tabzjoynt

[serendipity-adventures]

16 Essential Gadgets for Modern Bus Travels: Enhancing Your Journey

Explore the top tech tips and essential gadgets for modern bus travel, enhancing connectivity, entertainment, and comfort on the go

Introduction In the era of technological advancement, the impact of gadgets on travel is both profound and transformative, particularly in bus travel. This evolution has turned ordinary bus journeys into efficient, connected, and enjoyable experiences. “Tech Tips: Essential Gadgets for Modern Bus Travels” explores a variety of indispensable gadgets for contemporary bus travelers. From the…

[lionheartlr]

Discovering Bhutan: The Last Shangri-La

Nestled in the Eastern Himalayas, Bhutan, known as the “Land of the Thunder Dragon,” is a country that beckons travelers with its pristine landscapes, vibrant culture, and profound spirituality. As one of the world’s last remaining Buddhist kingdoms, Bhutan offers a unique blend of ancient traditions and modern sensibilities. In this travel guide, we’ll explore Bhutan’s history, political…

[violet-eng]

Reuploaded | fem!reader finds out bf!Neuvillette was in Qiaoying Village after the Lantern Rite | NSFW 🔞

This follows the 4.4 Lantern Rite story

Summary: You're Neuvillette's long distance girlfriend as you live in Liyue. After the Lantern Rite you find out he was wandering around Quiaoying Village (where you live) but left kinda angry. So you travel to Fontaine to find out if he's mad at you for dumping him by accident.

Warnings: NSFW 🔞 so MDNI. Established relationship. Dirty talk. Nipple playing, piv, Neuvillette refuses to let you cum, doggy, ah... and he licks you...

Wc: 2.8k

Reuploaded bc I accidentally deleted it 🙃

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵︵‿‿︵ ˚₊

You do not make irrational or spontaneous decisions. You looked at yourself in the reflection of the lake, completely bewildered.

You live in Liyue and eagerly anticipate the Lantern Rite every year. However, that year, you spent a couple of days in Monstadt searching for a location to open a tea branch... 

The Lantern Rite had ended before your return this year, which was a huge disappointment. You missed the main celebration due to work. Additionally, you were shocked to receive Neuvillette's letter late. You had not informed him of your travel to Monstadt. Reading that he would have traveled to Liyue to see you, despite his busy schedule, made you feel guilty and remorseful.

Learning that Neuvillette had been in Liyue only a few hours ago caused you tremendous turmoil. Lady Furina tried to sugarcoat the gentleman's actions, but you know, even with all the nuances of Neuvillette, that he is disappointed.

So when Gaming's father offers you to travel to Fontaine in search of a location for his popular tea store, you don't think twice, moved by the regret of your actions.

It's terrible to think that a love quarrel is the only reason you would leave Liyue. You feel ashamed of the situation you've brought upon yourself. You arrive in Fontaine like an anxious lady seeking forgiveness. If shame falls upon you, it is already too late. You find yourself on the Aqua bus, headed to the Opera Epiclese.  

Your gaze falls on the light blue modern landscapes of the city, which had left you spellbound during your last visit. On a previous business trip, you met Neuvillette, who transitioned from a casual fling to a formal relationship through correspondence and furtive encounters.

Although you have been to this place before, the walls seem unfamiliar, and you are not accustomed to the style and decor. As you enter his office, Neuvillette sits up in his chair.

He looks at you with an unfamiliar expression and says, 'It's late.' The tone of his voice is serious, and his gaze feels like a dagger piercing your heart.

"I know," you say, with your breath escaping your chest. The thought of Neuvillette's trip to Liyue and disappointment at not finding you at home frustrates you. You understand how he feels; if you were in his shoes, you would be deeply upset.

"I'm sorry," you plead, walking towards him and stumbling along the way. This behavior is not typical of you, but he makes you feel so pitiful. "I should have warned you that I wouldn't be home. I had a business trip and... I know you're busy. I shouldn't have taken up your time”.

"My dear" Neuvillette cuts off your words with a warm look and advances towards you, wrapping his arms around your figure, "why are you justifying yourself this way?" His concern is genuine, comforting, his gaze a deep sea of pity and understanding.

"You're not angry?" you ask, your face sunk into his chest, your hands clinging to his back, your fingers tangled in the stitched details of his cloak.

"Why should I be, my love?" Neuvillette leaves a kiss on your hair and soft caresses play down your back, loving rubs on your skin that soothe your so nervous heart.

"I heard you came back unexpectedly from Liyue, and that you seemed somewhat displeased."

He let out a friendly laugh, his voice deep and calm like the sea, his voice dances in the room. 

"You would never do anything to displease me," he whispered into your hair, his lips brushing against your ear and cheek. "And if you ever did, we would talk it over properly. Don't ever think I'm going to be upset with you...What kind of person would I be if I let my emotions guide me? I apologize for any inconvenience my spontaneity may have caused. I understand that you have a time-consuming job, and I would never be upset with you because your priority is your job". He strokes your cheek and lifts your face to join your gazes in a bond of understanding and bliss.

"If anything," he adds, "I'm the one who should apologize." 

"No, don't say that." You said, "It's always welcome a little mess coming from you, my dear judge," you caress his cheek. Then, you add, "Still, I was afraid you'd be wasting your time.

"During my trip, I learned several things. Your village is very interesting, my dear," he said, breaking away from your embrace and walking to his desk. He rummaged in one of his drawers, discovering a small piece of porcelain, a plaque with an engraved figure surrounded by runes.

"This..." you take it in your hands, recognizing the depiction of one of your nation's most beloved adeptic figures. "Neuvi... where did you get this?" you ask.

"I had the wonderful opportunity to learn about various local crafts," he explains with innocent admiration. Your dear dragon has been introduced to a modern world beyond Fontaine for the first time. "I thought you'd be excited about that. Even though it's a trivial detail..."

"My beloved Neuvillette," you rush into his arms, kissing his cheeks with great affection... "Then why did you look so serious when you left? Lady Furina suspected that something had upset you... I thought you were offended that I stood you up. And when I came in, you looked at me angrily..."

"I was worried that you arrived so late, traveling at nightfall is not safe... I told you that you should think more of yourself... I am concerned about your well-being, and your high level of empathy may become harmful to you... though it is certainly one of the aspects that has bound me to you," he says, "On the other hand, my departure from Liyue is due to matters of a higher caliber. Summarized in an old rivalry that I had no intention of taking care of at the time."

All the pieces fall into place perfectly, and you even come to regret thinking of Neuvillette as a curmudgeon. 

"You must be exhausted," he says, taking your hand and kissing the back of it as if you were his queen, "stay with me tonight, rest today, and tomorrow we can go back to your place for the evening." 

His home is warm, warm enough for one who knows little of human customs, and even warmer when he offers you a hot cup. A comforting drink for a long journey. Neuvillette, the oh-so-mighty Hydrodragon, Chief Justice and now ruler of Fontaine, kneels before you as the tail of his cloak ripples like a wave in a graceful movement of his hands. His fingers gently take your ankles between his hands as he removes your shoes, untying the laces with his long, delicate fingers.

His gaze rises to meet yours, his clear orbs reflecting his burning desire to possess your body at this moment, to give himself completely to you for your pleasure. His hands slide over your ankles and knees, searching for the edge of your stockings under your skirt. The warm air of the house hits your thighs as the fabric is lifted and the soles of your now uncovered feet receive the warmth of Neuvillette's body. It's as if his sultry demeanor is flooding the entire room in an overwhelming wave of heat and ecstasy. 

It is as if the dragon is taking control of Neuvillette as you suddenly find yourself in his bed, naked and completely at his mercy. Months ago, this would have seemed like just another encounter, a chance meeting of fate and crossed paths, a lustful night full of forbidden and impure acts, but this time, after countless letters and meetings... it seems serious.

Neuvillette doesn't fully understand human feelings, or the sensations his body surprises him with, like the way his cock swells when he thinks of you at night, or the need to encircle his length when he receives one of your letters bathed in your perfume..... And much worse, he doesn't fully understand the burning that fills his heart when he holds you close, when you look at him with those eyes that are at once fearful and desirous, with an unholy innocence, the dichotomy of your expressions makes him agonize with love, because even though it took him a while, he finally understands that what he feels for you is what humans call love.

That is why he kisses you deeply as he stands over you, crushing your lips with his fervent intention to be reciprocated, to make it real and formal, although your visit has already given him a positive sign. He runs all over you, his hands sliding down the valleys of your body, shaping your figure with his palms, cupping your breasts between his nimble fingers, turning you over on the mattress so that he can enjoy the reactions that run down your spine. His heightened senses are alerted as the current flows down your back, as the skin on the back of your neck rises at the caress of his taut lips on your shoulder blade, the rough sound of his deep voice close to your ear, the warmth of his voice bathing your hearing, filling your head with the chant of his words of pure adoration. 

"Neuvi~" you moan in an icy sigh, overwhelmed by the Iudex's perverse caresses over your body.

"When I knocked on your door and you didn't answer, I thought you didn't want to see me," he whispers against your naked skin, "I began to wonder what I had done wrong..."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Neuvi...ah~".

He kisses your shoulder, sliding his tongue over your skin, tasting the sweat you give off, the salt of your complexion on his tongue, the female poison.

"So delicious," he whispers, sliding down your back, his voice taking over the skin over your spine, leaving wet kisses in his wake and moans of your name as his cock swells more and more.

"I thought you hated me. That from one moment to the next you had stopped loving me," he kisses your waist, leaving faint bites across your curve, using such an informal language...

"I~. Mmhhh..." you moan senselessly. "I wouldn't do that to you..." 

"I know, beautiful," his hands run up your belly, tracing naughty swirls with his fingers, "and for my own good, I will make sure tonight that you never stop wanting me, that you desire me and never anyone else, that the only thing that dominates your mind is the memory of my hands on your body and my cock in your pussy." 

He plays with your hardened nipples, the little buttons straining at the naughty hands of the Iudex, who eager explorers your body.

"Ahg~ mmmm~ Neuvillette..." you mewl as you cling to the sheets that cover the Chief Justice's wide bed.

He shifts your posture as if you were ragged, your body toppled at the mercy of his hands and desires that lift your hips to align with his length. 

The intrusion is slow and hot, stretching your sex to his form, expanding your desire to his hard love, wrapping himself in your wet embrace. The low growl he makes as he feels your pressure on him is opera to your red ears, the guttural moan that comes from his masculine chest is enough to make you wet even more.

"I missed you," he whispers, his shoulders tense and his nails digging into your skin, your hips settling against his, slowly easing into your deep, dripping desire.

His hands run down your back, caressing your waist, wanting to feel every bit of your experience, the cascade of overwhelming sensations escaping your delicate being. He enjoys watching how his cock loses itself inside you and how you wriggle at his relentless invasion. So delicate and so vulgar at the same time...wiggling your hips, rubbing yourself as you let out mellifluous moans and cling to the sheets.

"Neuvi~ I can't," you moan as tiny electric spasms erupt from your center, choking Neuvillette.

"Not so hard," he caresses your ass and thighs, trying to calm you down, "you can hold on, darling."

What a miracle you are in Neuvillette's eyes when he begins to move slowly and you manage to hold him perfectly. When his wandering shock of passion overflows you with the most overwhelming cries he's ever heard. How blissful he is to hear you babble his name as you suck his whole being with hunger and contempt.

"You're doing well, beautiful," his adoration turns to ambition, suddenly sneaking inside you, delivering the first thrust into your cervix, rubbing your knees against the bed.

"Ah!" you stifle a cry as he clasps your hands and rests his forehead on your shoulder, almost lifting your loins.

"Just like that, you're wonderful, y/n," his lips kiss your shoulder as his silver hair tickles your neck and cheek. It's like a sign of affection before the slaughter.

The heat inside you is overwhelming, your mind swirling with every deep thrust of Neuvillette inside you, every forced intrusion of anguish and desire. You cry out his name as if it will free you from the growing flame in your belly, as if it will unchain you from his thick cock slamming unceremoniously against your tight silken walls. You are a provocation, no, you are much more than that, you are the reason he succumbs to the crimes of his lust, his thirst for you. He is guilty of wanting you so much, of longing for your eyes and your body, your voice hoarse with his name like honey on your tongue. And he's a sinner for perverting such a pure angel, for taking your hips and pounding them relentlessly, for tearing strings of shimmering ecstasy that fall down your thighs, for those solid pieces of flesh that vibrate with his every move.

His hand touches your clit and in that moment you become a babble of pleasure, of unseemly moans and erratic movements. He praises you, praises you for how good your skin sounds against his, for the words you spit out between sobs, and freaks out when you beg him to stop, that you can't take any more of him, that he's too big.

"For my precious y/n, everything you ask," his rough voice creeps into your core, forming a steaming knot, "except that...". He just can't let you cum, not when he's willing to keep you at his mercy for hours. 

"Please!" you sob pleadingly. Your voice is clipped and raspy. 

"I need clear instructions, my love."

"Please let me cum," you are pathetic under him, moaning in anguish for a show of sympathy, though he only lets out a bitter chuckle of satisfaction.

"You're too good for me to make you beg this much," he says, quickening his pace, becoming frantic and almost primal, warping your insides and making your body his, crumbling what little sanity you have left, making you contract around him with a scream and cum.

Neuvillette's indiscretion causes him to explode inside you, releasing thick strands into your belly as he lets himself be led into the ecstasy of his madness, losing himself in the swirls of your delirious moans.

"My beautiful y/n," he steps out of you and kisses your forehead, turning your body over and cradling your humanity in his big arms. 

The night is long and when you catch your breath, you discover Neuvillette's predatory eyes peering into the darkness, you like his treasure and he the dragon guarding you.

"Sleep," you whisper, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

"I like watching you sleep," he says, "and smelling you... you have a strange scent.

"Maybe it's the mixture of the soil of my village, the water... and you," you smile, "By the way, when we get back to my place, remind me to offer you some of the local spring water.

"Ah... my precious one. You know me so well that you could cause my own downfall. I had the pleasure of tasting the water in the village, and I am very grateful for your sample. However, I must admit that the spring I enjoy most is between your legs."

"Neuvillette!" you laugh in embarrassment.

"I could eat you all day, y/n," he purrs, dipping his face into your breast, "and yet I would limit myself."

You stroke his hair, the blue strands that creep through his scalp, everything about this man fascinates you.

"Stay at Fontaine," he whispers against your chest, fighting the drumbeat of your excited heart. "I think the new tea branch needs a manager...".

The reality is that Neuvillette would not stand another day of exchanging letters, not when she has tasted you so passionately and cum inside you, not when he is just getting to know these strange and lovely human feelings. He wants to learn to love you as a man would, and so he needs you near him to give you all the love and care that a good lover would give his woman.

[dittolicous]

i feel like if youre gunna do a modern au for one piece, the strawhats have got to be like. the biggest fuckin weirdos everyone knows. not a single one is a legal law abiding citizen. they dont care about being known or w/e but somehow become influencers slash political advocates all across the world. theyre off the grid yet in the way. no one knows what stunt theyre gunna pull next including themselves. they live in a caravan-trailer situation. half of them have phds and also arrest warrents in 60 countries. theyre career criminals and hashtag career goals. they traveled with a honest to god princess. an ex-politician joined them and now all he does is wear hawaiian shirts, drive bus, and punch facists.

chopper is still a talking reindeer

[mandarinmoon]

how i'm studying mandarin (in 2024)

as a low-maintenance language learner working a 9-6 office job, i've been muddling around how to improve my mandarin in my free time and keep it fun! And I've found what works for me (thanks to a lot of lurking on here - appreciate all you mandarin langblrs <3), so wanted to share :)

Evening lessons (or italki) - Self studying is great but I do need a kick up the ass sometimes, so these really help. Plus my teacher is great at giving tips here and there which I probably wouldn't pick up on on my own.

