#just one more thing in the continuous pursuit of Bettering My Life....

[orcelito]

Realizing my chronic focus headaches are likely tied to eye strain, so I am trying out a few techniques to hopefully make things better. Increasing the size of the text on my phone (which makes me feel like a grandpa, but oh well) & holding the phone farther away from my face. Also this thing recommended a 20-20-20 tactic - every 20 minutes, focus on something 20 feet away for at least 20 seconds. The focus headaches are helped by sleep, but since I'm going to be going back to school soon, I need to be able to focus for extended periods of time without naps. This time will be different, which means learning how to manage my focus headaches when they happen, rather than just giving up on assignments in favor of going to sleep.

I also scheduled an appointment with an optometrist, since I'm probably due for new glasses. I don't like to wear my current ones, and I haven't since I first got them back in 2018, but they're almost definitely out of date by now. Maybe I can get new glasses that won't mess with my eyes when I wear them. It'd make driving easier, so hopefully I won't hate my fuckin life when I am driving. Who knows, maybe I'd even try to keep up with wearing them more often. I can only hope.

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Strawberry Fields Forever

Blurb: You go on a picnic date with some friends, not expecting to rile Eddie up.

Pairing: Perv!Eddie Munson x Friendly!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ This is basically smut with a tiny bit of plot, cursing/swearing, some light mentions of alcohol, corruption kink, praising, exhibitionism, oral (f & m receiving), oral fixation, choking, fingering, teasing.

-

The sun flushed the earth with an unwavering heatwave and everyone in Hawkins was struggling to keep cool during this scorcher of a summer. There was no hiding from it. The humidity even penetrated the shade- no where was safe.

Naturally you seek out the forest, travelling along a trail with Steve, Nancy, Robin, Eddie and some of the younger bunch who had begged to come alone. They wanted to go swimming in Lover’s Lake and you wanted to have a picnic next to the water.

“Fuck me,” Eddie groans, dragging his feet behind you, “Can’t we just stay in here? It must be hotter than Hell out there.” In a huff, Eddie shrugs off his denim jacket, exposing his tatted arms as he slings the coat over his shoulder. He wore a black t-shirt, of all colours he chose black, no wonder he was melting into a puddle.

Steve wipes at his sweaty forehead with his forearm, his long mousy brown hair sticking to his sun kissed skin, “Eddie has a point, I’m sweating my balls off here.” Nancy snorts a laugh, her fingers interlocked around Steve’s bicep.

Robin marches in front of you, on a mission to try and keep up with the others children whom had snuck off into the distance, squealing and revelling in the great outdoors. Robin evidently being fearful that they were going to run off or worse- disappear.

“C’mon guys, it’s not so bad! Maybe you should have worn more appropriate clothes,” Your dig is aimed at Eddie and he rolls his eyes, panting in response. He is clearly hating how his hair seems to be gluing itself to his neck.

“I’ll take my shirt off if you pay me,” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, his lips baring a wolfish grin, “This ain’t a free show, sweetheart.” He fans at his face, his flirtatious attempt quickly evaporating with his rising body temperature.

You take a hair tie from your wrist, handing it to Eddie, “You’ll be a lot cooler if you tie up that nest of yours.”

He gapes at you, offended, “Wow…” he drags out the word, “And here I was thinking that we were finally getting along.” You giggle at him before continuing your pursuit further, trying to catch up with the two love birds who had somehow overtaken you.

“It’s not long now, only a little further.” You call back to Eddie who is slugging behind you. Usually Eddie loved being outdoors, but in this heat? He would rather be dead.

The only thing keeping Eddie alive at the moment was the view he had of you from behind. Your ass is clad in the cutest pair of light denim shorts he had ever seen, hugging your thighs and body perfectly. You wore a red checkered blouse on top that slipped effortlessly from your shoulders, exposing the mounds of your breasts to him every so often. He was already fighting for his life against an erection.

So when the pale yellow and pink picnic blanket was set down onto the unnervingly fried grass and Eddie watched you unload the weaved basket he couldn’t help but notice when your eyes light up at the sight of a massive bowl of strawberries.

“My favourite!” You squeal happily, flashing the bowl to Eddie he chuckles heartily, his legs crossing over one another as he lays back, propped up on one elbow.

“Strawbs are good, I guess.” His shoulders shrug.

“You guess? They are the superior fruit, Ed’s!” This was a debate you were willing to fight until your dying breath. You would die on this hill.

Eddie plucks one from the bowl, examining the red fruit before he pushes the whole thing into his mouth, taking a moment to chew before swallowing.

“Y’know, I’ve always thought strawberries were much better with a little bit of cream…” Eddie’s tongue dances out onto his lips, licking them clean of any juices that may have escaped.

He doesn’t mean for it to sound so dirty, but when you don’t register it that way Eddie sees this as an opportunity; to make this into a fun little game where he is a perverted fuck and you are absolutely oblivious to it all.

“Hmm,” you hum in response, not batting an eyelash to Eddie’s cream comment as you push a strawberry between your lips, biting on the pointed end of it softly- savouring the flavour.

Glancing around you see nearby on the blanket Steve has his tongue wedged down Nancy’s throat. She’s nearly choking on it as they sloppily dish out kisses. Talk about no shame..

Robin is on life guard duty- or so she says. In reality, she just wants to do cannonballs into the water with the kids, splashing them and fighting with them. Jokingly pushing Dustin’s head beneath the water whilst Mike tries to do the same to Will.

Dustin emerges, crying attempted murder and you laugh hysterically, shaking your head proudly at their free spirits.

“Are you thinking of going in the water?” You flick your attention back to Eddie and he can’t help himself from staring as you wrap your lips coyly around a massive strawberry. Your eyes peeking innocently up at him has his cock threatening to burst in his jeans and the thought of the strawberry being replaced by his thick manhood leaves him feeling dizzy.

“Possibly,” he gulps, his crossed legs becoming more tightly acquainted, “You?” He cracks open a can of beer, taking a light swing to cleanse his drying throat.

You nod, looking between the lake and Eddie, “I might- it looks like they are having so much fun.” You sigh, feeling the most relaxed you have a in a while. It’s not as hot anymore now that you have sat down.

“You should.”

‘Please!’ Eddie thinks to himself. He doesn’t know why, but you have him totally bewitched. His hungry gaze never leaving your mouth as dark pink juice stains your lips. You slurp to try and prevent it from spilling all over you, the pad of your thumb swiping quickly at the leaky corners of your mouth.

Eddie thinks he might combust into flames right there and then, biting his tongue harshly to try and keep a groan lodged in his throat- can he taste blood?

“Do I have something on my face Ed’s?” You ask after feeling his eyes on you for a prolonged period of time, your fingers tips tracing your cheeks gently.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, love. Not a single drop touched your chin.” His voice is low, nearly a growl as it leaves his mouth.

From his side Eddie can sense Steve’s amused smirk on him. You might have been unknowing to Eddie’s game, but Steve knew exactly what the ‘freak’ was up to. It relieved him to see Eddie finally trying to shoot his shot with you- it had only taken him a year and a half.

“You would tell me, right?” You giggle, scooting closer to his lanky frame, “Promise?”

“Promise.” He tucks a rogue strand of your hair behind your ear and heat unrelated to the sun prickles at your cheeks, causing you to advert your gaze.

Eddie almost coos aloud at how adorable you are. He can guess that you’ll taste even more sugary than the fruit you’re sucking on, “Can I…” He picks up another strawberry, bringing it to your mouth. You hold eye contact with him as he swirls the tip of the fruit across the plumpness of your lips, allowing the lowest groan to emit from his throat.

“Open wider,” His demand comes out as a bark and you slacken your jaw, your mouth gaping open wider for him to slot the strawberry inside. Eddie’s own jaw laid slack, his soft eyes on you unabashedly, “Does it taste good, princess?”

You nod, your tongue slick with juice from the strawberry. It wasn’t foreign for Eddie to call you sweet pet names, but something inside of you stirs at his voice. Sure you thought Eddie was attractive, often times you’d fantasies over him… but it hadn’t ever gotten this intense in real life.

You’d take every compliment from him with a grain of salt, but with the way his darkened eyes are staring at you now, it leads you to believe that something may be upon the horizon.

gif by @kwistowee

“What’d you say?” Eddie’s eyebrows knit together, his eyelids narrowing at you distastefully.

“Uhm…” it takes a moment for the gears inside of your head to turn, “Thank you?” It is more of a question rather than a response, luckily Eddie seems satisfied nonetheless.

“Exactly,” He grins at you dirtily, “Don’t go forgetting your manners now, babe. I know you’re a good girl.”

An inaudible sound leaves your windpipe as you try to contain the feverish blush that has claimed your face as its own. Your heart is quick inside of your chest and you can’t ignore the fluttering of your stomach and the pulse between your thighs. No one had ever made you feel like this before. No one was crazy enough to speak this filthy to you in person. So blatant and forward.

Just before Eddie can say anything more, water hits you both. So lost in your own world you had forgotten about your friends who you had came here with.

“Are you guys just going to sit there or what?!” Robin exclaims in a high pitched tone, visibly vexed at your unwillingness to join in.

Steve and Nancy were stripping down to their underwear, something that didn’t phase you in the slightest. You look to Eddie for some sort of guidance and he shrugs his shoulders, leaving the choice to you.

“I’m happy here! Sorry- love you though!” You announce loudly and Robin rolls her eyes, shouting back that she loved you too before she was swimming off. It seemed like the group were venturing further down stream, leaving you and Eddie totally invisible to them.

“Good choice,” He purrs into your ear, making you jump slightly startled at his close proximity.

“I don’t mind spending time alone with you, Eddie.” You reply honestly and Eddie toys with a piece of your hair in his fingers, twirling and twisting it.

He hums, intrigued, “Is that so?” Eddie knew he was pushing you, but fuck, was it fun.

You suck on your bottom lip, teeth nibbling at the skin as you nod your head, “You make me feel.. happy.” The words come out as a low mumble, your finger tips playing with the hem of your shorts as you try to busy your nervous hands.

Eddie rumbles a chuckle, “I know a few other ways to make you feel ‘happy’…” You are desperate to avoid his cocoa coloured orbs, but Eddie isn’t having none of it as he gasps your chin sternly with his fingers, pulling your face to him.

“H..how so?” You wish the ground would swallow you whole as you stumble pathetically over your words. He hadn’t even touched you intimately and yet, you can’t think straight.

From your chin, Eddie’s fingers tickle down the front of your throat, hesitating there he decided to take a leisurely second to curl his strong fingers around your trachea. The momentary loss of oxygen makes your eyelids fall to hood your eyes, “Fuck, I could ruin you.” The whole time Eddie continues to gawk at the partition of your lips, and how relaxed you look beneath his touch.

Releasing you slowly he continues his assault on your hot skin, his feathery touch causing goosebumps to erupt after their wake. He palms your breasts through your blouse, grabbing a fist full of the plush flesh which causes you to cry out quietly, “No bra? Such a little fucking tease.” Eddie clicks his tongue, pinching your coiled nipples and roughly plucking at the stiff peaks with his fingertips.

“Ah...” you mewl and Eddie’s ears perk at the sound, like a puppy being called on for the first time.

“Has anyone ever touched you like this before?” His raspy voice asks as his lips pepper a kiss to your exposed shoulder, his tongue running briefly over the skin just because he wanted to taste you. You shake your head, in total awe of him and everything that he is.

“Poor baby,” He pouts out his bottom lip mockingly before his lips stretch into a lascivious grin, “I can take care of you.” His tongue flicks at the lobe of your ear before he is pulling the flesh in between his teeth, gnawing on it playfully.

“But we’re outside…” you remind him, your eyes focusing on the slow current of the water. The sun beating down onto it, making it glisten and glitter in a heavenly way.

“Mhm, we are,” He sucks at your neck, your body jolting ever so slightly at the electricity that zaps at your cunt from the contact, “She likes that, doesn’t she.” Eddie laughs breathily as he pulls back from your jugular, situating himself between your bare legs.

“I bet your pussy tastes so fucking good.” Eddie nuzzles his nose into the soft skin of your inner thigh, causing you to giggle at the ticklish touch of his hair.

“What if someone sees us?” A look over Eddie’s shoulder confirms that the group are way too occupied with one another to even focus on you two.

“They won’t.” His voice drips with confidence and his fingers move with deliberate precision as he rips your denim shorts from your legs, taking a pause to truly admire your underwear, and the darkened wet spot that had the material slick to your pussy lips, “These are cute, baby. You always wear such pretty panties?” He perks an eyebrow whilst his fingertips dance over the lacey fabric and you look at him with wide doe like eyes, stunned by the question and his touch. You hadn’t really thought about it.

“They are just my regulars…” you admit bashfully in a hushed tone and Eddie’s husky groan declares that he really likes that answer.

“Need you so bad,” His fingers hastily hook around the thin elastic of your waistband, “Can I?” Even when he is too horny to think straight, he remains a gentleman.

Feeling just as needy, you nod, and without a beat Eddie is yanking your panties all the wall down your legs, taking them off and shoving them into his jeans pocket.

His large hands catch behind your knees, hoisting your legs up so they sit comfortably on his shoulders. He wastes no time in bringing his mouth to your mound, his tongue frantic as he laps at your soaked core, “Mmm so fucking sweet.” He mutters, his voice dripping with possessiveness. Each caressing touch of his tongue driving you insane as you wrestle to keep yourself quiet.

Your whimpers send Eddie spiralling, awakening something primal within him. He wanted to watch you whither and crumble beneath his touch- he wanted to make you his.

Eddie moans into your dripping cunt, totally self indulging in the very taste of you. Your scent was now his favourite perfume and he wanted it to be seared into his memory forever.

“Oh god…” you pant, your eyes tearful as you look down at Eddie lapping messily between your thighs. You want nothing more than to scream his name at the top of your lungs, but instead you had to settle for silence.

Just when you thought you had mastered the art of biting your tongue, you feel a prodding at your entrance and then a gaping stretch as Eddie pushes two of his fingers deep inside of you, eliciting a grumbly moan from your throat, “You’re so responsive, such a good girl for me.”

The feeling of his long fingers pumping in and out of your sopping wet pussy leaves your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your mouth hanging open when he curls his digits inside of you, massaging that sweet spongy spot.

Eddie has to pry his own lips away from your core, his addiction to you worsening with each passing second, “You’re gushing baby, think you could handle three?”

The noise of your own arousal hits your ears like a symphony and you swear you have never felt pleasure like this before. Even when masturbating, it didn’t compare, “Ed’s.. please..” your voice is a pathetic whine and Eddie smirks at the way your eyes have blown in total submission to him. You’re just as drunk on him as he is on you.

You’re a babbling mess for him and Eddie is contemplating whether or not this is reality or just a really fucking good dream that he’s having, “That’s it, baby, fuck my fingers.” Your hips buck upward to meet each thrust of Eddie’s fingers and you nearly cry out- seconds away from blowing your little operation but thankfully Eddie manages to clutch his hand harshly over your mouth, “Shhh!” He warns with a smile as your eyes glaze over with pure lust. A tightness brews in your lower stomach, a blissful burn that you chase and chase and the next thing you know you’re a shaking mess, your thighs pressed firmly together entrapping Eddie’s hand inside of you as you cum- hard, screaming into Eddie’s palm.

“Clever girl, taking my fingers so well, darling.” Eddie winks down at you, his lips punctured by his two front teeth as he forces his arousal dripping fingers into your mouth, the pads of his fingers exploring the length of your tongue, “You taste so good, don’t you baby?” You moan around his digits, still fleeting from your release.

