct me

to anyone who also writes on tumblr, pls tell me how you avoid using y/n, i tried to work around it as much as possible but some times just called for it

you hold your polite (albeit strained) smile to the blubbering woman walking away, unsure what to do with yourself as whoever she stands with rubs her back in comfortable circles. another lost wedding ring, gone to the test of time as long as the mall shall live: it's not that you didn't feel bad but after wedding ring #120, you kind of start to get used to the routine of things. lost and found wasn't your first choice when you first started working here but as long as you were getting a paycheck, you weren't going to complain. your side of the mall was rarely visited anyway, giving you the opportunity to do plenty of people watching when you weren't rummaging through piles of lost sweaters and purses.

you let out a quiet sigh once the customers are gone, sitting back in your seat and picking up the book you had once been reading; not like there was anything better to do. fully immersed in your book, you don't even notice the footsteps coming up to the counter. "um, hey." you jolt a bit at the sound of a voice, your gaze snapping from your book to whoever is standing only a few feet away. you have to hold back your reaction when you meet his eyes, tired but trying their best to look interested; it takes you a second to realize this is security and not another customer. "shoot, sorry." you mumble with an awkward smile as you sit up, resting your book in your lap to give the man in front of you your full attention. "how can i help you?" with a thin-lipped smile, he holds up a purse; from the looks of the logo on it, it's obvious this is designer.

you whistle as you take the purse from him, examining it with raised eyebrows. "well, you don't see this everyday. someone should come back for it, thanks." you say, flashing a grin at the security guard as he gives you a much more genuine smile. "no problem. if i had known lost and found got to see stuff like this, i would have put in to work over here instead." he says with a chuckle, folding his hands in front of him as he leans on the counter. "oh, we don't get interesting stuff that often, i promise you." you say with a roll of your eyes, putting the purse behind the counter; anyone in their right mind would come back for this thing. "enlighten me." before you can say something, the security guard outstretches a hand to you with a smile. "i'm mike, by the way. i work security." he says as you shake his hand, raising your eyebrows at him playfully. "(y/n). to give you some insight into how very little happens here, try and guess how many gachapon toys i have behind this counter."

and just like that, you've made a friend; not that you'd admit that mike wasn't sore on the eyes this soon. you just found it easy to talk to him considering you had never seen him around up until this point. after your first meeting, mike would regularly stop by whether he had something lost to leave with you or not: if you were lucky, he would even join you for lunch or walk you out at the end of a shift. little by little, you couldn't help but anticipate his arrival, the same relaxed smile always on his face much unlike the first time he'd approached you.

it's been almost a month by this point, you've had so many lost items deposited to you that after a while, throwing things away or reselling them (specific orders from your boss who was rather shocked at how many items you had in the back room) was required after a certain amount of time: not like anyone came back for them anyway. today was no different than the rest, the sounds of buzzing conversation in the distance from the more crowded areas of the mall. you pop the gum in your mouth as you paint your thumbnail a light-yellow color, scrunching your nose a bit at the smell of the nail polish. you blow softly on it, your eyes glancing up to scan your surroundings. what you see nearly makes you laugh. mike is walking over, seemingly at his normal pace before something catches his attention; whatever it is, you most definitely can't see it. when he stoops down to inspect it, he makes a face that you can only decipher as him being slightly annoyed. he catches you looking at him, an embarrassed smile on his face as he makes the rest of the walk of shame over to you when he realizes he's been caught.

"well, what is it this time? a broken watch? some cap with an unexplainable stain on it?" "what kind of person do you take me for? i'm just a faithful employee trying to do my job." mike says as he extends his arms with a playful smile, making you role your eyes as you abandon your nail polish to look up at the man in front of you. you close your eyes as you hold out your hand to him expectantly, waiting for him to drop something into your palm; after how often he came around, you made it something of a guessing game as to what mike was going to bring out. surprisingly, it's small, definitely plastic from the muted sound it makes when it lands in your hand. "it's a toy." "warm enough. you can open your eyes." you start to say something, opening your eyes and inspecting the item in your hand before you pause.

a small, plastic cat sits on a swing, it's paws holding on to the small chains attached to a brightly colored tab; it's obvious you could hang this off a shelf. your cheeks redden a bit as a sheepish smile grows on your face, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear as your other hand holds it up to inspect it further. you'd never actually stopped at the capsule toy machines yourself, starting your collection only a few weeks after starting your job when they popped up so frequently at the counter. "you like it?" you blink at mike as he smiles fondly at you, one hand propping his chin up; you swear you can see a hint of smugness in his gaze. "it's..yeah. it's cute." you say, unable to help the way you giggle a bit as you hang the toy on the edge of the counter. "good. better hope no one come's looking for it." he chuckles softly, his eyes dropping from yours for a moment as you stare in delight at the newest addition to your collection. "i wouldn't give it to them anyway. not knowing you got it for me." mike's lips part a bit in shock, a scoff of disbelief leaving him despite the smile on his face as you smile up at him knowingly. he tries to defend himself, stuttering to say something before you're called by one of your coworkers. "duty calls." you giggle as you rise from your seat, pretending not to notice the way mike is still trying to recover from being caught as you make your way over to your coworker, a smile tugging at your lips.

SECOND ONE SHOT IN A WEEK HOLY MOLY THIS IS NEW to the asker, i hope you enjoyed this, i tried to add my own little spin to things just to give it that little extra romantic flair lol BUTTT i hope that all of you are having a good rest of your day/night/afternoon and stay safe! :D

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus IV.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Explicit not SFW, alcohol consumption, Space Politics, possessive behavior, yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 15.4k.

Nexus index.

Time plucked away at the few petals still clinging to Kafka’s roses. 

The insipid end brought an inexplicable sense of relief. An irrational foreboding cast suspicion upon the bouquet; you considered it an ill-omen. You observed it religiously as one would an upside-down hourglass. Waiting, anticipating, dreading. When the last petal fell, you breathed a sigh of relief. It was late by then, so you decided to throw the remains away in the morning. 

Presently, you examine the vase. 

The once wilted stems stand tall, pridefully lifting its crowning gem on a green pedestal. Ruby-colored petals burst forth, wickedly beautiful and fragrant. 

Is this a practical joke? Some little parlor trick intended to unnerve you? 

The latest developments in holograms include olfactory stimulation. Consider this, you decide to test its authenticity. You reach out, expecting your hands to glide through an incorporeal image. 

Your fingers meet resistance. 

You try again just to be certain — the results are the same.

You’re more determined to get rid of it now than ever.

You pick up the most vain rose by its stem. It delays its demise by pricking you, earning a temporary pardon along the white veneer of your vanity. 

Blood pools into a crimson dome on your finger. You watch it, mesmerized, taken aback by memories that emerge alongside it.

The voice of a haughty girl echoes throughout your being. 

“What’s wrong? It’s just a bit of blood. We all have it inside us, don’t we?”

The LOTUS-EATER has always been your home. 

So long as it wasn’t open for business, you were free to run amuck. Of course, you refused to run amuck — how unladylike is that — but you did enjoy roaming. There were a lot of interesting things to look at. Anything was better than spending hours in front of that dumb blue screen with its stupid made-up people with stupid made-up problems. You didn’t get it. Everyone always said you’d grow up to be a super amazing Arbiter. You’d get tons of clients, make them all happy, get mountains of credits, buy the IPC, and then fire their staff.

Miss Calliope, your teacher when mother was busy, said it took most twenty years to get to where you’ve gotten in one. This reinforced an argument you’d practiced for many cycles. You thought for sure you could convince mother.

It didn’t work out that way. 

Mother said you had to keep studying before you could make a link with an organic being. You really wanted to argue, but you chose to act like an adult and be angry in silence instead. She tried to win you over and offered a ride on the nectar guides. This bribe almost swayed you from your mission. To ensure she knew how serious you were, you said you’d pass, calmly enough for her to know you weren’t actually calm. 

She went off somewhere to discuss boring things with boring people. You seized this opportunity to further refine your strategy and paced The Lounge’s hallways. Maybe if you broke the blue screen, mother would have no choice but to let you learn through experience. This idea greatly enthused you, until you remembered they could just get another blue screen. For this mission to succeed, you needed to cause the ‘collapse of supply chains.’ This was adult for ‘we can’t get the stuff we want’ from what you could surmise. The problem was, you didn’t know where these important chains were located. There’s Thelx, the good place, Ade, the weird place, Mele, the boring place, and Arc, the scary place. 

You stood and contemplated. If you had to hide something important, you’d put it in the scariest spot. Arc it is then. 

A mission of this magnitude would be unlike anything you pulled before. You’d need a… what was that term again…? Accompanied lice…? 

Accomplice! 

That’d be the crux of the whole thing. It couldn’t be any of the adults either, they’re all snitches. You required someone who would do your bidding. You closed your eyes and concentrated. There were three people around. Two on the first floor, one on the second. You sought out the latter. 

A little boy with long blonde hair and dull blue eyes sat by himself in the break room. He hadn’t noticed you yet, he just stared off into space and halfheartedly kicked his legs. The workers sometimes brought their kids along and stuffed them in here, where there were snacks and games. He didn’t seem interested in either. 

What resolve, you thought. What fortitude! 

You walked in front of him, pointed, and loudly demanded, “What’s your name?” 

“M-Miss Phaeales?” He squeaked. 

“No, that’s my name,” you sighed. Maybe your intuition was off. “What’s your name?” 

He hung his head and frowned.

“Oh, um… I’m Vincent.” 

You squinted. “Huh? That can’t be right. Vincent’s the bartender. You can’t do that.” 

“He’s my dad. We have the same name.” 

You felt a strange feeling from tinier Vincent; the kind of strange feeling that made your stomach and head hurt. Mother said you’d be able to block it out as you grew up. You hoped you’d grow up soon.

“Well, that’s dumb. I don’t like that name,” you decided. He remained silent. “Pick a new one.” 

“I don’t think I can…?” 

“You can because I said you can. Pick a new one, or I’ll pick one for you.” 

He stared at you like you had three heads. You did the scary thing mother does when angry — you counted down from three to one in a mean voice. Not-tinier-Vincent just sat there and looked confused. You scrunched your face up when your mean counting finished. You didn’t get it, that always worked on you. He must be immune to pressure… a quality your mission required. 

Maybe he had his merits after all.

“Alright, I’ll pick one. From now on, you’re… hm… Lear.” 

You placed your hands on your hips and nodded. This is a great name, you thought. It rhymes with so many things. 

Lear tilted his head. “Uh… alright?”  

“Great. Onto the next business order — how old are you?” 

He put up five fingers. 

What luck you have!

You grinned. “I’m seven, so according to the law, you have to listen to me.” 

“The law?” He questioned. 

“Yeah, the law. It’s what you have to do or you get in trouble.” 

Lear processed this new information and nodded. “Okay. I don’t wanna get in trouble.” 

“From now on, you’ll be my ac—” 

You covered your mouth with your hands. Wait a moment, you can’t tell him he’s an accomplice!  He might not help you then. That was a close one. You considered alternative titles, but none of them sounded as cool as accomplice. What a shame, but it can’t be helped. Missions required sacrifice. 

“From now on, Lear, you’ll be my best friend.” 

…

A few cycles later, you convened on the balcony outside of mother’s office. 

You liked the balcony. No one made you use the blue screen there. Sometimes, when you weren’t monitored, you’d grab a chair, pull it to the railing, hop up, and stare. This is Eris, you’d think. A cold planet far away from the stars. Stars are big fireballs that make everything nice and warm. I don’t think I’ll ever get to see one. It’d be cool if I could. 

You displayed a vital object for the mission.

“Lear, do you know what this is?” 

Lear stood still with his hands in his pockets. “A circle?” 

“No. Well, okay, yeah, it’s a circle, but this is called a hair tie. You use it to tie your hair.” 

“That’s cool.” 

You held it out to him. “For this mission, full visibility is required. I’d cut your hair, but mother hid the scissors from me.” 

His tiny hand grabbed it. Lear regarded your gift blankly and glanced back at you, his eyebrows furrowed. Did he not know what to do with it? 

You sighed because that’s what mother did in these situations. You started to get why. You took the gift back, tied your hair up, then returned it. He managed to do it on the fourth try. Relieved that the trial was over, you clapped and smiled. Your effort has been rewarded.

“Good job, Lear.” 

Lear’s head rose at that. “What?” 

“I said good job. When someone gets something right, that’s what you say.” 

“... It is?” He murmured. You nodded. You didn’t think you needed to teach him the basics, but an accomplice must be capable. Miss Calliope said that extra effort was always worth it. She changed her mind after you grabbed a stool to mix the adult drinks. You’d like to think she still meant it. 

“Since that’s finished, we can get to the main event.” 

You pulled out a paperclip from a pocket inside your dress. The object was subjected to your immense strength, manipulated, and reforged. It went from a boring shape to a useful shape. You took a deep breath, brought the paperclip’s edge to your pointer finger, then stabbed down. Lear released a choked sound when blood surfaced. 

You cleaned the paperclip’s edge with your dress’ hem and handed it to him. This would go on to determine the rest of your life, you decided. It needed to be done well. 

“I read that doing this makes your promises stronger. Since we’re gonna make an important promise, it has to be extra strong,” you explained. The color drained from Lear’s face. “What’s wrong? It’s just a bit of blood. We all have it inside us, right?” 

Lear refused to take the paperclip. “A promise? Miss Phaeales, I don’t know if I can.” 

“You don’t have to press hard. It barely stings, anyway.” 

“B-But...” 

You pursed your lips. “Lear, we have to, or the promise will be weak.” 

Lear shook his head and took a step back. There were lots of weird feelings that came from him. They confused you, you couldn’t think of a word to describe them. It didn’t hurt, but it felt heavy on your chest. What did you do wrong? Were paper clips that scary? No, it had to be something else. Mother said you can’t focus on another person too hard because it’s unfair. If they don’t tell you it themselves, you shouldn’t know it. 

“Lear…?” 

He stood on his tiptoes and reached for the number pad. You revealed the top-secret passcode to him, since the balcony was to be your top-secret hideout. Every top-secret hideout had to have a top-secret password. The detective books you read said so. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Lear apologized. His voice sounded tiny. “I’m really sorry.” 

You didn’t know what to say to stop him or if you should try. 

Was this what people meant when they called you pushy? You wanted to complete the mission, but you also didn’t want Lear to be sad. 

The door opened and quietly closed. 

With that, the first friend you ever made was gone. 

…

The next time you were allowed on the balcony, you were curled up in a ball. 

You hugged your knees to your chest and sniffled. Mom was mad at you. Miss Calliope was mad at you. Mister Caicias had scolded you. The other Arbiters were less nice too. You don’t think they ever liked you, but at least they pretended they did. It’s okay to hate you for now so they stopped pretending. 

You could hear their thoughts. You didn’t want to, but you could anyway. 

What a spoiled child.

If anyone else had done what she did, they’d never be allowed in this line of work.

I hope the Exalted Arbiter lives a long life, if this is to be her successor. 

Your throat was sore, your eyes burned, and your chest hurt. You didn’t know you were spoiled. You never thought you were better than anyone. You hadn’t realized your attitude was awful. You just wanted to be confident like mom. That way, no one would be worried about the future. Everyone on Eris relied on mom. Everyone on Eris will have to rely on you eventually.

You looked at the black sky, the only sky you’d ever known. It always felt sad. The gray clouds were like little discolored tears. 

You wondered if Noct ever felt bad that they made a planet where everyone was unhappy. 

Someone’s coming, you realized. Is it moma? 

It isn’t. 

It’s the little boy with blue eyes and long, blonde hair. This time, it’s pulled back into a ponytail. You hadn’t changed the top-secret password, he must’ve used it to gain entry. 

You hurriedly rubbed your tears away, and he looked elsewhere until you gave up on your task. Afterward, he sat down beside you. He hugged his knees to his chest as well. 

“Are you okay?” He murmured. 

You nodded and sunk your head into your knees. 