ChinesePod - Their podcasts are really well made and accessible, I can't recommend them enough!

HelloChinese - This is my 'I'm bored waiting for my train/bus but I still want to learn Chinese' option that isn't Duolingo. It's not perfect but it has fairly good grammar explanations and native listening segments. You do have to pay a subscription if you're over HSK1 level FYI.

I am an anki hater first and foremost, so here's the vocab learning / dictionary tools I use instead:

TofuLearn - It's straightforward, uses spaced repetition learning AND teaches you stroke order - so ticks all my boxes. Picked it up due to @marilearnsmandarin's posts about it!

Pleco - Obviously, everyone has it downloaded for a reason.

Yabla Chinese Dictionary - Not seen this one talked about so much, but would recommend! It sometimes has video examples of the hanzi in use, which I find helpful.

A big goal for me this year is to consume mandarin content more regularly! It's all well and good watching Peppa Pig, but I need something that I actively want to engage with:

Bilibili Comics - Currently reading 肉店楼上的工作室 and able to understand a fair chunk, so would recommend as a "easier" option.

Mandopop - Not sure how much I'm picking up from listening, especially at my level, but it's fun to jam out to some good tunes. Faves include TIA RAY, Song Qian, Lexie Liu, No Party for Cao Dong & Shi Shi.

Dramas/Movies - Modern chinese dramas are a lot more hit-or-miss for me, especially compared to historical/fantasy. Recent faves include Accidentally in Love & Stay with Me (on Netflix/Viki). Currently watching Reset :) Any other recs, please send my way!

YouTube - I have a separate YT account just to follow Taiwanese/Chinese creators - it takes a bit of searching but you can find some great youtubers who talk about whatever hobby you're into (whether that's cute golden retriever vlogs, travel vlogs or reading vlogs!)

[undressrehearsal]

right back where we started

summary: ellie is on tour as the opener for a popular band. she begrudgingly passes through the hometown that she had sworn she would never see again and runs into the one good thing she left behind.

tags: some sad stuff, ellie has daddy issues, mentions of alcohol, modern au, not rockstar ellie but that same kinda genre???, no smut in this one sorry this is all setting the scene, this is another shorter one 3.6k words

a/n: listen. I'm gonna level with yall. life's been fucking insane. it's been what 3 months since I posted something?? and it's because 1. my fiancée and I are buying a house 2. and planning a wedding 3. I work 45 hour weeks (at a job I hate so much omg) 4. I'm writing a book and 5. I'm preparing for a p major surgery (I go on tuesday)

so yeah, life's been insane. but I missed writing fics. I'm writing my book so I never stopped writing but writing a lil fun fic just hits different yk?

anyway enjoy and look forward to a few (I'm thinking 3?) parts of this

love yall. reply and lmk if you wanna be added to my tag list. also I'm posting this on my phone so the formatting might be fucked lmk

part 1

Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she had been in this city.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could remember exactly the last time she had been in this city. She had watched it disappear in her mirror when she had driven her bike west three years ago in search of the horizon. She had hoped she would find something more once she got there - more than the dingy dorm room she had loosely called home and the classes that had made her eyes glaze over; something more than playing at the bar’s open mic nights, her guitar hard to hear over the noisy din of drunk students and drunker professors; something more than a future that had been planned for her by the time she was in high school.

Her dad had kicked her out after she dropped out, of course, but that was fine. She had planned to leave that night anyway; she had kept a packed bag hidden underneath her bed for months. She hadn’t seen him in three years, either, and she planned to keep it that way.

But when she woke up and saw the city outside the bus window, silhouetted against the rising sun, something in her chest rose to her throat and refused to be swallowed back down.

She hadn’t missed it - but as she looked down at her shaking hands, Ellie figured her body must not have gotten that memo.

The band she was traveling with were still sleeping; she could hear the singer snoring in her bunk, could see the bassist's leg sticking out into the aisle. She had never been a morning bird - back at her shitbox apartment, you'd rarely catch her up before noon - but something about being stuck on a bus for days made her restless. It was her first time touring - after three years of playing at open mics and taking small jobs singing at the senior center - and she wasn't used to feeling her own bed constantly shifting beneath her.

Which is how she always ended up pacing the length of the bus, tapping her fingers against her thighs as the confined world around her slept, waiting desperately for the driver to pull off to whatever venue they had booked. She wasn't sure what the band did before their shows in the evenings, but she didn't stick around long enough to ask. Maybe it was rude, but she couldn't force herself to hang out with the band who only chose her because their usual opener had “flaked” on them - which was how they described it when the opener couldn't travel with them for several months after their mother had just died.

So, yeah, Ellie couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it when she rushed off the bus as soon as it parked, not even sticking around to let the band know where she was going. They wouldn't care either way. Hell, they were probably so hungover they wouldn't wake up until their show started in several hours.

The driver - his name was Zachary (never Zach) and he was the only one who paid her any mind - helped Ellie hoist her bike down from the rack on the back of the bus. The band had teased her about bringing it, bitching about how it showed she didn't want to hang out with them. She had been tempted to tell them they were right, but she couldn't really risk losing the first real gig she’d gotten. She lifted the seat and dug her helmet out, waving to Zachary as he disappeared back into the bus to get his own well-deserved rest.

The purr of the bike was a familiar comfort beneath her. Lowering the visor of her helmet to block out the sun, she squinted at the streets sprawled before her. She realized, with dizzying familiarity, that she was in the next neighborhood over from her old apartment. Hell, she had watched a few shows at the venue she was playing at - something in her stomach clenched.

Fuck, she needed coffee.

With the wind cold against her bare arms, Ellie let the world fly by, the city waking up around her. Her phone remained snuggly in her bag; she didn't need directions here, the familiar streets leading her down well-worn paths, winding all the way back to a life that was no longer hers.

It was muscle memory that led her back to the coffee shop she had frequented as a student. She looked up at it, a glow around its worn brick from the rising sun, and something tightened in her chest. They had replaced the patio chairs - the old ones had been practically falling apart three years ago - but otherwise it hadn't changed.

Ellie cursed under her breath, swallowing around the foreign lump in her throat, and climbed off her bike. When she took the steps two at a time, it felt like somebody else had taken the wheel. It was a familiar stranger that opened the door.

The smell hit her first. They say that scent has the strongest tie to memory, and the smell of burnt coffee beans hit her like a punch. There had always been a sweetness underneath it, something she had never been able to place but thought might be honey? When she stepped up to the counter, she could even smell the milk they were steaming.

The barista - a young girl with faded pink hair tied up into space buns - looked up from her phone and said, in a voice teetering on the edge between cheerful and bored, “How’s it going?”

Ellie took her in briefly, noting the brown corduroy overalls and the star-shaped nose ring, and was comforted knowing that this place was just as queer as she had left it. She would bet money on the fact that if she peeked over the counter, this girl would be wearing beat up Docs. She was young enough to be a student - probably an English major, if she had to guess.

She always ordered the same thing - iced mocha with oat milk. She had never understood why her dad drank his coffee black.

The barista - her tag said Dianna She/Her/Hers - eyed her as she rang Ellie up, brows quirked. When she smiled, dimples caved her cheeks. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a student?”

Ellie fought the urge to groan - this girl was just trying to be friendly (and was probably trying to decide if Ellie’s flannel meant she was gay or was just a bad fashion choice), but the last thing she wanted to do after failing to sleep on a bus and waking up at the ass-crack of dawn was to make small talk.

Still, she smiled and said, “I used to be.”

She paid and stuffed the remainder of her cash into the tip jar. When Dianna thanked her, her cheeks were as pink as her hair. Ellie could feel her eyes lingering on her as she walked away, nodding awkwardly in thanks.

This place really hadn’t changed in three years. The coffee shop had a reputation of students writing all along the walls - over a decade ago, they had simply stopped trying to paint over it, so the walls were littered in signatures and drawings and claims of call this number for a good time. Scattered poetry was written along the edges of the windows, an incredibly detailed Sharpie drawing of a cat peeking over the top of the doorway. When she searched for it, she found that her own scrawled handwriting was still there, small letters where nobody would think to look, right underneath the thermostat: Find me where the sun sets east. Don’t forget me.

She swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her and stepped away. Her eyes stung from sleep deprivation and nothing more.

Ellie scanned the room and found that, to her annoyance, nearly every table was taken. Students huddled around notebooks and laptops, engrossed in their work or else on Netflix to avoid studying. Professors blinked wearily, clutching their own cups of coffee as though they were lifelines holding them to this realm. Ellie could see the spot she had frequented herself - a booth tucked by the window, where she could write her songs in a dingy notebook without anyone looking over her shoulder.

Now, there was a guy with his cheek pressed to the cold surface, snoring lightly.

Ellie jumped when Dianna called her name, holding out a cup so filled with coffee that it trickled over the side and down the glass. Ellie took it gingerly, holding it in careful fingers to not spill any more on the countertop.

Dianna held onto the cup for several seconds longer than necessary, her fingers - cold from the glass - lingering on Ellie's. When a crooked smile pulled at her lips, her brown eyes sparkled. There was a teasing tilt to her voice when she said, “I hope to see you around, Ellie.”

Ellie gave her what she hoped was a friendly smile - judging by the way Dianna’s cheeks bloomed pink, she must have succeeded - before turning away. She almost felt guilty for the relief she felt when she found there was no phone number left on her glass this time. She was never sure whether it was nicer to ghost somebody or to send a gentle rejection through text, and she did not have the energy for that decision.

She turned, searching for an empty seat to slouch in and try not to fall asleep into her coffee, when her eyes found you.

You hadn’t changed a bit.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. You had changed - anybody would in three years. You had changed your hair, and now you dressed differently than she remembered - you used to bitch so much about how you couldn’t dress how you wanted, and now, looking at you three years later, she was happy to see that you were finally dressing like all those pictures you had saved in your little Pinterest folder of “outfit inspo.”

Ellie could see the mark of three whole years, but truthfully, you hadn’t changed. You were slouched over a laptop, leaning way too close to the screen, and you still had that pinch between your brows when you concentrated, the one that she used to run her thumb over; she could still feel how soft your skin was beneath her fingers.

She should have ignored you - she should have gone to slump in a corner of the coffee shop like she had planned, trying not to fall asleep into her cup and pretending to not notice you even as her eyes kept cutting across the cafe to find you again. She should have pushed the memories away just like she had pushed away all of the other memories associated with this city - hell, she should have never come back to this city in the first place. There were too many memories here that she had spent three years, a thousand miles, and an ocean of whiskey running away from.

And yet Ellie found her feet carrying her over to your table of their own volition. She walked the tightrope between who she is and who she once was, chasing a memory of the only good thing she left behind.

You didn’t look up at her as she approached. You kept your head bowed over your laptop, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. There was no reason for you to look up - Ellie could have been any nameless stranger coming to bother you when you were clearly just trying to work.

But Ellie had never been good at leaving well enough alone. Which is why she hesitated for only a moment before reaching out and tapping lightly on your shoulder. She had to bite back a laugh when you jumped, pulling your headphones from your ears and swiveling around to look up at her.

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t do an embarrassing acrobatic jump when you met her eyes. And she had always been a terrible liar.

“Hey,” Ellie said, trying her damnedest to keep her voice steady; she only somewhat succeeded. She cleared her throat, lowering her voice when she said, “Remember me?”

Satisfaction bloomed warm in her stomach when your eyes widened, taking in the sight of her. Truthfully, she must’ve looked like shit; she had had to take a disturbingly brief shower at the last rest stop - the water apparently didn’t get any warmer than antarctic - and she hadn’t looked in a mirror for a few days. She had forgotten to pack her brush, so her hair must have been standing up at odd angles. And God knew what the lack of sleep was doing to the ever-growing shadows under her eyes.

But none of this stopped you from running your eyes down her body, cheeks pink when you finally looked up to meet her eyes again. And Ellie couldn’t stop the slow smile that spread across her face, her own cheeks growing warm. It wasn’t intentional when her voice dropped another octave, nearly a murmur when she said, mostly to herself, “Yeah, you remember me.”

“Holy shit, Ellie?” You jumped to your feet, a smile pulling at your lips as you gripped her arm. The familiar shine in your eyes did something funny to her stomach that she was way too stubborn to name. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was just, uh- just passing through town,” she found herself saying, rubbing at the back of her neck. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but explaining to you the actual reason she finally came back to this hell-hole town suddenly seemed daunting. “Wanted to check out some old haunts, I guess.”

And then you just… looked at her, for several long moments - long enough to make Ellie squirm. Your eyes bore into hers, searching for something that she had buried three years ago.

You jumped, and whatever spell that was floating between you broke when your phone buzzed from where it still sat on the table. You scooped it up and flashed an apologetic smile to the glaring student a few seats away. Swiping at the screen, you cursed under your breath:

“Fuck, I have to get to class.” You looked back up at her again, a question behind your eyes, and Ellie had never wished so hard that she could read minds. You hesitated for only a moment before saying, words rushed, “Do you want to walk with me?” Before Ellie could respond, you continued, picking up your cup and fiddling with the straw, “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you and I want to catch up. But you’re probably busy, so you don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” she cut you off, trying to smother the smile that pulled at her pink cheeks. She failed drastically when you smiled back at her.

After asking for a to-go cup from Dianna - thankfully no number written on the plastic cup either, despite the way the barista eyed Ellie as she left - she followed you out the door and back into the blinding morning sun. The mid-October air bit at her cheeks, creeping under her flannel; the cold coffee in her hand made her fingers sting, but you were already walking away, so she grit her teeth and followed.

And it was like you both just fell back into place, aligning with each other as though that empty space had never existed. You were working towards your graduate degree, Ellie discovered, and were working as a TA to get through; the class you were heading to was the dreaded public speaking class that you taught around your own curriculum. You laughed as you talked about some ridiculous speech a student had recently presented, and Ellie had forgotten just how much she liked the sound until it was burying behind her ribs again.

Ellie didn't tell you exactly why she had come back. When she’d left, you had known she was chasing a dream - it was the main reason she had presented when she broke up with you. The idea of long distance was too hard - too complicated - and Ellie didn’t want anything tying her to this town.

Even so, her body still wanted to fall into old habits. She told you about her roommate and how, when Ellie had been up too late writing a new song or her roommate had had a late shift at the hospital, they would play truth or dare until they were too drunk to stay awake, and her fingers brushed against yours, muscle memory making her reach for you. Ellie told you how she had visited her sister, Sarah, while passing through Houston, and she wanted so badly to lace your fingers together. She wanted to wrap her arm around your waist - hell, she even wanted to grab your ass right where everyone could see, just like she used to. She tucked her free hand in her pocket.

“You still haven’t told me why you came back,” you said, coming to a stop in front of the Communications building - it was just as tall and ominous as Ellie remembered. Her stomach lurched at the site, remembering all the speeches she had to make in her own classes. She supposed Public Speaking wasn’t a useless class now, considering she didn't stutter when she had to speak in front of an audience now.