“I would love to see those perfect lips of yours wrapped around my cock… you wanna do that, sweet girl?” He palms himself over his jeans, so rock solid that any touch to his cock nearly causes him to burst at the seams, “C’mere.” Eddie is gentle as he takes a hold of your elbows, pulling you in for a quick but heated kiss before he sits you propped up on your knees.

“Lookin’ all pretty, just for me.” You are so gone, your head is in the clouds- mind filled with Eddie, Eddie and more Eddie, “Open up, sweetheart.” Eddie’s fingers glide through your hair, clutching the delicate strands at the root in a domineering grip. You shouldn’t like the pain, but you do.

Obediently you listen to Eddie’s deep voice and you open your mouth nice and wide, sticking out your tongue flatly to allow Eddie’s length to sit comfortably on the muscle, “Shit, princess, have you done this before?” He blurts, the question being rhetorical as a rapacious smile appears on his face as he forces his cock further into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag slightly.

“You can take it, right?” He punctuates his question with a thrust, tears swelling in your eyes as you struggle to breathe. Your nostrils flare, desperate for air as Eddie menacingly fucks your throat, “Just as I imagined.” He beams, balls deep in your mouth as you peer up at him, your nose tickled by his small snail trail leading to his belly button.

“Keep looking at me,” He asserted, his lips parted in astonishment at the image of you in front of him- so picture perfect, he wanted to carry it around in his wallet. You hollow your cheeks, drool pooling from your open mouth and dripping shamelessly down your chin. You can feel the wetness of your own saliva soaking the skin of your thighs, “That’s it, princess, eyes on me.”

“Shhh… I know it’s a lot, don’t cry.” His large thumb wipes your tear streaked cheeks, his eyes swirling with adoration and sin, “I’m so close baby, keep goin’ please.” And you do. Anything to have Eddie be pleased with you. To hear him call you a good girl. His good girl.

Your cheeks ache as your face bobs up and down his length, your chin pressing against his sack every time you meet his base. His hand is tangled messily in your hair now, fucking against your own movements.

A pleasure filled wail leaves Eddie’s mouth, his head thrown back in euphoria as his cum shoots far into your mouth, leaking down your oesophagus.

You both stay that way for a moment afterwards, Eddie’s hips rutting gently against your tongue as he allows his high to subside.

“You okay?” He muses, checking your features for any sort of discomfort or sadness.

“Yeah,” you reply, a happiness apparent in your cheerful voice, “Thank you.”

He starts himself up and pulling his jeans securely back around his waist, however it takes him mere seconds before he turns his attention to you. Dropping to his knees he grabs some napkins from your picnic basket, gliding the soft paper tissue over your swollen mouth, “You look so beautiful right now.” He chirps, landing a kiss to your forehead before continuing to clean you up. His touch is tender as he helps you shimmy your denim shorts back onto your hips, his lips littering kisses up your bare legs as he did which causes you to giggle. The moment feels light and airy and you can tell that this is the beginning of something really special.

Without a second to spare, the group approach shore. You are met with raised eyebrows and confusion at your flushed appearance and messy hair.

“So,” Steve interjects with a catty smirk, “What’d we miss?”

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers

[khuzena]

Elegy of the hopeless, a savior’s love

Pairing: Sunday & You (g/n)

Synopsis: There will come a day when you will have to choose between fleeting love and lifelong devotion. There was a clear gap between you two. Sunday, the former head of the Family in Penacony, an outcast. You, some nobody who aims to make it big someday, just a nobody. Both outcasts, both commoners. However, Sunday will always be the savior of the people, a man who devotes himself for the freedom and peace of mankind. And you? Someone who’s story is meant to take a different road.

C.w: Angst, trauma, happy ending, he needs therapy, I change my mind you both need therapy

Note: This was written 23 minutes before the release date of 2.7, there may not be any accuracies since I want to write this fanfic as a tribute for Sunday to guarantee a higher chance of getting him with my sad 89 pulls. Thanks.

Sunday was a man who once prided himself for being righteous.

However, the said Halovian was no longer a priest, no longer the decorated head of the Family. Despite this, not once had he abandoned his values, not once had he forsaken the dream he once dreamed as a child, to sing odes of hope and to bring salvation to those who maybe or maybe not worthy of paradise.

He who walks the path of the nameless, will one day make a name for himself. He will carve his own place in paradise, even if the world no longer deems him as a prophet.

Yet, he hadn’t expected falling for someone. Someone of your stature.

Before you both knew it, your affections for each other grew, and so was his devotion for you. But he had to choose between his goals and you.

His mind was riddled with memories that continue to haunt him. The piano keys carried the weight of his sins the more he played a low tune. A debut between who he was, and who he is.

That fateful day marked the day his faith was tested.

One, two, three.

The notes reverberated softly in the dimly lit room, his fingers brushing over the keys with a precision honed by years of practice. But each sound struck a chord in his mind, dragging him back to memories he’d rather bury. He couldn’t ignore how the melody warped, pulling him into the shadows of his past. The rise to power, the unrelenting pursuit of his dreams, the countless lives he’d affected—knowingly or not. The moments where he trapped innocent people in his grand vision, their lives twisted into threads of a tapestry only he could see.

He felt the weight of it all pressing on him, a phantom force tightening around his chest. Each note seemed to mock him, whispering accusations he couldn’t escape.

Then, there was you.

Some idiot from the Astral Express, bright-eyed and reckless, who somehow wormed your way into his life. You were no better than the Trailblazer—maybe even worse, an enabler of chaos and bad decisions. Yet you carried a dream so simple, so pure it made him envious: to travel the universe, collect stories, and one day become a writer whose words would immortalize the memories you crafted with your own hands.

Envy. Was that the right word?

How could he envy you?

You brought him peace, a sense of belonging he hadn’t felt in years. Piece by piece, you shattered the walls he had meticulously built around his heart. At first, it was the small things: teasing jabs, lighthearted jokes that made him bristle, then laugh despite himself. But before he realized it, you had become something far greater. He longed for you, craved your presence like a man starved of affection.

Sunday, who had never known love, yearned for something he could barely understand. He wanted your arms around him, grounding him under a sky filled with stars, your voice whispering that everything would be okay. That he would be okay. That he was more than the sum of his sins.

But the past never let him rest.

The piano’s melody faltered as memories clawed at him. The faces of those he’d hurt flashed before his eyes: expressions of fear, betrayal, and pain. He saw himself standing above them all, a figure of absolute power yet utterly alone. His hands, now gloved, trembled as he remembered what they’d done—what they’d created, what they’d destroyed.

“Sunday?”

Your voice broke through the haze, shattering the storm of his thoughts. He glanced up, startled, to see your concerned face. There was no hatred in your eyes, no judgment—only that familiar warmth that felt so foreign to him.

“You’re thinking too much again. What’s on your mind?”

He wanted to tell you. He wanted to lay bare every ugly, broken part of himself. But the words caught in his throat. What if you saw him as the monster he believed himself to be? What if your kindness was a fragile mask, hiding resentment and disgust?

“I’m just thinking,” he lied, the words barely audible.

You didn’t believe him. With a small shake of your head, you slipped onto the bench beside him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Everything,” he admitted after a long pause, his voice laced with exhaustion.

The truth spilled from him in that single word: his fall from grace, the haunting memory of his sister’s absence, the crushing weight of his failures. He was at war—with himself, for you. He couldn’t save you from the wreckage of his mind, but he also couldn’t bear the thought of pushing you away.

“You should go to bed,” you murmured gently. “We’re dropping off at Amphoreus tomorrow.”

He didn’t move, his hands returning to the piano. The melody that filled the room was softer now, almost mournful. Each note resonated with the echoes of his guilt, yet drowned them out just enough for him to keep playing.

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop thinking.”

He wished he could.

Another kiss, then another.

“Just play the piano,” you whispered. “I’m still here.”

The tears threatened again, hot and stinging, but he swallowed them down. He didn’t deserve to cry—not for himself, not for his sins. Instead, he focused on the weight of your head on his shoulder, the steady rhythm of your breathing.

“Play your favorite song,” you suggested, your voice a soft murmur. “It’ll help.”

For a moment, his hands hovered over the keys. Then, slowly, he began to play. The melody was one he and Robin had composed as children—back when the world was simple, their dreams untouched by the cruelty of reality. The tune carried a bittersweet nostalgia, weaving through the room like a ghost of their innocence.

He glanced at you as he played. Your eyes sparkled with wonder, watching him like he was worth something more than his mistakes. At that moment, he almost believed it.

“I’m listening,” you said softly, your voice fading as you drifted into sleep.

His shoulders still bore the weight of his past, but with you resting against him, it felt a little lighter. The melody shifted, becoming softer, gentler. One day, he thought, he would compose something even more beautiful—something worthy of you.

Until then, he would keep playing. For you. For himself. For the chance to heal, note by note.

Maybe one day, he could repay your kindness a hundred times over.

Note: very rushed ig bc I started at 10:37 am and ended at 11:59 am bc I wanted to write this as tribute for the 2.7 update. !!! I don't know but jf there's any errors let me know lol my keyboard was so loud going TACK TACK TACKKK

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 

[pondanimal]

hi im sick and the fever is cooking my braincells so here's some insane mclennon analysis from the infirmed:

they're doomed yaoi to me because their natures made it impossible for them to be together. paul's number 1 driving force is his pursuit of "success." he needed to meet every societal milestone to feel successful, having a wife and kids was important to him for that projection of success (among other reasons I'm sure, but this was one he couldn't ever get from john). paul undoubtedly loved john and reciprocated in some capacity. i say this with confidence because while john is naturally obsessive and jealous, i don't think he would've had as hard of a time moving on from paul for so long (up until he died practically) if his relationship with paul was purely unrequited yearning. there's just no way. paul curates his image so thoroughly that even he struggles to find the "real" paul underneath it all. it's much easier for him to hide this part of himself than it is for john, and that's the simple reason we have more evidence from him than we do paul. for paul, whatever relationship he had with john was one he always knew would be sidelined. if the sexual side was something that he did expect to continue long term, i think he would've been okay having his wife and kids and john on the side at the same time. (i do fully believe he liked jane, but she was definitely a very convenient beard, and i think she knew that on some level. hence the sudden break up that she swore to never talk about?) that was always how they did it. im sure they had some unspoken understanding between the two of them that the other was always the most important one in their heart despite the girls and wives they kept around.

i say unspoken because i don't think john really saw it the same way. he needed paul and he needed the other beatles desperately. he was the one to suggest they live together on that greek island. cynthia saw this in him and tried to make him realize he needed them more than they needed him. i think he wanted paul all to himself, and the rational side of him probably knew it was a delusional dream, but it meant that whatever way he could actually get paul was never going to be enough for him. his life probably had an insistent undercurrent of disappointment and frustration. somewhere along the line i think they finally tried to talk about the future of their relationship and paul probably didn't give john the answer that he wanted. john needed paul so much that not having him at all was better than only having part of him. he's the type that needs a unfailingly loyal soul mate who's just as obsessed as he is, and i think he found that desire satisfied in yoko who was willing to play along. i think paul's answer probably made john vindictive and spiteful, but i think a part of him still believed that things would continue the way they were between them. maybe he still overestimated how much paul needed him, or underestimated paul's ability to move on from him. (a bit of projection happening there probably) but his surprise when paul married linda, who he thought (hoped?) was another short term girlfriend, and his belief that they wouldn't last very long tells me that he still was clinging on to the chance that paul would come running back and prove his loyalty and love to him. everything john did around this time reads like an act of spite as well as a kind of impossible test for paul. paul never passed them and i think that's where much of john's resentment that yoko talks about came from. paul could never give him what he wanted and john kind of set him up for failure in that way, but still blamed him for the aftermath.

anyways, moral of the story is, paul's rigid need to chase perfection doomed his relationship with john, and john's need for all or nothing love doomed his relationship with paul.

[pomefioredove]

Noble Bell ; prologue

what if you were sent to Noble Bell College instead?

type of post: (possible) series characters: rollo (barely mentioned), original characters additional info: reader is gender neutral, this is largely my own vision, I wrote this all in one sitting and it shows LOL, word count: 3.1k author's note: after several failed drafts, I decided to just write my thoughts on noble bell as a story. do tell me what you think and if I should continue, if you have the chance!

prologue | the king of truands, 1 | the king of truands, 2 |

It appeared as if, for all its hundreds of years of life, very little of Noble Bell College had changed. 

The original face, or what is left of it at this time, is almost indistinguishable from the prints of great artists who lived when the City of Flowers was still but three parts of one whole. If it were not for her clothes, those great banners of cotton which hang from her walls and surround her like the ruffles of an unflattering dress, that which cradle the insignia of a college in wine-colored hands, that pointed fleur de lis in gold, Noble Bell College would be the very picture of her younger self. 

The halls which extend from one end of her body to the other like the grotesque wings of a pigeon were added after the University, which had once been confined to its own division on the left side of the River Soleil, had consumed the island of the City, that which had, at one time, cradled twenty-one of these magnificent buildings, and now had only one. Noble Bell became a skeletal reminder of its medieval past. 

Now, what was once a ground of solemnity and penance, and other ancient things, had given a painful birth to a different sort of self-punishment, that of academia. Noble Bell dawned its new clothes and its new name, and became a home of scholars, a place of enlightened thought. The island that had once been a sanctuary for the sacred became its final resting place. The College was built over hallowed ground. 

The body of the Gothic building had gone, in some parts, untouched, however, the later additions, done in the style Haussmann some hundreds of years after, coil around her like the chains of a falsely accused prisoner, or the noose around a beggar's neck. 

Statues on the face, neglected, crumbled into dust. The colored glass in the lecture halls were replaced with white windows for better light. Every hundred years, some haughty new headmaster would consider cutting down the building herself, and putting something new and ugly in her stead. 

Nothing would ever come of it. 

It is important to note, dear reader, that though the past of religion and superstition had been abandoned by the scholars of Noble Bell in pursuit of the enlightened future of thought, with it went only the body, not the soul. 

The students of Noble Bell began to look upon their history with pride, rather than disdain, and thus the construction on the lady ceased, and the reconstruction started up. In some aspects, it was too late; the medieval glass had already been sold and repurposed into bottles which floated at the surface of the Soleil, the stone turned to dust and carried into the wind. 

This romanticized past was tainted with a bitter guilt, one that struck even the proudest of freshmen when they met the eyes of the statues which guarded the building and her history. A sense of possession consumed the heart of the student body, and, thus, a gate was built. It was sanctuary no more. 

A romantic would tell you that it is the love of the people that kept the heart of Noble Bell alive. 

This is not true; it is guilt. 

To the wise man, the realist, the freshman who feared the eyes of the statues, the traditions that carried on were as meaningful as digging up a rotting corpse and putting it on trial. Without the superstition, it was a delusion, a pathetic attempt at absolution for the sins of the scholar and the printing press. 

Enlightenment became repulsive to him. 

What was in the hollow halls of the Haussmann was never alive, and what had survived the purge of time and man was hidden in the bell tower for few to touch. 

To the wise man, the only absolution of sin was through the fire. 

Your heart wakes you before your body.

That is to say, the feeling of dread, of knowing you are somewhere you shouldn't be, comes before the biting cold and the splinters pressing against your back.

The inky water surrounding you in three directions (the fourth being the stone mouth of the river) nearly cradles you back to sleep. Your rest was quite comfortable. You can't remember the last time you slept like that.

Your mind is the very last to wake, and it is what finally forces your body up in a sudden jolt, uneasily rocking the boat which had become your manger.

You grip both sides until it steadies, which gives you enough time to adjust to the dark.

One thing becomes quite clear: This is not where you fell asleep.