“... Those kids are mean, anyway,” he reassured. “I dunno what they said, but it’s not true.” 

“It is too. The adults think it but they don’t say it,” you whispered. 

You know it’s true. Your mission to Arc almost caused what Miss Calliope called ‘a scandal.’ 

You snuck out of the LOTUS-EATER by yourself.

It wasn’t as difficult as you expected. You just borrowed a staff member’s lanyard, pressed it against the door, and it opened. You stuck to the shadows and navigated your way south. You could tell when an adult was close if you heard their thoughts. The thoughts were rarely happy. You pushed on until you encountered an alley, where some older kids were gathered. 

You froze; you hadn’t accounted for kids. Their thoughts weren’t as loud and terrible. You didn’t hear them.

This bunch, though… they had a kid’s build and the expression of an adult. You counted four in total. One was tall, another was scrawny, the tiniest covered in dirt, and the last kid wore a tattered shirt that reached their knees. 

The tall kid spat on the ground. 

“This is our spot,” he said. “Get lost.”  

You fidgeted. 

“Hello, um… could I just pass over that fence? I’ll be quick,” you reasoned. 

“Are you deaf or something? I said, get lost.” 

The scrawniest kid squinted at you. “Hey, wait a sec, J. I feel like I’ve seen her before.” 

“Really? When?” The tiny one squeaked.

“Y’know, during those big events for when Arc folk move over.” 

“Huh, now that you mention it…” the tall boy trailed off, “You’re [First] Phaeales, right?” 

He said your name like it was a disease. It made your heart hurt. 

“Can you read my mind? What am I thinkin’ about, huh?” The scrawny kid called out. 

“Hey, be careful. I heard those things can make your head explode with a single look,” the kid in a long shirt whispered. 

The tall boy guffawed and stepped forward. “Really? Is that true?” 

You took a step back. 

“What? You gonna run away? Can’t stand to see people like us, huh?” He remarked. “Must be nice, getting everything you ever need handed to you. Yeah. Real fuckin’ nice.” 

“I don’t—” your voice gave out. You ignored how they snickered and pressed on to finish your important sentence. “I don’t think that about you! When I grow up, I wanna help—” 

The tall boy stormed over and lifted you by your dress’ collar. “Help? Help? You can’t do shit. You people never do anything! You promise and promise and never come through!” 

You didn’t understand, there was too much to process. Anger and sadness mixed to become a storm that you were caught in the middle of. You closed your eyes and hoped the pain would go away. Maybe you prayed to Noct, maybe you cried out for your mom, you don’t really remember. 

When you reopened your eyes you saw a music box. It was simple, small, and made of wood. There was nothing else around it. No ceiling or sky, floor or ground. You couldn’t speak, so you couldn’t scream. Nothing felt normal. This wasn’t Eris. Did you float into space? Can anyone save you? Would anyone find you?

The music box’s handle creaked; the lid lifted like a yawning mouth. No song was played. Voices came out instead, though they sounded far away. There was nothing else to do but listen. 

“At this rate, she’s only going to get worse…” 

“You don’t know that. I have a few more items I can pawn off, and then…” 

“... Temperature of 102 degrees…” 

“How much longer will this embargo last? Why can’t they just give in to the IPC’s fucking demands already? We all know they’re going to, but we have to sit and suffer while they play politics!” 

“Honey, keep your voice down, the children are trying to sleep…” 

“... Temperature of 104 degrees…” 

“My wedding ring! There’s still my wedding ring! We have— we have to go fast, the pharmacy closes at 3400!” 

“Jason, your mom and I need to run a very important errand. I need you to keep an eye on Iris, okay? Can you do that for me? I know it’s scary, but it’ll all be okay, I promise. We’ll be quick.” 

“Hey… big bro?” 

“You shouldn’t get up! Here, lay back down. There you go, take it easy. Mom and dad will be back soon. They’ll get what you need, and… and… it’ll be okay. They promised.”  

“I’m sorry… for making everyone sad.” 

“No, no, that isn’t true! When you get better, we’ll be the happiest family there is. We’ll— we’ll take a trip to the entertainment district, get tons of yummy food. I’ve been saving up my allowance so I can spoil you. You can have cookies, cakes,  whatever you want, it’s yours.” 

“... Pudding too?” 

“Of course, pudding too. You’ll have so much, you’ll need an entire lifetime to eat it. A long, long lifetime. So… just wait a bit longer. They should be back any minute now.” 

“You want to hear the music box mom gave you? That’s all the way in the— no no no, don’t look at me like that, I’ll go get it. See? Keep an eye on the door, lift your head just a little bit. I’ll be quick.” 

“Hey, look what I found. Works like a charm too. Hm? Did you fall asleep? That was fast. It normally… it takes… normally takes… l-longer…?” 

The music box slammed shut. 

The tall boy — Jason — released his grip on you and staggered back. His friends ran to his aid. You squeezed your head in your hands, fell to your knees, and tried to disappear. It hurt, it hurt, oh, it hurt, a pain you’d never experienced before. It felt like your chest was stabbed over and over again with something sharper than a paperclip. This pain, his pain, it was too much. 

A few guards that’d been dispatched to search for you overheard the commotion. They ran over, worried that you were injured. Nothing was wrong with you physically. The pain came from within. You thrashed and screamed when they picked you up. You wanted to be left alone, you wanted it to go away. 

You looked at the tall boy one more time before they pulled you away.

Tears fell from his eyes and they couldn’t stop. 

You don’t think those kids were mean. They were just really sad.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” the little boy said. His voice wavered. “I was scared.” 

You felt numb. “Of me?” 

His eyes widened and he waved his hands as if he’d caught on fire. “N-No, well, kinda, but not like that. You’re nice. You don’t tell me to smile or to stop looking sad.” 

Your lower lip trembled. “But I made you tie your hair up.” 

“I see better now.” 

“And— and I said your name was dumb.” 

“... I don’t like it,” he said. The strange feeling reappeared. “That name. It is dumb. You know that I guess, ‘cause of the mind stuff.” 

“Isn’t that scary?” 

“Maybe if you did mean things with it, but… that name made me sad. So you picked a new one. Lear is cool. It rhymes with stuff.” 

You lifted your head. The little boy wasn’t lying, you could tell. 

“Why’d you leave then?” 

His little hands balled into fists by his side.

“I was scared. I was asked to make a promise before, and I lied. It was a promise I didn’t like,” he explained. 

Then, he lifted his finger. A droplet of blood dripped from it. “I shoulda said something. I’ll try, I’ll really try, so please don’t be sad. It makes me sad. I want… I want to be best friends!” 

A lump formed in your throat. Tears stung your eyes, the strength of his words pierced through your sadness like an arrow. A friend. You never had a friend before. You didn’t think you’d ever get to have one. Mom said it’d be difficult, that if you wanted it, you’d need to try harder than you’d ever tried before. 

You launched at Lear, your arms outstretched, and wailed loudly. He caught you awkwardly with a gasp. You pressed your forehead to his shoulder and hugged him tight. 

“I don’t want you as an accomplice anymore! You’re my best friend! I really mean it this time!” You exclaimed in between sobs. 

“Eh? Accom-police?” Lear struggled to repeat the new word. Then, for the first time since you met him, he laughed. “I don’t really get you, Miss Phaeales, but… I wanna.” 

That kid, Jason… is he okay? Did he ever go back home to his parents? You wonder. I used to think I could prove him wrong, that I just needed to grow up faster so I could fix everything. And yet, these past two years have been some of the worst economically. 

You grab the rose by its petals and return it to the vase. 

The crystal lotus shines beside it, its multiple surfaces flickering between brilliant hues. This gift, while beautiful, never particularly stuck out to you before. It wasn’t until Blade expressed an interest that it stood out more.

You sit in front of your vanity.

Mom… was I a good daughter? 

You brush foundation along your face. 

I always thought you never understood me, but… 

Mascara darkens and thickens your eyelashes. 

… I never tried to understand you. 

You slam the makeup drawer shut. 

It has officially been three months since the IPC instituted its travel ban on Eris with seemingly no end in sight. 

Unemployment rates have crept up from 5.3% to a staggering 15%. We reached out to a financial advisor for Metis Mining from Mele, a company that has laid off one-third of its workforce. 

“It’s an awful situation,” he said. “Essentially, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. I’ve been in this field for some 150 years — never have I seen anything like this. Thelx is our heart. If it stops pumping, we stop getting the blood we need to live. We need tourism. We need our heart to beat again.” 

An advisor for Chrysus, however, is singing a different, more upbeat tune. 

“We’re feeling optimistic. The negotiations have been going well. None of us want this to last longer than it has to. We’ve cooperated fully with the IPC’s requests, working endlessly to provide the necessary documentation for them to drop this unfounded charge. We ask that the people of Eris stand together. I will not be accepting questions at this time. Thank you.” 

“What is Chrysus doing,” you groan. ��The optics on this are terrible. ‘We ask that the people of Eris stand together,’ sounds like a bumper sticker for a spaceship.” 

The comment section on the article expresses a similar sentiment. The most upvoted post is a picture of Eris on fire with bottom text that reads, ‘Don’t worry, just keep standing.’ The second is a screenshot of the advisor’s comment with the caption ‘me when i lie.’ To make matters worse, the user’s profile picture is the lead singer for Mushroom Mania but with a flower crown photoshopped onto his head. 

You squint at the tiny text beneath it. 

Your friend banona69 liked this post.

“Blade, can you cut my phone in half?” 

He throws you a disinterested glance. 

“Riveting conversation, as usual,” you lean heavily on sarcasm to reel him in.

“You’re working. I won’t interrupt,” he drawls. 

Or maybe it didn’t, who knows, he’s as easy to read as an esoteric tome in a lost language. It is true that you’re working. Keeping up with clients, overseeing reimbursements for canceled appointments, apologizing for circumstances you have no control over; the usual. Your latest torment involved your bank’s servers going down when your employees’ paychecks were due. They’re testing out a new customer service android, but yours had a bug that caused it to repeat everything you said. 

That predicament came to an end and five more popped up in its place. 

You stretch your arms above your head. “If I handed you over to the IPC, do you think they’d lift the travel ban?” 

“Find out for yourself.” 

“Huh?” You swipe your monitors away so you can gauge him better. “What do you mean by that?” 

Blade kicks himself off the wall and uncrosses his arms. “If you can subdue me, you can turn me in.” 

That’s one of the biggest ‘ifs’ to ever if. You narrow your eyes, like that’ll help your ability to discern his intentions. He’s standing there, intimidating as ever, his countenance betraying nothing. You decide he has to be joking. It’d be a major inconvenience for Kafka and her cronies to break him out of IPC holding. You know precious little about Blade, but you do know he takes his job seriously. 

Regardless, this cycle has raised your blood pressure to unprecedented levels, so you play along. A little fun never hurts. 

“Didn’t Nona tell you about my mind-liquifying technique?” 

“Screeched it, more like,” Blade dryly recalls. “It’s a bluff.” 

You swivel around on your chair and get up. He remains perfectly still as you languidly approach, his burning eyes never leaving yours. An electrifying sensation courses through your body the closer you get. It’s unfair how beautiful he is. His dark hair that shifts into a crimson shade, broad shoulders, narrow waist, his surprisingly soft lips that are almost always drawn in a straight line; the wanted posters don’t do him justice. 

You have to crane your head to look up at him, the man’s so ridiculously tall. You’ve never liked it when people look down on you — this must be the lone exception. 

“And if it isn’t?” You challenge. 

“You would never,” Blade insists. It isn’t your eyes he’s focusing on anymore, it’s your lips. “You’re too…” 

On the occasions you can get Blade talking, he’s never at a loss for words. His cadence has a quiet confidence. If he’s in the mood, he’ll have a rebuttal for every possible sentence you could concoct. It’s immediate too, as swift as his bladework. It’s unusual for him to trail off for this long. 

“Too…?” You encourage, tilting your head. 

“Forget it.” 

You don’t have the luxury of pressing the issue. He quite literally sweeps you off your feet, taking long strides to your office’s couch like he owns the place.

“You missed your chance,” Blade lays you down on the cushions and crawls over you. “Unless you’d still like to try.” 

You glare at him halfheartedly and prop yourself up on your elbows. This guy must have a thing for manhandling you, because every chance he gets, he goes for it. You splay your hand against his chest and lightly push. He gets the message and moves back, allowing you the space necessary to lift up your blouse. He’s all over you immediately after, kneading your chest and trailing hot kisses down your neck. He stops at the spots with bite marks or bruises, giving them extra attention so they don’t fade. 

“Maybe I could, who knows? Perhaps I’ve extended you mercy,” you breathe out. 

Blade pins your wrists above your head with one hand, his amusement evident. “You’d be the first.”

He leers at your cleavage like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His lips are back on your skin, starting at your collarbones and then moving down. He lavishes your chest in lovebites, his teeth practically married to your skin. Your low-cut shirts will be collecting dust in your closet at this rate, he’s seen to that. He kisses down your navel and stops shy of your skirt’s waistband. 

“Is this for me?” He plays with your skirt’s short hem, raising it to reveal your thighs. 

You did choose this risque skirt to see how he’d react, but he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing this. 

“You’re not the only person I ever see,” is your cheeky reply. 

He doesn’t look impressed. 

“I’m the only one who can fuck you, though,” he says, as plain as someone describing the weather. 

You frown and twist your head to the side. He picked up on that, huh? You don’t know if it’s definitive, but you haven’t conducted tests to find out. It is exhilarating to lose yourself in carnality without fearing the repercussions. Still, you don’t want him to believe that gives him an exclusive claim to you. You’ll both enjoy yourselves, he’ll get recalled from this job, and that’ll be the end of it. He’ll be nothing but a story you drunkenly recall to Nona. Nothing more, nothing less.

Possessive men are a turnoff. If they wanted to own the thing they stick their dick in, they could buy a sex android. You’re not a sex android. You don’t run out of battery power in six hours or incur hilarious yet painful-sounding reasons for lawsuits. 

“Pouting again?” Blade taunts.

Long, gloved fingers lightly glide against your inner thigh. 

“I don’t pout,” you sigh as his hand dips past your waistband. “I brood.” 

“Mhm.” 

His fingers are quick to find your clit. He rubs the sensitive nub in slow motions, applying minimum pressure. Your breath hitches and you look up at him through lidded eyes. His towering form cages you in. This couch is one of the few surfaces he hasn’t taken you on yet. Your bed, your office chair, your desk, hell, even the wall; he’s fucked you on almost every object with the geometry to permit it. 

Your head tilts back as he steadily drags his fingers down the length of your pussy. His ring and middle finger barely slip in before he pulls them out, returning to their previous task of gathering your slick. There’s enough for each swipe to create audible sounds, despite the relaxed rhythm he’s set. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by him. No, he grins at you, his eyes practically shining. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, covering your face with your forearm. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t have to, it’s written all over your— ah!” 

His fingers plunge into you without the slightest resistance, all the way up to his knuckles. You gasp at the abrupt intrusion. Normally, he takes surprising care when pushing anything inside you — whether it be his cock, tongue, or fingers — gauging how your face contorts to ensure you aren’t in pain. He couldn’t have been touching you for more than a minute and yet your body produced enough lubrication to easily suck him in. 

“My what?” He probes, lowering his face close enough for your noses to touch. His soft black locks tickle your cheeks. 

Blade curls his fingers as if beckoning you toward him, which is exactly what he gets; your back arches and you curl your arms around his neck for purchase. He’s noted this clinging tendency of yours and has taken great pleasure in pointing it out. You mewl as he carries on his ministrations, loving the contrast of the cold leather against your warm insides. He finger fucks you nice and slow. His lips find yours, kissing you in a way that can only be described as tender. You reciprocate, though the lustful haze permeating your mind desires something rougher. This is the sweet kiss of a lover, not a… whatever the two of you are. 

Blade pulls back an inch when you run your tongue over the seam of his lips. 

“Are you ever satisfied?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you huff. “Do you have any idea how much shipping Plan B to this planet costs?” 