Ellie shrugged, dropping her cup into a trashcan without looking at you. “Like I said, I’m just passing through-”

“Bullshit,” you said, but there was no malice behind it. You tilted your head to meet her eyes and smiled at her, even as your eyes held something unreadable. “The Ellie I knew couldn’t wait to get out of this shithole - her words, not mine. She wouldn’t simply pass through - she would go out of her way to stay in the next town over. So,” you crossed your arms, “what changed?”

Before, if you had ever crossed your arms at her, Ellie would reach out and gently pull your arms away from your chest, pulling you into an embrace. She wanted nothing more than to pull you into her, instinct unaware of the three years and a thousand miles that had separated you. Instead, she leaned against the wall of the building, the brick biting into her back. “Nothing’s changed. Trust me, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here.”

For only a second, your face twisted into something unreadable that pulled at Ellie's stomach. But you quickly schooled your expression, tilting your head, your smile soft. “Listen, I have to go - if I'm too late, these fuckers are just gonna try to skip. But we should meet up later - I want to catch up.” When Ellie opened her mouth to say you had been catching up, you continued, “Really catch up. I want you to tell me everything - it's been years, so we have a lot to cover.” You looked at your phone and cursed. “Look, my last class ends at 3:25. Meet me on the green after?” For good measure, you stuck out your bottom lip and added, “Please?”

Ellie had never been good at resisting that look - she had given into you so many times from that look alone. She had to bite back the sudden, stupid smile pulling at her cheeks, so she pressed her lips together and looked away. After three years, you still made her cheeks flush without trying.

“Okay,” was all she could say.

Without warning, you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around her neck briefly. Her hands hovered at your sides, unsure of where to go. Feeling your body pressed against her again - feeling the warm brush of your breath against her neck - short-circuited her brain, leaving her gasping on dry land.

Before she could figure out where to put her fucking hands, you murmured in her ear, “I really did miss you, Els,” and pulled away, just as quickly as you had come. Ellie's mouth hadn't even caught up to her brain by the time you were gone, the door closing softly behind you.

Later, after she had had a proper breakfast from McDonald's, she was still thinking about you. Seeing you again had opened up a bottle that she had sealed away, and the cork wouldn't fit back into it. Her fingers itched with the memory of your skin beneath them. When you had hugged her, she had smelled the shampoo that you apparently still used, and she remembered how it had felt to have your head on her chest, breathing you in as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. And your lips next to her ear - that opened a whole subcategory of memories that she tried desperately to push away.

She was only here for the night. She lost count of how many times she had to remind herself.

Ellie was stopped at a red light, leaning her bike from one foot to the other, when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She glanced at the blinking crosswalk sign - twenty seconds, so she still had plenty of time before the light turned green - before fishing her phone out. She had to squint against the sun, straining to make out the screen. She nearly dropped the phone when she saw the familiar name popping up on her screen, fumbling to open the text.

There was a screenshot of an Instagram post from the venue she was going to play at. The band's name was in bold letters, stars pasted around a grainy picture of the group. And in small letters underneath - like an afterthought - was her name: Ellie Miller.

And underneath, in all caps:

YOU'RE PLAYING AT THE HAWTHORNE?????

Her face flushed all over again. After all these years, you had still kept her number.

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight

[noyasmashing]

hear me out... noya gets dommed by his partner who is SOMEHOW shorter than him. (bonus points if he booked them a love hotel. like they spent the whole day traveling and sightseeing in tokyo only for his partner to find out his horny ass booked them a love hotel for the night.)

oh anon, as someone who is 4’11, I LOVE this idea. also my first time writing more than just a hand/blow job so sorry if it’s bad 😓

I’ll try to leave this gn reader since you didn’t specify gender! mentions of the readers “cock” but can be interpreted as a strap! (plz keep the requests coming i need more motivation)

You and Nishinoya had been dating for a year now, and he was eager to escape the rural area of Miyagi prefecture and explore new sights with you.

So, when you suggested spending a night in Tokyo and booking a hotel, he was thrilled! He insisted on handling the hotel booking to spare you the stress, but of course, there was another reason behind his eagerness.

After taking the bus to Tokyo, you spent the day wandering in and out of charming shops, picking up souvenirs and trinkets that matched your unique interests.

As the night drew to a close, you and Nishinoya enjoyed a romantic candlelit dinner, feeling content and ready to unwind in the comfort of a hotel bed.

As you hailed a taxi, Nishinoya quietly directed the driver to a specific location, causing the driver to chuckle. You eyed Noya suspiciously, but he avoided your piercing gaze, pretending to look around with curiosity.

The beat-up car halted to a stop in front of a rather sleek hotel, its planters and greenery framing the modern exterior. The streetlights illuminated the taxi as the two of you stepped out, carrying your overnight bags.

"Yu? What is this," you asked suspiciously, placing a hand on your hip, catching onto the situation at hand. He swallowed nervously, looking down at you.

"I-I... well, [name], I just wanted to spend a romantic night with you," he confessed, hoping to soften your reaction. To his slight surprise, you replied with a smirk as the two of you ducked into the discreet entrance.

Less than ten minutes later, you had him pinned against the door of your room, his hands clutching your shirt as he nervously looked down at you.

"Did you book this so you can be as loud as you want?" you asked in a seductive voice that made his knees buckle. Instead of replying, he half nodded, embarrassed at his own reasoning.

Without hesitation, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. Noya responded eagerly, by moving his body closer to yours, practically climbing on top of you.

You pulled away way with a trail of saliva following, “You’ll be excited to see what I brought.” You told him mischievously.

Walking over to your bag with him trailing behind, you pulled out a bottle of lube and his favorite toy. His reaction was adorable with his face flushing red in surprise letting out a small whimper.

With a breathy, "Please," He moved closer to you once again. You couldn't help but let out a sadistic giggle at his reaction.

"Wow, are you already begging?" you teased playfully, holding the bottle of lube and toy in your hands.

Noya's embarrassment turned into anticipation as he watched you with eager eyes. "I-I just... I want tonight to be special," he stammered, his voice betraying a mix of desire and nervousness.

You smiled, appreciating his vulnerability and enthusiasm. "It will be," you assured him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips before moving to his ear, "I’m going to ruin you.”

You led Noya further into the room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light. The ambiance was perfect for what you had in mind, and Noya's bashfulness only fueled your desire further.

His spiky hair was now tousled as he lay on the heart-shaped pillow atop the circular bed that you both would be sharing for the night.

At this point, he wore merely a shirt, and his well-defined thighs were widely apart, exposing his cock, that oh-so desperately wanted attention. You chuckled at his vulnerable position, comfortably seated between his exposed legs, exclusively for your amusement. His faint "be quiet" response elicited a gentle coo from you.

He exhaled a surprised gasp as your two fingers, coated with the cold lubricant, gently penetrated his tight hole.

“N-not so fast [name]… we have all night after all.” He reasoned with a shakily voice, fearing he might reach climax too soon if you were too hasty.

"You won't be able to think straight once I'm through with you," you retorted sharply. A hint of disbelief was present in your tone, as you questioned, "Did you truly believe you could secretly book a love hotel without me finding out?" Your fingers, now more assertive, continued their rhythmic movements within him.

He instinctively tried to close his thighs, an attempt to escape the intense stimulation. However, you were swift in preventing that, maintaining control. His response was a feeble, " 'm sorry, please... slow down, slow down or I'll-" His words were cut off as a wave of pleasure overtook him, causing the white liquid to leak from his poor cock onto his abdomen.

"Hmm, already cumming without my permission?" you inquired, detaching your fingers from his sensitive area, drawing a whine from him. Before he could utter an apology, you replaced your fingers with your member, silencing his words with a moan of pleasure.

His hands clung to your shoulder, his voice filled with desperation as you continued your relentless pace. "Too much, it's too much!" he cried, his back arched as you skillfully hit his prostate. Despite the exhaustion in your thighs, you continued your harsh pace not giving him a break.

He could sense tears forming on his eyelashes, an almost unbearable sensation accompanied by intense heat. His inner world was being invaded, as each thrust triggered his prostate.

You grinned, feeling a sense of accomplishment. In your view, it was a breathtaking sight. His eyes struggled to stay open, tears brimming, lower lip caught between his teeth. His legs twitched, hands tightly grasping the sheet. Oh, what a stunning spectacle it was. You couldn’t resist degrading him once more, “How is it that you tower over me, but right now you look so small?”

Leaning into your teasing words, he nodded, moans dripping from his lips as saliva filled his mouth, his mind not processing anything but pleasure.

You gripped his soft thighs and lifted them, transitioning to a missionary position. He felt the increase in your rhythm, his breath catching as he exclaimed, "Ah- gonna cum!"

However, just as he reached the brink, you abruptly pulled out, leaving him feeling empty as hot tears poured down his cheeks. He cried out a pathetic “noo”, his flushed erection twitching in disappointment.

"You can't expect me to do all the work. Why don't you ride me for a bit, yeah?" you directed in a husky tone, acknowledging the long night ahead.

[junosmindpalace]

Hi, loved your last dcst headcanons, so here's another idea.

We all know that they the team travelled by ship the most. Well, how about a modern AU, characters (Ryusui, Senku, Tsukasa, Ukyo, any others you like) taking their s/o /friend on a trip?

Like, method of transport, why would they decide to do it, what will they do at the destination. If that's not too specific, of course.

hi there! thank you for your request! i love imagining the dcst characters pre petrification in modern era  !!

SENKU:

When Senku suggests trips, they can be mostly last minute and pretty unexpected.

He’s mostly hush hush about all the details as he plans it, which is evident when Taiju found out last minute about his plans to go to Africa. 

It’s almost the same for you, but with a little bit more of a heads up so he knows how to prepare. 

Nevertheless you’re still caught off guard when he randomly suggests or asks if you’d want to come on a trip somewhere with him, usually motivated by an experiment or scientific curiosity. 

As for the destination, I think it depends. We know he’s not below just keeping his locations to some place locally. Dude is traveling all over the world on impulse.

So you’re really trying your best to predict whether or not you’ll be flying over to the next continent or taking a train ride when Senku suggests a trip. 

Method of transportation also depends on the destination. Again, if it’s somewhere faaaar far, plane is the way to go. If it’s within the country, however, you’ll mostly likely be taking some trains. 

The destination itself, no matter what it is, is also something that will always leave you surprised. Whether it’s some remote place or a museum or whatever it is that is the source of Senku’s curiosity, most of the time Senku is going with a clear idea of what information he wants to get. So he’s primarily focused on that.

But he encourages you to find amusement for yourself, too, and would absolutely love it if you helped him with his research. 

RYUSUI: 

Hou boy, where even to begin with Ryusui and travel. 

Method of transportation is obviously the first thing I have to talk about; you’ll be traveling first class, absolutely luxuriously, no matter where it is you’re going. Could be a ten minute trip into some place locally and you’ll still be getting the best accommodations money can buy.

Whether it be on a plane, train, or bus, or one of the Nanamis’ personal jets and helicopters and what not, you’ll be smooth sailing (literally and figuratively) the entire way. Ryusui might also be pretty eager to take you on his ship once it finishes, so be prepared for some eager talking and insistence to come along with him, and even more eager captaining. 

The destination itself, similarly to Senku, can be pretty spontaneous, or at least it seems that way to a lot of people. He’s quite used to suddenly springing up trips he wants to take; he probably has the means to up and leave whenever he wants. 

But no matter what it is, he always encourages you to tag along with him with a boisterous laugh or a solemn expression, depending on the goal of his visit. No matter what, he loves commanding his ship and showing you all the fascinating things he’s learned about them in the time he dedicated himself to its art. 

Again, similarly to Senku, the trips are often motivated by a sudden desire to do, see, or obtain something that he isn’t able to with his own two eyes or hands within the country. And as Ryusui wants to act on his desires as soon as possible, most of the time he gives staff a day to prepare pilots and vehicles. It’s also time he gives you to consider his offer of tagging along. 

Seems a bit unfair, but Ryusui always brings you back in one piece! And you may also find some fun in his eagerness to include you in his activities.

TSUKASA: 

Probably the most normal when it comes to traveling. As in there aren’t any insane locations or high end accommodations. 

The most frequent kind of travel Tsukasa generally does (or suggests for you to tag along on) is to the hospital where Mirai resides, or to MMA fights and related interviews. He probably trusts you enough to see those vulnerable parts of him, and it may also contribute to some sort of comfort he feels when he gets lost in his head and heart full of hard feelings and thoughts. Having someone he cares about just standing by the corner and giving him a small smile helps ground him and offer a small smile back. 

That doesn’t mean trips are limited to these occasions, however. Most other trips would be dates; nothing too high end, but still fun and heartfelt events that pop up locally. And of course, if there’s a specific place you’d like to visit, Tsukasa is more than happy to come along no matter what it is. 

Unless you receive accommodations for interviews and scheduled fights, most of the time the two of you will either be taking the train, driving, or walking, depending on where it is you’re going. Tsukasa loves walking through parks and beaches with you the most. 

UKYO:

Don’t know how much time he’d have for traveling, generally speaking in terms of his work, so they might be sparse/few and far in between. 

But just like Tsukasa, trips would probably be more casual and planned out a little more compared to Senku and Ryusui’s seemingly impulsive and loosely structured trips to wherever for whatever. 

Ukyo probably intentionally plans bigger trips like day outs or overnight trips around the available time he has off from work. He looks forward to getting to spend some time with you doing something fun and interesting. 

He would probably want to plan the destinations alongside you, too. The itinerary is carefully compiled together, but not too rigid as to cause stress. They’re usually anywhere and everywhere; cafes and restaurants never before visited, parks and scenic routes, and perhaps some stores in between. He’s more than happy to tag along to anywhere you want to go. 

Mode of transportation also depends on where you’re going, but like Tsukasa, the most frequent modes of transport are driving, by train, or by walking. Though he hates getting stuck in traffic jams, so public transport and walking are usually his go-to’s.

No matter where it is, though, Ukyo is just happy to spend some time with you, especially if your separate responsibilities have been keeping you apart.

[valeovalairs]

Smiles, here’s a Legend of the Riptide Pirate AU character lore dump (slash info about them just compiled into one place)

Chip

The “Riptide Pirate”

Uses his bandana to appear alive and eternally 19, despite being undead and being an actual skeleton at this point.

You know that meme, how do you do fellow kids? That’s how I envision Chip in this AU. He desperately wants to still appear young and cool once he meets the girls and warms up to them but he is an old man in a modern world. My guy is struggling.

He is very sad.

He kept the Albatross busy and alive with people for a very long time, at least a good hundred years, until it became too painful and he stopped letting people on. That’s when he became more of a legend, when he retreated into the shadows.

He still hangs out in Zero. He tries to spend most of his time there because he wants to enjoy what time he has left with Ollie, but sometimes he’ll get restless and go off on the Albatross.

He has grey streaks in hair- because when he realized Jay and Gil had both started greying and looking older and he still looked 19, they all got really sad and he gave himself grey streaks and said, “look, we match now.” There were tears.

Ollie

He’s alive!

He is a very very old man though. Like maybe even 200ish probably (half-elf’s can exceed 180 which is probably for them what 70 is for humans).

He did travel a lot with the Riptide Pirates in his adulthood, but eventually settled in Zero.

Chip still comes to visit him and his family, who know him as “Uncle Chip”. A lot of them also traveled with the Riptide Pirates at one point or another while he still had a crew.