Then, another: This is not what you were wearing before.

The delicate fabric, hand-dyed in wine and blood red, is like nothing you own. Where had these come from? Surely, not your closet.

And, more worrying: how did you get in them?

Take a moment, if you will, to look beyond the black water of the river: next to you, on your right, is a stone embankment, with a short ledging that extends only to a single flight of stairs. The wall is so high you cannot see above that.

Now, look behind you: there is one fabulous bridge, also of stone, arching above the water in a mesmerizing pirouette. Warm light spills from its sides and dances on the inky waters below.

Ahead of you is only more river and stone.

And then, on your right again, is screaming.

You had heard screams before, but none like this. This is bloody murder, save me screaming, the sort that makes you jump and run to its source without thinking first.

You climb out of the trembling boat, the sound of your footsteps scuffing against stone following you across the landing and up the steps.

Yet again you are stopped.

Rising above the embankment of the river as if ascending to heaven itself, reaching through the thin evening clouds and into the stars, are two magnificent bell towers.

Your steps slow, and then stop at the peak of the stairs to admire the body of the building, illuminated by street lamps and candlelight, blanketed in a fog of distant laughter.

You have never seen such an unearthly sight.

If not for the screaming, you could have spent days there.

But you are motivated once more to follow the strange sound, and, perhaps, find out where on earth you are.

Like a princess in a tower, the building is guarded by a rather impressive gate, not done in the style of the place itself, but sightly nonetheless. If it were not already left open and vulnerable by some obvious human error, you might not have found a way in.

The sound of your footsteps follows you across the stone, and you stop at the base of a staircase that would have led you to a set of inhuman wooden doors.

And... there is a goat.

A pretty, white little thing, with a bow around its neck.

it turns to you as you stop, and it makes that same screaming noise, and then bounds off around the corner of the building and into another, attached at its side.

"Wait," you say.

Though, your feet move before your mouth, your mouth before your mind, and you suddenly find yourself following this odd twist of a white rabbit.

The delicate thing leaps through an opening in the side, and you climb in after it, chasing it down open-air hallways that remind you all too much of an old monastery.

The goat bleats. "Wait!" you say. "Where is your owner?"

It bleats again, and it almost sounds like a laugh. How strange...

You tumble down corridors and halls, turn corners, ignoring the sound of laughter and cheering that is growing ever so close, and, all at once, you stumble out into the warm light of a party, crashing into something cold and metal. The goat disappears in the crowd.

Everything is silent.

You can see nothing but feet from where you fell, and a hundred hems of wine and blood red. Your clothes.

"Who is that?" someone asks.

"They weren't at orientation,"

"How could anyone be late? That's never happened,"

"They don't look like a student of Noble Bell..."

Student? So this is a school?

"You," a voice says, much colder and sharper than the others, like a winter breeze. "Get up."

You are in no place to disobey.

You stand, uneasily, and, much to your displeasure, every head in the crowd is turned towards you. Whispers dance amongst the students, glances are exchanged, looks ranging from confusion to disdain.

There is only one face you cannot see. At one distant end of the courtyard, there is a stage, dressed in reds and oranges, and on it, four actors. They are as still as the crowd, seemingly having abandoned their play in favor of the mysterious stranger.

The person in question, then, is actually below them, whispering something quite loudly, but you cannot make it out at this distance.

"Your name?"

You turn back to the wintry voice.

This man, you notice, is dressed differently from the others. He's in all black, from his boots to the cloak around him, even his hair, which flows around his shoulders, is as inky as the cold water of the river you had woken on.

"My name?" you ask.

He scoffs. "It is a simple request,"

"Shall we return to the mystery?" a weak, artificially high-pitched voice calls from the front of the crowd. "I'd like to see the mystery continue!"

"Quiet, Gregoire," the man in black snaps. "Now, who are you to come so late?"

"Late to what?"

A few murmurs ripple through the stillness of the crowd.

He sniffles, turning his nose up at you. "You do not know where you are?"

"No,"

Someone begins to whisper. "Do you think they're from-"

"Quiet!" he demands. "This is clearly not a student of any arcane academy I know of."

"They're wearing our robes!"

You look down at yourself. You'd almost forgotten about that.

The boy narrows his eyes. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know. I woke up on a boat,"

He sighs. "What part of the city are you from?"

"...The city?"

Another moment of whispers and stares. The crowd seems to have all but forgotten the play happening at the mouth of the courtyard.

The man in black puts his hands on his hips. "Yes. Now, what division are you from? The old university? The Ville?"

"I, um... none of those,"

"The outskirts, then?"

"No. What city is this?"

His brow furrows, and he crosses his arms. At the very least, he no longer seems angry. More... thoughtful.

"What country are you from?"

You tell him, and he huffs.

"There is no such place. None that I have heard of,"

The same voice from earlier returns. "Perhaps we should wait until after the mystery has concluded-"

"Gregoire!" the man in black snaps, "We know it's you! Quiet, for once in your life!"

"...Very well,"

He grumbles, massaging his temples, and then turns back to you. His eyes are as sharp and focused as his voice. They're dark, almost black, with the faintest gleam of red. He's wearing a lot of eyeliner, you think.

"Come with me. If you are telling the truth, then you will have nothing to fear,"

"There is no such place,"

"That's what I said!" the boy exclaims, swiping the atlas off the desk.

The headmaster of this school is old, much older than you are imagining now, thought perhaps it is not the fault of age, but of weariness.

"Control yourself, Monsieur de Neige," he says, looking longingly at the book whose pages are now scattered across the floor.

The boy grumbles, giving you a nasty side-eye.

"What will we do with them?"

"What else? They will stay here until we can find an answer. I will reach out to my colleagues at the other arcane academies and see if they have any council,"

"Stay here?" he snaps, standing from his chair with such force that it goes flying backward, narrowly missing you from where you're standing against the wall.

"They are not a student of Noble Bell. They are a stranger! Who knows what they might-"

"Now," the headmaster sighs. "I know we are a... private institution. But a long time ago, this building was a sanctuary for outcasts."

He grits his teeth. "I am not willing to risk the safety of the building or its students for an act of pity. You should know that I take my duties as vice president of the student council quite seriously-,"

The corner you'd been backed into was starting to feel tighter and tighter. If not for the conversation, you'd-

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the heavy wooden door of the office opening, but a sliver, and something white just outside.

Your eyes widen. You glance between M. de Neige and the headmaster, and, in the throes of their heated argument, you slip out into the dark hall.

"You," you say, putting your hands on your hips.

The little goat bleats. It doesn't seem very guilty.

"You led me there on purpose, didn't you? To create a diversion? What did you want?'

It stomps and scuffs its hooves against the stone floor, and with another little bleat, it turns around itself to show you something.

Your eyes soften.

There are two apples on the floor beneath it, both bruised and wrinkled, but good nonetheless.

"For me?"

You stoop forward and take one of the browning fruits off the cold, dirty ground, and slip it into one of the wide pockets of the robe. The goat chuffs, clearly pleased, and not even you can help but smile.

"Let's go, then, shall we? I want to get out of this place,"

The hallway is pitch black, the moonlight subdued by clouds and softened by the thick windows, but you can still make your way around quite easily.

You start heading in the direction you came, your new (and only) friend in tow, when the sound of footsteps scuffing against stone follows you.

You turn, eyes wide, expecting M. de Neige, or worse, but there's only a flash of gold and then quiet.

"Who's there? Come out, now, or... my goat will gouge you!"

The little animal stares at you, mouth hanging open in bewilderment, but it seems to work, anyway.

A boy, taller and thinner than M. de Neige, comes out from around the corner with his hands held up. Even in the dull silver light of the hall, you can make out the color of his eyes. Green. His hair is blond and reaches his chin, and is rather unkempt, curling and sticking out at odd places. His straight bangs are clearly cut by his own hand.

"My-my apologies. I did not mean to frighten you. I was only curious,"

You sigh. It's the voice from the orientation festival, the one M. de Neige called Gregoire.

"Well, don't be. We're leaving," you say. "Now... which way is out?"

"There are more than one, if you know where to look,"

You narrow your eyes at him and he goes pale.

"I-I only mean that there are many ways out into the streets, but you wouldn't want to be alone in the city after curfew,"

"I think I can handle it,"

"It's unsafe,"

"Is it?"

"Veritably,"

He doesn't seem to be lying, at least. You let your arms fall to your sides with a sigh.

"But I can't stay here. This feels like a prison,"

"It may," he nods. "It is stone walls all the same. But you don't have to stay here. The dorms are but a short walk away."

The goat bleats, and you agree. You're not sure whether you can trust this man or not, yet.

"What's your name?"

He seems to stand a little straighter, almost eager to talk about himself.

"I am the author Pierrot Gregoire, whose mystery was presented in the courtyard this evening,"

You seem to recall his voice again, his back turned to you in the crowd, as if he were infinitely more interested in his play than the commotion.

"I remember you," you say, sticking your hands in your pockets. You feel around the apple you'd put in there earlier. "Sorry I ruined it."

"The people were losing interest either way," he sighs and hangs his head. "My poor mystery..."

You glance at the little goat, and it chuffs back, nodding its head towards the end of the hall as if telling you to make a break for it while he's distracted.

You can't bring yourself to.

"Here," you say, handing him the shriveled apple. "We're even, then."

Pierrot's entire disposition changes; his face lights up with a childlike joy that makes it seem as if he'd completely forgotten about his woes, and he cups the apple in his palm with reverence.

"Oh... thank you," he says, finally. "I will take you to the dorms."

The evening had grown cold and windy since your spectacle in the courtyard.

The robes, at least, are warm enough to keep you comfortable, although you feel a pang of sympathy for the poor goat, who has only its fur, and, in a way, for Pierrot, whose robes look worn and beaten and strangely burnt.

"You can stay with me in the spare house," he says.

"You don't stay in a dorm?"

"My housewarden threw me to the streets months ago,"

He says it merrily, with that same smile, but there's an underlying sense of bitterness. You don't ask about it again.

Pierrot brings you to a small, dark building at the very edge of the island. Once again, you are surrounded by inky black water.

"Here," he hums, lighting a single candle as you walk in. "It's not much, but better than the sewers."

"You've slept in the sewers?"

He shudders. "I don't want to talk about it,"

Once an adequate amount of candles are lit, he pulls up a chest for you to sit on, and takes a seat on the floor across from you.

You sigh, letting out the stress and tension you'd been carrying in your chest in a single breath.

It felt much later than it truly was.

"That is a pretty creature of yours," he says, nodding at your goat. "Does it have a name?"

"Hugo," it says.

Both you and Pierrot go silent.

Then, finally, you shout.

"You can talk?!"

[lilacxquartz]

your body is my temple (and i will worship you);

incubus male oc x human fem!reader

w.c: 2.1k

summary: you and midnight take it to the next level and satisfy a mutual curiosity.