He exhales sharply in amusement. “You like when I finish inside.” 

Your walls clamp down on him before you can protest this claim. 

“Would you look at that,” Blade hums, his voice dropping in volume as if he were sharing a secret. “I can’t even move my fingers, that made you squeeze them so tight.” 

You’d like to think he was exaggerating, but it does take a few seconds for him to comfortably slide his fingers in and out again. 

“You’re delusional. That’s… an involuntary muscle contraction.” 

He quirks an eyebrow. 

His fingers abandon their prior creed. He embraces a new tenet — one that seeks to make your lips part in pure pleasure. You writhe beneath him at the unrelenting onslaught. He angles his palm so that it rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers. You’re quick to sync up with his sharp movements. Every time his fingers glide back in, your hips rise to meet him halfway. Soft gasps and moans fill the air as your peak grows closer. 

Your walls start to tighten, promising that sweet ecstasy will soon be yours. 

The second time it squeezes down, his merciless pace relaxes. He doesn’t stop entirely, he just slows down enough that you aren’t getting the stimulation necessary to come undone. You bite down on your lower lip. He hasn’t deprived you of an orgasm since this feverish passion began; he’s been more interested in seeing how many times he can fuck you to completion. He didn’t even subject you to this cruelty when you made a jab at his age that set him out to prove he doesn’t ‘have the refractory period of an old man.’ 

You don’t bother trying to move your hips for more friction. One night, during the afterglow of sex, you inquired after his sword. Among other things, he nonchalantly revealed its weight of three thousand pounds. You called his bluff. He was in an agreeable enough mood to summon it, allowing you to test the claim’s validity yourself. 

Sure enough, you couldn’t even drag it an inch across the ground… 

His breath is hot on your ear as he whispers, “Admit it.��� 

“Admit what?” 

“That you love it,” he commands, his fingers massaging your walls. “Don’t be shy.”

“I’m anything but shy.”

“Hm. Dishonesty doesn’t suit you.” 

You groan in exasperation when his fingers come to a complete halt. Is he really going to make you admit something so embarrassing…? Your face burns as hot as those faraway stars. You examine his expression, searching for some sign that he isn’t being serious. It’s a poor tactic. His countenance is stern, except for the blush on his cheeks from how aroused he is. 

“I…” you inhale shakily, your lower lip trembling, “I like… when…”

“Love,” he corrects. 

You turn your head to the side and squeeze your eyes shut. “I love when you… cum inside me.” 

His clothed cock twitches against your leg. 

“I know.”

Blade returns to the heavenly speed that has your mind all but floating away. His palm rubs down hard on your clit, his fingers searching out for that spot you love so much. Inhibitions gone, his name is the only word your tongue can form. Everything else that isn’t Blade has been erased from your lexicon. He makes you feel so good, it’s maddening. He’s addicted to your body and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

To be wanted, to be desired… what bliss this brings. 

Your muscles tighten and release as waves of pleasure devour you. 

Your insides spasm around him, demanding that he doesn’t let up until you’re satiated. He’s happy to oblige. Once your orgasm-induced daze lessons, you yank him down to your lips into an open-mouthed kiss that has you swapping saliva. He swallows a whimper from you while pulling his fingers out, leaving the area he’s become so intimately acquainted with. The arm that he was using to hold himself above you snakes behind your back. You’re made to sit on his lap as he shifts upright, your skirt flaring out. 

As always, it’s you who breaks from the heated kiss first. 

Blade raises his gloved hand for you to see. You gape at how the onyx-colored leather has lightened, thoroughly coated in you. He parts his middle and ring, allowing dewy threads of your essence to form. Those crimson eyes go from admiring his handiwork to reveling in your embarrassed expression. As if you weren’t flustered enough, he slips his fingers into his mouth. His length hardens and he groans quietly while sucking off your slick.

While savoring your taste, he starts the familiar process of pulling your drenched panties down. You set to work on undoing his belt. He then hits an area that’s difficult to pull them over. He gives it one more try before frustration surges from him, hinting at his solution.

“Stop ripping my undergarments,” you chastise, lifting your leg to make it easier for him. “I’ll have to go shopping at this rate.” 

Blade exercises a modicum of decorum and flings the scant fabric aside instead of eviscerating it. 

“Quit wearing them.”

“That dream of yours might come true if I have none left. If that happens, I’m stealing your credit card.”  

“It’s yours.” 

You roll your eyes, focusing on freeing his cock. His length is flushed red and painfully hard. You wrap your hands around the base. Pre-cum leaks from his head in steady streams that flow down, coating him enough that it’s easy to glide your hand up. He hisses out through gritted teeth. Once your hand reaches the top, you rub his smooth tip with the pad of your thumb. The way he leers at you is borderline animalistic. You keep at your task, pumping him up and down. 

“Does this count as me subduing you?” You muse, your voice taking a sickeningly sweet cadence, “Should I get handcuffs ready?” 

“Watch it, girl.” 

You would’ve if he hadn’t teased you so much earlier. But he did, and you must have some compensation. You sink onto the ground. Blade shoots you an inquisitive look, to which you flutter your eyelashes and smile. The realization of your intentions hits him when your lips place an amorous kiss on his leaking tip. The veins running along the length of his cock pulsate from the sight. Such a chaste way of going about a lustful act must do something for him. 

“You…” He growls out, clenching his hands into tight fists, “God.” 

You suck him gently, swirling your tongue along his slit. Meanwhile, your hand pumps him faster. He thrusts his pelvis forward to force more of his cock into your mouth. He isn’t immediately gratified — no, you take him in at your leisure. His gloved hand entangles itself in your hair and helps guide your head up and down. The wet sound of you sucking him off grows louder from the copious amount of saliva slathered along his cock. You reach for his balls, gently cupping and massaging them. Blade pants above you and throws his head back. 

The telltale twitching of his cock starts. 

You pull yourself off him. He glares down at you, silently fuming. 

You suppress a laugh and climb onto his lap. His hand goes to your shoulder, a sign he intends to push your body down so he can fuck you. Rather than moving aside and complying, you undo your bra’s clasp. His enchantment with your bare tits distracts him enough for your scheme to carry on undetected. You align your entrance with the head of his cock and start sinking down, taking the initiative yourself. 

Blade’s large hands fly to either side of your hips from instinct. Inch after inch slides in and stretches you. He maintains unflinching eye contact, the intensity behind his gaze is almost more embarrassing than the act of sex itself. Maybe he’s as pent-up as you are? Whatever the case, the tension in the air begs to be diffused. 

“Have I earned your forgiveness?” You ask. 

“You’re getting there.”

Your lips part in a silent moan when you fully envelop him. Blade grunts, pulling you down so he can go as deep inside you as possible. His thickness caresses your walls and sets your nerves ablaze. You gyrate your hips in one last little act of revenge. He squeezes your flesh, sending the unspoken warning that you’re truly testing his patience. Thinking it best not to test your luck any further, you rise off him and sink back down. 

The legs in your muscles are sore from overexertion but the burden barely falls to you. Blade lifts you off his cock then back down again — you could go completely limp and it wouldn’t make a difference. He must’ve wanted to know you were ready before ruthlessly maneuvering your body for his pleasure.

What a gentleman.

This position has him consistently rubbing against a spot inside you that’s mind-numbing. He fills and stretches you like your body was molded with him in mind. Your gratification isn’t his goal at the moment he’s lost in the pursuit of what you snatched away. He’s greedy because he can be; he’s greedy because you welcome it. You’ve had so much to give and no one to receive it. You aren’t sure how much he’ll take. You’ve decided it’s better to be empty than bursting at the seams with ardor no one can swallow, lest their throat get scorched. 

Maybe his premonition is right. Maybe no one will be able to fuck you but him. 

So you’ll enjoy it while you can. 

The rosy hue on his cheeks, his countenance reflecting the pleasure he derives from your body, the inhuman grip that mars your skin so beautifully; you take everything in. You want it all. You’ll gladly take from him too. You might not like possessive men, but passionate men are a different story. It’s boring if they aren’t a little frenzied. 

“Not… going to last long,” he pants out, his voice strained. 

Your nipples brush against the fabric of his shirt as you lean in to embrace him, your lips right by his ear. 

“Cum in me then,” you whisper, nibbling his earlobe. “Cause I think we both know you love it even more than I do.” 

Blade groans out a series of expletives. Some you recognize, some you don’t.

His cock throbs as he empties himself inside you. He thrusts upward in sharp movements, his pelvis hitting yours hard enough to sting. He’s drunk on the high you’ve brought him. Spurts of his cum slide out from your coated walls, an egregious act he remedies by fucking it back into you. By the time he finally stills, you’re both panting, sweat glistening along your bodies. You rest your head on his shoulder to regain yourself. His bandaged hand runs up and down your back, almost soothingly. 

In a matter of seconds, his flaccid cock steadily hardens, still snug inside you. 

“Who… who’s never satisfied again?” You breathlessly murmur. 

His hand finds your clit and lightly brushes over it. You whimper, your walls tightening enough to give you both a jolt of pleasure. The pitch you hit is high enough to stupefy you from mortification. You slap your hand over your mouth, hoping it’ll dissuade any further involuntary infractions. He gingerly grabs your hand and pulls it away. 

“Still you,” he says, grazing his lips along the pulse point of your inner wrist. 

You don’t get the chance to bite back.

A robotic voice slices through the lustful atmosphere like a scythe. 

“Miss Phaeales, incoming call, Miss Phaeales, incoming call,” it intones. 

You stifle a groan. “Alright alright, I get that, who is it from?” 

“Contact name: Lear.” 

Your eyes widen. Though your limbs feel like jelly, you lift yourself off Blade, who doesn’t give much assistance. You mouth the word ‘sorry’ to him, snatch your bra off the floor, and start wobbling over to your desk. After some quick rummaging, you find the device you need. 

“Put him through to my in-ears,” you order the virtual assistant. 

“[First]? Hello?” 

Relief surges through you upon hearing the sound of his voice. 

“Lear, it’s been so long since we talked, I started to think you were a figment of my imagination,” you say whilst securing your bra back into place. 

“I know, I’m— I’m sorry,” he sounds terribly flustered. You can picture his expression without trying. “It’s just, you’re busy, and then that happened and I—” 

“Slow down, I’m only teasing. It’s alright. I get it.” 

“Eh… you’re as bad as Nona,” he grumbles. “You just hide it better.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s out of my system.”

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll leave it at that,” he’s quiet for a moment, before adding, “You sound like you’re in high spirits, [First]. You don’t know what a relief that is.” 

You twirl a pen on your fingers. “I’ve dabbled with the alternative and found it lacking. It does help that some pesky issues have finally been resolved… which reminds me. Your paycheck came through without any issues, correct?” 

There’s indistinct murmuring from two voices. Lear’s tone sounds chastising, while the other comes off as petulant. 

“Hi Nona,” you greet, to which there’s a faint yet audible ‘Fuck!’ along with rapid footsteps retreating. “How fortunate is it that our paths have crossed like this? I noticed something very interesting. You can’t respond to my texts relating to your studies, but you can like a social media post from a few hours ago?” 

Now, rapid footsteps approach. 

“I’m taking a break from texting for my mental health,” Nona’s voice reasons. 

“... Don’t people normally take a break from social media for that reason?” 

“Check the DSM-106. It’s actually a thing.” 

“Be that as it may, you’re making good progress. Your scores are consistent enough that you can take a few clients again when we reopen. You need to keep practicing so it stays that way.” 

There’s a slight commotion. When it settles, Lear’s the one speaking again. “Sorry, she wanted me to say there’s still an issue with the paycheck coming through.” 

In the background, you hear her cry out, “Teacher’s pet!”

“Allow me to once again request that you place aside your bias. Nona, whose birth name is unknown, was born and raised in Arc’s most hostile faction. At the self-reported age of 74, she submitted a request for Thelx citizenship. Your mother, in her benevolence, granted the request due to seeing Nona’s potential as a future Arbiter. Do you deny any of this?” 

You quietly take a deep breath. 

“... How does Nona seem to you, Lear?” 

What should be such a natural question feels like speaking with glue coating your tongue.

“The same as usual. And, no matter what she says, she is studying the notes you sent. She just hates the training program. You were the same way, weren’t you?” 

“I was, yes,” A heavy smile finds its way onto your face. “Has anyone been giving her trouble?” 

The silence on the other line lasts longer than you’d prefer. 

“It hasn’t… been directly at her, per se. There’s just a general atmosphere of unease. Thelx has the highest percentage of citizens integrated from Arc, so things aren’t so bad here. Occasionally, there’ll be a confused kid pointing and asking why her eyes are different, but that’s nothing new.” 

The tension in your shoulders relaxes. “Alright, that’s reassuring. Please keep an eye out for her in my stead, okay?” 

You refuse to believe Chrysus. Everything with him is a move, some preplanned tactic to achieve a goal that advances his interests. You’ve lived life with Nona; he’s read a few paragraphs about her from a .txt file. There isn’t time to be at war with yourself. If he felt comfortable enough to make an accusation like that, there’s no chance it’ll end there. You’ll need countermeasures set in place. 

Countermeasures, countermeasures… there’s Caicias. He loathes ‘secret alliances’ and ‘bloated bureaucracy,’ preferring to keep everything as simple as possible. Depending on your approach, you might be able to sway the former principal. He’s always treated you as an uncle would their niece. While it feels infantilizing now, this soft spot could be an advantage if played correctly. 

An in-person meeting would be your best chance.

“Of course,” Lear says, breaking you from your thoughts. Then he’s quiet again. “[First]?” 

“Mhm?” 

“...” 

You hear him sigh. 

“It’s nothing. I should let you get back to your work.” 

“Hold on, you can’t ‘it’s nothing,’ me!” 

A shrill alarm chirps and pierces your unsuspecting ears. 

“Oh, shit, Nona set the fire alarm off while cooking again,” Lear sounds more exasperated than worried. “Let’s finish this another time, [First]. I… I promise that I will.” 

“Wha— again? How often does this happen?” You demand. “Hello? Hello? Ugh.” 

Irate, you tug your in-ears out and toss them on your desk. What could Lear possibly have wanted to discuss? The tone he used made your heart drop. It sounded so firm, so resolute. He’s always been on the more soft-spoken side unless provoked. He did promise that he’d pick it up ‘another time,’ an unintended callous sentencing. Your mind is going to play fill-in-the-blank with the most dreadful words possible until this burden is lifted. 

You’re about to return to your office chair when you remember your present condition. 

Tousled hair, a hastily put-on bra, a wrinkled skirt, and one of the most sought-after fugitives in the universe’s cum dripping out of you. 

Ah. And said fugitive is still behind you. 

You spin on your heels. “So, um—” 

Blade isn’t anything like when you last saw him. He’s redressed, and composed, his expression a mix between indifference and boredom. He’s returned to his favorite position too. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with one knee slightly bent. Why he favors this stance so much, you’ll never know. You’ve offered him a seat more times than you can count. He comes across as less intimidating when he isn’t at his full height. 

He stares at you.

You stare at him. 

“I’ll… be getting back to work, I guess?” 

He doesn’t so much as nod and he says you’re the pouty one?! 

You gather your clothes off the floor for what feels like the umpteenth time, your cheeks burning. It isn’t that you feel ashamed, rather, you think he could at least help instead of standing there like his portrait is getting painted. He’s not trying to hide that he’s watching you. His eyes have always had a physical presence, they weigh on you heavily. 

You briefly consider making a snarky comment, but your maturity wins out. You’re above such petty drivel. You finish collecting your garments. Next, you pull up the bra strap that decided to go awol, straighten your skirt, and fuss over your hair. Are you doing this so he knows you’re not embarrassed and in a rush to scamper off like a wounded animal? Maybe. Who could blame you?

You make for your bedroom door, head held high.

Blade speaks your name in that low, dark voice of his, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your body erupts in uncontrollable shivers. 

You stiffly turn around like a rusted cog. 

“Missed a spot,” is all he says. 

You blink. “Huh?” 