He has dementia:( Sometimes he’ll see Chip and ask where Gill and Ms. Jay are and it hurts Chip every single time.

Jay

Guys she’s dead, I’m sorry.

She traveled on the Albatross for decades before retiring/settling (with who, idk, but I do really like clockwork/birdbolt wives, so with Ensa maybe?)

I don’t know if she had kids (definitely not bio kids but maybe she like raised some kiddos at some point idk)

She still would join Chip and Gil occasionally on the Albatross until she physically could not anymore, and then Chip would visit her.

She died of old age.

Gillion

He’d dead, but I don’t know what happened to him.

I mean it’s Gillion Tidestrider do we really think this guy is going to live his entire possible 200 year lifespan? No. Because it’s Gillion Tidestrider. He’s going to die heroically in some way. Maybe it’s before Jay, maybe it’s after, idk. But he was too slow. That’s what happened he’s gotten older and one day he was too slow. 

Fnc? Im more leaning towards this au being one sided fnc on chips side but there is for sure a whole other kind of angst potential for fnc being an established thing in this au.

Phoebe

The Ferin!

A descendant of one of Jay Ferin’s cousins. (The Ferin’s feel like a big family too me, one with lots of cousins and twice removeds and stuff like that)

One of her parents, the not Ferin, was never too fond of the Ferins practices and so they tried to keep Phoebe distanced from them. (This included the name thing but they caved and allowed her to be called Phoebe May Ferin) And her Ferin parent agreed, despite having been in the Navy themself, that their family was a bit intense.

The family has pushed her to the point of joining the Navy academy, and her family wasn’t given much of a choice, so she was sent off.

She’s heard about the Riptide Pirate, through stories- but her favorite part is that one of his earliest companions was also a Ferin. She hears rumors that he’s still around, being spotted at various docks and Zero.

She decides to risk it and run away, looking for the Riptide Pirate. She escapes the evening the Champion is in the city as all attention will be on that. She panics when she realizes that the champion is also trying to run away.

She knows how to sail (small crafts) I feel like she’d canoe and paddle and know how to man like one of those tiny sail boats.

She has reddish hair but it’s a lot more mute than Jay’s. She also has darker eyes and a stockier build.

Class wise, she’s a fighter, I think. I’m not one hundred percent sure.

Edyn

Edyn is also still alive!

She’s “The Champion’s” grandmother

I think she never returned to the undersea, and ended up settling somewhere on the surface. She ended having kids. The Undersea found out about this, and at someone point sent some people up for them, and offered the kid (now an adult) money, status, community, as long as they returned to the undersea. All they want is for them to sire a child to be “the chosen one”, someone from the same lineage as the original. They like seed some distrust in their head and it turns into a whole argument with Edyn and they never speak again.

She hears about the Champion coming to All Port as part of some diplomacy delegation, several months before, and she really wants to see her granddaughter, get to meet her, so she ends up getting a job for the place they’re staying at as like a maid or an attendant or smth under a different name, and no one suspects anything of a sweet old lady. And they end up promoting her to serve the Champions room because a) sweet old lady b) shes a triton and a triton who has never been too the surface will probably be more comfortable around another triton.

Edyn gets to speak to Calypso and reveals first of all that she is her grandmother, and second of all that she is not actually the chosen one.

Calypso

The “Champion”!

The “Chosen One” who is not actually the chosen one! Just a person meant to replace Gillion as a religious figurehead after his “failure” she and most other people do not know this (they pushed Gillion under the rug and waited for people to forget about him before trying again)

She is a Tidestrider

Her thing is mostly the Elders trying to remain relevant in an increasing secular world.

Her training is less strict and started at a much earlier age than Gillion’s, and it followed a lot less combat and fighting and more religious and magical 

She’s literally just for ceremonially purposes, they keep harping about the prophecy and destiny but the elders all know it won’t come to pass for her. She does not.

She goes as part of a diplomacy thing to All Port and there meets Edyn. She had already been discontent with the undersea and uncertain of her place and she had thought about the possibility of leaving but Edyn finally sows the final seeds of distrust and she leaves- Edyn helping by creating a distraction and letting her slip out the window.

She realizes she has no idea of where she is going until she meets Phoebe. They put the dots together and once Phoebe understands she offers to bring Cal along with her, to join the Riptide Pirate. She follows.

She has a crown of coral that looks a lot like Gillion’s but it’s a crown that she can take on and off. It’s not real.

She has lighter hair than Gil and she has a more willowy build (she is also taller than he was)

Class wise, I thought about her being a paladin, but with there being less focus on combat and being a holy warrior, I think she’s a cleric (my heart is telling me she’s a cleric)

[sgiandubh]

Sordid

Sordid means plagiarizing other blogs' rhetoric, introducing coffee and ibuprofen and God-knows-what, in order to keep your older, parochial audience hooked.

Sordid means spending an entire night frantically scouring other blogs, from across the entire dash, for things to take onboard and pathetically twist to fit your idiotic agenda. Because I am still on my mandatory end of posting leave, I could witness it in real time. The number of sock accounts created by the person, in order to do so, is clinical.

Just an example: I was expecting the Rolodex metaphor to pop in that long post. I was not disappointed. She took it onboard.

Sordid means playing with dimwits' minds and introduce logical fallacies such as: "I did not say I had evidence, I said I KNEW". Anything but owning one's shit and simply saying "I was wrong". Being wrong happens to everyone.

Sordid means twisting your underwear in order to demonstrate things like being a sugar baby is not being a prostitute, but simply having 'arrangements with certain wealthy men she knows and that's how she travels the world'. I howled. This is rock-bottom pathetic and she knows better than any dictionary...

....or than one of the top 5 Spanish dailies (a very serious one), for that matter:

[Source: https://english.elpais.com/society/2022-10-17/sugar-dating-the-romanticized-face-of-prostitution.html]

I know many things about human trafficking. There is nothing la-di-da about it, there is nothing glamorous about it. That gay BFF? Either her pimp or the pimp's vigilante. Nothing more, but nothing less. That woman is a legit, unapologetic hooker.

FYI, not having intercourse with the sugar daddy, but accepting money for companionship, can and is still construed by many as prostitution. The only concrete difference is a legal loophole benefitting sugar dating:

[Source: https://boldlatina.com/not-sugar-coating-the-truth-on-sugar-dating-escorting-and-prostitution/]

It is 'light prostitution'. Nothing less:

[Source: https://www.hopeforthefuture.at/en/sugar-dating-a-modern-form-of-prostitution/]

Sordid means finding excuses for the inexcusable. Of course he called JJ - they have a consistently documented collaboration history.

In the process, the *Ur Troll's laborious and verbose demonstration managed to throw everybody under the bus. C, who was compared with her in the guise of an excuse. S, who emerges as an idiot. And the woman herself.

Finally, sordid means calling out shippers, the usual suspects, who consistently rebuked your bullshit for 10 years, now. This is conveniently absurd.

[lionheartlr]

Discover Bangladesh: A Comprehensive Travel Guide

A Brief History of Bangladesh Bangladesh, located in South Asia, has a rich history that dates back to ancient times. The region was known as Bengal and was a significant cultural and commercial hub. Over the centuries, it saw the rise and fall of several dynasties, including the Maurya, Gupta, and Pala empires. Colonial Period In the late 16th century, the region came under Mughal rule, which…

[kastalani123]

Having Mr D thoughts.

What if he's like. Extra Bitter about his punishment because:

1) These modern demigods have it so easy, with Camp and Thalia's barrier and the Mist and the monsters' reduced powers and on and on with all of the world's developments

Like, yes, this batch in particular got impossibly unlucky, with two wars and the Triumvirate's bullshit happening in the span of not even a decade, but they still get to go to school. Sure, there's always a monster here or there, but that's nothing in light of having a home where they feel safe and not having to constantly travel because if just one monster finds where you're staying, you're doomed so you have to leave immediately. And the monsters are weaker now, too, because people don't remember and believe in them in the same capacity as back in ye' old days!

And there's always something around, some building or bus or whatnot the demigods can use to their advantage, rather than being stranded on a mountain or in the middle of a forest. They don't even have to hunt, or go hungry for months at a time, because there's food everywhere — sure, there's demigods Fated for some dumpster diving and nights in sewers, but that's a minority.

And the humans around them are better, too! Child protection and the legal system are far from perfect, but for the most part, people won't turn a blind eye to you being tied up and kidnapped, or beaten into a pulp in the middle of the street for stealing.

(Your mother won't be convinced to disintegrate with you in her womb)

(You won't be confused about your very being during your childhood because you must hide from your stepmother, your identity unimportant in face of fear)

(Your aunt and uncle won't be driven to insanity and murder with no repercussions)

(You won't be hunted down since before you were even born)

But also

2) It still isn't easy, and they're still living in pain and dying young, and can the gods (him included) really not do anything about that?

The other gods don't get children in the way he does; they see extensions of themselves, weapons, people ready to take up arms in their name. But Dionysus once gnawed on fabric dolls and wooden teethers just the same as these new demigods, and though it's been millennia, growing up with death on every step leaves a lasting mark — especially when he has found kin in his wife about it.

So he knows: the eight-year-old girl is not stupid, immature, or cowardly for crying upon the first stains on her sword; the eleven-year-old boy is not defective because of a burst of random emotion; the fifteen-year-old girl is not foolish for clinging to her toys whenever she can; the sixteen-year-old boy is not weak for getting hurt and not remaining stoic about it.

He was like that once upon a time, too, and is the point not for it to get easier? Has it really not yet been enough time for it to be easy?

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 6 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, discussions of past trauma, daddy kink, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, slight breeding kink, dirty talk, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, jealous!Steve, overstimulation, swearing, sexual harassment/men being gross, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 9.2k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 6 | honey, hell is when I fight with you

You left Steve’s apartment and made your way home in a daze. After studying the save the date and reading it approximately a hundred times, you shoved it back into the drawer and shut it. You moved quickly after that, your only thought being that you needed to get out of this apartment before Steve got back. You gathered your discarded dress off of the floor, only realizing halfway to the door that you were only wearing a robe. You paused, then scoffed inwardly - Steve probably wouldn’t notice if a few things were missing from his closet, and even if he did, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. That’s how you found yourself pulling a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants out of his dresser, nearly in shock that he even owned anything like that. You pulled them on quickly, hardly caring that they didn’t fit right, pointedly ignoring the fact that the clothes smelled like him - his aftershave, a hint of smoke, and something so distinctly Steve.

You tore out of the elevator and stumbled onto the street, blinking in the bright morning light. You stalked up and down the streets for a while, realizing that you really didn’t know your way around this side of the city - Steve’s chauffeur had always driven you to and from here, and you had never had much of a reason to come here previously. After what felt like ages, you found a bus stop, luckily with a line that would take you back home. You didn’t remember much of the journey home after that - it was all in a blur, the blood rushing through your head making your ears roar, your hands shaking and breathing heavily. 

A million thoughts ran through your mind, forehead pressed against the glass as the city flew past. The image of Steve and Nancy was imprinted in your mind, the text of the invite practically memorized. You felt your eyes burn, but did everything within your power to not let any tears fall. The initial shock was already wearing off, and you found yourself fluctuating through a range of feelings: Devastation. Regret. Sadness. Anger. As the moments ticked by, anger seemed to be winning. 

You felt like an idiot, an absolute fool for not considering this as a possibility. Steve had felt too good to be true, and it’s because he was. It explained so much, really - why he rarely talked about home, evaded questions about his personal life, why he traveled so much for work… were those trips to other cities and countries just back to the United States, a quick rendezvous to see his wife? You felt stupid, small, and used. And that was why, with each passing moment, you became angry. 

Steve is lucky that you weren’t still at the apartment when he came home. If you were, there’s a good chance you would’ve killed him. How could things have gone wrong so quickly? Twelve hours ago, you were writhing beneath him, Steve whispering sweet nothings into your ears as he touched you everywhere. Just two hours ago, you had woken up in his bed, waiting for him to come back with breakfast, blissfully unaware. But now… now, you just wanted to scream, to wish you had never met him. You’d rather be run down and broke if it meant you never had to feel like this.

You were still working through these thoughts as you made the walk from the bus stop to your apartment, moving on autopilot as you went up the stairs and opened the door, fumbling with the keys thanks to your blurring vision and shaking hands. You made enough of a ruckus that Robin was glancing over from where she was seated on the couch, grinning.

“Hey! I was about to send a search party, but I’m guessing that the night went pretty great -”

It was a miracle, really, that you had held yourself together as long as you did. But, the moment the door had clicked shut behind you, and you saw Robin’s beaming face, you lost all semblance of composure that you had been holding onto. You felt the tears start to fall, fast and hot, and you let out a choked sob.

Robin was up off the couch and to you in seconds. It was like a dam had opened, the tears flowing, your body convulsing as you fell into her arms.

“Oh, babe,” she whispered, “what did he do?”

You just pulled her tighter, burying your face into her shoulder as the wave of devastation finally, truly set in. You were an absolute mess, and it was all Steve Harrington’s fault. You decided then and there that you would always hate him for it.

******

The first thing he did was text you. When you heard the telltale ding from your phone, you instinctively knew it was him. Your nose was runny, your eyes red and puffy as tear stains dried on your cheeks, warm and sticky. Robin has unearthed some chocolate from the cupboard, scrolling through Netflix for something comforting to watch. You glanced down at your phone, your stomach turning at the sight of his name on the screen:

Hey! Is everything okay? I thought you’d still be here. If you had somewhere to be though, I understand - errands this morning took longer than I thought. I hope you had fun last night.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you read it. This, of course, was followed immediately by another round of tears, albeit more quiet and soft. You couldn’t help it - despite feeling cried-out, your vision blurred as you felt the tears start to fall again. It felt ridiculous, to let him make you cry like this. You should be furious, over this already, but it still just made you sad, as stupidly simple as that sounded. 

You felt Robin’s eyes on you, and you just turned your phone for her to look. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, fuck him - if I ever see him out in the wild -”

“I’m just - I’m not going to respond,” you said, voice a bit thick and hoarse still. 

“I mean, if I were you -”

“But you’re not,” you snapped. “And I just don’t want to talk to him, okay?”

Robin went quiet, staring down at her hands.

“Yeah - okay, no problem -” she said, voice quiet. You felt a surge of guilt run through you.

“Robin - hey, I’m sorry. It’s not you, I’m just -” you sighed, pinching your temples.

“I know,” Robin said softly. “It’s okay - I get it. I mean, fuck him, right?”

You feigned a thin smile, wiping your eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Fuck him.”

Robin leaned back, opening up her arms. You took the invitation and laid down on your side, putting your head in her lap and facing the TV.

“What’re we watching?” you asked quietly.

“Whatever you want, babe,” she replied, running her fingers gently across your scalp.

And, for a while, you pushed Steve from your mind, fell into a state of acceptance, and let yourself appreciate having someone like her in your life, when seemingly everyone else had let you down.

*****

Steve texted you four more times that day, the first coming a few hours later. The longer you went without responding, though, the quicker he sent a follow-up, each message growing increasingly frantic:

Is everything alright?

Are you free to talk right now? I just want to make sure you’re okay.

This is going to sound stupid, but I’m freaking out a little - can you at least let me know you’re alive? And that you made it home okay?

Do I need to send out a search party? Because I will, if I have to.

Then, around 4pm, the phone calls started. The first time your phone buzzed, you ignored it and let it go to voicemail. For a while, you opted to just leave your phone in your bedroom and stay in the living room with Robin, ordering takeout and watching terrible reality television. It almost took your mind off of things. Almost.