themes: smut, demon x human, porn with plot, size difference, one shot, reader insert, oc/ original character, biting, first person pov

~~~

Slowly but surely, it has been getting easier with having Midnight around. I became used to his presence over time, no matter how unsettling he seemed to be.

As it turned out, demons weren’t too different from humans after all.

At least not by that much.

For the most part, he tried to approach me in a way that he thought to be human in nature. That was my interpretation at least. He tried minimise my fear by getting to know me personally, taking interest in what I like as a means to find a common ground so that we could both get along.

This was going well. Or as well as it possibly could have been given the circumstances because who truly expects an incubus to show up in their life, just like that? Still, just for him alone, I fitted my apartment with blackout curtains so that he could move around comfortably as he pleased.

Slowly, I became used to his presence and before long, we were finally comfortable with one another.

Which led Midnight to want more than what we already had.

(Considering that he was an incubus, I was mostly just surprised that he didn’t bring it up sooner.)

Just as I finished up on my dinner, he followed me back to the bedroom with a certain sort of glint in his eye.

Personally, I wanted to get some more reading done but I could already tell that Midnight had more than just relaxation in mind.

“How interesting,” he observed as his pointed fingers trailed along my flesh, “I don’t have to kiss you for you to stop feeling afraid anymore.”

I nodded, thinking that he had a point. Usually, I would shudder at his touch because Midnight, regardless of how gentle he acted, was still a demon—a monster—there was nothing calming about him at all.

With a featherlight touch, he brushed his fingers down to my chin, pointing my jaw up at him, murmuring on and off in a slur, “You are so… intoxicating… when you’re not afraid.”

Midnight then leaned over me, making my back land flat against my mattress. His body hovered over mine as he dipped his face down with breath like ashen fire, smoking against my skin; daring me to reciprocate.

“I can’t resist, at least not forever,” he admitted, pressing his body right up against mine. The shadows that enveloped his body in void-like fire didn’t do much to his excitement as I could feel it, pushing up right against me with want and even need.

Sinking somehow even further into the mattress, I retracted myself with a cautious tone behind my words, “But, you’re not a forceful incubus …are you?”

Midnight froze in his pursuit, retracting ever so slightly as he lifted his lips off of mine. His blank eyes screwing shut as though he pushed any dark thought back into the murky depths of his mind.

(The part that he didn’t dare let surface, for your own sake.)

“I’m not,” he soothed.

I exhaled a deep breath and tried to get up from bed, but he still kept me locked in; caging my frame with his arms as his palms sank into the mattress.

“But it’s just… certain things,” he began, his voice almost growling as he spoke, “from the way that you breathe to the way your skin goosebumps when it brushes against mine, I’m starting to understand fate a little better, is all,” he paused before continuing, “don’t you feel at least… a little bit similar?”

Admittedly, I did feel something. I just wasn’t sure what. I harboured some sort of curiosity given that he was an incubus and at times, my mind explored such a possibility. To experience something more intense, perhaps even dangerous; the very thing that his kind was known for.

As my mind internally conflicted with itself, he tried to comfort me even if he didn’t let me go, “It’s not your fault, I know. It’s not even personal; humans were designed to fear the unknown.”

“It’s just…” I trailed off as I truly began to consider it. I wasn’t against it, that wasn’t the issue. It was the logistical side of things that threw me off; his height and therefore his potential size was an issue.

He tilted his head off to the side, giving me a moment to think.

“It’s just,” I continued from where I left off, “wouldn’t it hurt if we were to…?”

Midnight eased into a slowly relaxing smile, the glimpse of sharp teeth playing into his expression. Slowly, his body relaxed as he began to understand exactly why I felt so on the fence about things, “I’d work you into it, of course, but also, incubi and even succubi have evolved with human anatomy in mind. It can hurt, but it won’t kill you.”

My eyes flickered off to the ceiling, avoiding his gaze. Despite him lacking irises, I somehow always knew when he was making eye contact with me.

“Let me help you ease into it,” he offered, sweeping his hands around my body; his touch so rough yet so gentle at the same time as worshipping my very own skin.

His hands then moved down as he worked me into it, my eyes widening as his protruding claws grazed against my inner thigh. Black pointed nails spearing from his greyed fingertips.

Pausing, Midnight retracted his hand and balled it into a fist to reel in the claws and assume the length of normal fingernails.

“…My mistake,” he murmured, almost seeming embarrassed.

“W-weird…” I whispered in response, my voice dripping with fascination.

He didn’t reply however, choosing to push the with the task in mind instead. Peeling my sweat shorts down, he dipped his index finger into my sex before retracting it ever so slightly.

“I’ll work you into it,” he promised as he continued to stare at me, as though searching for a certain type of reaction, “I won’t hurt you… too much.”

My thighs squeezed involuntarily as he slid his digit back and forth while his thumb rubbed circles over my clit, lulling me into a gradually relaxed state. It took a couple of minutes at best, but soon enough I was flushed, my cheeks burning with anticipation as he leaned in over me.

Pulling his hand away from me, he moved ever so slightly back to rest both hands against my hips before brushing down to meet parallel with my knees. Curiously, he tented up my legs with a steady grip, hovering his body over mine, positioning the tip of his cock right against my entrance.

Noticing my unease, Midnight continued to take things slowly with as much reassurance as possible, “Relax with me.”

I tried to nod, feeling him ease slowly into my core, wincing as he gradually filled me out completely. I writhed just a little bit underneath his slowly flattening body, his length completely enveloped by my walls in all directions as he finally moved in as far deep as he could possibly go.

Midnight released a low guttural moan in a satisfied tone, seeming pleased as he took a hot minute to fully appreciate the sensation.

“Feeling okay?” he asked as he checked in.

“K-kinda,” I replied in a slightly strained tone.

With a tight nod, he pushed himself back ever so slightly to take the pressure off of you just a little bit, “We’ll go as slow as we need to, then.”

“O-okay,” I murmured in response, feeling him slowly retract his hips and then steadily push back inside.

His movements felt almost calculated as he rolled his hips against mine. With each thrust, no matter how gentle; my breath fluttered upon his impact, my eyes close to watering from the building intensity.

My whines turned into cries as I adjusted to his size, my legs widening as I struggled to take him in. My back arching as a means to accommodate him. As a means of seeking comfort, my fingers desperately clawed at the sheets, grabbing heaped bunches of linen as my toes curled on queue.

It was gradual, but he picked up the pace over time as it became easier for him to both move inside of me as well as my body finally starting to relax, somehow. In a way, I was actually extremely turned on and my heat, so slick and glistening wet, gave away just how I truly felt. My body softened at his touch, allowing him to adopt a quicker pace.

I gasped again as he positioned himself closer over me, continuing to keep me confined within his arms. His arms relaxed over the bed, keeping himself comfortably propped up against his elbows while his head dipped over mine, his lips so desperate to connect with my own.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, seeking comfort within his touch which he then leaned into, taking up the pace a notch in response; so feverishly keen.

Midnight grunted as he now pounded into me, rutting his hips at an almost feral pace as I whined in slight protest. To counter my complaints, he finally kissed me to ease the discomfort, spilling whatever magic he held onto inside, slowly tranquilising—numbing the soreness, soothing the unrelenting pain inflicted by his touch.

“Still doing good?” he whispered into my lips, despite not slowing down at all.

“I-I’m good,” I confirmed, just barely hearing him over the heavy breathing and the sound of slapping skin, “I’m good, I’m good…”

Midnight smiled as he revealed his razor sharp teeth that reflected in the spilling moonlight, planting his lips right against my own as his tongue couldn’t help but invade and explore, taking the lead within my mouth as I just barely wrestled it back. Getting too ahead of himself, he couldn’t help but pluck a taste either, sinking his teeth into my lips.

However, upon feeling my body protest to such a sudden and sharp pain, he reeled himself back ever so slightly, offering only a half apologetic whisper, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

His breathing grew gradually heavier as he struggled to retain his composure; his body shaking as I struggled to maintain a secure hold around him. His hips almost trembled—quaked rather as his pace became rougher, his groans morphed into growls as he truly lost himself in my body. I could feel as he subtly accelerated and as his teeth grazed on occasion over my shoulder, grazing against such soft tissue in comparison to his hardened skin. He wasn’t truly apologetic, but he did mutter out hasty apologies whenever I squirmed in heated protest.

I held on either way, feeling as his claws spilled from his fingertips—piercing the bed in a lapse of dwindling control. His body almost vibrated as he purred in deep satisfaction, continuing to slam his monstrous length into my cunt.

“Almost,” he promised as he fucked himself into me, “almost, almost—!”

With a steady push that followed after his words, I could feel as his cock throbbed and twitched inside of me, releasing a surge of warmth within my walls in an almost demanding release. I gasped as he slammed himself inside a final time, painfully emptying himself into me with such pressure and overflowing passion that it couldn’t help but spill onto the bedding as he slowly pulled himself out of my spent body.

I shook ever so slightly as my legs quivered, feeling as Midnight soothed me with another kiss before completely rolling off of me, “To numb the pain.”

I nodded as I did my best to recover, panting as I did so, recollecting my breath while my body glistened with sweat. It took a while, but slowly my body relaxed a second time; my legs squeezing shut once more as my hips wound down.

“Don’t worry about the mess,” Midnight said, “I’ll be your bed for tonight.”

I didn’t protest too much, if at all as I felt him pull my body over his own. He was surprisingly comfortable and perfectly warm; the shadows that wisped from his body tickled against my skin in a gentle warmth, providing a soothing effect to lessen the remaining tension that I still held onto.

Feeling my eyelids droop shut, I couldn’t stay awake for a second longer anymore and drifted off to what seemed to be a much needed sleep.

All the while thinking that perhaps that giving into Midnight was the light I needed, because maybe, just maybe, fate wasn’t wrong in bonding me with him after all.

~~~

more original works • and if fanfics are your thing 🖤

[airybcby]

hey, for the more than a married couple event, can i request isagi with 🍊🍫?

of course!

an isagi yoichi chocolate covered orange

જ⁀♡⊹｡° all this money can't buy me a time machine

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event !

♡ content — isagi yoichi x gn! reader, ex bf! isagi, gn! reader, pining (isagi) , established relationship, trying to make it work (spoiler: it wont)

♡ synopsis — maybe in another life, you and isagi yoichi would've worked out. he just wonders why it couldn't be this one. and sometimes, you do too.

When you walked into the small apartment assigned to you for the marriage simulation, the last person you expected to see standing there was him.

Isagi Yoichi.

Your breath hitched as his dark blue eyes met yours, widening in recognition. He hadn’t changed much in the past six months—not that you’d expected him to. The same messy hair, the same soft smile, and the same hopeful look that had once made you fall for him.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, shifting his weight.

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Hey.”

The room felt smaller now, suffocating under the weight of everything left unsaid.

It had been six months since you broke up.

The decision hadn’t been easy—not for you, and not for him. But Isagi’s relentless pursuit of his soccer dreams left little room for anything else, including you.

No matter how much he apologized or promised to do better, you always found yourself waiting: waiting for him to come home, waiting for him to text, waiting for him to notice the cracks forming in your relationship.

Until, one day, you couldn’t wait anymore.

The breakup wasn’t explosive or dramatic. It was quiet, like the last flicker of a candle before the flame died out.

He had cried, begging you to stay. You almost did.

But “almost” wasn’t enough.

Now, standing in the apartment with him again, the memories came rushing back.

“This is unexpected,” you said, breaking the silence.

He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Small world, huh?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

“Let’s just get through this, okay?” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. “It’s only a few weeks.”

He nodded quickly, his expression faltering. “Yeah. Of course.”

The first few days were awkward.

You kept your distance, avoiding unnecessary conversations or eye contact. Isagi seemed to sense your discomfort and gave you space, though you caught him watching you sometimes, his expression unreadable.

The program forced you to interact—cooking meals together, completing tasks designed to “strengthen the bond” between you. It was unbearable at first, the weight of your shared history making every moment feel like a test.

But Isagi was still Isagi.

Still kind, still thoughtful, still determined to make things work, even if this wasn’t real.

And despite your best efforts, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack.

One night, after a long day of assignments, you found yourselves sitting together on the couch, exhausted.

Isagi leaned back, his head resting against the cushion, eyes half-closed. “Remember when we used to do this?” he murmured, his voice soft.

You stiffened, unsure how to respond.

“After games,” he continued, not waiting for an answer. “I’d come back so tired I could barely move, and you’d just…sit with me. It always made me feel better.”

“Yoichi,” you said quietly, not trusting yourself to say more.

He turned to look at you, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t name—regret, maybe, or longing.

“I missed this,” he admitted. “I missed you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Don’t,” you said, shaking your head. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” he asked, sitting up. “It’s the truth.”

“Because it doesn’t change anything,” you said, your voice trembling. “We tried, Yoichi. We tried so hard, and it still wasn’t enough.”

He looked at you, his expression pained. “I could try harder.”

“You always say that,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The first kiss happened a week later.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t even intentional.

You’d been arguing about something trivial—who should clean the dishes, maybe, or what to cook for dinner. The tension boiled over, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, soft and familiar and wrong.

You pulled away almost immediately, your heart racing.

“That was a mistake,” you said breathlessly.

He nodded, looking just as shaken. “Yeah. A mistake.”

But it happened again.

And again.

Every time, you told yourselves it didn’t mean anything. It was just a slip, a moment of weakness.

But deep down, you knew better.

The final week of the program arrived far too quickly, bringing with it the inevitability of goodbye.

You tried to steel yourself, to remind yourself that this wasn’t real—that it couldn’t be real.

But Isagi made it hard.

He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, his every action a silent plea for you to stay.

On the last night, as you sat together on the couch, the weight of everything unsaid hung heavy in the air.

“I don’t want this to end,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

You looked at him, your chest aching. “Yoichi…”

“I mean it,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t care about the program, or soccer, or anything else. I just want to be with you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “You can’t mean that,” you said, shaking your head. “You love soccer. It’s your dream. I can’t compete with that, and I shouldn’t have to.”

“You’re not a competition,” he said, his voice desperate. “You’re everything. I’ll give it all up if that’s what it takes—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “Don’t say that. You’d hate me for it. And I couldn’t live with that.”

His shoulders slumped, his expression crumbling. “So that’s it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You wiped at your tears, forcing yourself to stay strong. “That’s it.”

The next morning, you packed your things in silence.

Isagi didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t say goodbye.

As you walked out of the apartment for the last time, you allowed yourself one final glance back.

He was standing in the doorway, his blue eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own.

But you turned away, knowing that some dreams were too big to share.

And some loves weren’t meant to last.

10/10 recommend listening to the one that got away acoustic version it makes this so much sadder

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[danyasblogsblog]

MY LIVING LEGEND KEEGAN RUSS

warnings : SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, death, grief, gunshots, sad ending, SOO angsty, probably more

- after y/n’s best friend, ajax’s death, they havent been the same. in the end, all they want is to die. until they dont want too.

based off the lana del rey song, living legend

a/n: magpie is your codename!! finallyyyy im doing a gender neutral reader!! hope u guys enjoy. sorry if it all moves too fast. im not very used to writing long fics.

‘tangos. next building.’

the afternoon horizon glistened as gunshots reverberated through the air. the burgundy hats worn by federation soldiers fell off as they dropped to their knees, crimson blood rippling out of their chests. you held your sniper scope up to your eye, holding your gun in a white knuckle grip. as soon as you spotted one of those maroon hats, your trigger went off. the gunshot was loud, but your headgear stopped the sound from blowing out your eardrums. you watched as the solider fell backwards, blood pooling out of his bullet wound. a sigh escaped your mouth as you pulled the scope away from your face, holding it against your chest.

‘nice shot kid, almost getting better than me.’ keegan’s voice was like an angel call from behind you, and his calloused hand went to grip your shoulder. ‘almost? wow, could you be more narcissistic?’ you chuckled.

‘just watch and learn.’

you stared as keegan removed his firm grip on your shoulder and pulled out his gun from his back. he brought it close to his face, and his hands lingered over the trigger. of course, you thought to yourself, safety is already off. his eyes scanned the nearby buildings for federation soldiers, and within a matter of seconds, he spotted one. pulling the trigger, the man was dead on impact. the death rattle shook his body, as a pool of blood circled itself around him.

‘thats how its done, kid.’

keegan looked down at you, waiting for your approval. ‘wow, mr living legend. that was a beautiful shot.’ you quipped, silently clapping for him. before he could respond, merrick’s voice erupted out of your radio. ‘everyone, move forward. enemy contact ahead in further buildings.’

you huffed out of your mouth as you and keegan made your way out of the abandoned house. you thought about the memories that were once created in the very room you and keegan were killing people in. were those people who lived there even alive anymore?

‘whats on your mind, magpie?’

keegan’s voice slightly startled you. ‘nothing.’ you muttered. it really was nothing- you didnt have time to be worrying about the people who once lived in the houses you and your team ended lives in- especially when your life was at stake.

keegan looked bothered by your answer, but nevertheless, you two continued walking. side by side, arms lightly grazing eachother when you wandered a bit to his direction. soon enough, you met up with the rest of the ghosts.

‘keep working with the people you’re with now, don’t split up. there are too many of them for us to risk it.’

merrick’s barked orders were copied and obeyed as everyone slowly split up with their partners. keegan’s footsteps echoed yours in a rhythmic manner.

you knew why he told everyone to not split up.

‘theres a building up there- high enough to see everything. we set up there to prepare. be quiet though, because sometimes federation soldiers are surrounding the building.’ his words were confidently spoken, and you followed pursuit.

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

‘imagine falling off this thing.’

you looked down through a broken window in the building, the ground seeming so far away.

‘well you better not, im not dragging your dead ass back to fort santa monica, y/n’

‘you’d cry if i died, i know you would.’ you imitated a crying face, and wiped imaginary tears from your cheeks. you chuckled and keegan rolled his eyes. your hushed voices could only be heard by each-other as the shuffling of footsteps from keegan echoed off the walls, bouncing back to you two quietly.

the sound of gunshots and spanish orders being screamed frantically switched a flip in the two of you- your joking demeanours suddenly serious and concentrated. you pulled your gun out of your back sling, taking off the safety. you glared as you stared into the scope, searching for the familiar burgundy hats that you had learned to hate.

‘see anything, magpie?’

keegan pulled up close behind you, and you could feel his breath on your neck as he leaned down to your ear. his silent whispers to you were like a mantra you wish could be repeated thousands of times. ‘nothing. not a single solider in sight.’ you mumbled.

he leaned back up, straightening his back.

you put your scope down, your eyes finally resting, and the tension in your jaw relaxing. you sighed. spanish was heard below you and keegan. you immediately pulled a pistol out of your holster, your reflexes making your body move fast. footsteps and creaking floorboards could be heard, and to say you were on edge would be an understatement.

‘its fine, kid. they wont come up.’ keegan’s hushed voice soothed you, but you were still unable to shake the feeling of the need too protect him and yourself. ‘did you hear me? its fine.’ he was a bit louder now, but there was still not a chance in hell the enemy could hear him. the floorboard creaking and quiet voices stopped after a matter of seconds. ‘better safe than sorry.’

silence.

you raised an eyebrow at keegan, wondering why he was suddenly muted.

‘i know you still blame yourself, y/n.’

first mistake.

your silence indicated you knew exactly what he was talking about. something that killed you inside. ajax’s death.

you had blamed yourself for it- you took one minute apart from him and when you had returned, a bloody trail and a missing ajax were all to be seen. the multiple nightmares you had had the days following his disappearance plagued you, even to this day, it still did. thinking about how, maybe, his death could’ve been avoided if you had just listened to your gut.

you still remembered the day he died. when keegan held him as he died in his arms. when you guys had gone between hell and earth to find him- just for him to die the minute you got your hands on him.

you still remembered sobbing in keegan’s arms with your head pounding, blaming yourself and wanting to just die. since that day, suicidal thoughts carried around you. you just wanted ajax back. he was your best friend- the first ghost you met. he was the first person you told about your crush on keegan. you would do anything for 5 more minutes with him- to tell him how sorry you were. to tell him how much you cared about him.

‘it wasnt your fault. you know that.’

you were silent. the way keegan’s smooth voice talked about it made something rattle inside of you. you felt weak. you were distracted. your airway felt tightened- as if you were being choked. tears threatened to fall but you couldnt dare yourself to let them roll down your cheeks. you had to focus. you had too.

keegan thought about what you had said earlier, about dying. come to think about it, he liked you a bit to much for your death. he didnt want you to be just another funeral he’d have to attend. he wanted you to be alive. he’d miss the concentrated face you made when you were on a mission. all the memories you two had together.