Blade nods to the lower half of your body. 

Sure enough, there’s a dribble of his cum caked against your inner left thigh. 

…

You hurl your belongings at him, which he catches without so much as batting an eyelash. 

Your very short-lived satisfaction dissipates when you recall how much you adore that blouse. The same blouse you just chucked at the immortal sword-wielding Stellaron Hunter who can kill people faster than the afterlife can claim them. He’s still holding it. You get the feeling he will continue to hold it. 

“Could I… have… that… back?” 

This appeal doesn’t move him in the slightest. 

You shift your weight between your legs. “Please?” 

“You can,” Blade starts, momentarily filling you with hope, “Come reach for it.” 

There is no hope in this universe, you decide. Nihilism is the only plausible option. 

Blade dodges all your valiant attempts. When you’re about to give up, he lowers the garment, dangling it in a silent taunt. It then ascends to the heavens the second you dive for it. 

He leaves your office that night with a blouse he hadn’t owned hours earlier.

And your cute panties.

Lear

Hello

Lear

Are you awake? 

You’ll scold me if I say I am

Lear

Historically, that is true

Lear

You focus on caring for others so much you forget to care for yourself

You make me sound like a better person than I really am I’m just doing my job

Lear

There you go with self-deprecation again… 

It isn’t self-deprecation if it’s true >:)c

Lear

That isn’t how that works

Lear

You’ve always been hard on yourself 

Lear

I know what you’re going to say so I’ll stop you preemptively 

Lear

Anyone could’ve been born in your role and decided not to take it seriously. You didn’t choose the situation but you chose your response to it

Lear

… I swear I didn’t intend for this to become a lecture

I believe you What was your original intention then? 

Lear

Our phone call 

Lear

Nona decided to try a grilled cheese ‘hack’ she saw on the internet 

Lear

She’s lost stove privileges for a week

Is it truly a punishment if she gets to eat your cooking? 

Lear

Well

Lear

It’s either that or she starves

Fair point Bring me some leftovers or I’m docking your pay >:)c

Lear

I wish Nona never taught you that face. It brings something primitive out of you

>:)c

Lear

(ง •̀_•́)ง

Oh I forgot about those They’re way better

Lear

Yeah 

Lear

ε (*´･ω･) з

Lear

… I got distracted again…

( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴

Lear

Okay okay enough with the emoticons

Lear

I wanted to ask if we could please talk one-on-one 

Pick a date and time and I’ll do my best to fit you into my schedule.  I make no promises. The current estimated wait list is five Trailblazer Years.

Lear

Do you accept bribes

Naturally. I am a government official.

Lear

I’ll bring you a slice of my galatopita

You’re in

Lear

Actually, I wanted you to pick the time

Lear

I know that person has to be around and I won’t ask about it

Lear

But there is something about him that unsettles me

Lear

Does he ever leave?

He’s always on the LOTUS-EATER’s premises He doesn’t have to be in the room though I can ask him to leave

Lear

You feel comfortable doing that?

Yeah, it’ll be fine

Lear

Even after what happened last time?

You could hit me in the head with a brick and I’d still trust your judgment If you think it’ll be okay I’ll think the same

Lear

(^◇^；)

Lear

What an extreme example

Lear

It’s very you though

I know a backhanded compliment when I see one

Lear

(;° ロ°)

Lear

Hey don’t say that

Lear

[First]? ?????

Lear

… You’re messing with me again, I take it?

>:)c I’ll send you the details

Lear

Thank you

Lear

Want to play a round of Connect Four? 

Need you even ask

Lear has invited you to play Connect Four™©®.

You have accepted Lear’s invitation to play Connect Four™©®.

The break room has changed significantly since you were little. Gone are the sterile, eggshell white walls and beige furniture. The redone interior boasts bold greens and yellows, colors that aren’t commonly seen on Eris. This bright expanse was one of the few suggestions your mother took you up on. You even convinced her to get a terrarium imported that goes through a randomly selected flora’s lifespan in twenty-four hours. A few besmirched it as ‘watching grass grow but slightly sped up,’ until certain flowers got popular. The daisy with petals that burned was a LOTUS-EATER staff favorite. So is the dahlia that spins like a pinwheel. 

“Was there something you wanted to ask?” 

Lear places his cup of ice water down. “Does it taste alright?” 

“It’s delicious,” you hum. “That’s not what I was referring to, though.” 

You finish your dessert while Lear mulls over your words. The light, creamy taste of the egg custard, the dash of cinnamon strewn across the browned top; he’d do well if he ever started a dessert business. 

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask about it, but…” Lear’s sapphire eyes flitter toward the door, the paper-thin barrier dividing you from Blade. “Has everything been alright during this… er…” 

“House arrest?” 

“That’s a way of putting it,” he sighs. “I know it’s for your safety, but being stuck in this building for weeks on end can’t be good for you.”

“It’s always been this way to an extent. Now it’s just official.” 

He grimaces.

“That doesn’t bother you?” 

This area utilizes the same technology available in your office or the private rooms. Sound waves cannot travel beyond a set point, or in this case, beyond the breakroom. This safety net allows you to comfortably speak your mind. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t stopped long enough to ask myself that. From my perspective, I have two choices — accept the current situation and carry on, or, get upset and carry on, only with less efficiency.” 

Lear struggles to maintain a neutral countenance. It’s why you always beat him at card games. 

“... Okay, that sounds a bit bleak. What I’m trying to say is that I can’t dwell on what’s out of my control. I’ll focus on what I can do and work from there.” 

“Don’t tell me you haven’t brooded at least a little.” 

“Ha, I’ve done my fair share of that. I’ve just reduced it from boiling to a nice, tolerable simmer.” 

Lear’s grip on his glass tightens. “You’ve matured a lot.” 

“Eh? You think so?” You wonder. “If anything, I should’ve been this way to begin with. I had you as the premier example to follow.” 

Lear’s smile doesn’t reach his tired eyes. 

He inhales sharply. After a moment’s consideration, he comes over, pulls out a chair, and sits facing you. This is the closest you’ve been for a long time. He never wanted you to be afflicted with those visceral headaches, so he maintained his distance. For him to cross the bulwark he painstakingly built cannot be easy. 

Slowly, he raises his palm. He stops at the halfway mark between you. You knit your eyebrows. Does he want you to…? 

“It might not be a brick, but it’s similar,” Lear says, his voice soft. 

His hand is calloused from years of cleaning dishes and tinkering with various contraptions. His fingers tremble, belying the nerves he’s trying to push out of sight. This trepidation isn’t for his sake, it’s for yours. The dire consequences that could be reaped. It’s a gamble where you’re the one forced to go all in.

Your heart pounds and pounds. 

You’ll trust him. 

You’ve always trusted him. 

Lear’s skin is cold yet clammy. His hand overshadows yours, though not by much. They fit together as well as they used to. Unlike then, your touch is more hesitant than his. His fingers sink down and clasp your hand, an action you mirror. Nothing’s happening. Nothing hurts. 

You expect a relieved exclamation or expression from Lear, only to receive heavy silence instead. 

He squeezes your hand once then pulls away. 

“Do you remember the ‘important promise’ you wanted to make when we were kids?” 

You nod. 

“I did want to make it, actually. I don’t know if I ever mentioned that.” 

“It’s been so long, it’s possible I don’t remember, but… I don’t think you ever said that, no.” 

“The promise I mentioned was one I made with my mom,” Lear lowers his head. “She made me promise that I’d forgive my father. I never planned on it, not while he was living and breathing at least. I knew that and still… I agreed for her sake. It might seem silly, but that ate at me. She never asked me for anything, and the one time she did, it was something I refused to fulfill.” 

You lean forward, hesitate to put your hand on his shoulder, yet ultimately overcome the instinct. “You were just a child, Lear.” 

“I know. The reason I’m going into this is that… even when I wasn’t a child, I’d sit there and judge my father. I thought he’d acted cowardly. Instead of acknowledging mom’s declining condition, he’d buy more equipment and supposed miracle cures. He worked nonstop. Mom didn’t want that. She just wanted to be with her family while she could.” 

You can hear the lump forming in his throat. You pass him your water, which he gulps down. He gives himself a second and then continues.

“He wasn’t delusional. He knew, and still, he tried so hard to convince himself that he didn’t. There must’ve been some moment of clarity when it hit him,” Lear’s fair eyelashes flutter shut. “What you said to Nona… that was my moment of clarity. My punishment.”

Thoughts swarm through your mind like the Propagation’s reign of terror from eras past. 

“‘Punishment?’ Why would you deserve a punishment?” You probe. 

Lear doesn’t know how to respond. His lips open and close, words escaping him. What comes out next is interwoven with anguish’s thread.

“Mrs. Phaeales approached me about our relationship. I was so worried, I don’t remember her exact words… it was something along the lines of, ‘If you truly care about her, you need to end this before she gets hurt.’ She wouldn’t go into the specifics. It didn’t come across as a threat, just… a plea, maybe. Eventually, I agreed. It hurt, but I didn’t see any other option. How could I ever willingly do something that’d make you suffer? You, the person who matters to me the most?” 

This torrential downpour soaks into your very being. 

“It should’ve ended there. I thought it ended there. Then I saw you again, and god. You’re so… so confident, beautiful, and bright; I couldn’t do it. I was at a loss, and… then I had this thought. ‘I want to keep her even if it destroys her.’ I couldn’t shake it. That isn’t love, I-I don’t know what that is.”

“Everyone has thoughts they aren’t proud of.” 

“But you didn’t know, because I was too ashamed to tell you,” Lear insists, each word growing quieter. “So instead, you thought you did something to me, right?” 

He wouldn’t look you in the eye. His arms remained limp by his side as you unbuttoned his shirt, tense and strained. You pulled back. Something felt terribly wrong. A sharp pang shot through your skull. You ignored it and beseeched him to tell you what was wrong. He wouldn’t. The sharp pang ricocheted. Being close to him hurt. It was as if you were on the same side of a magnet. He repelled you and you couldn’t fight it. You tried to preserve, tried to claw through whatever barrier he’d put up. 

… A barrier?

Had he not wanted this? Was the gravity of your desire too intense for an individual who isn’t trained to resist? 

“I…” your mouth is dry. “Yes.” 

“You didn’t. I knew you didn’t, and like my father, I tried convincing myself otherwise,” he reopens his eyes, revealing a glassy sheen. He wipes it away with his long sleeve. “I ran out of excuses.” 

You don’t know how to begin parsing through this information. It undermines the rough understanding you’ve operated on for decades. The foundations haven’t just cracked, they’ve collapsed, and the materials are damaged beyond reuse. Anything you build will require a new blueprint. 

“If it isn’t manipulation, what exactly is it?” You murmur, placing a hand on your chin. “You rightfully guessed nothing would happen if we came into contact. What made you think that?”

The direction you’ve chosen to steer this conversation toward surprises him. This must not be the response he braced himself for. Regardless, he’s quick to offer anything he can. 

“Something just felt different, I guess? I’m sorry if that isn’t helpful, I can’t think of a better way to describe it.” 

Mother must’ve known more than she let on, you think. ‘Before she gets hurt,’ she said. Shouldn’t it have been ‘before Lear gets hurt?’ She cared about him plenty too. So why…? 

You pace around the breakroom, your heels clicking throughout the otherwise silent room. 

Alister listened when he thought you were taking him to ‘Roze’, a significant other he created in past Synalinks. He tried to kill you after you took him outside and it became evident that wasn’t your intention. No link could be established past that point. Then there’s Blade. You thought you could manipulate him to rescue potential survivors. You were rushed, yes, but you made absolutely no progress. 

“My mind has a will of its own,” Blade tells you. “It’s loud. Something about you quiets it down.” 

What can psyches roughly be broken down into? Primary, unfiltered instincts; an individual’s rationality, or ability to reason; then their mortality, what lines they will or won’t cross. When properly aligned, the mind operates as a cohesive mechanism. However, if there’s friction, disharmony abounds. The resulting fissure causes strife until it’s plastered back together.

It hits you. 

What it is that makes Exalted Arbiters so paramount, why your abilities far surpass others.

You’re a living, breathing conductor, amplifying raw, often questionable instincts. A lightning rod meant to attract the attention of what reason and morality try so valiantly to suppress. 

You forgo your pacing and sit back down. “Lear.” 

“Y-Yes?” 

“All of us are stupid.” 

“Eh?” 

“Well-meaning and stupid,” you reiterate. “I know what you want from me. You’re not going to get it. You condemned yourself, I condemned myself… what good did that do? Did it change anything? Make it better?” 

You shake your head. “We like to torture ourselves; we’re adept at it. Enough. It’s finished.”

“... You don’t need to make me feel better—” 

Lear receives a flick on the forehead. 

“Idiot, half of that spiel was for me. Maybe three-quarters.” 

You grab his hand and give it a hearty squeeze. 

He squeezes back.

You both sit there, in this room that’s changed throughout the decades. Where you played make-believe (or, to be more exact, coerced Lear into playing the princess role so you could be the knight), gorged on junk food until you both got sick, plotted how to blow up the IPC with a water gun; you never thought you’d be able to do those things. The dumb, silly things you’d watch in movies or read about in books. 

Lear runs the pad of his thumb up and down your hand. “[First].” 

“Mhm?” 

“Everything you just said — I can tell you believe it.” His breath hitches. “So why… why do you look so sad?” 

You force a smile.

“I think I had my moment of clarity,” you tell him. “Like mother, like daughter.”

Whoever coined the term ‘misery loves company’ deserves the 85th spot in the Genius Society. 

Blade sits beside you on a sinfully comfortable couch in The Club. His legs are crossed and his arm finds its respite behind you; not touching yet close enough. He’s your perpetual shadow. You steal a glance at his side profile. His jaw’s set and his eyebrows crease inward enough for his otherwise unblemished skin to wrinkle. 

“Would you like to talk about your innermost feelings, Mr. 8.13 billion?” 

Nothing, not even a halfhearted grunt, which comprises 50% of his vocabulary. 

“No? Okay. Let’s focus on mine then,” you motion to the empty bar. “My innermost feelings are telling me to drink until my brain becomes a gray matter slushie. Any recommendations?” 

It’s as if you’re trying to communicate with a rock. Which, according to the latest journals published in Geo Elements Organized, might be possible thanks to an artificial intelligence translator who learned how to speak rock. Apparently, pebbles are prone to bigotry. Marble sings operatic arias but each note is flat. These cutting-edge discoveries justify your 10,000 credit monthly subscription no matter what your financial advisor says. 

You exaggerate your sigh. “Fine, I’ll pick my own poison.” 

“Baijiu,” he eventually says.

“Hm? What’s that?” 

He looks at you like you’re an idiot.

“My, my, somebody’s touchy.” 

You hop the counter and peruse your establishment’s expansive selection. Hundreds of brands slapped over uniquely shaped bottles line the wall, each displaying information about their inside contents. You squint. What if he just said a random word to get you out of his hair? Your liquor knowledge consists of the basics, you’d be none the wiser if that’s the case. 

“Where might I find this— oh, fuck.” 

Blade is right beside you in the blink of an eye. Your hand flies to your chest, and while you’re trying to process how someone can move so fast, he finds what must be his intended target. It’s a tall, green bottle with a script you recognize as belonging to the Xianzhou Alliance. How did he ever expect you to find that on your own? 

He rummages around and finds little wine-shaped shot glasses. In the meantime, you scan over the various juices and additives available. It’s been rough, but not drinking-alcohol-without-a-fruity-infusion rough. Blade notices your scheming and shakes his head. 

“Men are so pretentious about liquor,” you lament. 

“You asked.” 

“My mistake.” 

He ignores you and returns to the couch. You do the same, up until the point where you’re about to sit down. His gaze grows heavier, more concentrated. It took millions of years of evolution to develop complex language and he still chooses to opt out. What a waste. An unofficial staring contest commences. What does he take you for? A mind reader? You technically are, but still, using your abilities for this is beneath you. Especially while you’re in the midst of a crisis that you’d give anything to stop thinking about. 