At some point, Robin broke out a bottle of wine that had been hiding in the back of the pantry. It was pretty cheap, which you probably wouldn’t have noticed before. But lately, you’d only been drinking the good stuff. Still, it got you a little tipsy, made you relax just a bit, and you soon found yourself laughing like a child with Robin over something so silly, you couldn’t even recall what it was. Then, it was getting late, a little past midnight, and you remembered that Robin had work in the morning. 

You probably would too, soon. You’d likely have to go back to the coffee shop, and ask for your shifts back. That would be easy - the gig at Enoteca might be harder to get back. You had enough money banked from Steve’s allowance that you’d be fine at least for a while. But, before the semester started back up, you had to begrudgingly accept that you’d have to get back to your shitty jobs again. But, that was a problem to deal with tomorrow. For now, you put on a brave face, and bid goodnight to Robin.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” she asked from the bathroom doorway.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Not right now. But… I’m dealing with it. Don’t worry too much about me, okay?”

You knew she’d probably let you sleep in her bed with her tonight, if you asked. You’d do the same for her. But it felt childish, and you had a feeling you already weren’t going to sleep well tonight. So Robin frowned, but nodded, murmuring, “Yeah, alright.”

You soon found yourself in your bedroom, alone. The moment the door shut behind you, you let out a deep, shuddering breath. For the first time since arriving home that day, you were actually alone. 

You moved slowly, pulling on your pajamas and sliding under your covers. You sagged with relief, the weight of the day fully sinking in. You were exhausted, so deeply that it seeped into your bones. For a moment, you wondered if you would sink deep enough into the mattress that you’d fall right through, and never come back up.

You were letting your eyes flutter shut when your phone buzzed on your nightstand. You groaned, rolling over and squinting at the brightness of the bluelight. Steve’s contact name was on your screen - you suddenly found yourself thankful that you didn’t actually have any pictures of him, because the thought of seeing his contact photo on your screen right now was too much to handle.

You had been letting it go to voicemail all day. But, this time, you pressed DECLINE.

The screen goes dim. You click it on, and see a notification:

Steve Harrington

Missed Call (8)

You shook your head, laughing sardonically. You should’ve been spiteful, and left that wedding invite out on the bed for him to find, so he knew exactly why you didn't want to speak to him.

Despite yourself, you pictured it again in your mind. The photo of Steve and that woman, smiling and picture-perfect against the sunset. The giant diamond on her finger, the way his arms were wrapped around her. And, her name: Nancy Wheeler.

You knew that you shouldn’t do it. But, you were so morbidly curious. So, despite better judgment, you found yourself opening up Instagram, and typing in her name.

You scrolled through a few, until you finally spotted a profile called @nancewheeler with an icon that you were 98% sure was her. You tapped on it, only to find it to be private, much to your disappointment. Although, maybe it was for the best - what were you expecting to find? Photos from her wedding? Posts with Steve, wishing him a happy birthday, going on trips, spending holidays together? That would only be more painful.

She had more than a respectable amount of followers for an average person, and she looks just as beautiful in her tiny profile photo as she did on the card. The profile reads:

emerson 14’. columbia ‘16. permanently peckish.

IN → NY

You bit your lip. Even with these small scraps of information, she seemed smart, cool, and more put-together than you’ve ever been.

Next, you went to Facebook - you found her profile, but it looked like it hadn’t been active for several years. The last public update was in 2018 - it was photos from a Christmas party. And, sickeningly, Steve is in the pictures, laughing as she’s curled into his side, both donning Christmas sweaters and paper crowns.

Steve looked younger, and maybe the happiest you’ve ever seen him. You closed it quickly, feeling stupid for the way your eyes burned when thinking about it. Next, you Googled her name - and, a lot came up. She was a writer for the New York Times. She’s published some hard-hitting stuff - exclusive profiles, breaking news coverage, in-depth exposes ranging from political cover-ups to tainted city water supplies to sexual harassment in Hollywood. You hit the paywall after a few articles, but you scrolled through the headlines. She was the real thing. Of course she was. How could Steve not fall in love with her?

You closed the browser and shut off your phone, throwing your covers over your head and burying your face in the pillow. You willed sleep to overtake you, but instead, your phone buzzed again. You huffed, twisting around and snatching it off of th nightstand. You declined the call again, put the phone on Do Not Disturb, and rolled back over.

This time, though, you let the tears fall. You had been holding them back ever since your breakdown with Robin earlier. But you weren’t done yet, and you had known it - but now, you sobbed into your pillow. You weren’t sure when sleep came and put you out of your misery, but your last thoughts before drifting off were of Steve, and how you hated him, but not as much as you wanted to.

*****

TWO DAYS LATER

“Seriously, it’s fine,” you assured Robin. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know! It’s just… I feel shitty for going on a date while you’re… well, you know.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just because I’m going through a tough time doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have fun.”

Robin crosses her arms.

“I’m just saying -”

“Robin! This is what, your fifth date with Vickie? Sixth? You like her - I see the way you talk about her. Just go - seriously, I’m just going to be here, watching TV and eating leftovers. Go have fun on my behalf, yeah?”

Robin pondered it for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah, okay - but, if you need anything -”

“Just go, will you?” you said, smiling. “I think I can be alone for a few hours, you know. Or… maybe more than a few, if it goes well -”

“Ugh! Gross!” Robin cried, grimacing.

“What’s gross about me wanting my best friend to get laid? If you don’t come home, I’ll just assume that you’re hav-”

“Okay, you win! I’m leaving, maybe forever!”

“Bring an umbrella!” you shouted.

You laughed, settling into the couch and turning your attention back to the television as you heard the door click behind her. The apartment was quiet - you hadn’t really had it to yourself in a while, and as comforting as Robin’s presence was, you were glad to be alone for a bit. And, although it was bittersweet, you couldn’t help but feel giddy that things seemed to be going well with Vickie - after hearing Robin rave about that cute girl in my art history class for a whole semester, you had told her enough was enough, and she should buck up and ask her out. Occasionally, you were capable of giving out good advice, it turns out.

A storm was raging outside, the rain pounding against the glass as the wind whistled. It was forecasted to pour all night, much-needed relief after an unusually hot and dry past few weeks. To you, that meant a night in sweatpants, getting under the covers early, and falling asleep to the sound of the rainfall. To you, that sounded just fine.

Even though it had only been a few days, you found yourself thinking of Steve less than you thought you would. Granted, that wasn’t much. But, it was something.

To say you got your heart broken would’ve been dramatic. He wasn’t your boyfriend - outside of bed, there was nothing affectionate between you two. Your relationship had been an arrangement, a transaction, and nothing more. No, instead, you just felt used - he knew exactly what he was doing. And, you had been stupid enough to fall for it. When you thought of him, you just felt dread, a stroke of anger, and ultimately settled on defeat. He still called, and occasionally texted - asking what was wrong, wondering if he did something, demanding an explanation. He had left voicemails, too - you hadn’t brought yourself to listen to them. Hearing his voice was too tangible, too real. Besides, there probably wasn’t much he could possibly have to say to you. You had considered blocking his number several times - Robin had practically demanded it. But, every time you tried, your finger hovered over the button, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to.

It was a little past 8pm when you heard a knock on your door. You were munching on popcorn half-watching a Netflix rom-com while mindlessly scrolling on your phone. You jumped, glancing over the couch towards the door - was it Robin? It must be, if it wasn’t somebody ringing the buzzer  from downstairs. Maybe she was locked out. That would be really early for her to be back, though - unless somehow, something had gone terribly wrong on her date. The thought of that alone was enough to form a knot in your stomach. You leapt up from the couch, practically running to the door. You were so frantic, so worried, that it hadn’t even occurred to you to check through the peephole and see who it was.

You braced yourself as you unlocked and opened the door.

“Why are you already -”

Then, you froze. Because, standing there in the doorway, dripping with rainwater and shivering, was Steve Harrington.

His eyes widened when he saw you, his chest heaving - he must’ve run up the four flights of stairs. After a few seconds, once the initial shock wore off, you straightened up, moving to immediately slam the door in his face.

“Wait, hold on-” he started, catching the door in his hand. You considered trying to slam it even harder, hopefully to catch his fingers in the process, but you decide to relent. 

“Please,” he said, voice a bit softer. “I - give me five minutes to explain, yeah? If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll walk out of here, and never come back. I promise you.”

You held his stare, pointedly trying to ignore his pleading eyes, and the way it made something in your chest crumble. Fuck.

“Goddammit,” you muttered under your breath. You sighed, taking a step back and opening the door, only just wide enough for him to shoulder his way in. You took a few steps back, crossing your arms and popping your hip. He was smart enough to keep his distance, standing on the other side of the room. 

It was only now that it occurred to you that he had never been in your apartment. You had always made him wait downstairs, embarrassed by how small it probably would seem to him, how juvenile and messy the place looked. You also became acutely aware of your oversized threadbare t-shirt, your old sweatpants, the fact that he had never exactly seen you like this before. You felt the blood rush into your cheeks, the self-consciousness suddenly all-consuming.

No, you thought, I’m not the one who should be ashamed here.

So, you straightened up, holding firm. This was your home - he wasn’t much more than an intruder in it.

The way he was looking at you wasn’t unlike how you imagine prey looking at a predator, unnervingly wary, frozen in place. After it became clear that you weren’t going to be the one to initiate the conversation, he took a deep breath.

“Okay, so - I have a feeling why you disappeared on me.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, do you now?”

Your words were curt, tone biting. 

“Yeah, well - okay, look - I’ve been really worried about you. I thought something had happened. Or, maybe I scared you off with something I said, or did… but, I thought it was crazy to come over here, even though I thought about it about a hundred times -”

“Well, yeah, showing up unannounced to the place where I live, in the pouring rain, in the middle of the night - that would be crazy, good thing you didn’t -”

“Yeah, I get it. But, the point is, I didn’t know why you left, or what happened, until now. I was cleaning up around my place, and - all of my stuff kind of has its place, you know? And, I saw my spare phone charger plugged into the wall, and I thought that was weird, because I didn’t remember putting it there… or pulling it out of its drawer…and that’s when I knew. You saw - what you saw, it isn’t what you think -”

“Isn’t it?” you asked. “Because to me, it looks like you had a wedding last September, Harrington. Let me guess - you had to come live abroad for what, six months, and couldn’t go that long without getting laid? I mean, you’re just like the rest of them -”

“Baby, no -”

“Don’t call me that!” you cried, not even realizing how close it was to a scream until it came out. You felt your eyes welling up, starting to sting, and you internally scolded yourself for letting him already get you like this.

“You don’t get to call me anything, I’m not your anything -”

“I’m not married!” he finally said, screaming to be heard over you.

You stopped mid-sentence, pausing for a moment, then scoffed.

“Do you really expect me to believe that? I saw it - Nancy, is it? Is she back in the U.S., just completely oblivious?”

He winced visibly at her name, like it was something foul.

“I wouldn’t know, considering I haven’t spoken to her in a year!”

It’s silent for a moment, both of you breathing heavily with frustration, too worked up. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words died on your tongue. He was still holding your gaze, unrelenting. There was something in the way he was looking at you, something saying please. You just held your ground, arms still crossed, mouth shut.

Steve took a moment, shutting his eyes and exhaling deeply, gathering himself.

“I - she called it off. Like, two months before the wedding. We - we had been having some issues. I ignored them, because I wanted to make it work. I really did. But… she didn’t, I guess. So, we went our separate ways. I haven’t seen her since she moved out of our - my, place. I swear to you - I didn’t lie to you.”

You bit your lip, letting your eyes drift downwards to the floor to avoid his gaze as you considered what he was saying. He had a lot of reasons to lie - but, there wasn’t much evidence suggesting that it wasn’t true. You nodded slowly.

“That’s not true,” you said.

“What?”

“That you didn’t lie. That’s not true.”

“I’m telling you -”

“No,” you interrupted, snapping up to meet his eyes again. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt for like, 5 minutes, and believe you. Believe that you aren’t with her anymore, I mean. But - you still lied. Back at the coffee shop, when I asked why you didn’t want a real relationship.”

His shoulders sagged a bit.

“What makes you say that?”

“You said you’re too busy - married to your job, don’t have time, all of that. And yeah, maybe that’s partially true. But don’t tell me that Nancy isn’t part of that. She is, right?”

He stared at you for a moment, considering what you were implying carefully, and nodded slowly.

“Yeah - kind of.”

“You don’t have to tell me everything that happened, but I need you -”

“No, I’ll tell you,” he conceded. “Can I sit?”

You nodded in the direction of the couch, watching him as he slowly walked over and sunk down. You stayed standing, holding your ground. He sat there for a moment, and you could tell that he was trying his best to compose himself. After a deep breath, he started talking.

“Nancy and I met in college, my junior year. We didn’t go to the same school, but we were both living in Boston, ran in similar circles, all of that. I’ll be honest with you - I was crazy about her, from the second I met her. And, I don’t know, it felt right, I guess? Or, maybe it didn’t, and I just wanted to lock it down, hold onto her. She also came from a good family, my parents loved her, all of that. So, after she finished grad school, I was already working my way up in the company, so I proposed. I’m sure a lot of people thought I was crazy - we were still pretty young, you know? I honestly was shocked that she said yes. I guess that was a sign, right?”

He was hardly looking at you as he told the story, his words careful and measured. His voice was quiet, solemn. 

“So, we were engaged for a while - things kept getting in the way. Or, maybe we were searching for reasons to delay it all, I don’t know. Looking back, here’s so much I didn’t know. But, I was working a lot - long hours, late nights, traveling constantly. And Nancy was making her own name, always busy - she’s a journalist, a really good one. So, we hardly saw one another. And when we did, it was like we were strangers. Or, even worse, we kept fighting about stupid shit. Like, who was supposed to wash the dishes, schedule mix-ups, the wedding guest list. I think we were just both stressed with work, and we were both starting to figure out that we had less in common than we thought. And then… one night, at a friend’s wedding, Nancy got drunk. Like, really drunk. And she didn’t do that often, and I was honestly happy to see her letting loose. But then she had a little too much fun, started stumbling, feeling sick, and I tried to get her to leave. And, that’s when she started being brutally honest about everything.”

His voice got thick for a second, and he paused for a moment to pull himself together. This was painful for him - really painful. The kind of pain that you can’t make up. 

“I won’t get into everything she said, but - I replay that conversation in my head, constantly. It brought a lot of things to light - we didn’t love each other the same way, and we didn’t want the same things for the future. She was totally blackout, of course. So the next day, when she was sober, I told her what happened, and asked if she meant it. She couldn’t answer me. And you wanna know the most pathetic part? I still wanted to fight for us, to proceed with the wedding, figure it all out… but I guess it got her thinking. I came back from work a few days later, and she was gone. She packed up all of her stuff, left the ring, and a note. And that was it. I haven’t seen her since. So yeah, you’re right - I’m not looking for a relationship. Because I don’t need anything like that to happen to me ever again. You wanted honesty? There, you have it.”

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. 

This was a version of Steve you’d never seen before. There was a lot about him that you still didn’t know, sides you haven’t seen, you knew that. But this…

There were now a few more things about Steve Harrington of which you were absolutely certain, adding to your ever-growing list. He was heartbroken. He was scared. A part of him, however big or small, was still yearning for Nancy, wistfully mourning what could have been. And, he was telling you the truth.