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

‘i saved you a chocolate bar, kee.’

‘how healthy.’

‘i know, right?’

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

you fell silent. gunshots could still be heard, and it was the only thing that was stopping you from falling apart. the fact that you were on a mission, and it wasnt the time to fuck around.

‘keegan, this isnt the time.’ you huffed. you so badly wanted to talk about it, but how could you? it simply wasnt the moment, and both you and keegan knew this subject wouldnt come up again for a long time. you thought keegan would stop pestering you with questions, that maybe, he would just leave it. but oh, how wrong you were.

his strong, broad frame walked over to you, and his wintry blue eyes stared down into yours. his hands firmly gripped onto the back of your elbows, not too tight, but he had a stable grip. god, you thought, i forgot how stubborn this man is.

‘i wanted to talk about this with you, and i know its not a good time too right now, but i dont get another opportunity like this again.’

keegan was a man of very few words- his eyes and actions speaking more than his mouth did, but now, you could tell he was serious. you pulled your eyes away from his, but the intense glare he carried still was focused on you.

‘keegan-’

a louder gunshot could be heard- one closer to you and keegan’s position. immediately, you felt on edge. but keegan’s grip on you tightened, and you felt compelled to stay where you were. that was your second mistake.

‘ajax wouldnt want you to blame yourself. you.. you doing this to yourself is hurting you. its distracted you for months i can tell. you’re always on edge, you just arent the same. the jokes you make arent the same. you just aren’t right.’

‘keegan stop. youre not.. youre not a fucking therapist. just leave me alone, i dont want to talk about this.’

third mistake.

your annoyed tone set something off in keegan- you’d never been like that with him. you had always been even-tempered, something the rest of the ghosts admired. your words, enunciated by the way your voice seemed sharper to him now, made him furrow his eyebrows as he stared down at you. he let go off your arms, but for some reason, you longed for his touch still. you shook off the feeling, and stepped away from him.

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

you didnt know how it happened.

the spray of blood sprinkled itself over the walls as it erupted from you like a fountain. the ringing in your ears felt like the devil screaming at you as you fell back, your head hitting the wooden floorboards.

a wail of pain escaped your lips as your hands travelled your stomach trying to find the bullet wound, and when you finally laid your fingers on it, your body felt stiff.

suddenly, all your fantasies of dying and killing yourself were gone. now, you just wanted to live. your life was fading, and it was fading so quickly.

keegan had rushed over to you, screaming into his radio, telling merrick you got hit. over the incessant ringing in your ears, you could hear the panic in his voice. his trembling hands went to your wound, examining it. birds sung as he begged you to open your eyes- the sun’s light slowly fading, just like you.

‘magpie, y/n, open your eyes, open your fucking eyes, please.’

keegan’s eyes were horrified when he saw what he was looking at. blood trickled from your mouth, falling off your chin, and your uniform was stained with crimson.

‘kee-’

you tried to say his name, but only half came out. blood spluttered out of your mouth as you wailed in agony. ‘speak to me, y/n, solider. come on, talk to me.’

keegan ripped open his medical pouch, taking out some gauze in an attempt to prevent more blood from spilling out your wound. it pooled around you as you tried to speak. ‘i- i just want to..’

you were appalled at how difficult it was to talk. it was like your vocal cords had been ripped out, and all that was left to leave your mouth were gasps that made your lungs ache. ‘keep going, magpie, come on.’

‘i- i always wanted to.. die, after aja..ajax.. but i just want to- to live.. now’ every few seconds you had to pause your speaking so you could cough out blood. it blocked your airway as if it was trying to silence your cries. ‘i dont- i dont wanna di..die im not- not ready.’

keegan’s hope of you living was slowly disappearing. the bullet was still lodged in your stomach, ripping at muscle and letting its molten heat play with your flesh. ‘you’re not gonna die, im not letting you, im not. youre gonna live, for me and for merrick and the other ghosts and ajax, especially him, okay?’

even though keegan was trying to calm you, he could barely keep calm himself. his breathing felt difficult and forced as he watched the life escape from you. your eyes were still fluttered closed, but tears ran down your cheeks, mixing with blood as they went further. ‘please.. p-please keegan, i dont want too di-’ ‘stop talking like that, youre gonna be just fine, i promise.’

it was a ridiculous thing to promise. oh, how keegan wished he hadn’t said that. he knew. he didnt want to think about it, but he knew deep down what was gonna happen. ‘im not ready, god. god.. im not ready… i wanna.. i wanna..’

‘come on, keep talking to me, please.’

keeping you talking has keegan’s way of making sure you were still awake- that, atleast your body could keep your lips moving with phonics.

keegan felt so weak. wrapping the gauze around you felt like covering your corpse with a cloth. ‘i wanna live.. and be.. with- with you.’

keegan was taken back by what you said, to say the least. his heart thumped against his sternum, as if it was trying to escape. blood mixed with phlegm coughed and spluttered itself onto his balaclava from your mouth, but he couldnt care less.

he tightly wrapped the once white, but now, deep ruby red gauze around your waist. he stared at your face as your lips trembled, his hands tying a tourniquet at the end of the gauze.

‘i.. i wanna be with you too, y/n.’

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

they say hearing is the last sense to go. however, speaking was the last thing you ever did.

‘you re..really are, my living legend.’

[writteninlunarlight-years]

I have an idea if you accept💕

What would the romantic and scary version be like? From the nun! Alastor with reader, where the 7 years that Alastor disappeared in hell, for some reason he was summoned by someone (probably teenagers doing stupid things) and because of that, he was trapped in the radio, of course he took advantage of this to haunt everyone who bought the radio ... Until the Human! reader bought the radio, but what Alastor didn't expect was that he fell in love with her after a while... Just like in the horror film Valak, apart from the romance part, it's obvious! (film: The Conjuring).

Note feel comfortable could be a yandere alastor? If it can't be normal....

Wicked Woman~

(I love this concept, especially if, later on down the line, the reader dies and remembers her life with Al. Please let me know if you would like this as a part two. I followed closely to what you asked but put my spin on it. Hope you all enjoy.)

TW: Dark themes, Murder, Death, Yandere Type Tendencies, Stockholm Syndrome

Alastors POV

Hell was everything I could ask for it to be. After my untimely death by those damn dogs, I vowed to continue my pursuit of power and strength. I entered hell unfathomably powerful, and I will take hell over with this power. I was feared and revered even by the highest class of demons that walked among us. Thousands of poor, unfortunate souls rested in my claws. Even in this prey-like form, I was purely a predator. 

How my name ended up in those damn demon books up top was beyond me; it probably had something to do with the one I sold my soul to for even more power—a damn trick to make me suffer for having power that rivaled those in all of hell. Yet, no one was brave enough to fully summon me or try and control me. I was elusive and would scare anyone who wanted to open ties with me on the mortal plane. However, that was my biggest downfall. In hopes of showing off my immense power and strength, I allowed those up top to know more about me in the end.

Ironically, children sought to summon me more than any damn adult; hell, I even thought cult leaders would call upon me more than this. That fateful day, though, when I was trapped in the radio, was due to some pesky teenage punks looking to harm some poor young girl. I hate people like that, those who prey on the weak, just like my father. 

It was quick work killing those teens off; the world was probably thousands of times better off without them. Yet every time I tried to go back to hell, I was stuck, some weird plan of reality; I was there on earth, but I wasn't. This had to be another twisted game my master was putting me through. It was another joke to show how I was still just below them on the food chain of power.

I knew showing my demon form would be unwise in this place; enough people tried calling on me as it was. While deciding my next plan of action, I heard the sirens coming close to the location of the slaughter. Sighing, I absorbed myself in the radio, hidden from sight and out of mind. Watching the clean-up was entertaining, but scaring the wits out of the police and cleaning crew was far superior. 

Once all was said and done, I learned this cabin was in the middle of the woods, once owned by one of those teens' parents. After the gruesome murders and odd occurrences around the house done by yours truly, they sold it off. This left a gorgeous cabin in the woods empty for me to enjoy. Being so secluded, I could come and go from the radio as I pleased; no need to fear that someone would see me.

This cabin reminded me so much of my home in the bayou with my mother. The woods resembled that of where my father took me hunting, resembled where I ended his life, and countless other horrible humans that got in my way. This place felt like I was living my human life once more with less killing that is.

For a year, I had tried going back to hell countless times. However, I realized till my master needed me, I was trapped here on the mortal plane. Accepting my fate, I decided to give up on hell and take this nice vacation. Who knows, maybe with my time away, I could have new ladders to climb upon my return. Plus, no one would dare to buy a cabin in the middle of the woods after a gruesome murder, where it was deemed haunted. 

I was dead wrong, however, when I heard the noises outside the cabin door. It finally happened on the day that marked the first year of my purgatory on the human plane. Someone had bought the cabin in the woods. I was shocked and almost pleased with this person's brazen stupidity. It's probably another punk kid wanting to do rituals or someone running away from their misdeeds. 

Yet the biggest surprise was the young woman who entered the house with the first set of boxes. She was lovely, kind, and vibrant. She wore a large black hat even though the skies were cloudy gray. Her voice sounded like bells from a chapel, and her smile radiated the sun's light. If my undead heart could beat, it would be beating faster. 

I swore off love at a young age, only courting women when it allowed me closer to targets that I needed to kill. Once in hell, I just killed to kill, no need for love or emotions. Yet this woman lit something within me that was to be feared and hated. 

As the days passed, I watched her unpack her boxes. I learned she was a Wiccan, finding joy in the dark and light of all things. I knew she knew I was there. She could feel me lurking in the shadows and hovering around. No matter how often she saged the house, I stayed, an entity far surpassing her mortal purities and spirituality. However, I would hand it to her; her spiritual prowess was strong.

I tried relentlessly to scare her off; I had a rule about killing women: unless they were evil, I would never lay a hand on them. So, all I had going for me was scare tactics and horror. Convincing her, I would eventually kill her. A few cuts and bruises here or there from a broken floorboard or a throwing knife. She never budged, though, a smile on her face as she said a prayer and went on with her day like I hadn’t just hung knives above her head. 

Months had passed since she joined me in this cabin; she cut firewood early in the morning, would come home, shower, cook food, go out to the town an hour away, and then come home and relax or pray to her deities. She did not care about my existence; the more I became attached to her, the more she didn’t care or fear. She took to calling me Shadowy, a stupid name but chosen purely due to me refusing to show her my proper form. I lurked in the shadows, only allowing that to be seen. Sure beat her first name for me, Radioy; humans suck at naming things.

Sitting at two years trapped in the mortal realm with a woman I was growing fond of wasn’t my ideal step in the process of unlimited power. However, I was more content trapped here in this cabin as long as it was with her and her alone. She would bring men over, enjoy their company, and send them on their way. They never made it far, though, having accidents as they returned to their place. Even when she left the house for the night to see them, I knew exactly who they were. 

By year three, she had stopped dating, growing frustrated with my senseless killings. The police had shown up at our door countless times to question her involvement, only for them to fade from existence as well. She stopped going outside much, only cutting firewood and grocery shopping occasionally. As much as it pained me to see her light diminishing, it also fueled a sick, sadistic part of me. 

I enjoyed watching her more; now that I didn’t have to worry about others popping up, I began showing her my proper form. A slight sense of pride swelled in me as she became pleased to witness my deer-like looks. Though I hated my looks, how she fawned over me, almost forgetting all my misdeeds towards her, was pleasing. I allowed myself to indulge in daily life with her, I stopped trying to scare her or kill her, and we fell into a semblance of domestic life. 

Once year four came around, she was tied to the house after interacting with a hunter in the woods. I would go out and kill her meat and anyone on our land. I would bring her wood and sustenance with my face covered in the blood of those who dared to try me. Eventually, she, too, became okay with this method of mine, and I was thrilled. I had my perfect human right here just for me. 

I taught her how to dance and cook meals my mother once taught me, showing her the joys of good Southern cooking. Though I could not process the cooked meals I showed her, I knew feeding her and making her strong was all that mattered. I gained plenty of sustenance by killing off anyone who came close to her. I gained sustenance by watching her fall more into me and my spell as I fell more into hers.

 Year five came around, and I had her clung to me; she was mine and mine alone. She gave up on her deities and only worshiped me. Fueling the God complex I already had, I swore to make her mine; no other man or demon could take her. She was powerful spiritually, and she would be vital in her death when she joined me. 

I began teaching her how to kill and maim those who entered our woods. I taught her how to murder and never be caught. In the beginning, she was horrible. I had to end a lot of police lives, yet she grew stronger as time went on. Soon, she was as notorious of a serial killer as I once was. The woods covered our tracks, ensuring we were hidden from the eyes of others. Oh, how I wished when I was alive that a spirit would assist me like this in my kills. 

In year six, I knew she was as strong as I was when I fell to hell. I made her so perfect, molding her to my ways. I knew when her time came in death, she would find me; my Doe. She used her spiritual powers to assist me in breaking my binds to my master. Though nothing ever seemed to work, she was persistent. I was proud; I understood why pride would be such a sin. Watching her work her powers and drain herself for me was delicious. 

This year was the year I finally claimed her. I took her and made her mine, not just in thought or word but in mind and body. I would not allow anyone to ruin my hard work. She was perfect, and she deserved me as I did her. We were bonded in a way that transcended soul bonds or mortal relationships. We were unstoppable.

This knowledge alone is why, come year seven, I felt the shift in my presence. I knew it was coming to my departure from her world. My master was calling me back to hell, threatened by the perfect morsel that I had created. My master knew I would be unstoppable if I followed my plan to convince her to die, to join me in the afterlife as one. This alone is what sent me back to hell, the fear I struck in the one I had controlling me.

I knew when it was my time to perish, she would join me here, and we would rule hell side by side. No one would stop that—no contract, no princess, and certainly no king. Though I enjoy the hotel and the people I have met there, I know my power only has room to grow. My doe would make quick work of anyone who dared to take her from me. She was left on earth to grow stronger and stronger to benefit me in her death. To help me rule all of hell. I would be unstoppable and grow immensely in all dimensions and planes of reality.

Oh, and my power will grow; it will grow when my wicked woman joins us in this fiery blaze…

[extra-stout-stories]

About / Index of Stories

Writer. Fat4fat switchy feedist and mutual gainer. Believer in fat liberation and responsible hedonism. IRL smallfat in pursuit of a sustainable balance between real life and my wildly kinky desires.

I'm here to share my fiction and have interesting conversations about the kink. I love to receive feedback, story suggestions, and thoughtful platonic messages about this endlessly fascinating thing of ours. DMs and anon asks are welcome; you can find my responses to asks at #ask extrastout. Minors DNI.

I'm a lifelong feedist who's been active in the community in the past. I'm taken by a partner who's fat but not a feedist, and this Tumblr is a outlet for this part of myself. Cishet male, but I follow inspirational bellies of all genders.

This account replaces @cigarette-smoking-bird, which was shadowbanned by Tumblr. As of May 2024 all my content from that account has been reposted here and @cigarette-smoking-bird has been deleted.

I reblog and signal boost frequently, so if you want to set notifications for my original content but don't want to be overwhelmed by reblogs, follow @extra-stout-content.

Index of stories below the cut. I write in a variety of genres and themes from wholesome to extreme, so please read the content warnings.

Stories

A Cat's-Eye View - A cat watches his human owner slowly give in to her desire to become fatter. (XWG, BBW to USSBBW, non-explicit, light romance. CW: Description of furniture breakage.)