Blade must have a mind-altering epiphany that he has additional motor functions at his disposal. He pats his thigh. 

He stares at you.

You stare at him. 

You examine your black pencil skirt that stops above your knees. Hopping the counter in this was more of a way to pretend you’re in your early twenties again, not an invitation to test the fabric’s limits. You’ve lost multiple pairs of panties, a nice bra, and a blouse to this bodyguard who took the occupation’s prefix very seriously. This classy skirt isn’t going to be an addition to the clothes necropolis. 

“I like this skirt,” you simply state. 

You stare at him.

He stares at you. 

Your vision undergoes an odd change. One moment, you were standing tall and assertive, looking down your nose at him. In the instant that follows, you’re facing the bar, its black marble countertop and gravity adaptive stools coming into focus. What you’re sitting on isn’t a foam cushion that’s as soft as a cloud. It’s rigid and displeases your tailbone. You struggle to balance yourself, an issue that’s solved by Blade’s left arm curving snugly around your waist. 

“Did you just—” You cut yourself off, unable to dredge up the energy necessary to get annoyed. He could throw you through the roof for all you care. Sitting you on his lap is forgivable enough. “Whatever, you’re pouring my drink then.” 

He’s already in the process of doing so. He pops the lid and fills the specially shaped shot glass with clear liquid. An aromatic fragrance of fruits and spices wafts through the air. It’s a world captured in a bottle; another place you’ll never get to see. You have to settle for admiring pictures and reading firsthand accounts. 

Does Blade have an association with the Xianzhou Alliance? It isn’t your place to ask, but you’re curious nonetheless. He’s been a silent spectator of your life for the past few months yet you know nothing about him. It should stay that way — getting involved with him physically is already questionable enough. Especially now that you fully grasp the phenomena that’s been haunting you. 

The thought makes you wince. 

You lean your head back and down the shot. 

It burns as it travels down your throat. You cough, the unexpected strength hitting you with the force of a collapsing star. Maybe you should’ve worked your way up to taking shots. It’s too late to rectify the mistake, your hubris is irreversible. The bastard chuckles at your suffering. It’s the briefest chuckle you’ve ever heard, but it still counts. 

“What is the— what is the alcohol content of that?” You rasp out. 

“Eighty.”

You crane your neck to glare at him. “If you wanted to kill me, the sword would’ve been faster.” 

He rolls his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes at you. He picks you up, sticks a little ribbon on your head, and delivers you to death’s doorstep only to disregard your valid concerns? The 8.13 billion bounty isn’t enough. They need to double it. 

“I’d like to see you drink this. Considering your prehistoric age, it might short-circuit your cardiovascular system.” 

Blade pilfers your empty shot glass. He refills it, swallows without any fanfare, and then resumes his staring regimen. 

You don’t know if you should be impressed or offended that his tolerance is better than yours.

Ultimately, your competitive nature wins out. You manage two more shots before waving the white flag. The flavor itself isn’t that bad once you get past the initial shock, it’s slightly fruity. The alcohol taste packs a punch though. A version with a lower ABV would suit you better. 

You sigh, lean into his chest, and try in vain to smooth out your bunched-up skirt.

Your inebriated daze hits fast. There’s no pleasant buzz accompanying it, only exhaustion. The kind that makes the prospect of sleeping for a few years tempting. Those cryogenic pod ads know how to sell their product. It speaks volumes how simple their marketing remains since they’re so high in demand. 

You inspect your soulless business. There aren’t any clients traveling to and fro, well-dressed ladies having their fur coats removed by valets, or businessmen celebrating a deal by clinking their glasses together. It’s eerily quiet. There’s nothing but the sound of your slow breathing and the thrum of the oxygen generator. 

This planet’s heart remains frozen with you at the epicenter.

“What’s it like to travel across the universe?” You ask. 

“It’s just work.” 

Just work. You’ve received variations of this response when you’ve used this question on clients. They’ll take your silence as a signal to prattle, complaining about jet lag, getting through customs, finding a hotel that isn’t ridiculously overpriced during busy seasons; on and on they’d go. You’d sit across from them, smiling and nodding along, verbally empathizing with their plight. If they went on too long, you’d temporarily excuse yourself before your agitation spewed forth. 

“That’s it?” You murmur. 

He’s silent. 

You kick your heels off, lay your legs across his lap and the couch, then sling your right arm around his shoulders to hold yourself in place. He observes you with no discernible emotion as you make yourself comfortable. 

“Tell me about it,” you implore. “The universe. Please.” 

Blade considers your request. You take it as a good sign he hasn’t shut you down immediately. For once, you don’t needle him. You just sit there with high hopes and a pleading expression. A peculiar emotion surges around him. It whispers to you, requesting that you lean in and hear it better. You deny the impulse and swat it away. 

This mental exertion almost causes you to miss his frown and pinched-together eyebrows.

It’s fleeting, but there’s no misinterpreting what you saw. 

Have you ever seen Blade’s face reveal so much? 

It’s a vault he doesn’t leave open long. The doors seal shut before you can catalog the contents inside.

“Nothing I’ve seen is worth telling.” 

You part your lips yet no sound comes out. You retract your arms from him and lay on your back, resting your forearm against your head. The LOTUS-EATER’s dark ceiling becomes your latest intrigue. It’s a cool shade of gray, mimicking the joyless sky that hovers outside like a specter deadset on haunting the living. You hate it. Everything’s gray, bland, depressing, an insult to the vibrancy that accompanies sentient beings. 

You close your eyes and all goes silent. 

After a while, his deep voice rumbles, “Do you want to see it?” 

“Hm?” 

“The universe,” he clarifies. 

“Oh. Of course. But…” you pause, noticing how draining an endeavor it is to string together a coherent thought, “If I could, I wouldn’t. Too much… there’s too much I hafta do… here.” 

There’s Nona. You want to help her reach her full potential, she’s brimming with it, a never-ending source of energy and zeal. Then there’s Lear. Why he idolizes you to such a degree, you’ll never understand. He should turn that starry-eyed gaze inward. It’s ironic — he considers you confident, yet you’ve always shied away from ever revealing the fathomless depths of your care. 

You were born to be an object and he made you a person. 

How can you ever repay a debt like that? Why is it so awkward and awful to express anything you feel without theatrics accompanying them? You have to tell him. You know he loves you, and while the love you hold for him is different, does he know that? How could he, if you’ve been so hesitant to say those three harrowing words? 

Man, you think. My head’s killing me.

“Tired?” 

After you grumble in the affirmative, he lifts you up. You think you might be floating. Your head lulls to the side and comes into contact with something solid, which proves you aren’t. Gravity hasn’t quit its longstanding tenure. Your blurred journey begins when you’re laid down in a spot more cozy than the couch cushions. It feels familiar and safe. Tension melts from your body, slinking off to loan you a brief solace. The interest is set high, but you’re too blissfully content to care.

That night, you dream of an ocean dutifully guarded by the sun.

The waves rise and fall along the shoreline, the breeze carries the scent of saltwater, and aquatic birds caw from above. 

Bright white sand is plentiful beneath your bare feet. It tickles your toes and tricks you into thinking you’ll sink with every tentative step. 

As you walk along this esplanade, an object hidden amongst the sand jabs into your sole. 

Blood pools from the wound, trickles down a steep slope, and infects the ocean. 

The scarlet droplet corrupts and warps it, devouring any color it comes into contact with. It's insatiable, a bloody blight that proliferates until the sea is swallowed whole. 

The moon eclipses a dying sun. Driven by vanity, it paints its likeness across red, shimmering waves. 

Unknown 

I have good news 

Unknown 

I’ll be recalling Bladie soon

Unknown 

I located the party responsible for endangering your life

Unknown 

Isn’t that great? 

If you’re being honest, then yes

Unknown

Am I not renowned for my honesty? 

Unknown 

No harm will befall you, so rest easy

Unknown

I hope we can continue our mutually beneficial partnership ♡

-

If there’s anything your mother’s passing has taught you, it’s that time isn’t guaranteed. 

You thought you’d have a lifetime to see eye to eye with her. Over centuries, the layers you cultivated would peel back. You’d then ask her the questions that have lingered on the tip of your tongue. 

Did you want to have me, or was it out of obligation? 

Is this the way you want to live? 

Am I a daughter or a burden? 

You don’t know what scared you more. The idea of asking her, or what the answers might be. 

None of your blood relations are living, but you still have a family. You refuse to treat something as fickle as time lightly again. Nona’s past, Lear’s present, your future; you can only dance around it for so long. The tempo will inevitably speed up beyond what you can follow. Lear’s confession reaffirmed how dangerous this complacency is. By believing you’re sparing one another pain, you’re only sparing yourself. 

Your tea’s gone cold. The remnants swirl down the basin’s drain. 

The true nature of your abilities, the shackles it puts you in, you’ll tell them everything. 

You shoot them a text, asking them to meet you tonight at the LOTUS-EATER. You then set your phone to Do Not Disturb and place it aside. 

Blade won’t be on Eris much longer. Your chances to help him are limited and you still haven’t fulfilled your promise. 

You’d like to try and remedy that. 

“I may have been a bit prickly when we first met, but I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for all you’ve done. I’m sure you just consider this a job, which is just as well, still, I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. I don’t even want to imagine what would become of this planet in my absence. So please give me one last opportunity to deter your mara.” 

Blade gives you a long, hard look. 

“You’re talking like that again?” 

“I’m trying to be professional.” 

He walks over and leers down at you. You return his blank stare unabashedly. Eventually, he readjusts the collar of your ivory blouse. 

“What was that for?” You ask.

“I saw something that isn’t very professional.” 

Glancing down, you pull the fabric back, revealing a prominent hickey. Your face ignites and you frantically cover it. 

You clear your throat. “Is it a contractual obligation for you Stellaron Hunters to get on my nerves?” 

The glint in his eye makes you nervous. 

“Actually, do me a favor and don’t answer that. Just tell me if you’re interested or not, I’m a busy woman.” 

He thinks it over and nods. 

Throughout the preparation and rites, you consider what you’ve learned. Individuals exposed to you become more willing to act or dwell on their subconscious desires. The exact metrics aren’t clear, but you can safely assume this effect amplifies the longer they’re around you. These desires have a wide range. It can be as innocent as causing an older brother who ran away from his grief to finally cry over his deceased sister, or fuel for justifying selfish actions. 

Blade’s case feels different. 

Unprecedented as the other examples are, you can understand them somewhat. If a person acts on their most innate wishes, their behavior will change accordingly. However, what you’re causing here extends beyond psychological — it’s physiological too. Is that even possible? What could he possibly want enough to alter the fabric of his very being? 

If you can find out, maybe the revelation will help him. 

And so you close your eyes. 

“To dream is a sacred thing. Don’t fear it. Welcome it, rejoice in it, and shed no tears when it is finished. We’ve been granted your purest blessing. As you slumber, we find rest in you. Allow us the sweetest of dreams.” 

…

Blade’s psyche has changed.

The grayscale composition is gone. Vitality has been crowned the new ruler, overthrowing the morose atmosphere in a successful rebellion. This change brings no alleviation to the undercurrents of grief that hang heavy in the air. Instead, it feels more erratic, like a heart beating wildly after waking from a coma. 

The Shackling Prison stands beyond a straight path as if it's been waiting for you. 

The first time you entered his mind, it rejected you. Now, it’s pulling you in, its gravity far-reaching. 

You hesitate to proceed.

Is it his mara that’s responsible for this? You won’t be able to tell unless you keep going. 

The invisible force that expelled you nudges you from behind. 

You recall when Blade first appeared before you. Your physical eyes showed you a man while every other sense warned he was a beast. A carnivore that would devour anything, predator or prey alike. You believed it then and you believe it now. His condition has condemned him. Where he walks, destruction follows. It’d make sense for you to abandon him to fate’s whims. 

This excruciating hunger digests him too. It’s destined to eat him alive while postponing merciful death. 

Fate can be cruel, but you have an opportunity to be kind. 

You make your way to the Shackling Prison’s gates. 

The seal that’s served as a hindrance halts you. You examine the once bold obstruction. It has faded, its strength depleted, held together by nothing. At its peak, you think it would have pushed you out instantly. Now, as your incorporeal hand presses against it, there’s little it can do. The most it can muster is the resilience to delay you a few more seconds. 

After that, it shatters and fades like weeping stardust. 

A prismatic shard forms from its ashes, coalescing into a blurred, moving image. Distorted sounds crackle from it, which you soon recognize as garbled speech. The noise becomes clearer. You hear a low thrum in the background. Its timbre matches the oxygen generator standard in Eris’ buildings. 

This must be one of Blade’s memories. 

“I know you’re impatient, but play nice a while longer,” a saccharine voice hums. “She’ll be here any minute now.” 

That voice… 

The image sharpens and unveils a grand screen plastered against a wall. It sections off into numerous squares, each dedicated to displaying financial data. It’s bright, obnoxiously so, attesting to the owner’s tacky taste. 

Chrysus’ office? 

A door creaks. Hastened footsteps approach, ringing throughout the brightly lit room. The pair of eyes you’re viewing this memory from — Blade’s — shift to locate the source. The color they arrive at is familiar. It’s the same shade you see upon viewing your reflection, although the shape differs. 

Mom? You wonder, astonishment hitting like pelting hail. What was she doing, meeting with a Stellaron Hunter in Chrysus’ office of all places…? 

“Your message surprised me, Exalted Arbiter. Getting you to agree to a face-to-face meeting is normally like pulling a tooth. What’s the occasion?” The honeyed voice, which can only belong to Kafka, greets. 

“Don’t play coy with me,” your mother replies. While her words are sharp, they aren’t warped with emotion. This is the demeanor she assumed when conducting business. Her sagacity is a trait you’ve never been able to fully emulate. “That thing’s leaving baubles on my daughter’s balcony. How many times have I told you to tighten your dog’s leash?”

“Oh? I thought I had.” 

Your mother smiles thinly. “Should I add incompetent leadership to your list of defects? Deals are meant to be followed. Otherwise, why make them at all?”

“We draw lines to test them. So long as they aren’t crossed, there’s no harm.” 

“Spare me your casuistry. I don’t want that thing anywhere near her.” 

Your head feels like it’s being stretched in multiple directions at once. This sequence unfolding before you has a dizzying effect. Why is your mother so outwardly hostile to Kafka? The Stellaron Hunter isn’t your favorite person either, but this transcends simple dislike. It’s personal, raw. She’s maneuvered through diatribes that’d make anyone else go red in the face, her poise unruffled. Kafka’s little provocations pale in comparison.

Not to your mother, though. She’s a thinning thread close to snapping. 

“As per our original agreement, there’s no harm as long as she doesn’t notice him,” Kafka dismisses. She leisurely sits on Chrysus’ desk, not bothering to move his papers aside. She then crosses her legs and smiles. Her eyes emit an unnatural glow. “On the topic of testing lines… let’s not pretend you’re innocent either.” 

Your mother doesn’t so much as flinch. “If you’re going to make accusations, at least have the confidence to be forthright.”

“You’re fascinating to deal with, Exalted Arbiter,” Kafka croons. “This is why I look forward to our chats. You don’t cower or plead for mercy like our friend outside did. It’s a welcome change.” 

“I’d rather you don’t compare me to Ophídion.” 

Kafka drums her fingers against the table’s surface. For such a simple sound, it’s deeply grating. “Forgive me in advance, then, because I intend to one more time.” 

Your mother remains silent, her lips taut. 

“Still not afraid, hm? Let’s see if we can change that,” Kafka’s smile widens, which crinkles the skin beneath her eyes. “Chrysus’ shipments of ichor are exact, down to the milliliter. Always delivered on time as well. Comparatively, your end of the bargain is far simpler. You just have to grant Bladie ready access to Miss Phaeales’ vicinity. But, I heard something regrettable through the grapevine.” 

Your mother’s eye twitches. 

“You’ve been shopping around for a way to sneak [First] off Eris, correct? Tsk, tsk.” 