In theory, he could’ve been lying about the whole thing. He could have fabricated some detailed, believable story about his forlorn ex-fiancee, playing up the heartbreak, putting on the performance of a lifetime. But you just knew - from the way his voice had sounded, the way his body sagged and deflated, the way he was now staring at you to gauge your reaction: he was being honest with you. And, everything about your arrangement, the way he spoiled you, his desperation when you were in bed, his stony persona outside of it… all of the pieces were falling into place. And you had just spent the last two days in agony for nothing.

He wanted you to say something, you knew that. But, you didn’t say a word. Instead, you kept his stare, slowly crossing the room until you were right in front of him. He never tore his gaze away from you, eyes following as you slowly sank to your knees, down to his level. 

“So, are you gonna say some-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, because you were kissing him, soft and slow. He stiffened, then relaxed, easing into the kiss. He brought his hands to your face, grasping you gently as he pulled you close. 

“You don’t have to -”

“No,” you said firmly, cutting him off. “Stop talking. There’s only one thing I want to do right now.”

“What?” he breathed.

“Make you forget all about her.”

His eyes widened, and you were on him again, situating yourself in his lap. You started kissing him again, but more hurriedly, hungrily. He responded, melting back into the couch as you straddled him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He groaned against your lips, his tongue finding its way into your mouth. You let him, smiling at the way the telltale bulge was already growing in his jeans, the way he moaned when you brushed over it.

It had only been a few days, and you realized then how much you had missed him, as silly as it sounded. But the smell of his cologne, the taste of him, the sounds he was making under you, everything that was Steve - it was addicting.

So, the pair of you found your way back to your bedroom, gnashing teeth and tongues, whimpers and groans into each other’s skin, and hardly any actual talking happened after that.

*******

That night, you did your best to keep your promise to make Steve forget all about Nancy. With the way he was screaming your name by the end of it, you considered it a success.

You kissed him all over, pressing your lips and dragging your tongue over him until he was practically putty, begging you to touch him. And you did, wrapping your mouth around where he wanted you most. And, you had your fun, making up for your pent up frustration - you edged him, teasing and pulling him right to the peak until he was begging for release, practically crying. He was a mess, babbling a nonsensical cacophony of sweet praises, filthy promises, calling you his good girl and baby. When you finally lowered yourself onto him, you made him look at you as you rode him. You experimented with how far you could push it, forcing his fingers to your clit as you did. 

Oh, daddy, you had moaned, looking down at him smugly. Does this feel good? Do you like when your good girl rides you? I bet you do. C’mon, daddy - make your girl cum, yeah? I need to cum on your cock, sir. Cum inside me, you know you want to -

And he did, just like that, a desperate mess beneath you. You were so worked up, the rollercoaster of the last few days coming to a head, that you followed moments later, pulling him close as you came down from your highs together, chests heaving.

Afterwards, he had kissed apologies into your skin, whispering all the ways he was going to make it up to you. You just quieted his worries, whispering, “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“No,” he replied softly.

“Okay. Then the rest we can handle.”

And that was that. You didn’t even say anything when he fell asleep, right there in your bed. Instead, you buried yourself into his side, and had a peaceful sleep for the first time since the night of the gala.

Things went back to normal after that. Or, something like it. There was of course an explanation needed for Robin - she had nearly thrown a plate at Steve when she saw him in the kitchen the next morning. It took some talking down, and a series of death glares shot in his direction, but when you got her alone, she eventually decided to believe you, allowing Steve Harrington to live to see another day. It was easy enough, considering that the conversation quickly pivoted to the fact that Robin had spent the night at Vickie’s. She just blushed, punched you in the arm, and grumbled something about minding your business as she stalked back to the kitchen.

No, things weren’t back to normal. Yes, you and Steve resumed your arrangement, going out to nice dinners, having (incredible) sex after, and continuing your payments. He even gave you back the earrings you had purposely left back at his place the morning you had stormed out, despite your insistence that they were far too opulent. But, he was persistent, and they now sat on your nightstand, glimmering even in the dimmest light.

But, there was something new now. It was unspoken, barely tangible. For all you knew, the feeling was one-sided. But, Steve had shared this personal, vulnerable side of himself with you. You knew far more about him than you ever had before, and more often than not, you couldn’t help but notice the air of melancholy that followed him at all times, subtle yet unshakeable. And, you had shown him more of yourself than you had intended, too. You could be stubborn, and spiteful, and would much rather throw up walls and run than face the possibility of putting yourself in a position to be abandoned. Your immediate jump to a conclusion about Steve’s marriage, and your reaction after, was enough to prove that. He had seen this ugly, not-so-reasonable side of you. But he had come back anyway, and he continued to take care of you in every sense that he had been before.

A few weeks later, he texted you in the morning like he often did:

Hey there - are you free tonight at 7?

You found yourself smiling at the message, only to immediately catch it and stop. You responded:

yep - ill be ready for you

He responded almost immediately:

Perfect. I’ll see you then - maybe wear the necklace I gave you, that first one? I like seeing you in it.

You felt your face heat, the novelty of him telling you what he liked to see you wear still not completely worn off. You felt yourself smirking as you sent back:

anything for you daddy

You saw him start typing. Then stop. Then start again.

Christ - I’m in a meeting. You’re going to pay for that later.

Still feeling bold, you sent one last message:

i really hope so 😉

That was how you found yourself out to dinner at yet another 5-star restaurant, sipping wine and perusing the menu. You were debating with Steve whether to get appetizers or not when you heard a familiar voice calling your name. You looked up, eyes shooting towards the direction it came from, and immediately smiling when you spotted him.

“Eddie?”

And there he was: Eddie Munson, your dear friend. He had his long curls tied up into a loose bun, his shirt more unbuttoned than buttoned, a camera slung over his shoulder. His tattoos peaked through the rolled-up sleeves and on his collarbone, and you could swear he’d gotten more since the last time you saw him. You practically jumped up out of your seat, giddy as he came right up to the table. You threw your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace without a second thought.

“Ciao, bella,” he said endearingly, laughing in your ear. He pulled back, looking you up and down as he continued in Italian, “Look at you! Did you raid a model’s closet, or something?”

You giggled, rolling your eyes.

“Oh, stop - don’t act like you’ve never seen me look nice!”

“You always look nice, sweetheart. It’s been so long!”

“I know!” you said excitedly. “I mean, it’s been crazy so far this summer. I -”

You stopped yourself, then just shrugged.

“It’s been busy, that’s all.”

It was then that you regained awareness of Steve, who stared up at both of you from where he still sat at the table. His brow was furrowed in confusion, and you realized he probably barely caught a word of what you and Eddie had been saying. You caught his eye, and smiled.

“Eddie, this is my - well, uh… this is Steve,” you said in English, gesturing between the two men.

“Steve,” Eddie said warmly, extending his hand. Steve took it, shaking his hand firmly. Taking your queue, he continued in English, “Pleasure to meet you. You’re lucky to know this lady right here, you know.”

You felt yourself blushing, and shook your head vigorously.

“Eddie -”

“I’m just being honest, bella!”

Steve finally spoke up, taking a second to clear his throat.

“I, uh - how do you two know each other?”

“Oh, well, we both are at the university together,” you explained. “Eddie was actually a teaching assistant for an art history class I had to take. It wasn’t exactly my thing, but he really is the reason I passed.”

“Oh, c’mon, you excelled in that class. You’re smart -” Eddie started.

“So… you guys are… friends?” Steve asked tentatively.

“Yes, the dearest of friends,” Eddie answered. “We just don’t get a chance to see each other too much lately, since I finished school.”

“What’re you doing here, anyways?” you asked.

“Oh - the restaurant hired me to take some photos for their website. Pictures of plates of food, the space, ambience, that sort of thing. Not exactly my passion project, but it pays the bills, right?”

“Eddie’s a photographer,” you explained to Steve, turning to glance back at him. “And, well, a musician - his band is great. But, he’s an amazing photographer, a real professional -  you should see his stuff!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said quietly.

“But, darling,” Eddie started, “you really should model for me again. I swear, these gigs are killing me - I want to shoot something beautiful again!”

You felt the heat creep up into your face even more, and just shook your head.

“Oh, stop it -”

“Model?” Steve asked, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yes!” Eddie said enthusiastically. “Our girl here, she’s a marvel in front of the camera - I used her for so many projects in school, even shot her for my final portfolio. She’s like my - ah, what’s the English word… muse! Yes, my muse.”

“Is that so?” Steve asked slowly. 

“He’s exaggerating, I just posed for a few projects he was in a pinch for -” you started.

“And I need to feel passionate like that again. You should come by the studio, seriously, I’d feel alive again -”

“Totally!” you exclaimed. “Text me the address, let me know when you’re working. I’d love to come by!”

“Beautiful,” he said, grinning in the way Eddie always does. “Well, I’ll leave you back to your meal, but it was lovely to see you.”

“Same,” you said, beaming. He leaned forward, leaving a kiss on each cheek, and he set off back behind the bar, setting his camera on a tripod as he returned to work.

You settled back in your seat, smiling to yourself. Steve was just staring at you, his face neutral.

“So, you and him… you’re close?”

You shrugged, bringing your eyes back to the menu.

“Yeah, you can say that. He really helped me with getting a better grasp of Italian, too - you should’ve seen me that first year, I was so lost. He’s a nice guy, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly. “Seems… friendly.”

For the rest of dinner, Steve was strangely quiet. Not silent, exactly - he still laughed at your jokes, chimed in on the stories you told, and, his breath audibly hitched when your hand found his knee under the table. He paid the bill quickly, both of you simultaneously deciding to book it to the car as fast as you could. He yanked open the door and gestured for you to go in, quickly following and slamming it shut behind him. As the car peeled away from the sidewalk and towards Steve’s apartment, a silence fell between you. The entire ride was silent. When you  arrived at Steve’s building, you both exited the car and went upstairs without a word. Something was off - it was enough that you couldn’t really bear it anymore, and once you were through the door, you just blurted it out.

“Is everything okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

You shrugged.

“It’s just - you’ve been kind of quiet. Something on your mind?”

Steve stood on the other side of the island in the kitchen, arms crossed. 

“Eddie,” he mumbled.

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “What about Eddie? Do you know him or something?”

“No, no - but… you do. He just seemed… is there something I don’t know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you and him ever… well, you know…”

That’s what this was about? Eddie? You found yourself starting to laugh, palm to your mouth as you shook your head.

“Oh, God no. We’re just friends, and always have been.”

“Someone should tell him that.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, you don’t get it - he’s like that with everyone. He’s just, so… like that. Seriously, he could flirt with a brick wall. And he probably would, to be honest.”

“He was calling you his muse -”

“He’s dramatic like that -”

“And what kinds of pictures was he taking of you, exactly?”

You furrowed your brow, Steve’s face set like stone. Then, realizing what he was implying, you felt your face heat.

“Come on - my clothes were on, if that’s what you’re asking. But, quite frankly, even if something had happened between me and Eddie, it’s not really any of your business.”

His face faltered for a moment, and you realized you had struck a nerve. You sighed, pressing your hand to your forehead.

“I just mean that… you don’t have anything to worry about, okay? He’s just a friend.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, and he nodded.

“Okay.”

Part of you was pissed off that this conversation was even happening. But another part of you was thrilled. The thought of Steve actually being jealous… It was new. It was exciting. And, you couldn’t deny the way the thought of him being worked up like this, and just a bit possessive, over you… your heart fluttered in your chest. So, you just smiled slyly, taking a step towards him.

“It seems like someone’s jealous,” you murmured.

“I’m not -”

“Yeah you are,” you said, now nearly face-to-face with him. “Does it piss you off? The idea of me and Eddie? Do you think about him… touching me? Me screaming his name? You must’ve thought about it, right?”

You noted how his hands were clenched into fists at his side, and you smirked. You were close enough that your noses were nearly brushing, and you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him.

“I don’t get jealous,” he whispered. “I don’t do that.”

“Prove it,” you said.

Then, he was on you, crashing his lips into yours. He was desperate, greedy, taking your face in his hands as he kissed you like it was the last thing you’d ever do. It was a blur after that - stumbling into his bedroom, shedding clothing on the way. He held your shoulders, keeping you in place just where he wanted you, practically manhandling you as he posed you towards the mattress. You had to do everything you could to suppress your grin - a lot of the time, you were in control, Steve moldable like clay in your hands. But this side of him… it was thrilling. 

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he practically growled, hovering over you. “You’re going to do everything I say. You’re going to lie there, and when I’m done, you’re going to cum three times, at least, got it? Just so you don’t go thinking anyone else can do this for you, baby - just me. Got it?”

Your stomach flipped, and you nodded. His eyes were dark, and part of you wondered where this version of Steve had been hiding this whole time. Maybe you needed to piss him off more often.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Yes what?”

“Yes… yes, daddy.”

That was enough to get him going. He practically pounced, kissing you fast and hard, and perhaps a little messily. He worked his way down your body, practically tearing off your bra like it was some horrid contraption meant to keep you from him. Your back arched as he took one breast in his mouth, the other in his hand, massaging it and flicking over your hardened nipple. You gasped, threading your fingers in his hair.

“Could just touch these tits all day, baby,” he whispered into your skin. “Really could… but you want something else, don’t you.”

You bit your lip and nodded, watching as he pressed open-mouthed kisses into your skin, making his way down your navel, your hips, and then skipping where you wanted him, opting to ghost his lips over your inner thighs instead. You groaned in frustration, hips bucking as he continued to take his time.

“Patience, baby,” he breathed. 

He brought his hand to your center, running his thumb along your slit until it was coated in your slick.

“Look at you, already so wet for me, and I’ve hardly touched you. Were you thinking about me, already worked up before you even got here?”

You pinched your brow, nodding as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit, a barely-there touch. You shivered, practically whining his name.

“What’s that, baby?” he asked sweetly.

“Fuck - touch me, for god’s sake -”

“I am touching you -”

“You know what I mean!”

“Not sure I do,” he said coyly, coating more of his fingers in your wetness, still avoiding where you wanted him most. You groaned, realizing you’d have to play into his game to get what you wanted.

“Fuck me with your fingers Steve, please -”

And he does, easily plunging two fingers into your cunt without a moment’s hesitation. You gasped, throwing your head back as his thumb found your clit. He rubbed deep, slow circles, pumping his fingers along your walls. Your hips involuntarily bucked as he brushed against that one spot inside of your, knowing your body by now like the back of his hand. You were already close, worked up far too quickly to the point that it was embarrassing.

“Fuck, you’re already squeezin’ me, baby. Are you close? That’s so fast, princess. You’re such a good girl, fucking yourself on my fingers. Can you scream my name while you cum? Are you able to do that?”

Instead of answering, you fisted the sheets, hips moving with his hand as you chased your high. It hit you out of nowhere, the heat pooling between your thighs and spreading through you, blissful and rapid.

“Fuck, Steve - fuck, I’m coming, shit, Steve, it’s so good -”

He just hummed approvingly, pulling his fingers out of you. You huffed in frustration, still mid-orgasm, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“What the -”

Then the words caught in your throat, because he dove in, pressing his tongue against your still-sensitive clit. You were still coming down from your high, and he hardly gave you a moment to breathe. He worked you through the rest of your orgasm with his tongue. But, he didn’t stop. He continued, lapping at your pussy while you twitched and convulsed. You were too sensitive, tears stinging your eyes at the overstimulation. 