Buffet Date - When fatphobic tourists with a dark secret interrupt a lovely dinner date, an SSBHM defends his lover from both social and supernatural hostility. Part three of the series that began with "Werewolf / Sweater Weather" and continued with "Full Moon." (SSBBW, SSBHM werewolf, buffet stuffing, romantic but no explicit sex. CW: Exhibitionism, protagonist is victim of fatphobia, werewolf-on-vampire violence.)

Contrast / Gift - A hedonistic fat queen receives a package with a very special gift. (USSBBW, fit male FA. CW: Explicit sex and cunnilingus.)

First Date / Creepy Cookies - When a BHM in Florida decides to take the plunge on a long-distance relationship with a witchy SSBBW FFA in New England, their first IRL encounter goes even better than he expected. (BHM to USSBHM, magical rapid weight gain, SSBBW feeder. Romantic, but spicy and mildly explicit. Lots of sexy descriptions of food. CW: Immobility, mobility aids.)

Full Moon - The couple from Kinktober 2023's "Werewolf / Sweater Weather" enjoys some bedroom fun on their favorite night of the month. (SSBBW, SSBHWW -- that's "big handsome werewolf." CW: The fine line between desire and fear; explicit sex, but mostly implied rather than descriptive.)

Immobile Weekend - When a feedee agrees to try a weekend of bedroom roleplay, he enjoys it even more than he expected. (BBW feeder, BHM to USSBHM feedee, XWG, romantic vibe, spicy but no explicit sex. CW: Immobility, mild discussion of health issues.)

Leashed / Hologram - In a near future where remote communications technology is just a little bit more sophisticated, you're a greedy fat pet with a stern but loving master. (Second-person feedee POV, gender-unspecified feedee and feeder, size-unspecified feeder. Mildly explicit with implied sexual intercourse. CW: Pet play, dominance.)

Marshmallow / Bondage - A fat dominant feeder and her even fatter submissive enjoy a night of bedroom fun. (SSBBW, USSBHM, femdom/mommy domme, orgasm denial, food play, light impact play. CW: D/S with roleplayed dubcon, immobility, bariatric equipment, cunnilingus and orgasm.)

Special Delivery - As a growing gainer's mobility diminishes, his regular delivery order takes an unexpected turn. (SSBHM to USSBHM feedee, gender-unspecified fat feeder, no explicit sex. CW: Immobility, bariatric tube feeding, brief moment of dubious consent.)

Stuck At Work - When two fat fast food workers end up in a tight situation, they discover that their feelings for one another are mutual. (Romantic soft feedist meet-cute, nothing explicit.)

The Weight Clinic - A fat man who's unsure about losing weight signs up for a very unusual treatment program led by a dominant doctor with an agenda of her own. (SSBHM feedee, SSBBW feeder, implicit XWG. CW: Dubious consent, drugs, medical and deathfeedist elements.)

The Weight Clinic: The (Brief) Return of Dr. Moore - Everyone's favorite mad scientist returns to introduce Feedist Kinktober '23. (Second person feedee POV, gender neutral. CW: Immobility, bariatric equipment, self-indulgent metafiction, threats of a terrible fate if you don't reblog my stories.)

Werewolf / Sweater Weather - On a secluded rural homestead, a man brings a meal home for his mate. (BHM, SSBBW, wholesome romance, non-explicit. CW: Wolf-on-stag violence.)

Short Vignettes

I post a lot of short vignettes, but I usually don't bother giving them titles or full descriptions. They can be read on the #feedist vignettes tag. I haven't put content warnings in the header of these short ones, but they're generally not too extreme. If you see something on this tag that you don't want to see and would like me to put a content warning in the tags, just shoot me a DM.

For my own reference, I've made a list of some of my more popular short vignettes indexed by title or first sentence, but check the tag because this isn't all of them.

"The Beach" (BHM, SSBBW, non-explicit)

"Fat tradwife of an equally fat husband" (What it says in the title)

"I can't believe I did it again" (First-person feedee POV)

"I can't believe I've done this to myself" (First-person feedee POV)

"It's not just about getting turned on by gaining weight" (Second-person feedee POV, wholesome feedism)

"Most people don't get turned on by food" (Second-person feedee POV)

"Needy, Greedy" (Soft domme, second-person feedee POV, mildly explicit, gender-neutral)

"Not Fat Enough" (BBW feedee, dominant USSBHM feeder, stuffing. CW: Consensual power exchange.)

"Plump Little Tummy" (First-person feedee POV. CW: Immobility.)

"Reblog if you're into soft XWG" (My most popular post)

"She gazes up at her reflection in the ceiling mirror" (USSBBW, breeding kink)

"That Little Bit Fatter" (Second person feedee POV, wholesome feedism, SFW.)

"When the outside world sees you, they don't see self-discipline" (Second person feedee POV)

"You didn't expect all the fun you could have with your fatter belly" (Second person POV)

"You never thought you would go this far" (Second person feedee POV)

"You used to stay fit for contrast's sake" (Second person POV, mutual gaining)

[modanisgf]

022. THE FAIR (WRITTEN)

wc— 1.8k

prev | next | masterlist

unfortunately hyein wasn’t lying when she said the friend group would be at y/n’s house at 11, the latter groaning when her doorbell rang.

y/n chose to lay down on her couch a bit more, jumping at the sound of someone banging on her door.

“yn open up!” hyein yelled, making y/n jump up and run towards her door.

she opened it moments after hyein’s outburst, the girls hand raised to knock once more.

“hyein, you cannot be serious. my neighbors are gonna think i left my child out on the porch.” y/n says, making her friends laugh.

“you took too long to open the door, i said eleven.” hyein says, rolling her eyes.

“yeah what if a reporter saw us out here?” ni-ki continued, making y/n sigh.

“can you just go in the house while i finish packing?” y/n says.

the group nods, all of them taking a seat in y/n’s living room while she finished getting ready.

they started quietly talking about the fair—

“so what exactly is your master plan hyein?” sunoo asks.

“we send them on a food run together while we go on a ride." hyein says, examining your living room.

"and you're sure that's gonna work?" ni-ki asks in confusion.

"well if it doesn't then we just abandon them." hyein shrugs.

"oh!" danielle says.

"i mean to be honest that sounds like a plan, if we really want them to get closer." sunoo says, nodding.

"see! sometimes in life you have to be brutal." hyein says.

"that is not the same thing.." danielle mumbles.

the conversation dies out as you walk down the hallway, your backpack seemingly filled up. you had a bad habit of overpacking, which your friends knew but they still liked to tease you about it.

"are you staying the night y/n?" ni-ki asks, causing you to roll your eyes.

"shut up, you'll be thanking me whenever one of you realize you don't have something." you say.

"anyways lets go, my drivers outside." you say walking to the door, your friends following in pursuit.

—

the five of you finally make it to the fair, your driver finding a hidden parking spot. all of you get out the car moments after parking, your eyebrow raising at hyein looking around.

“what are you looking for?” you ask, confused.

the other three give hyein a look, receiving a nervous smile from the girl.

“see i might’ve forgotten to tell you one small detail—“ hyein starts.

“what?”

“i invited hanni’s friend group too..”

“hyein.” you say.

“look, i needed you to come with us! i know you’re like scared of hanni or something but it’ll be okay i swear—“ hyein rants, making you sigh.

“hyein i’m not scared of her! we just don’t have an amazing past so i avoid her.” you say.

“so basically you’re scared of her.”

“…”

“well um, on the bright side look who found us!” danielle says gesturing to hanni’s friend group approaching you five.

you didn’t miss the surprised look on hanni’s face when she saw you, her face brightening in your presence. for some reason you had this conception that hanni still didn’t like you, even after your talk you had on the phone. but this seemed to eliminate some of your suspicions, you wanted the look on her face to stay in your mind forever. she seemed so happy.

“hi y/n!” hanni waved, going to stand by your side.

she interlocked your hand with hers, a gesture that made you smile even though you knew it was probably only because of your arrangement.

“hi nini.” you said, noticing her smile grow wider at the nickname.

either hanni was really good at acting, or she was just extremely happy today. she was smiling at everything you said or did, but you couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

"okay let's go!" gunwook announces, all of you following him towards the entrance.

a couple of security guards followed you all, you assumed them to be hanni, gunwook, and matthew’s as they had appeared with them.

it sucked you all couldn’t just hang out alone, but it was better to be safe than sorry. it wasn’t public knowledge that you all were there yet, so the group waited in line at the entrance.

meanwhile you were scrolling through social media, a koreaboo tweet about you and hanni popping up on your feed. you opened the tweet to be met with hanni’s weird fan, averting your eyes towards her.

“hanni have you seen this tweet?” you ask the girl who was now clinging onto you.

she looked at the tweet briefly, sighing at it.

“no? that’s really weird though..” hanni says.

for some reason the tweet made you angry (more or so jealous), but you didn’t want to acknowledge it so you scrolled on.

the line finally moved, allowing your group to check into the fair and enter. the fairground was huge, rides and food stands everywhere. everyone looked up in awe at the place.

“so where are we gonna start?” minji says, extending the map she had in hand so everyone could see it.

you all decided it would be best to eat after you went on rides, so you all slowly toured the area. you and hanni walked at the back of the group, still hand in hand looking around.

hanni started swinging your hands as she looked around like a kid in a candy store, making you smile. maybe you were right a bit ago, you really did like her.

“oh my god yn!” hanni gasps, causing you to turn.

she pointed out a go kart area to the group, everyone ahead turning around to see.

“guys let’s go on the go karts!” hanni announces.

“oh hell yeah!” riki, gunwook, and matthew said, the three of them running towards the entrance.

hyein followed after them dragging haerin and danielle along with her, “come on!” she shouted to the rest of you.

the four of you left made your way to the entrance, the line being rather short allowing you to get on the ride fast.

“hey uh.. how many people are you guys with?” the line operator asks, looking at the sea of people bunched together.

“uh like ten?” matthew says hesitantly.

“you serious?” the line operator mutters, to which riki nods.

the older man sighs rubbing his temple, “alright the last person just left, how about all ten of you just fill the karts up.” he says.

matthew nods turning back to shout, “let’s go!”

your group files out into the ride area, each of you entering a go kart. there was one issue though, there were only nine go karts.

and unfortunately for hanni, she was the odd one out.

“where am i supposed to sit?” hanni says, looking around.

hyein perks up, “why don’t you just go sit with y/n? it can’t be that unsafe right?”

“it can be very unsafe.” you deadpan, making hyein roll her eyes.

“just let your ‘girlfriend’ in the go kart.” hyein says, turning away to talk to danielle.

you sigh, unbuckling yourself to let hanni on.

“where am i sitting?” she asks.

“on my lap?” you say, confused.

“huh?!”

“there’s no like extra room beside you?” hanni asks in a panicked state.

“no hanni it’s a go kart?” you say, raising an eyebrow at her reaction.

meanwhile, hyein and danielle were eyeing the two of you.

“oh hanni definitely likes her.” hyein says.

“a lot.” danielle points out.

“does that make you uncomfortable?” you ask bluntly.

“i mean no it’s just—“ hanni says, rushing to defend herself.

“it’s fine i get it, come on i’m not going on if you aren’t.” you say, taking her hand and exiting the ride.

hyein and dani gasp, “this is going so well!” dani says, hyein nodding.

—

you and hanni decided to eat while the others finished up on the go karts, the two of you sitting at a table side by side.

hanni was searching something up to prove a point to you, “see! there is a call of duty world war one.”

“really?” you say, looking at her phone.

“damn i could’ve sworn there wasn’t..” you say sheepishly.

“hey guys!” you both hear a familiar voice call out to you, it turning out to be gunwook.

the rest of the group followed after him, greeting you two.

“we’re thinking about going on the ferris wheel next, you guys down?” riki asks.

hanni nods, “i’m down, what about you yn?”

you hesitate for moment, knowing you didn’t do well with heights. but your mind changes when you notice hyein giving you a look, to which you sigh at.

"yeah sure." you say, hyein cheering.

"okay let's go!" hyein says, leading the group with danielle.

as you approached the ferris wheel you felt extremely nervous, what if you embarrassed yourself in front of people you weren't familiar with? or even worse.. hanni?

your fears only seemed to heighten as everyone worked out who would be going with who, hyein talking everyone's ears off.

"i think it would be best for us to go in fours." hyein starts.

"but we're ten people?" minji asks.

"oh then just have someone fit in with another group, and have two people go." hyein responds, the rest nodding.

"how about me, hyein, minji, and haerin?" danielle asks, the rest nodding.

"so me ni-ki, gunwook, and matthew then?" sunoo says, the rest nodding.

'this cannot be real.' was all that ran through your head at that moment, it became apparent to you now that your friends had been setting you up this entire time.

there was no way this was a coincidence--

"so that leaves hanni and yn!" hyein says, trying to hide her smile.

the glare that you gave hyein could kill, the girl simply ignoring it and getting into the cart with her group. sunoo's group got in soon after, leaving just you and hanni to get into the next one.

it was nothing but awkward silence for a while, you would talk to hanni but you were too scared shitless at the way you guys slowly rose up.

"yn are you okay?" hanni asks, noticing the way you couldn't take your eyes off the ground.

"yeah i'm doing amazing." you say quickly, not missing the way hanni tries not to laugh.

"i'm sure you are, but if you need someone to hold onto i'm here." hanni says, regretting it seconds after.

"huh?!" you exclaim noticing how close you were getting to the top.

"nothing!" hanni says quickly.

this was nothing but the most embarrassing moment of your life, you were almost twenty years old and scared of a ferris wheel-- infront of your crush.

as you finally reached the top, you never have felt more scared in your life. your cart made a sharp drop causing you to hold onto hanni.

"yn are you okay?!" was all you heard, before your vision went black.

you woke up on hanni's lap on a bench, hyein's face being the first thing you saw.

"so how'd you like the ferris wheel yn?" she asks.

"never put me on that again."

a/n— if this is ass its bc i had no idea howbto end it 💔💔

TAGS 🏷️ (CLOSED): @jayjj7 @haerinsloverr r @aribunnu @masuowo @multiliker @winieter @sewiouslyz @edenzeepy @popasi @home2venus @ghstvr @technicallyimportantsweets @he------len @yukianism @yeetaberry127 @haechansbbg @linnnsworld @sixflame438 @emotionallyrin @gtfoiydlyj j @inosfavgf @rvoulte @hotluvlet

[cottonlemonade]

A Simpler Life [Part 2]

word count: 1621 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.

[part 1]

Kita‘s steps quickened when your house came into view, his eyes searching the veggie patch for your straw hat but nothing. His shoulders drooped but he was glad to see the tomatoes doing well.

Maybe he should just knock and ask if you could spend dinner again together but he decided against it. You were probably busy or had better things to do. A light went on in your house and through the window he saw you lean over a small table with a mirror, applying some lipstick. From the little he could make out you wore a pretty black dress that hugged your curves so beautifully, his thoughts were temporarily disconnected. He had to swallow. You were going out. Looking down at his own dirty work clothes and touching the sweaty towel around his neck he let out a deep breath. Just as well. And feeling like he was being intrusive with his stares he continued his way home. As he walked along the dusty road, he remembered a seemingly endless discussion the twins had with Suna back in school that he was close enough to overhear. They talked about leagues and how Suna clearly was not in the same one as a girl he fancied. Back then Kita didn‘t quite understand what they meant since their volleyball team was amongst the best. How much more successful was that girl‘s team that Suna shouldn‘t even talk to her? But now it started to make sense. Rounding the bend, he entered his courtyard and spotted his dog on the porch, eagerly sniffing a familiar looking bundle.