All falls silent save for the generator’s dedicated hum. 

Your mother stands unflinching, folding her hands in front of her. The two openly scrutinize each other. Calculating, strategizing. Her posture betrays nothing. There’s no guilt or apprehension, making it impossible for you to determine the credibility of Kafka’s words. 

“It’s fear you devils can’t experience, correct?” Your mother queries. “Here’s a suggestion — try having a daughter yourself. You praise me for not caving to intimidation; that’s because I’ve experienced far worse. From their conception to our death, fear is the only thing we mothers know. Fear that they won’t become like us, or, even worse, that they will. What a funny juncture we occupy.” 

Mom’s voice doesn’t sound right. It’s so… forlorn. 

You don’t want to keep watching. 

You can’t pull yourself away — the memory’s weight is heavy enough to pull you back in. 

“Is that maternal dedication enough to condemn an entire planet?” Kafka ponders. “I’m not a judge who is eager to sentence. I’ve been lenient with you and would love to keep it that way. Leave Miss Phaeales in my care, no harm will befall her.” 

For the first time since entering the room, your mother acknowledges Blade’s existence. Her eyes turn to slits as she scowls at him. Disgust, reprehension, and wrath; it converges in a maelstrom that could sink fleets of ships. You hone in on the emotions Blade experienced at that instant. There’s nothing. It’s hollow, save for blots of mild impatience. 

“It wouldn’t be your care, it’d be his.” 

Your soul convulses. 

“Is that so terrible?” Kafka hums. “Separated, they’re essentially cursed, the poor things. They complement each other well, the more you think about it. One who incites madness and another who has the means to resist it. You of all people should understand that, hm? Or is Mr. Phaeales available to voice his dissent?” 

Dad?

Darkness passes over her countenance. 

You don’t understand and you’re afraid to. Kafka freely tosses around the most taboo topics as if twirling a poisoned dagger on her fingers. 

One who incites madness. Is that what you are? A catastrophe patiently waiting for its chance? That can’t always be the case, but, more often than not, what a person covets most should never be fully realized. There’s a reason the sensible and moral components of one’s psyche stuff this risk down as deep as it’ll go. If everyone did what they wanted, whenever they wanted, civilization itself would cease to exist. 

As for Blade’s role in this… Kafka must know whatever he wants would have a value that outweighs the potential drawbacks. 

“I won’t let her be reduced to a retractable leash for your attack dog,” she seethes. “Let your Cancer of All Worlds do what it will. My decision is final.” 

Electricity crackles in the air. 

“It’s this script, then,” Kafka murmurs, more to herself than anything. “So many diverging paths, so many possibilities. To think that out of all futures you’d get to pick out specially for [First]...” 

Kafka motions toward Blade, who readies his weapon. 

“You chose one of the worst ones.” 

some misc author notes for this one:

regarding the reader's condition, i didn't want to include a sigmund freud jumpscare in the story itself, so it gets to be down here instead. for those unfamiliar with his theories, what reader is referring to here:

'What can psyches roughly be broken down into? Primary, unfiltered instincts; an individual’s rationality, or ability to reason; then their mortality, what lines they will or won’t cross. When properly aligned, the mind operates as a cohesive mechanism. However, if there’s friction, disharmony abounds. The resulting fissure causes strife until it’s plastered back together.'

is a more abstract version of freud's concept of the id, ego, and superego respectively. originally, i used this exact terminology, but something about it just felt very immersion breaking to me 😭 all i could do was think about mr freud floating about in the honkai universe. consequently, the unreliable narration of reader trying to understand her condition + not using the widely known terminology made me worry it'd be a bit confusing...

so, in freudian terms, being continually exposed to reader's presence causes an individual's id to dominate their thoughts/actions instead of their ego and superego.

[nina-ya]

HI NINA!! I hope ur doing well, for some reason I never realized your requests are open but ive had this little idea with me for a while and I would really like to see it written ;))

can I request law × reader whos like a spirit or ghost kind of?? But only law can see them for some reason. Also reader is not dead hh they might be a spirit because of a curse or something maybe...

maybe a little angsty (or very)?? Either way, I can't wait to see what you write :)) i love ur work sossoooo much and thank uu!!

A/N: HIIIIIIII I had a lot of fun with this idea actually I DO HOPE YOU ENJOY!! Angst really gets me in my feels and I kinda left it to the possibility of a p2 if anyone ever wanted it :'))) Pairing: Law x reader CW: None really just angst towards the end WC: 2k

You sighed to yourself. Another pirate had arrived, their purpose unclear- were they here for treasure? A place to rest? Or to investigate the rumors of the haunted building? Said building is being haunted by you, of course. You hadn’t intended for the place to become a spectacle that would send even the toughest pirates screaming for their mothers, but the curse condemning you to the spirit world left you with little control over this, so you had to make the most out of it, right? You gave up hope long ago that you would be able to be freed from the clutches of curse. You wandered city to city. You even stowed away on pirate ships to go to different islands, desperate to find a miracle that would help, but that all got tiring and soon enough you called the building you resided in your new home.

From the rafters, you peered down at the interesting pirate that had just entered. He sported a spotted hat, matching pants, and a halfway unbuttoned dress shirt that revealed one of the many heart themed tattoos adorning his skin. 

His voice filled the room, muttering about the rumors of the haunted building, and frustration surged within you. This intruder had disrupted your quiet evening, prompting you to cut his visit short and scare him off. You swung off the rafters and landed on a cabinet with an open door, slamming it shut with a great deal of force.

The metallic sound of a sword unsheathing sliced through the air as the man focused on the source of the disturbance. His eyes locked onto yours, momentarily causing panic through you. Could he truly see you? You questioned the possibility for a moment, but rationalized that he was only looking in your general direction rather than directly at you.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice demanding.

A shiver ran down your spine as the weight of his gaze fell upon you. ‘Impossible,’ you thought, ‘there’s no way he’s talking to me.’

“I suggest you answer my question before you regret it,” he stated, a blue orb materializing in an outstretched hand.

Disbelief filled your senses as you responded. “Wait, wait, wait… hold on… you can see me?” you stammered, trying to understand the reality that is unfolding before your eyes.

“Quit playing games; of course I can see you,” he replied, his voice unwavering.

You stumbled over your words as you tried to satiate his demands, “I’m sorry, it’s just… well, you’re the first person that’s seen me like this.”

Law grew impatient, and with a quick motion, he enclosed you in the blue bubble of his room, slashing at you. Yet, that was a futile effort as the force passed through you without a trace. Frustration bubbled within him as he attempted again and again, the uselessness of his efforts quickly settling in.

“What the hell is the meaning of this?” He finally snapped, his voice filled with irritation and subtle curiosity.

“Let me explain!” you pleaded, taking the opportunity to share your story. “I’ve been like this for a while and I think I’m a ghost? I can’t really tell.”

"A ghost? Really?" Law sighed, his skepticism obvious. "Okay, whatever, go on."

A sigh of relief escaped you as you continued your story. The tale of encountering a curse, the passage of time, and the unexplainable circumstances that left you in this state spilled from your lips. However, Law rolled his eyes and cut you off.

"I don't know what kind of fun you gain from telling this story to people, but it's not going to work on me," he declared, moving to leave the building, his patience gone.

Desperation filled you as you chased after him in a plea to be heard. "Wait! Please! I promise I am not making this up."

"Yeah, yeah, go find some other oblivious person to fool," he retorted, rounding a corner, making his exit.

You positioned yourself in his path. "Wait! Give me a chance! Don't leave yet!" Your desperate voice rang out.

He rolled his eyes at you, "would you shut up and leave me alone?" he barked back, the force of his words drawing the attention of passersby. Some stopped  in their tracks, casting curious glances your way, while others continued their journey with judgment evident in their glances.

He looked around, noticing the stares. "Look, now you're bringing attention to us," he said, irritation dripping from his features.

The whispers of the crowd filled his ears, 'Us?' 'Is he okay?' 'Why is he talking to the air?'

A sense of unease settled over Law as the judgmental murmurs were made clear to him. Clenching his jaw to hold off a retort, he shot you a silent look that said, 'Follow me,' before walking away.

Back inside the building, the door barely closed when Law spoke up, his tone unchanged, "So, a ghost, you say?"

You sighed in relief at the opportunity to explain. "I… I mean, I think so? A ghost or a spirit, or any other synonym would probably be my best guess."

"Your best guess? Do you not know what happened to you?"

"No! I really don't," you admitted with a sigh. "All I know is that one day, I messed with some people that I shouldn't have, and well… I'm like this now."

His face remained expressionless, a calculating gaze fixed upon you. The silence stretched, and you couldn't bear it any longer. A nervous chuckle escaped you. "So, uh, I guess I have to properly introduce myself to the first human I've spoken to in a while, huh." You extended your hand for a shake, revealing your name. Law hesitated for a moment before reaching out. His hand enveloped yours for just a moment, then phased right through.

You nervously laughed again, retracting your hand at the failed handshake. "Ah, I'm sorry about that. I don't know why I thought that would work."

"But you were able to slam that cabinet just fine earlier?" Law questioned.

"Will you kill me if I say I'm not sure why?" you replied sheepishly.

"How would I kill you when you're practically dead?" Law retorted, his deadpan delivery drawing a smile from you. 

“Not dead, just cursed.” you correct him. “I don’t see much of a difference.” 

Your laughter filled the building, a sound that seemed out of place, but it certainly felt good. It was the first time in a long long while since you genuinely laughed and had fun. Law didn’t seem to share your amusement, though. He eyed you with a raised eyebrow. As your laughter dissipated into chuckles, you felt a warmth inside of you.

“Laughing, huh? You sure you’re not trying to trick me?” Law asked, still seemingly skeptical about this whole situation.

Your smile quickly turned into a frown at his doubts. “What? No, I just…” you start but trail off, seemingly unable to form any words.

An awkward pause fell between the two of you. He just couldn’t understand your predicament. Law is the first to break the silence. “Maybe it’s time for you to get out of here and try and find a way to get back to your old self.”

“You don’t get it,” you said quietly, your voice filled with despair. “I can’t just do that. I’ve tried, trust me. For years I’ve tried, but I'm tied to this life.” For a moment, Law's doubts faded as he saw the desperation in your eyes, and he decided to give you a chance. He walked over to the nearest wall and sat on the floor, leaning against it. He saw your confusion and he gestured to the floor in front of him, nonchalantly saying, “I have a feeling that you have quite the story to tell me, so go on.

- - -

As the night deepened, the two of you found yourselves engaged in an unexpectedly long conversation. You opened up more about your predicament, telling Law every detail you could about the curse, telling him about your human life, your past, and even your fears. He opened up to you as well. You learned that he was the captain of a crew, that he was a former warlord, and he even showed you his tattoos.

The light of the moon filtered through the dusty windows, and the conversation flowed into more lighthearted topics. You learned that you had much more in common with him than you originally had thought. You even learned about some of his quirks such as his distaste for bread. 

As the first rays of sunlight slowly started to replace the moonlight, you two found yourselves in an odd state of comfort. The two of you talked throughout the night and not once have you run out of things to say. 

“I’ll help you break the curse,” Law declared, his words causing a momentary pause in your thoughts. Your eyes widened in disbelief and gratitude. Unable to contain yourself, you impulsively find yourself throwing yourself at Law, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

The world stood still as you held the hug, and Law could only widen his eyes in shock at the feeling of the touch. Then the realization hit you– your arms were wrapped around him. You were actually hugging him. Embarrassment soon washed over you as you became aware of the awkwardness of the situation. You pulled away abruptly, your features emanating embarrassment, and you cleared your throat. 

A pause fell over the two of you as both of you tried to grapple with the reality of the uncharted territory of physical contact. “Uh, sorry about that,” you mumbled sheepishly.

Law nodded in understanding, though he still seemed taken aback. “No harm done, right? Let’s focus on breaking that curse.” He looked out of the window as he finished his sentence and his voice filled with urgency as he realized the time. “I have to go now,” he explained, regret in his voice. “But, I’ll be back tonight. I will help you figure this out.” Through the sudden disappointment, you nodded in understanding. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Law nodded at you before making his exit. He left you alone, and the quietness that you were oh so familiar with. You eagerly awaited his return, and as the night came about, you stared out the windows looking for any sign of him, but to no avail. You occupied your mind with feeble excuses, convincing yourself that he might just be running late and that he will come for you. But as the night turned into days, that wait stretched agonizingly long and uncertain. 

Morning after morning, you wandered the island, hoping to find some sign of Law, just to be filled with a growing sense of abandonment instead.  You questioned every bit of Law’s promise, wondering if you had just gone insane and made up that conversation to make yourself feel a little less lonely. The desolation you felt before was nothing to this new crushing weight of shattered hope.

The loneliness settled in, and with every sunset that passed, your hope vanished further. That is, until you were searching the island for him, and you saw fresh wanted posters plastered across the walls. There he was. Law’s face was among them. The realization that he was not even around anymore hit you like a truck. He went off to do other better things rather than fulfilling some stupid promise with someone he just met. The memory of your interaction replayed in your mind, the hug lingering in your mind more than you’d like to admit.

In a moment of frustration and despair, you tore the wanted poster off the wall, startling those who were nearby. Tears flowed freely as Law's absence filled you with despair. His presence had filled a hole you hadn't even realized existed, and now that he was gone, that hole seemed even bigger than before. Now you were left with the dreaded thought that you may never truly break this curse.

[eunnieboo]

IYHM ask replies (thank you!!!)

❤️ Anonymous asked:

hey there just wanted to ask about your book, is there a way of purchase that benefits you most?

hello! this is so thoughtful omg, thank you so much for asking. preordering the book at all is a huge help! more preorders mean there’s a better chance more retailers will want to stock the book, and also lets the publisher know that my work (and hopefully, this kind of story) is something readers are interested in.

i don’t think there’s a specific method of purchase that would benefit me particularly, but i do think this is a lovely opportunity to support an independent bookstore by preordering through them! or if you don’t have the means, requesting it from your local library is always an option.

but again - preordering the book, no matter where or how, means so much. barnes & noble is currently having a 25% off all preorders sale until the 27th, if that interests anybody! i’ve been trying to read more prose novels so i may peruse their collection myself. happy reading!

❤️ u-u-h asked:

Do you know which retailer gives you the largest percentage of the purchase?

i believe it’s all the same! i think the main difference in terms of sales is that hardcovers have a higher return - but i’m not hung up about that, so please get the format you prefer! i will actually not begin to get royalties until a certain number of copies have been sold (i don’t know if “earning out” is a concept exclusive to publishing but i’m happy to talk about that another time), and that’s something out of my control so i can only hope the book does well.

all that is to say, no need to worry about the place of purchase! but i’m so touched by this question. thank you! 🥺

❤️ Anonymous asked:

will there be a chance to pre-order a signed copy of your graphic novel?

my cousin adores your artwork and while i was already going to order a copy for her, i was wondering if ordering a signed version would be possible in the future to order 2 copies; the non-signed for myself and the signed for her. (instead of what i planned which was reading the copy i ordered for her after she read it lol)

omg that’s so sweet of you! HMM ok i looked into this, and i think this is something that can be coordinated with a local bookstore? i think i’d have to come in to sign their stock, and then those signed books could be shipped out. i’ll look into it more but that’s the impression i’m getting!

❤️ ecurps asked:

Congrats on getting published! =D

❤️ Anonymous asked:

congrats on finishing the book🎉‼️‼️ i am so happy and excited for you 💗❣️❤️💕❤️💞💗❣️ ive been following your account for quite a while now and im sooo excited to read it i just cant wait ‼️ wishing u a very successful 2023 👍

thank you so much!!! 😭💖💕🌸✨ AHHH i can hardly believe it myself... i’ve been a hot mess since the cover reveal! i’ve worked on the book for so long that having anyone else perceive it is exciting and terrifying at the same time. it’s like i’m releasing a child into the world haha! but i’m so grateful to everyone for the warm response, and for waiting so patiently. i hope i get to keep making stories like this for a long time ❤️

[basil-does-arttt]

hold on wait a second i had a thought

in the DLC prolouge cutscene for DMC 5, when Vergil is in that stone passageway area, he says "its nearly time" (in reference to him splitting himself in half).