“Oh, fuck - oh my God, Steve -”

You reached down to where he was settled between your legs, gripping his hair. You tugged perhaps a bit too hard, and he just groaned in response.  He groans as you tug on the brunette strands, arching your back with the movements of his tongue. You planted your feet into the mattress, moaning as his tongue circled your clit. 

You weren’t even sure if you had ever stopped coming, the reprieve from your orgasm moments ago practically nonexistent. Your legs were shaking, and you were screaming, maybe the loudest you ever had in bed. The words were tumbling out of your mouth, because it was too much, it was everything, your mind going numb.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck - Steve, god, just like that - it’s so good, it’s too much, I’m gonna cum again - oh fuck -I”

It took one more circle of his tongue over your clit, and you were done for - your back arched enough that your head came off the pillow,his name on your lips as you screamed, tugging harshly on his hair as you saw stars behind your eyelids.

He continued to work you through your orgasm, hands placed firmly on your hips as he licked lazily at your folds, pressing deep thumbprints into your skin that you knew would leave bruises.

You felt tears running down your cheeks, your entire lower body still shaking as he brought his face back up to yours. His mouth and chin were glossy, his grin devil-like.

“What a good girl,” he whispered. “Was that good?”

“Mm,” you murmured, hardly able to find the words. “So good, thank you.”

“Can you do another?” he asked, dropping the mask for a moment - you considered for a moment. You reached down and ran a finger over your clit, wet and puffy, wincing slightly at the stimulation. But you just bit your lip as you looked up at him.

“I promised you three, sir,” you breathed. “I’m gonna cum three times, just like you asked.”

His eyes darkened, and he grinned wickedly.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“How do you want me?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. He thought for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder. 

“Up against the glass,” he said, voice low and rough.

You followed his gaze to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the whole city. Your eyes widened, your heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Yeah?” you asked sweetly. “You gonna fuck me so everyone can see?”

“The whole fuckin’ city, baby.”

You were on your feet in an instant, bounding over to the window. You pressed your back against it, the cool glass seeping into your skin as he stalked towards you, unbuckling his belt. He was practically fully dressed still, in stark contrast to how you stood bare before him. You realized then and there that he intended to keep it that way - he was going to fuck you fully clothed, still in his suit from dinner. 

“Turn around,” he said.

Oh.

You nodded, doing as he said. You felt him behind you, his breath against your ear.

“You’re fuckin’ dripping - got you nice and ready for me.”

“Anything for you, sir,” you whispered, casting a glance at him over your shoulder. “Do your worst.”

And he did. Without warning, he entered you from behind in one rough push, making your gasp and mewl around him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips snapping against your ass. “That’s it, baby - you can take it, can’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “fuck me, please -”

And he did, pounding into you hard and fast. You cried out, palms pushed against the window. Your breasts brushed the cool glass, and he picked up the pace. You squeezed around his cock for good measure, knowing that you were practically soaking it. He pressed his face into your shoulder, lips against your skin.

“So good for me, baby - letting me fuck you, after all that? Who else makes you feel this good?” 

“Nobody?” you sighed.

“What was that?”

“Nobody. Just you.”

“Damn right,” he said, voice cracking. “This pussy is mine - I can’t wait to cum in it, what a good girl - my princess, my baby, so good for me. Can you cum again? Can you do that?”

You nodded weakly, following his movements as you threw your ass against his hips. He had never taken you from behind before, and the new angle was enough to nearly send you over the edge. There was something so primal about it, so thrilling - the image of him thrusting into you from behind, your naked form pressed against the glass. Rome sprawled before you, and though you were too high for anyone to actually see you, part of you liked to imagine that they could, any passerby on the street able to see Steve Harrington fucking your brains out.

“You should see yourself, all fucked out on my cock like this - are you close again? Are you gonna cum?” he breathed, skin slapping against yours. You reached down, rubbing fast circles on your clit to help get you to your peak.

“Yes, oh god, yes - fuck, Steve - daddy - fill me up, please, harder. Fuck your little girl, let everyone see, please -”

And that was it for him. He let out a guttural groan, his spend filling you up as he came. He thrust into you a few more times, and you clenched around him as you followed, coming with a cry. You threw your head over his shoulder, shaking and clenching on his cock as you came for the third time that night. It was white-hot, devastating, the scream you let out feeling like it was ripped form your fucking soul. You had had a lot of orgasms with Steve, him drawing feelings out of you in bed that you had never had before. But this - there had never been anything like it.

As you both stood there in silence, his cock still buried in you while you breathed heavily in unison, you knew two things for certain: first, you needed to get Steve jealous far more often. And second - he had completely, utterly, ruined you for anyone else. You tried your best to ignore the terror that set in with that thought, and kissed his shoulder instead, holding onto the bliss for as long as you could.

author's note: I know the wait was long for this, so thanks for sticking around! It's also barely proofread, so if there's mistakes... just act like you didn't see them. As always, shoutout to Em for fueling the fic, and getting me to actually write. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

[norinenglish]

Stardew Rancher AU - Intro cutscene

Here's my first piece for the Stardew AU challenge.

If you want to take part too, use the #traffic stardew au tag (You can also use the banner I made). On my blog, I will be using #stardew ranchers au as well.

The writing is under the cut.

>> Next Part

I hate this life.

Jimmy doesn’t remember a day in the last year he has not thought this. He’s staring at a computer screen, as he has been for the last seven hours, when it hits him. He hates this life. In fact, it could barely be qualified as a life. 

He misses nature. Running around in the grass, playing, talking to people… He turns his head around to look at the window, but there isn’t even any on the office walls. He looks around him and only sees rows and rows of cubicles with other lifeless people slaving all day. The clicking of keyboards and mouths, the buzzing of the neon lights, it’s all too much.

I can’t stand it anymore, he thinks to himself. I need a way out.

Suddenly, he remembers a conversation he had with his grandpa, when he was young, about the burden of modern life. He hadn’t really realised what it had meant before today. Jimmy, like his parents, had dismissed it as the stubbornness of an old man who was made to live in the countryside. But it must have stayed on the back of his mind, because he kept the letter. 

In fact… 

He opens the drawer of his desk and there it is. A fancy old letter with a fancy purple seal. 

(He’s definitely not going to think about the fact that he kept it in his drawer at work and the possible implication of that. Nope.)

With shaky hands, he breaks the seal and opens it. The swoosh of the paper unfolding is the loudest sound he’s ever heard in his life. 

The letter says: 

Dear Jimmy, 

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong. 

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: The Ranch. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life. 

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honour the family name, my boy. Good luck. 

Love, Grandpa. 

PS: If the Sherrif is still alive say hi to the old guy for me, will ya? 

He puts the letter down and looks up at the ceiling for a second. 

In all the emptiness he feels, it’s like he’s just grown wing. 

🌿 loading🌿

The bus startles to a stop and Jimmy wakes up. 

“Pelican Town!” The driver screams. 

Jimmy looks around. There’s no else on anymore. He quickly grabs his travel bag and gets out. He says his thanks to the bus driver who just hums unhappily. Guess he really didn’t want to go that far out for just one person. 

On the side of the road is just a small clearing, with broken fences and dirt path. Someone is waiting for him, though. A man with cyan blue hair and an easygoing smile. 

“Hello, you must be Jimmy,” he sayswith a cheerful voice. “I’m Scott, the local florist. Mayor Grian sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival.”

It takes a second for Jimmy to find his words. The reality of what he’s done hitting him finally. He quit his job. He moved out of his appartment. He sold his things and bought a ticket for this small town in the middle of nowhere to become a farmer. 

“Nice to meet you, Scott,” he says after swallowing. “I…”

Gosh, he cannot screw this up. This isn’t like in the city. The people he meets are going to be the community he’s going to live with. He wants to make a good impression. 

Scott smiles, tilting his head to the side. He looks Jimmy up and down with mischief in his eyes in a way that makes Jimmy blush a little. He must be tired. 

“The farm’s right over here, if you’ll follow me.”

Jimmy nods and follows him on the dirt path until they reach an area with a… house. Supposedly. 

“This is the Ranch,” Scott announces, waving his arm around to show the land that stretches before them.. 

The Ranch is an old building made out of wood. It looks like it’s been built in the last century. The farmland around, which was included in Scott’s gesture, is littered with some kind of forest. There are different types of trees, dead wood on the ground, bushes, and even some rocks! Is this really the farm his grandfather loved ? 

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks in a light voice. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him and an air of challenge about him. “Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”

He turns back towards the house itself. Jimmy notes that there’s plenty of firewood on the side of the house. Someone must have stacked it for him. That thought settles in his chest, fluttering like a bird. He won’t sleep in the cold tonight, and that’s thanks to strangers. 

“... And here we are, your new home,” Scott says. 

Just like his words summoned him, a man opens the door and gets down the few steps of his porch to stop in front of them. He pulls the sleeves of his red sweater back to his writs and offers his hand to Jimmy. 

“Ah, the new farmer! Welcome, I’m Grian, the Mayor of Pelican Town.”

Jimmy shakes his hand and introduces himself. Grian nods, seemingly satisfied. 

“You know, everyone’s been asking about you. It’s not every day that someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal.” He turns to look back at the house. “So… you’re moving into your grandfather’s old cottage. It’s a good house… very ‘rustic’.”

“Rustic?” Scott chimes in. “That’s one way to put it… ‘Crusty’ might be a little more apt, though.”

“Rude,” Grian says under his breath, his eyebrows frowning. “Don’t listen to him, Jimmy. He’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of Gem’s house upgrades.”

“Gem?” Jimmy asks.

“She’s the local carpenter. She lives north of the valley, near the mountain.”

Gem, the local carpenter. Jimmy tries to mentally catalogue. She makes house upgrades.  He turns his eyes towards Scott. He doesn’t remember if he said what he was doing. 

“Anyway… You must be tired from the long journey,” Grian says, looking back at the house. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a bit and introduce yourself. The townspeople would appreciate that.”

He turns to leave and sees the box placed next to the mailbox. 

 “Oh, I almost forgot. If you have anything to sell, just place it in the box here. I’ll come by during the night to collect it. Well… Good luck!”

They are gone before Jimmy can really say anything else. But it might be for the better, because he’s exhausted. 

“I’m here,” he says to no one. Maybe to himself. Or maybe to his grandfather. 

Going into the house is a blurr. He barely have time to register the small table with one chair, the fireplace that was lit up for him and the bed. He just melts into the mattress and passes out.

[sleekervae]

New York Romantic .2

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: tom and noelle have dinner together

word count: 3572

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

The first few weeks should've been easy, at least that's what one would've thought entering a faculty of acting. But the fact was out of the eighteen kids in Tom's classes, ironically a lot of them were very shy. Oh sure, you had the stand out performers; the 'put your spotlight on me' students whose bravado followed them even off the stage.

Not to mention the workload was quite overwhelming at first. Very quickly Tom found himself staying up late into the night, reading papers and excerpts from a handful of philosophers and authors that discussed everything from the precariousness of religion to ethical questioning of the modern nouveau. A couple of his classmates complained amongst themselves about how boring and dry the readings could be, and some were definitely more bland than others. Though when his roommate, Sunny, began his evening warm ups and practice Tom found the urge to dive in came so naturally. It just didn't come in handy when he was going into the early morning hours.

Sunjit, or Sunny as he preferred to be called, was an Indian native who'd grown up in Manchester. He figured Doris roomed them together simply for the fact that they were both English. And Noelle was right when she said he was a ray of sunshine; every little problem or obstacle they came across, be it commuting in the city or their arduous work load, Sunny always had a more optimistic disposition about everything. It was refreshing, and he and Tom became fast friends.

He had also been quite taken with Noelle, the ballet student just a year ahead of him. She was a year younger than him but had been accepted into her faculty a year ago. He'd see her around on the campus, usually flocked by her dancer friends in their joggers, leotards and slick buns. And when she caught his eye, even for a fleeting moment, she never hesitated to wave hello. Sometimes they'd catch up together in the hall or on their way to school. Noelle had travelled all the way down from Maine and she'd never been anywhere outside of the East coast, so suffice to say she had a few questions about England; the people, the weather patterns, if he'd ever witnessed one of the queen's convoy or her corgis. He quickly learned corgis were her favourite dog. Her questions, especially the sillier ones, always made him smile.

This particular Thursday had been rough. Sunny didn't have class today so he spent up until 2am practicing his tremolos, legatos, and all the other chords Tom didn't half understand. As a result, he slept in enough to just miss his bus, thus he was late to class. As if that wasn't bad enough, because he had been in such a rush he forgot his notes on his readings at the loft. That had certainly gone over well when his professor -- a well studied and prolific expert on the material -- called on him to give him opinions. It didn't quite go over as well as he'd hoped.

He also had a bit of a jump scare when he checked his bank account and the funds were dwindling. Expenses in New York were truly nothing to laugh about. And despite his mum's assurances that she'd send him the money he'd need, Tom knew it was in his best interest to get a job to help keep up. Where though remained to be seen.

Suffice to say dragging himself up the stairs after school was his mountain of a molehill. At least the lobby was quiet, not even Doris was at her desk to watch soap operas and eat her burnt popcorn. So he sat on the steps, exhaling heavily through his nose, trying to will away the headache that was tapping away to be let in. It had only been two weeks, and already Tom was exhausted.

He didn't so much as bat an eye or look up when he heard the door swing open. He did however open his eyes when he heard footsteps come his way, and he looked up to find Noelle staring down at him. Her hair was still tied slick, loose strands hanging from her ears, with her jeans pulled up over her leotard. Her big brown eyes were soft, complimenting the small gape between her lips as she watched him curiously; an overall calming and ethereal presence.

"Hey," she smiled kindly, rocking back and forth in her mis-matched converse.

"Hi," Tom grinned, moving to shift from his position, "Sorry, you probably need to get by,"

"Don't worry. Are you alright?" she simpered, "You look like you got woken up by one of Wallace's cracking contraptions,"

Tom bore a smile back, shrugging dismissively, "Yeah, I'm alright. It's been a long day," he replied.

"Tell me about it," she took a seat next to him, letting her bag slump to the floor, "First time today I've been off my feet,"

"What time did you start today?"

"Seven am,"

"Ouch,"

Noelle shrugged, "I'm used to it by now. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing but..." she trailed off with a bashful giggle, her eyes still laced with concern, "Do you wanna' talk about it?"

"No, it's fine," he shook his head, "It's just been a lot, you know?"

"Hey I get it, the first couple of weeks are hell. Only by the time Christmas rolls around you feel like you're finally getting a handle on everything," she reached around to pull her elastic from her hair, shaking her head as her long hair fell around her shoulders, "You were picked out of over 2000 applications, only to be accepted into a class of not even twenty people. That's not something to scoff at,"

Tom chuckled, "You got a point," he glanced at her, "You look like you've got it all figured out, though," he said.

"Well, it sure didn't take overnight," she grinned, "Even now -- sometimes I realize I've forgotten my toe pads when I'm on the bus and if I'm late then I'll be drawn and quartered,"

"That doesn't sound pleasant," he simpered back.

"It's a living," she shrugged back, glancing up at the stairwell behind them. She then looked over at the desk, confirming that Doris wasn't at the desk. She then turned to him, "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," he nodded.

"Alrighty then," Noelle stood and slung her back over her shoulder, "I'm making dinner,"

Tom was taken aback at first, after all, he barely knew her well enough, "Oh, I don't wanna' make trouble for you," he said.