But he had dropped it off this morning, he was sure. With a frown he walked over and picked it up. A note was tucked underneath the knot. “Seems like I made too much again - oops! Could you take this off my hands, neighbor? Y/n“

The bundle smelled heavenly and feeling the disappointment subsiding ever so slightly, he carried it inside.

The next couple of days were the same. He would walk by your house, maybe catch a glimpse of you through a window, sometimes he could talk to you for a few minutes when you were in the garden but unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to outright ask for your company and since you didn’t bring it up either he concluded that first time had just been a slip of your tongue.

But every evening without fail he came back to a new bundle of goodness, still warm, waiting for him on his porch under the watchful eyes and nose of his dog.

A new note accompanied each delivery and they already formed a small stack in his dresser drawer.

Every morning he would then drop off the cleaned box and bundle by your door, the same words as his first message written neatly on a sheet of simple, pretty paper.

“I tried a new dish with a recipe from one of the grandmothers in town. I hope you like it! - Also a quick question to a professional: I think my strawberries are dying. Their leaves are all crunchy and no matter how much I water them they seem to wilt. Thoughts? - Y/n”

He got up even earlier the next morning than usual and headed to his smaller greenhouse that kept some fruit and veggies he liked to have growing year round for his own personal use. After swiftly filling a basket with strawberries, he made his way to your home to drop them and the bundle off alongside a detailed note on what could be done about your plants before he headed to work.

“Kita-saaan!“

The young man stood up, looking around to see who called for him.

His stomach flipped when he saw your lovely figure standing on the road at the side of his field, waving. Today was another scorching hot day. You wore a light summer dress and your straw hat that he found so endearingly bewitching. He returned your wave and held his breath when he saw you pushing your bicycle along the narrow trampled dirt path between the neighboring field, obviously not bothered by dirtying your sandals a little. He waded out of the rice paddy to meet you.

“I ought to be mad at you.“, you said as a way of greeting him and he stopped short. Then you reached into the basket of your bicycle and took out a small bag.

“Those strawberries must be worth a fortune and there were so many of them, I can hardly finish those by myself.“

He relaxed and began to breathe again. You had cut some of the strawberries into bite-sized pieces while others topped freshly baked pastries. Lastly, you took out a glass bottle of milk, dyed slightly pink by the strawberry puree gathered at the bottom. “Do you think you have time for a short break?“

The pastries were, of course, delicious. He didn‘t expect anything else from whatever you prepared at this point. But as you two ate in the shade of a tree his mind was trying to figure out how to ask you about the other night. About you in that dress.

“Are you alright?“

He looked up from his cup of milk and met your eyes.

“What have ya been up to this week?“

“Hmm, nothing much.“, you said, spearing one of his strawberries on a skewer and pushing it between your lips. He could watch you enjoy his produce for hours, would happily spend the rest of his life feeding you just to see that blissful look in your eyes.

“I went to a friend’s birthday in the city. Let me tell you, even though I haven‘t been here long, I already missed the peace and quiet as soon as I got out of the taxi. It was the right decision to move. I‘m… so much happier here.“

He was pretty sure he had never been this relieved in his whole life. Looking at his cup of milk again he tried to hide a smile. “I‘m glad to hear that.“, he said.

Comfortable silence stretched between you like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I was wondering…“, you said eventually, “if you‘d like to come over for dinner again. Of course, if you‘d rather have the evening to yourself th-“

“Yes.“, he interrupted, then cleared his throat and continued, “That sounds great. I‘ll bring by the materials for that planter and set it up for ya.“

He was rewarded with another of your dazzlingly bright smiles.

The wheelbarrow gently wobbled over the many rocks and divots on the dirt road leading to your house. In it wooden planks as well as extra soil were stacked expertly and six little sugar snap pea starters were swaying back and forth on top.

When he arrived you were already waiting in your front yard, dressed for work, saluting when he halted. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts again.

“Alright, where do we start?“

“This‘ll only take 10 minutes.“, he waved you off.

“But if I help it might only take 9. Or… 30, depending on how much I slow you down.“

Kita laughed.

“Okay, but ya‘ll need gloves. The wood could splinter.“

“Oh. I don‘t have any.“

He reached into his back pocket and took out his pair, holding it out to you.

“What about you, though?“

“I‘ll be careful.“

It really didn‘t take long to connect the four pre-cut pieces with each other. Kita drove the long nails efficiently into the wood while you held the planks, trying not to get too distracted by the muscles in his shoulders and forearms. How could someone be this kind and generous? And handsome! And single!? Were the women in this town blind? But then again you did bring down the age average quite significantly…

“Y/n-san?“

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He held his hand out to you. For a confused moment you didn‘t know what to do and just took it. And Kita… he blushed.

“I asked for the other nail, please.“

“Oh my gosh, yes. Sorry. Uhm, here.“ You hastily pulled your hand away, your face burning bright red, and handed him the next nail.

Soon you were filling up the space with the soil he brought and planted the little starters. Using bamboo sticks and twine a makeshift trellis was quickly added and you stood up to admire your handiwork. You grinned and took off his gloves, holding up your hand for a high five.

When he raised his right you squinted and took it in yours.

“You did get a splinter!“, you scolded, “Man…! Come on.“

And you dragged him inside.

Kita thought he might explode at any second if you kept touching him. After carefully washing his hand and holding it under a steady stream of lukewarm water you pulled him over to your couch and asked him to keep his hand under the light of a small lamp on the side table. Rubbing down a pair of tweezers with some sake from your pantry you knelt in front of him, bringing his hand so close to your face he could feel your warm breath tickle his skin. It was quite maddening. Never had he felt such a strong desire for action. His whole body was tense like a taut bowstring. He held his breath while you worked, soft careful fingers rubbing and squeezing his calloused hand. He didn’t even notice the sting when you disinfected the spot after. But his skin burned when you applied a bandaid, gently smoothing out the corners.

“All done.”, you announced and got up to put the supplies away. He let out his breath, flexing his hand.

art: coloring done by @keiko-chan

[part 3]

[ladyluscinia]

"What if it weren't like that?"

...or I'd like to propose a different theory of what's going on in Edward's head.

Going into the S2 finale, I feel like there's once again a huge consensus that Edward and piracy are an unsustainable mix, and he has to quit. Specifically after 2x07 he knows for sure, 100% that he wants to quit, and he's pulling away from Stede because he doesn't know how to communicate that certainty to him.

There's a very established meta framework backing up this belief. It's not new, just everyone pointing and saying "look! - the show is affirming us" at the same time. And it does make a lot of points about foundational trauma, the violence of the lifestyle, etc. I don't need to break it down for you. If you're seeing this post then you've seen the arguments before.

The thing is... I'm not actually sold on this read.

Edward is a complicated guy and I love to try and peel back his layers, and I'm not sure that retirement is truly his endgame. And maybe more importantly... I'm not sure retirement endgame is quite the thematic crescendo it's being presented as.

So let's talk a bit about Edward, particularly in 2x06 and 2x07.

---

Edward's Ongoing Depression Spiral

The thing about backsliding - and the Kraken was a pretty monumental backslide - is that even if you gain a lot of ground afterward, you still might not be much further than where you started.

Edward believing change is possible with Button's 2x04 guidance + his & Stede's conversation about taking it slow at the end of 2x05 are both huge steps for a guy that was openly suicidal at the beginning of the season. However, in the grand scheme of things, he's pretty much cycled back to the dilemma he was facing in S1 - continuing life as it was is intolerable, but he doesn't actually have a solid idea of what he wants. "Stede" is not a real, actionable answer.

In S1, this caused him to run recklessly into extremes of vulnerability with Stede because Stede was doing something different. He tried to metaphorically cut loose his entire history - as a pirate, as Blackbeard, as Edward Teach - and become a new "Ed" with no baggage, who was free to live an endless vacation honeymoon with his new boyfriend. And when the consequences of their own actions came crashing back in - an abandoned Izzy, Spanish Jackie, and Chauncey Badminton - Edward's desperate actions to save Stede turned into over-commitment to a guy he barely knows, a reckless plan to run halfway around the world to escape himself, and then a truly disastrous downturn when that blew up in his face.

Wherever you go, there you are - except Edward hates that guy. Edward's only concrete want so far for the new direction of his life is the one thing that's impossible - to not be Edward Teach.

So now, back to contemplating the same unknown future he was trying to chase in S1, the Kraken Era has given Edward new perspective, for better and worse. (I'm gonna link my rambling BlackHands / Kraken Era thoughts from 2x01 - 2x03 just because.) He's learned caution and is dipping his toes in self-reflection - Stede's love alone is not enough to save him, and his self-loathing has been acknowledged. Reckless pursuit of change without growth was doomed - an important lesson both Stede and Edward have started to learn.

Unfortunately, growth requires looking backwards, and if Edward was already disinclined to that due to killing his dad, he's struggling so much worse now that he's got months of fresh atrocities that he absolutely did not need to commit.

---

Drowning in Guilt

Edward's core trauma that he flashes to constantly goes back to killing his dad that night - something notably not associated with piracy. That guilt is the root of his self-loathing, but Edward is a rather troubled grown man with guilt aplenty, especially after the first two episodes of S2.

In 2x05 Edward starts with a CEO scripted non-apology firmly recategorizing all of his Kraken actions as "whatever that nasty dark stuff was that brought us here... it's in the past", and then his discussion with Stede does not involve too much reflection on why this probation is necessary and drops this gem:

"Oh fuck no. Apologizing? Nah. Didn't apologize for jack shit."

However - demonstrating self awareness / growth - he's also clearly projecting guilt and a desire (that's almost too big to look at) to apologize to Izzy for everything, and then he honestly talks with Fang (who he's known for 20 years!) about how he can not be understandably mad at him, after Fang pushes back on Edward's toxic rewriting of Knife Parade. He even learns to sit with himself!

All of which makes the start of 2x06 so layered.

We open with Edward sitting with himself, looking out over the ocean and stewing in guilt - in order: his dad, the storm, Izzy's toe, shooting Izzy, driving the crew to mutiny - and then the conversation that Edward was haunted by all last episode comes to him. He's back in his leathers - playacting the penitent with the onesie and cat bell got old after a day, and he had never truly linked his probation rules with any of his earnest feelings of remorse. Just a necessary performance to appease the crew.

Now he's himself again, as uncomfortable in his own skin as ever, and Edward Teach apologizes for Izzy's leg. He isn't being demanded to apologize by Izzy (no matter how much he may deserve it). Izzy is fully prepared to pretend it never happened despite the evidence of his body. But Edward wants to - needs to for the babiest step toward his own peace of mind - and so he does.

And then he flees from one guilt and accidentally stumbles into another. Stede has so helpfully pulled all Edward's Kraken treasure into one place, and Edward lampshades it:

"Excellent. A reminder of all my guilt. A guilt room."

Now, Stede has a decent idea here. His "poison into positivity" bit is not bad (and it echoes the language Izzy and Edward used - though I think it's a tossup whether Stede heard about that or if the parallel is purely on a Doylist level). It definitely lifts Edward's mood for the day and pulls him out of his guilt spiral for a bit.

Until it comes back so much worse.

Ned Low. Oh fuck the implications of Ned Low.

So here's the thing. People have rightly observed that Edward broke Ned's record intentionally during Kraken Era. In fact, since he makes the comment about "We got a record to break" after the wedding boat aka the last ship he takes, and Ned isn't coming after him for a tie, presumably he set the new record and then proceeded to break it over and over again. Just to rub it in. Just to really piss the sadist off.

And if Edward's attempt to take the whole ship and crew down with a storm at his lowest point was bad, what he was courting by baiting Ned before the season even started was worse. This is a man who would have tortured everyone on the breakup boat to death when he caught up to them, and Edward was passively planning on letting him do it.

Edward knows this.

Poison into positivity just became "oh shit I forgot I'm the most poisonous thing any of these people have ever run into," and he's just getting started. It's hard to shove it down and brush it off and pretend it was no big deal when Stede starts getting the hot poker to the chest.

He doesn't want to kill Ned because he's not worth the poison, but the poison is already here.

When Stede kills Ned, Edward has already spiraled. He's already got a whole narrative in his head about how this is all his fault, how this is his poison, his guilt, his Kraken surfacing to ruin Stede too.

"I'm not a good person, Stede. That's why I don't have any friends," Edward chokes out.

"It all boils down to this - You're afraid you're unlovable," snarls Hornigold's ghost in the gravy basket.

"I hate myself," Edward realizes.

"Don't do it, Stede. Killing in cold blood" - like I did - "you can't come back from that" - like I haven't.

Edward's guilt is projecting all over this scene. He's made some baby steps toward seeing Stede as a flawed person vs mythical mermaid whose love can save him, but the idealization is still coloring both their views. Stede still hasn't told Edward about any of his childhood traumas or deep seated insecurities, and Edward has continuously avoided putting together that Stede is fucked up as well. He's convinced himself that killing Ned Low is a great tragedy that will permanently scar Stede's previously unblemished goodness in a way that is all Edward's fault, and he's sticking to it despite how completely it does not apply.

Reality has never been much good at breaking through his self-loathing before.

Izzy tries to warn him to give Stede a minute, but Edward doesn't listen. And while there's a good amount of concerned boyfriend in that act, I also suspect there's more than a little self-harm. Edward's spiraling about what he's wrought. He shows up at Stede's door already paralleling this to killing his dad. Of course he wants to be in the blast radius.

Apparently, having sex about it.

---

"Bye-Bye" Blackbeard, See You Again Soon

Last season, when Edward's ignoring his past went poorly, he tried to metaphorically bundle Blackbeard and all his traumas up and cast them into the sea. He was "Edward Teach Born-on-a-Beach," and then "No-Beard" who found folding stuff in prison fun, and then he's kissing Stede and getting excited about picking new, cool names for China, because:

"Our old lives would be gone. Dead. Never were."

Edward, babygirl, that is not how that works.

Now, he's actively backsliding down a guilt spiral, just had ill-advised sex a day after the "take it slow" talk that he's already regretting, and he gets up in the morning, pulls on another goddamn robe, and goes to literally bundle Blackbeard up and cast him into the sea.

Babe you already tried this.

I don't think it's a coincidence that disposing of his leathers signals Edward is back to reckless change instead of intentional change. He tries to make breakfast in bed despite never having ever made breakfast before and explains his twine as a panicked decision. The idealization of Stede is back in force - he chooses now to tell him about the mermaid vision - "fantastic," he describes him - and thanks him for saving his life. (Once again, in times of trouble, Edward is the one offering up rosy imaginations for their relationship that swallow him whole and Stede is shoving his recent childhood trauma flashbacks down to be Normal™.)

In the Republic, Edward does avoid becoming straight up jealous of all Stede's positive infamy, but he's also doing his hardcore all or nothing thing again - this time running away from himself toward a grubby, poor, "nobody" version of Ed (or do we think he's gonna try "Jeff" again?). Jackie calls his attention to how his new life direction (as of 6 hours ago) is not necessarily aligned with Stede's, and - rather than doing something as crazy as talking - he mutters "shit" and heads to the docks where Izzy finds him.

For a guy who felt "Fucking great" throwing away his leathers, Edward sounds kind of sarcastic, even if I'm sure he's feeling just as light as he was on that Naval Academy beach. But Izzy - going through his own shit but still trying to be supportive - opened this conversation with a joke about Stede and I suspect thinks they are talking about putting the "Edward retiring to be with Stede" plan back on the table. (Edward could clear this up, but he's still not communicating his emotions to Izzy.) So Izzy encourages him:

"Maybe you should listen to it."