We know what day it happens, april 30th. The date is shown in Nero's flashback scene. This is of course assuming Vergil did all that on the same day, which i think is what happened. (He could open a portal to his house to travel, and why would he wait any longer and risk dying first?)

Anyway. Thats not my point, my point is: did he choose to do it on this day on purpose? Is this date special?

Im overanalyzing here so this may be a stretch, but: Could that be the day Eva died? Think about it. Him splitting himself was a "rebirth" of sorts: discarding his humanity to become a full demon in search of ultimate power.

Vergil being stabbed by those demons the day Eva died could also be counted as a kind of rebirthing for him: In the span of a few hours, he lost everything. His family, his life. And maybe even, his full humanity, as he gained his DT form in that moment too (shown by him having the same triggered-style eyes Dante uses when threatening V toward the start, also (half)triggered.) No longer was he a mere human boy, but now half a devil - the things that killed his family - too.

Knowing Vergil, it could make sense. In DMC 3 he's quite proper and a bit sentimental, much more so than Dante and i can see him caring more for these kinds of niche details in his life a lot more than Dante too. I also think he may have still been in that mindset when coming out of the Nelo Angelo body (however that happened), in a way that he hasnt really grown or matured while he was Nelo Angelo due to all the mind-fuckery performed thanks to Mundus.

(Could also be clarification for the reason Vergil still looks so young, quote "because of how much time he's spent in the underworld compared to Dante". He didnt live there, certainly not by choice. But he was captured and tortured by Mundus for 10 years. My thoughts is that he's technically still in his teenage body, as becoming Nelo Angelo and being in the underworld for so long thanks to Mundus halted (or at least very significantly slowed) the aging process. Time could move slower in hell but thats a rant for another time, ive gone off track.)

As such, him choosing such a special (traumatic) date to essential commit suicide on doesnt seem like much of a reach to me. Vergil has always been methodic. He doesn't do things hap-hazardly and never has, even as Nelo Angelo when he invites Dante outside to set up a proper fight rather than just taking the opportunity and attacking in the bedroom.

Of course you can argue it was coincidence, and he just stumbled across Nero by chance and decided to do it right then and there. He had to have found Nero first of all, figured out his plan of attack (probably so he wouldnt draw unwanted attention and possibly be stopped), then actually put it into motion. He couldnt exactly control the date Nero happened to be in the right place at the right time and gave him an opening. Im not trying to convince or anything, just sharing ideas, But wouldn't it just be so in character for april 30th to be a special date for him??

Overall i at least think the reason he chose to do it at the house was intentional for reasons stated above. If it wasnt, then why didn't he just... idk, find an alleyway or something and split himself there?

Those are my thoughts. Id love to hear other people's theories and such on this too.

(EDIT: I REALIZED THE MOMENT HE SPLITS HIMSELF ALSO PROBABLY HAPPENS AT A SPECIFIC TIME AS WELL, NAMELY 6:00 PM.

It mustve taken him some time to get back to the house. Not hours, but not seconds. 15 minutes seems like a good amount of travel time for someone who can teleport using portals alongside a bit of walking. If he got there early he could've just waited too.

A specific date, april 30th, and at (likely) exactly 6:00pm. In VOV while it is black and white, i assume the attack happened late into the evening, since the sky is dark when he gets back to the house a bit later. Idk how he would've known that it was exactly 6:00 but... anyway, Mundus also seems like the type of guy to plan shit, especially an attack like he did to Eva and the twins, if that whole "eva died on april 30th" thing was true.)

[alice-after-dark]

okay wait ive got 2:

1) when people portray vox as a cringefail loserboy whos whipped to heaven and back for either al or val

2) when people act like r*dioapple has more foundation in canon than any other alastor ship

Hello friend!!!

Okay, hard agree on both fronts.

(putting under a cut cause this got long oops)

On the first one, fucking THIS. Vox is flamboyant and theatrical and he definitely has a temper, but everyone seems to forget that he is LITERALLY introduced to us as a manipulator of the masses. Like I adore the press conference scene. This is who Vox is to the rest of Hell. People take him very seriously. When the accelerated extermination is announced, people rush to get his opinion. Fuck, they don't even do that to Charlie, the literal Princess of Hell! Vox has his moments sure, but defining him by the occasional cringe is like defining Charlie by that one instance where she was having her conspiracy board red string moment and losing her damned mind trying to figure out what to do to get her plan to work. That's not who the character is at their core. And Vox is most certainly not whipped. There may have been a time in his life where he was for Alastor, but even if that was the case, that time is long dead. Literally the moment he finds out Alastor is back, he launches an attack. That's not whipped and I don't think he really ever could be. Whatever happened between them clearly caused him a good amount of pain and even if things get better between them, I don't think they'll ever have what they once did. At least not right away. As for Valentino, it's called damage control, not being whipped.

On the second one, not gonna lie, I don't pay all that much attention to R*dioApple (censoring out of courtesy because that's how the ask was sent) so I've never seen this claim, but I totally get why that would be frustrating and kinda bs. I may be a ship-what-you-want-to-ship kind of person, but uh...yeah it's made pretty clear at every opportunity that Alastor and Lucifer don't like each other, so to claim they have the strongest foundation in canon as a ship is a little...yeah, no. Like, I get it, I'm a RadioStatic shipper and there is definitely problems between Vox and Alastor, but we know that they have some kind of history and that they, at minimum, were friends (referencing the photo and Alastor's "old pal" comment"). We know canonically that Lucifer and Alastor met for the first time canonically in episode 5 and Alastor instantly felt threatened and went on the attack. That's not a solid foundation for canon.

Again, if you like R*dioApple , THAT'S TOTALLY FINE! YOU DO YOU! It's not my cup of tea, but that doesn't matter! If you like it, go forth and enjoy! But be realistic. There is nothing wrong with liking something that doesn't have a strong canon basis and you don't need to force one to ship something. Fuck, I do it all the time! My favorite ship in this fandom also currently hate each other! And I love me some good ol' they've-never-even-met-but-fuck-they-would-be-so-interesting. Shipping something purely because you enjoy the potential dynamic is totally legit!

[leonenjoyer69]

Both your OCs occupy space in my mind lol I love both Harry and Elias. Would you mind giving some more rambles please and thank you? About either one. I just love learning more about them.

VJEKBKDKF TYSM, I'M GLAD YOU LIKE THEM :D it makes me very happy to know that people enjoy my ramblings and art of my lil fellas :3 (also, all you sweet anons are gonna be the death of me with your mysterious identities!)

(SUB NOTE: if anyone ever has any ideas at all or art requests or something for either of my sillies PLEASE don't hesitate to bring them up I would literally love hearing any suggestion or answering any question ever)

Anyways!!! I've actually been waiting to drop a bunch of stuff on these fellas that I've been talking about with some folks on Discord (which y'all can also ask for if you wanna talk to me on there I LOVE TALKING TO YOU GUYS), so thank you for granting me the perfect opportunity >:3 so, without further ado, I shall begin:

First of all, i just wanted to drop my height HCs bc,,,, why not lmao

I can't exactly visualize heights very well in my mind so these may be a wee bit too tall, idk, but yeah! I think giving Hyde an extra half inch would be funny bc you KNOW that mf would just round up lmao. Elias is a bit taller than Hyde, which Hyde kinda hates sometimes, itty bitty fella.

Anyways!! Harry is first up for rambling bc I have less for him rn lmao. I don't remember if ive mentioned it much before on here, but I know I included it in the fic i did for him, and that's his Scottish accent :3 we as a fandom don't write Jekyll's accent enough so I like projecting it onto injured Hyde and now Harry 😌 MORE SCOTTISH JEKYLL PLEASE-

Harry didn't really have to worry about keeping face in the mindscape (except for when around Mind Lanyon, who would pester tf out of him over it) so he fell back to at LEAST having an accent. He partially fell back on it because 1, it made him feel a wee more comfortable, and 2, because of how often he revisited memories from university (specifically during his and Lanyon relationship ofc), so he's used to hearing himself speaking with at least a drawl.

But yeah, that accent kinda sticks with him when he gains control and he has quite a hard time shaking it, which makes for some fun interactions, like when Lanyon's trying to break down his office door :3333

I believe I've mentioned this, but Harry is very very sensitive to most physical sensations (touch, pain, etc.) and has some light and sound sensitivities for a decent bit after gaining control. Because of how long he spent in the mindscape with numbed senses, It really messed with him to suddenly have control again. Eventually he starts getting used to it again, but for the first few days he's practically on the edge of a mental breakdown at every moment. He's also super jumpy from it (and from the ungodly paranoia he got from the mindscape lmao) and is quite firmly "no touch" for about a week (except for when he initiates stuff with Lanyon). Once he gets used to it tho his touch starved ass is a lot more affectionate and such.

One last thing for him! He's also far more sensitive to hunger and thirst sensations/pain, so he tends to take far better care of their body while in control. It took him a short while to get used to eating and drinking again, but he's more than happy to do it, not realizing how much he had missed it. Plus, he's seen how horrible Jekyll and Hyde would take care of themselves, so he certainly doesn't want their neglect to be his downfall. He's also a bit more sensitive to being tired, but can't sleep very well (especially without Lanyon) because of paranoia and nightmares.

OKAY, NOW, onto Elias!! Most all this stuff is from a discord convo that I didn't feel like rewording, so... Sorry if the formatings weird 💀 (questions are indented and italicized, as well as abbreviated)

OKAY SO, For how Henry (or whoever) convinces Elias to switch back:

Elias usually throws some sort of fit when he's initially order to switch back (except for the very rare instances where he's actively wanting to switch back, like when everyone's busy and he starts getting lonely anyways), though most the time he'll simmer down when Henry starts sorta begging or when either Henry or Lanyon (or very occasionally Hyde) lowkey bribe him. Usually Henry (or Hyde) will bribe him with physical touch/affection (hugs, cuddling, kisses, stuff like that), or bonding time, like going out and doing things together and such (or just doing stuff together at the society, like watching Henry do science or doing paperwork 💀). (Also, sometimes Jekyll will just get somewhat impatient and start asking more desperately and the guilt kinda gets to Elias, Henry usually feels bad about it tho) otherwise, Lanyon will bribe him (quite grudgingly, might I add) with more time out, going to the park with Elias in shadow form and talking, or letting him get a gift for Jekyll or Hyde. But yeah, Elias is lowkey like a little affectionate, overactive puppy :3

[...] I misread "letting him get a gift for Jekyll or Hyde" as "letting him get a gift FROM Jekyll or Hyde" and swore for a moment that sometimes Jekyll/Hyde sent gifts to Elias but Lanyon stole them [... ]

LANYON WOULD TOTALLY STEAL ELIAS'S STUFF TO USE AS BARGAINING LEVERAGE 💀 but yes, bribery is the go to, this guy does NOT like being locked away, so when he does it's either out of guilt or he's getting something out of it, hehe

[...] Imagine that since Lanyon is probably taller than elias, he just hides some lf his stuff on higher places so that he cannot reach them, I feel like Elias would annoy the hell out of him so that he stops doing it though (Lanyon puts them back where they where, and when Elias isn't there, he just hides them again) also, I just imagined Jekyll like guilt tripping or manipulating him so that he drinks the potion

Oh he absolutely would, Lanyon would have a whole "confiscated" shelf for it too, and Elias would definitely whine about it with sooo much persistence. AND JFKGKKF YEAH JEKYLL WOULD 😭😭 both out of selfishness and not, since he still hasn't tested how the formula behaves when an alter ego is out for prolonged amounts of time, and sometimes he just wants Robert back.

Jekyll likes Elias, he just has more of a preference for Lanyon. Jekylls probably also got a bit less patience for Elias's whining after dealing with Hyde's for so long lmao, he always feels kinda bad about being mean or anything to Elias tho, since it's kinda his fault that Lanyon split.

Would Lanyon ever like bother Elias with the fact that Jekyll likes him better?? Like maybe, at one point he just gets too tired of him wanting to hang out with Jekyll and says to him that Jekyll just deals with him out of pity, and like Elias then just feeling kinda bad about it and wondering if Jekyll actually likes him??

If Lanyon's feeling especially spiteful and annoyed, probably, but also Elias worries about that enough on his own and bothers Lanyon with all his self deprecating thoughts anyways 💀

How does Hyde feel about Elias?

He's generally guilt free about the whole "splitting Lanyon" thing and /gen likes Elias way more than he likes Lanyon lmao. He still gets that sorta bitter anger and resentment when he looks at Lanyon, but he doesn't get that with Elias. Hyde kinda thinks that Elias is all the best parts of Lanyon (Except for Elias's emotional sensitivity sometimes, but Hyde deals. He feels surprisingly bad when he upsets Elias..) But yeah, Elias is most of the reason why Hyde is complacent enough to actually kinda lay low after messing up Blackfog and stuff, so Jekyll certainly likes Elias for keeping Hyde somewhat in check lmao

And that's everything I have for this!!! Thank you so much for the ask :D

[paingoes]

Crash Out

Nimrod IV

dont try this at home

(Content: death?, immortal whumper, knives, stabbing, blood, explosives, fire)

~

Dark, dark, and darker still. 

She heard a voice distantly. The same one she’d chasing for months. The mark. His Highness.

“God, fucking die already,” he panted.

As if.

The pain was blooming in her chest, trying to shape itself around his blade. All her other sensation flowed out of this. It traveled down through her fingers. She twitched her pinky.

The blade withdrew, then came down again. She fell back into the darkness.

~

12 HOURS EARLIER

Click. Click. Cliiiick. Click click click click. Click.

“You should try it behind your back now,” Lorelai suggested.

Paris undid the manacles again, shimmying the locks on each wrist open. The shackles that Johanna had so carelessly lost possession of were heavy with rust and other people’s blood.

“Alright.” He readjusted in the passenger seat, moving up on one knee to give himself space to maneuver. He slipped the lock picks into his back pocket and clipped the manacles on behind his back. 

Click. Click.

He struggled for a minute. Lorelai watched with mild amusement.

Click click click. Cliiiick. Click!

“Fuck with me,” he said, freeing his wrists. The chains fell away from them, landing hard on the back of his ankle. “Ow.”

He tossed them to the floor of the ship and fell back against the seat. He pulled the map off of the dashboard.

“You decide where you want to go yet?” He asked.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Lorelai hummed, “It has to be somewhere flat, with good sightlines. A planet where there’s nowhere to hide. It should also be somewhere depopulated, so no alarms go off. And obviously, it has to be survivable weather if we’re going to camp out there for a while. No hells. That’s a given.”

Without looking, she tapped at the map.

“This one.”

Something in the way she said it made him blush.

~

They were smoking out by the picnic table the same way they did back in school. The air shifted.

“She’s here.” His eyes widened. His weapon hand moved on its own to the sheath, the off-hand drawn up defensively to his chest. His whole body tensed up in anticipation of attack.

“You’re sure?” Lorelai looked around too. She gasped.

Johanna stood unmoving, half hidden behind the tree. Her eyes were blank. She stood there as if she’d been there for hours, long before they arrived. But that was impossible. She was looking at them, maybe, but it was hard to tell. She didn’t seem to care whether she was seen or not. She was almost invisible in the shade.

She turned and ran.

God fucking damn it.

“That wasn’t the plan,” Paris said, “She wants us to follow her.”

“I don’t think we’re going to have a better opportunity, though.” Lorelai was already walking after her.

Reluctantly, he pulled the gas can off of the table, following them out into the pines.

~

She was winning. She was always winning. He knew it was a trap. Knowing didn’t help.

They lost track of her early. She moved too fast. He took notice of the way Lorelai looked up, watching the tops of the trees, like she may have been hiding among them. When Johanna had stuck her with the knife, she said, she’d dropped down from a branch to do it.