Noelle shook her head, "Oh please, it's no trouble at all," she assured.

"Isn't your roommate home?"

"She's working right now, won't be home for a bit," she extended her hand to him, "You coming or no?"

Regardless of his reservations, Tom took her hand, letting her pull him to his feet. Standing up he realized she towered over him as she stood on the second step. Noelle seemed to come to the same conclusion.

"Damn, is this what it's like to be tall?" she raised her hand level to the top of her head, bringing it forward over the gap atop his own head.

Tom chuckled amusedly, "Savour it while you can," he took the step up and sure enough he towered over her again. Noelle simply rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless as she lead him upstairs.

Noelle's loft was as cozy and warm as she was, the pale walls were bathed in the soft glow of lamps and the fairy lights strung up along the low ceiling. And one of them had an affinity for succulents, there were a plethora of tiny pots scattered across shelves and window sills. That wasn't to say the place was pristine, though; there were some loose jackets tossed over chairs and shoes piled up at the door. The kitchenette mirrored his own, only the pile of plates and utensils in the drying rack proved it was used way more than his own was.

Tom took a seat at the dining table, curious as he watched Noelle pull out packets of instant noodles, some eggs, and vegetables from her fridge. He offered to help where he could but she assured him she had it all under control. Ten minutes later she had two bowls of upgraded instant ramen at the ready.

The dining table only had four chairs, pressed up against a window with a faint view of the city. Tom was pleasantly surprised with Noelle's cooking, it was the first home cooked meal he'd had since arriving, and it was the tastiest dinner he'd enjoyed in a long time.

"Do you like it?" she asked between bites.

"It's fantastic!" he awed, tilting his head, "I'm also happy to find nothing's burnt,"

Noelle rolled her eyes, "Oh, shut up. It was one time," she giggled, "I've been cutting back on my noodle intake, but when I can't be bothered to stand at the stove for long I break 'em out,"

"Hey, a meal's a meal, sometimes nutrition is overrated," he replied, "And they're cheap, too,"

"That's a nice perk," she nodded, "If you want cheap groceries, Paddy's down the street is great. So long as you get there before 9am, that's when the nonnas go in and squeeze the shit out of the tomatoes and bread,"

"That's nice to know. Thank you," he sipped from his water glass, "Do you work, too?"

Noelle nodded, "Weekends at Frames. I slice pizza for the bowlers," she replied, "Sometimes my boss lets me take home some of the canned tomatoes if we didn't sell out,"

Tom hummed, "Is that what I'm tasting here?" he asked curiously.

She smiled, "Yeah! The spice is gochujang,"

"It's fantastic, Noelle," he replied, "Have you always liked to cook?"

"My aunt taught me how -- and my uncle served as the proverbial guinea pig," she said.

He cocked a brow, "You lived with your aunt and uncle?" he asked.

Noelle stopped mid-chew, realizing she'd let her tongue slip, "Yeah, my parents weren't really around. It's a bit of a long story," she shrugged back.

Tom swallowed heavily, "I -- I didn't mean to impose on you like that, I'm sorry,"

"Oh my gosh, don't be sorry!" she assured, "I mean -- my mom had some substance issues and my dad... well, we don't know where he went. So my aunt and uncle were named my legal guardians," her voice trailed off, bordering on dejection with every word she recounted.

Tom stopped at that, his heartstrings tugging but his curiosity nevertheless peaked. That being said he kept his questions at bay, he didn't want to offend or trigger her, especially being in her own space.

"I'm sorry to hear that. But you liked living with them?" he asked.

Noelle nodded, "They're wonderful people. I probably wouldn't have auditioned for Julliard in the first place if they hadn't encouraged me," she replied.

"How long have you been dancing for?" he asked, finding an out for new conversation.

"Since I was ten years old. I thought it might've been too late because everybody else usually starts at age three, but... here I am," she smiled back.

"Here you are," he smiled back, "And obviously you're very good if you've made it,"

"I suppose you have a point," she simpered, twirling her fork in her bowl absentmindedly, "Well, what about you, Tom?"

"What about me?" he asked.

She shrugged bashfully, "Did you like growing up in England?"

"As compared to the places I couldn't grow up in?" he simpered back, "I did. My parents split up when I was younger but I had a good relationship with both of them,"

"What do your parents do?" she asked.

"My mum's a counsellor in an employment office, and my dad was a show producer," he replied, "You ever hear of Emmerdale?"

Noelle shook her head, "Can't say I have. But that's pretty cool, though!" she said, "Is that how you got into acting?"

"Kind of. My mum signed me up for a youth theatre group to keep me busy -- awakened something in me I guess," he grinned sheepishly.

"I see. And is your dad still working in tv?"

Tom shook his head, the corners of his lips falling, "No, he passed about six years ago,"

Noelle nearly dropped her fork, quite taken aback though nonetheless she wanted to be respectful, "My God. I'm so sorry. How old were you?"

"Fourteen," he shrugged back solemnly, "It's alright, though. We're all making out okay,"

"Yeah but -- I can't imagine that could've been easy --" she stopped herself suddenly, becoming flustered, "I'm sorry, I know it's super personal and it's none of my business,"

"No, it's alright," he assured her, "Life's pretty fucked up sometimes, but we have to keep moving forward is all,"

Noelle nodded slowly, "You're right; and you made it here, after all. I think your dad's very proud of you," she replied.

Tom smiled, hoping the lighting was low enough that she wouldn't pick off the tinting in his cheeks. Taking a sip from his glass was the only natural response he could muster before uttering a quiet 'thank you'.

"I'm sure your family's quite proud of you too, Noelle," he said, "Anyway, enough sad stuff,"

"Good," Noelle huffed, jokingly rolling her eyes, "It was starting to get wishy washy in here,"

He simpered under his breath, "Alright. What are your plans when you graduate?" he asked.

Noelle rested her chin in her hand, smiling with giddy, "To get a spot at New York Ballet. They're the American equivalent of the Russian Ballet," she replied.

"Beautiful," Tom mired.

"What about you?"

"Go audition for a movie or two, I guess," he chuckled simply, "Hope and pray I don't fuck it up,"

"Have you worked on any productions before?" she asked curiously.

"A couple here and there. Mostly small parts. I just finished a short film over the summer, though," he replied.

"No kidding! What's it about?" she had both elbows on the table now, leaning in closer as though he would share a secret.

His smile widened, "My character's an aspiring journalist who stumbles upon this gang who like to take rounds in a tumble dry machine for kicks,"

Noelle's eyes went wide, her shoulders caved forward as she recoiled at the thought, "Jesus -- really? Tell me this wasn't based off --"

"A true story? I'm afraid so," he confirmed, "The moral is about how journalism doesn't care about right or wrong as long as it captures their audience's attention,"

Her face twisted in a combination of horror and intrigue, the same way most people react when learning about a serial killer, "Lemme' guess: your character gets found out and thrown in the dryer?"

"You'll just have to watch the film to find out," he chuckled smartly.

She sighed dramatically, "Oh, you mean the torture of having to physically sit and watch a movie? Unspeakable torture," she teased.

Tom playfully rolled his eyes, "If you can withstand Don't Breathe for an hour and something, I think you can withstand this,"

"I'll take your word for it," she simpered, "Do you want to move to Hollywood after you graduate?"

Tom pondered it for a moment; the thought had struck him numerous times but he was on the fence about it. The racket, the chaos, it was such a stark 180 contrast compared to England. And perhaps that was why New York struck the perfect balance with familiar inklings of home.

But hey, there would always be sunshine...

"I'm not sure. I might go back to England, we have a pretty strong film industry over there. Or maybe I'll stay here?" he wondered aloud, glancing out the window, "Obviously, you'd like to stay in the city?"

Noelle nodded happily, "I would, but I'd also love to do some travelling. Farthest I've been outside of Maine was Disney World in Florida. Not that I'm complaining," she chuckled bashfully, "Maybe I'll come visit you in Birmingham one day?"

"I'd like that," he beamed back, "We'll wait out in front of Buckingham Palace and try and spot the queen's corgis,"

"Oh my goodness! Don't threaten me with a good time!" she teased back.

Their chatter died down when they heard the lock click, both of them looking over to find Bianca, Noelle's roommate, sauntering in. Another petite girl, she had vibrant blonde hair hanging loose and tousled past her shoulders, soft Bambi eyes that were tired and glazed, and her checkout uniform was wrinkled and warped as the fabric caught in her jacket. She was strikingly beautiful, the epitome of a blonde bombshell.

She stopped short when she saw Tom and Noelle, perplexed but nonetheless fronting a smile as she dropped her bag into a corner. She tossed her jacket over the back of the couch, sauntering over with her hands buried in her back pockets.

"Hey! What's going on over here?" she asked, looking curiously between the pair.

"We're commiserating about life over ramen," Noelle replied, extending her hand out to Tom, "Tom, this is Bianca. Bianca, this is Tom. He lives across the hall,"

"Nice to meet you," Tom smiled politely at her, nevertheless he had he feeling he was a mouse within the eye line of a cat.

"Likewise. You go to Julliard?" she asked.

"I'm an acting major," he nodded.

Bianca raised her brows, "That's awesome! Well I hope you make it," she turned on her heel and started for the fridge, "Do we still have that buttered broccoli?" she asked Noelle.

"Second top shelf on the left" Noelle replied.

Bianca gave an quiet, victorious 'ah ha' as she pulled a container out from the fridge, then fished for a fork from the drawer, "If you guys don't mind I'll bid you adieu," she gave a small bow, "I have a date with my bed,"

Noelle cocked a brow, "Honey, put the broccoli in the microwave at least," she said.

"Don't worry, it's fine!" Bianca waved her off, "Don't have too much out here!" and with that she sauntered down the hall, a slam of a door followed after.

Tom nodded, glancing curiously at Noelle as she just shook her head, "I promise she's usually nicer than that," she huffed.

"It's okay," Tom replied, "She looks like she had a long day,"

"She works at the grocery store,"

He cocked a brow, "So you're both on your feet all day, basically," he noted.

"It's a living," Noelle shrugged listlessly, "We do what we have to to get by,"

"I hear that," Tom glanced over at her empty bowl, reaching over to take it along with his as he stood up. "Here, let me,"

"What? No!" Noelle protested, "I can do that!" she moved to get up as well.

"Hey, it's the least I can do! You've been on your feet all day, and you cooked dinner for me!" he replied.

"Tom..." she darted to his side by the sink. He nearly reached out to touch her shoulder but hesitated, mindful of not overstepping any boundaries too quickly. It was then the pair realized how close they stood in proximity to each other, closer than what young strangers should've been. He could pick out the black diamond flecks in her irises, the faint freckles across her cheeks, the subtle but sweet notes of apple and bergamot that wafted under his nose. And the indent of an old piercing scar under her bottom lip.

"I got it, Noelle," he assured her kindly, willing himself to focus.

Noelle rolled her eyes, she knew she had a tendency to be stubborn but she could tell she'd met a match in Tom. She glanced at the soaking pot in the sink, already having made up her mind as she reached for it.

"Lemme' get this in the dishwasher at least," she decided.

"Fine," he conceded, stepping back to give her room.

Noelle huffed as she put the pot away, glancing at him over her shoulder, "What's your sign?" she asked suddenly.

His brow furrowed, "My sign?"

"Your zodiac," she clarified, "Like I'm a Gemini,"

"Ah," he nodded, "Um -- Aquarius,"

Noelle chuckled, "Damn, you're just as stubborn as me. And here I was thinking you'd be a pushover... I'm joking, by the way," she quickly clarified.

"Your dripping sarcasm wasn't evident of that?" he teased back. Before she could get a word in to protest, he placed the bowls in the sink and made a grab for the dish soap.

"Thank you," Noelle finally conceded, "Do you mind if I go get changed?"

"Not at all," he glanced behind his shoulder with a satisfied grin, "I'll be here,"

Noelle collected her bag off the floor and started for her room, pausing at the mouth of the hall and taking another look behind her. Tom was none the wiser to her silent presence, his back turned to her while his broad shoulders lifted and fell with each move he made. He had this unassumingness about him at first glance, she wouldn't necessarily pick him out from a crowd but if she knew to look for him she wouldn't have a problem. And when he smiled, little wrinkles formed at the corner of his bright eyes, clear blue eyes a sharp contrast to his pale complexion.

She turned swiftly on her heel and skittered down the hall, coming to the odd realization that she had never paid any mind to the drama department -- at least, not until now...

[iamthekaijuking]

suaropods on earth are the absolute upper limit for land vertebrates, but is it because they have four legs? cause i was working on a scifi spec evo idea where the endoskeletal vertebrate-analogs have eight legs and it got me wondering if it means their sauropod equivalents can be even bigger in a similar earth like gravity

If it was just about leg numbers then land mammals wouldn’t be smaller than the biggest dinosaurs

In reality you need specific evolutionary pressures, circumstances, and unique and efficient anatomy to get big.

For sauropods it was entirely due to their internal anatomy. Sauropods are saurischian dinosaurs, which have hollow bones with internal scaffolding that likely made them stronger than if they were solid, as well as a very extensive respiratory system that included numerous air sacks, many of which ran through their bones. This ultimately allowed saurischian dinosaurs to massively cut back on volume and allow them to cool off easier and have more efficient respiration. There’s things we still don’t know about sauropod anatomy though such as how their circulatory systems combated their sheer verticality. Dinosaurs also have unidirectional respiratory systems, which is more efficient than mammalian two way airflow.

For modern baleen whales it has more to do with the aftermath of the last ice age and how it impacted the location of their food (keep in mind this explanation of the evolution of baleen whale size is based on my current understanding and might not be correct). Baleen whales actually used to be much smaller, around bus size. But during and after the last ice age the ocean currents changed and krill populations became concentrated around the poles. Because of this, baleen whales needed a way to eat as much as possible in one sitting and travel long distances efficiently. The easy solution was to get big, which became easier as their predators the macroraptorial sperm whales and Otodus megalodon gradually went extinct. A thing to note however, is that because they need more resources due to their size, the number of baleen whale species is lower than it was several million years ago. Also also, blue whales are getting bigger.

On earth, 200 tons is more or less the maximum size for animals, as the biggest whales, ichthyosaurs, and sauropods got around that size.

There’s more things to note though:

No, higher oxygen levels don’t make things bigger. Not even bugs. Modern arthropods are actually on average bigger than their Carboniferous counterparts, and the oxygen levels were way higher back then. And griffinflies, very active flying insects, lasted all the way into the Permian, when oxygen levels were lower than in modern day.

It’s important to consider what the bones of animals are made of as well as their structure. Different internal structures can handle stress better, and different materials can handle pressure differently.

Eight legs might be too many, as having more legs, while very stable, can be more energy costly. Two legs might not be able to support as much weight as four, but it is more efficient.

A very big thing animals have to fight with when it comes to size is something called the square cube law. Basically as something gets bigger its volume (insides) increase way faster than its outsides (surface area). If you had a 1 centimeter cube and doubled its size, the surface area would quadruple but the insides would increase eight times. But there are ways of combating this such as decreasing volume with things like air sacks or increasing surface area by being very wrinkly (that’s how human brains fit so many neurons!). And because things with a metabolism generate heat, big animals have to combat overheating because they have a lot of insides. That’s why elephants have such big vascularized ears and why their skin acts like a sponge to soak up water.

Also I have no idea how perucetus got so big, that glorious fatass