Edward's face falls, he looks back down at the fishing boat, and apparently gets himself a new job. He just needs to go dump his boyfriend about it. They're simply incompatible, you see?

Edward's a fisherman now. He's gonna sit with himself until he finds a better guy in there, just like Fang taught him. (Don't blame Fang for this 😆 he just wanted Edward to stop talking!)

Now there's a lot going on in the breakup scene, but I want to talk about one statement Edward makes (keeping in mind he's already spiraled all the way into his new fisherman identity):

"I don't even know who I am! Alright, I know I don't want to be a pirate, but you..."

Because, see - I don't think the second part of that is necessarily true.

It's not that Edward doesn't want to be "a pirate". That's what he's using as shorthand (and a way to strongly delineate his new career from Stede: "Fishermen and pirates - they're nothing alike.").

What he's not saying is, once again, I know I don't want to be Edward Teach.

And, babygirl, I love you... but too fucking bad.

---

Better Piracy as a Theme

There's a lot of meta around about how Edward views piracy as a kind of enforced toxic masculinity. How his traumas are woven so thoroughly into his Blackbeard career that the thought of continuing as a pirate is killing him. He has to retire. It's the only way he'll truly be happy as "just Edward."

And I question that framing.

Like... Edward clearly has trauma tied up in piracy. His time on Hornigold's ship appears to have defined his (and Calico's Jack's) fairly fucked up approach to casual violence. His time as Blackbeard has enabled his poor impulses, and he is absolutely sick of piracy as he's experienced it the first time we meet him. That's not in question.

But while leaving is one solution, I think change is another.

In the OFMD universe, piracy is not a stand-in for toxic masculinity. Stede, an outsider, describes it as a "culture of abuse" in the first episode, but it's the culture of piracy where we see openly gay relationships, polyamory, freedom of expression in clothing and presentation, the oppressed having power... to treat piracy as inherently toxic is to deny that the culture of piracy is what gave life to Calypso's Birthday party. Our main characters are pirates.

There is a lot of violence and most pirates are very troubled people, but it's not piracy's fault. That's getting the cause and effect reversed. The "problem" with piracy and pirate culture is that the people coming into it and building this community are already traumatized.

As Edward points out to Stede:

"It's usually something like that. It's often family-based stuff."

(Also the problem might be the pirate Captains, lol. I mean, if you start listing the major drivers and enablers of toxic culture... Hornigold, Ned Low, Calico Jack, Blackbeard. Fortunate, then, that the crew of the Revenge is demonstrating that piracy can also be about workers' unions and supporting each other against your shitty boss while operating in a thriving community. He can play nice or get out.)

Oluwande tells us from the start that people don't choose to be pirates - they get forced into it by terrible circumstances in a terrible society. Piracy is the community that accepts the outcasts, but it can't magically fix them. They have to do that themselves, which our crew is showing can be done.

Stede did not swan in with all the answers, but he gave his crew the space and all the confused-yet-well-meant support they needed to strengthen their own bonds and community. Oluwande and Frenchie especially have been really stepping up in leadership positions. Like, the whole plot of 2x05 was showing they have successfully formed a union and that they will operate as a united front against their captains if need arises. It's so good!

They are living that better culture that Stede wanted so bad, and it's not just our crew.

Piracy influenced by the Revenge crew has been shown as helpful and even desirable to chase.

Hellcat Maggie and the rest of Low's crew don't sail off to get new jobs - they are resuming piracy but this time talking about profit sharing. Anne and Mary, our oh so aggressive BlackBonnet mirrors, retired from piracy together like Edward was dreaming of in 1x09, and what "fixes" them is burning it all down and returning to piracy (rejecting Mary's fears) with their love at the forefront of their minds.

Edward wants to leave piracy behind forever because he has depression and hates himself, but the biggest thing he hates himself for isn't even a thing he did as a pirate. He's pushing back on his Hornigold trauma from the moment we meet him - in fact, I have a whole other meta idea I need to pull together after the season about how he has potentially thought he was doing "soft piracy" in spite of Hornigold this whole time - but the guilt he feels about killing his dad is still too big for him to even look at. And that won't go away even if he could cut 20+ years of Blackbeard out of his chest.

He's bored. He was stagnating. He needs to address that knot of self-loathing before it successfully drowns him.

Maybe people are right and he could be the one pirate to find peace operating a bed and breakfast? Maybe he'll follow in Jackie's footsteps and stay connected to the community by running a gay bar or something?

But I also think, maybe, he has a community surrounding him, a home and love on the sea, and a career with plenty of aspects he did enjoy - sailing, fuckeries, luxuries, creative problem solving - and he might just need to join everyone in striving for a better culture?

And step one would be realizing that wherever he goes, he's still Edward Teach, and he's got to stop running from that fact.

[csuitebitches]

Book Review: Book 1: Stop People Pleasing (a 9-part series by Patrick King, “Be Confident and Fearless.”)

I’m reading a 9-part series by Patrick King, “Be Confident and Fearless.” His books talk about becoming assertive, saying no, not people pleasing anymore and being confident. Generally, such books are quite generic but I found his take on the subject interesting. His techniques to handle certain situations seem to be quite doable too. His techniques have been highlighted in bold.

Book One: “Stop People Pleasing”

A people-pleaser is worried about rejection. They have a need, as we all do, to be accepted and treasured—to be loved. But in people-pleasers, this need is amplified to the extent that they will bend over backward just to not lose that love or acceptance. This is more invalidating than giving an honest opinion.

-

In reality, people-pleasers continued promises and inaction just tick their friends off, as it becomes apparent that they are willing to be dishonest and only say what people want to hear.

-

They’re not really doing what they do to improve someone else’s life—they just want to feel more positive about themselves.

-

Living under the limitations of our own viewpoint, we tend to think everyone in our circle is looking at and judging how we look and behave. At most, maybe a couple of people are paying attention to most of your moves, and they’re likely people you’re already close to who are supposed to know you better than anyone else.

-

When you’re so consumed with the perceived needs of others, you’re not paying yourself any attention. You could be overlooking or ignoring things you need to do to take care of yourself.

-

Avoiding confrontation for fear that it might only make things worse ironically results in the very outcomes it’s meant to deflect. The absence of confrontations doesn’t mean your relationship is all healthy, and the presence of confrontations doesn’t mean your relationship has gone to the dogs.

-

The BLUE model is a specific CBT strategy developed by PracticeWise to help counter negative thinking. BLUE is an acronym that stands for the kind of extremely negative thoughts you should recognize in yourself when they do pop into your head. “B” stands for blaming myself, “L” is looking for bad news, “U” means unhappy guessing, and “E” represents exaggeratedly negative thoughts.

-

What many people-pleasers fail to see is that sacrificing so much of themselves in pursuit of serving everyone else around them is sabotaging their very capacity to continue being there for others when it truly matters.

-

Rejecting an invite is not the same as rejecting your friend and that prioritizing your own peace of mind by just settling into a restful weekend is totally okay.

-

Ask yourself, “What are the things I do to be happy?” or “What are the core beliefs I have about my worth as a person?”

-

Exposure therapy is the process of deliberately placing yourself in situations that cause you fear and anxiety. You’ll need to immerse yourself in your feared situations in a gradual and progressive manner, starting from situations that cause the least anxiety and later advancing to those that cause the most intense feelings of fear.

-

Creating your fear hierarchy. The fear hierarchy is an ordered list of situations that elicit your fears and anxieties.

-

The first habit we must develop is the habit of self-awareness. We don’t understand why we people-please, and we’re not aware when we’re doing it.

This begins with questioning the motives for your actions: “Why exactly am I going out of my way for this person?” “Do I genuinely care for them, or am I just afraid of what might happen without them?” “Would I be doing this out of free will, or am I doing it for someone else?”

Take note of the moment you’re starting to feel internal resistance. When that happens, stop everything and question why you’re doing it.

-

The second habit to cultivate is the habit of personal autonomy. An autonomous person knows what they truly believe and why they believe it. But the differences that you’ve valued your own opinion over that of others. Or you’ve at least valued it equally and not by habit put your own opinion as inferior to that of others.

-

That’s why it’s important to get into the habit of expressing yourself honestly. The more you communicate where you stand, the more people will know where you’re coming from (and what your limits are). After all, people can’t read minds, and to expect others to know what you want is an impossible task.

-

Remain strong under pressure. When you stop people-pleasing, you will face some angry reactions. It’s not necessarily their fault because you have conditioned their expectations. But this is where you must not fold under pressure, like you previously would have. It only takes five seconds of extreme willpower, and it gets easier every time thereafter.

-

How to set boundaries:

1. Determine your core values

2. Change yourself and only yourself. You dont control other people

3. Set consequences of someone else breaking your boundaries. Write down the boundaries you have, the actions others might take that trespass those boundaries, and exactly what you will do when they’ve violated your boundaries.

4. Communicate your boundaries to others in very exact terms. Make sure everybody’s very, very clear on what your limits are.

-

If you tell yourself “I can’t,” you’re simply reminding yourself of the limitations you’ve set for yourself. You’re creating a feedback loop in your brain that tells you that you can’t do something that you would normally want to do.

When you tell yourself “I don’t,” you’re creating a feedback loop that reminds you of your power and control of the situation. You’ve given yourself a line in the sand that takes the situation out of your hands. Your choice was premade to say no and thus you can stick to it more easily.

[gatitties]

Would you ever consider writing a continuation of your ‘Not in my world’ writings?

─ Strawhats, Heart Pirates & Kid Pirates x isekaed!student!reader

─ Summary: you are definitely not made for this world, luckily you have a good protective squad!

─ Warnings: none

Part one / Part three (Kid Pirates)

I have some more thoughts in mind but not many ideas, although I'm open to suggestions with the theme if you would like something specific :')

─ Before you were struggling with the stress of exams, now you're struggling with the stress of this crew, you can't even spend five measly minutes calm because you're already in hot pursuit.

─ Good side, no one knew you and no one seemed to notice you (just like in your class haha…) which got you rid of a 'wanted' poster at least for now.

─ Bad side, you were exposed to a ridiculous amount of dangers from which you couldn't defend yourself (beyond punching or biting someone).

─ Luckily you have a captain who gave you complete security, and when he was being stupid you always had a swordsman watching your back, and if he was lost you had a cook by your side to help, but if he was too busy (flirting) you also had the strength of a cyborg at your side, and if none of them were there to help you only had one thing left…

─ Cry.

─ You didn't underestimate the protection of Nami, Usopp, Robin, Chopper, Brook or Jinbe, but you felt much safer with those four idiots, for no specific reasons, they were the ones who got you out of trouble the most, but you would trust them all with your life.

─ And speaking of crying, it was the best way to deal with all this pressure of the change in the world, even though in your previous life you were not completely happy, the radical change still affects you, Robin was the one who consoled you the most for that and you always come when you feel bad.

─ At least, you left some of your pessimistic thoughts about your future or what was going to become of it, you just have to enjoy the little moments of peace that you had traveling through this world.

─ Sometimes you got a little irritated because everyone saw you as a scaredy cat (which you really were) and they saw you as a baby that they had to protect, you weren't even that little! although you were not going to complain about the protection when you find yourself in trouble.

─ Without a doubt, it was a change of scenery for the better (largely also for the worse) because it helped you forget about things from your old life and rebuild your person, maybe a little change didn't hurt you, but you still feared for your life when side of this team.

─ You definitely get a lot of hugs with Nami and Usopp when something scary happens.

─ Chopper still scolds you for your sleep schedule and has Brook put you to sleep early for your health.

─ Although you have improved your eating schedules and have started eating healthier thanks to Sanji.

─ You also started training with Zoro and Jinbe, not as intensely, just some defense and stamina because you're going to need it if at some point they're not there to save you.

─ It is clear that Law does not make much of an appearance, rather it's his actions that put him so high on the wanted list, he is much more discreet than Luffy.

─ But that doesn't mean that all his demands to keep you in the submarine cause you stress, much less than before, but it persisted in the back of your mind, couldn't he understand you from emo to emo?

─ Luckily, being a student means that most of the time you have to fend for yourself to survive tests, exams, works... without help because good or kind teachers? Nah, that doesn't exist or they're an endangered species, so you pretty much know how to do everything.

─ Or at least learn fast and adapt, you quickly accepted the dangers of the world and most importantly how not to attract attention (it's not like you had done it before), anyway you were learning from the best, Law knew very well how to go unnoticed.

─ The good thing, you took this whole thing as a little vacation, it didn't bother you too much not leaving the Polar Tang, plus it meant less trouble and less fear of someone stabbing you or something.

─ The bad thing, Law was very demanding with everything, he reminded you of a child demanding new toys (surgical material), unfortunately you couldn't disobey if you didn't want to end up abandoned to your fate.

─ From what you know Law is quite strong so you should be around him, the problem is that you are not useful when you get mentally worn out and it seems that if you receive a lot of demands your mind will just shut down and do everything wrong.

─ Of course, your captain will notice and let you rest and urge you to go out for a while when they stop on an island, he will keep an eye on you because he knows that your appearance stands out from the others, he did not have infinite clothes and sometimes you used the outfit with you ended up here.

─ Luckily you always had your back covered, if he wasn't there, Shachi and Penguin would always follow you as a good dynamic duo, they helped clear your mind due to the amount of absurd comments or jokes they told.

─ Bepo is always there for a hug, the best hugs you've ever had.

─ You started some self defense lessons with Jean Bart just for good measure.

─ Law would like to scold you for your bad sleep schedule but he was no one to talk about it…

─ However, he doesn't take long to point out all the things that are harmful to your health, like when you sit like a shrimp causing back pain.

─ You are doomed, if you thought Luffy was someone who made a scandal it is because you do not know this crew, you definitely threw away a long time ago (literally the first minutes in this world) the possibility of ending up in a beautiful or peaceful place, free of anxiety.

─ Before it caused you a bit of discomfort that your classmates didn't count on you with some activities, now you are more than grateful that your presence is like that of a ghost.

─ Kid doesn't care much if you get into fights or if you draw the attention of someone who could hurt you, if you are inside his ship you must be strong, he only cared that you didn't hurt yourself because he didn't want to have to clean your brains from his boat deck.

─ Don't worry about it, Killer has your back, even if he doesn't show it, he feels sorry for you and your unfortunate encounter with his world, because he was the one with whom you vented the most as if he were your own mother, he will do everything possible by talking to Kid so that don't expose you to so many dangers.

─ Kid agreed to be more 'soft' about your weakness since you were useful in many aspects, you know, you're not stupid and you know how to adapt despite being terribly scared.

─ The good side, you were stopped from involving yourself in small crew tournaments, be it wrestling, drinking, or even a little thumb wrestling, not to mention you wouldn't actively participate in anything that required force or violence.

─ The bad side, they started treating you like the most fragile person on the planet (Kid no, he just stopped being less of an idiot with you), you constantly had Heat and Wire as your personal bodyguards but there came a point where it was ridiculous even for you.

─ It's not like you've never felt scared (or harassed) of someone in your other life, not that you were a warrior, but if you had to throw punches, you were going to.

─ This is how you began to learn to fight with Killer, although he didn't like the idea very much either, he accepted because it never hurts to know something about defense.

─ They all agreed not to bombard you too much either with questions or tasks, they knew what would trigger your anxiety and didn't want you sticking any more forks anywhere else in their bodies, Wire was good at calming you down in the moments you were within a second of hysteria.

─ You couldn't determine if you preferred to suffer in your previous life or in this one, but you thought that being here gave you the courage to live that you didn't have before and you believed that you could improve your person now that you didn't feel so much social pressure on you, in a certain way, you were free.