There was still no sight of her. But for the first time, her ship came into view. It stood alone in the clearing.

He looked around again. Nothing. No sound, no aura. He waited. He realized.

“God fucking damn it,” he said again, shifting the gasoline to the other hand.

“Let’s just do it. You do it. I’ll guard.” Lorelai pulled the gun off the back. She ushered him closer to the dormant ship, standing between him and the rest of the wood.

“Yeah, let’s just mix explosives while we wait for her to come ignite them herself, fuck it,” he grumbled. He was already getting to work though. He had remembered one recipe, at least.

“She wouldn’t blow up her own ship, would she? Probably just wants you close to it.”

Lorelai’s gun didn’t have a scope, but she kept her face level with the barrel like it helped her see the whole world more clearly.

He pressed the styrofoam down into the gasoline.

His hands stopped, abruptly, as he saw her crouched low to the ground, right beneath the ship. 

There was no time to react. The crouch turned into a pounce, immediately, and the knife was at his throat, and he had fucking napalm on his clothes.

He thrashed too much — and the knife got his throat again. She wasn’t trying to kill him. She’d never been trying to kill him. But she was losing her patience lately. They’d both stopped being careful. 

“You’re chinning out,” she gasped.

“I’m not,” he answered, childish, too defensive.

Johanna pulled her fist back. He flinched.

“You are!” 

He was.

Lorelai kicked her in the side of the head. That alone might’ve been enough to kill her, if she was fucking normal. It gave him the opening he needed, though. He drove her own knife into her neck. Johanna stopped moving.

He shoved her limp body back, immediately stripping his jacket off. It was soaked in the chemical. Parts of it had spilled onto his face, his neck, his hands. It burned distantly. He was shaking. 

~

Lorelai took over. Her hands weren’t shaking — and she knew her way around passenger ships more than he did. She knew how to fuck up the batteries on them. It would just take her a second.

All he had to do was guard the body.

He swore she’d gone down too easily that time. Had it actually been a trap? Had she even meant to lure them when she stood and stared like that, when she ran off? Maybe she was actually trying to forfeit this time. 

Her blood soaked into the dirt. What was her problem?

Her finger twitched again. He slammed the blade back down into her heart.

He hoped she couldn’t feel it. No matter who she was, he hoped to fucking god she couldn’t feel it. He knew firsthand what it was like to have the foreign object driven straight into the chest. He did it to her over and over again, every time she moved, drawing more blood than he would’ve thought possible. 

He thought he would be okay if he never saw blood again after this.

He took to sitting beside her body, his fingers pressed up against her wrist, awaiting the faintest pulse before he had to damp it down again.

He swore she was starting to come back from it faster. 

“Lorry, hurry the fuck up!” He yelled.

“I’m trying!”

“Switch with me?” He called hopefully.

“No, no, I almost got it.”

She shifted herself out from beneath the ship, carrying a long, thin piece of metal.

“I got it.” She grinned. She dragged the napalm mixture down to the ship’s guts. “Start running.”

Paris pulled the sword from Johanna’s torso. He backed up into the hill, slowly until Lorelai came back up to join him. Then he moved much, much faster. 

~

They were further than they needed to be for that kind of explosion, but Paris still pulled her down onto the ground to keep the shrapnel away. She watched with eager eyes, some latent appetite for destruction present in her yet. She liked to watch monster truck shows when she was little. This wasn’t that far off.

The first explosion was loud, but not as fiery as  she would’ve hoped. Not as colorful. It was mostly self-contained, traveling up into the ship, tearing it apart.

The secondary explosion was massive — and totally unplanned. She could feel the heat fresh up against her skin. So much light filled the valley. For a minute, everything was soaked in a brilliant red. Far away, she heard an alarm go off.

Paris blinked the gunpowder out of his eyes, laughing a little bit.

“-probably had bombs in the ship already. Fucking psycho-“

Her ears were ringing so badly she had barely heard him. She laughed too. Like she was ten years old, she held her hand up to him. It made them laugh harder. High-five!

[pvlvsdog]

i keep on chekcing this blog to see if uyou've posted a new piece of writing i feel like an addict on withdrawal

Anon, I am scratching at the floors, crawling on the ceiling, gnawing on cement you have no idea what horrors I’ve been fighting hhhh /lh ive lost my limbus account, can’t log back no idea why. I’m waiting for the support to text me back, praying not to get ghosted, I feel like I’m dealing with a high school crush all over again (should I text again? Do I sound desperate? What if I don’t get a message back! /j). I can try to write sth, tbh I did work on a draft since Monday, but I’m kiiinda scared if I indulge myself too much I’m going to be even more disappointed once they inevitably tell me that I have lost my account forever. I have found slight humour in the situation, as in, I’m not telling you this to be like “how dare you ask” or sth. Tbh, I’m really flattered someone likes my writing this much! This is a bit motivating ngl. To be fair the draft I’ve dug up and worked on is… a bit cursed in some parts (mostly Emil’s. Honestly, just his hhhhh) but I might share

A bit of a serious note though. Problem is, it took me so bloody long to get my account to a point where I was genuinely proud of it. Like really proud. And I know if I tried to rebuild it, it wouldn’t be the same and I would have to take… a lot of time. So, I’m super sorry to say this but uh. If this doesn’t work out and I lost it all forever, I’m not sure if I’ll stay in the fandom. Which sucks, I mean, I’ve made so many memories with my group and the game is also a large factor in me and my bestie (haiiii if you’re reading!) growing closer, but i feel like trying again might make me feel worse. I’m not saying goodbye to you all. I might write for a bit. And who knows, maybe the end isn’t all that near. To be honest my mates are very lovely about it, one of the anons you might know from this blog (whom I know irl haha) is currently fighting in the trenches, nursing an account that I could take over if things go bad (ily, if you’re reading this <33). We’ll see how things go. Honestly, this is just divine intervention, I got it snatched before I could meet my WH book crush. The universe knows I’d be too powerful if I was allowed to enjoy and write about my lovely alcoholic wife, Hindley /hj

The main issue is…. I have no idea if I was smart enough to not play on a guest account. Before you judge! I was out having a beer with one of my lads when I downloaded limbus. And I didn’t get motivation till a bit later, also out, when another mate showed me Gregor in a dress. Yeah, bride Greg was genuinely my reason to start playing on the spot, he’s the og wife. If I started playing or made the account at home I would be pretty sure that I linked it to something. Buuuut. Well, first time I was under the influence of alcohol and second under a much stronger influence of a bear in a dress /hj such is life

To end it on a sillier note (bc I know you didn’t ask for my yapping, I saw my opportunity and ran with it), here is my Greg plush, may he brighten your day

[vampryn]

im doing my first cosplay everrrrr 😭

im going to see evil dead the musical and of course, im dressing up as Ash 🥰 its insanely difficult to find a teal dress shirt though.. but i got the pants today! they're not corduroy (shame on me for not being film-accurate), but they have a very 70s vibe and cut like the ones in the movies. all of the chainsaws were sold from spirit halloween when terrifier 3 came out, so im going to bring an axe instead. now i have to decide if im going to distress the outfit, or if im going to wait to get it fucked up in the splatter zone 🤔 i was going to make a chainsaw harness, but since i don't have time to make the whole chainsaw im vito-ing that.

i also got a really sick vintage Santa outfit, so on Christmas im going to dress up as Art the Clown. im excited, i haven't made any props or prosthetics in such a long time. im not sure if im going to get around to making Art's full prosthetics (no access to the resources for foam-latex), but i definitely will be making the skin-beard.

ive also asked my old schoolmate to try to get me back into the FX shop i interned at, im trying to go back to doing actual work instead of slaving away at my shitty retail job. its almost been 10 years, and after a fuckload of therapy, maybe it's time to be brave and try to actually do something that i want to do. doing makeup for free at the haunted house just isn't cutting the mustard in my sad, sad heart-sandwich.

im getting a tattoo today as well! from my friend who has done all of my leg tattoos 😊 im excited, its going to be an evil dead tattoo, and she said she's gonna make it super sick (she's a G anyway– no doubt there).

ontop of all of that, i was offered a really awesome brand opportunity this morning. i don't know if i believe in spirits or guardians, but sometimes it feels like my dad and grandpa's energy are looking after me. i had a really awful week.. a really awful 3 weeks actually, and it feels like maybe things are going to start looking up for me again. i really really hope so.

i was recently put on a medication that seems to be helping me a lot as well, i have barely smoked any weed since i started it. im also considering trying to go to the gym for the first time in my life (im kind of scared lol). im also motivated to make youtube content, which is very nice because ive been in a creative block for the last few months. hopefully i'll be able to maintain this momentum, because i have a really busy few weeks coming up.. id way rather that than being bored and crying in my bed..

THE ONLY WAY OUT, IS UP.

[biff-adventurer]

Spontaneous Roleplay for Dummies OR How to roleplay with random strangers on the internet, no plotting required OR XIV in game roleplay specific & general writing tips

I've been roleplaying for a good long while now and I'm starting to see some issues trending lately. So here is a guide/tips from me, a spontaneous RPer, who has run into a lot of younger or newer RPers without a lot of guidance. Let me have the honor of trying to help. Or at least let me share what I want some people to know.

i) So you go to a venue. The safest way to start RPing with literally anyone in particular is to ask them an opening question. It doesn’t have to be ground-breaking.

Sonny Silvertear: “Hi there! I'm Sonny, what’s your name?” “ Luna Lifebringer: “Hi? My name’s Luna.”

ii) If the stranger doesn’t “yes and” you, move on. People are jerks, and if they judge you, that’s on them. If someone doesn’t respond in fifteen minutes, you’re safe to move on. (People type slow in game, so fifteen minutes feels like the safest number to me. Please work within your comfort zone–it’s a part of creating boundaries and protecting yourself!)

iv) If you’re the stranger sitting around waiting for someone to ask you a question, the polite thing to do is “yes and” them back. Sometimes, this means just saying something that your new roleplay partner can respond to. It doesn’t always have to be a question!

Luna Lifebringer: “Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around.” Sonny Silvertear: “It’s my first time here. Do you come here often?”

Remember: No talk is too small. Small talk can lead to big talk if you continue to “yes and” with your partner. If you take an interest in someone else’s character, the courteous thing is for them to take an interest in yours.

(As an aside, it’s a little narcissistic to wonder why someone took an interest in your character unless they offer the information themselves. If they compliment you, make sure you find something nice and genuine to say back! Most of the time, the safe assumption is that people are just trying to make friends–unless you have good reason to believe otherwise, of course.)

v) “But I play a character who doesn’t talk too much?” Body language is a great way to show emotion for characters who are stoic. If they can’t offer much dialogue, you can help your partner out by sharing your character’s thoughts or assumptions in your prose. It does NOT have to be fancy or complicated.

Luna Lifebringer: “Not really, no.” Luna raised an eyebrow, then turned to her drink. She wasn’t sure why this cheerful stranger was talking to her, but she didn’t mind it. She just didn’t think it made sense to share her prior line of thought–about the adventure she’d just survived, in a dungeon where she pretty much carried the party with the strength of her white magic.

Sonny Silvertear: “You seem to have a lot on your mind. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Luna Lifebringer: “Not really, no.” She smiled weakly at Sonny, but without any malice. She didn’t want him to think she was annoyed. “What about you? Something on your mind?”

Sonny Silvertear: “Not really, no.” He had to laugh. Should he have come up with conversation topics beforehand? He was new at the social thing, which he hadn’t known was part of the adventuring thing until he’d picked up the mantle of sprout.

Luna Lifebringer: Luna Lifebringer laughs, too. “I guess we both came out to enjoy a nice drink.”

Sonny Silvertear: “I really like drinking. But I’m not, like, a drunk!”

vi) “But how do I get out of small talk territory?” This is where you choose to be vulnerable. Contrary to what some people might tell you, it’s alright to share some exposition about your character’s backstory. It just has to seem natural–and the best way to make something seem natural is to find a natural opportunity to share.

Luna Lifebringer: “Well, good. Because I hate drunks, lies and deception. Especially deception.”

Sonny Silvertear: “Anyone who knows a drunk hates drunks.”

Luna Lifebringer: “You, too? I’ll drink to that!”

vii) “But my partner isn’t picking up on my cues.” That happens sometimes. It can happen a lot if your cues aren’t obvious. It can also happen if you run into a lot of people who are either really uninterested, really tired, or just really not perceptive. Those are all not your fault, so you can’t compensate for that. When you find yourself working too hard, it’s okay to drop the RP, either by finding a reason to leave, talking to someone else, or simply ending the conversation.

viii) “What if I’m not getting their cues?” Then it’s perfectly harmless to bring up what you think they’re referring to, or something new entirely, so long as you acknowledge whatever else the person said. Remember that you don’t have to respond to every single line–just what you think is important, either to you or to them. That way, no one feels like they wasted what they wrote.

Sonny Silvertear: “Yeah, me, too. My dad.”

Luna Lifebringer: “That sucks.”

Sonny Silvertear: “Yeah. My dad sucked.”

Luna Lifebringer: “Mine did, too. Is there a rule somewhere that says dads have to suck?”

Sonny Silvertear: “I think that’s part of why everyone hates drunks. Because they make terrible fathers.”

ix) Don’t write more than you need to. An easy way to lose your partner’s attention or try their patience is making them read a small novel, only to find out the last two lines are all they need to read to reply. That doesn’t mean you can’t share lovely details about your characters; it just means you need to choose those details wisely. For example, if there’s something about your character that we can’t see on the model, like freckles under a scar or a third color of hair on their head, bring it up if it seems relevant. Just ask yourself why it’s relevant and why you want your new partner to know about it.

Luna Lifebringer: She laughed. It was bubbly, but there was a sadness hiding amid the bubbles somewhere. “More women need to not sleep with drunk dudes.”

Sonny Silvertear: He nodded once, firmly. His smile reached his eyes, though the light in them was gone. He looked at his hands. Without gloves to hide the scars, it was easy to see how rough they were. “It would save everyone a lot of stress, time and work.”

x) Use the right words. It’s hard to figure out what the right words are, but sometimes, that’s because they’re simple. And sometimes it’s because they’re not. Really, the key is to make sure the word means what you think it means. The thesaurus doesn’t give you words that are exactly interchangeable; it gives you words that can mean the same things, in a general sense, but mean something specific when you look closer.

Old: Luna looked around the bar. She was by herself, but she was waiting for someone, so she didn’t feel like a total loser. She just needed to be patient. She smiled at the bartender and took her drink, then looked around some more for the right seat. (Grade: C)

New: Luna looked around the bar. She felt self-conscious, but reminded herself that she was waiting for someone. When the bartender handed her the drink she ordered, she smiled graciously. Then, she looked for a place to sit. (Grade: B)

Don’t ask me how to get an A, starters are hard. Making yourself look known and available, and giving people an insight to where your character is mentally, is a good start. Frankly, I’d just sit my character somewhere before I made a starter but I wanted to try something new. I don’t think it worked. But the point is, the words are better. They’re more varied and less soulless. But sometimes soulless gets you through the day, so don’t judge yourself too hard.

xi) When writing a character from a specific place, try to use in-game dialogue to influence the depiction of your character’s ethnic background or childhood experiences. There are a lot of NPCs in the game and a lot of MSQ dialogue by people from different places on the Star. So, if you start RPing a character of a different background than yours, the best starting point is the source material. Although the source has its own problems, it’s also the text we share. Identifying the problems in the material is more like the second or third step in character building; but it’s unlikely folks will be angry with you for drawing from the source. However, do try to research the places in game and their real world counterparts to get a sense of where your character should be. It helps add depth and it helps you learn about the world, too! Creating, writing and researching for non-Western characters is its own large topic; this is just a good starting point, in my experience.

xii) In Conclusion: show people you care to know about other people’s characters. Focus on what they need to know about yours in the moment. Artistry can follow once you have the meat down in place. Don’t commit so much to aesthetic that you lose the ability to build relationships with other people. When you take an interest in those around you, the world really opens up. And isn’t that what being an adventurer is all about?